#and silver bullshitting his way and everybody knows it but they like it anyway

[silvervioletvalentine]

🦋It’s true, it’s always been you 🦋

Pairing: Max verstappen X Cherrie!

Word count: 13.3k

Summary: in which Cherrie and max hate eachother so much that they fake date. Fall in love and traumatise their friends in the process.

Max swore that he hadn't meant to lie to his friends , he really didn’t . He had just made the small mistake of not really paying attention , already growing annoyed at the relationship talk that was taking place at the table around him .

Everybody else all happy with their partners and so grossly in love that it made max feel sick just to hear yet another cute little story about the picnic dates, surprise trips and romantic walks on the beach that they were having. Christ , talk about sickly.

Was he also feeling a tad bit bitter about his own long term singleness and dried up love life? No, not at all!

In fact he was completely happy on his own. He didn't need a woman messing with his head anyways , he already had Cherrie for that. She wasn't even his girlfriend and yet the annoying brat drove him mental and most of his days were spent trying to one up her in their petty arguments .

Even going as far as finding something that she couldn't do... like when she told them that she couldn't bake, max had found it in him to become a bakery overnight . Smugly shoving his homemade cupcakes in her face the next morning while she glared at him like he was the devil killing puppy's, threatening to shove her heel up his ass if he didn't back away from her immediately.

Which was why it was completely cherries fault that he did what he did next .

Having been caught up with gazing over at her by the bar, watching as she threw back vodka shots like they were water. Her silver dress shining underneath the lights , long legs crossed over each other as she gossiped with her friends.

So when Lando was teasing him for not having a girlfriend still, he found himself rolling his eyes in annoyance and opening up his big mouth before he could even think of the consequences of his next actions.

He looked at them blankly and straight up lied for no reason. "I do have a girlfriend actually." Enjoying the Brief feeling of watching the rest of the drivers pause their chatter to look over at him in shock.

Daniel was looking at him in disbelief , blinking rapidly . Opening and closing his mouth several times before a loud "what?! Who?!" Came hurling his way in shock.

Lando quickly echoing his disbelief as he looked at max with wide eyes. "You have a girlfriend?!" He repeated in surprise "since when?" He wanted to know.

Charles , Pierre and Carlos were looking at him with similar expressions of 'what the fuck?' And 'no way!'. Charles even going as far as snorting , smirking over at him . Having been spending way to much time with Cherrie , who happened to be his best friend, which meant that her bitchy meanness had started to rub off on him.

It was another reason why he couldn't stand her, even when she wasn't there in front of him. Her sidekick was doing her bitchy trade for her instead.

She had trained the Ferrari driver well and max was sick of seeing the two of them together, gossiping between them and judging everybody that passed them by.

Charles on his own was just fine , max could deal with him without any problem. He could even chat with him casually if he felt like it.

But Charles with Cherrie? Was a total fucking nightmare. They were like the terror twins and Cherrie was nothing but a bad influence on him.

Before meeting her Charles would have never had dared to look max in his face and laugh . Would never have had the confidence to scoff and give him a judgemental glance, snickering underneath his breath at him.

That was all Cherrie. Max was certain that her bitchiness was contagious . That had to be the reason for this bullshit.

"There's no way you have a girlfriend." Charles muttered in amusement , squinting his eyes at him. Already glancing over his shoulder to see where Cherrie was at the bar , ready to call her over so that they could gossip about this shit together like they usually did.

There was nothing more that Cherrie loved than teasing max for his long term sickness (singleness. Again. She was a mean little bitch!). Many a hour she had spent teasing him and rubbing it in his face about how she was never single and he always was.

The two always ending up fighting when max shot back that the only reason she wasn't single was because she was a attention seeking whore who couldn't stand to be alone .

He was right but Cherrie would never admit it. Instead she would argue with him instead. Neither of them yielding , trading insults and sarcasm until the sun started coming back up and one of their friends had to forcibly separate them.

Max narrowed his eyes at Charles, his grip on his beer bottle tightening at the condensing tone in his voice .

That two week holiday with Cherrie had turned him into a catty bitch. A complete replica of his best friend. Max thought in Annoyance. Trying to stay calm.

"Yes I do. And it's been going on a while.. it's just private." He continued to lie. Unable to pinpoint the reason to why he kept up his bullshit, only knowing that he wasn't go to stop now.

As soon as he saw Charles roll his eyes and the rest of his friends grin between themselves like it was so disbelieving that he could have a girlfriend , as though it was completely impossible.

He knew he was fucked.

"Oh really?" Charles smirked at him in amusement , exchanging a glance with Pierre beside him. "Who's the unlucky girl then?" He asked him.

And max. Max didn't know why he did it. Why he said it or why the thought even sparked up in his mind.

But he glanced over to the bar again and caught sight of the bane of his existence laughing loudly with her head thrown back, long hair shining and eyes squeezed closed in mirth as she giggled with her friends.

And he opened his big, lying mouth and blurted out "Cherrie. You'll know her very well I suppose."

The whole table froze. Mouth dropping open as Lando gasped loudly in shock, Daniel bursting into laughter while Charles smile slowly slid off his face, eyes going wide in disbelief.

"Cherrie? My Cherrie?!" He exclaimed loudly , slamming his glass down onto the table in shock. Looking at him as though he was expecting max to just burst out laughing and tell him that it was all a joke. That he wasn't dating Cherrie at all.

Max didn't laugh. He stuck with his lie, enjoying wiping the smug look off of his face.

He hid his smirk behind his beer bottle "I think you mean my Cherrie now." He simply responded , trying not to laugh at the look on everyone's faces.

Charles was shaking his head in denial . "No! There's no way mate. You hate each other!" He reminded him as though he had forgotten their constant arguing.

Pierre was nodding along in agreement , beyond confused . "Yeah.. I mean just last week she told you that she was going to break your knees If you ever touched her compact mirror again." He said.

Max paused for a moment , pursing his lips as he glanced over at said threatening , gorgeous maniac at the bar. Oblivious to the shit that he was currently dragging her into .

"That was..just a joke. She was joking." He muttered , lying through his teeth. Grimacing as he recalled the utter fury on her pretty face when he had been fiddling around with her Chanel compact mirror , trying to wind her up.

Then he had dropped it and she had almost dropped him , Face first onto the floor with her fists. That girl was completely material and max was certain that if she had to choose between her designer wardrobe or her friends , she would proudly declare Chanel as her new best friend instead.

Charles looked at him with a frown, mouth gaping open. "No she wasn't! You- you can't be serious! She would have told me!" He exclaimed, not believing his lie in slightest.

Max was in far too deep to start backing out now. Instead he rolled his eyes, actually getting annoyed by how they all seemed to think that there was no way on Earth Cherrie would ever look at him that way. It was more than insulting and he honestly felt a little hurt by their snickering and disbelief.

He knew that Cherrie was like... a thousand on a scale of ten. When she wasn't spitting venom on him and going on her sarcastic rants , she was a pure vision to be seen.

Max might have hated her but he wasn't blind. She had the kind of looks that made you stop in your steps and do a double take . Or a triple take.

Max could still remember the first time he had caught a glimpse of her at the paddock, there with Charles for the weekend. He had been stunned, stood frozen in his place like he had seen an Angel , watching her laugh freely , a smile so bright and beautiful that it lit up her entire face.

Then she had opened said mouth and all that attraction had went rushing down the drain because she was mean. A real Mean woman that had a razor for a tongue and could be a weapon for men's egos everywhere .

You had confidence? One look from Cherrie and no you didn't! She had the judgmental glance cut down to a T. It was honestly impressive.

In fact sometimes she and max argued without even saying a word . Simply arguing through squinted eyes and pinched expressions on their faces , it honestly freaked out their friends to witness the way that they could silently communicate from across a crowded room like that.

But instead of using their obvious connection for good, they used it for petty arguments instead.

"She doesn't need to tell you everything." Max countered back to him.

Hiding his grimace as he caught cherries curious eye from across the bar, lifting a eyebrow at him as she slowly lifted up her fist up to rest against her cheek, then lifted up her middle finger at him. Giving him a sarcastic smile too.

He looked back a frowning Charles, stomach turning as he just began to realise what the fuck he had done.

He had told their friends that he and Cherrie (who was still swearing at him from across the bar) that they were dating. There was absolutely no way that she would go along with this and he knew that she would happily call him out on his bullshit and get a good laugh at out if too.

So it was with that humiliating thought in mind that he quickly got to his feet , gave his still shocked and confused friends a casual nod of his head before turning around and beelining it straight towards the she devil herself .

I just need to get to her before Charles does. He thought to himself in a slight panic , hurrying over to her as fast as he could without physically running.

Cherrie looked up at him with a scowl as he came to a stop beside her , pursing her lips as she looked up at him from her seat. Twirling her straw around her cocktail glass, looking at him expectantly.

"Cherrie..." he breathed out , clearing his throat awkwardly as his mind went blank. Forcing his eyes away from her red. Pouty lips that were sucking at the straw, her eyes never leaving his , feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

Cursing everything that she had to look like a Goddamn sin in front of him. Why was it the crazy ones that were always so fucking hot?

How was this fair for his sanity?

She blinked up at him blankly . "Yes max? How can I help you today?" She drawled out , giving him a fake smile. Elbow resting on the bar as she rested her cheek in her hand, swinging her legs back and forth in front of him boredly.

He swallowed, giving her a tense smile as he leaned against the bar next to her as casually as he possibly could. Aware of their friends watching their interaction closely . Charles especially.

Cherrie eyed him suspiciously when he gently brushed her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder, eyes narrowing up at him dangerously.

"You look very pretty today." He tried to be nice , he really did. And it wasn't a lie. She looked beautiful but the look she gave him in response wasn't so pretty.

She looked him up and down judgmentally "I always look pretty. What have you done max? Actually I don't care. Whatever you've done I want no part in it!" She told him firmly. Sipping on her cocktail again casually. Glancing away from him.

Max sighed , expecting this. But he couldn't pussy out now. His pride was resting on this and the stubborn woman in front of him.

Why had he blurted out her name? He wondered in misery. Why had he told his friends that the one woman that loves to torture him and get underneath his skin was his girlfriend? Why?

Then he glanced at her smirking red lips and pretty eyes and knew exactly why he had said her name.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life and a tiny part of him (a huge part of him. All of him) wanted to be able to have a woman like her by his side. To be able to brag to his friends that he had the most gorgeous partner out of them all.

Because despite their constant arguing, he looked forward to her petty remarks and sarcastic rants. He looked forward to their bickering and the little looks she would give him when he would deliberately say something stupid just to get her reaction . One which she always gave him without missing a beat.

He enjoyed the way she would send him little texts throughout the week. A picture of a bull's ass along with the sweet words 'didn't know you were in Texas today!' . Continuing to send him pictures and insults all throughout her holiday just to wind him up.

He liked the way that they were both so similar , the same mean and judgemental humour. Because she might have been an asshole but so was he. He liked the way she would immediately look over to him whenever someone said something stupid , both of them sharing a look between them, a quick raise of the brow and a silent 'can you believe this guy?'.

He would never admit it but he enjoyed their bickering just as much as he enjoyed her bitchy remarks and sarcastic looks. She was the only one that dared to even go up against him like that, the only one that wasn't afraid to match him with his bullshit.

It was nice. She wasn't and he wasn't but he liked that they could be assholes together. Was that so bad?

He sighed loudly , looking at her pleadingly. "Cherrie..I may have.. fucked a little bit." He admitted to her as though it pained him because admitting that he was in the wrong to her did bite at him. It was hard.

Cherrie just side eyed him. "That's not new. But what has it got to do with me?" She muttered over the rim of her glass.

Looking over his shoulder and frowning slightly as she caught the way Charles was scowling over at them, meeting her eyes with a unimpressed look on his face .

"The fuck? Why is Charles glaring at us?" She questioned , confused as fuck to why her best friend looked so pissy.

Max grimaced , clearing his throat a little as he looked at her a little apologetically. "Yeah.. that has something to do with me fucking up. I may have .. lied to him." He mumbled , embarrassed.

Cherrie frowned at him in confusion "okay? About what?" She asked him warily , finally paying attention to him properly . Getting uneasy at the little, sheepish smile he gave her .

"I-er- I told him and all of them- that I had a girlfriend." He told her , fidgeting with the bar top anxiously . Unable to meet her eyes.

Cherrie looked at him in confusion "but you don't have a girlfriend . Unless you're calling your right hand the love of your life now." She snorted , giggling when he glared at her sharply.

Gritting his teeth as he inhaled deeply, trying to stay calm.

"Cherrie.." he gritted out "I told them that you're my girlfriend." He bluntly told her , knowing that there was no point beating around the bush.

Cherrie was still giggling at her own little joke, barely paying attention as she wiped underneath her eyes to make sure that her mascara didn't smudge from her tears of laughter.

"Ahh god. Well that's too bad but-" she abruptly stopped laughing. Head snapping back over to him with wide eyes, mouth dropping open in shock.

"Did you just say I'm your girlfriend?!" She exclaimed loudly , looking at him like he was insane .

Max quickly hushed her, repeatedly tapping at her arm to get her to quieten down. Glancing over his shoulder to see their friends still sending them curious looks, Charles looking like he wanted to kill him.

He hissed at her quietly "shut up! Not so loud! I told you that I fucked up! I just blurted out your name and now they think that we're together." He rushed out, quickly explaining his situation to her.

Cherrie scoffed at him, slapping his hand away from her arm. "Then tell them that you lied and that it Isn't true!" She said as though it was that simple.

It was Max's turn to look at her like she was insane . "No way! They'll never let me live it down! You have to help me!" He pleaded to her desperately out of options.

Cherrie laughed in his face "I don't have to do anything! As If they'd even believe it!" She snapped back at him, cheeks flushing despite her attitude. Not expecting to be demanded to be his girlfriend all of a sudden .

Max looked at her, insulted. "What’s that supposed to mean?!"

"It means that i date the Tom Brady's and the Henry cavill's. Not the verstappens!" She exclaimed at him, letting him drag her along to the corner of the bar , out of sight from their friends. Tucked in the dark corner of the room, max glared down at her in disbelief.

"Are you saying that I'm ugly?!"

She rolled her eyes at him . Huffing. "No. Just that I can do better!" She shot back at him.

Max pulled a face at her, scoffing at her arrogance. "You'd be lucky to have me! You're not that great! You've got a nice face but everything else isn't as good!" He insulted her, reaching down to adjust her necklace so that the hook was at the back of her neck instead.

Cherrie didn't even flinch at his hand near her neck, used to him fixing her clothing and jewellery for her. He had been doing it ever since he overheard her complaining about her hair getting caught in her necklace to her friend once.

It was the same way that Cherrie silently fixed his tie for him at events , muttering that she was going to strangle him with it if he continued to do it so sloppily. It was their weird normal.

"Shut up! I'm not pretending to be your girlfriend max. That means I'll have to spend time with you... willingly." She complained , leaning against the wall with a huff .

Max stood in front of her with his hands pressed to his hips. Frowning at her . "Come on Cherrie! I can't be humiliated like this. They'd never let me live it down. They've all got these perfect relationships and it just- I just was sick or being teased for be the only single one alright?" He sighed out to her, looking at her pleadingly . "I wouldn't ask this of you for no reason..."

She looked at him in silence for a moment , chewing on the inside of her cheek with a pissed off frown that he was dragging her into this and asking her to lie to her friends too.

"What do I get out of it? I don't want a boyfriend yet." She whined , looking up at him with a pissy pout on her face .

Max sighed, rolling his eyes at her. "Hawaii?"

She paused , pout quickly disappearing at the thought of a free holiday. "Two weeks?"

"One week." He negotiated.

She looked at him sternly "two weeks. And I want to drive your new Ferrari for a week too." She told him with a grin, wrapping her arm around his neck loosely as she looked up at him through her dark lashes prettily .

