#it’s like they work for rival companies but they don’t have a personal dislike of each other

[finleycannotdraw]

12. Gabriel/Beelzebub ~ love like yours will surely come my way (x)

I’m actually obsessed with these two way more than I thought I ever could be so that’s fun! Did I draw their outfits wrong? Yes. Do I care? No. Bright purple ties and ruffled pirate shirts for the WIN👑

[justice-maul]

Hello! I was hoping if you could do a rivalry fanfic about tony stark x dom male reader maybe? Like if Tony gets into a big fight with male reader and (this might sound a bit basic but whatever 😅) he pins him to the wall and they start a messy make out that might turn into smut? And maybe tony tells male reader that he been having odd dreams like this? ( I’ve never really requested before soo heh😀)

«Hateful Lust» Tony Stark x Dom Rival Male Reader

Word Count: 2,432

Author Note: I… I love you guys so much, I’m not a fan of porn without plot I fucking love plot gives it more character

Btw I literally know nothing about the business world so don’t check me on this and remember English isn’t my first language!!

Warning(s)⚠: Bottom Tony, rough hate sex, porn with plot, blowjob, butt plug,

Tony Stark was the most annoying human being you’ve ever known. While Tony had grown up into the business world, you had built your way to the top and Tony and his entitled personality always managed to get on your nerves.

When you met, it was at a simple business meeting between companies, but it was enough to make you dislike the man.

The entire time he wasn’t taking anything seriously, he kept making jokes and annoying quips, and he wasn’t even paying attention most of the time he just kept flirting with every girl he found attractive enough to his standards… so pretty much every girl in the room.

The worst part is that because of his status in the business world, no one could tell him off or saying anything disrespectful to him, but that didn’t stop your comments about his behavior, you didn’t care what he was capable of you always spoke your mind and criticized him when he needed to be

That was what made him dislike you and that’s where te rivalry all began, it started from petty little comments that were disguised behind your professionalism and only escalated to literally cussing each other out each and every time you were in the same room

As usual, you were invited to a Stark party (probably because Pepper usually wrote the invitations) and although you hated going, you knew it was always a good business opportunity so you decided to go ahead to the party and avoid and ignore Tony Stark as much as possible

But of course, Tony always had this way of making sure that everybody in the room noticed him and it always worked managing to piss you off, you huffed and just decided to walk off and go cool down.

Walking into a random room that looked like an unused office as you were looking around and finally feeling somewhat calm, Tony Stark obviously had to ruin that.

“Hey buddy, long time no see!”

He said in a sarcastic tone and closed the office door behind him and walked up to you

“Hi… Tony.”

You said with an exasperated sigh through your nose, clearly trying and not bite his head off

“Aww, what’s the matter hun? Don’t like me much?” He said teasingly making you grit your teeth, “Who would? Other then the girls you sleep with.” You said coldly to him making him roll his eyes while still smiling

“Well at least all those girls have money to spare,”

Now that made you upset, everyone was aware of your background but you never cared cause you were just as wealthy and powerful in the business world as them and they couldn’t say anything to you but for Tony to say it? It just pissed you off

“At least I earned my own money instead having my daddy help me.” You retorted mockingly

“Why is it that I’m able to get under your skin so easily?” He said smiling, he knew exactly what he was doing

“Cause your so goddamn annoying,” you said with a growl in your voice making him smirk in response as he got even cockier

“Why don’t you just admit it? You wanna kiss me.”

“Excuse you? Why the hell would I want to kiss you?” You scowled in disgust and turned to face him waiting for an answer but you could see that he was clearly enjoying this interaction

“Because your secretly in love with me. Why else would you be so mad?” He said trying to push you further, with that smirk still plastered on his face making you rolls your eyes and scoff,

“Oh fuck off Tony, I doubt anyone could genuinely be in love with you if it wasn’t for your money or looks.” You replied coldly

“So you think I’m attractive?” He asked teasingly looking smug as he spoke, moving closer to you and leaning forward “I bet you think about me before bed, don’t you?” He whispered into your ear, putting his hand flat on your chest and slowly dragging it down your body

“I know I do,” he said in a low voice still whispering to you as his hands moved to your belt gently tugging it before moving it further down to your length

“What do you think your doing?” You said grabbing his hand “Oh be real, we both know you wanna sleep with me.” He said pulling his head away grinning, and a part of you knew he wasn’t wrong

Your mind drifted to all those dreams you’ve had of fucking him so rough into the bed so he could finally learn some manners, when he would interrupt meetings and make those snarky comments you wished you could shut him up by making him deep throat your cock slurring and mumbling the words “I’m sorry,” over and over again

As you were thinking Tony’s hand firmly squeezed your softened cock rubbing it from the outside of your dress pants.

“Your thinking about it, aren’t you? I know you are,” He whispered softly near your lips as he watched your expression shift from him stroking your now hardening length

Having had enough of him teasing you, you pushed him up against the wall smashing your lips against his and kissing him, hard.

Tony kissed back, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his body against yours, his length grinding down on yours.

You lifted Tony up by his thighs making him instinctively wrap his legs around your waist as you slipped your tongue in his mouth, the kiss turning sloppy and messy as your arousal increased.

You don’t even know how long you two were making out when Tony pulled away to catch his breath, resting his head against the wall exposing his neck

You gave him no time to rest as you immediately began marking it all over focusing on his pulse points in a way that left him panting, letting out soft breathy moans, his legs started to shake and get slightly weak.

He was completely lost in the moment, wrapping his arms around you for support as his knees weakened at your increasingly aggressive movements. You set him down only for him to button your shirt and kiss down your chest

“I want to taste you,” he whispered, his voice low and sultry to which you responded with a simple nod, With a swift motion, Tony dropped to his knees before you, his eyes locked on your now erect length.

His hands gripped your hips as his tongue flicked out to trace along the length of your shaft his mouth enveloped you, his lips forming a tight seal around your cock as he began to suck and bob his head with a rhythm

His tongue danced along your sensitive skin, his warm breath caressing your most intimate area, sensations intensified and the wet heat of his mouth and the suction of his lips was driving you closer to the edge and eagerly taking you deeper into his mouth

As the waves of pleasure crashed over you, Tony maintained his relentless pace, eager to milk every last drop. He moaned around you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through you

feeling the heat pooling inside you burst, you threw your head back as Tony eagerly swallowed, savoring the taste of your essence, sucking and licking to prolong your pleasure until the very last sensation of ecstasy subsided

“Fuck, at least your mouth is good for something when it’s not spitting out absolute filth,” you said in spite making him let out a breathy chuckle as he got back up from his knees “Oh you love it when I’m talking dirty, it’s get you riled up so bad…” he teased rubbing his hands up your chest as he batted the most innocent doe eyes at you

“Oh shut up already,” you said with a groan and pushed him against the wall so his rear end was facing you, he assisted you in removing his pants kicking them off to the side

“Well aren’t you inpatient?” He said cheekily, you dipped your hand down his back and spread his cheeks with your hand, ready to push your fingers in only to find a cold flat surface pressed against his hole, you didn’t even need to look to know exactly what it was

“Seriously Tony?”

He laughed “What? A guy’s gotta be prepared, right?” He said sarcastically and reached his hand around, his fingers gently tracing the edges of the butt plug making you grunt in response as you reached out grabbing the rim and yanked it out in a sudden, rough motion making him let out a startled gasp

His eyes widened a mixture of surprise and pleasure evident on his face “Fuck, I love it when you get all riled up, it’s such a turn-on” he said with a hint of breathlessness evident in his voice and turned around to face you, wrapping his arms around your neck

You lifted him up again like before and pulled Tony down on your cock making his body tense and moan softly, his lips parting in a silent plea for more as his hands moved to grip your shoulders for support and adjusted to your size his body gradually relaxing before he began slowly rocking his hips

You fucked into his sloppy hole, his eyes locked on yours, the desire shining in them as you moved your bodies in sync, each thrust bringing you both closer to a crescendo of pleasure

“Oh come on, at least fuck me like you mean it, don’t tell me your a virgin,” He said cockily even though his body responded eagerly to every thrust, riding the waves of pleasure.

“Says the one clenching around my dick like a needy whore.” You said with malice. The intensity of the moment was only increased by the roughness, the lust, the desire, and the hate between you two creating a powerful intimate bond

Your hands stayed on his ass, using it as leverage to fuck into him further. He arched his back, pressing his ass furthermore against your hands as he moaned

“Is this what you wanted? Is that why you’ve been such a brat?” You could only chuckle as his nails dig into your shoulder and he could barely respond, only throwing his head back “If you could’ve just asked me to put you in your place, I would’ve been happy to give it to you the way I know you’ve thought of,” you whispered in his ear, amplifying your words with deep, sharp, thrusts

He let out a guttural moan and buried his head into the crook of your neck “I’ve been having so many weird dreams about this, about you fucking me just like this…” he admitted, his voice filled with a mix of pleasure and desire which ultimately surprised you but only made you cockier

“Yeah? Is that why you always invite me to these parties that you know I hate? Were you really that desperate for me? Wearing tight fitting clothes all. The. Fucking. Time.” You punctuated every word with a sharp thrust, and he only responded with breathy whimpers into your neck which wasn’t something you’d ever expect from Tony Starj but man did it really boost your fucking ego

You laughed at his reaction and angled your thrusts against his prostate, making sure to hit it roughly and even grind against it which made him let out the throatiest moans you’ve ever heard as you pounded him

He pulled away from your neck to breath but he could barely even catch his breath as you fucked him into an oblivion making his brain fog his thighs trembling around your waist as he did his best to hold on

You, just plain old you, finally defeated the great fucking Tony Stark with your dick, knowing this entire time this is what he wanted, that he’s been dreaming of this, enticing you on purpose, he wanted you to hate him enough to the point where you felt the need to put him in his place, and there was only one more thing for you to do in order to have him completely under your hand

You fucked him purely to chase your release, not caring for his as your hips snapped against his ass relentlessly, making him scream out strings of moans with every sharp thrust before slowing down and finally spilling your load inside his messy puckered hole leaving him an almost adorable drooling mess

You pulled out watching as cum trickled out with your satisfied smile only widening from the look of him completely dazed with drool dripping down down his chin, as much as you hated him and thought he was the most annoying guy in the universe, your not an asshole

You left him on an office chair for a quick second and came back with tissues and water cleaning him up to the best of your abilities and offering him the water until he got back to his normal state and he was able to get back to his own party

“You really fucked my brains out, huh?” He said, still a bit out of it with a dumb smile plastered on his face as you only scoffed and rolled your eyes at him

“Yeah, yeah, this was only a one time thing, your a real pain in my ass Tony,” you said and he only snickered

“A lot of people say that to me, but we both know eventually you’ll come back for more,” you couldn’t say he was wrong per say, after already fucking him once you wanted to do it again and wipe that cocky ass smirk off of his face but you would never admit that to him

“Whatever, see you at work Tony, and not a word about his to anyone.” You said sternly and he made a locking his mouth gesture and throwing away the fake key and you shook your head at his childish behavior and left he called out after you Nanking sure your the only one who heard over the loud music

“Cal me when you want round two, sweetheart!”

You continued walking off but had to admit you couldn’t actually wait until you fucked him again even wait to bf a bit to see him leave the room a minute later and going back to mingling and flirting at his own party, his own cocky-self restored and although you wanted to again, you decided to go back to your own place… for now.

(Lol, sorry I didn’t know how to end this but I hoped you guys enjoyed! Eat, drink some water, and get some rest my lovelies!)

[hermannsthumb]

Hey hey could you write something about newt confronting his middle school bully a la this post: https://10001gecs.tumblr.com/post/729455540321779712/my-high-school-bully-reached-out-to-me-and-asked

(post) hmm i wonder who sent this in after we talked about it in discord 7 months ago... allusions to non sfw behavior at the end !! (edit also literally seconds after i posted this i realized this ask says middle school and not high school like i wrote. sigh.)

-----------------

“Oh, shit,” Newton says. “Hermann, do you see that guy?”

He’s doing some strange, jerking head motion over the ambiguous vicinity of Hermann’s left shoulder, and it takes Hermann a good few seconds to realize Newton wants him to turn around and look at the fellow in question. He puts down his sandwich with a small sigh: he waited two hours for Newton to wrap up his work so he would have company in the mess hall for lunch, lunch which will continue to evade him, he supposes.

But Newton kicks his shin under the table as he cranes his neck around. “Newton,” he snaps with a startle. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but—offended at the mere principle of it—he hits Newton’s own shin back with the end of his cane. Newton is too preoccupied with attempting to hide the entire upper half of his body beneath their table to put up a fuss.

“Don’t be so obvious about it,” he says to Hermann. “Be subtle, subtle. Yeah, perfect.”

There’s no one exceptionally exciting over Hermann’s shoulder when he turns back about painfully slowly, or at the very least no one he can see causing Newton to get as worked up as he is. It’s the usual gaggle of personnel they see wandering about the Shatterdome with them. “Ugly blue shirt,” Newton whispers, “and a stupid beard.”

Hermann spots him after another glance through the food line—a stocky, unassuming man waiting with a tray in his hands, though admittedly Hermann can’t find anything particularly offensive about his shirt or his facial hair, not even by Newton’s standards. “What of him?” Hermann says.

He doesn’t recognize the man, but that’s hardly surprising. There’s been plenty of new faces about the base recently after the latest round of Shatterdomes shuttered their operations and sent their skeleton crews to Hong Kong as a last resort. Hermann expects he might be one of the transferred ranger recruits. He lacks the, ah, soft disposition of Newton and Hermann and their more technologically-inclined ilk, and is certainly built large enough to hold his own in a jaeger.

“I think I know him,” Newton says.

This is not that surprising either. Newton has a curiously long list of ex-partners spread throughout the various networks of the PPDC, partially because the instability of their employment at any given base up until recently (or, indeed, the instability of their expected lifespan) is not conducive to long-term relationships, and partially because Newton’s personality is not conducive to it either. Hermann envies the people who have had the means to escape Newton: he himself has had no such luck. “Another poor soul you’ve scared off?” he says, and takes a bite out of his sandwich more aggressively than he intended.

“Ew, man, gross.” Newton makes a face at him. “No way. He’s a total asshole. He used to make my life hell.”

Hermann swallows his mouthful of sandwich. This admission, on the other hand, is surprising. Newton doesn’t usually make his dislike of people unknown, especially not to Hermann, and Hermann had been under the assumption he was familiar with the full roster of Newton’s ‘enemies’—most of whom are academic rivals of some kind (though certainly none surpass Hermann’s high ranking in that particular category), and all of whom Hermann had Googled obsessively after being made aware of their existence. “Sounds a bit like the whole 'taste of your own medicine' cliche,” Hermann says.

“No, come on, I'm serious, I mean actual hell, just ‘cause I was out about being into dudes,” Newton says. “Whatever bullshit you can think of—stole my shit, made fun of my glasses, pushed me around, called me lots of really creative and exciting slurs. Really original content. He flushed one of my notebooks down a toilet one time and I got in trouble for it. Just—you know, stupid, immature, homophobic jock-vs-nerd bullshit.”

More than slightly alarmed, Hermann shoots another glance over his shoulder. The fellow with the beard has moved ahead in the line and Hermann has a much clearer view of him now. He’s most certainly at least twice Newton’s size, if not larger, and Hermann doesn’t like the idea of him treating Newton in such a physically aggressive manner by any means (to say nothing of the other half of the harassment he received). “When on Earth did that happen?” he says. “The Jaeger Academy? You reported him to—someone, anyone, I hope.” And if not Hermann is more than happy to do so now.

“Oh, no,” Newton says. “It was back when I was in high school for a year. Before I skipped twenty grades, I mean.”

Hermann relaxes his shoulders, which had grown quite tense. “Ah,” he says. As a child he was unfortunately quite familiar with schoolyard bullies himself.

“His name is something stupid, like Chad or Chet or something. Not actually, but you know what I mean. I used to stalk him on Facebook when I was in grad school to make sure his life still sucked shit. He got divorced the same month I got my fourth doctorate. Really poetic. Oh, fuck.”

He ducks back beneath the table. Evidently he isn’t fast enough, because when Hermann turns, Chad-Chet-something is staring intently at the empty space Newton inhabited seconds prior. If the wide-eyed surprise that flashes across his face is any indication, he has recognized Newton in return.

“He’s coming this way,” Hermann says to the rustling somewhere in the vicinity of his ankles. It must be filthy down there. He hears Newton curse, though given the alarming way the entire table wobbles, it may be because he’s just hit his head on something. “Would you like me to make up a lie and say you’ve gone off somewhere? Or I can stall for a bit, and you can—I don’t know—crawl off.”

“Newt?” Newton’s former classmate says.

Newton rises back up slowly, his hair in significant disarray. Hermann fantasizes briefly—not for the first time—about going at it with a comb. “Heyyyyy, man,” Newton says. “What’s up?”

Newton’s classmate had been squinting at him with a small frown, but (to Hermann’s immense surprise) he begins to smile. “It is you, that’s wild! I don’t know if you remember, but we went to school together—like, fifteen, twenty years ago. We were in the same homeroom.”

“Oh, totally,” Newton says. “Bradley?”

“Seth.”

“What’s, uh, what’s brought you to Hong Kong?” Newton says.

Seth looks down pointedly at the empty chair positioned between Newton and Hermann. “Mind if I sit here?” he says, and though neither of them respond, he drops his tray down with a small clatter and follows suit. “I joined on with the PPDC last year, and I was stationed in Seattle up until a couple weeks ago,” he continues, confirming Hermann’s earlier suspicions. “I’m still getting used to everything. I heard there was a Dr. Geiszler working at one of the labs here somewhere, but I had no idea that was you. Did they just throw you over here too?”

Newton has gone a little red in the face, as if he’s bottling up a great deal of shouting, cursing, and possibly crying, and Hermann is somewhat impressed at his restraint in not making a scene. He feels a small surge of protectiveness for Newton (despite everything) and steps in not-very-smoothly to help him. “Newton—Dr. Geiszler I have been stationed here since 2020,” he says. “I’m Dr. Hermann Gottlieb.”

“Hermann’s my lab partner,” Newton manages to say. “We get along really awesomely. We’re, like, pretty close. Seth and I went to high school together, Hermann.”

“Mm,” Hermann sniffs. “So you’ve mentioned.”

He does not bother hiding his disdain, and Seth is astute enough to notice and jump to the logical conclusion of precisely the conversation he’d interrupted: he gives them a small, embarrassed grin, and an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. “Yeah, I was kind of an asshole back then,” he says, “but you know how teenagers are.” He picks up his tray and stands. “Anyway, I’ll leave you guys alone. We’ll have to catch up later, Newt? Maybe dinner?”

“Totally,” Newton says.

“I should hire someone to kick his ass,” he says to Hermann as they watch Seth find a seat with some fellow rangers—similarly fresh faces, Hermann presumes them to be his crowd from Seattle—across the mess hall. “I bet I could bribe another ranger into it, just go a littttle too hard in on a sparring match. Maybe knock out a few of his teeth. Ugh. Like I’d ever get dinner with that dick.”

“I got dinner with Seth,” Newton announces in the laboratory a week later.

“I wondered where you were last night,” Hermann says, feigning disinterest as he squints at his computer screen. In truth he’s rather peeved at Newton over it; they’ve had a long-standing arrangement as dinner companions for several years at this point, and he’d waited for Newton at their table in the back of the mess hall for an hour before he finally realized he was being stood up and stormed off to his quarters. He’d debated tossing out the extra chocolate pudding cup he had stolen as dessert for Newton but decided to eat it instead, imagining with relish the whole time how upset Newton would be if he found out. It made him feel a little bit better.

“Oh, yeah, sorry I ditched you, I kinda forgot,” Newton says. “I was on my way to the mess and he kinda accosted me out of nowhere and offered to buy me noodles downtown, as an 'apology'. Not gonna turn that down. I made sure to run up a bill. But, dude, you’ll never believe this.”

“Mm,” Hermann says.

He hears Newton made an impatient little shuffling noise behind him. Then Newton is stomping over and grabbing onto the back of Hermann’s desk chair to spin Hermann around to face him. He boxes Hermann in, one hand on each armrest, and (with nowhere else to go) Hermann folds his arms across his chest and scowls up at him. “Fine. Go on.”

“So,” Newton begins gleefully, “it turns out he’s also gay now. Or I guess he always was, which explains the divorce thing, but you know what I mean. He said the reason he treated me like shit was because he was jealous of me for being out, and also because he thought I was infecting him with my gay cooties or whatever since he wanted me soooo bad. What a jerk.” He drops his arms away from Hermann’s chair. “Anyway, we boned.”

Hermann sits up quickly and nearly collides with Newton's abdomen. “What?”

“Eh, don’t worry,” Newton says, “it’s not like I’m into him or anything. I’m gonna hold that grudge forever, sorry, he’s not hot enough to make me forget all that, even if he isn't an asshole anymore. I know what I’m doing. It’s all part of my awesome revenge plan: I’m gonna string him along and then dump him hard after he gets a taste of what it's like to date someone as cool as me.”

Hermann is of two minds: the first is that Newton’s plan is abysmally stupid, and the second, that he can’t help but be relieved that Newton is not earnestly subjecting himself to a relationship with a man whom he’s professed to hate. Loathe as he is to admit it, Newton deserves—Hermann grits his teeth—better. “How exactly do you intend to ‘string him along’?” Hermann says. “And why would you even want to? He hardly seems worth the effort.”

“Number one, by being hot and charming as usual,” Newton says, and rolls his eyes at Hermann’s loud scoff. “Shut up. I’m irresistible. He’s already trying to get me to go out for coffee with him today. Can you believe how clingy he is? So desperate. Ugh. And number two—” He shrugs, and something uncomfortable simmers within Hermann’s chest at the sight of the light blush rising to his cheeks. “I meeean, I don’t know, dude. The hate sex was kinda doing it for me. I guess technically I was the only one doing the hating there, because I’m irresistible, but it was still pretty hot.”

Being treated to details of Newton’s sexual proclivities is not a new experience for Hermann, as Newton seems to think it both constitutes daily small talk in the laboratory when their work gets slow and something Hermann genuinely cares to hear about, but Hermann finds himself bristling at it now. He wasn’t aware such an, er, act, spurned on by hatred, was even a possibility with Newton—that Newton would enjoy it. Could they have been finding more constructive outlets for their mutual dislike throughout all these years? Simply embraced the fiery passion of it all? Certainly Hermann has crafted list after list of increasingly erotic ways he could shut Newton up, but it is the first time he begins to wonder if Newton might not have done the same.

He forcefully turns his chair back around to hide his face from Newton. He is flushing, his skin hot beneath his collar. His computer screen swims in front of him. “That’s lovely to hear,” he says, after far too long of a silence. “I’m glad you—enjoyed yourself. Best of luck with it all.”

“Right,” Newton says, after too long of a silence of his own. “Uh, I’ll be back in an hour-ish.” He adds, mockingly, “We’re getting coffee. I’ll bring you back a muffin and tea or something.”