Max pursed his lips, looking down at her, unimpressed . "Two weeks and you're not going anywhere near my car."

She sighed dramatically, slowly going to pull away from him as she casually shrugged her shoulders at him. "Well I guess you can go back there and explain to them that you lied about me being your girlfriend"

Max groaned loudly and quickly pulled her back to him, rolling his head in defeat. "Fine. But You're not driving it without me being in the passenger seat." He sighed out .

She let out a small squeal, clapping her hands together in excitement while max tried to hide his amused smile at her behaviour. Shaking his head at her .

"Yay! I can't wait! Okay!" She grinned up at him happily, mood completely taking a full turn at getting a free holiday and getting to drive his Ferrari too. "Let's go then boyfriend!"

She stepped away from him and starting to walk back in the direction of the table where the rest of the drivers were sat, confidently strutting ahead of him while he hurried to catch up to her. Reaching to take ahold of her hand , making her look over her shoulder at him In surprise.

"We need to hold hands. Look affectionate . Otherwise they’re never gonna believe it." He told her , his lips twitching as he intertwined their fingers together slowly , watching her look down at their hands with a grimace. Unused to the casual affection from him.

The closest their hands had been was when they were slapping at eachother childishly during another petty argument.

"Why?" She blurted out , looking confused. She was never that affectionate with her past boyfriends either . She hasn't grown up with people hugging each other or her. Her family were never the caring or affectionate type.

In fact , the last time any of her parents had hugged her was for a press photo at her schools graduation.

She was used to casual moves. She had no problem sticking her tongue down someone's throat in a crowded room. But holding hands? She never held hands with anyone. It felt too intimate . Which she knew was ridiculous.

But she couldn't help it. Her arm erupted in goosebumps as she felt max softly caress her knuckles with his thumb , fixing the strap of her dress with his free hand casually. His eyes never leaving her flushed face .

"Because that's what couples do. Try to be nice?" He muttered to her with a teasing grin, enjoying the feeling of her hand in his as he slowly led them over to the table.

Charles already frowning up at them, looking like he was questioning his whole life

Cherrie didn't answer him. Just shoving him down into the booth and plopping herself down on his lap, giving him a smirk when he let out a startled huff, his pupils widening as he glanced up at her in surprise.

She just wrapped her arm around his neck loosely , feeling everyone's shocked eyes on them.

He wanted her to be nice and affectionate? Alright. She could do that. She'd show him how nice she could be.

It was with that sly thought in mind that she meant her head down and kissed him square on the mouth, a loud and noisy kiss. More for show than anything. Hearing max inhale sharply as he wrapped his own arm around her hips, his eyes fluttering closed as he tightened his grip around hips in response.

Kissing her back more gently than she kissed him, tasting her coconut lipgloss against his lips before she pulled away with a soft hum. Wiping gently at his now lipstick stained lips with her thumb, tapping his cheek with a smirk as she took in his flustered face as he swallowed thickly.

She then casually looked around the table at the gobsmacked friends and smiled brightly. "Having a good night guys?" She chirped at them, reaching for the cocktail glass in Charles hand and swiftly stealing it from him.

Charles was too busy gaping at the two of them to care, his eyes flickering bwgeeen them rapidly in shock. "But- Cherrie- what the fuck?!" He stammered out in  disbelief , feeling like he was going crazy.

Because since when was his best friend dating and kissing max verstappen?

Cherrie just shrugged casually , lifting the glass to her lips about to take a sip before max swooped in and took it from her. Setting it aside on the table and handing her his bottle of beer instead, not wanting her to drink from the same glass as Charles.

Cherrie just  gave him a amused glance, rolling her eyes at him. Max just raising his eyebrows at her with a small shrug, not explaining himself.

"What?" She acted like she had no idea why he looked so shocked. As though it was normal for her to be kissing max instead of fighting with him.

Charles looked at her in disbelief "what?! What do you mean what?! What are you doing? What is this?!" He motioned between her and max with his finger . Mystified and wondering what the hell was going on.

Max smirked at him as he hugged himself against her back, squeezing his arms around her waist , sighing softly as she buried her hand into his hair and gently scratched her nails against his scalp soothingly.

"Me and max are.." she tried not to cringe at the thought of saying boyfriend and girlfriend. "Fucking." She ended up saying instead like the mature woman she was.

Max rolled his eyes at her "we're dating." He corrected her , giving her a look.

She just shrugged "same thing." She muttered leaning back against him and getting comfortable on his lap.

"No it isn't." He muttered back to her.

"Yes it is. That's my dating."

"Just- just shut up." He sighed. Shoving the bottle of beer into her mouth to shut her up and to stop her from arguing with him.

Charles was gaping at them in disbelief "Cherrie! Why didn't you tell me? You told me that you wanted to strangle him yesterday!" He reminded her with wide eyes, wondering what the hell he was missing.

They both paused , Cherrie clearing her throat as she felt max scowling at her, his fingers squeezing her hips a little harder this time.

She smiled sheepishly , laughing as she patted Max's shoulder repeatedly. "Oh ya know!.. that was just..foreplay!" She exclaimed , grinning proud of herself for covering their backs with that one.

Max tried not to face palm, instead digging his forehead against her shoulder blades and trying not to scream. Holy fuck was she a terrible liar.

He glanced up at their friends disbelieving faces and grimaced. Oh dear. He was fucked. Completely fucked if she kept this up.

"I love wrapping my hands around his throat and.." she placed her hand around his throat , her mischievous eyes meeting his amused ones as she mimicked strangling him. Laughing loudly at the unimpressed look he gave her. "Just -yee haw!"

Daniel was laughing hysterically while lando looked between the two of them in amusement , eyeing Max's blushing face, cherries hands around his neck while she grinned obliviously at her best Friend casually. Charles just looked at her in disbelief , speechless.

"Yee haw?" Lando snickered , eyeing the two of them with a grin.

Max shifted in his seat , swallowing as he felt Cherrie shuffle around on his lap again. Swinging her body sideways so that she could rest her feet against the seat instead, her body still facing their friends as she sipped at her beer casually. Not at all bothered by what was going on.

"Yeah. Cause when I ride him-" max slapped his hand over her mouth before she could even finish her sentence but the damage had already been done.

Their friends were laughing at his flustered face while Charles just looked like he was going to be sick.

"But.. max Cherrie? Since when is he your type?" Charles still couldn't believe it. Frowning at her in confusion.

Cherrie swallowed her beer and simply shrugged, glancing down at max silently for a moment. Eyes flittering around his features , lingering on his lipstick stained pout for a moment too long before looking away.

She sighed "I like it when guys bully me." She said.

Pierre gave her a amused look "have you tried therapy? That seems like a personal issue." He snorted. Not at all surprised by her comment. He had heard her say crazier and more unusual things before.

Cherrie looked over at him with a grin, unbothered by the looks she was receiving from around the table. Ranging between amused, concerned and confused.

"Why do I need therapy when I have max to bully me? I mean just one insult and whooooo-" she might have been a little drunk at this point. Having already been drinking endless cocktails before max had even arrived . "My panties are gone! I love it when he's mean- it turns me on-" she told them shamelessly , giggling.

Max carefully pried the bottle from her hands , setting it aside quickly. Laughing awkwardly as he flushed bright red , patting cherries side with a small , amused grin.

"Okayyyy I think- I think we're gonna go!" Be announced . Pulling Cherrie up to her feet before she could even blink. Wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her as she wobbled on her heels , winking up at him drunkenly.

He had to laugh. It looked more like she had something in her eye than a wink. But she looked cute trying. He could give her that.

"Charles!" She said way louder than necessary making him cringe . Her best friend looked up at her tiredly . Far too confused to be dealing with her shit.

"I'll tell you everything.. but not tonight because this is my night. And Max's night. And max is gonna take me home. Aren't you max?" She rambled , hugging him from the side as she clung onto him with a drunken grin. Batting her eyelashes up at him.

He laughed and nodded his head, helping her out of the booth. "Yes I am." He agreed . Grabbing his jacket from his chair and helping her put it on so that she wouldn't be cold when they got outside in her tiny dress.

He huffed as she almost slapped him with her arm, leaning all of her weight against him as she made it more difficult for him to fasten up the jacket. Giggling like a naughty child as she moved around, trying to see Charles properly over his broad shoulders .

"Love you!" She called over to him, waving her hand at them chaotically.

Charles sighed long and hard. "Love you too but this isn't over!" He warned them, more to max than Cherrie. Narrowing his eyes at him. "I still don't believe this." He said . Not believing his lie.

Max just looked at him blankly "I don't care what you believe. It's the truth." He countered back, untucking cherries hair from his jacket so it didn't pull and hurt her head. "So..." he gave him a sarcastic smile, shrugging dramatically . "Bye bye!"

And with that max practically carried Cherrie out of the bar while she giggled incoherently against his neck, hugging him and refusing to let go.

So far. Max would say that it was going well. And he felt like he was definitely getting the full girlfriend experience when he was sat behind her on his knees at three o'clock in the morning , holding back her hair while she threw up her body's worth in liquor. Sobbing against the toilet lid as she promised to never drink again, max patting her back with a grimace as she babbled away to him tearfully.

It reminded him quickly that even the beautiful ones were a complete mess sometimes. And he had to laugh when he wiped her mouth and brushed her teeth for her, her eyes blackened with mascara from crying. Clinging onto him , still drunk and still such a mess as she spoke around the toothbrush tearfully

"Am i a good girlfriend yet?"

He just laughed and wiped her makeup streaked face with a wet towel affectionately. "You're doing a great job honey."

A week later and Cherrie was stood in front of her mirror , turning this way and that way as she tried on different dresses. Max sat at the end of her bed with his head resting in his hands, watching her get ready quietly.

"Do we have to go? I think they already believe us." She whined a little , not wanting to go to fancy restaurant when she could just stay at home instead.

Over the past week max and her and hung out almost everyday to sell their act. The first day that max had arrived at her door with a grin and a demand to come golfing with their friends, Cherrie had threatened to run him over with the  golfing kart.

Now , when he turned up at her door with a smile and a invitation to dinner with their friends , Cherrie had greeted him with a smile and dragged him to her bedroom to give him a small Fashion show of all her new dresses that she had bought . Max just humming along and nodding at them all, telling her that she looked pretty in them all.

"Yes we do. Do you really want to say no to free food?" He knowingly looked at her , fidgeting with the heels in his hands that she was having him hold onto while she tried to find ones that looked best with her dress.

Cherrie sighed loudly "no." She mumbled as she clipped earrings into her ears with a pout. "But still..oh my god..." she got distracted by her own reflection. Running her hands over the dress in amazement.

Eyes going dramatically wide as she looked in the mirror and met max eyes that were already on her . He hadn’t looked away from her since the moment she opened the door to her home and let him in with that damn smile lighting up her pretty face .

“Do you think my ass has gotten bigger?!" She wondered , Turning to the side again and running her hands over her butt in the skintight dress she was wearing , admiring herself with a small smile.

Max looked down at her ass silently , blinking heavily as he bit down on his lip, slowly nodding his head up and down in a daze.

“Yeah ..it's - it’s perkier." He said in amazement , unable to look away. Instead he slid his eyes up to her chest that was hanging out of the thin material too.

He grinned cheekily at her "I think your boobs have gotten bigger too." He told her casually. As though they were chatting about the weather.

Cherrie turned around with a loud giggle, looking pleased. "I know right! My bra size has gone up! Isn't it amazing? I mean .." she gushed confidently , excitedly. "I can't wait till Hawaii. I'm going to look amazing in a bikini!" She exclaimed.

Max chuckled , nodding his head along to her as he handed her heels back . Smiling to himself when she placed her hand on his shoulder to balance herself as she quickly put them on. Her chest right in his face as he shamelessly stared at her definitely bigger than before boobs in awe.

"For sure. I think your mouth has gotten bigger too."

She slapped the back of his head without missing a beat as she straightened back up, rolling her eyes at his teasing as he laughed loudly at her reaction . Grinning up at her slyly.

"Asshole!" She picked up her clutch bag and strutted out of her bedroom, max quickly hot on her heels . "Anything you want me to do tonight?"

Max groaned loudly like he was in pain "don't say stuff like that Cherrie! You're setting yourself up!" He almost whined. So many jokes and such little time.

Cherrie just giggled and let him take a hold of her hand again, used to it now. "Ya know.. this is going to ruin my reputation. Holding hands and all that.." she told him as she locked up behind her, max swinging their hands between them happily .

He looked down at her in amusement , smirking. "You're whorish reputation?" He mused , laughing at the look she gave him. Exasperated.

She huffed at him, side eyeing him as they walked down to the restaurant that was around the corner from her apartment where they had agreed to meet their friends.

"Yes actually." She said proudly , not ashamed of her whore era at all. "How am I going to bag a footballer now?" She joked, grinning up at him teasingly.

Max snickered "are they any left? You've already gone through them all haven't you?" He shot back at her with a shit eating grin.

Laughing hysterically when she started hitting him with her clutch bag, cursing him out . Paying no Mind to the looks they were getting as they entered the restaurant, max leading her over to their table while laughing still.

"That's unnecessary! It wasn't that many!" She complained to him. Handing him her clutch bag absentmindedly as she smiled to their friends.

Max took the mini pink bag from her, holding it casually as he pulled out the chair for her . "Just a team or two.." he grinned unable to help himself from winding her up.

She huffed , sliding into her seat carelessly. "Keep trying me max. I will body you." She threatened him , picking up her wine glass that Charles had already ordered her. Taking a big gulp , oblivious to the amused stares they were getting from around the table. Too immersed in their own little bickering bubble to care.

"In bed?" He resorted cheekily , laughing when she just rolled her eyes at him.

Charles looked at her with a small smile, still not used to the sight of the two of them together . Watching the way max passed her a napkin and topped up her wine for her as their food was served.

"Are you coming to qualifying next week?" Charles asked her. The two of them usually travelling together and Cherrie hanging out in the Ferrari garage supporting him.

She glanced over at him apologetically "er- no. I'm gonna hang out with max this time. Cause he's-" she hesitated , glancing over at max who gave her a small encouraging nod. Still not used to calling him

Her boyfriend. Fake or not. "-My boyfriend and I should support him right?" She poked at her plate with a small grimace after taking a few small bites.

Charles frowned at her "and I'm your best friend. You're team Ferrari . Not redbull."

Max smirked at him smugly "actually she is team redbull now seeing as she's dating their driver.

No more red." He proudly stated . Before glancing over at Cherrie when she made another small huff.

"What?" He muttered , raising a brow at her curiously.

She nudged at her plate with a small sigh "I don't like the chicken." She muttered with a subtle pout , glancing over at his steak with hearts in her eyes.

Max frowned back at her , completely exasperated "why did you get it then?!" He countered back. Used to her doing this by now.

Just last night they had gotten a takeaway, a pizza for her and a Chinese noodles for him. He hadn't  even gotten to take a second bite of his food before she was eyeing up his plate with a pout, giving him pleading eyes as she told him that she didn't fancy pizza anymore.

She was an absolute nuisance!

"Because I wanted it when I ordered it but now I don't . Can we swap?" She asked him hopefully, eyeing up his steak, not even bothering to be subtle about it now. She knew that she would get her own way eventually , a few pretty blinks of her lashes at him and he was done for .

Max huffed at her "absolutely not. You've made your bed so lie in it." He told her firmly .

Lando and Charles could only watch in silent disbelief as Cherrie pouted at him, nudging his arm quietly , tilting her head at him prettily, looking at him pleadingly. Going all out with the puppy look towards him, seconds away from whining too.

She had no shame. Especially not where food was involved.

And max caved . Max, who didn't share food.

Max, who had threatened to break lando's fingers the last time he had tried to take a slice of his pizza for himself .

He slid his plate over to Cherrie and swapped their plates with a exasperated sigh, giving her a judgmental side eye as he did so.

"You're so annoying. You need help." He muttered to her before taking a bite of the chicken , watching her happily dig into his steak with a pleased look on her pretty face.

Lando looked over at him in pure disbelief "how come you'll give her your food but not me?" He exclaimed loudly making them both glance over at him with matching , uninterested looks on their faces.

Oh wow. He thought grimacing. They have the matching bitch looks down to a T now. That was scary.

Max just shrugged , hiding his grin behind his fork as he swallowed his bite before answering him. "Because if I don't she'll just take it anyway." Plain and simple .

Cherrie nodded along to his statement proudly , grinning at them slyly. "Yes I would. A good woman takes what she wants, whenever she wants it." She told them seriously , taking lando's glass of wine and sliding it over to herself . Taking no mind of him gasping and trying to take it back from her.

She just pretended she couldn't hear or see him, sipping on it happily.

Max just shook his head at her  "that's a crime. You're a criminal Cher." He laughed, grinning over at her in amusement.

Charles's scowled deepened "Cher?" He muttered , unable to believe that she had gone from being called a bitch by him to a affectionate 'Cher' so quickly.

Max glanced at him with a subtle smirk "yes. Cher. Baby. Love of my life. Fire to my loins-" he started listing off nicknames , Cherrie giggling beside him at the repulsed looks Charles was giving them.

"By the way.. I'm going to Hawaii next week Charles. Can you look after my cat?" She blurted out to him suddenly , recalling her upcoming plans.

Her suitcases were already packed and max had booked their tickets the moment that they had gotten home after she had agreed to play along as his girlfriend. Only things had gotten more serious and real than either of them could have Expected but in a good way.

Cherrie seemed to genuinely forget that they were playing pretend , having been enjoying spending time with max one on one. He was a lot funnier than she gave him credit for when she wasn't so set on picking a fight with him.

Who would have thought that the man that made her scream in fury the most , could also make her laugh like a hyena with his stupid jokes?

"Hawaii? Why? Since when? I thought we were going to Spain for holidays this summer.." he said while looking at her in confusion. Having heard nothing of these sudden plans.

She just shrugged "max is taking me. The pool has a pool ontop of a pool  Charles! A pool with a pool right in front of an ocean view man.." she sighed dreamily , already picturing herself laying in the sun and swimming all day.

Lando looked at max, impressed. "Wow! What's this for... a anniversary? or did you fuck up that bad already that you had no choice but to leave the country?" He joked . Giggling to himself as he looked between the two of them. Not at all surprised by their closeness now that he had time to think it over.

It actually made sense to him he supposed .  He knew that max only wound her up because it was the only way he could think of to get her attention , bypassing hello and going straight to annoying her instead.

But someone that hated someone so much wouldn't look for them in a crowded room and get all pouty when they couldn't find them there.

And if max hated her so much then he wouldn't have spent the last year chasing off any man that even so much as looked twice at her. That wasn't normal for 'enemies'.

And it was the same for Cherrie too. For someone that claimed to hate him so much , she spent a awful lot of time talking about him.And she spent a awful lot of time willingly in his company too.

Considering that Charles was her best friend and not max, she spent more time in the red bull hospitality than she did in Ferrari. Claiming the she was just going to wind max up some more , to 'jinx him' for his race so that he wouldn't win.

But Lando had once seen the two of them having a intense game of Mario kart , bickering at each other, sat thigh to thigh as they carried on like they were the best of friends. They would deny it but Lando had heard them laugh together and make plans for a rematch after the race.

And what kind of people that 'hated' each other played mario kart together willingly?

"Just a holiday. No reason other than Cherrie is starting to disappear into the walls without her tan." Max casually replied, quickly finishing up with his food and picking up the fancy desert menu as he waited for everyone else to be done with their first course meal.

Cherrie nodded along in agreement with a serious look on her face . Swallowing her bite before replying "so fucking true. I was going to put on a white shirt this morning but then I looked into the mirror and could only see my hair. I'm fading away."

Max snorted , chuckling to himself as he shook his head. Grinning at the sigh of misery she let out.

"So sad. Can't think of anything worse than you being pale." He muttered sarcastically, laughing loudly when she reached out and smacked his forearm without even glancing at him. Muscle memory by now .

"Shut up max." Was all she muttered back to him before focusing her attention back to her best friend, shifting in her seat once she finally noticed the contemplative look that he was giving the two of them.

She hated having to lie to Charles, she really did but honestly ... it was a little fun winding up their friends like this. And she was having fun bickering with max without their usual aggressiveness and truthful threats.

When she told max she was going to kill him before, she usually meant it. Now when she told him that, they both knew that she was just joking around. No harm done. Not at all serious with her violent warnings anymore.

It was nice. She kind of wished that max had come up with the idea of being her fake boyfriend before this. It might have been a more easier and less tense few years between the two of them.

"You should hang out with us tomorrow night Charles!" She suddenly suggested , both of their heads snapping towards her with two very different reactions.

Charles was smiling At her, pleased to finally have the chance to hang out with her again after being blown off for max lately . Meanwhile max was looking at her like she has completely lost her mind. Sighing loudly and crossing his arms over his chest like a pissy child that wasn't getting their own way.

"No way." He blurted out just at the same time that Charles replied with a pleased "sure! Sounds good!"

The two of them meeting eyes while Cherrie and Lando just looked between the two of them in vague amusement. Lando looking a little offended as he looked over at Cherrie with a frown "what about me? Can I come?"

Max scoffed "no. Neither of you are coming!"

Cherrie just smiled brightly "of course you can! I'll cook for us!" She exclaimed getting excited at the thought of getting to play around in Max's fancy kitchen.

All three men paused at her words , grimacing deeply as they shared wary looks between each other. Charles clearing his throat and refusing to be the one to tell her that was a bad idea.

Max easily did so, the only one unafraid to look Cherrie in her eyes and tell her straight. "No you're not. You'll put us all in hospital! Remember what happened when you baked us all cupcakes ?" He gave her a pointed look. Cherrie looking away with a stubborn purse of her lips.

"I ended up in a intimate relationship with my toilet Cherrie. So no. You will not be cooking." He sternly told her before adding on a firm "ever again."

Cherrie looked between them with a scowl. "That was baking! Cooking is different! I'm sure that I can handle making a - a chicken-" she tried to defend herself weakly.

Charles scoffed , shaking his Head at her wildly . "Absolutely not! You are not going anywhere near chicken Cherrie! You can kill us! You should not be anywhere near raw meat!" He exclaimed .

Still traumatised from all the others time that she had tried to 'cook' for them. All of them nights ending up with a horrific case of food poisoning that she always denied giving to them.

Max and Cherrie shared a smirk as the same dirty jokes filled their head. Snickering between each other little little kids. Cherrie snorting childishly as she nudged Max's arm repeatedly in a fit of giggles.

"There's some raw meat that I can handle just fine on my own-" she wiggled her eyebrows , still giggling only max was joining her this time. His cheeks flushing red when she winked at him suggestively.

Charles sighed loudly , looking at the two of them with a unimpressed look on his face while Lando cackled beside him.

"Children." He said shaking his head "you're all children."

An hour and a half later and Cherrie and max were saying their goodbyes to Charles and Lando , Cherrie quickly being dragged over to the corner of the exit door by Charles who insisted on speaking to her before they left.

"What's up?" She mumbled to him smiling, cheeks flushed from the endless jokes and wine that they had all shared over dinner.

Charles sighed quietly , looking at her for a moment with a serious look on his face. Enough to sober her up slightly as she realised that he wanted to 'talk', no doubt about her sudden relationship with max.

"What are you doing Cherrie?" Was all he said to her , hands on his hips as he waited for her to answer. Giving her a pointed look. "And don't lie to me. You've spent years denying even liking max as a person, never mind a friend.. and now you two are suddenly in love?" He scoffed, seeing right through her. He was her best friend after all.

Cherrie shifted on her feet, grimacing at the ache in her ankles from the high heels she was wearing. Wishing that she had worn her converse instead.

She looked at Cherrie silently for a moment , trying to gather her thoughts. A month ago and she would have been agreeing with him, happily cursing out max and talking shit about him to all her friends.

But now.. now she had a great night . A great week even. She was happy, she was fed and tired. All she wanted was for max to walk her home like he had been doing lately , wanted to talk to him about everything and nothing underneath the stars before saying goodnight with a warm embrace between them.

Something that max had taken to doing when she had casually told him one night that she wasn't used to easy affection like that. Her own parents had never hugged her after the age of six. And well, it has become the reason why she shied away and cringed from simple affectionate hugs. She simply wasn't used to it.

So max had made it his silent mission to fix that. When he arrived at her door, he greeted her with a smile and a hug. And when they said goodbye , he would pull her to her chest and let her hold onto him for as long as she deemed comfortable before pulling away.

And she was enjoying it. It was nice. Even if max was the same asshole that she had spent the past few years arguing with and getting in to petty fights with.

He was still the same asshole but so was she. She was a little bitch. A big mouthed asshole just like him.

And well, was that so bad? It was pretty fun to have someone you could be a cunt with without having to worry about offending them. The rude , the sarcasm and the insulting jokes just bouncing between the two of them perfectly.

She loved it. So she told Charles just that.

"I think that I've been taking max the wrong way this whole time. All those times that I thought he was insulting  me because he hated me.." she sighed out with a small smile. Clutching onto her clutch and swaying slightly , glancing over her shoulder to see max grabbing something from the waiter after settling their checks.

"I think he was just copying my sense of humour Charles. What do you always jokingly call me when I've done something shocking again?" She looked at him with a raise of her brow, trying to prove a point.

Charles hesitated before sighing in realisation. "I call you a stupid bitch." He muttered, pursing his lips stubbornly when she let out a giggle.

She grinned "exactly. And I find it funny because I call you a dickhead too. And it's no harm right? That's just us being affectionate towards each other. That's our sweetheart or honey." She rambled to him, pulling Max's jacket that he had thrown around her shoulders even closer to her body.

Charles slowly nodded his head, still frowning. "Yeah but-"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "And max does the same thing. That time that I parked my car on golf terf because I thought that was what I should do.. what did he call while laughing?"

"A stupid bitch." He mumbled, looking away from her smug little face. Getting it now.

Cherrie laughed softly , glancing over at max again. Smiling to herself when he looked up and met her eyes, pulling a silly face at her. Then he shot her a middle finger and Cherrie stuck up both of hers at him in retaliation, both of them laughing beneath their breaths.

She looked back at Charles with a quiet sigh "exactly. And I went off on him because I didn't know him then. I thought he was just being mean even thought you called me the exact same thing when you found out what I did. I think I- I think I might have been deliberately taking everything he's said to me the wrong way so that I didn't have to face the truth." She told him quietly , looking down at the floor between them for a moment as she really thought about their past together .

Chewing on the inside of cheek as the lines between covering for max and telling the truth blurred until her honest feelings were spilling from her lips like the red wine she had been drinking all night long .

Charles looked at her curiously "and what's the truth?" He asked her quietly, giving up on being mad at her for keeping something like this from him as soon as he saw her swallow, eyes going glossy as she let out a long , shaky sigh.

A small, pitiful laugh escaping her as she shook her head at herself . "Fucking hell Charles...I like him. I like that asshole. I like his stupid jokes and his sarcasm. I like his bluntness and his lack of filter. I like the way we  both laugh when we watch someone fall over instead of helping them.." she breathed out so in her own thoughts about max that she missed the squint of the eyes Charles gave her as she casually told him that she and max liked to laugh at people getting hurt.

"He- as stupid as it seems- he gets me. He's just as much of a cunt as I am!" She giggled , biting down on her bottom lip to suppress the silly grin that wanted to appear . Snapping out of her tipsy daze and looking back up at her best friend who was now just watching her silently, a look of realisation on his face .

There was a moment of silence between them before Charles slowly nodded his head , coming to a understanding then.

"I suppose I should of expected this really." He sighed, smiling at her as he brought her into a side hug. Seeing the way max kept peering over at them as he waited by the exit doors for them to be done talking.

“I Should have known that he liked you when you lost your phone on that night out . You and max were bickering about how stupidly clumsily you are..you ended up nearly fighting him in the parking lot. It was a pretty nasty fight." He recalled with a small laugh . "And then- then the next day he casually dropped a new phone into your bag alongside some painkillers for that hangover you had." He mused, smiling now. Wondering how he didn't see it sooner.

It was cherries turn to be speechless. Swallowing soundlessly as she glanced over at max who was texting on his phone as he waited for them impatiently . She could almost hear him huff and puff from here.

Then her phone buzzed in her hands and she glanced down at it to see max texting her.

Hurry the fuck up Cherrie! Do I need to remind you that You're wearing a dress?? Ten more minutes and your legs will turn into ice blocks. Do you want to get hypothermia?? Let's goooo!! Now!

She giggled and shut off her phone, a giddy feeling entering her chest as she looked back up into the knowing eyes of her best friend.

"Yeah..he did do that. That's not something someone who hated me would do is it?" It was more spoken to herself than Charles. Realisation hitting her hard.

And as she made a hasty goodbye to her best friend, she hurried back over to max as quickly as she could on her heels. Max rolling his eyes at her as she nearly tripped down the three steps that led to the open street.

Taking ahold of her arm to pull her into his side , wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her as they began their walk back to her apartment.

Huffing at her as he looked down at the sky high heels on her feet . "They make your legs look beautiful but there not good for you. You should keep a spare pair of trainers or flats in my car for next time.." he told her casually , stopping in his tracks for a moment as he slid himself  around to the other side of her body So that he was the one walking on the side of the path closest to the road instead.

Then they continued walking as though nothing had happened . Cherrie leaning her cheek against his arm to hide her smile , sighing contently as she cuddled into his side. Sliding her arm around his own waist and squeezing his hip gently.

"Next time? There's gonna be a next time?" Her voice was quite and surprised.

Max just glanced down at her with a blank look on his face. No expression as he casually answered her (more like informed her) that "yes. There's going to be a lot more ‘next times’ . I liked getting dinner with you and our friends so we're definitely doing this again."

Cherrie just rolled her eyes at him with a snicker. Pinching his waist and making him flinch, shooting her a look to behave.

She pinched him again, laughing when he cursed her name loudly into the almost silent street. Still not removing himself from her side.

"Ok boyfriend. You can put my converse in your car then... maybe some sweatpants too." She mumbled tiredly . Yawning dramatically and missing the way max smiled to himself , his cheeks going pink as she called him her boyfriend so easily.

Neither were very good liars . Their feelings were written all over their flushed faces . It was a good job then that it was too dark to see the love in their eyes as they cuddled all the way home.

The next night and Cherrie let herself into Max's apartment excitedly , kicking off her shoes and hanging up her coat before rushing into the front room and scaring the living shit out of max who hadn't heard her come in.

"Max!" She exclaimed loudly , throwing herself over the back of the couch and landing clumsily by his side as he jumped half a foot into the air.

Gasping loudly in shock as he clutched at his racing heart with his hand, slapping her thigh scoldingly as he looked at her with wide eyes. "Cherrie you can't do that! I almost had a heart attack!" He shouted in shock. Leaning back against the couch with a huff as he tried to calm his poor pounding heart down again.

She just laughed and turned so that she was facing him on the couch. Crossing her legs beneath her with a grin as she held out her hand to him excitedly.

"Look what I found! It's you!" She exclaimed while showing him the toy redbull car that she had bought while getting gum at the local store.

Max glanced between her proud grin and the small toy car, feeling himself soften as he smiled back at her softly. Gently taking the car from her as he looked at it in amusement . "No Ferrari?" He couldn't help but remark. Smirking at her as she got comfortable beside him.

Glancing up at the tv and gasping once she noticed which movie was playing. A smug laugh escaping her as she slapped his arm "you're watching the labyrinth! You told me that you hated it!" She accused him, squinting her eyes at him.