Once Newton has gone, Hermann drops his head into his hands with a small groan.

[writermask-0807]

bakugo katsuki x reader

A/N: omg this took way too long 😭😭 but-

for my loyal follower, nunezs-stuff!! sorry for the delay, and I hope that I've done your request justice. Also, once again, I might not have all of your oc's personality quirks, but i did try. Thank you for requesting, Hope you enjoy!

Warnings:

wayyy too long for some hcs, ooc bakugo, lowkey aggressive bakugo (he should be a warning himself lol), swearing (cus it's bakugo, duh), I wrote kianna using ‘you’ since it wasn’t specified. kianna's eating disorder is also included, and im not sure if i depicted it correctly, but i tried my best!! hope not to offend anyone, haha uhh that's pretty much it, ig. Oh, and this one is for bakugo only, sorry, but I'm currently working on the others- they'll be out in a while. Lmk if I missed anything else!!

bakugo katsuki, who meets you at the entrance exams, and, initially, regards your existence with indifference, since he’s already fuming, hands sparking with flames - all he’s thinking about is the sheer audacity of that bastard deku to even think about coming here, and how he’s gonna pummel him into the ground!!

*ehem*

so he’s honestly taken aback by your display of strength in the exams; he hadn’t paid much attention to you, yeah, but you sure didn’t look strong from how much he knew

either way, he’s intrigued - and almost immediately regards you as a new rival, and he expresses it in the only way he knows how to

“oi ya damn nerd! you must think highly of yourself, flexing your quirk like that!”

cue you turning to him with blank eyes

you shake his hand off your shoulder, looking unimpressed, even - bored

and almost immediately you piss him off with that - that expression of yours

there’s just something about it - something about that eerie emptiness in your eyes that sets him off, but bakugo’s determined and he isn’t going to let you off the hook so easily

so the both of you form a weird kind of rivalry/friendship into the first year of u.a that he definitely won’t admit is kind of nice

because with you, even with your blunt words and sharp eyes, you stick around when so many others have left him behind

and he can’t entirely blame them, selfish as he is

and it’s hard at first, because he’s more prone to blasting you with his quirk than ever having a *cough* normal *cough* conversation with you, but you’re just as stubborn as him, if not more

and you don’t take his shit either - returning his sneers and snide remarks with leers and barbs of your own

and you’re annoying, sure, always so goddamn blunt and straightforward, constantly on his heels like some kind of damn insect he can’t get rid of, but your company is nice from time to time (though he’ll never tell that straight to your face in a thousand years)

and bakugo just doesn’t get it at first

he knows he’s not the ideal friend (are you even… ‘friends’?); he’ll say shit that hits right where it hurts, does stupid shit that he doesn’t actually really mean

but you stick around and he learns to tolerate you and despite your arguments that are really just banter at this point, you look out for him and so does he, and… that’s kind of it, he supposes

and he doesn’t know how it has evolved to this - but he quickly learns to read between your insults and find the grudging compliment, he learns to see the embarrassed red in the tips of your ears when your face remains blank

he begrudgingly learns your likes and dislikes (though not on his own will), and so whenever he visits a store, he finds his eyes catching over the things you’d like, and for some godforsaken reason, ends up buying them for you

shoves it in your arms with a furious flush on his face and some lame excuse that you probably don’t believe but have the good graces not to point out

he learns that you can cook, and that it’s surprisingly good (again, he’ll never, ever admit it)

which is in anomaly in itself, and when he finds out, demands that you cook for him, claiming that he needs to taste how ‘bad’ his rival’s cooking is

you respond to this with a fond eye roll, and inform him that it’s definitely better than his, which riles him up, but then you end up cooking for him anyway

and, on a more intimate occasion, he learns that you can’t quite stomach the food you so meticulously make, and it pisses him off

of course, he knows it’s a disorder and that it can’t tackled by his sheer brashness alone

so he takes a more ‘subtler’ approach, if you can even call it that lol

ends up doing a ton of research; he starts with the little things, a slice of fruit here, a piece of fruit there- bakugo makes sure to periodically feed you small amounts of food because he takes notice that you can never really finish big meals

piles more food on your plate when he thinks you’re not looking

threatens you with smoking hands and an angry scowl (but he’s not angry, not really) to “eat more, damnit!” claiming that “you’ll be a scrawny little bastard forever so eat before i make you!”

(but thankfully, you don’t mind half as much as you’re amused)

comes ‘round to your room with tubs of your favorite foods that he claims he ‘accidentally’ made too much of (it’s a literal feast, btw)

watches you intently to make sure you’re actually eating, and when you tell him, quite bluntly, that he looks like a creep with a weird fetish of watching ppl eat, he tells you to “fuck off!” in no less indignant terms

continues to watch you like a hawk anyway lmao

(he catches you smiling, makes a whole fuss about it, and the both of you end up brawling it out, food promptly forgotten)

and so in the midst of this grudging rivalry-that’s-actually-really-friendship, it takes bakugo a painfully, painfully long time to realize

he likes you

no, no, no- he actually, really really really likes you

and it hits him like a ton of bricks after kamino

he’d came back as haunted and withdrawn as a ghost, and he’d pushed everyone away, all angry sneers and bared teeth and growling voice

but you’d stayed

you didn’t flinch away from his fury and his hurt and his screaming anguish - you’d welcomed it with open arms, quite literally

you’d forced his thrashing body into a tight hug, clamped your arms around until he’d stopped protesting and just collapsed onto you, sobbing his heart out, a crying, shaking mess

you were uncharacteristically gentle, soothing his cries with a hand carding through his damp hair and lips pressed his temple, his forehead, his cheeks, his fluttering eyelids

and it’s there, slumped boneless in your arms, voice hoarse from screaming himself raw and eyes red and puffy, too tired for his pride to protest, that bakugo - finally, after a stupidly long time - realizes

oh shit. i’m in love.

and he’s pretty sure you know, too

and so there’s no confessions, no fireworks or the sudden coming of spring to mark the start of something wonderful (but it is wonderful); it just sort of… happens

and so nothing changes- not really

you still argue over every little thing, and he still brings food ‘round to your room and you still spend time together doing study sessions;

except nowadays whenever you reach out to tug

at his hair out of eventual annoyance whenever you fight, a stupid lovesick blush rushes to his cheeks, no matter how hard he tries to snuff it out

and you accept his dishes with a faint smile that definitely doesn’t make him swoon

and the study sessions have turned to study dates that he really just spends admiring every flutter of your lashes and the light to your eyes whenever you get an equation right; wondering at the soft round of your cheeks that crinkle with your smiling dimples (that rarely stay long enough for him to catch), and the sweet curve of your mouth that lifts, just barely, into a gentle smile

and so with you and bakugo, it’s a learning kind of love; the kind that teaches you the ups and downs of life, the kind that hurts in the best sort of way

because it’s with you that bakugo learns how to trust and be trusted

(because what else was it when he showed him all your scars and your bruises, what else was it when you bared yourself inside out for him, the good and the bad, the flaws and perfection, and he for you?)

and it’s with you that bakugo learns to love and be loved, the soft gentle kind he’d thought to be so weak before, but - well

it’s not so bad after all. is it now?

[s-creations]

26 Ways to Feel Mortal - Q: Question

26 Chapters based around experiences that newly arrived Geno experiences while trying to find the Star Pieces.

Fandom: Super Mario & Releated Fandoms, Super Mario RPG Rating: Teen and UP Audiences Relationship: Mario/Geno (Nintendo), Mario/Princess Peach (Nintendo) Additional Tags: Rating for Teen needed for later chapters, but shouldn't be to worrisome, I'll have warnings if I'm worried, Poly relations!, Main characters will always be named, Minor characters will arrive as needed, the chapters are not in a specific order, just meets the needs of the given word, please be aware of spoilers.

Question: (noun) A sentence worded or expressed so as to elicit information.

“Do you feel items the same way that I do?”

Mallow turned to Geno upon hearing the question. The cloud child blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the wind that blew just now. I know we both felt it. But do you feel it in the same way I do? I’m made of wood and you’re not. So, does that mean we experience the same thing in different ways?”

“Sure, but everybody does,” said Mallow, “And I’m not just saying it because of how we look. We might know someone who really hates the feeling of the wind. Or, maybe, they don’t like sugar.”

“Don’t joke about that.”

Mallow giggled, “But it’s true! We all see and feel things differently. Different likes, different dislikes, wants, even dreams! But, just because we experience things in different ways doesn’t mean we can’t experience things together. We’ll just enjoy the company while we do so.”

Geno blinked slowly before nodding. “Suppose you’re right.”

“Even for those who don’t like sugar?”

“...Maybe.” Geno smiled as Mallow fell backwards, laughing.

______________________

“What does Bowser think will happen when he kidnaps you?”

Brows furrowed in confusion, Peach looked up to Geno. “Why do you ask?”

“I just don’t understand his actions and what he thinks is going to happen,” Geno continued, “He’s full of himself, clearly thinks he’s the best, and is only helping because it means helping himself. But he knowingly keeps an eye on Mallow to make sure he’s safe, and is clearly worried of the cities and villages being affected by this. I mean, he’s even happy that the minions who left him are finding a new lease on life. He says that he’s Mario’s rival but acts like Mario’s personal shield if targeted. We even go back and forth with ‘names’ but he’s said some comforting things when I’m feeling…weird. Bowser clearly knows how to act genuine but he also doesn’t? I guess I’m just trying to figure out how he works.”

Peach smiled softly, gently taking one of Geno’s hand to gently squeeze it between her own, “I honestly wish I could give you a good answer. But the most I can say would be because of how he was raised causes him to be so…well. Don’t let Bowser hear you or I say this, but he’s pretty much a big baby.”

Geno let out a snort before covering his mouth to laugh softly. “Well, I mean, you’re not wrong.” 

“If I really had to make a guess as to why Bowser can actually act decently is, strangely enough, Mario himself. That Koopa’s used to getting what he wants. He just asks for it or takes it and now it’s his. With Mario, however, Bowser’s learned that he can’t just do what he wants.”

“Guess it’s a humbling experience being taken down by someone smaller than you.”

Peach laughed softly, “Suppose that’s right.” 

“But the kidnapping?”

“Well, what do you do when you’re trying to show someone you’re better than them? You show off.”

Geno blinked slowly, “You think that Bowser kidnapping you is his way of trying to impress you?”

“If it’s Mario’s strength that pulls me in, why not try the same thing? Just, in a different way. You know, with a show of power and strategy.” 

“...That’s so strange.”

“I never claimed that things down here made sense.”

______________________

“Why don’t you look like the other Koopas?”

“Why do you want to know.” Bowser growled out.

Geno shifted nervously, watchful eyes on the ‘sleeping’ Koopa. Said being resting on his stomach, stretched out under some shade. 

“I’m just…confused, I suppose. While you share similar features to other Koopas, you’re the only one this big. With a spiked shell. And can breathe fire.”

“First off, other Koopas share similar looks to me. Not the other way around.” Bowser huffed as he sat up. Unamused that his attempt at a nap was interrupted. “Another thing is of course I look like this! How else is anyone supposed to know I’m the King of the Koopas?”

Geno slowly blinked, “You…would tell them?”

The puppet almost fell over when Bowser landed a playful slap on his shoulder. Only remaining upright because the same hand held onto him.

“Just ‘tell them’? You really think that’s good enough? No, this body is to display my strength and power! A true sign of a good leader.”

“Peach doesn’t have to do that.”

“Because she’s playing it all under her own disguise! Sweet little princess dressed in pink, can’t do anything too damaging, right? Yeah, sure, just be careful because she hits hard.”

Geno couldn’t help but laugh.

______________________

“Does it scare you, being a hero?”

Mario hummed softly in thought. He and Geno were resting against a large tree. Both staring up at the multicolored sky as the sun began to set. The puppet rested his head on Mario’s chest while said hero wrapped an arm around Geno.

“I mean, in some way, yes. I can never plan what I’m going to be faced with or where I’ll be going. Every adventure is a big gamble. Will we be okay? How will this end? Who can I trust?”

Geno frowned softly, shifting up to tuck his head under Mario’s chin to try and offer some comfort. 

“But there’s also the thrill of meeting new people. And seeing new lands. Amazed at how things could look the same but extremely different. Knowing that there are people out there willing to help. Either in small but welcoming ways,” Geno flushed softly as Mario placed a kiss on the puppet’s forehead, “Or even joined me.”

“Sure, it’s scary.But it’s also rewarding in ways people don’t think about.”

______________________

He knew he should be with the rest of the party. But he didn’t want them to see him like this. Breaking away to allow himself some time to think.

They were one Star Piece away.

The journey was reaching its end.

Which meant…

Geno let out a shaky sob, golden tears flailing from his eyes. The inky sky above nothing more than a streaky blur of small lights. The sorrow weighing him down brought him to his knees. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to get some form of comfort.

“Can’t I stay?”

The night did not offer a reply.

[crestfallon]

✦ ・— [ riz ahmed. cis man. he/him. ] || OMG! Was that RAYAN RAFIQ wearing the new Chanel boots? Hard to believe that a INKOGNITO OWNER / FREELANCE MODEL could afford those. Ugh, I hate to say it but they kind of pull it off. When you’re THIRTY NINE, I guess you think you can do anything. They’ve only been in fashion for at least FOUR YEARS and I’ve heard that they’re SNARKY and DEEPLY ARTISTIC but don’t believe everything you read! According to THE WORD ON THE STREET, they’re actually BITTER and UNRELIABLE. Ha! Well, I hope they know a million others would kill to be them. They better be watching their back. That’s all. ||

Their Current Rank: 1 Star - though he personally has found some attention, through social media mostly by freelance modeling && pushing his tattoo career to the next level, guest appearing on specific shows, and performing artistry at conventions, etc, his name is unknown outside the direct, relatively small bubble of the community. he craves more.

basics:

under co still, will fill out the rest later

nicknames:  ray, to his friends.

birthplace: texas, usa.

sexuality: bisexual.

religion:  raised muslim, not really practicing, mostly agnostic, tends to do a little more than he normally would around ramadan.

relationship: in a relationship with owen burr

date of birth: nov 11th.

zodiac sign:  scorpio.

extended traits:

hobbies: drawing (both sketchbook and digital, he loves to do pen drawings), tattooing, spray-painting, sometimes will blow the dust off his old, cracked skateboard and then shake his head no. he likes fashion-related reality tv, coffee in the mornings and a rolled joint to start the day. eating cereal for dinner. photoshoots, dancing, live music, taking pictures and memorializing everything. getting what he wants.

dislikes:

labels/inspo: the deadpan snarker, the artiste, the black sheep, the maverick.

BACKSTORY.

+ (subplot information) i would love for ray to have been involved in the robbery, somehow! possibly as a fence, a buyer, or even as a direct hand involved in the operation. he is willing, and desperate, to do anything to save his shop, his team, his career, and his reputation... and, hey, fame wouldn't be too bad, either. he has dreams, certainly. ADDITIONALLY, if he had to take a side in the suspicion thrown between the rivalling companies, he would loosely side with suberbia, as any/all attempts to get into the haus of red whatsoever has failed, and he may be bitter.. (subplot information ends).

big dream central for ray, honestly - his parents were immigrants from pakistan, and he was raised to work hard, never give up on his dreams, protect his own, and value his morals, above all else. he was taught to live humbly, comfortably, and his parents had little but love to offer their children, and worked long hours. he was the youngest, and the only to be born in the states, americanized from the beginning and always felt a little too large for their little life. none of their dreams seemed to fit his, but they were older, and they let him fly the nest after a few hard years of trying to tame his beast within. he never did allow it to settle, and he blossomed quickly.

full of ideas, of emotion, of thoughts, of energy, of beauty - rayan was everything that could fill a room, and he was every bit as awkward about expressing it. he fit like two left gloves, his dad would say, and he agreed. he just... was odd, in a way, that most others didn't understand. he worked for the year book committee, he loved to draw, excelled in any sort of artistic setting, and struggled with academics, but was relatively happy throughout his life.

jobs, and regular living, were always a bore. he just wanted to create, so create he did. bummed out throughout art school, bounced around jobs for awhile more, slept on couches, lived in a garage of a buddy for over a year, and finally started to figure things out.

when he bought inkognito five years ago, he didn't expect everything to change, but it did. he has a crew he adores, and he found some success on social media through his freelancing, becoming some sort of form of influencer type, tattoo artist personality in a smaller knit alternative industry... but he craved luxury. he always wanted more, so he tried and failed and tried a few more times to get into the industry as a model. or a photographer. or a designer. he doesn't care, he just wants to be part of the world he feels is so far away...

WANTED.

art hoes/creative friends; he went to art school, he hangs out in art museums, he will sketch while on the beach, he has digital art online that has gained popularity, he loves poetry - if it's anything deeply moving, artistic, or alternative/niche, he's there. a little art hoe crew would be a cute idea?

roommate(s), past; he's been a couch surfer before, and would proudly do it again, and has lived all over the place between texas and california, and especially los angeles. i would love a meredith grey/grey's anatomy situation in his life, where it's a revolving door to anyone who is fighting with their partner, needing a crash place, etc.

those rich, network friends; when you have a shop that close to the elite in the industry, and model at times when you get real lucky, you get to know people. these are ray's prized possessions; his ticket in, and in some cases, his genuine friends. others? nah, total marks. he'd use 'em in a heartbeat.

other freelance models/designers/etc; anyone else breaking into the business who he can scheme with, stragetize with, gossip with, etc!! would love some models he has worked with before in passing, or fellow social media budding stars.

exes/flings; he's never been one for commitment before, but he's been in la for at least seven or eight years at minimum, so i imagine within that time, he's tried to plant roots once or twice. probably almost fell in love once or twice, but they never worked out. we can plot why. now he is in a serious relationship for the first time, so maybe there is a chance at mending old bridges and regaining old friends?

[dekusleftsock]

I saw your post about Bakudeku and Horikoshi's use of romantic tropes. I wanted to add a couple of my own thoughts. Bkdk also use the trope of "impress the girl" a bunch. In stories the mc often has a crush and wants to impress the girl, but she's just not interested. As he progresses in the story, the two of them start to interact and flirt more. In a lot of ways, bkdk reminds me of Astrid and Hiccup. Both of them

1: use the Impress the girl trope a lot

2: have a nerdy and emotional mc

3: have a beautiful bad tempered warrior blonde as a love interest.

4: mc knew said love interest even as a kid.

5: Said love interest disliked them and considered them a rival before finally befriending them.

This is also what I often want to say to bkdk haters. We've basically already seen relationships very similar to Bkdk on screen before, they just weren't gay. But in terms of dynamics and canon trope use, both of these couples share multiple romantic tropes. People argue that bkdk is toxic, but Astrid/Hiccup also had a rivalry and bullying going on. People say they are childhood friends and brother-like, but Astrid/Hiccup grew up in fairly close company to one another. I haven't seen many people mention the similarities between the two couples so I figured I might as well.

Definitely! The thing that’s so weird about bkdk is that it’s like this.. idk.. “cringe” queer ship. That bc Katsuki bullied deku it is automatically both toxic/abusive, and also that it is the “cringy, girl who likes gay ships way too much”. In a weird way, it’s trying to say that it IS the queer ship for straight girls, completely ignoring the many other people (99% of the time queer writers) that ship it!

It’s kind of like seeing bkdk as competition for izuocha in a weird way. Because, yeah, bkdk DOES fit a lot of romantic tropes, and the only reason it’s not seen as both a valid and possible ship, all circles around homophobia and the alt right.

Cringe culture was born out of the alt rights nihilism (that’s why the indomitable human spirit trend is so interesting to me personally) and that nihilism stretches to everyone. Queer, leftist, liberal, or even down to who ships what and how much they expect it to happen.

Let’s be honest here, if izu//ocha becomes canon then it’s bad writing. Simple as that. Bkdk has followed romantic tropes, had more development, had more screen time, his LOVE INTEREST has another love interest that better compliments her, (toga and possibly tsu) and it fights what makes a shonen well, shonen. The parody of the stereotypical shonen, but when you look under the cracks nothing really follows the normal tropes. From something as minuscule as an unwise mentor (all might) to the love interest of the story.

I have many, many thoughts on this subject, (my absolute monster of a meta post that’s in the works and thankfully almost done can attest to that) because I truly do think it’s deeper than people not understanding how shipping and fandom works. There’s more to it. Could be due to horikoshi making a character driven shonen over a plot driven one. (Another example of breaking the tropes of a normal shonen) Could be general homophobia in the anime community. We just, don’t know.

Kiri//Baku is also an interesting character in this whole idea of shonen. And that’s because of the fact that Katsuki not only doesn’t have a female love interest and therefore has to have a male one that’s closest to them and not Izuku (ofc without destroying the carefully built system straight love interests, like Mina for kirishima, jirou for kaminari, etc) because Izuku has ochako.

That’s why people always say that the ship is the “most straight queer ship”, even if there’s a lot of queer people who do.

Sorry kinda rambled a bit bdisndidkdji I just have a lot of thoughts on how shipping works culturally in a fandom. Super interesting.

Anyway, how to train your dragon was a great example and I’m glad you brought it up!

Btw I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this but just in case, please don’t harass anyone who ships anything. Block them if they’re attacking you in any way that genuinely hurts you or your mental health. It’s just better if we all stay a little more positive in general. Starting a nonsense argument in a tag? Ignore it. Block it. You’re only giving them your platform which is exactly what they want. The attention you’ll give them and the argument you’ll start. Also if it’s just some guy being a mild dickwad, don’t harass him. Please.

Like I say this every once in a while just so everyone remembers that being positive and creating art out of crappy things people have said (but keeping them anonymous) is infinitely better than giving someone your platform. (This isn’t targeted at the person who asked this btw, you’re all good this is just a general positive message I talk about sometimes hedjidndl)

Be safe, be happy, and let’s uplift each other than being crappy people down. That way, we’ll always go higher :)

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. I

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst 

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 11k

➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol consumption, anxiety, lots of feels about marriage, a stupid ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (there’s consent, just bad sex that makes the reader feel shitty), does ceo tae count as a warning? 

➵ a/n: hello my first fic of my favourite trope arranged marriage, AND with kim taehyung?? yes pls !! this will be a series and I’ll be actively working on it so you don’t have to wait too long for chapters, i hope you can follow this series with me <33

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”  

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  || masterlist

“Another one, Father? I thought I told you my secretary would be handling marriage profiles from now on. Stop concerning yourself with who I marry.” 

“But I do, son. Trust me, I know this girl, she’s the daughter of a trusted friend and I think she’s a good match.” 

“Father, everyone you choose for me I dislike and it’s distracting me from my work. I don’t need this right now.” 

“She’s different, Taehyung. I personally know her and I’m certain you won’t say no.” 

“And why is that?” 

“There’s something about her you won’t refuse, son, you’ll notice it when you meet her.” 