Max pursed his lips, avoiding her knowing gaze. "Yeah well.. I changed my mind. Plus you talk about it so much that I thought I might as well give it a second chance.." he mumbled , fiddling with the toy car in his hands for something to do.

Cherrie smiled, heart melting . "Aw! Look at you- watching something just because I like it!"

He huffed "I didn't do it for you." He stubbornly denied.

She smirked . "Yes you did! I told you last night that the goblin king is the love of my life and now you're watching it! Your competition!" She teased him.

Max side eyed her. Crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. "I thought you didn't believe in falling in love." He threw back at her. Smirking smugly when she fell silent.

Looking at him quietly for a moment before clearing her throat , scratching at her collarbone awkwardly. "That- things change. And I didn't say that I didn't believe in love-"

Max scoffed , shifting on the couch and stretching out his legs so that they encased her body between them. Used the heel of his foot to press into the bottom of her back, pushing her between his legs even further, Without a word even being said.

Cherrie just shuffled over and wrapped her arm around his bent knee. Resting her chin on her arm as she looked at him. Their faces only a hands length away.

"You said that falling in love is for stupid people." He stated matter of factly . Amused as he carefully slid his arms around her lower hips , watching closely for her reaction to his touch.

She just sank into him with a soft sigh, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. Eyes to his neck instead of meeting his own As she mumbled "yeah well- I categorise myself as stupid people sometimes." Quietly. Barely audible if they hadn't had been so close.

Max paused. Eyeing her closely as he felt his heart Jump in his chest. One hand sliding up from her hip to her waist as he gave it a gentle squeeze, never taking his eyes from her pretty face. Inhaling deeply as he watched the way her nose twitched , her eyelashes fluttering as she refused to meet his curious gaze.

"Yeah? You believe in it now?" The hope in his voice sickened him. Yet the way she sheepishly  glanced up to him with a shy smile tugging at her painted red lips had him grinning like a fool.

Maybe he categorised himself as stupid people now too.  Only if she did as well.

She sighed shakily , carefully wrapping her arms around his neck and playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Tugging at it gently between her fingers as Max's eyelids lowered , tilting his head up to her as she knelt up on her knees so that she was above him now.

It gave her the confidence to laugh softly , taking in the way his breathing grew uneven beneath her. His face a permanent shade of red since the moment she had arrived.

She smiled down at him in defeat. "Yeah I do. Some mean little bitch made me fall in love even though I didn't want to. And even though I still want to strangle him sometimes.." she leaned her face down closer to his own so that their noses brushed together gently .

Max let out a soft laugh, their darkened eyes briefly meeting before they fluttered closed again.

"Don't talk about yourself like that." He breathed out teasingly before closing the gap between them and kissing her before she could say something snarky back to him again.

He kissed her like he should have kissed her so long ago. Clinging onto her body as she lowered herself down above him, fingers sliding into his hair to pull his head back as she deepened the kiss. Straddling his hips as he slid his hands up her thighs , taking the soft material of her dress up with his fingers too.

Between hungry kisses, max panted against her mouth breathlessly "you-this isn't fake Cherrie." Needing her to know that this had never been fake to him. Not even for one moment.

Was it a stupid idea to trick her into being his 'fake' girlfriend instead of just finding his balls and asking her out? Maybe a little bit.

But did he really care? No fucking way. Because at the end of the day he had the love of his life straddling his lap with her dress riding up her hips as she kissed him like he was her air, their tongues brushing together messily as she cupped his jaw and scraped her nails against his scalp while she grinded her hips down onto his own.

Max moaning lowly against her swollen lips as she smirked smugly, nudging their noses together as she whispered . "I know max." Her fingers hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt .

Max panted as he followed her rushed movements, quickly pulling her dress up over her head. Eyes wide and lips parted in awe as he gazed down at her body , swallowing thickly as his heart raced in his chest.

"You do? You get it now?" He muttered against her skin as he kissed over her shoulder and down to her chest . Pulling her closer to him till there was no space between them. The toy car falling to the ground as max flipped them over so that her back was against the couch with him hovering over her this time.

Pulling away to breath , he looked down at her with a  affectionate smirk tugging at his swollen and stained red lips. Panting breathlessly as Cherrie looked up at him with a small smile .

"That you like me?"

He huffed out a laugh . That was an understatement.

"That I love you moron. And I want this to be real.

No more play pretend." He corrected her, heart in his mouth as he waited for her reaction to his love.

But Cherrie just smiled and nodded her head casually . Wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him close again, running her fingers through his hair.

"Okay. Sounds good." Was all she muttered. Giggling girlishly at the way Max's eyes went wide , his breathing hitching as he looked down at her in surprise.

"Okay? That easy?" He couldn't believe it. Having expected some bickering or smart ass comments on her behalf.

Instead he was getting soft eyes and an open heart. Max almost wanted to cry when she smiled up at him as though everything was going to okay.

Because it was. Finally.

"That easy." She confirmed kissing him again , smiling against his lips as she murmured. "I love you max. You're such a asshole but you’re my asshole."

Max couldn't have kissed her any harder if he tried. Then his pants went flying over their heads, her bra landing on a lamp in the corner of the room as max showed her just how much he loved her right there on his couch.

Completely forgetting about their guests for the evening who let themselves in after knocking for a while and getting no answer.

Charles Impatiently huffing as he held the bags full of takeout in his hands while Lando held onto a bottle of champagne for them to share.

"What if he's murdered her?" Charles worried after knocking for the fourth time and getting no answer. His protectiveness kicking in full force. Cherrie was his best friend and as much as he could see now that they liked each other. He still didn't trust max in the slightest.

In his head .. no man would ever be good enough for his best friend.

Lando snorted a laugh "don't you mean her killing max? Cherrie is the crazy one." He said while grinning.

Charles frowned over at him "she's not crazy . She's-" he struggled to find the right word for her chaotic behaviour. "She's-creative." He settled with.

Lando giggled at him "yeah . Creative with her threats. Didn't she say she was going to unhinge his jaw if he ever ate her pasta again last month when we were getting lunch at the track?" He reminded him in amusement.

Charles sighed loudly , looking exasperated. "Obviously! It was good pasta and max just ate it all!" He defended her easily . "And anyways- oh my god-" he paused mid sentence as they both froze as they heard noises coming from inside the apartment.

A loud whine and grunting had both Charles and Lando freezing warily, exchanging concerned glances as they then glanced back to the door in front of them.

Another loud scream had Lando worriedly biting his nails . "You don't think they're - you don't think that they are actually killing each other so you? It's sounds like someone's in pain!" He whisper shouted at Charles. Clutching onto his oversized bottle of champagne worriedly.

They heard cursing and then Max's voice grunting "Cherrie-fuck! I'm gonna-" before a woman's cry sounded out through the door.

And automatically Charles thought the worst. Eyes widening as worry shot through him like a sharp arrow to his chest.

"I knew that something was wrong! He's attacking her!" He exclaimed angrily before bursting through Max's door without any hesitation. Ready to rescue his best friend from his evil clutches. Lando quickly scurrying after him .

"Cherrie! Don't worry I'm here to save you-!" He called out loudly as they both came skidding around the hallway corridor and into the front room.

Screeching to a abrupt stop as Lando let out a shriek of horror from beside him as they looked at the scene playing out in front of them.

Both max and Cherrie's head snapping over to them in shock. Naked and tangled around each other , and definitely not fighting .

"Oh my god. You guys are fucking." Charles blurted out in shock. Glancing between the two of them with a sheepish chuckle as the both of them slapped their hands over their eyes quickly.

Lando was gagging frantically beside him "my eyes! My eyes! I've just seen Max's-"

Max huffed loudly as he carefully rolled off of Cherrie , passing her his shirt to throw on as he pulled his boxers back up over his hips. Glaring at the two of them in annoyance .

"What the fuck?! Can't you knock?!" He shouted at them with a scowl as he buttoned his shirt to cover up cherries body. Untucking her messy 'I've just had sex' hair from the collar so that it wouldn't pull at her scalp painfully .

Charles scoffed at him "we did! Like a hundred times! We heard noises and thought someone was in pain!" He defended them loudly .

Lando still moaning like he was scarred for life beside him. Bashing his head against the wall as he tried to get the image of Max's ass and dick from his brain to go away.

Cherrie just giggled as she got off the couch, making sure that the shirt covered everything it needed to before bouncing over to their friends shamelessly, unbothered by being caught mid fuck. It wasn't the first time that this had happened in her life , probably wouldn't be the last either.

"We really need to lock the door behind us next time." Max muttered with a annoyed sigh . Running a hand through his hair that was ticking up in every direction , glancing over at Cherrie and silently admiring the way she looked in his shirt .

"I don't know why you're so pale Charles. You've walked in on me getting railed before." She casually mentioned as she walked into the kitchen to get them large glasses for the champagne that Lando had brought.

Charles scowled at the both of them while Lando collapsed onto the dining table chair, taking deep breaths and unable to look max in his eye now.

Max scowled too at the thought of Cherrie with anybody else , huffing underneath his breath as he snatched the bags of takeaway from Charles hand so that he could plate them up.

"But-but it's max! It's very different! I didn't know all those guys!" He exclaimed. Glaring at max in disgust. "Defiling my best friend! How dare you!"

Max rolled his eyes "shut up. She's fucked around with half of the top favourite footballers and actors.. and singers.. and billionaires and-"

Cherrie frowned over at her now real boyfriend "hey! Do you mind not making me sound like a slut max?"

He just gave her a pointed look. Kissing the side of her head apologetically as he passed her to get the plates.  "Cherrie. I love you so much but- there was about two years of you slutting around. It's nothing to be ashamed of. We all have a past.” He simply replied.

Cherrie pulled a face back at them "I'm not ashamed. I'm proud of myself . It's quite impressive really isn't it? And about three of them wanted to marry me-" she proudly grinned. Reaching up to give max a quick kiss before forcing Charles to sit down at the table, seemingly still frozen in shock by the doorway, still traumatised from what they had walked into.

Max scoffed and pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at her as he slid her plate of food to her first. "The only man you'll be marrying is me." He stated to her casually like it was no big deal.

Charles looked like he was about to have a stroke. While Lando had quickly gotten over his horror as soon as the plate of food was put in front of him.

Glancing up from his plate as he shovelled a spoonful of noodles onto his mouth, looking over at Cherrie curiously. "Cherrie?"

"Yeah?" She slid Charles a extra large glass of champagne. Patting his back encouragingly as he gaped between her and max, still in shock.

"Are your tits real?" He asked her. Genuinely curious .

Max and Charles snapped their heads over to him in disbelief . "Lando!"

Max scowled "that's my girlfriend ! Watch it!"

Cherrie just smiled and nodded her head, completely unbothered as she dug into her food. Max wrapping his hand around the arm of her chair and pulling at it, with her sitting in it calmly, pulling it to be beside him so that they were side by side instead.

"Yeah they are. Nice huh?" She winked at Lando jokingly. Patting Max's thigh when he glared at her, huffing at her in disbelief.

Lando grinned , laughing loudly at the look on Max's face . Enjoying winding him up far too much now.

"Very lovely." He agreed with a grin before motioning between the two of them with his finger. "So.. this is very real then? The two of you?"

Cherrie and max glanced at eachother with knowing smirks, laughing beneath their breaths. She nudged Max's arm gently with her own, max leaning down to give her another kiss. Just because he could now.

And also because he loved seeing the way Charles grimaced at him in disgust . "Best friend stealer." Charles mouthed at him with narrowed eyes. Miming stabbing him with his fork.

Max just snorted and gave him the middle finger.

He grinned "it's always been real. We're in love and this.." he looked down at Cherrie with nothing with love in his eyes. "Is a forever thing. So you might as well get used to seeing me around her now Charles. Because she my best friend now."

And Cherrie had to hold Charles back before he could throw himself across the dining table for that comment.

Giving her smirking , finally real , boyfriend a shake of her head as he continued to wind up Charles for the rest of the night. Deliberately kissing her in front of him and telling Charles that if he was lucky he could be one of her bridesmaids at their future wedding.

And just like that. They were in love. And their friends were traumatised for life.

[antimonyandthyme]

1k; alex/logan; after the australian gp

His phone was clinking incessantly. Very determinedly. Logan dredged up determination in equal counterforce to ignore it.

“Whoever it is,” Alex said, “is being clingier than cling wrap.”

“Not your best,” Logan said.

“Whatever. Why don’t you answer it?”

“It’s probably just Oscar.”

That got him an Oh? Alex shifted, groaning, stretching his arms out in a way that was not meant to be sexy at all, but somehow still painfully was. Logan stared down at the wrinkled sheets instead. He was shaky all over, but kept himself still. “What does he want?”

“To check on me, probably.”

“Good friend,” Alex said. His tone landed somewhere in the middle of a chromatic scale, careful, but not too wary, interested, but not too concerned.

I don’t know about you and George, but me and Oscar, we get along just—

It was too early to be this petty. “Yeah,” he said, and left it at that.

Except Alex had a bone to chew. His not-quite smile was sharp, his eyes a little too assessing. Logan supposed the morning-after spiral presented itself differently in everybody.

“What will you tell him?”

“That I spent the night fucking my teammate,” Logan said.

Alex pulled back, like that scalded. Okay, ouch.

Logan sighed. Oscar always said there was no point wielding a knife if he was going to feel bad about it, less than a second after. It was a habit he couldn’t rid himself of.

“Of course I’m not saying that. Just—that I’m sleeping in. Or something else believable. I’m not an idiot.”

“Didn’t say you were.” Alex ran his fingers through his hair, which barely served to dissuade any unruliness. He looked so rumpled it was almost endearing. Logan had the maddening urge to smooth him down, act as sandpaper to Alex’s edges. “Sorry. I’m not being. I’m not—”

“You’re being an ass,” Logan said flatly. “Can you have your freakout later? After we’ve showered, at least?”

Of all things. Alex’s smile softened, turned a little more real. “So you admit it.”

“Admit what.”

“You are mad at me.”

I’m not mad, Logan had said last night, when Alex showed up with a bottle of conciliatory wine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck, so unusually uncertain of himself that Logan felt the inane need to comfort him. Alex, I promise I’m not. Here, to prove how not mad I am, let’s finish this bottle together. See?

“I’m—” He shut his mouth. There were very few pretenses here. Eyes red-rimmed and bodies tender in the most intimate of places, sheets still faintly damp. “I’m being childish.”

“You’re not being childish,” Alex said shortly. “Something got taken away from you, and for what?”

Logan shrugged. It wasn’t Alex’s fault, that much was certain. But the taste on his tongue soured past morning staleness when he thought of James. “It was for the team.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Get out of here with that bullshit.”

“I should have crashed my car, like Max suggested.”

“That’s more like it.” Even the flyaway strands in Alex’s hair appeared delighted now. “Let it all out.”

The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched up. “What are you trying to encourage? Our own multi two-one?”

Alex scoffed. “When Williams makes better cars, maybe.”

It sounded impossible, even as people who had the patience to recognize dreams took what felt like eons to manifest. And anyway, Alex wasn’t the person he’d endure a silver war with. Logan’s phone was still making glass-shattering noises.

“You should reply.” Alex relaxed back into bed. They were both equally grateful for the distraction from their futures’ uncertainties. “Way it sounds, he’s about to have a conniption.”

Logan could picture it, Oscar’s not-anxious-anxious face, the line of his mouth flattening impossibly further the longer it took to get a response.

sorry, shit signal last night

Mate, the response was instant and borderline angry. Where are you?

in bed

Not technically a lie.

hungover

Ok, Oscar said. You good?

Was he? Alex was looking at him, expression threaded with amusement and an understanding reserved for teammates who only knew how to take things from each other. The night could’ve been worse spent. Alex’s mouth, hot against his, and his calloused hand, rough against his sensitive, greedy cock, was welcome enough to push James’ sympathetic face out of his head for a decent enough time.

i’m good. thanks. appreciate you asking osc

“You’re awfully polite for an American.”

“Fuck off,” Logan said.

There was another unopened text that surely Alex had caught a glimpse of as well. Logan tossed the phone aside. His lips found the underside of Alex’s jaw. Alex’s groan was exceedingly nice to listen to. The stutter in his hips, the surprised gasp he released, as Logan worked his way downward, was even more rewarding.

Later, showering—

“I’ll say no, the next time.”

Alex was playing with the suds in Logan’s hair, making snowmen that stuck out like lumpy marshmallows. The shower in the hotel room, like all showers in hotel rooms tend to be, had misty glass enclosure walls. Logan checked their reflections out in the mirror. They looked presentable, pressed up against each other. Friendly, like all good teammates should be.

“Good, good,” Alex said absently. He continued massaging Logan’s hair.

There was a small flicker of irritation. “I’m being serious.”

“I know you are,” Alex said. He smoothed the shampoo down, palm slick and comfortable, then scratched his fingers gently against Logan’s scalp. “You’re allowed, of course. To say no.”

You’re allowed, Logan heard in the silence that followed, to see where that takes you.

Coming from Alex, it didn’t sound that patronizing. More generous, really. Encouraging. Maybe they would have their own multi two-one, after all.

The text: Logan, I’d like to discuss some things with you today, if you have time.

Impossible, aggravating. James hardly needed to ask for Logan’s time. It was already his.

Logan leaned his head back, snug against Alex’s collarbone. The spray was pleasant, going around his eyes, courtesy of the shield Alex’s back provided. It was warm.

He thought about what to say.

[mur-art]

A Calivada Essay in Song Lyrics

Lowkey inspired by @sleepdeprivedsimp234's song lyrics posts I decided to let my instincts win and put together a post full of song lyrics that are Calivada-coded to me. (Since the latest episode got me fully back on my Calivada bullshit. You could say they took a high-speed rail straight into my heart. )

The songs are roughly in order with how I picture the progression of their relationship. It starts with the early days of the Gold and Silver rushes and the Wild West, marked with periods of stormy and reckless whirlwind romance. Then it progresses into the early 20th century, with them growing apart, and yet together: Nevada finding his identity in casinos and sin, and California giving into the hedonism of Hollywood. Somewhere along the line, they became on-and-off again FWB, coming together when they're drunk, or lonely, or hopeless... or all of the above, locked in a frankly toxic and tumultuous co-dependent relationship. Not quite enemies, not quite lovers, definitely not friends... (or so they'll say).

Just... them. Anyway...

A bunch of these have been compiled from suggestions from various people over the past year-ish and some are just my shitty millennial taste in mid-2000s pop rock.

Link to actual playlist here

PART 1: "We're meant to be together like silver and gold"

California and Nevada meet for the first time. There's an immediate attraction to each other-- is it really love or is it simply a lust for the sparkle of silver and gold? Either way, it's a force of nature when they come together.

Silver and Gold- Parade of Lights (Cali's perspective)

Can you let me in if I take you home? / I'm never giving up 'cause I can't let go / I feel it in the air, feel it in my bones / We're meant to be together like silver and gold

Silver Stallion- The Highwaymen (Cali's perspective)

I'm gonna find me a reckless woman / Razor blades and dice in her eyes / Just a touch of sadness in her fingers / Thunder and lightning in her thighs

And we're gonna ride / We're gonna ride / Ride like the one eyed jack of diamonds with the devil close behind / We're gonna ride

Reckless Love- Bleachers (Nevada's perspective)

So give me a chance to remember / What I've given up to defend ya / I would burn my dreams away / Just to stand in the thankless shadows of your reckless love

gold rush- Taylor Swift (Nevada's perspective)

What must it be like / To grow up that beautiful? / With your hair falling into place like dominos / I see me padding 'cross your wooden floors / With my [49ers] t-shirt hanging from the door / At dinner parties / I call you out on your contrarian shit / And the coastal town We wandered 'round had never / Seen a love as pure as it / And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea / 'Cause you know it could never be

Stardust- MIKA (Nevada's perspective)

I could put a little stardust in your eyes / Put a little sunshine in your life / Give me a little hope that you'll feel the same And I wanna know if I'll see you again / See you again Funny how the time is rushing by / And all the little things we leave behind / But even then, in everything I do / Is a little bit of me, a little bit of you / When will I see you again?

Addict- Silva Hound (I think this is from Hazbin Hotel lmao) (Nevada's perspective)

So what if I misbehave? It's what everybody craves / You already know / So come if you're feeling brave / And fancy yourself a mate

You want it, I got it, see what you like? / We could have it all by the end of the night / Your money and power, my sinful delight / A hit of that heaven and hell, a hell of a high

PART 2: "We are brief summer lightning (we are sparks that spiral upwards in the darkness in the night)"

As they spend more time together, their affection for each other grows. They'll deny that they were ever in love, but the history between them doesn't lie.

Wild as You- Cody Johnson (Cali's perspective)

You're like wakin' in the morning by a mountain stream / You're like watchin' an eagle floating on the breeze / And as I listen to you dreaming by my side / I wish I could call you mine

But you belong where the four winds blow / Out where the untamed mustang roam / Like a sweet summer rain passin' through / Never seen anything wild as you

Hymn for the Weekend- Coldplay (Cali's perspective)

Oh, angel sent from up above / You know you make my world light up / When I was down, when I was hurt / You came to lift me up / Life is a drink and love's a drug / Oh, now I think I must be miles up / When I was a river, dried up / You came to rain a flood

Summer Lightning- Garnet Rogers (Nevada's perspective)

We are brief as summer lightning / We are swift as swallow's flight // We are sparks that spiral upward in the darkness in the night / We are frost upon a window / We won't pass this way again / In the end only love remains

Peaceful Easy Feeling- The Eagles (Cali's perspective)

I like the way your sparkling earrings lay against your skin so brown / I wanna sleep with you in the desert tonight / With a billion stars all around

Death Valley Queen- Flogging Molly (Nevada's perspective)

Death valley queen where have you been? / Since they crowned you in glory / Filled your head with dreams / But it still goes to show in every desert / There's a rose that's bloomin' for all to be seen

House of Memories- Panic! At the Disco (Nevada's perspective)

Those thoughts of past lovers, they'll always haunt me / I wish I could believe you'd never wrong me / Then will you remember me in the same way as I remember you?

Baby, we built this house on memories / Take my picture now, shake it 'til you see it / And when your fantasies become your legacy Promise me a place / In your house of memories

Joy Ride- The Killers

(I showed enough restraint to wait until ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE to include a Killers song. Y'all should be proud /s )

It's gettin' close to sundown over the Sierra / Stranded on the heatwave, burnin' with desire / She was on the sidewalk, looking for a nightlife / We talked about the real things and drove into the fire

Headlights on the highway, the desert wind is howlin' / Rattlesnakes and romance are spillin' with the rain / Candy apple red dress, bleedin' when she kissed me / Heaven a ragtop, take away my pain

PART 3: "Just call me angel of the morning, angel..."

The relationship has lost its initial shine and turned tumultuous. Difference in personality emerge and disagreements become common. And yet, they still can't keep their hands off each other... maybe they both like the drama. They are both performers, after all...

The Way it Was- The Killers (Nevada's perspective)

I drove through the desert last night / I carried the weight of our last fight / Elvis singing "don't be cruel" / And I wonder if you feel it too / It's like we're going under

Somewhere outside the lonely Esmeralda county line / The question of my heart came to my mind

If I go on with you by my side / Can it be the way it was when we met? / Did you forget all about those golden nights?

Bend and Break- FM-84 feat. Ollie Wride (Cali's perspective)

Leave your reason at the door / 'Cause the writing's on the wall / The sunshine's gone / Maybe it's too soon to call / But we've both been here before , so I'm waiting on

No our music it ain't done, 'cause I found our revelry / In the highways and the dancehalls that filled our history

Angel of the Morning- Juice Newton (Nevada's perspective)

There'll be no strings to bind your hands / Not if my love can't bind your heart / There's no need to take a stand / For it was I who chose to start / I see no need to take me home / I'm old enough to face the dawn

Just call me angel of the morning, angel / Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby / Just call me angel of the morning, angel / Then slowly turn away from me

Body- Jordan Suaste (1st part- Cali's perspective; 2nd part- Nevada's perspective)

Body, let me see your body / Take off all your makeup and your clothes / Trust me, why don't you just trust me? / You're the only beauty, show me more

You're not a dime a dozen / Oh, your skin is golden / Let me show the whole damn world / You're one in a billion / The only thing you're missin' / Is some tape over that mouth

BABY SAID- Maneskin (Cali's perspective; Nevada is "baby")

Baby said "When you're talking, I go dead" "Shut your mouth, give me your head" (uh-uh-uh-uh) I know you really want to Baby said "Let me taste your silhouette" "You can talk between my legs" (uh-uh-uh-uh) I know you really want to

Faithless- The Airborne Toxic Event (Cali's perspective)

I wake up early my head ain't right / It's the fever dream of what we did last night / I flex my fingers and feel my age / Fifteen minutes till we take the stage / And I call you when I wake up drunk / My arms are cold and my head is sunk / They say the lights go up at ten PM / Just make sure you're okay by then

Neon Medusa- The Midnight (Either one tbh)

It's a highway, highway to the dark / And a neon medusa's got your heart / Sweet canyon lullabies, don't look straight into its eyes

Alone Together- Fall Out Boy (Both)

Cut me off, I lost my track / It's not my fault, I'm a maniac / It's not funny anymore, no it's not / My heart is like a stallion / They love it more when it's broken / Do you wanna feel beautiful, do you wanna? / I'm outside the door, invite me in / So we can go back and play pretend

and also

This is the road to ruin, and we're starting at the end

PART 4: "I only love you when I'm drunk"

Fast-forward to today (well, the past few decades, really), and they're THOSE TWO drama-Filled Frenemies With Benefits (although the benefits are debatable at this point).

Jilted Lovers and Broken Hearts- The Killers (Nevada's perspective)

Why did you roll your dice, show your cards? / Jilted lovers and broken hearts / You're out on the wind and I'm still waiting to be found

Yeah, will I ever win? / Only time will tell / You've gotta suffer to remember how well / That our ideals never really marched in time / That's the bottom line / Jilted lovers and broken hearts

Getting Even- White Lies (Cali's perspective)

If you're getting even, you're getting even / Trying to get even, better start believing / I can forgive and we can forget / Even after all this wrestling of conscience / I can forgive and we can forget / Even after all this love and other nonsense

Love You When I'm Drunk- MIKA (Both)

Don't get me wrong, last night I didn't change my mind / It was the drink, it was leaving me blind / And when I kissed you, it was such a big mistake / A couple drinks, that's the chance that I take

We All Get Lonely- The Wrecks feat. TOMI (Nevada's perspective)

You're so in love with self-destruction / You're bringing me down

Why'd you come over? / Are you sober? / Are you playing around?

You touch me gently / But it's empty / You should figure it out

Don't say, say you love me, need me / Until you've had your fun / Use me when you get lonely / We all get lonely / You're not the only one

FUCK ABOUT IT- Waterparks (Nevada's perspective)

I like you but I need some space / I like you kinda far away / It's not hard to kill a day lookin' at your face / I like you but I need some room / Been givin' me your attitude / It doesn't always stay that way / I hate the aftertaste

Ancient History- Set it Off (Both)

Damn, pick up the phone, I know I'm drunk again / And you, know my intentions 'cause it's two a.m. / It's fun and games until we both get hurt / We play with fire 'cause we like the way it burns / No use in patching up a sinking ship / This is the last time we do this, baby / This is the last time you taste my lips

I know, I know how to drive you wild / You know, you know how to make me smile / But I need you to be / My ancient history

I know, I know who you really are / You know, you know how to break my heart / But I need you to be / My ancient history

Walk Me Home- P!nk (California's perspective-- despite everything that's happened between them, he still goes to Nevada when he's hurt and lonely)

Walk me home in the dead of night / I can't be alone with all that's on my mind / So say you'll stay with me tonight / 'Cause there's so much wrong going on outside

Till It Shines- Bob Seger (Nevada's perspective; reflecting on California's loneliness)

Storm the walls around this prison / Leave the inmates, free the guards / Deal me up another future / From some brand new deck of cards

Take the chip off of my shoulder / Smooth out all the lines / Take me out among the rustling pines / 'Til it shines / Oh 'til it shines

Like an echo down a canyon / Never coming back as clear / Lately I just judge the distance / Not the words I hear

and this part:

See the rich man lost and lonely / Watch him as he dines / Sitting there just testing all the wines / 'Til it shines

AND OF COURSE...

Waking Up in Vegas- Katy Perry

I think this one speaks for itself, BUT...

Spare me your freakin' dirty looks / Now don't blame me / You want to cash out / And get the hell outta town / Don't be a baby / Remember what you told me

Shut up and put your money where your mouth is / That's what you get for waking up in Vegas / Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now / That's what you get for waking up in Vegas

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

back at it again with my bullshit, i got a lot of misc stuff so it will be listed since not everything can be segued from one topic to the other, but in other news finally beat RD woo only took me nearly 60 hours to beat it on the easiest difficulty, but anyways au time: 1. retracting a previous statement now Kilvas is still dealing with the blood pact with Begnion however it gets resolved during the events of this au's PoR instead of RD, unfortunately Lekain learned from the mistake of leaving the parchment behind and will not be making such a mistake again and is going to be making that everybody else's problem 2. while Naesala is now the main lord instead of Ike, i do want to point out that Pelleas is the new lord of RD instead of Micaiah (blue hair, royalty(kind of), and dead parents fits the bill of typical FE lord just like the bird man, also i just think he's neat) 3. vaguely relating to the last point is that for canon characters, this doesn't apply to ocs since duh, the classes remain the same with little exceptions, only exception i know of at the moment is Pelleas who now has some sort of unique class promotion change to let him use swords because i want him to use Gurgurant damnit 4. seeing as Ike isn't lord, and Naesala doesn't use a sword for obvious reasons, Pelleas might be the one to do the finishing blow on Ashera using Gurgurant 5. im realizing a lot of the ocs im making for this au are related to canon characters in some way(Beauregard being Oliver's son, Sapphire being Seeker's niece, Izumi being Izuka's sister, Maude being the mother of Marcia and Makalov, the list goes on) but not every oc i make is gonna be related to an existing guy (i do have a handful for examples it's just that none of them are named right now, whoops) 6. the army split in this au's RD portion is different then it is in canon, while in canon it was the Silver Army(led by Micaiah), the Greil Army(led by Ike), and the Hawk Army(led by Tibarn) for this au it is instead the Daein Army(led by Pelleas), the Raven Army(led by Naesala), and the Queen's Army(led by Elincia) 7. there are so many things in RD that i am expanding upon, most notably the Crimean civil war bit for several reasons(more dudes in the rebellion, Ludveck died back in PoR and his death was the domino effect to lead to this, several units who were recruitable in this au's PoR are no longer recruitable due to being enemy units here(mostly ocs but still), and the most major issue being the Greil Mercenaries would not show up to help(they're busy with other things)) 8. this is getting long so i'll have this be the last thing for this time, first off Pelleas still signed a blood pact so Daein is still forced to fight the Laguz Emancipation Army, secondly the armies fighting each other before obv joining to fight Ashera later in the RD portion are a bit more evenly matched, because Begnion sent Daein some extra (and expendable in the senate's eyes) soldiers for back up: the Greil Mercenaries -🐦‍⬛naesala lord anon🐦‍⬛

.

[livvyofthelake]

for the purposes of my sanity i’m not including terry silver in this list. we’ve been there we’ve talked we’ve been silly we’ve been serious i can’t keep talking about the karate kid 3 at this point in my life… peace on earth

21) coming in dead last. sam. they would never let her live her truth her ass is neverrrr getting out… she’s the male writers dream girl from high school she’s not allowed to be anything else it’s tragic she’s doomed :(

20) daniel. 80s male protagonist now being written by dudes who grew up in the 80s.