“I don’t want to meet her, Father. Like I said, I need to work.” 

“I just knew you’d act this way. Want to know something, son? I’ve made her part of a business deal, you can’t back out of this.”

“What? You made her part of a business deal?! Why would you-”

“Because you wouldn’t have given her a chance otherwise, you haven’t been giving anyone a chance since I’ve been setting up potential partners for you and I’m sick of it. You said you were open to an arranged marriage, where’s that attitude now?”

“Because, Father, I have a company to run and that’s-”

“No. I will not allow you to reduce your life to just this company. There are far more enjoyable things in life than a business.”

“But Father-”

“No, Taehyung. One thing you need to learn is balance. If you don’t give anyone or anything a chance you will live a lonely life behind your desk. Even in this cutthroat world of business where you can lose money or be betrayed by anyone at any moment, the most painful thing to suffer is loneliness, and I won’t let you live in this world alone.”

“Dad-”

“You will meet this girl, Taehyung, end of discussion.” 

“Dad! I told you I want nothing to do with your company, how could you let me get dragged into this?!” 

“Y/N-ie, I know you value the life you have without any of my help, but let me help just this once, especially with finding a husband. I’m being offered the deal of a lifetime and I can’t refuse, he just happens to be part of it. I need this for the company, please.”

“But Dad, I don’t even know him. And if he’s the CEO of some rich company he’s probably an asshole, I’m not doing this.” 

“Y/N-ie, trust me, I know his son. He’s a sincere, hard-working man, I promise.”

“Yeah, right. Even if that’s the case, I still don’t know him, let alone love him, Dad. How can you make me marry someone I don’t love?”

“Because you can learn to love him. There are no rules concerning the way two people should fall in love, love doesn’t always need to come first.”

“But Dad-”

“My daughter, I have not asked you for many things in my life, but this is one thing I must ask of you. Please, just meet him, don’t say no without even trying.”

“Dad, I don’t know-”

“Please, Y.N, do it for me. If not for the company or money, please do it for me.”

And here you were, fidgeting with the tips of your nails, tuning in and out of the present world and overthinking every aspect of your life that somehow lead you to this moment. Sitting on a Leather Italia couch in what was described to be Mr. Kim’s study; listening to your father’s incessant, albeit wholesome chatter next to you with your future in-laws across. 

And next to them was their suave, unreadable son sitting in a relaxed manner, flipping his attention between your fathers’ conversation and anything else in the room.

You on the other hand, were utterly high strung due to the fact that your father failed to mention your future fiancé’s identity until 30 minutes before arriving here, having done a quick search in the car to unveil who he exactly was.

And that’s when it hit you. You weren’t marrying just anyone, you were getting married to Kim Taehyung. The infamous CEO of Kim Enterprises—Korea’s largest software development and manufacturing company, rivaling to be one of the largest in the world. He was part of Seoul’s most prestigious circle of businessmen, having made multiple Forbes international lists of Most Successful, Youngest, Richest, and is even one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, not just Seoul.

If this wasn’t already taking you out, then it was definitely the fact that his photos through a measly Google search did him absolutely, utterly and completely no justice. They simply could never capture the truth of just how handsome Kim Taehyung was in real life. You couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was stunning, gorgeous, seemed as though God had created the universe, heaven and hell in 6 days and left the 7th just to create him. 

He was like a work of art, worthy of being placed in the finest of museums and left untouched, unsodden by the ugliness of humanity. It made you feel extremely inferior to him in an instant. It was sickening, he was sickening, intoxicating, and quite frankly, intimidating.

It was his look, his undivided stare when he eventually settled his sight on you. It didn’t matter his dark hair that landed and perfectly curled above his eyes, the way he occasionally licked his plush lips or how his long, tall legs spread out before him, it was his look that made you want to turn tail and run.  

It seemed to reach into your soul, peer straight through whatever façade, walls or defense mechanisms you could spend years building only to have his simple look tear it down in minutes. He was alluring, captivating, left you wanting to cower into whatever hole you could dig yourself into or discover all the secrets he hid behind those enchanting eyes.

Kim Taehyung was many things you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, though you assessed your priorities and decided they didn’t just include him, but mainly the significance of the current meeting taking place right now. 

It wasn’t a mere one-time business deal to discuss a project, it was a meeting that entailed the partnership of both your family companies and would define the next however many years of your life. More specifically, spending it with the exact same man that looked at you without a single readable expression on his face. 

You distracted yourself by trying to observe as many useless things as you could, flitting around the room many times before suddenly glancing at Taehyung’s index finger coming up to rest against his lips.

You zeroed your vision in more. 

Is that a cut on his finger?

“Jae-in, of course! This is just as important to me as it is to you, your son is a remarkable CEO, and I’m sure he’ll make an amazing husband.” 

“Aish, Namhyun, you flatter me too much. My son may be handsome, though your daughter is even more beautiful. I’m very sure she will make a wonderful wife.”

“Yes, Namhyun, your daughter is absolutely gorgeous! Just as gorgeous as her mother. I know she wasn’t able to make it, though may I ask where your wife is tonight?” 

“Ah, unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Though I was hoping my presence would be enough to fill in for her, am I doing a bad job?” 

Laughter erupted from the parents in the room, meanwhile, Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the way you immediately winced at the mention of your mother. Something he definitely wouldn’t miss with the way he found himself examining your every move. 

It was habitual to him, something born out of his roots in business, only for the purpose of calculating and reading people like an open book. 

He knew you’d also become victim to that habit, though oddly enough, he found himself quite interested in observing you. He had already figured you out; you hated business, there was a clear disconnection between yourself and your father’s company and you reeked of a sense of independence that funnily contradicted the antsy way you bounced your leg. 

Your way of speech, however, mannerisms, gestures, your look; it was all professional enough you clearly have some sort of background in business. You seemed like an heiress to Taehyung, which you were, though you oddly had no interest in business?   

All these details piqued his interest, curious of just who you exactly were, but he was mainly intrigued by the mysterious claim his father made upon mentioning you for the first time. 

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

That had raked Taehyung’s brain consistently for the past hour now, crossing his legs loosely and his arms folded over his chest, contemplating over and over again as he looked at you, what’s so damn special about her? 

‘You’ll notice it when you meet her,’ the words rang in his ears.

That was the driving force behind his calculation, observation, near inability to take his eyes off of you as he learned new things nearly every minute and led him closer to understanding his father.  

He could tell you were an anxious person, though hid it behind a persona of false confidence. You had a tendency to stick close to your father despite observing you don’t rely on him for much of anything, even less your mother. The softness behind your every movement despite being from a business background where you should be harsh, rigid, rough around the edges, and yet you seemed entirely different.

Taehyung then realized how inherently dissimilar you were to many of the other women he met. They were all relatively of the same cut and look. Cold, sharp, cunning. All women of pure business; daughters, granddaughters or straight CEOs of wealthy companies, simply interested in marriage as a deal or an advantage rather than a commitment. 

And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Taehyung was a man of business himself, married to his work, his home behind a desk and the company the only thought occupying his mind 24/7.

But with you, you were interesting, unlike the others and it made him curious.

Taehyung also couldn’t help but notice you were...pretty. You weren’t too overly sexy nor too innocent, you were pretty. There was an elegance to your looks, features like your hair and eyes complementing you as a whole, and he couldn’t miss that you felt oddly...warm.

Taehyung found himself beginning to understand his father’s original viewpoint, considering the possibility he could’ve been correct. 

You just seemed different. 

“Ah, that seems to be everything. Exact details about the wedding have already been put in place by us.”

“Yes! We’ve been waiting for our TaeTae to get married for so long. We’ve had plans for months now and we can finally move forward with them! You and Y/N don’t need to worry about anything!” 

“Mom, did you really just call me that in front of my future fiancé?” 

“Oh, let it go, son. It won't be long before she calls you that, too!” 

Taehyung could only playfully roll his eyes at his overly excited mother, you scrunching your nose at the embarrassment.

“That’s incredibly generous of you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, though my conscience is not one to let such things go. My family should contribute to the wedding in some way. Y/N and I would be happy to do so.”

“Why don’t we discuss that outside? I believe we should give the future couple some time alone, shall we?” 

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before standing up and respectively addressing either’s parents, Taehyung shutting the door behind them once they exited and having turned to look at you, an awkward silence piercing the air. 

There it was again, his look. It was irrefutably the one reason you avoided eye contact with him, you felt he would swallow you up if you shared even 5 seconds between each other.

“So...” Taehyung suddenly broke the ice, eyeing you.

“So...” 

“Marriage, huh?” 

“Yeah, marriage. Never done that one before.” If there wasn’t a time you vehemently hated yourself, then it was undoubtedly now. You internally facepalmed at your dumb comment, adding a laugh at the end in embarrassment only to look away. 

“Uh..yeah.” Taehyung laughed awkwardly. “Me neither, if you didn’t already know.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away, you fidgeting by the couches everyone previously occupied. 

A beat of silence passed as you both exchanged looks between objects in the room and each other, either of you pursing your lips or blowing light raspberries to cut the awkwardness. 

“I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Hm?” You turned towards him, lips just a pout as your doe-eyes awaited him. 

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all. 

“Um, your mother. I apologize if this is intrusive of me, though I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never actually met her. May I ask where she is?” 

You let out a dry chuckle before answering, another detail that didn’t slip Taehyung’s attention. “Trust me, Taehyung, one thing you’ll never have to worry about during this entire ordeal is my mother. She should be the last thing on your mind.” You assured him with what he could tell was your fakest smile, distracting him from the realization you’d said his name for the first time.

“Are you sure? I’ll be meeting her at the wedding so-”

“You won’t. I don’t think you will. Even if she does make it, it takes very little to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll love you.” You stated with a sense of finality, as though the topic should be dropped. 

“Be myself? I’m one of the best businessmen in Korea. It’s my job to get people to like me, easy stuff.” He casually gloated. 

“You don’t only have to be a businessman to do that,” you paused and looked at him, “you can just be Kim Taehyung, too.” You spoke nonchalantly, eyes lingering with his for longer than 5 seconds and he, in fact, had not swallowed you yet. 

Taehyung instantly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback as if your suggestion was something outlandish, absurd, maybe even offending.

Nobody has ever said such a thing to him, not throughout the entirety of his life. 

Taehyung tried his best to recover, searching for another topic of conversation before he was cut off by your rather soft voice, he noticed. 

“Oh, I wanted to give you this.” You stepped towards him, reaching into your purse and retrieving something Taehyung couldn’t quite see. You strided over and extended your hand, Taehyung finding himself even more confused.

“A bandage?” 

“Mhm. For the cut on your finger. You should probably clean it and apply something before putting this on.” You stated nonchalantly once again, offering him a small smile whilst holding out the bandage. 

“Uh...” Taehyung started but couldn’t complete his sentence, lost on how you even observed something as small as his cut and spoke of treating it like it was an actual injury.  

After his struggle to form a sentence, you grew bold enough to gently remove his hand from his pocket and place the bandage in his palm, looking back up at him. You shared a momentary look with his chocolate eyes, instantly scrambling after realizing your hand was still in his.

He has really big hands. 

“We should um...probably go.” You avoided his eyes, stepping aside quickly to pull the door open.

Taehyung’s mind felt displaced, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the fact that someone had actually left him with nothing to say, an extremely rare occurrence in his book.

He was even more displaced looking at the measly wrapper in his hand, then at the cut on the side of his finger, playing through the last 5 minutes of what just happened.

He scoffed to himself.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

It had been 3 weeks since that meeting, not having seen Taehyung once as you wasted your time enjoying single life luxuries before you prepared for one of marriage.

It still felt odd to say such a thing, marriage, because it didn’t even feel like one, or a real one at that. It was forced, fake, a pressured one out of convenience. It felt more like a deal, something Taehyung and yourself had to settle for in order to keep your parents’ minds at ease.

That thought racked your brain all those 3 weeks; Taehyung had to settle for you, he didn’t choose you, just as much as you settled for him and didn’t choose him either. You both had ultimately agreed to the marriage only in an effort to optimize your parents’ happiness, not your own.

You had no clue how he felt, a mystery as much as the Bermuda Triangle, knowing he most certainly had a grand pick of women to choose from and you were most definitely his worst option.

You knew you were suddenly dumped on him, leaving him no choice in the matter as you learned your marriage entailed a beneficial business deal between your fathers’ companies, and Taehyung couldn’t really refuse you with so much on the line.

You had already felt inferior to Taehyung since the moment you met him, though your insecurities seeped further into the crevices of your doubtful mind the more you thought over that sad fact, contemplating a married life with him. In your opinion you were pretty much undesirable to him, Taehyung probably kicking himself knowing he had to unwillingly call you his wife for the rest of his life. 

You just knew you weren’t good enough for him, you would never measure up no matter how hard you’d try and that utterly terrified you. You were confident and independent when it came to yourself, though wedding a near perfect being regarded as one of Seoul’s finest in terms of a CEO and a man? 

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating. 

These were the feelings that swarmed your head as you sulked at your over-the-top engagement party, set up in a prestigious buildings’ gorgeous 37th floor riddled with baroque styling and embellishments, classical music gracing some of Seoul’s wealthiest patrons as their flutes clinked and snobby chatter filled the hall. 

It was all extremely high-status, reeking of upper class supremacy and quite frankly, it made you want to throw up.

You distracted yourself by bringing any and all types of alcohol to your lips, trying to focus on anything but your daunting thoughts.

The entire night you hadn’t talked to Taehyung, both of you having been too occupied with the numerous amounts of people meeting and congratulating you. This became a genuine nuisance as you’d mentioned before, this marriage was of convenience, one that brought families and companies together merrily and constituted hundreds of people attending your engagement party you didn’t really know.

Your friends were excited, over-the-moon you bagged a man like Taehyung and chastised you for not having told them about your engagement to him earlier. Your relatives similarly scolded you, pinching your cheeks and praising Taehyung like he was a God while they scrunched their noses at you for concealing him.

How could I tell you when I didn’t even know myself?, you thought.

It was funny they praised your ‘choice’ of a fiancé, positive nobody was saying the same to Taehyung without at least lying. The public only knew of you as your father’s daughter, never having seen you due to your vehement absence from anything remotely related to his company, and much of the business world in general. 

You weren’t part of that world, a world of greed and money-driven lunatics. It just wasn't you. It never suited you, left you with a bad taste in your mouth you constantly grimaced at and thought maybe you were the insane one for not understanding its flavour. As you grew older, however, you came to realize it simply wasn’t the path meant for you, someone who valued the independence and achievement of earning something for yourself, by yourself.

Ever since the inception of that principal, your young teenage self resolved you didn’t want to rely on your father’s wealth, especially not his influence or power to achieve your own place in life.

Your father had worked determinedly hard for years in order to stand as high he does now, warranting your acute admiration for your role model of a father, his now successful architecture business landing him a few buildings part of the Seoul skyline.

And after finally achieving his dream, it suddenly morphed into your own aspiration. His hard work drove you to want your own design part of Seoul’s breathtaking scenery as well, by means of your own effort, your own hard work. You didn’t want your father’s help. It felt wrong, like you were cheating if you used him to gain your place and so you condemned your life to one that separated yours and his. 

So you lived, worked and earned money without any of his influence.

You worked for an average architecture company where you felt comfortable, happy that you were away from the suffocating high-status business of your family. And although your detachment left your identity a mystery to many, your situation on the other hand was an extremely infamous one.

‘The-runaway-heiress’, was your staple trademark. The judgmental comments about your choice of life and the insults it warranted were never-ending, subjected to that criticism all your life.

There was no doubt Taehyung was hearing all of that, people probably warning him to step out of the marriage before it was too late. You weren’t like Taehyung, who was perfect, desirable, someone everyone either wanted or wanted to be. It left you glad and quite frankly, proud to be wedding a man of such caliber and incredibility, though left you wondering why in God’s name he would ever agree to marry someone like you; average, average and well, average.

“That’s your 5th shot, Y/N, slow the fuck down.” Your best friend Hana’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, snatching the shot glass from your grasp. “It wouldn’t be cool if you were trashed at your own party, dummy.” 

Her sudden appearance brought a smile to your face. “I know, I just don’t feel well.” You sighed by the counter of the bar, seated atop a stool as you circled an empty shot glass mindlessly. 

“I get you, there’s like, hundreds of people here and you’re probably hearing a lot of different shit.” Hana appealed to you, having read your emotions like an open book. “Speaking of people, I wanted to ask, what’s up with Taehyung and his stare?”

You stifled a snort, looking at Hana’s incredulous face. “It’s just a habit of his. He stares at everyone.”

“Okay... sure, but I didn’t mean everyone, I meant you.” Hana emphasized, comically pointing.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her, arm leaning against the bar’s counter as you questioned, “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really stop staring at you, which is kinda weird. Unless you like that, I don’t judge people’s kinks.” Hana mockingly held her hands up in surrender, gauging a reaction out of you. 

You instantly grimaced, “It’s not a kink, Hana. Nice joke by the way, wanna sign up for SNL with that one?”

“I’m serious! I’ve been catching him just looking at you and I don’t know if it’s weird or hot.” Hana informed as you became more puzzled, her becoming oddly excited, “Awh, maybe he’s concerned with how much you keep drinking! That’s so romantic.” She chimed, looking off into the distance dreamily.

“Shut the fuck up, he wouldn’t do that.” You smacked her arm, snatching your shot glass back from her. “Besides, you’re one of the rare people who knows this marriage is fake, you know he doesn’t care.”

“Jheez, way to kill romance?” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking your arm in rebuttal before continuing. “I’m serious, though. This may be fake but he really does keep looking at you, and I don’t know what it means.” Hana speculated, contorting her lips as if in thought.

“It means nothing, Hana. You’re just seeing things.”

“Then why has he been staring at you depressed by the bar for the last half an hour?”

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

“Are you clueless or just dumb? He’s been talking to someone for 30 minutes but most of the time he’s been looking at you, and he still is, how haven’t you noticed?”

You creased your eyebrows in surprise as you slowly lowered your shot glass. You turned away from Hana to scan the small crowds of people mingling, eating, drinking in the hall.

You searched the room, drink still in hand until your eyes caught tall, dark and handsome in his finely pressed suit, casually standing with a drink in his hand by a table speaking to someone. You nearly jumped when your eyes locked with Taehyung’s, every cell in your body caught off guard.

What made your heart specifically race was the way he didn’t even look away from you. He held your gaze, casually conversing with the person in front of him, eyeing you until he finally cracked a small smirk before turning back to his companion.

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

“See, weird or hot? Am I even allowed to say hot?” Hana blurted as she reveled in your reaction. “And you really thought I was joking. You don’t believe anything I say, I could tell you the world’s ending and you wouldn’t believe me. I could tell you aliens finally invaded the planet and you wouldn’t believe me until the green motherfuckers knocked on your door themselves and-”

“Hana, shut the fuck up.” You cut her off abruptly and made a face at her. “Why did you even come here?”

“Grumpy, aren’t we?” She flashed you a sarcastic look before sighing. “Your dad wanted me to find you. You and Taehyung have to meet someone important, so you should stop drinking like an alcoholic, dumbass.” Hana informed hastily as she grabbed the shot glass from you and downed it herself.

“Your dad’s by the entrance, go before he gets mad!” She shooed you away, pushing you up until you whisper-yelled and smacked at her to let you go. 

You began stepping towards the entrance, smoothing over your dress and this was the moment you realized you may have drank a little too much. You were quick to reprimand yourself, cursing your unprofessional behavior as your inner equilibrium became slightly woozy, senses drowning out a bit, every sound hazed over with a buzz in your veins.

You sucked in a breath to pull yourself together, knowing your dad valued this person enough you and Taehyung had to meet them together. 

Taehyung.

You decided to glance in his direction, lips pursing seeing he wasn’t in his previous spot. You chose to ignore it, walking along until you felt a looming presence behind you, almost having time to acknowledge it before a hand suddenly touched the small of your back. 

“Looking for me?”

You nearly squealed, jumping with a hand ready to punish before calming down at the sight of Taehyung, sighing with relief. “Jheez, could you use my name? I thought you were a stranger.” 

“Well, hello to you too.” Taehyung quipped sarcastically. “And why would a stranger touch your back? Of course it’d be the only man in this room marrying you.” Taehyung narrowly eyed you, scrutinizing your reaction with his hand still pressed to you.

“People do a lot of whatever the hell they want, Taehyung.” You responded turning away from him, heels clacking as you continued to pace towards where your father stood. “W-why’d you do that, anyway?” 

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows. “Because we’re engaged?”

“It’s not real, though.”

“It’s as real as it gets.” Taehyung finalized, making it a statement to smile at everyone you passed, to which you realized just how many pairs of eyes glued themselves to you. “This may not feel like a real marriage to us, but to the rest of the world it is.” 

He then suddenly leaned himself down to your height and lowered his tone, breath just ghosting your ear. “Y/N, we have to make this seem real, it’s the only way we’ll survive.” Taehyung was the closest he’s ever been to you, and the deep baritone of his voice as he called your name did absolutely nothing but manifest butterflies in your chest. 

Why was his voice so deep?

You shook the thought out of your head, ultimately choosing not to say anything because he was in fact, correct. You grinned widely continuing to mask the truth of your arrangements, leaning into him more as you settled for his hand on your back.

You’d noticed it before, but his hand felt particularly large against you now that he was so close. You glanced at his other hand resting by his side, impressed by how masculine they appeared; long fingers with running veins and a roughness to them, sculpted so well you were sure they deserved to be referred to as art. It tickled your giddy side for a second when they seemed to perfectly contrast your more feminine and smaller hands. 

It was kinda cute. 

You neglected your thoughts once you neared your father, warm-heartedly conversing with a well-dressed man you just about recognized. 

“Ah, there you both are!” Your father cheered, reaching out his arm so he could envelop you in a side-hug, returning Taehyung’s bow and addressment.  

“Dad, I heard you wanted us to meet someone?” You perked up in a superficial tone, at least attempting to act as though everything was fine and dandy in your life; maybe owing it to the alcohol to endure all the falsehoods.

“Yes, Y/N-ie, I wanted you to meet Mr. Won. Chang-in, my lovely daughter and whom I guess you already know, her fiancé and CEO of Kim Enterprises, Kim Taehyung.” Your father proudly presented you both.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Won, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung was the first to address the man, extending his hand and bowing as he greeted him. You were almost taken aback by how polite he could be, the way his charming smile graced his features and attractively displayed his perfect teeth. His manner of speech and etiquette were all refined with a high degree of professionalism as well, internally gawking at his duality.  

Wasn’t he acting all entitled with you just now? 

“Nice to meet you as well!” You collected yourself and cheered, a little baffled as to why Taehyung still rested his hand against your back. “I’m hoping my father has only said good things.” You earned a laugh from the group, Mr. Won responding by receiving your hand with a firm shake. 

“Ah, Namhyun, you forgot to mention how beautiful your daughter has grown, and your future son-in-law has me jealous! What a handsome and accomplished young man, the perfect match, the two of them.” Mr. Won praised you both kindly.