19 johnny. i don’t need to explain

18) demetri. the writers loser self insert with a hot girlfriend

17) miguel. protagonist syndrome. cursed doomed etc. less serious than previously mentioned characters because he’s just a little guy

16) stingray. i could maybe see it happening. in the dark timeline

15) chris. the thing about chris is that yeah he COULD be gay. but he’s not an important enough character for it to be a thing.

pause i need to have a tangent. so shows like cobra kai have what i call Coupling Up Syndrome, where in the endgame, every character needs to be paired up romantically except like. the more minor level characters. and cobra kai is an interesting case of coupling up syndrome already because before they were close to the endgame, they were already suffering from it with the way each character had to have a rivalry. sam and tory, daniel and johnny, even those little 13 year olds. you remember the season 2 finale everybody was paired off in a rivalry. so we can all assume that cobra kai’s endgame coupling up syndrome is gonna be rigid as fuck. but i don’t think the minor level characters like chris will be included in it i think they’re on their own

14) assface. sorry i don’t know his real name. i DO know “but sensei assface has been loyal to the dojo!” sorry again to that boy. again much like chris he’s not import enough. but he ranks higher just because i remember in season 3 he was obsesseddddd with eli…

tangent. chris and assface could in theory go gay with each other in the way that. oh my god i’m sorry for what i’m about to say but you have to understand it’s the only thing i CAN say here. you know how in harry potter draco has those two sidekick bitches. and in fanfic people like to make those two guys gay. do not ask me why i know that. anyway i could potentially see that happening but i don’t think we’re in the right timeline

13) tory. they would never make her a lesbian or let her be in a relationship with a girl but i do believe there could have been a possibility of her being bisexual for the male gaze. but again i don’t think we’re in the right timeline

12) anthony. in my head there’s a vision of this happening and it sucks. i don’t think it’s likely though because he’s still a larusso and they’re cursed and doomed etc

11) robby. same deal as sam et al but he’s made it halfway up the list because tanner buchanan looks like That (doc martens wearer) and he gives ally/potential bisexual way more than any other cast member (mary excluded) and i know he knows i know this. he plays robby in a little bit of a gay way is what i mean. for us.

10) kumiko. it’s entirely possible to have a reveal that she has a wife or something. like a little cameo moment. she’s only at 10 though because i fear that if they brought her back it would be to be chozen’s love interest or some bullshit

9) amanda. there could easily be a reveal that she dated a girl back in college. EASILY. the people would not even bat an EYE

8) yasmine. she could make out with a girl at a party for the male gaze. i can see that happening in the version of this show that still had her in it. yay for annalisa cochrane for getting a career outside this show! baby someday i’m gonna finish watching that stupid fuckass one of us is lying show. i will do it for you baby even though that book sucked. addy my friend addy NEVER sucked <3

7) eli. hear me out. let me speak! ok. so i’ve said previously that if EYE (a smart human being) was writing this show and i wanted to pick a character to go gay. the easiest option is eli. and here’s why. first of all, as stated earlier, we have the coupling up syndrome to contend with. you might assume i’m suggesting another character would need to go gay along with him so the couplings could remain intact. not necessary! eli JUST makes the cut for characters important enough to be gay (which is in itself another reason why it’d be so easy. he’s not too important but also not too insignificant… we’re riding the sweet spot here between the conservative fanbase and the gay people online) so he’s JUST important enough to bring on a Random Guy Love Interest to ride his coattails all season. this happens on tv all the time, a character has a love interest outside the main bubble of the show and the random guy never has enough to stand on their own merit so they have to be attached to a character with just enough importance that they can essentially just be their shadow and ride the wave of their story arc. think clay riverdale. you’ve got it. and eli would also be the smart choice because you wouldn’t have to worry about his ex gf. because she’s already dumped him before and already has another fallback love interest. hence the coupling up remains intact. all i’m saying is that eli would be the smart move. it’s not going to happen due to the everything and jacob bertrand is Like That and also it would piss off literally everyone who watches this show except maybe me. but i’m saying in theory it’s the smart move and it’s what i would do if it were up to me. which it’s not. so it’s not happening. but it could in theory, because it’s the smart way to go about this. if it happens i’ll pass away though. i don’t think it’s likely. but the odds are never ever ever zero remember that

6) kenny. it could work. no i’m serious this could work you just have to trust me idk

5) kreese. ranks high because writers who hate gay people loveeee to queer code villains. they love it it’s like heroin to them and terminally online gay fandom freaks haven’t called them out for this shit since 2016 so they know they’ll get away with it

4) carmen. bi era in a flashback for the male gaze. this happening is not only entirely plausible but also a genuine fear of mine.

3) chozen. re: coupling up syndrome. there are literally two ways that goes for him. a) kumiko. whatever. b) gay arc. i’m being serious

2) devon. the only reason i’m wary about this is because she’s not important enough to have a gay arc. but i truly believe she could just be gay without Having A Gay Arc. you know? offhand reference to her ex girlfriend. holds hands with another girl at the karate tournament. the star wars lesbians shit. live slug reaction we all saw the meme. it’s gonna be live johnny lawrence reaction. i can envision it in my minds eye so clearly. devon is the lesbian horse i am betting on in the cobra kai gay race.

1) first place. and this is IF they ever brought her back which i don’t even think they will but just in case. aisha. i don’t have to explain anything. she can be devon’s girlfriend

cobra kai characters ranked by how likely they are to succumb to the 2024 established characters going gay phenomenon. a post i could theoretically make

[riisinaakka]

~I’ll Make A Man Out Of You ~

Hey hey hey!! I was listening to some metal covers on YouTube the other day and since this singer happened to look like a non-curly version of Silver I jumped into the idea :D

So imagine Long John Silver singing this [“I’ll Make a Man Out of You“ (from Mulan) but it’s A METAL COVER by Dan Vasc] while "training" the troops in Black Sails s3-s4. So basically he’s just repeating what Flint, DeGroot, Billy, Anne or whoever actually knows what they are doing is instructing... and all the crews are really loving his way of telling things, so they gladly listen to him, lol. At the same time he’s taking a crash course in how to be a leader.

And if you want to add some sad meta stuff? Silver is building “A Man” out of himself too, instead of “just” being seen as a creature / cripple, a coward, a-not-joiner, a thief and so on, because he cannot be seen weak in front of the men anymore and now has to step up to play the part of the Pirate King... so it’s also a pep talk to himself.

OR! Imagine Flint singing the song (mentally in his mind if not aloud) while training Silver “to fight and not die”:

“Once you find your center / You are sure to win” 

*cut to Flint playfully knocking out the new crutch a few times so Silver can start getting used to fighting with it and find balance* Add some training montage on the cliffs and admiring smiles and glances! “Let’s get down to business!”  ;)

“You’re the saddest bunch [of lies] I ever met / But you can bet before we’re through / Mister, I’ll make a man King out of you”

Or just generally imagine Flint singing another cover version of the song (one fitting his vocals better?). Maybe already in s1 or s2 with his twirly mustache, sweaty ponytail and unhinged anger! >:D The song fits well his rousing speeches and him being better at everything than everybody else (and showing it too, lol) while promising to make them the princes men of the New World (and training them to fight against the civilization that is coming).

OR! (a long shot into the dark but I thought I would share it anyway...) somehow connect some later verses with Silver’s plan of returning Flint into “a mortal man” instead of the legend / god-like status of his name if you want to exaggerate or bring some fantasy elements in there... (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)

I don’t know how to put all these swirling thoughts into words properly... but first he’s singing about how Flint must be all the Forces of Nature (hello superstitious Silver! and hello James holding on to the part of being Flint even if it’s destroying him because he feels like he has to!).

Then Silver could be sort of singing how to bring “Captain Flint” down, make him walk away from the war and live, crying out the verse “How could can I make a man McGraw out of you?~“ before finding one solution and reuniting him with his old love... reorienting him to the daylight and to the man he once was, so to speak.

Too much? Oops! (ʘ‿ʘ✿) Back to the lighter stuff:

* * * * * * * *

The other voices on the song can be:

“I'm never gonna catch my breath” - (DeGroot, grumpily)

“Say goodbye to those who knew me“ - (Vane, that growl! xD)

“Boy, was I a fool in school for cutting gym“ - (Rackham or Featherstone)

“This guy's got 'em scared to death“ - (Billy, pleased with his plan but not yet knowing how majorly he just fucked up)

“Hope he doesn't see right through me“ - (Max or Eleanor)

“Now I really wish that I knew how to swim” - (Rackham, watching how Anne leaves to do some watery guerilla stuff while he stays on the ship, alone ;_; )

* * * * * * * *

Plus, I find that “Be A Man” choir in the background hilarious (in a good way). Imagine the training montage with the crews and especially Teach looking so stern and trying to drill those macho ideals in them because “it’s the only way to be a proper pirate” or something pfffft.

Also imagine the bonding and tentative friendships with the pirates and the Maroons if they have some joint exercises. Some levity to the grim reality of the upcoming war, let’s have some shenanigans!

Anyway, the point was, imagine Silver having to adapt and play the part of the Pirate King and it somehow manifests as singing metal* and rousing the people that way! >:D

(ﾉ>｡<)ﾉ ♩✧♪●♩○♬☆ヽ(≧▽≦)ﾉ  (*and disney songs, lol)

You / We must be swift as a coursing river With all the force of a great typhoon With all the strength of a raging fire Mysterious as the dark side of the moon ~

Time is racing toward us till the Huns Brits* arrive    (*and Spain) Heed my every order and you might survive You're unsuited for the rage of war So pack up, go home you're through How could I make a man out of you?

* * * * * *

Lastly, maybe he gets swept by the high energy and the power of darkness the more he gets into doing it and ends up even enjoying himself sometimes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Oooh, also don’t forget that the music would be played with hurdy-gurdies, clacking bones, broken pianos and such! 8D 

So yeah, some various thoughts happened *dumps these gleefully on your dash and continues enjoying the song * ☆ﾟ°˖* ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Here’s a quick bonus edit for the mood:

[gukyi]

love me or we both go down | kth

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

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

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

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

Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doors open. 

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

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

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

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

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

There can be no sneering here. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, finally.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the place is nice, right?”

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

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

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

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

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 

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

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

“I mean…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You resist the urge to scoff. 

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

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

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

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

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, a camera flashes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts. 

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

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

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

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

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

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

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

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

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

She hangs up. 

Well. 

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

At least the feeling is mutual. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 

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

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

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 

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

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

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

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

Fair enough. 

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

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

“Deal.”

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

Like right now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you respond. 

“You look nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just life. 

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

And that makes you happy. 

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fall asleep instantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He wasn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” he says, a moment too late. 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin. 

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

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

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

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

“That sounds nice,” you force out. 

“Okay. Your usual?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him skeptically. 

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s your husband.

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

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

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

Tomorrow will be better.

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s an art studio. 

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

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

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

Who knew he loved it so much? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

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

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

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

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

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

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

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 

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

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

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

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

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

But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 

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

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

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

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

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

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

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bingo.”

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

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

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 

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

“A museum curator.”

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

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

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

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

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 

“Bathroom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

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

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

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

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

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 

Taehyung grins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

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

“About what?”

“Anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

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

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

Of him saying—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And closer. 

And a little closer. 

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

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Us.”

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

And he understands that now, things are different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something that makes you want more. 

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

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

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

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

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

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

“Tell me something,” he demands. 

“What?” 

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

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

It’s enough for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Open up for me," he orders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck's sake."

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

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

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

You both are. 

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

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

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 

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

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

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

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

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

You want him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

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

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

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

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

A late morning call, then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 

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

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

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

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

Well, that makes two of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you even called your parents?” 

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

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

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

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

And then there is nothing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

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

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

You peer over. 

It’s Taehyung. 

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

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

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

Oh, God.

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

“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 

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

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 

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

So why not lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why would he lie? 

Why would he do that?

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

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

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

Does he really love you back?

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

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

Or so he thinks. 

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

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

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

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

And there he is. 

“Wait! Taehyung!”

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

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

You know that everything will be okay. 

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

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

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 

But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 

The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 

“I missed this,” you say softly. 

“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”

“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 

“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”

“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 

“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”

“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”

You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 

“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”

“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”

“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 

You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 

Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 

It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 

There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.

The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.

Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.

Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?

It makes it all worth it.

"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.

You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 

Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.

"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 

"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 

"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.

"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.

"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."

"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.

You giggle.

It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 

"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."

“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 

"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."

God, you love this man.

You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 

"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.

Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.

"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.

Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.

Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?

Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.

"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.

"Yes, please."

The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.

Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.

You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.

"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.

You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.

Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.

He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.

"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.

His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.

His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.

“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.

Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.

“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman

Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.

“Taehyung?”

You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.

Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.

“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.

You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 

“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.

He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.

Faintly, you realize. 

That was the first time you had ever told him that.

You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was. 

don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!

[wildrbst]

So based on mob psycho and my hero, can you draw Reigen as a Pro hero teacher at Yuuei please? You can design what his hero identity would be.

Ok this request was really hard for me because I'm terrible when it comes to making stories.

I think Reigen would either have a very weak/useless quirk (like changing his hair color) or he would be quirkless.

You can probably guess what these two are saying. Sorry. I got lazy :")

Now watch me try to write him a backstory at 1am ;) (but to be honest, it wouldn't be much better if i had written this at 10 am lol)

Let's go with quirkless because angst n plot! Also it just fits better, i think.

He has been lying to everybody that he has a quirk since middle school. A quirk like Silver tongue would be fitting but make people more wary of him, so he convinced people he has something else, sth cool. He can probably do all types of magic tricks n then said that's his quirk. When he started Spirits and Such, he obviously also started lying to everybody that he has a sort of psychic quirk. (Imagine if he meets somebody from school and now has to convince them that his quirk has changed or he was hiding his "real" quirk because his psychic ability was so powerful that would have been too dangerous for himself to reveal it. What if he had gotten kidnapped by villains!?)

So all the stuffs from MP100 still happened with little changes. Because power exists, why not ghosts? And power specifically linked to ghosts? Or quirks that is similar to psychic abilities. Or maybe quirks are actually a result of some supernatural incident, pretty sure quirks just kinda appeared one day in mha so that should works.

Now how did he got into all this anyways? I think it started out as self defense, the places he frequents and the people he deals with tend to be a bit shady after all. Then it became dealing with small criminals like purse snatchers or bullies. He uses his words most of the time and only use violence as a last resort. (Because he isn't THAT good at fighting) Everything was going fine for a while, people even gave him gifts to show their gratitude, but one time he unknowingly threw somebody from a small gang in jail. The gang confronted him. He probably bullshitted his way out of it but that was a close call. (He started training seriously after that, mostly still for self-defense) He really should hide his identity whenever he decide to play hero, but it's not like he can plan when he stumble across a mugging... He decided just change his tie and wear a mask lol

And it actually worked!

That's how he unintentionally became the local vigilante.

(Ok kinda random, and idk if it works well or not since i last watched mp100 a year ago, but at first Reigen just says whatever put him in the best situation, he only thinks about himself. After he met mob though, an increasing number of his confrontations became counseling sections.)

Ok so like i said, all the stuffs form mp100 still happened, with little change. And that was what thrusted him into the spot light.

But when exactly? How? Also why haven't the police caught him? While it's technically not illegal because he is quirkless, the police don't know that (yet). I couldn't come up with anything so naturally i turned to fanfics for inspiration. And Balanced at the hilt works really really well. Just copy paste it here, it's exactly what i want. There's even a reason why he decided to go beyond accidental heroism and actively go on patrol (there are very few heros, maybe none in that area because some big incident happened 20 years ago, which makes it a paradise for villains) He still try to only focus on small criminals of course.

Stuffs happens, now he is officially an underground hero and a teacher at Yuuei. His quirklessness is still a secret. Only a few know the truth and i think you can guess who. The officials all agree it would be more beneficial if they keep that hidden too (or he just convinced them). Spirit and Such is still opened, now run by Serizawa and Dimple, the kids stop by to help out sometimes too.

[wyn-n-tonic]

I'm No Saint

Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: Smut but not, like, explicit smut I don't think. Author's Note: Right, so like... it's not xReader because it's not written in second person but, like, it's still a pretty blank slate and I personally feel like first person tense is easier to imagine yourself in as the I and me statements make me feel like I have ownership and autonomy in the story? Anyway, if you enjoy this and would like to check out more of my writing, please check out my MASTERLIST and my original story available on Kindle Vella: Flash In the Pan (a new chapter comes out 8/1)! *narrator voice* She's back on her bullshit, lads.

"Mm, 'tiago, baby," I reach out for him, my finger tips brushing the scar that runs the length of his neck. "What's wrong?"

The mattress shifts beneath his weight and I watch through half opened eyes as he pushes himself into a sitting position. "Go back to sleep, mi amor," he says as he turns towards me. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Uneven breathing and tossing and turning? Darling, don't lie to me."

"Don't." He huffs a laugh and his head shakes. "Don't you start with that darling nonsense because—“

"Because what?" I sit up, holding onto the sheet across my bare chest with one hand as the other supports my weight.

Dim light flows from the bathroom and catches on the silver of his hair, more of which pops up every day with each new stressor or heartbreak or bad dream. I hate how much I love them, knowing it's not just his age that causes them but his pain too.

"Because first it starts with darling," he says, silhouette turning towards me. "And then it becomes honey and sweetheart and let me make you some tea. I can't take it, not tonight. I can't take being—“

"Loved, Santiago?" I ask him.

"Babied," he insists.

"Babied?!" I push myself up further and let the sheet slip as I reach for his shoulder. "How do I baby you, Santiago?"

"Because you won't stop trying to take care of me," he bites back. "Always, with your soft hands and soft voice. I'm not broken."

"Nobody ever said you were broken, my love. Maybe you did, maybe you do. But not me. If you were broken—somebody I thought I had to spend my life fixing—I would not have married you, I would have—“

"Put me in a fucking psych ward. Or a prison. Where I belong."

"You're being dramatic, Santi. Fucking prison? Really? The people who belong in prison are the ones who called the shots, not the ones who had to deliver them. Do I wish you had never enlisted? Do I miss the sweet boy I fell in love with at sixteen?" I pull him back flush against my chest, wrap my arms around him and press my lips into his cheek. "Yes, my love. To both questions. But I wouldn't give you up for anything. But I have to wonder...if you hadn't enlisted, would we be here right now? Would I have ever found my way back to you?"

He pulls away and turns to look at me with those deep brown eyes, so full of warmth and glassy with pain. "You're not the cold man you think everybody thinks you are, Santiago."

Silence falls between us and I watch as he scrubs a hand down his face, finally releasing a deeply held breath. "I'm kind of cold right now actually," he says while a smile cracks across his face. "Why do you insist on keeping it freezing in here?"

"You're changing the subject."

"I know but I can tell I said something that hurt you so I'm trying to walk away from it right now, okay?"

"Okay."

He looks me up and down and his smile stretches wider. "I can tell you're kind of cold too, sweetheart."

"Really?" I ask him. "You're turning this into a sex thing?"

He twists and leans forward, pressing his lips into mine. "Don't all my bad dreams end between your legs though?"

"That makes me sound like I'm your nightmare," I tell him. "Is that really how you expect to get in pants right now?"

Santiago pushes me back into the mattress and crawls above my body, bracing himself on his forearms. He's so beautiful and so... bent in places he wasn't when we were children. His hand smooths my hair back, thumb rubbing gently against my forehead and I can feel him growing against my hip.

"I'm telling you that you're the good that came out of my worst nightmare and you're the good that greets me at the end of every single one."

"And, yet," I begin, tracing the soft lines at the corner of his eye with my thumb, "here you are telling me I baby you because I love you."

"Because I don't deserve it."

I shake my head. "Maybe not." I run my finger around his orbital bone and up to the bridge of his nose before following the curve of it all the way down to the tip. "But that's not exactly your decision to make now is it?"

"Well then maybe I just think you don't deserve the shit I put you through."

I scrunch my nose. "Again, not really your decision to make. Like it or not, you're stuck with me so, are you gonna do anything with that dick or are you gonna tell me what a sad boy you are all night?"

"Screw you, sweetheart."

"That's what I said."

He buries his face into my neck, shifting all his weight into one side of his body and runs one hand down the length of mine. He stops when he comes to the hinge in my knee, fingers curling around and dipping into my flesh and he pulls until I'm hooked around his hip. Leapfrog. He calls it leapfrog whenever my leg is raised like this. Tells me how cute it is that I just naturally lay in this position that opens my hip so perfectly for him to just slide in.

"Made for me," he speaks into my neck. "Like it or not."

His hips move against mine, lifting slightly as he readjusts himself to rest his tip at my entrance and his grip on my leg tightens. "So wet already."

"I never dried up."

"That shouldn't have been so fucking hot," he says, biting into my neck as he pushes into me in one fluid motion.

"Is your solution to hurting," I wince slightly, "to make me hurt as well?"

He laughs, lips dragging up my jawline and to my lips. "Play with my hair," he tells me as he starts building pace in his small movements.

His hair is soft between my fingers, his overgrown curls running wild. I flex my nails along his scalp and pull the strands taut at the top of his crown as he grinds his hips down against mine.

His mind is still in that dream though, that terror. I can see it in his eyes. Because I can't fix this, I can only be his bandaid to the bad days. My body goes rigid and I push a hard breath out before he's shuddering against me, collapsing against me.

I've been a lot of bandaids lately.

"Santiago, my love," I cradle his head against my chest and feel him twitch inside of me at the endearment, "I think we should talk to that therapist again."

He nods as best he can and sniffs loudly as he maneuvers his arms to encircle my body. "Yeah, we can do that."

Silence falls between us again and his breathing evens out. I think he's asleep and I'm about to coax him awake when he looks up at me.

"Hey, baby?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I liked it when you called me Tiago earlier." I feel my eyebrows pinch and he stutters over his words to continue. "When you were barely awake," he says, "you called me Tiago. I liked that."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because," he takes a breath, "I'm no saint."

[n0b0dy11]

The Boy In Class My ~Ranboo

RanbooLive x Fem!Reader

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

"I've got you,"

"for how long?"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

╔═════∘◦ !TW! ◦∘═════╗

swearing

abuse and alcohol

depression and selfharm

╚═══════════════╝

(ranboo's name will just be ranboo)

Y/n didn't really know what love felt like, she didn't understand why everybody in her classes wanted a person to look at them with the thought of marrying in their head, or holding hands in the rain. It was all just bullshit anyway, most married couples divorce now a days, most kids are on accident, most couples use each other... Love is bullshit.

Ranboo, knew what love was, he wanted that person to stare at him while thinking of being married, he wanted to hold hands in the rain. It is a beautiful thought, marrying and spending your life with each other, having kids of your own and see them grow up, having someone that loves you by your side, .... Love is beautiful.

Y/n wasn't ugly, she wasn't a supermodel, but she had a beautiful skin, h/l  h/c hair and e/c eyes. She wasn't popular but she wasn't a nobody, she wasn't the smartest but she was not dumb, she had a beautiful life but only if you didn't look to much into it.

Ranboo, was handsome, no denying that. He was tall 6"6, to be exact, (1.98 m), he has dirty blond hair, which was so fluffy it hangs before his eyes. His eyes though, everybody could get lost in those grey ones of his. He was one of the smartest in class, he wasn't popular and a little bit of a nobody, his life looked sad but it was the most beautiful story.

Who says you need friends to be happy? That you need to be pretty? Or popular?

A lot of people

Y/n has her father, she lost her mother when she was 13, it was hard but then again her mother really didn't care that much.

"I am glad to be dying."

"What? Why?"

"I won't have to see you become a failure!"

"R-really?"

"Yeah, all my hard work for a good life for you? washed down the drain."

Her father blamed her for his wife's dead, not that he was around. He left when her mother gave birth, something about wanting a son not a useless daughter...

"Why are you studying?"

"I have a test."

"You can study later, go practice your football skills!"

"But i don't want to play football..."

"C'mon son, don't be ridiculous!"

When she stayed at his house those would be the conversations, but since her mother died it would be with a lot more aggression, alcohol and slurs. Ending in her being a punching bag.

"You know, you should be thankful to live with me."

"Why?"

"You killed your mother, do you think anyone would want a kid who killed their parent? I only keep you because you are my child, disappointed i was when I got that letter."

"If I was a son? Would you have stayed? Would you have cared?"

"Nope."

"..."

"Get out! Why do i even try with you! Get out!"

"..."

"just kill yourself like your mother! You were both pathetic and useless! Go join her! She would be disappointed to see you again!"

"..."

Words hurt...

The girl now lives alone. Not because she ran away, not because her father died, not because she got a better life. Her father just left, he packed his stuff, didn't even leave a note, not any money, no clothes and no food, just a plain empty house full of horrible memories.

On her arms and thighs you can find beautiful drawings, paintings, colored in red now it turned a bit brown, the finishing touches in blue now turned purple. Maybe not everybody had the same taste in art, but her art was beautiful, in it's own way, it was a beautiful canvas, smooth and with imperfections. Her tools silver and sharp, you could see your own reflection in them, she cleaned it often. Her paint coming out of nowhere, her tool not even dipped in the paint.

Ranboo had seen her before, talking to her friends or sighing when they left, sitting in class or getting frustrated at lunch. He didn't understand that he was the only when it seemed to notice these things. Her being late every Monday, dozing off in class, whispering curses under her breath, eye bags under her beautiful e/c eyes, hair tangled and not brushed out,...

Was he the only one who noticed,,, or the only one who cared?

or maybe both...

Every time he noticed he asked himself that, and he asked himself if she every had that curiosity in him, or was he just 'A Boy From His Class' when she remembered him. He just didn't know he was 'The boy from her class' he was special in her eyes, even if she never showed it.

Today, Monday, was no different to her other late arrivals, Y/n was late again. But when she walked in she didn't even react to the teacher calling her out on it. Her eyes focused on her page, not even looking up when asked a question.

"Y/l/n!"

"Y-yes." The yelling made her feel at home.

"The answer?"

She didn't know, of course she didn't.

"68," a soft voice told her from behind.

"68," she spoke up.

"Luck," the teacher muttered.

When the girl turned around her e/c eyes met those grey ones. He smiled lightly, but she didn't even have the strength to smile back, just uttering a small word of thank you. He frowned lightly at not getting her to smile back. Did he even see her smile at all.

"Y/l/n?"

"Uh-"

"987" the boy answered again but this time loud enough so the hole class heard.

"Thank you miss Y/l/n."

"No problem, sir."

Their class laughed a bit at how he had dragged out the word sir, but then again, they didn't understand why he stood up for Y/n not that it would be a bad thing, she had friends, but he didn't really maybe a few, Tubbo and Tommy.

After the class was over, Y/n ran as fast as she could, not wanting questions from the teacher, not wanting to have to talk to the boy who helped her.

But of course her luck.

"Hey!-" the same voice spoke when he grabbed her arm, making her wince of the pain, which shouldn't be there as he didn't put any force into his hand.

"Sorry."

"K, what do you want?"

He was a bit shocked at her rudeness which was evident in the widening of his eyes, and slightly mocking a fish with opening and closing his mouth so fast.

"Sorry," she sighed, "Thanks for saving my arse in class..."

"No problem. Do you want any help catching up on the lesson? Or is this the only class you zoned out so far?" it wasn't, and he knew it wasn't the first or last class she would zone out.

She debated if she should accept, he was pretty smart, but then he would want to meet up or something and that couldn't be at her house, and she didn't have electricity so her phone wasn't charged. Her phone wasn't even in a good shape as her father had thrown it to the ground a few nights ago.

After a few minutes of awkward silence she told him, "yes."

"Great, I'll give you my number, and you can text me when you're free?"

"Uh- my uhm, phone is dead, could you write it down? But i think I'm free any day normally except Wednesday and Friday, work."

The boy looked a bit shocked, he had observed her for a bit and she always listened to music when she was roaming in the halls or going home. So, her phone being dead, was rare, almost never.

She always had her music ready, ready when her father wanted to scream at her, ready when bullies walked up to her, ready when creepy people stared at her on the streets, ready when she just wanted to leave, and now her phone was dead, no escaping anymore...

She just smiled, chuckling a bit awkwardly before he handed her his phone, "Give me your number then, I'll send you a time?"

"Sure."

And she did, writing her number in his contacts while searching in her brain for a good name, not something lame, not just her name, something funny or silly even,

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

Miss, Daydreamer {Y/n}

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

she found it a bit lame but it had a little meaning about it. They did 'meet' because she was daydreaming again.

He smiled down at her contact name, it was silly sure, but it was funnier than just her name, he even referred to her that before he finally found out her name.

They shared a smile, both their eyes meeting and resting on each other for a few seconds. In his eyes she found reassuring for some reason she couldn't find, it was warm, a sort of warm a home needed to give off, but that wasn't in her case. Even if his eyes were one of the coldest colors reminding her of the walls of the house she lived in, alone, they shone bright and warmth radiated of them.

Her eyes were broken, he didn't need to look long to find that. But it hurt, he saw that her eyes used to be filled with love and passion, but it was empty, dark and lonely. But when she looked back up at him, he saw a little confidence and a tight smile on her lips, making her eyes shine the littlest, but the brightest he had ever witnessed, and it was his doing.

The broken girl smiling at the happy boy.

The happy boy loving the broken's girl smile.

Broken glass still shines, in pieces...

A/N

Hello! I just wanted to ask if a part two was wanted? I liked it but I know these are heavy topics, so wanted to put some attention to that,

I know times are hard, I am struggling too, not that it makes yours any better or worse. I just want you to know that there are people who care (ME!) even if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to, but if you do want to and you don't feel comfortable with telling you parents, family, friends, teachers, ... You can always come to me!

It is not selfish to be happy, or want to be happy. If you want some time for yourself and get on the right path again, take that time! Don't waste that time though. If people say it is selfish to turn people down 'just so you can get better' they can get there head out of their ass and look around, it's not selfish to search for a better place, better health or more selflove.

Be sure to eat and drink, I love you!

NLP

[sylverstorms]

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

[fullsupersoniccircle]

shouldn’t be surprised that it only took me less than a week to start thinking up some sonic fic ideas, and each is so wildly opposite from the other

Boom!Universe sonadow, based solely off of seeing somebody say how Sonic and Shadow act like bitter exes to each other and my big brain went ‘WOOOOOOOOOOOOO’

then something with Movie!Sonic ending up in the Archie universe, idk man i just love the idea of Archie!Sonic getting to meet a version of himself that has a more stable life than he had growing up

this last one is nsfw bcs it’s Evil Dead. specifically the Musical version bcs why not

the Boom sonadow is really inspired by the Olivia Rodrigo song deja vu and my love of messy breakups and healing from them, sometimes that may be crying your eyes out or fighting your ex but then it’s followed up with intense reflection and shyly talking again and healing each other!!! understanding what went wrong and learning from mistakes!!!!

the Archie!Movie! idea could have a lot more to it, but again just like!! Archie!Sonic, older and figuring out things after Eggman finally stops his takeover bullshit and gets blindsided by young Movie!Sonic just appearing and through their interactions kinda gets a little bit of healing from getting to know what could have been had he not been a leading person behind a rebel group taking down a tyrant that constantly threatened them and their families. also this would be before the 2nd film and i love the idea of a young Sonic meeting an older Tails and seeing that dynamic explored

and then in stark STARK comparison to those two is just the Sonic characters getting inserted into a gorey, innuendo filled, catchy musical. it’s super easy to find the music and even some recordings of stage shows on youtube, and just understand it is meant to be pure and utter camp. the big downside of this is that i see this au as more visual than having a desire to write it, and it has been WAY too long since i attempted drawing any sonic characters lmao

anyways cast as follows

Ash-Sonic (leading man has to be the leading man yaknow? also everybody loves heaping a shit ton of trauma onto their fave characters!!!)