You and Taehyung both smiled and thanked him humbly, feeling some heat collect in your cheeks upon Mr. Won’s words. You two? The perfect match? Unless he believes a rock and a Greek statue belong together, then he’s absolutely correct. 

Other than that, you chest swarms with butterflies thinking you’re now referred to as ‘two’. 

Taehyung for some odd reason encircles the curve of your waist suddenly, pulling you closer to him. You last minute sputter at the intimate action before leaning into him, one arm nervously encasing his torso as the other rests against his chest. 

You feel him tense underneath you. 

“Aish, you’re such a flatterer. Y/N-ie, do you remember Mr. Won? My friend from university? You haven’t seen him in a while.” Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, trying to jog your memory. 

“Oh, you mean Mr. Won from SNU?” You suddenly remembered, looking to your father for confirmation. 

“Yes, so you do remember!” 

“Of course I do, how could I forget!” You smiled brightly and returned your gaze to the familiar man. “Mr. Won used to sneak me ice cream when you wouldn’t let me have any, Dad.” You scolded him with a playful jab to his arm, inviting more laughter. “I apologize for not recognizing you right away, it’s been a long time, Mr. Won, forgive me.” You solemnly apologized, Mr. Won giving you a look of understanding. 

“Ah, forget it, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, although since it’s been a long time I hope you remember my son? He should be here somewhere..” Mr. Won trailed as his eyes fished over the grand hall, scanning around. 

“Your son..” You repeated to yourself, realizing there was a familiar connection itching at your mind, he was your age actually-

Wait. 

Oh God, not him. 

Anything but him. 

You felt raw panic seep into the spaces between your ribs, your chest filling with a constricting feeling of anxiety you couldn't shake off. Your heart picked up speed and the alcohol coursing through your veins didn’t help your judgement or memory at all, mind fogged over with the poison we dare call alcohol.  

You felt stupid, so utterly stupid. How could you forget Mr. Won and who his Godforsaken son was? 

You felt an anxiety attack riddling you, shifting your weight on your feet as you tried to bite back your uneven breathing. You just couldn’t see this man, especially in a situation where you were standing next to your husband-to-be. 

Taehyung wasn’t so invested in the conversation before him, mindlessly nodding along before he felt you physically freeze next to him, his glance to the side confirming your pale look, watching as your panicked eyes faltered to the floor and revealed... fear? 

He registered your odd shifting and your failed attempts at plastering a smile, confused if you knew this guy and if you did, why were you freaking out so much?

Were you in love with him or something? 

The thought minutely bugged him until he watched you turn straight up uncomfortable, horrified when Mr. Won called out his son’s name. 

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!” 

You stopped breathing when you heard the name, eyes going wide as you avoided eye contact with anyone in the group, but caught Taehyung’s undivided attention. He grew curious when Kiseok sauntered over to the group, your hand on his chest suddenly squeezing his suit as the mysterious man greeted everyone respectfully.

Taehyung watched as his intrigued eyes locked on you, eyebrows perking up amusedly as his lips curved into a smile Taehyung honestly couldn’t admit to liking. 

“Y/N? Wow, long time no see. It’s been what, a year?” The man Kiseok called out happily, like there was absolutely no problem occurring here but as Taehyung felt your hand clutch onto his suit, lips just about quivering before you forced a smile, he knew there was most certainly a problem. 

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, small, and Taehyung found himself wondering how a courageous person like you was all of a sudden cowering. 

He’d heard it all night, all the accounts of your other life away from the business world. He wasn’t going to lie, he heard a multitude of opinions concerning you, many of which including either looking down on you or telling Taehyung there’s many other, more powerful women in business he could’ve been marrying instead. 

But Taehyung didn’t care for their opinions, he found you the most powerful woman he could ever marry, and agreed to do so because of that very prospect. Sure, you were estranged from the business scene and practically abandoned any role you’d play in your father’s company in order to pursue your own personal aspirations, but if anything, Taehyung found it highly commendable. 

Taehyung knew it took guts to do what you did, a bold and daring act that no other heir or future heir of a wealthy company could ever think of doing, including himself. 

What he found to appreciate most was your unwillingness to give in, where you had to have heard all the back-handed and snobby comments, yet you still held your head up high, remained rooted and adamant in keeping your current way of life. It instantly signaled to him you were courageous, fearless, unable to be stopped in your tracks.

So when he watched you become smaller and smaller the more you stood in the vicinity of this Kiseok, he knew something was sincerely wrong. 

“Ah yes, it’s been quite some time. Why don’t we step away from you three? You could do some catching up.” Your father urged as he motioned Mr. Won to step away with him. You lightly addressed them only to have your hands neglect Taehyung entirely and start fidgeting, attempting to calm your nerves as the alcohol inebriated your system and magnified your anxiety by tenfold. 

“Ah, yes, Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Enterprises. I’ve been meaning to meet you.” Kiseok extended his hand as his voice irked you with every syllable, trying your best to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

Taehyung reached out his hand in response uneagerly, giving a small shake while wondering why you let him go. “That’s news to me, nice to meet you.” Taehyung responded, already feeling an intense aura of discomfort and tension between you both, sensing he was missing out on something that seemed 6 ft deep. 

“Likewise. Y/N..” Kiseok suddenly turned towards you, making you wince. You painted on your smile as you lifted your vision. “Kiseok.” 

“How’ve you been?” 

“Better than ever. You?” 

“Marvelous, just wondering what your life’s looked like since I haven’t been in it.”

“I believe I said better than ever, didn’t I?”

Kiseok scoffed unamused, “So a year, huh? In all that time you suddenly found yourself a fiancé, and Kim Taehyung at that?” Kiseok seemed to be making light-hearted conversation to anyone outside of your group, though you knew deep down the hostility behind his words.

“Yeah, I did. It just happened.” You shrugged, gaining the confidence to counter him. “And you? Plan on putting a ring on any of your girls? Maybe the 5th or 7th one you liked?” You sarcastically questioned, furrowing your brows in mock contemplation. 

“No, you know I’ve always had my eye on one girl when it came to marriage.” Kiseok eyed you knowingly, purposefully, like he was trying to make it obvious.

You snorted and glared at him, “If I remember correctly, your attitude said otherwise.” hatred began boiling under your skin. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second, memories between you two coming back in flashes. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Taehyung’s hand suddenly entangled with yours, pulling you towards him almost defensively. 

You were surprised, looking at your connected hands and back up at Taehyung. He returned your look, peering down at you as he smiled warmly, affectionately. 

“I’m sorry, Kisook? Was it? My future wife and I have plans for tonight. May you excuse us?” Taehyung didn’t even let Kiseok respond before he was pulling you away, in complete shock at his first lack of manners you’d ever seen. You were only left to watch Taehyung as he lead you along, gaining the timely opportunity to realize he was taller than Kiseok, and in fact significantly taller than you. 

Taehyung was a large man in general, you noticed. His shoulders looked broad from behind, accentuated by the fit of his suit which also emphasized the expanse of his chest, tastefully exposing his sculpted neck. His legs were long, proportioned perfectly in accordance with the rest of his model-like figure, which was ideally fit and contained just the right amount of muscle. 

Dear God, you took your time with this one. 

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had pulled you into a secluded hallway or that you were ogling him when he suddenly stopped, turning in your direction and snapping you out of a near fever dream. 

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight. 

“Who the fuck was that?” 

“What?”

“That douche, who was that?” Taehyung inquired slightly pissed, in need of the asshole’s identity after watching whatever shitshow he didn’t pay for. 

“Nobody, Taehyung, he shouldn’t concern you.” You looked away from him, pouting in a way that made Taehyung momentarily notice the plush of your lips. 

Again?, was all he could think, first, your mother, and now this guy? Just how many people did you have bad connections with and he needed to ignore? 

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you? 

“Are you kidding me? He concerns me now, your mother I can understand but this guy? Nothing to me. I could step on him.” Taehyung proclaimed confidently and stood up broader, conviction written all over his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his remark, resembling the thought you had earlier. “I was just thinking, you’re a lot taller than him.” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but bite back a smile, watching you giggle like a shy high schooler and his ears gladly welcomed the soft sound. “Damn straight I am.” He adjusted the jacket of his suit suavely. It was then he remembered what his other hand was doing; still holding yours. 

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. 

He squeezed your hand a little tighter and yanked you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crashed into him, all up in each other’s personal space.

Your eyes widened in complete surprise. 

 “So you were thinking about me, huh?” Taehyung teased with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face. 

You ignored the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneering at him. “Shut up, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re taller.” You forced space between you two and tried snatching your hand from him, but his grip transformed into an iron lock. 

“Says the one who was thinking about me.” 

“Taehyung, shut-” You almost huffed out but as soon as you stepped away, your copious consumption of alcohol suddenly attacked you all at once, vertigo making you lose your balance until Taehyung reached out to steady you. 

“Jheez, did you have to drink tonight?” Taehyung chastised you as you fell into him, head spinning with disorientation and growing flimsier by the second. “You’re probably a lightweight at your size.”

“I am not a lightweight. You don’t even know how much I drank, it was a lot.” You bit back in rebuttal, hooking onto his taut forearms as he supported you. 

“But I did see.” He voiced barely above a whisper, causing you to snap your vision up at him incredulously. “What?” 

“Nothing, it shouldn’t concern you.” Taehyung mocked, though still tried to fix you onto your own footing.  

You didn’t even get to scrutinize him further when you felt another round of dizziness plague you, balance faltering again. Taehyung huffed out and finally flanked you on his side, arm encasing your shoulders as he adjusted you. “Okay Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, you should eat something.” He fit you beside him, beginning to walk you towards the main hall. 

Taehyung in this moment didn’t understand what he was doing, utterly clueless as to what was fueling his actions. He was uncertain why he found himself.. caring? He didn’t even know you, yet he couldn’t help but become a little concerned when he watched you down drinks like it was New Year’s Eve. 

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

What was he even thinking when he dragged you away from that Kisuk guy? Why did he feel like protecting you all of a sudden? A near sense of possessiveness? He wasn’t even your real husband. 

It started giving Taehyung a headache. This was all strange, a foreign concept he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t know if it was the result of his considerate personality or only manifested solely because of you.

The same way Taehyung dealt with his inner turmoil, you dealt with yours; you were always so adamant on independence though ironically found yourself leaning on Taehyung.

Oddly, you let him carefully guide you back into the hall with no protests. 

It was the day of the wedding. 

You wish you could recall your emotions throughout the day, certain there would be at least a sliver of a positive one. Though as you remained unmoving, nearly catatonic, unresponsive to your surroundings, you knew there wouldn’t be a single happy memory in the tsunami of sorrow that attacked you today. 

Emotions of grief plagued consistently as you realized the loss of everything you valued most in your life. Your happiness, your freedom, your ability to choose. The stripping of all those bundled into an stifling wad in your chest that left you in a perpetual state of wanting to cry.

The sting in your heart when you realized your mother didn’t bother to come, the excruciating smile you forced onto your features when Taehyung’s mother delicately placed the veil atop your head, the secret tears you shed after adorning your body with a wedding dress you didn’t even choose; it all left you internalizing feelings of utter agony. 

And none of it was your real choice. 

Even the flowers at the wedding weren’t your favourite. 

This day was horrifying. You couldn’t believe you prided yourself on your independence, refusing to give in despite numerous challenges and never taking a word of what anyone said to you. Even when someone begged you to change or come back to your old life, you always chose for yourself. You never allowed someone to push you around, seldom coerced into anything solely based on the wishes of another. 

Yet here you were, standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having easily followed every word of your father’s and sacrificed your deepest principles in order to make him happy, to appease and live up to his expectations that weren’t your own. 

It was utterly frightening, appalling. As if you had lost the one true commendable feature of the intricate character you were, suddenly lost the acclamation of others even if they didn’t know the true nature of your marriage. 

But what disgusted you the most was truly, that you had lost respect for yourself. 

These grim thoughts were the ones that attached themselves to you as you hesitantly hooked your arm with your father’s. You used every ounce of strength to not flee, to remain here, to still walk down that isle with your head held high like you always have despite abandoning every foundation of the character you’d spent years working on.  

You didn’t care that your eyes watered, masking them with the facade of happy tears from the blushing bride. You didn’t care when your father looked incredibly concerned and wondered what was so wrong, you didn’t care how sorrowful you may have appeared to anyone at this ironically glamorous event. 

Though what you did care for was that you couldn’t hold your head up as you walked down the isle, vision fixated on the ground as your tears betrayed you, spilling out at the traumatizing feeling of not being able to stand tall like you always did, something stripping you of your self-reassurance, your strength, your confidence.  

It all spelled the requiem of your soul as you reached the end, dwelling in the impossibility this was happening to you until you felt the touch of Taehyung’s fingertips, guiding you up the stairs. It was then confirmed to you this was in fact real, part of your new reality you had no choice but to accept. 

You suddenly felt eternal gratitude for the veil that now covered your face, hiding the tears you cried at mourning the loss of everything you worked for.

While the priest’s words were read, you didn’t exchange a single look with Taehyung, knowing you’d only want to evaporate into the air, to run away at light speed or have someone in a turn-of-events suddenly take your life, just so you didn't have to face the humility of giving up the life you’d spent blood, sweat and tears building if you looked him in the eye. 

You felt the weight of your unknown future crushing you, pushing you towards the precipice as you gripped Taehyung’s hands harder to ground yourself. 

You were to rely on Taehyung, to share a bond with him you had never spent time cultivating, expected to live a life next to him while never being able to truly understand him, know him, love him. The natural process of falling in love now tainted with the coercion of a pressurized marriage, losing the opportunity to achieve any true sense of love. You’d never experience finding the one anymore, your soulmate, the other end of your red string of fate. 

That realization made your tears spill harder, disconnecting your hand from Taehyung’s to prevent your choked sobs becoming audible, holding your palm against your quivering lips. 

To anyone beyond you and Taehyung, it would look as though you were crying tears of happiness, joyously weeping at your matrimony with the love of your life, though as Taehyung felt the shaking of your hands, your refusal to meet his gaze as you reluctantly walked down the isle, the agonizing pain he could see through the sheer of your veil, he knew you were far from happy. 

He couldn’t help but purse his lips together tightly, knowing you were probably swallowing insurmountable torment down your throat because of this marriage, and tears pricked at his own eyes finding himself able to relate. 

He wasn’t just upset for you or himself, it was the entire situation, quite frankly the fucking world. The fact that the universe planned this as your destiny, his destiny, that the happiness of your parents and two companies came at the expense of both yours and his.

He knew you didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t the reason just as much as you weren’t the reason either, it was the arbitrary nature of the arrangement. That whatever version of true love and happily ever after you and Taehyung had separately dreamed of, it could never come to life. 

Even if the company meant everything to Taehyung, his CEO position more important than whatever position he’d play as some husband, seldom having time to consider love and relationships, he still harboured the same wants and desires any human would. A partner, a companion he truly loved with whom he’d start a family eventually, create a life for them and himself defined by love and comfort.

Though Taehyung only knew now you would both die with your decision-making capabilities robbed of you, bound to each other forcibly without the ardor of real love. 

Taehyung’s every thought was proven correct when the two of you exchanged your vows in near strangled chokes and shaky tones, appearing as happy emotions to the guests of the wedding though only you two knowledgeable of each other’s suffering. 

Your vision finally met Taehyung’s once you heard the rawness in his voice, your miserable emotions doubling when you registered he was just in the same pain as you. It was in that moment the priest’s words became audible and rang loud in both your ears, suddenly grounding you two to earth and reminding you of your reality. 

“You may kiss the bride.”

Both of your eyes grievously locked for a moment of horrified realization; that you were seconds away from going through with this, throwing each other’s lives away for the utilitarian benefit, abandoning any sense of choice in whom you both would spend a lifetime with.

Taehyung swallowed thickly as he removed your veil, feeling his eyes fill with tears again when he laid them upon your utterly devastated, tear-stained face. You were using every nerve in your body to stop yourself from sobbing and caving into the ominous thought of fleeing the ceremony.  

Taehyung’s sight wondered to your lips as they still quivered, nearly swollen red at the intensity in which you bit them, awaiting the kiss you were certain would be filled with frustration and hatred, hatred for the mud you were dragging him through, hatred for pressuring him into suddenly valuing something more than his work and his company, to suddenly become a husband to you. 

Though as he watched the terror flashing through your eyes, tears watering your lash line, he knew he could never feel anything so ardently negative towards you, remembering exactly what he was stripping you of. 

The life you built on your own, defying any and everyone’s expectations of yourself, cursing your heir status to hell, your strength, your independence. Now? Your life was bound to his, bound to one where you were obliged to sacrifice yourself for your father’s company and the upper class cesspool you’d spent so long trying to run away from. 

So as Taehyung began closing the gap between you two, nearing your shaking figure, he resolved he wouldn’t make this hard. He would try, try to accept that his life now entailed you, would try to work towards the balance his father insisted he needed, try to understand that you were now part of his priorities and could never simply ignore you.  

He glided his thumbs against the back of your hands that held his pacifyingly, leaning down until he was just inches from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. He unexpectedly spoke quietly, meaningfully, seconds away from sealing the deal of an uncertain future, though, remained certain of this one thing. 

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N, I promise.” And he kissed you in a single breath, no haste, no pressure, only the gentle touch of his lips as they met yours, soft and light. 

Maybe Taehyung didn’t know the exact feelings behind his promise, but he knew the meaning; that no matter the arrangement, the non-existent feelings, the loss of choice, he would at least take care of you like any husband would, a good husband.  

He at least owed you that.  

You were left shocked at the nature of his kiss, Taehyung’s warm lips connecting with yours tenderly. You were convinced the tears you saw in his eyes were enough to assert he hated this, frustrated he had to sell his soul, wishing to only rush the kiss so he could call it a day and ignore you for the rest of his life. 

Though what you never expected was the promise he made, or the way he kissed you with such intimacy you found yourself melting into his touch, reciprocating. He kissed you like you were fragile, locking your lips in a way that solidified his promise, as if out of all the empty vows you spoke today, this was the one, true vow he would keep. His lips felt plush against yours, catching his mouth just a little more before the bittersweet disconnection. 

You and Taehyung exchanged a poignant look, small smiles decorating both your faces with a mutual understanding swimming in your eyes as you gripped each other’s hands. You let his promise permeate the air between you two, finding solace in his words as the applause of everyone attending the ceremony filled the hall.   

Maybe it was the warm way Taehyung always pressed his hand to the small of your back when you spoke to others the whole night, maybe the way he veered you away from excessive amounts of alcohol with a light-hearted scolding considering that last time you drank, or maybe even the way he gently held you during your first dance..

Maybe it was all these considerate, kinds act that made you view Taehyung in a less negative light and rather a favourable one, that maybe he wouldn’t be the asshole CEO you’d first accused him of being.  

You would also be an idiot to not mention how completely and utterly handsome he was, looks carved by the Greeks themselves, quite possibly the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

And maybe all that accumulated into your assured opinion that when it came to consummating your marriage with Taehyung, you’d have no qualms or worries whatsoever. You would be absolutely willing, ready to take the night on and maybe even have some fun for yourself with whom you could tell was a really, really nice guy.

Though as Taehyung walked calmly in front of you towards your hotel suite, reaching into his suit pocket for the card key he’d retrieved at the front desk to swipe against the lock, your chest clogged with a crushing feeling of anxiety you couldn’t subdue. 

These weren’t the same nerves of maybe being not pretty enough, body insecurities or fear of what to expect from Taehyung, no, these nerves came from the utter panic of having to experience sex with another man.

Especially since your last partner. 

It always started with your permission, that wasn’t the issue, Though what left you afraid, so utterly frightened with the thought of spending a night with a man like this came from the treatment you received from that partner. 

Safe to say, you weren’t treated kindly. Far from that, actually, you were treated as though you had no needs or were a means of simple use. Your last partner was the opposite of giving, he was selfish, self-absorbed and only concerned himself with his own pleasure, going on and on only until he was satisfied and neglected you in every sense of the word, sometimes even refusing to listen to you if you protested. 

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful. 

You knew he slept around, a lot, it was the number one reason you never agreed to actually date him, never make things official. 

But the reason you would end up sleeping with him was because of the most perfectly imperfect concept among the human race; love. You believed every time with him was a new chance to make that love real, that it was the genuine manifestation of your feelings for one another, thinking maybe he wasn’t the asshole he always portrayed himself as and could man up enough to love you unconditionally. 

And he completely reeled you in, made you fall in love too quickly and made you believe he was capable of love. This grew exponentially when you were often described as ‘the different one’, the one he always came back to, that you were special. You clung onto those words as much as you could, convinced each time you were in fact the one for him, that maybe one day, he’d wake up and abandon his fuckboy lifestyle and mature.

But everyday that went by, every promise that was never fulfilled, every word that wasn’t met with an action, and especially after every hook up that resulted in nothing new, you began to understand you were everyone’s favourite role in a Shakespearean play. 

The fool. 

You were a joke to believe anything he said, the most naive person on earth to think you were any different from the others, when every night simply ended in rough fucks, virtually no orgasm and miniscule aftercare.

It left you essentially scarred, traumatized that every man in the world was built like this. It didn’t help that whenever you look back, many of your ex partners were of the same cut, the same trope of assholes that don’t seem as bad but end up being exactly so. 

It was what made you swallow thickly as Taehyung opened the door to the suite, holding it open as he moved aside to let you enter first. You walked forward and unintentionally brushed against him, realizing how much smaller you were in comparison to him all over again. 

He towered over you, and it made you more nervous. 

You looked up at him momentarily and quietly thanked him as you stepped inside, setting your sights on the large, king sized bed situated on one side of the room, a lounging area with couches to the other side which lead to a bathroom. Seoul’s breathtaking skyline was visible in the dark of the night through wall-to-ceiling windows opposite to you, covered by flowy, sheer curtains. 

You took a deep breath, trying to remind yourself Taehyung was not the same. Not all men are the same, you can’t inflict the mistakes and wrongdoings of one man onto another, categorize them into one kind. You wanted to think this way, and you knew it was the humane way to think. 

But as the memories of those heart-aching nights filled your head, the empty words, the lack of care or concern, the neglect, the feelings of pure abandonment and use only caused your heart to beat profusely in your chest, clutching onto the neckline of your dress to breathe. 

What if Taehyung really was no different?

It then suddenly hit you you didn’t know him. All you knew of Taehyung was that he was a fiercely successful business man, sitting atop Seoul’s most prestigious with Godly looks and a stare that could kill a man. You remembered your initial feelings about him; his stare in fact intimidated you, quite frankly all of him intimidated you, he was the epitome of perfection and you were far from that very notion. It left you thinking you didn’t measure up, and that he could view you in a dissimilar light than you viewed him; an unfavorable one. 

He could simply not want you, but is forced to.  

You’d observed his kind behavior and actions over the odd two days you met him, though that was exactly the inculpatory factor; you had only met him twice. You didn’t know what he would be like alone, when it was just the two of you, when there weren’t eyes scrutinizing him and cameras snapping shots of his every move. 

You didn’t know how he would be like in the bedroom, either. 

Your mind raced as you conflicted with yourself, trying to understand that Taehyung could be different, though apprehensive with the miniscule knowledge you actually had of him. 

You discerned after that last asshole of a partner you needed the love and care of a real partner, someone who would tend to your needs, adore you in the midst of their actions, be a giver and not just a receiver.  

And you didn’t know if Taehyung would be that partner. 

“Y/N...” Taehyung called out to you rather softly as he removed his suit jacket, the rustling of the cloth signaling he had indeed done so. His footsteps were hard to miss, the soles of his shoes sounding against the hardwood floor as he neared your lonesome figure standing in the middle of the room. 

Your breathing quickened with nearly every step he took, attempting to resolve the civil war you were battling within. You were trying to convince yourself Taehyung would be a nice man, a nice husband; though couldn’t help but feel deflated by the fact it was all mainly coerced out of him.

Your thoughts overwhelmed you as Taehyung finally stood behind you, mere inches from your back as he watched you from behind, unbeknownst of any feelings or thoughts currently riddling you.

He hesitated, though gently placed his hand against your bare arm, the sudden warmth of his hand against your skin causing you to flinch. He peered down at your smaller self squarely focusing in front of you, anticipating your response. He grew slightly soft when you tentatively looked over your shoulders, clearly teary-eyed. 

Taehyung couldn’t miss how scared you seemed, and he his heart inexplicably stung at the thought you were afraid of him. 

“We don’t have to do this.” Taehyung’s voice was low and resembled warm honey, reverberating in a way that made you ease up. 

You worked towards a stable voice. “W-we don’t?” 

“No, we don’t” His voice held no disappointment, only the intention of seemingly wanting to assure you, firm and oddly comforting. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to keep your tone leveled, clutching your hand over your mouth as you swallowed your emotions. 

“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.” 

You strangely felt the desire to hold his hand that rested against you, though you ignored the urge and simply stepped out of his touch, clutching your chest tightly in an effort to cower away from him. But it was here you suddenly remembered that he kissed you, and the way he did so. 

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush. 

“Do you mean that?” You’d finally turned to meet his eyes, his face only visible by the moonlight illuminating the room. He seemed to have retracted his hand and stood with both tucked in his pockets, relaxed. 

This became the first time you noticed just how ravishing he looked tonight. 

His dark hair was slicked back loosely and left enough pieces to fall as a comma, graciously exposing his forehead, his Tom Ford suit attractively hugged his model-like body, watch and accessories accentuating his expensive look. 

His features were casted over by soft lighting, somehow adding to his beauty as the glow made him appear... less intimidating, dare you say warm or inviting. 

His expression was funnily enough, one that you could actually read. He held no contempt, no impatience or anger, only a hint of consideration as his calm eyes looked at you. His face may have been predominantly blank, void of a smile, though certainty held a form of reassurance.  

“Of course I do, why would I do anything with an unwilling person?”

You scoffed lightly, “Not a lot of people would say that.” Your eyes faltered from Taehyung’s and clutched yourself tighter, expression completely telling of trauma.

Taehyung instantly picked up on it, eyebrows slightly furrowing at your words though softening once registering their weight. He felt an overwhelming sense of apology take him, thinking of his next sentence before his mind oddly flashed back to the night of the engagement party.

“Y/N, did Kiseok..?” Taehyung trailed hesitantly. 

You winced at his line of thinking, “No, no...not what you’re thinking,” you immediately denied. “Just, shitty experiences.”

“Shitty, as in...?”

“As in only seeking self-satisfaction, neglect, lies, infidelity. Can we go to sleep?” You deflected with a heavy sigh and a hand at your temple, the day’s events catching up to you.

Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Yeah, sleep. We both need that.” His eyes then landed on the bed, registering even if it were large enough you two could sleep apart, he still opted for caution. 

“Um.. you can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“No, don’t do that.” You replied quickly. “I can’t sleep on a king-sized bed all by myself, it’s huge.” You side-eyed the massive mattress and laughed a little, lightening the heavy aura casted over the room. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Don’t worry, Taehyung. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” You smiled at him lightly and received a small one from him, both your eyes mirroring the same sense of understanding you exchanged at the altar. 

“I’ll let you wash up first, your overnight bag should be in the bathroom closet.” Taehyung informed, pointing towards the direction of your things. 

“Thank you.” You voiced with an amount of warmth that made Taehyung want to genuinely smile, though crushed the weird urge and nodded agreeably instead.

You began walking away from him until a nuisance suddenly occurred to you, cursing yourself as you came to a full stop. “Um, Taehyung.. I forgot but could you..?” You angled your back towards him to call out to the ribbons tying the back of your dress, knowing you would’ve taken 20 years just to untie your bodice yourself. 

The fact that you weren’t looking directly at Taehyung made him feel relieved, glad he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the his eyes slightly widened. He was quick to reprimand himself, it’s just a woman’s dress, why the hell are you shocked? 

Taehyung swallowed dryly before replying, “Uh, yeah I’ll--I’ll do that.” He walked towards you sparingly and positioned himself behind you.

He’d noticed it before, but you were relatively small compared to him in size and it continued to poke at his brain, maybe even momentarily think it was cute. 

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

Taehyung exhaled before his hands carefully made for the silk ribbons, his tentative fingers fiddling with the ties until he eventually began loosening each one. He started unlooping your bodice, breathing out considerably when each loop began exposing your back inch by inch.  

Taehyung’s sweet, hot breath fanned your skin, tensing each time as your every nerve went haywire feeling just how close he was. His slender fingers brushed against your bare skin here and there, making heat collect in your face.

You grew even hotter when your kiss with him suddenly crept back into your mind, unknowing of the reason why excitement and electricity shot throughout your body because of it. The way his soft, full lips met yours, mouthed at you tastefully repeated in your head, making you extremely nervous at how much a measly kiss from him was occupying your mind; it was just a kiss. 

Taehyung found himself tensing by the intimacy of the moment, remembering the way he so boldly kissed you. He found that he liked the plush of your lips, the way he had to bend down to your smaller height to lock lips; and it made him feel strange. 

How the hell was he taking interest in something other than his work? No, this isn’t interest, Taehyung thought, and would spend however long denying it. 

He’d finished the task throughout all his thinking, unrealizing of how proximal he was to you. He oddly hated that the moment was over, coming back down to Earth.

“There you go.” He cleared his voice and stepped away from you. 

You held your bodice up against your chest, realizing Taehyung had a full-access view of your back and you grew 10x hotter. You gulped at the thought before hastily turning around to thank him, quickly disappearing into the bathroom for a moment of reprieve. 

You shut the door and instantly breathed out a breath you didn’t remember holding, looking at your hot mess of a face in the mirror trying to cool down, reliving the last 10 minutes of what just happened. 

You took a deep breath. 

Maybe Taehyung is different after all. 

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[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Demeter

Have I been using this series to vicariously punish Belphie for the events of Season 1? I cannot confirm nor deny that statement.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter

Lucifer

Didn't think too much of the "human" when they popped out of the portal. Sure they had a straw hat and a huge basket full of produce but it wasn’t like they were… Wait… No… Were they…?

Oh no. Oh nonononono, this is not good…!!

Demeter is notoriously doting and protective of her children (see her freakout and breakdown after Hades abducted of Persephone as proof) and they've pretty much done the EXACT. SAME. THING. here!!

It was a mad scramble by him and Diavolo to contact and appease their godly Mother Bear before she came roaring down to Devildom herself to turn them all into barley. Thankfully, Zeus must have intervened at some point because though she was indeed PISSED, she didn't threaten to barge in… yet.

She made one thing very clear. Bend so much as a single hair on her precious child's head and there would be WAR…

The MC received a 24 hour security detail after that. Just Mammon wasn't going to cut it, he needed NO chances. It was a full rotation of Mammon, him and Beel for the entirety of their stay (Asmo and Levi both threw hissy fits at the prospect of babysitting, Satan couldn’t be trusted not to kill them just to irritate him, and Belphie was out for… obvious reasons).

In some ways, it wasn’t so bad. The MC was a very mild sort of person, rather even tempered. He’d dare say they were pleasant, mostly content to just tend to their gardens and be out in the moonlight…

But the problem was, he just could not convince them to stay OUT of nature. Including the forests, which were full of hellish beasts fully intent on gnawing their flesh from their bones… and their specialty was plants, not animals, sooo…

Their habit of sneaking out to wander the woods got so bad that he very nearly considered pulling a Belphie 2 and locking them in the basement for their own good. But Devil knows what damage their mother would do if she found out…

At least they make for pleasant company… And Diavolo seems to like them quite a bit himself so the mortal gets a pass from him. Now if they’d only consider their own safety for a change…

Mammon

They make him a KILLING.

Like, no seriously. Their produce is insane!! He’s never tasted food so good, especially stuff that’s come fresh from the ground! It only took a few berries for Mammon to throw on a straw hat himself and start harvesting! He’s a farmer now, baby!!

Weeellll not quite. He’s still absolutely only in it for the money, but anything he brings to a farmer’s market goes so fast that he can hardly care about the labor! He’s never made this much Grimm in his life!! And it’s totally legit for a change!

He bought himself another car, paid off half of his debt, and even got Levi back that 2 or 3 grand he leant him centuries ago. Really, Mammon’s living his best life and it’s all thanks to MC!

It’s a good thing his blatant grifting doesn’t hurt his relationship with them at all, in fact they seem to enjoy having his help regardless. They bring him drinks on hot days or invite him on picnics and stuff, it’s… it’s really sweet. They’re very nice to him and he appreciates it…

But… COULD YA JUST STAY PUT ALREADY???

It drives him INSANE that they won’t stay out of dangerous places!! After he started caring about them for more than just a meal ticket it only got even worse!!

He’s not usually one for monitoring someone’s every move (that kind of control freak behavior is more a Lucifer thing) but he eventually had to set up familiars around the House just to keep them from sneaking out at night...

What was so interesting out there anyway?? There wasn’t any kind of plant that he could bring them himself! They didn’t have any need to be out there!! 

They’d keep telling him they’d be fine but it’s not like he’s going to actually buy that. They were too… nice to be dangerous or anything so why would he believe them?

No more running off, MC! Please, he’s beggin’ ya!!

Leviathan 

Wait, gardening? Like, being outdoors and stuff? Ew. No thanks, he’ll pass.

That was more or less his first reaction when they showed up and it never really got much better than that…

He admits that they’re friendly and it’s not like he dislikes them or anything, but their thing so far from his thing that they just don’t have a lot in common… you know?

For starters, they get So. Antsy. when they’re inside for too long! He tried to invite them to a marathon once, but they could hardly keep still and kept looking around like they were searching for a window… He said, “to jump out of.” They insisted just for some fresh air, but he didn’t buy it...

They’re nice enough to listen to his rants, but they’re barely ever inside for him to do so and like HELL is he going to leave his room and stand around out there for that long. Ranting is at least a one to two hour engagement! What if he gets hot out there? And have you SEEN Devildom bees?? Hell no!!

He has, however, asked them on multiple occasions to reproduce flowers he’s seen in different anime, especially ones that have a very unique look and they’ve done some real wonders with that!

He can now claim to be the only person to ever own a Ruby-Jade Vine plant, straight from the pages of TSL when it was used to brew tea for the Lord of Lechery during his brief illness and-is anyone even still listening anymore?

The point is, it’s a flower so rare it was imaginary but now HE has it!... or had it for about a week until his utter incompetence of all things plant killed it…

He begged the MC for another but they were out of the plants they needed to make it and would have to go back to the human world to find more… He’s still mourning his loss… Poor Henry 4.0…

Satan

Well… He’s called this MC “salt of the Earth” and he does truly mean it. Take of that what you will.

He doesn’t get much in the way of intellectual conversation out of this mortal UNLESS he’s talking about plants, farming, or botany… Interesting topics and complex in their own right to be sure, but that’s pretty much their wheelhouse and they like it there.

That being said, the feats that they can perform are genuinely mind-blowing! They are the ONLY person he has ever met who can cultivate the Devildom’s own ultra-rare Phantom Orchid, a plant only blooms when it reaches a perfect state of undeath (i.e. both taken care of and neglected just enough so that it's only barely alive. The balance is so tricky to master that one hasn’t bloomed down there for centuries!)

There’s also something just genuinely relaxing about watching them work or helping them in the gardens… More so than he’d ever expected from such a simple activity.

He admits that he’s taken quite a few strolls through the flower-filled courtyard of the Demon Lord’s Castle just to admire its beauty... But anything that they can grow just blows all of that out of the water!

They even taught him several magic botanical techniques so now he can grow some pretty mad plants himself. Lucifer never expected to find that giant Venus Flytrap in his closet, but one was there regardless. 😏

Just… out of curiosity one day, he asked the MC if they could make him a new kind of catnip. Not for any nefarious reason! You know… just for research purposes…

The nip they made was so effective that the House grounds were FILLED with nipped-up cats for a whole month! He was in Heaven!! (and Lucifer practically wiped those plants from existence so he couldn’t get any more… asshole...)

That must have inspired them because they apparently made a demons-only version that they told him about WELL after the fact. Had he known, he probably would have burned the stuff on principle... Do you know how dangerous demon-nip could be to them? Experiment responsibly, MC!

Asmodeus 

Ehhhh, gardening SOUNDS like one of those things that should be super Devilgram-able, but then you realize how sweaty and dirty you get in the process and it’s a huge turn off… Sorry MC.

When they first came down to the Devildom, he thought two things: 1) Such a sweet little flower child, as adorable as they were, would never survive; and 2) even if they could, he would never ever see eye-to-eye with them on the “wonders” of getting all up in the dirt.

Well, he was right about 2, but certainly not 1. Personally, he thinks his brothers worry about them too much, they ARE still a demigod.

At one point he saw a pack of hellhounds almost trample one of their vegetable gardens and they lost it. Word to the wise, never try to take on a child of Demeter in their own garden. Those hounds were wrapped up in rose vines before they could even yelp...

Yeah, the MC would be fine.

That being said, while everybody else clamors over their produce, he thinks that their flowers are really where it’s at!

Taking just five minutes in one of their gardens is something else... He’s never seen blossoms as healthy and immaculate in all the Devildom before! Their beauty could (almost) rivals his own! What they do isn’t just a hobby, it’s an art.

He’s taken multiple pictures with their blossoms and they go viral every time. It’s so rare to actually see gorgeous, petal-filled flowers in the Devildom, most of the native plants are of the man-eating variety.

His only complaint about this MC is that they seem to feel much more at home in work clothes and dirt than they do in any sort of party-look he tries to give them… Cute as they are, they can afford to gussy up sometimes can’t they? Mud and grass stains don’t make for a good look, sorry.

Beelzebub 

Beel gardens and the MC gardens as well. Add on that they seem to be able to grow all manner of fruits and veggies and he likes this one. A lot.

They had just finished apple-picking when the portal nabbed them so they had a massive basket of apples at the time. Naturally, Beel more or less stole the thing on sight, but the apples inside were so juicy and good that he almost shook them down for more on the spot!

Imagine his surprise when they, half pleadingly, explained to him that if he got them some seeds they could just grow more… and it wouldn’t even take that long.

To be clear, the formula he saw was this: Get seeds > bring seeds to mortal > mortal grows seeds > mortal makes endless supply of food….

Congratulations MC, you’ve now earned the sixthborn’s eternal loyalty after a grand total of… two minutes. He didn’t even know their name, but he was willing to take a bullet for them (provided he got more of those apples).

The next several months were spent with Beel attached to them to the hip in some way, but honestly? It was just so wholesome anyway…

If he’s helping in the garden, he never complains. He does most of the heavy lifting and actually likes being out there with them (unlike others...)

Many afternoons were spent sitting under fruit trees and talking. Sometimes, they go to the trouble of preparing a picnic or something but it would always inevitably end with Beel plucking the whole tree clean of whatever ripe (or unripe) fruit he can get his hands on with a smile. 

The MC never minded though. That’s just another excuse to grow more, right?

His only problem was when the MC would sneak out to the forest… especially when they get too antsy and just go alone. 

He HATES it when they do that! How is he supposed to keep them safe if they just wander off?? He knows that they have a special connection to nature and all, but it isn’t safe…

He’s flown in and scooped them back up to the House on numerous occasions and his “talking tos” get sterner after every rescue... Please stay put, MC! He’d have so many reasons to be sad if you were eaten… 😔

Belphegor 

Okay, he was looking for a capable, if not gullible, human. Not a shoeless flower hippy!

He honestly wasn't expecting much out of this one... Damn their little heart because they did genuinely believed his lies, it’s just that they weren't… well… They were really good at gardening.

… And it grew kind of hard to keep hating them whenever they'd show up just to give him fresh berries or a bouquet to see him smile… He may claim that his heart is made of nightmares and orphan tears, but who doesn’t enjoy being given a batch of flowers? 

Damn their sweetness too… Right to here.

When it came time to kill them he had a heavier heart than he thought he would, but kind of saw it like putting down the sacrificial lamb. Gotta be done to reach better goals... Stiff upper lip and all that.

Unfortunately for him, they had taken to carrying packets of demon-nip with them as a self-defense measure…

He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when they shouted “Get nipped!” at him mid-attack, but it wasn’t a face full of some smelly herb! Like, really smelly…! Actually, that smelt kind of good… Hold on.

Turns out murderous rage really doesn’t last long after you get what is effectively ultra-strong catnip thrown in your face. They ended up having to go and tell Lucifer what happened themselves because Belphie was way too blissed out on the floor to do anything... They were legitimately worried they might have fried his brain...

He’s told the effects of the demon-nip lasted three days. He doesn’t know, because he hardly remembers any of it... They described him as like he was high on “weed” and “ecstasy” at the same time but he doesn’t know what either of those are either so it wasn’t helpful…

Truthfully, they were so nice to him while he was recovering that he couldn’t even be mad afterwards so all's well that ends well? Either way, he’s sleeping under their orchard trees from now on. It’s peaceful out there...

They burnt all that nip though. It’s some strong stuff...

[plus-size-reader]

Talent

Eddie Brock x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1897 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Eddie being assigned a co host after his first outburst on national television in hopes that it won't happen again, but it doesn’t exactly go as planned

—————————————————————————————————

If there was ever a professional rival to Eddie Brock, it was you.

Personally, he didn’t see it.

You were too buttoned up, like you were reading from a set of cue cards whenever you found yourself in front of a camera, and he would never do that. That sort of reporting was inauthentic and if he ever had to act that way, he’d surely quit.

It just wasn’t who he was.

Really, the comparison between you two was sort of insulting for him.

If nothing else, it was a blow to his ego but none of that mattered after what happened with the Daily Globe.

No one would let him work solo again, which was how you’d ended up here in the first place. Both his colleagues and the general audience seemed to think that the two of you would make a perfect pair.

For some reason, the man in question couldn’t keep his mouth shut and needed a babysitter out in the field so that he didn’t make a fool out of everyone at The Eddie Brock Report.

That was something you couldn’t and wouldn’t allow.

In all honesty, the only thing you and Eddie seemed to have in common was the fact that you didn’t quite care for the other, but you didn’t get much of a choice in the matter. Jack made it perfectly clear that Eddie Brock was your meal ticket, and you couldn’t rightfully toss that away.

You loved your job, and you were good at it, so if you had to take care of the man child that was Eddie Brock for a while, you would do that. All you had to do was keep a tight lip and get this whole thing over with.

Once the interview with the Life Foundation was over, and you got paid, you could request a transfer.

It wasn’t like working with him for a few months was going to kill you. Though, he was definitely going to challenge that notion.

This morning, for example, he was already more than an hour late for your meeting.

“Nice of you to join us, Mr.Brock” you sighed, turning around to find Eddie standing in the doorway, finally. He was meant to be here at eight am sharp, just like the rest of you, but evidently, he was too good for that.

Not that you had been expecting much more than that from him.

After all, if he was all that good at his job and showing up when he was supposed to, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. 

Whether Eddie realized it or not, he had developed quite a reputation in all the time he’d been on the air.

At this point, you weren’t even sure if anything he did was going to surprise you. You knew exactly what you were dealing with when you signed up for this.

What he was doing was incredibly unprofessional.

Not only did it make your life more difficult for the time being, but more than anything, he was just getting on your last nerve.

It was like he didn’t even realize that his job depended on how well this interview went. The Life Foundation was a monster of a company, and Carlton Drake had incredible influence over what happened in this city.

If this interview went poorly, it would reflect negatively on both of your careers.

You couldn’t let him ruin this for you.

Still, even from where he was standing in the doorway, terribly late and under-prepared, Eddie couldn’t have cared less about the obvious weight of this assignment.

“How are you already mad at me, I just got here?” he hummed, not even bothering to look at you as he sat down on the other side of the table, a teasing smile on his face. 

You two had only ever been around each other a few times, and never under such terms.

You just didn’t know what to expect.

In your entire career, you had worked with plenty of other people but you had never encountered anyone like Eddie Brock. He was as stubborn as an ass and arrogant even when there was no reason to be.

It just didn’t seem like this was going to work.

If anything, you and Eddie brought the worst out in each other, and because of that, you were sure that this whole thing wasn't going to work. 

Having the two of you work together didn’t make any sense, and you couldn’t imagine anyone would think it would work out.

All in all, working with Eddie was a terrible idea.

“You were supposed to be here two hours ago” you reminded, doing your best to keep a level head. It was becoming clear that if anything was going to get done here, you were going to have to be the one to take control of this.

One of you had to be an adult about this.

If you knew anything about Eddie, he was likely just doing this whole thing to get under your skin, but this wasn’t about that. He had a job to do, and you weren’t going to let him get out of it.

After all, he was the reason you were in this position in the first past, and he wasn’t going to bring you down because of his big mouth.

You had a lot riding on this too.

“Honey, I’m the talent. Last time I checked” he laughed, looking between the rest of the people in the room as if to verify, not that anyone wanted to get into it between the two of you. 

Most of them had worked with you before, and had a lot of respect for you, but that didn’t mean they wanted to go against Eddie either.

He had a reputation as a bit of a drama queen and wouldn’t hesitate to throw a bit of a tantrum regarding whatever happened here.

“Oh, you’re right, I’m so sorry. How could I be so dense? I actually expected the talent to show up” you grumbled back, folding your arms across your chest. You were frustrated, of course, but there was no way he was being serious.

First of all, Eddie wasn’t the talent.

Neither of you were the talent, that was the whole point. He did his job like he was playing a game, or just messing around, like the job itself didn’t matter. In fact, you didn't even think he understood how serious this was.

Clearly, this was all a joke for him.

“Woah, we’re a little snippy today, aren’t we?” he jabbed, still keeping that casual air about him as he antagonized you. There was this snide attitude about him, something that showed you just how much he was enjoying this.

He thought it was funny.

“I’m not, actually. I just give a damn about my job, something that I’m sure you couldn’t understand” you huffed, deciding that you needed to just take care of this yourself. 

Obviously, you were going to have to figure this out if you wanted to get out of this without completely throwing away your entire career.

Having this conversation with him wasn’t worth anything, and it certainly wouldn’t make the Life foundation interview go any more smoothly.

Without missing a beat, you started gathering your things and stuffing them into your bag. 

You had been sitting here for far longer than anyone ever would have for an appointment and seeing how Brock was acting now, you realized just how much of a waste that was.

This really was a mistake.

However, once Eddie realized that you were planning on leaving, the arrogance that you had seen before started to fade away. Whether he liked it or not, he knew that he needed you and if you didn’t help him on this, he wouldn’t have a job.

The only way he got to do the Life foundation interview was if he did it with you by his side, and he needed it.

After everything he’d messed up as of late, he needed someone to take a chance on him so that he could prove himself to everyone who didn’t think he could do it.

“Hey, hold on!” he called, a light jog closing the space between the two of you, where you were now walking away from the meeting room. You had no desire to talk to him, of course, not after how he was acting, but you did stop.

You didn’t move to look at him or ask what it was that he wanted, but you stopped moving so that he could get out whatever it was he was so determined to say.

“I’m sorry if I struck a nerve, I just don’t know how this whole thing is supposed to work out. You know as well as I do that the Life Foundation is a fraud” he sighed, his words little more than a whisper through his teeth.

The truth was right there.

You were a journalist and while he may not have had a ton of respect for you in general, he knew that you could see it. Anyone who had been doing this as long as you had couldn’t possibly be blind to what was going on.

Drake was killing people, and the fact that you were still willing to go through with this interview as if he wasn’t just proved everything that Eddie believed about you to be true. 

You were just another spineless icon without any morals or ideas of your own.

It wasn’t real journalism if you hide the truth.

“Even if that was true, you don’t have any proof. How are we supposed to prove it?” you asked, unsure what he was getting at. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was something wrong with Carlton Drake and the mammoth foundation he’d created.

What he was suggesting was much more than just the usual drama that came along with hiring Eddie Brock but when you looked him in the eye, you noticed that the usual mischief in his eyes was nowhere to be seen.

He was serious.

Wherever this was coming from, Eddie seemed to believe what he was saying.

“I don’t know, but I know that something is wrong and I think we need to figure out what it is” he tried, finally going for broke as he stood in front of you, acting like a crazy person.

By all accounts, you should have turned around and walked away. He was paranoid and completely determined that he was right, in a way that only someone who’d lost their mind would be. However, you couldn't help but believe him

As much as you disliked Eddie on principle, you had a lot of practice figuring out if someone was lying and you knew that whether he was right or not, he believed what he was saying and was telling the truth.

Now, all that was left to do was figure out if there was any truth to his wild claims.

“Give me a few days to ask around. We’ll meet up at the start of next week to talk, but don’t make me wait again” you decided, confident that if he was serious about this, he would show up at the right time.

After all, if he was right, you’d be risking your own career on this.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 6)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: Underage drinking, sexual harassment (not from any of the main characters) 

Word Count: 7,295

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

Dr. Gonzalez’s assessment of your ankle turned out to be correct; by the end of the week, you were feeling much better. You had to give some of the credit to Jimin, who’d been like a hawk in his watchfulness all week. The second you landed a difficult jump, Jimin would pop up beside you like the worst kind of clickbait, scolding you for not marking your movements.

At first, it drove you crazy – it was like having your parents out on the dance floor. Each time you pliéd, Jimin would clench his jaw hard enough to crack walnuts. It got to the point though, where you began to find it amusing, pretending to do something full-out just to mess with him.

Jimin didn’t find this as amusing as you did.

The Monday following your injury, you returned to Dr. Gonzalez’s office for a check-up. After examining your ankle and a few routine tests, she nodded in satisfaction and declared you fit to dance. A massive weight lifted from your chest, you practically bounded upstairs and into ballet.

Mr. Vlad’s ballet class wasn’t the type of place people usually bounded to, so you drew several stares when you entered the room. Dropping your bag beside Noelle, you stood at the barre and began to shed your warm-ups.

“It feels so good to be back,” you groaned, lifting your leg.

Noelle grinned, mirroring your movement. “It’s good to have you back,” she agreed. “I felt like a worried mom all week, constantly watching out for your ankle. Now, I can finally be selfish again.”

You laughed. “Well, thank god for that.”

“Miss Y/L/N!” Smiling, Mr. Vlad came to a stop alongside you. “Good as new, I take it?” he said, glancing down.

“Yep,” you said, rolling your ankle in a circle to show. “Dr. Gonzalez cleared me to dance earlier this morning.”

“Good, good.” He nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s always a shame to see talented dancers injured. Make sure you don’t jump back in too quickly, though. Take it easy.”

“Will do,” you said, somewhat dazed as he turned to walk away.

Noelle leaned forward. “Dude,” she whispered, staring at his back. “Mr. Vlad just called you a talented dancer. Mr. Vlad. Vlad Copson.”

“I know,” you whispered, trying to stifle a laugh. “Wow.”

It was a wow moment indeed, since before now you hadn’t been sure whether Mr. Vlad even liked you. He’d given you and Jimin a compliment a few weeks prior, but everything else you received from him was criticism. Despite knowing this to be his reputation as a teacher, you honestly had no idea where you stood with him at all.

Hearing him call you talented was enough for you to hope it would be a good day. Barre passed by quickly and, true to your word, you tried not to overdo things. Despite your initial positivity, it soon became apparent you’d fallen behind. By the time you finished barre and walked to the center, your earlier enthusiasm had somewhat waned.

Although you’d improved since the start of the year, taking a week off had put a damper on your progress. Even just seven days of marking was enough for you to feel lost while moving through the combinations. Luckily, Jimin was there to help you remember the steps.

‘Luckily, Jimin’ was never a phrase you thought you’d say and yet, here you were. Aligned by the same goal, Jimin had proven himself to be a useful partner. Nearly a month into your truce, things were going well between you. Steps came easier once you were certain he wouldn’t drop you on purpose.

Obviously, you still had work to do between you, but it was easier without constantly wondering what Jimin was thinking. Trust was tricky enough without years of rancor between you, but somehow you and Jimin were making this work.

Miss Britt had explained during your first week that pairings at Russet were random on purpose. It was one of the most valuable lessons your first year could teach you, she’d said – learning to trust someone you didn’t choose for yourself.

Oftentimes, your company or choreographer would pick your partner. Even if you didn’t like them as a person, you needed to learn to trust them as a dancer, which was something you had no experience in before. By this point though, you found you no longer harbored dislike for Jimin as a person or as a dancer.

Jimin helped you during the week, walking you through tricky steps you’d missed the week prior. He even stayed late one night to practice a lift without you even needing to ask. By the time Friday rolled around, you felt almost completely caught up in your classes.

Miss Britt’s class was quickly becoming a favorite. She was more modern than some of the other teachers, choreographing to contemporary music instead of the traditional classical. This alone was enough to make you ecstatic, but she also encouraged improvisation.

You supposed this was why Miss Britt had suggested you practice the fundamentals. It was impossible to learn the fun, partner lifts if you couldn’t even complete a pirouette.

Today’s combination was one of the hard ones – Miss Britt tended to do that on Fridays, adding more complicated moves as a way to end the week. This turned out to be both blessing and curse, since it was fun to branch out, but it came at a cost.

“And – from the top!” Miss Britt called from the front. “Sissonne, sissonne! Cabriole, and chassé – tour jeté! Plié! And rise – hold! Plié, battement and grand fouetté!”

Seokjin stood at her side, demonstrating the moves with grace and poise. Every now and again, Miss Britt would join in to show particularly tricky footwork.

By the time you executed the combination full out, you and Jimin were sweating, fingers slipping while you grabbed at each other’s hands. Grand fouettés – sometimes called Italian fouettés – were difficult enough without adding pointe shoes and a partner. In grand fouettés, the woman did a grand battement effacé (facing forward), swept her leg through first position while turning, only to end up facing the same way with her leg in attitude derriére (behind her, and bent). All of this, of course, occurred within two counts of eight.

Jimin helped you balance, although he needed to move fast to avoid getting kicked in the head by your leg. The combination moved across the floor, starting in one corner of the room and ending up in another. By the time you’d practiced the moves a few times, both of you were dripping sweat on the floor.

“Shit.” Gasping for air, Jimin lowered both hands to his knees. “Miss Britt isn’t taking things easy on us, huh?”

Silently, you shook your head no, as you fought to catch your breath.

“Alright!” Miss Britt clapped her hands together. “Line up in the corner and we’ll go two couples at a time. Sabrina, Paulo, Alex and Jasmine – you’re first.”

Sabrina and Paulo were practicing close by, dutifully finishing the steps of the combination. While you watched, you saw Sabrina wobble and Paulo’s hand slip from hers. Sabrina managed to keep her balance, but her timing was thrown, and she missed the last fouetté.

“Sabrina!” Miss Britt called out sharply. “Be sure to stay on the beat!”

Stricken, Sabrina’s head turned as she finished. Landing in fifth, she managed a nod before she turned to cross the room. Paulo followed suit, swallowing at the look of annoyance she shot him.

Once they were in the corner and ready to go, Miss Britt motioned the accompanist to play as she crossed her arms.

As the music began, the first group moved forward. This time, Sabrina got her timing right for the fouetté turns, but still didn’t seem happy. Finishing the combination, Sabrina struck her ending pose – only to exhale, expression dropping as soon as she stalked from the floor.

Miss Britt didn’t seem to notice, her attention already moved on to watch the next group. Nudging Jimin with your elbow, you indicated you both should move up in line. Noelle and Eamon were in the second group across the floor, so you two would be next, along with Irene and Brian.

Waiting to start, Jimin exhaled and rolled his neck. Glancing sideways, you were surprised to find you also felt nervous. This was a difficult combination, so you couldn’t expect to do things perfectly, but the fact that Sabrina had failed didn’t bode well for you at all.

“Next group!” Miss Britt called.

Breathing deeply, you placed your hand in Jimin’s and fell into tombé. Your first steps were in unison, feet skimming the floor while you traveled forward. Jimin’s hands gripped your waist, lifting you easily to set you back on the ground. Each step flowed to the next, barely allowing time to think as your limbs found each other.

Even the complicated footwork section was in tandem, Jimin’s plié matching yours when he lifted you overhead. The ending segment – a series of partnered jetés, culminating in a grand jeté – happened easily, making you feel as though you were floating on air. When you landed and struck your ending pose, your heart hammered against your ribcage.

“Very good, Y/N and Jimin!” Miss Britt smiled before she moved on.

Schooling your expression to stay calm, you felt almost giddy as you ran from center. Jimin was close behind, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Did you hear that?” you gasped, spinning to face him.

“A very good from Miss Britt.” Jimin wriggled both brows. “Might as well move us to the top of the class now.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you warned, though you laughed when he high-fived you.

Walking off to the side, you joined the rest of your classmates who were waiting in line. As you waited to reverse the combination on the left, you practiced the steps in your mind.

Miss Britt continued to yell corrections and when your turn finally came, you took a deep breath to relax. Emptying your mind, you forced yourself to focus only on the movement. For the first time since your arrival at Russet, the steps felt almost natural.

Partnering had been difficult for you to learn after so many years of solo competition. Unlearning your independence as a dancer was hard, but you finally felt as though you were making progress. When you and Jimin finished on the left side, you realized with some amazement Miss Britt hadn’t yelled out any suggestions.

As soon as everyone had gone, Miss Britt motioned for the pianist to stop and walked to the center.

“Good job, everyone,” she called. “Just a few notes today. Irene, be sure and keep your weight centered in attitude. Don’t rely on your partner to keep you steady. Louis, make sure you really push Ari across the floor. Her momentum should come from you, not just her legs. And Sabrina,” Miss Britt said as she turned.

Sabrina straightened, clearly expecting a big heaping of praise. Miss Britt always had something nice to say for her star pupil. It wasn’t bitterness which made you say this – Sabrina was just that good at ballet. As much as you disliked her as a person, you couldn’t deny Sabrina’s prowess as a dancer.

Miss Britt frowned. “Don’t step so far forward next time. Paulo had to rush to catch up, which is why your timing was off. And Y/N,” she said, moving on.

Sabrina froze, staring wide-eyed at Miss Britt’s back. The shock in her expression was clear and if Miss Britt hadn’t moved on to you, you would’ve relished for longer in Sabrina’s confusion.

“Excellent work.” Miss Britt smiled. “That was a beautiful combination. Have you been practicing with Jimin as I suggested, Y/N?”

Instantly, heat rose to your face.

“I, uh,” you stammered, searching for words. “I’ve been working with Sana Minatozaki, actually. She graduated last year from Russet?”

“Ah, Sana!” Miss Britt’s face lit up. “Did Seokjin introduce you?”

Seokjin nodded, giving you a thumbs up as soon as Miss Britt turned.

“Well, it was wonderful,” Miss Britt continued. “Much improved, both of you – keep it up. Jasmine,” she said, moving on. “You’re lowering your chin right before you turn.”

In the corner of your eyes, you saw Jimin glance in your direction, but chose instead to stare at the clock. Pretending as though the time needed your undivided attention, you managed to avoid him for the rest of class.

Across the floor leaps were always the last combination of class – they were considered the ‘fun’ part of ballet, so of course teachers chose to save them for the end. As you turned and jetéd across the floor, your stomach churned imagining what to say to Jimin.

Maybe you could pretend Miss Britt had been confused. You could say she mistook you for another student, or that you’d never considered asking Jimin for help – even as you thought this, you released a small sigh. You should just tell him the truth and get it over with. If Jimin had proven one thing to you over the past couple of weeks, it was that he wasn’t the person you’d always made him out to be.

Still, it would be humiliating for Jimin to know how close you’d been to being kicked out. Miss Britt had told you to seek help barely a week into classes and now, Jimin would know that.

A part of you hated this since that same part of you thought often about that one practice session. The night Jimin had stopped and said he loved watching you dance.

You still weren’t sure what to make of that night, but you couldn’t deny it was something you often returned to.

As soon as Miss Britt ended class, you made a beeline for your things and plopped down on the floor. Undoing your pointe shoes as fast as you could, you tossed these in your bag and pulled on some sweats. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you garbled an excuse to Noelle about needing to go and frankly ran towards the hall.

Glancing over your shoulder, you checked to make sure the coast was clear – only to crash into Jimin as soon as you left the room.

“Whoa!” Jimin caught you by the arms. “Careful, Y/N. You’ll sprain your other ankle.”

“I didn’t sprain my ankle,” you huffed.

Arching a brow, Jimin continued to hold your arms. His dance bag was slung over a shoulder, sweatpants pulled on over his ballet clothes. Dimly, you realized he hadn’t had to take off any pointe shoes. Stupid male dancers and their stupid male benefits.

Behind Jimin, you saw Noelle exit the classroom. Tossing a beseeching glance in her direction, Noelle saw you and paused – only to wink and continue walking away. Aghast, you stared in shock at her back. 

Traitor, you decided. She’d pay for that later.

“Can we talk over there?” Jimin nodded down the hall.

“I – sure,” you said, unable to think of an excuse. Why couldn’t you think of an excuse?

Releasing your arms, Jimin turned to leave and you followed. Once you were far enough away from class to not be overheard, he turned around. Coming to a stop, you fiddled with the strap of your bag pulled across your chest.

Oddly enough, Jimin seemed as nervous as you were. “What… was that?” he asked, glancing towards the ballet room.

“What was what?”

Jimin gave you a look. “That comment from Miss Britt. Were you going to ask me for help, or something?”

Wincing, you glanced away. Hearing Jimin speak brought back all the resentment you felt when Miss Britt first pulled you aside. You thought you’d grown since then – and maybe you had – but remembering that day still made your stomach sink. If there was one thing you hated, it was admitting you weren’t perfect.

“I – well, no,” you said, looking up.

Jimin’s expression remained unsure and after a moment, you sighed.

“Alright, yeah,” you said. “Kind off. Miss Britt… suggested I ask you for help at the start of the year.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s face was unreadable.

Someone laughed far off down the hall and another door banged open, a different ballet class letting out. Jimin glanced away, hesitating a moment before his gaze returned to yours.

“Want to get going?” Jimin offered. “The next class is starting, so Danley is going to get crowded.”

“Sure,” you said, following as Jimin turned around.

You were silent the entire trip down the hall and even outside, as you began to walk down the sidewalk. Jimin was correct; Danley Hall was crowded at this time of day. After Miss Britt’s classes on Fridays, you didn’t have any set schedule unless you chose to take an afternoon master class.

Jimin walked next to you on the sidewalk, brow furrowed and seemingly lost in thought. About a block away from Danley, he glanced in your direction.

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Jimin said.

Rolling your eyes, you hitched your bag higher. “Oh, come on,” you sighed, shooting him a look. “It wasn’t like we were on the best of terms. You wouldn’t have said yes.”

“Maybe I would’ve.”

“Be serious.”

“Maybe I would’ve!” he insisted, cracking a smile. “Look – you’re not the only one who needs extra practice. What did Miss Britt say you needed to work on?”

Falling silent, you stared straight ahead and considered what to reveal. The air around you was crisp, the sky blue overhead and the leaves orange against it – in other words, it was a perfect fall day. You hated to ruin something so wonderful with talk of improvement.

At long last, you sighed.

“Technique,” you admitted. “You know that my background isn’t as a ballerina. Miss Britt thought it would be a good idea for me to take lessons from someone strong in ballet.”

“Hm.” Jimin considered. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey!”

He looked your way in surprise. “What? You’re the one who said it was something you needed to work on!”

“I know,” you grumbled. “It just sucks hearing you say it.”

“What’s wrong with hearing me say it?”

“You know,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “You’re you. Park Jimin. Hearing you say it just reminds me of all the ways we’re different. All the ways you’re… better than I am.”

Jimin didn’t react in the way you expected. You thought maybe he’d deny it, or maybe even gloat, but instead he just frowned.

“Different doesn’t mean worse,” Jimin said slowly. “It just means… different. You need help with ballet technique? Well, I need help with performance.”

“You – what?” you said, caught off guard.

Jimin gave you a rueful smile. “I kind of wish you’d said something sooner. I got feedback last month that I needed to work on emoting. Apparently, my technique is good, but I forget what to do with my face in difficult combinations.”

“Really?” you blinked, somewhat amazed. “I’ve always thought you were good at that.”

“Well, I’ve always thought you had great technique.”

“Was that... an actual compliment, Park?”

“Don’t act so surprised.” Jimin snorted. “Most people think I’m a really nice guy.”

“Yeah, well. Most people haven’t had you tell them to break a leg and mean it.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Jimin’s lip twitched. “Most of the time, anyways.”

“Aha!” you said, leveling a finger in his direction. “So, you admit it. You meant it some of the time.”

Jimin shrugged. “What can I say? I wanted to win. Sometimes it felt like… I don’t know, sometimes it felt like you were the only thing pushing me.” He paused, then continued, “There were some days things were so bad, I just wanted to quit. I wanted to give up, but then I’d think about you. I’d think about our bet, our next competition and… I’d keep going,” he said, finishing quietly.

You remained silent for a moment, allowing this to sink in.

Deep down, you understood what Jimin meant. Dance was difficult; that much was obvious from your first semester at Russet. It was hard to find the drive to keep going. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t sometimes felt the same way. There had been weekends in high school you just wanted to be a normal student and hang out at the mall – but then you’d remember Jimin’s maddening smirk when he won and force yourself to work harder.

“I guess fear is a great motivator,” you said softly.

Jimin hesitated, then nodded. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like you were the only reason I danced. It’s just… on some days, you were that push.”

Again, you knew what he meant. The mental, physical and emotional exhaustion of dance could eat at a person until there was nothing left. An iron-clad will only got you so far – on some days, you just needed something more, something external. That push.

“I get it,” you said, glancing his way. “I felt that way sometimes about you, too.”

Jimin straightened. “Really?”

“Yeah.” After a moment, you shook your head. “But seriously – would you be interested?”

“Interested in what?”

“In helping me practice,” you said before you could talk yourself out of it.

The words hung in the air between you, Jimin blinking while he considered your proposition. 

Immediately, you wondered if you’d made a mistake. Sabrina’s easy dismissal came to mind, but you tried not to jump to any negative conclusions. For all the difficulties you’d had in your past, Jimin hadn’t done anything detrimental to you in nearly a month. 

At some point, you needed to learn to move on.

“Does that mean you’ll help me, too?” Jimin glanced hopefully sideways. “I wasn’t kidding about the feedback I got. I’ve been trying to find someone to teach me for weeks.”

“Deal,” you said, offering him a smile.

Jimin nodded, digging around in his pocket for his cell phone. “What’s your number?” he said, glancing up. “I can check the practice room schedule and let you know what’s available.”

Rattling off your information, you waited for Jimin to send you a text. When he did, you pulled out your phone and saved his information.

“Cool.” Jimin shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I guess I’ll see you around, then. What’re you doing tonight?”

Normally on Fridays, you’d take one of the available master classes, but part of your new deal with Finn had been to see each other at least once a week. Tonight, you were heading to a club with Finn and his friends despite having ballet tomorrow. This had been a compromise on your end, which was something you realized you hadn’t done much of.

“I’m going out,” you said with a shrug. “What about you?”

“Before Mr. Vlad’s ballet class?” Jimin raised a brow. “Brave of you, Y/N. I’m probably just going to read, go to bed early. Real wild stuff.”

Adjusting your bag, you laughed and turned away. “Brave or stupid?” you called as you climbed the steps. “Don’t knock yourself, though. Your night sounds pretty great to me. Self-care and all that.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jimin laughed. “Have fun at your thing. See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

When you reached the top of the stairs, you turned and saw him wave goodbye. Returning the gesture, you pulled your key from your pocket and let yourself in. As soon as the door swung shut, leaving you in darkness, you realized Jimin was saved in your phone.

After a moment of pause, you continued your walk down the hall. If you’d told yourself one year ago that this would happen, you would’ve assumed it to be a prank or a joke. 

It only went to show how easily people changed.

Except for people in clubs, it seemed.

Seated in a back booth of Excelsior nightclub, you drummed a hand on your knee and gazed around the warehouse. A strobe-lit dance floor lay directly before you, a DJ booth situated on a table several feet above the dancers.

Sweaty, half-naked bodies writhed to the beat of deafening music. Watching this from afar, you couldn’t help but wince. It wasn’t that you hated dancing – obviously, not. It was just this form of dancing which always confused you. There was no intimacy to it, no emotion, and no connection to gain from grinding your ass on someone’s crotch.

Most men didn’t bother learning to dance, anyways. Most were content just to sway side to side, watching their woman do all the work. Finn was amongst this crowd, but you couldn’t really blame him for that – the man truly had no rhythm. This led to you oftentimes being bored on the dance floor; there was only so much you could grind with a stationary being.

Even the people who went to these clubs were annoying. Eager, college freshman waiting to try out their new fake IDs. Tipsy sorority girls at the bar, sipping on cranberry vodkas and scanning the room for a partner. Around the edges of the dance floor lurked creepy men, attempting to grab on before their faces were seen.

You hated all of it, but you especially hated it sober. Had you been drunk, maybe you would’ve found the noise and crowd to be tolerable. As it was though, you were completely sober and found everything around you to be incessantly annoying.

Finn and his friends had pre-gamed before your arrival at his dorm. By the time you reached them, Finn was already three beers deep, red-faced and tipsy when he threw open the door.

“Y/N!” he had cheered, pulling you in for a hug.

You’d already forgotten several of his friends’ names by now, although this wasn’t entirely due to your faulty memory. Half kept calling one another by nicknames, making it difficult for you to keep up with their discourse.

Compared to the other girls in the party, you found yourself to be severely underdressed. They all were wearing tight body-con dresses and stilettoed heels. You, on the other hand, had thrown a cardigan over your tank top before you left in case it was cold.

The look on the other girls’ faces when you entered continued to burn uncomfortably in your mind. They’d looked at each other over the rims of their drinks, clearly unimpressed. Their meaning had been clear enough. This was Finn’s girlfriend?

Usually, you didn’t care what other people thought. As Jimin had pointed out, you weren’t the type who acted insecure. In that moment though, surrounded by Finn’s inner circle and feeling entirely out of place, you’d had a brief lapse of inadequacy.

Not being able to drink had solidified this wedge between you. Friendships were often forged in the throes of drunken adversity – your sobriety placed you firmly on the outside.

To his credit, Finn did his best to include you. He’d stayed by your side the entire evening, pulling you into games and introducing you to everyone in the room as his girlfriend. It was physically impossible for him to be everywhere at once though, so there were some unavoidable moments when you were left alone.

The pregame had started nearly four hours previous – sometime around midnight, you’d traveled downtown to the club and now the time was close to 1:00 AM. You kept glancing at your watch, wondering with increasing anxiety when you would leave. The group showed no signs of slowing down and your ballet class started at 8:00 AM the next morning.

You probably should’ve discussed this with Finn earlier, but he’d just been so happy to know you were coming. You hadn’t wanted to throw a wrench in this excitement by demanding he make a schedule.

Toying with the rim of your water, you glanced over at Finn and realized he didn’t seem bored. Ben was seated on his other side, a guy named Rico across the table and two of the blondes were sandwiched on either side.

The rest of Finn’s group were already on the dance floor, having found suitable partners soon after arrival. Two of his friends were currently sucking face by the DJ booth, and you’d seen another two earlier try and sneak towards the bathrooms.

Rico snorted, which prompted laughter from the rest of them. You didn’t see what had been so funny about Ben’s joke – it had seemed kind of demeaning towards women – but the two blondes at the table didn’t seem to mind. You tried not to think less of them for that, lips tightening as you looked away.

Given how stifling the club was, you’d removed your cardigan soon after arrival and tied it around your waist. The air felt sticky on your skin, heavy with the musk of so many people. Finn had smiled when you did this, slipping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. It’d been a sweet gesture at the time, but now the warehouse was boiling and you felt dangerously close to overheating.

As the music switched to a new song, one of the girls across the table gasped and jumped to her feet.

“This is my song,” she said, clapping both hands. “Come on, guys – let’s dance!”

Grabbing her friend and Rico, she pulled them onto the dance floor. Ben downed his drink and joined them, so Finn moved to stand.

“You in?” he said with a grin.

Hesitant, you glanced around. “Can we sit for a while?” you yelled, fighting to be heard over the music. “I’m kind of tired after today.”

“You sure?” Finn called back, also fighting to be heard. He frowned. “Come on, Y/N. Just one dance!”

The rest of the group proceeded to enter the dance floor, hands up while they sandwiched themselves between other people. The sight looked frankly nauseating, but you caught the look of open desire on Finn’s expression.

Knowing he wanted to join them, you pushed aside a sigh and stood. “Okay,” you said, slipping your hand into his. “One dance.”

Finn instantly brightened, tugging you along towards his friends. Shoving your way through the crowd, you tried your best not to breathe through your nose. Slightly claustrophobic at the best of times, clubs had the ability to become your worst nightmare. Especially when everyone was drunk except for you; it made you feel even less in control.

Turning around, Finn lifted your arms and placed them on his shoulders. “See?” he said, sliding closer. “This is fun, right?”

Tilting your head upwards, you nodded and concentrated solely on him. Usually, you found Finn’s touch soothing, but tonight his grip felt too hot and people kept bumping into you from behind. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to leave. It had been such a long day of dance and you needed to wake up early tomorrow.

Pressing yourself closer, you tried to lose yourself in Finn’s normally clean scent. Tonight though, he smelled like sweat and alcohol, and so you released a sigh. 

Hearing this, you felt Finn’s arms tense around you. Lowering his lips, he brushed them to your ear. “You’re not having fun, are you?”

Stricken, you looked up. “No – no! I am.”

Finn gave you a look.

“Alright, fine,” you admitted. “I’m just… tired, Finn. I didn’t know we’d be out so late.”

Rather than apologize or offer an explanation, Finn tensed a bit more. You knew from his face he was drunk; you’d known this objectively, given all the beer he consumed. When Finn drank though, he tended to resort to stubbornness. Seeing his expression harden, your heart slowly sank.

“You didn’t think we’d be out late at a club?” he asked you, brows raised.

“I thought we’d pregame, head to the club and then leave,” you said, somewhat defensive. “How long can you dance with the same, sweaty bodies?”

Finn’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Don’t you mean – how long can you dance with me?”

Eyes widening, you pulled away. 

“What? No! Finn, what are you even saying?”

Although his hands remained on your waist, his grip wasn’t gentle. Finn’s expression stayed tight, looking over your shoulder in order to avoid your gaze.

“You love to dance,” he said slowly. “So, what you’re saying is you don’t want to dance with me.”

“Finn.” You stared at him in amazement. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just tired – that’s all! I had dance early today, I have dance early tomorrow. Can’t we go and grab food somewhere? Just the two of us?”

Finn exhaled and it seemed as though he might acquiesce – but then he exhaled and returned to you.

His gaze seemed clouded, and you wondered in alarm how much Finn had drank. You didn’t know how much he’d had to pregame and found yourself wondering if he might throw up. Finn had a very thin line between tipsy and puking.

“Why don’t you like my friends?” he demanded, hurt in his gaze.

Taken aback, you could only stare. “I – what?”

“See?” Finn looked away. “You didn’t even deny it.”

“No, I – you just took me by surprise,” you said, reeling a little. “Your friends are fine, Finn. They’re just not my friends. I don’t know them very well.”

“Well… alright,” he said, slightly chastised.

Unsure where this was coming from, you stood there a moment and let everything sink in. Finn wasn’t a yeller – he still wasn’t really yelling – but something was clearly bothering him. Maybe it was the dance club around you, but you had a feeling it wasn’t just that.

“What’s this really about?” you said, having to yell in order to be heard over the music.

Finn shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Finn.”

“Nothing!”

“Why don’t we go somewhere so we can talk,” you said, stepping back. “My head’s starting to hurt, anyways. We can go –”

“No,” Finn said abruptly, cutting you off. “I don’t want to leave.”

Your eyes widened in amazement. “No?”

Finn met your gaze. “You said this was our night, Y/N,” he said, stepping closer. “I haven’t seen you all week and you promised we’d go out together tonight. This is what being out looks like, Y/N!” he said, sweeping an arm. “Look around!”

“I – okay,” you said, baffled. “But I have class in the morning.”

“You always have class the next morning.”

“Because I do!”

Dropping both arms, Finn took a step backwards. His expression hardened a little, but beneath all that exterior you saw an undercurrent of hurt.

Lifting a hand, you rubbed at your temples. You hadn’t been lying when you said you felt a headache coming on. This was the same argument you’d had weeks ago, but you thought that had been settled. A few weeks prior, you wouldn’t have come out to the club at all but now here you were, nearing 1:00 AM.

“Nothing’s changed, has it?” Finn asked, his voice louder than normal. “You still don’t want to be here, do you?”

“Want to be here?” you blurted. “I mean, no – not really, Finn! I wanted to spend time with you and instead, here we are. Clubs kind of suck!”

“Well, sorry the things I want to do aren’t fun enough for you.”

“Do you seriously want to be here?” you asked in disbelief. “You want to be sweat on by strangers while drinking a watered-down rum and coke at 1:00 in the morning?”

“Yeah, kind of!” Finn huffed. “Sorry if my interests aren’t high-brow enough for you, or whatever.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you groaned.

“Well, that’s what you said.” Shaking his head, Finn glanced away. “Fine. You know what? If you want to leave so badly, then go.”

“Well, I don’t want us to leave if –”

“Not us,” he corrected, returning his gaze to yours. “You. You can go if you want Y/N, but I’m staying.”

Before you could respond, Finn spun on his heel and shoved into the crowd.

You stared after him in shock, jaw dropping as he disappeared between people. Before you could run after, someone stumbled into you hard from behind. Cold soda and ice poured down your back, making you yelp as you jumped.

Nearly slipping on liquid, you spun around – only to realize your perpetrator was wasted. The girl giggled, then hiccupped, not realizing her drink was empty as she raised it.

“Sorry,” she slurred, blind to your distress.

Rolling your eyes, you stalked past her. Yelling at someone that drunk would offer no sense of retribution.

Scanning the crowd, you searched for Finn’s clothing but saw nothing. He’d been wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, so he unfortunately blended easily into the crowd. After tapping several strangers on the shoulder and in turn, getting hit on by several strangers – probably due to your soaked, see-through tank top – you gave up and walked towards the edge of the dance floor.

Vision starting to blur, you yanked out your cell phone and swiped up. Your fingers hovered over the call button a few times before you gave up and shoved your phone in your bag. The logical thing to do would’ve been to find Finn, or to find one of Finn’s friends and convince them to leave but for some reason, you just couldn’t.

The idea of seeing Finn right now made you furious. He’d been a jerk and you knew if you saw him, you’d only end up saying things you’d regret. Instead, you clutched your bag tighter and spun towards the front.

As you passed by the coat check, you slowed enough to notice the line outside. People stretched down the block – if you left the club now, there’d be no getting back in. Turning around, you once again searched the crowd.

The booth you’d sat in wasn’t far away, but it remained empty, all of Finn’s friends still out on the dance floor. Had you seen Finn at that point – had you seen anyone familiar – you might have decided to stay, but as it was, you saw no one. Finn hadn’t run after you, he hadn’t called and he hadn’t sent a text. Clearly, he didn’t care what happened to you tonight.

Buoyed by this knowledge, you gritted your teeth and walked out the door.

As soon as you stepped outside, the air dropped ten degrees. Shivering a little, you pulled out your phone and checked the Uber app. The moment you saw the surcharge, you winced. The cost for a cab back to Russet was three times the normal price. If you had to pay that, you’d be screwed.

Exiting Uber, you opened the train schedule and again checked the time. When you saw 1:15 AM, you groaned. All trains in this neighborhood stopped running at 1:00 AM. This was why you’d planned on splitting an Uber home with all of Finn’s friends.

“Hey, you! Princess!”

Head jerking upwards, you found an unfamiliar guy leering at you from line. Glancing over your shoulder, you realized he was talking to you.

“Yeah, you!” he said, hanging over the ropes. “Want to come in the club with us, princess?”

Immediately, you wrinkled your nose. “Why would I want to go back in the club?” you responded. “Didn’t you just see me leave?”

His smile dropped. “Damn, I was just asking. No need to be rude!”

Rolling your eyes, you stuck your middle finger up in the air as you walked away.

“Whatever, bitch!”

Fighting back a shiver, you continued to walk until you were halfway down the block. It was quieter there, but that wasn’t always a good thing. Glancing around, you saw several alleys and tried to place yourself strategically away from the shadows. You hated going to parts of town you didn’t know, especially at night and especially alone.

Suddenly, your rash decision to leave the club struck you as foolish. Opening your phone, you pulled up Finn’s number and pressed call. Screw your dumb pride – you’d forget all about the fight if he’d come stand outside. Finn may have been drunk, but he wasn’t an asshole. You knew if Finn knew your situation, he’d immediately leave the club.

His phone went straight to voicemail.

Blood turning cold, you stared straight ahead for a moment. Hand shaking, you pulled your phone away and stared at the screen. Finn’s outgoing message continued to jabber, but to you the audio seemed almost blurred.

Trying his number again, you once more reached voicemail. At this point, you began to see red. No matter how annoyed he’d been at you, Finn had absolutely no reason to turn off his cell phone. And yet, it was the only explanation.

Spinning around on your heel, you marched back up the block and to the front of the line. Tapping the bouncer on the shoulder, you waited until he turned around.

“Yeah, hi,” you said, not bothering with a preamble. “I need to get in.”

The man gave you a strange look. “Huh?”

“To the club,” you said, jerking your chin. “I need to get back inside.”

“Uh, sure. You and the rest of the line.”

“No, you don’t understand,” you said, crossing both arms over your chest. You were just now remembering the spilled drink from earlier. “I was in there earlier. Look,” you said, showing the stamp on your wrist. “You must’ve seen me exit a few minutes ago. Just let me back in!”

“No can do, sweetheart.” He shook his head. “Rules are rules. When you left, we let someone else in. The club’s already at capacity.”

Stomach sinking, you stared at him for a moment, but he refused to budge. Glancing over his shoulder, you could see the dance floor in the distance, strobe lights flashing and bass thumping. Before you could try anything else, the leering guy from the line reached the front.

Seeing you, he did a double take. “Princess!” he said, slurring a bit. “Did you change your mind? You want to come party? I’ll forgive you if you give me somethin’ in return…”

Teeth gritted, you immediately turned and walked away. The guy continued to call after you, so you sped up your pace to put distance between you. Fighting another chill, you forced yourself to keep walking and not turn around.

In one hand, your thumb hovered over the emergency button on your phone. If the guy broke from the line, you weren’t above calling the cops. Finally, both his shouts and the sound of the club faded away.

Paused on the sidewalk, you realized you were in the same place as before. Knowing this was a bad situation, you reluctantly opened the Uber app once again. Screw the cost – better to be in debt than abducted from an alley.

As soon as you opened the app, you saw the surcharge remained at 3x and the wait time had risen to fifty minutes.

“Oh, hell no,” you groaned, closing the app.

Staring at the street, you went through your mental checklist of options again.

The train was a no, as was Uber – you could walk and find a cab, but this was an unfamiliar part of the city and you didn’t like those odds. You had none of Finn’s friends’ numbers and Noelle was likely asleep. She didn’t have a car to come get you, anyways.

Still, she could probably figure out a way to find you if you asked. Sighing, you thumbed through your contacts until you found the right number. It took you a long moment before you forced yourself to press call.

Lifting the phone to your ear, you hugged yourself with one arm while you waited. When the person on the other end answered, you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Hey,” you sighed. “It’s me. Can you… come pick me up?”

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[limeinaltime]

AU idea: Basically, R's a good friend to X. She's still the same sadistic bitch, the only difference is that she's nice to X and only X. Like, she respects her opinion, stops when X tells her to stop, and when X gets angry with her, she does everything she can to make it up to her. Is this unrealistic? Yes. Is this something that would never happen? Absolutely. Do I give a shit? No. Absolutely not. I'm making R and X's friendship healthy AND NO ONE CAN STOP ME!!

JCJ's shitty programming, manipulation and abuse towards robots is the real villain of X/R/hj

Honestly, the reason I drifted away from X/R in the first place was because they just reminded me of pre-season 5 Catradora, but without the lingering chemistry that made Catradora eventually work (Catra was a huge inspiration for R’s character). If R was nice to X and X only, X would still feel uncomfortable with how she treats everyone else, and that would create the divide that leads to them falling out as friends, and R becoming joining the antagonist cast of the two AUs she exists in. She does eventually come around, but so much damage has been done to her and X's relationship that the two need time apart to recover (mostly R, since X has had time to develop and knows they don't work as friends... yet).

Honestly, I do kind of want to do an analysis of R and why she's such a harsh, cold bitch, so I'm just going to use this ask as an excuse to do that. You can throw some of it into your AU if you want, but I feel like I haven't thrown enough of R's character out there for people to make a solid conclusion about who she is as a person. She is a fucked-up person who’s done terrible things to the people around her, but I don’t want to write her as some one-dimensional monster.

R is just as traumatized as the other drones, even if she doesn't show it as much. The company built her to be a "copy" to X in terms of power and strength, but no matter what the company did to upgrade her, she could never reach the standard X set just by existing. She was considered JC Jensen's cool new toy while X was more like the monster they kept in their basement (this wasn't entirely an exaggeration), but thanks to highly advanced artificial intelligence, R knew that she was only "good enough". Second best to that tall, quiet freak the company kept around instead of just tossing into the scrap heap. She is aware of M.O.M and the circumstances behind X's conception, and isn't above using that to make herself feel above her self-proclaimed "rival". X not fighting back is just fuel for the fire. On one hand, that just encourages young R to hit harder, to assert her dominance, but on the other hand, it pisses her off that X doesn't seem to consider R someone worth fighting. That creates the fucked-up cycle that is their relationship.

Aside from X and S, R was friends and honestly kind of popular among the other regular IDs, who though she was really cool due to her being an artificial copy of what could qualify as a robot god. Several of them got roped into the bullying X put up with growing up, and R isolated her further from the others to hold onto that popularity she had. She lost all of them when the Internecion Drones were wiped out, and puts a lot of blame on X for not being able to stop them from dying (she doesn't know that all the IDs went berserk due to overheating and cannibalized each other). Her dislike towards the DDs is mostly due to the fact that despite having the names of R's old classmates, they can never replace the friends she lost, and in R's eyes, can never live up to the standards their namesakes set. If anything, they remind her too much of X, too passive, too weak, too human. This manifests as her rough and cruel treatment of them, in some buried, skewed hope that she can beat that out of them and make them into drone who will survive. The reason R holds onto X so much is because she's the closest thing to her old life that's left. Q is basically a glorified drug dealer and S has always been useless and terrible at being a war/murder machine anyway, so all that's left is the freak she bullied regularly as a kid. Fun.

X's empathy and passive nature (as well as her lack of communication about how she feels) pisses R off since she thinks that's the reason all her old friends died, and that she's only spread it to the runts who have to carry a legacy behind their serial designations that they don't even know about. She sees this mission against the Worker Drones as a means to make up for the agency and power JCJ stole from her and her old friends, and she takes it out on X when X starts to question the true nature of their mission before eventually driving X away. This toxic behavior also spreads to how she treats Q and S, who both end up leaving her. After a lot of violence, killing, fighting and shouting and character growth, X finally reaches a point in her own development where she can healthily express herself. She knows that R has been hurt and traumatized in different ways then what she’s went through, but that gives her no right to take her pain out on others, especially on her students. Trauma shouldn’t be used as an excuse to inflict that upon someone else. It’s a twisted, ugly cycle, and in the end, R is the last chain holding everyone to it.

R isn’t an irredeemable monster, even if the company wanted her to be one, so she’s smart enough to realize that she’s done a lot of damage to the people around her, so she leaves. in HPE, she’s joined by 12 and 10, and while 10 isn’t exactly apologetic about her shitty behavior, 12 is remorseful, and she and R talk and learn to let go of their fear and pride, which opens the door to more introspection and growth. Is R a grouchy bitch, even after the introspection and time away from the people she’s hurt? Yes, but she’s more like a crotchety old grandma who lets kids sit on her porch, and becomes like a slight parallel to X as 12 and 10 have two daughters, 2 and Ashe. R is eventually able to apologize and express remorse for her actions, and while she is met with mixed responses, X forgives her and the two are able to understand each other’s own trauma and suffering under the company’s hand, and while they don’t ever really become friends, they are no longer enemies, and R is able to let herself become the better person the company denied her from becoming.

TL;DR All these robots need therapy and to put a billionaire company six feet under.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What are your thoughts on Near and Mello (Death Note)? You don’t seem to like them as characters

I was about to say that I don’t necessarily dislike them, but, honestly, I do. I really really do.

And hey, look at that, I get to offend an entirely new fandom. 

To be honest though I’m not even sure where to begin.

I suppose I’ll start with the concept of the orphan heirs to the title of L.

Wammy’s Dog Fighting Arena for Boys

Death Note is a fantastic and brilliant anime, however, every once in a while more general anime tropes sneak through and cause it to fall flat on its face. We have L, who for reasons is a sugar addicted man child (well, I actually have thoughts on L, who I quite like, but my theory is that he is the way he is because he’s a jackass who fully intends to be that off putting).

The Wammy orphan bit is the worst of this. We have an orphanage of... children competing for the title of L, an anonymous detective that Watari made up. These children are all super serial geniuses who are even weirder and less socially adjusted than L. Just, kill me.

Even the premise for why they exist is bad. The authors’ in the Death Note guide admit that, when they realized they were going to kill off L, they realized they had a major problem. They didn’t want a repeat arc with another L as a nemesis, SO THEY BROUGHT US TWO Ls, THAT’S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!

Why I call it anime derp is that the whole ridiculous Wammy’s concept is never addressed. Wammy’s existence, the little we do know of L’s backstory, makes Watari the level of skeevy reserved for manipulative Dumbledore.

The man uses these children and pits them against each other in a high stakes intellectual environment where they stake their entire worth on their still developing intelligence.

In canon, we see what this has done to Mello, L, Matt, and Near. All of them are completely messed up human beings and they either die or never get better. L is an utter jackass who cares very little about justice. Mello becomes an actual gangster and uses the Death Note to make hits on rival gang members (not to mention Sayu, but we’ll get into that). Matt also becomes a gang member and kidnaps multiple women. Near cannot function, at all, in society and when we catch up to him ten years later in that hilariterrible one-shot he’s gotten even worse.

If we’re taking LABB as canon then you have Beyond Birthday who becomes a serial murderer and lights himself on fire in a desperate, insane, attempt to show up L. We have reference to A who killed himself under the pressure of trying to become L. 

We can presume there’s been other orphaned children, who had nowhere else to go and no one to protect them, that Wammy just destroyed so that he could have Batman.

Death Note, however, never touches this with a ten foot pole.

Instead these are our weird and quirky band of heroes who are so weird because... it’s anime and we like weird! Weird means you’re a super genius! Yay genius orphanage!

So, right at the very idea of Wammy’s existing, they already have to win me back. Mello and Near do not win me back.

Mello is a Thug

We’re supposed to feel very bad for Mello, he’s always been second to Near and this messes him up, and he leaves to try and find his own path. I’d say god bless him, you go Mello, except his own path turns out to become a gangster.

Mello’s not a remotely good guy.

Just because he’s pitted himself against Light, and tells us he’s sticking it to Kira and Near at the same time, does not make him remotely good. And that’s what irks me about him, Mello is a great skeezy character, but the story actively wants me to think he’s the hero.

It’s sort of like trying to convince me that Kylo-Ren is secretly a great guy. It’s really hard to sell me on that when we watch Mello in real time and, more, why are we even bothering? Let Mello be the scumbag he is.

First, Mello steals a weapon of mass destruction and immediately begins using it. It’s not about solving the Kira case for him, or at least, it’s certainly not about stopping Kira. It’s about showing up Near, L, and all those who never believed in him. 

That Mello, first, not only steals the notebook from the government, but then gets it into the hands of gangsters, AND THEN USES IT TO ASSASSINATE HIS RIVALS. Well, suffice to say, you do you Mello.

More, this is a guy who tortures, murders, and probably rapes multiple people to get this to happen. Mello’s attempts to retrieve the notebook start with the kidnapping of Japan’s head of the police force. He then kidnaps Light Yagami’s younger sister and... Something very bad happens to Sayu.

We never get confirmed what happen, we don’t see much of her in captivity or much after, however immediately after the events we see her in a wheelchair. At the end of the series, Sayu is catatonic and barely able to express emotion.

It’s highly implied she was raped.

With the kidnapping of Takada, regardless of what you think of her... Nothing good was going to come of that. Mello resorts to the tactics of terrorists just so he can prove he’s a big man.

Further, Mello’s brilliance is never really that brilliant. Yes, he gets the notebook (though notably does not hold it long and loses his name in the process). However, his big win at the end is supposed to be him having realized Mikami would mess up were he to kidnap Takada. He had no guarantee of this, frankly, I think he was just kidnapping Takada in an act of desperation. Because that’s what Mello does when he runs out of ideas: he kidnaps people close to Light Yagami and sees what happens.

This gets both him and Matt brutally killed.

Near’s a Moron

Near is so weird and so maladjusted, my god, and he’s such a pretentious ass. He’s just... knock off L in every way. Which, granted, is kind of what he’s supposed to be. Except that the story never capitalizes on this. 

We see hints of it, Near trying desperately to live up to L’s name and mantle, but it never really delves into it.

More, what we do see of Near’s plans...

I really want to go into the one-shot epilogue, because that said so much about Near, but I’ll resist.

Instead I’ll note that L was 13 days from proving Light’s guilt. It takes Near and Mello combined five years, and Mikami’s dumb ass, to get to the same place. And even then, they nearly all died if Matsuda had been a worse shot.

Near has no idea that he’s nowhere near as brilliant as L. Instead, he gives us the world’s most hamfisted, frustrating, lecture at the end of the series where he tells us that Light was so stupid and that together he and Mello triumphed over evil.

Good for you, Near, I’m so happy for you.

I Just Don’t See the Point of Them

The second half of Death Note, in general, is a slough. It’s not just me saying this, you ask the majority of the fanbase, and they’ll admit it all goes downhill with L’s death.

I think the authors desperately wanted to avoid writing the dystopian politics of what would happen if Light won unopposed. They wanted a detective thriller, the trouble was, that story ended with L’s death.

So they try to feed us the same, but worse, story twice, and it just doesn’t work.

Personally, what I’d rather have seen is Matsuda and company slowly but surely realizing Light is Kira and Matsuda, in the end, having no choice but to assassinate him as they just cannot get any proof. It’s a very different story, but it would have been such a good story of betrayal that, again we sort of got hints of, but never really confronted.

Alternatively, keep Naomi Misora alive, and have her be the spearhead of brilliance we need. As it was, I am eternally sad/amused that she was killed off because she was too damn smart for the series (the authors admit she figured everything out too fast and as a result had to be eliminated).

Just, please, not genius orphan children. 

[angry-geese]

Fireside

Leone Abbacchio x Gn!Reader

Warnings: sfw. mentions of violence and injury. pre vento aureo

Notes: how Abbacchio met his s/o + some relationship fluff

When Abbacchio heard that there was going to be a new member of Bucciarati's gang, he was less than thrilled.

Abbacchio hated when the group expanded. He hated the new faces, the new names to memorize, and how didn't know them yet. He had no way of knowing if they were reliable or not. He hated change. Every day for him was on repeat: get up, work for Bruno, drink himself to sleep. He was content with the way things were. He's never eager to see something change.

If you had any say in the matter, you would have never joined Passione. After a debt brought on by your family, you found yourself running out of options. It was join or die. You would be assigned to Bucciarati's gang after passing Polpo's test. The stand you gained wasn't strong enough for you to join the guard, or even the hitman team. For that, you often considered yourself lucky. Things could always be better; its them getting worse that worries you.

Passione was nothing like the old mafia movies you watched as a kid. You're not quite sure what you expected, but this was a lot worse.

Bruno was a decent leader- his teammates respected him and he only tried to kill you once. Compared to some of the others, you had it easy. Narancia and Mista warmed up to you rather quick. They were a bit hyper for your liking, but soon grew on you. Fugo took longer to come around, but eventually got used to you. When Abbacchio first laid eyes on you, he couldn't figure out why you were there. For as new as you were, you held your own pretty well. You weren't outright weak, but it was clear you had not been in the life for long. It was impressive, but not enough to say anything about it. Compared to the others, you were reserved. That didn't mean you were quiet. If the others got you going, you could be just as loud as them. Nobody was spared from your and Narancia's pranks. You grew into your stand. Bucciarati made the transition easier. They quickly became family; your annoying brothers and adoptive father.

Early on Abbacchio was a real prick.

Overall he was hostile and prickly. His personality was hard to get along with. In the beginning you kept your distance. You quickly became too consumed with work to worry about him, and pushed him to the back of your mind. Abbacchio gave you a week before you either broke down, or were killed. For him to respect a newer member, they had to prove themselves to the gang.

You lasted longer than he expected you to.

Over the year that you would work for Bucciarati, you had only been assigned on a handful of jobs with Abbacchio. Your conversations had been few, and only in passing. It pissed you off just a little bit. While you weren't the most personable either- at times you were outwardly hostile- you figured he'd have come around by now. With as aggressive as you could be, it shocked him just how easily you charmed the others. To him, it almost felt artificial; it was a skill bred from the need to survive in Passione's underground, not true charisma. He never failed to let you know that you hadn't proved yourself to him.

You two were only sent on the same assignment together because everyone else was busy. Despite your reservations about Abbacchio, there wasn't much you wouldn't do for Bruno. It was only one job. If it was that bad, you'd ask to not be partnered with him again.

Your job was to retrieve a dead drop, then return to the hideout. It wasn't anything high-stakes. Abbacchio sat the entire car ride in silence. It wasn't hard to tell when he was having a rough day. He was never the most talkative, but he always participated in whatever conversation the others were having- if only to insult them. Today he was quiet, which didn't seem like a good sign. If someone gave you an inch, you'd take a mile. Getting them to talk was a way to get the ball rolling. Any polite conversation you tried to have was shot down with a glare, so you quickly scrapped that idea. You figured he was hungover, and thought it best to leave him alone.

You suppose it was better than him complaining. There was only so much you could put up with.

It was really no fault of your own that things went wrong. Expect everything that can go wrong, to go wrong. The mission wasn't supposed to be high-stakes; there was no reason why another group would be after the dead drop. A rival gang spotted you and went for the package. Abbacchio took it and ran while you tried to hold them off for as long as possible.

As you were heading back to the car, you were cornered.

The kid couldn't have been much younger than you. He aimed a gun between you and Abbacchio, who was only a few feet behind you. He gives you two no time to respond, and only hesitates for a moment when he pulls the trigger.

He missed.

You still don't know how he missed, only taking a moment to thank whatever higher power that just saved your ass. That didn't stop your short life from flashing before your eyes. The bullet struck the ground just a few feet behind you, sending up a spray of dirt and rocks. Part of him couldn't believe that someone was willing to take a bullet for him. Really, you were just trying to protect the package, but it was probably better if he didn't know that.

On the trip back home he scolded you for being so reckless. Since the kid missed, you saw no issue in it. What he feels isn't a sense of pride, more than it is guilt.

He found you less annoying than he'd ever admit.

Whatever you did, it planted the seed of affection within him. Admittedly he was the last place to nurture feelings, and akin to planting flowers in a barren desert while refusing to water them, it didn't stop it from blooming.

There was a mutual respect between the two of you. The man was a mess, and rarely sober, but began to pick himself up a bit. This did not go unnoticed, though the others rarely mentioned it. You would go on to be assigned more jobs together. He was getting less and less vocal about how much he disliked you. While you didn't talk much, you spent a lot of time together. He often found your presence comforting. He'd grown to not only tolerate your company, but enjoy it. The two of you would never admit to being friends- he was too stubborn for that- but that's what you seemed to be.

On late nights he'd walk with you to your apartment. He claimed he didn't want you to get mugged, and that you lived in a bad part of town, but the act was dropped when you mentioned him being chivalrous. You would invite him in for a drink or two. While you didn't want to encourage his bad habits, he never said no to a glass of wine. He never said no to you. You'd had gotten used to being around him. The little spare time you had was spent with him- not doing anything in particular. It never had to be anything special, often times you just lounged around the hideout together.

One night he was out for a job later than usual.

He insisted on taking this one alone. Bruno raised an eyebrow to that, but made no comment on it. Abbacchio had been in a bad mood all day, and while they couldn't prove it was you, the others had the sneaking suspicion it was. You argued. Often. It was rarely serious. He showed his affection by bullying people. What he threw at you, you would send right back.

As much as you didn't like him going alone, you didn't fight it. Mostly out of spite.

By then the others had gone to bed- or gone home for the night. It was only you left at the hideout. On the few nights he'd go straight home, he'd shoot you a text. There wasn't any particular reason you stayed back for him. Maybe it was a gut feeling. It felt a bit childish to wait by the door. He was your partner and you weren't eager to see him sent back in a pine box. Unfortunately, he was important to you.

By the time the door opens, you're dozing off. You're on your feet the moment you hear it.

"You scared the hell out of me." You say.

"The front door. Scared you." He says.

"You scared me," dramatically you roll your eyes, "asshole. You always tell me when you'll be gone this late."

His heart races when you give him a once-over for injuries. While you don't touch him, the way your gaze travels over his body makes him a bit anxious. On his best days he doesn't want to be looked at, on his worst its unimaginable- he just doesn't want to be perceived. If he had any say in it, he wouldn't care about how you saw him. But you make him worry about how others view him.

"This isn't your blood I hope." You say.

Slowly he nods.

You motion for him to sit, before grabbing the first-aid kit from the other room. The wound looks better when all the blood is cleaned away, and doesn't appear to need stitches. Gently you set your hand on his. It's rather cold. When he doesn't pull away- or show any sign of discomfort- you wrap your arms around his neck.

"What are you-"

"Just let me have this." You say. "We don't have to talk about it ever again."

His arms awkwardly wrap around you, his head resting in the crook of your neck. He can't remember the last time someone has held him like this. The smell of your shampoo is comforting. His heartbeat drops for a second before picking up in pace.

"I was worried about you." You say.

No matter how many times he goes over it in his head, he still doesn't believe it. It's not that he doesn't feel the same way- he's head-over-heels for you- but he's in denial about it.

"I love you."

It's under your breath, and so quiet that he almost has to do a double take.

"Say it again..." He says.

"I love you."

He doesn't believe it, but he's so content in your arms he won't question it. He could die happy in this moment.

It would take the others weeks to realize you two were dating.

To their credit, it was sooner than you expected. Not much changed when you made things official. Abbacchio wasn't a fan of pda. They were only tipped off because of Narancia. The prank was harmless- he did that sort of thing all the time- but god it pissed Abbacchio off. Nobody had seen him that mad in years. When you told him to calm down, and that it didn't bother you, he sat in the corner to brood.

You moved in together not long after that. The change felt natural, and took little effort from either of you. It was easy to settle into a routine with him, seeing as you spent so much time at his apartment anyway. Abbacchio always woke up first, although he stayed in bed until you woke up. He's not sentimental- nor will he ever admit to be- but he never passed up the opportunity to watch you while you were so at peace. His nightmares existed long before Passione. He rarely slept, and usually got four hours on a good night. Sleeping next to you helped.

On the rare days off you had together, you spent your time lounging around your apartment. When he was sober, he was a decent cook, and often made dinner for the two of you. He preferred dates at home, over going out in public. He'd bring you coffee while the two of you would watch Italian soap operas. If he was feeling particularly soft, he'd let you braid his hair. Physical touch was something he was still getting used to. It's not that he didn't like it; it was unfamiliar to him and that made him uncomfortable. If it made you happy, he'd try it, even if he personally didn't see the appeal.

He often finds himself thinking about the future. Before it never seemed too bright. Thinking about his past is an almost immediate slope into self loathing. He wasn't all better, but he was healing. Both you and Bruno made sure of that. There wasn't much that he wouldn't do for you.

Every day he wakes up slightly more in love than the last.

[violyane]

Do you have some hc for Kaga and Megami

I don't know if you're asking for Kaga and Megami separately or kagami itself, but I'm gonna do both because they literally live rent-free in my head so lets gooooooo

Kaga

As a kid, he often visited his parents at Saikou Corp., which made him more interested in the company (and that's probably where he met Megami for the first time 👀)

Nobody from Akademi knows that he wore glasses in the past (except Shiromi and Info-chan, but that info doesn't benefit them rn).

He's fond of the way his hair looks after the failed experiment.

His hair will never turn back to its original color (but his genes may have remained the same idk)

He's the type of person that tends to overwork himself. He can literally not sleep for three days straight while he's working on something.

Because of sleep deprivation, his veins are basically filled with coffee by now.

It's a known headcanon, but he hates cats due to another failed experiment that involved one.

Another known headcanon, but I believe he could be related to Shiromi (maybe not siblings, but they could be cousins)

He's the type of person that would complain about unrealistic plots in movies/games

Out of all students, he dislikes Kizana the most. There were times where they fought during the whole club leader meetings.

He's mostly afraid of Aoi, since she doesn't trust him around Megami and has threatened him multiple times to stay away from her.

he has an ectomorph body type

He already lives in an apartment alone, where he has his own small lab.

He carries a diary around, where he scribbles new invention ideas.

He's a terrible cook.

Megami

She doesn't like physical affection mainly because she never actually experienced it on her own when she was younger.

She gets slightly nervous when she doesn't understand modern trends that her generation follows.

She copied her mother's looks since she thinks her mother is an exemplary example of elegance.

She wants to meet with her aunt and ask about her past decisions.

She gets teased all the time by Shiromi. She shows her dank memes while Megami just unemotionally looks at it.

She rarely talks about her emotions and had opened up only to her best friend.

She doesn't like metal jewelry.

She never watched a romance movie ever.

She's fond of ancient art

Wearing gloves give her comfort. She feels uncomfortable without them.

Although she doesn't have much time, she tries to spend her free time around nature.

As a child, one of her wishes was to experience one day as a normal girl.

Every time she gets the chance, she tries to fix her relationship with her brother.

On any formal occasions, she ignores people who are trying to flirt with her.

Kagami

I believe their relationship it's kinda a 'rivals to lovers' trope.

As times go by, Megami will become more comfortable with showing affection around Kaga.

Kaga will try to 'normalize' Megami's life as much as possible by taking her on casual dates.

While they are together they love to talk about new scientific discoveries and theories.

Kaga visits Megami in the student council room all the time, while she works there alone.

They dislike acting all lovey-dovey in public, but whenever they are alone Kaga becomes more clingy.

Kaga can get jealous pretty easily around Megami since he knows all the world is basically trying to take her hand in marriage.

When Kaga hurts himself while experimenting, Megami gets very overprotective.

When they started dating they began to experiment more with their appearance (trying new clothes, hairstyles, etc.)

Megami tried to persuade him to exercise with her regularly but gave up after Kaga almost died at the gym.

Megami finds it cute how Kaga talks to himself while working on something.

They both complain at each other for working too much but do it anyway.

Although Megami always complains about Kaga's messy hair, deep down she likes it.

There’s probably more but I need to save some hc for my fanfictions haha 

[veronicamarsconfessions]

Joel Silver, The Ruthless Producer (But He Wouldn’t Allow Logan To Be Killed)

This blog talks a lot about Joel Silver and his influence on pop culture (especially his role in Veronica Mars). He is well known as one of the “Bosses From Hell” in Hollywood and yet he is the lesser evil from other producers like Harvey Weinstein and Scott Rudin. Which is not a compliment whatsoever. But he is known as very protective with his assets such as his TV shows.

It is surprising that we hardly heard about sexual misconduct allegations against women/men (yet) especially during this decade alone. According to many, he is not interested that much in sexual hedonism as he is more concerned with being on top of the food chain. He is a married flamboyant producer who is deeply serious about his investments. He is always at the movie/tv set, watching everything like a hawk, making sure that everything is working accordingly. He dislikes unprofessional behavior from actors or showrunners, and most of the time, he just loathes writers. “Writers sometimes don’t know what works and what’s not. I don’t care if you are a brilliant writer, but I know better than anyone else in this business.”

That is the young Joel Silver, playing a frustrated director named Raoul in the movie 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit'. According to interviews, Raoul was based on himself but more tamer.

Joel Silver was a type of producer who likes to change a lot of the source materials, to the chagrin of the creators. Many just saw him as this tough guy producer who is very meticulous and wants the job done properly. Sources said that he liked to yell a lot, but hardly physical towards his employees (unlike Scott Rudin).

This is why it was so shocking that he and Rob Thomas had a fistfight argument at the Veronica Mars set. Rob must’ve pissed him off so bad that he resolved to a fistfight. According to a TVGuide interview, Rob said that Joel wanted to have Tara Reid as Trina Echolls and Paris Hilton to be put in the show as a guest star while promoting the House of Wax movie. Rob hated the idea and Joel didn’t take it lightly. Their brawl was reported to many blogs and forums back then.

Joel was frustrated and furious that Rob was adamant about his vision, citing that he knows more about what works and what’s not in the industry, and that includes casting and storylines. Rob insisted that Veronica should be with the love of her life, which was Duncan Kane. Both Joel and Rob head-butted about this because Joel knew that Logan was more a compatible and popular character than Duncan. Not liking the idea of being blackballed all the time, Rob wrote Logan as insufferable in season 2, hoping that fans would turn against the character.

The plan backfired as the fans at the time rejected Duncan instead. Diane Ruggiero even admitted that they were reading the feedbacks especially from Television Without Pity and she said that they didn’t have a choice but to get rid of Duncan. At the time, they also didn’t know whether the show was going to be renewed or not in season 3, especially during the merger between UPN and WB to form The CW. The fans’ voice was clear: they wanted LoVe (Logan & Veronica) to be together. This didn’t bode well with Rob, but the fans (and Joel) have spoken. He finally got rid of Duncan by sending him off to Australia with his baby. And that was it, the end. Logan and Veronica got back together.

But season three came, and another obstacle came in a form of Dawn Ostroff (the president of CW) who wanted some changes in the show for the network to be more teen-friendly. Gone the whole Noir and mystery style, they focused more on the white teen drama and a love triangle. At this moment, Joel decided to stay behind the scene. He was no longer hovering, he had other projects, other money to pursue. He still co-owned Veronica Mars. But he was no longer involved much.

When Veronica Mars was canceled, Joel immediately snatched Jason Dohring - he approached Jason "out of the blue” and said, “There's a role, and I'm making it younger". Joel offered the main role of the CBS vampire procedural series Twilight to Jason before it was changed into Moonlight. Jason read two pages of the script featuring Josef Kostan and was interested in the character's "dark" and "sharp" personality. Jason had to go through the normal audition process and was not sure he would have gotten the role without Joel Silver, who had "pushed it through to the end". Joel noticed very early that Jason had a main protagonist charisma so he fought for him to be cast as Josef Kostan. Jason’s performance was praised by many critics and fans alike as this sarcastic manipulative vampire. Unfortunately, the writing of the show was atrocious and the rating was abysmal because of the Writers Guild strike and they had to hire ghostwriters to keep going. After one season, Moonlight was canceled and it was another money down the drain for Joel.

When the idea of a movie was pitched, Joel said the movie would NEVER HAPPEN. “There are no fans for this market. Sales of DVDs and merchandise are nonexistent.” Joel was thinking as a producer; no sales for the merchandise = no fans, which is wrong, obviously. But that was the way many producers thinking at the time, and still are. After his company severing ties with the Warner Brothers, Joel was no longer interested in any mention of the Veronica Mars movie. Knowing that Joel would not approve of the Kickstarter, Rob and KBell decided to go straight to Warner Bros head honcho Kevin Tsujihara and asked for a chance to get a Veronica Mars movie funded by the fans. The movie then was made, and Joel was proven wrong for this particular moment.

Sharks however started to circling Veronica Mars movie - a lot of producers started to take an interest in the Kickstarter when they found out that it became successful and a phenomenon — notorious producer Harvey Weinstein wanted to grab the rights of Veronica Mars and he boasted that he could make it more successful under his Miramax banner. But his rival, Joel Silver, wouldn’t have any of it. Joel might not be responsible with the Kickstarter, but he sure the hell would burn a swimming pool first before Miramax steals VMars.

Rob and Joel have a “good work” relationship - they definitely aren't friends in real life, but most of the time they avoid each other except in public events and red carpets. Their relationship is mostly being tolerant of each other. Joel didn't even bother to come to the Veronica Mars movie red carpet even though he was the executive producer of the movie and this franchise was a part of his life. Many thoughts for him not attending the red carpet were to avoid any embarrassment because he said that there were no fans of Veronica Mars. If it was allowed, Rob would say ‘fuck you’ to Joel as he strutted on the red carpet during the premiere of the Veronica Mars movie at the Chinese Theater.

However, when HULU took an interest in a VMars miniseries, Rob asked Joel for a favor, which is to get Kristen Bell to work around NBC The Good Place contract. As HULU is a part of Viacom and also an umbrella company for CBS and CW where VMars reside, technically she couldn't and was not allowed to be working with a rival company. So Joel helped Rob by calling the NBC president Noah Oppenheim to lend Kristen Bell to HULU temporarily. No words or interview about how Joel thinks about season 4 and how they killed off Logan Echolls; a character he protected during his reign back then. It is obvious if he was in charge of Veronica Mars season 4, he would scold Rob Thomas for killing the Golden Goose or maybe already stopping him before it happened. He might have a soft spot for Jason Dohring himself, calling him a “talented actor but too quiet for this industry”.

Joel Silver seems to have moved on from Veronica Mars and its tumultuous relationship within. He has a bigger problem than handling a franchise that has crashed and burned because it flew too close to the sun; namely being sued for the death of an assistant and the fact that he was kicked out from his own company (Silver Pictures) by the company CFO Daryl Katz, and also he is a bit struggling with financial means. But no matter what, Joel Silver was a part of Veronica Mars with its complicated history. And he definitely has no problem keeping going - after all, he is one of the notorious bosses in Hollywood.