Linda-Amy (like, the most fitting character even sans being with Sonic, also super cute number between Ash and Linda before everything goes terribly wrong!)

Cheryl-Tails (feral Tails. that’s it that’s the explanatio)

Scotty-Knuckles (you could put Game or Boom Knux here either way would work)

Shelly-Rouge (one polygon titted)

Annie-Shadow (OKAY i could have Blaze here instead but listen. just fukciigng LISTEN SHADOW PROGRESSIVELY LOSING PIECES OF HIS OUTFIT??? SINGING ABOUT ALL THE MEN IN HIS LIFE BEING KILLED BY CANDARIAN DEMONS????? JUST LET ME HAVE THIS ONE)

Ed-Silver (listen my nervous bab just fits beautifully here, also when i was part of an Evil Dead production the guy who played Ed has big Silver energy)

Jake-Big (good ol reliable Big)

[nlights37]

Fixer-Upper Ch. 5: Teaser

Trying to get this shit wrapped up as I type this, but until then, please enjoy this peek into Joe Snow's Real Depression Hours!

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

At least a quarter of the whiskey bottle remained, and he’d committed fully to polishing it off, but it seemed like it was taking forever.

That probably had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t quite breathe through his nose.

The nose thing, well, that was from the crying, not that he would ever tell anyone about that. Especially not Dany.

Fuck, now his eyes were burning again, and he wasn’t supposed to think about HER, not her name or her smell or her taste, Gods, the way she tasted was insane. There was this spot just at the pulse in her neck, where she was so sweet, and something about the way her heartbeat would speed up under the tip of his tongue, the way he could fucking feel her getting hotter for him, just made him crazy.

Jon slapped a hand against his own cheek, wincing a second after the loud crack sounded through the air, furious with himself. “Stop it.”

He heard a whine and looked up to find Ghost watching him from the corner, which was shocking on it’s own because the dog had refused to even look at him since he’d gotten back from his breakup and subsequent breakdown in his truck. How the dog had known he’d spent an hour in that parking lot silently crying, swiping his sleeve across his face every few minutes until the fabric was soaked, he wasn’t sure.

Who the fuck even was he anymore? He didn’t remember ever being this fucking pathetic.

Ghost tilted his head at Jon.

“This is your fault,” he answered, at the question in the dog’s eyes. He jabbed a finger towards Ghost, the rest of his hand wrapped around the liquor bottle, liquid sloshing as he pointed accusingly. “You were supposed to stop me, pal. How did you let me get in this fucking deep, huh?”

Maybe it was the alcohol but he was sure, in that moment, that Ghost glared at him.

Then the dog huffed, and circled, and turned his back to Jon completely.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, man.” Jon rose, a little unsteady, passing the muted television currently playing a ‘Westerosi Pickers’ marathon that he had chosen because he thought it would distract him but really all it had done was make him wish Dany was there tucked up right next to him like she was supposed to be, making fun of the hosts and eating all his chips and doing that thing he really liked to his earlobe during commercials.

No, no, he didn’t need to think about that, and he pitched forward, hand finding the wall there in the corner, as he slipped down next to his dog, in the dark. Fuck, it was night.

How long had he been drinking?

Fuck it, it didn’t matter, because he clearly hadn’t drunk enough yet, everything still hurt too much.

Begrudgingly, Ghost shifted until he could put his head in Jon’s lap, then sighed.

“You sad, too?”

Big eyes angled up to look at him, and another low whine emerged from the dog.

Jon set aside the bottle on the floor beside him and fished in his pocket for his phone, grunting with even that minor exertion. The screen swam before his eyes at first, but he managed to connect his phone to the bluetooth speakers above the television, and he fumbled around until he finally got his music app opened, the appropriate playlist selected.

There was dead air for a moment, and he met Ghost’s eyes again, resigned. “We gotta do it, pal.” The opening strains of ‘Everybody Hurts’ began to play, and Jon shook his head regretfully as Ghost’s ears pricked up. “Time for the breakup ritual.”

This wasn’t gonna work. He knew it, even as he began to bob his head drunkenly, every forlorn word striking directly into his inebriated broken heart.

He knew it wasn’t gonna work, but that didn’t stop him from coming in where he always did, off-key and far too loud. “Don’t let yourself gooooooooo,” he bellowed, face crumpling as he started crying again, mangling the next line terribly because he was finding you couldn’t shout your heartbreak out when you were also sobbing.

But he pulled it together for the most important part, yelling and slurring to the empty room that everybody DID hurt sometimes, and he was everybody, apparently.

His head thumped back against the wall and he stopped trying to do anything but sniffle and hiccup and drink and just let the rest of the song happen to him.

It looped, three times, and now he could only manage short breaths through his mouth, but when his reddened eyes fell on the gift bag he’d shoved beside his coffee table he jumped as if he’d been electrocuted. “Fuck,” he rasped, and crawled over to get it, leaning against the base of the sofa for support as he cradled the item in his lap.

Then a chill wracked him and it clicked in his mind why he’d tried to shove this out of sight earlier.

It smelled like her. Like that fucking lemon meringue pie body wash she used that made her smell fucking edible and he could almost taste her skin under his tongue, the firm give of flesh as he would sink his teeth into the rounded curve of her hip and she would moan and thread her fingers into his hair and pull…

He let his fingers crinkle against the tissue paper and sucked in another thin stream of air through his nose, still stopped up, his eyes feeling heated and swollen as he looked down at the present she had given him.

If he opened he, that would be it. It would be over. He didn’t know why, but it made a weird sort of sense, and he was convinced that this had to be true. So maybe he just shouldn’t open it.

But he had to.

Because she gave him something, and he had to know, he couldn’t not know, what was in this bag.

His mind flashed sluggishly to the desk calendar page he had meticulously poured over before declaring it a masterpiece, a brief record of what they’d done, a little something to remember him by when she inevitably got scooped up by some lucky fuck who could behave himself at parties and be respectable and made better choices. Jon was just a ruiner, anyway, that was one thing Ygritte had probably been right about, that Jon ruined everything he touched, killed it until there was nothing left.

Dany was better off without all his bullshit, in the end.

So, while he’d had every intention of keeping Naked November for his own personal times of reflection he’d decided to give it to her.

He wondered if she had unfurled it yet, if it had made her laugh, or maybe she’d studied it with that tiny devilish little smile that always popped up whenever sex between the two of them was involved.

Maybe she was doing what he was. Maybe she was getting shitfaced drunk and listening to sad music and trying to scrape together the will to purge Jon from her life. If he were going to continue on with his own special breakup traditions he would need to go round up all the things he hadn’t given her back at the park, things around his place that he knew full well were there but he hadn’t been able to part with. Her spare toothbrush, his extra from his last dentist visit, purple plastic spangled with silver glitter, still sat in the holder by his sink. Three berry yogurts were lining the door of the fridge, along with the pale ale she’d brought the last time she’d come over. Several of Drogon’s cat toys, his ‘floaters’ that ended up travelling between both their places, were scattered in with Ghost’s.

Maybe she was wandering around her place right now and finding it was just as haunted by the spectre of him as his house was saturated with her.

Maybe she was crying. He didn’t like the thought of that, at all. She’d looked upset at the park, putting on her best unaffected face for awhile, but maybe it was just the sex she was mourning.

A small, petty part of him hoped no one ever fucked her like he did, and made make all those amazing noises she made, and he hoped she never called someone else baby in that low throaty voice that made him want to bury himself inside her until neither of them could walk. That was his, and maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t care.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and took another drink from the bottle, smiling bitterly at the burn then thrusting his hand into the paper. He grew still when his questing fingers encountered a hard edge, and for the life of him he couldn’t begin to imagine what it could be.

So, he took a deep breath and braced himself, and pulled the object free.

[i-call-me-clarence]

Life’s a Cemetery (Dig It)

Kevin and Jack get their hands dirty on grave duty. 

Rated G 

Suptober Day 6: Cemetery Boys

Fic below the cut

----

“You sure you’re good?” Dean asks for the third time. 

“Kevin is here, and if anything happens we have angel blades and silver bullets,” Jack answers, making a little wave motion at Kevin who’s silently asking him how much longer he’s going to be on the phone. Kevin rolls his eyes and goes back to leaning on his shovel, refusing to start digging until Jack joins him. Jack doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer, “Dean, I’m sorry, but I have to--”

“And you’ve got the iron poker, right? And the holy water?”

“We still have everything in the pack you left us.” 

“But did you double-check? A real hunter always double checks, triple even--”

Before Jack can respond Kevin is taking the phone from Jack’s hands, “Believe it or not the ex-god and current prophet know what they’re doing. Bye.” and he hangs up the phone. 

Jack gives Kevin an apologetic shrug of his mouth as Kevin hands back the phone, slapping it into Jack’s hand. “He’s protective.”

“He’s turned into a helicopter parent. If I wanted that I’d just go back home.” 

“But that would put your mother at risk.” Jack tilts his head in confusion.

Kevin rolls his eyes and tosses Jack a shovel, “Come on. Let’s get this done before the sun goes down.” 

---

Three hours after sunset and they’re still digging. Jack started feeling lightheaded thirty minutes ago, and it’s gotten to the point where he needs to sit down. 

“I’m sorry, I have to--” Jack ends up thunking down on his butt before he can finish.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kevin asks warily, stopping his digging and leaning against his shovel, “Is the talisman wearing off or something?” 

“I--I don’t have a talisman,” Jack’s body is shaking and he’s starting to feel nauseous. Perhaps he should have listened to his body hours ago when it screamed at him to rest. But Kevin had kept going and he’d said he wouldn’t dig alone so…

“You don’t have an energy talisman?!” Kevin gaps at him and drops his shovel, “Are you kidding me?! You do realize you’re basically human now?” 

How could Jack forget? Being human was so difficult that it was impossible not to be reminded of it constantly. Even when he slept. He didn’t use to sleep as a Nephilim...or as God. But Amara’s taking care of that now. Letting Jack have a ‘normal childhood’ as she’d said. Something she was envious of and didn’t want Jack to miss. ‘Even Chuck let himself have one. After he invented the concept.’ when she’d told him that it was clear she was hiding a deep sadness. Jack had decided after his childhood was over, he’d take over as God again so she could have one too.  

“How are you even standing?!” 

“I’m...not.” 

Kevin looks at Jack, taking notice of the way he was starting to sway a little. Before cursing and getting down on his knees next to Jack. 

He grabs a hold of both sides of the necklace his talisman was supposedly attached to, “I’m going to regret this,” Kevin groans, before taking off the necklace and holding it out to Jack. A green light pulses from Kevin’s chest, swirling around his arm, before being sucked into the little medallion hanging from the golden chain in Kevin’s outstretched hand. 

Jack quickly takes the necklace, seeing the sudden strain in Kevin. As soon as he has it, Kevin lays back with a dull thud as his body hits the earth. 

“Oh my god,” he gasps, suddenly breathing very heavily. “Worst part about that talisman,” he pants, “After you take it off, you feel every bit of exertion. All at once. Oh, I’m gonna die.” 

Jack puts on the talisman and instantly feels better. Better than he’d felt since turning human. He wonders what would happen if you kept the necklace on all the time--

“And if you’re tingling from the charm and wondering ‘why can’t I wear this all the time,’” Kevin says in a deep mocking voice that sounded suspiciously like Dean, “Just look at me after five hours. Imagine a week, or even just a whole day.”

“It kills you?”

“It kills you.”

“I can finish this alone.” 

“Yeah, but first,” Kevin tried to sit up, grunting in pain, “Help me out of this damn hole.”

---

It had been an hour since Jack started digging by himself, making a grand total of eight hours. Just a constant monotony of stab scrape shovel. At least Jack felt pretty good with this talisman, and at least they were almost done. 

Stab, scrape, shovel. Stab scrape shovel. Stab--THUD!

Jack gasps in surprise, and Kevin leans over the opening of the hole to look down at Jack equally surprised, and elated. 

“Oh my god,” he laughs, falling back on the grass, “We finally did it,” Jack hears him say. And then he groans, “But now I have to move.”

“If I were still God I could read this. Or create new eyes that could,” Jack notes, scrapes the remaining dirt off the coffin with his hands. 

“If you were still God we probably wouldn’t even need this spell. And if we did, you could just teleport the tome out without all this bullshit.” 

A reneged sector of angels, lead by the angel Inias, had decided to declare war on all remaining prophets. They thought they could use them to find a way to spy on Amara and overthrow her from, well, Goddesshood. This was the grave of a prophet, and inside was a tome they were buried with that held a spell to make prophets invisible to angels and demons. Probably how she lived long enough to die of old age. At first Jack had been sad, thinking this would mean he wouldn’t get to see Kevin anymore. But Sam said he was pretty sure that he could rework the spell so any angels or demons that gave of their blood in the ceremony would be able to still see prophets. 

Jack hopes so.

Kevin leans his head over the grave again, wincing. “Wow, now that you’ve uncovered it, those sigils are really bright.” 

Jack agrees, though what seemed like blue glowing sigils to them wouldn’t appear at all to normal humans.

Jack opens his mouth to say so but is cut off by his phone ringing in his pocket.

“Is that Dean again?” Kevin asks tersely. 

Jack checks the caller ID and nods.

“Hand it here,” Kevin says, lunging his arm forward and down.

Jack hands over the phone and Kevin rolls back over with it, out of sight.

“Dean?” Jack hears him say. “Bring burgers and water.” A pause where Kevin must have been about to hang up because he says, “Oh, and get your asses over here.” and Jack hears a beep from the call ending. 

“Here you go,” Kevin dangles his arm over into the grave, phone in hand.

-----

They eat inside the impala--Kevin mostly chugs water at first--with the engine idling and cabin lights on. Kevin and Jack are both filthy, but Dean doesn’t mind. ‘Part of bein’ a Hunter’ he’d said. Back in the old times, Cas or Jack would clean everybody up. But seeing as they were both human now, he and Kevin were doomed to be dirt-covered.

“How did it go?” Castiel asks from the front seat, mouth half full of burger, “You didn’t run into any problems?” Castiel had been wearing his regular suit before he’d left but was now wearing a space cats hoodie he’d gotten for himself when he took Jack to Hot Topic. He must have brought it with him in the car.

Kevin stops chugging water to answer, “No ghouls, no cops, no cemetery keepers or grieving loved ones, though that last one would be unlikely seeing as she was buried three hundred years ago. Where’s my burger?”

“Got you four,” Dean grins and waggles his eyebrows. 

“I may just be able to eat that many.”

“Yeah and I’ll finish whatever you don’t. That goes for everybody.” Dean continues.

“Didn’t you just get back from a dinner date?” Kevin asks suspiciously, “Actually, if you didn’t, don’t answer, I don’t wanna know.”

“We did just get back from dinner…” Cas starts slowly. “It was, uh...fancy.” 

“Too fancy,” Dean grumbles.

“Ah. Small portion sizes.” Kevin nods, but then pauses, “Aren’t you supposed to have fifteen courses or something?”

“Yeah well, we got a call three courses in to deliver some emergency burgers.” Dean shrugs, “Prefer the burgers anyway.” 

“Jack, are you wearing an amulet?” 

Jack jerks as he realizes he forgot to take it off, “Uh oh,” he says, setting down his burger. “I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“What’s happening?” Dean asks looking around the cabin, panicked.

“Jack left an energy talisman on too long.” Cas sighs, looking sorry.

“Ohoho buddy,” Dean says into the air,  smiling but also looking kind of sorry too, and even more so when he meets Jack’s eyes. He pauses. “Yeah bud, uh, that’s gonna be a bitch to take off.” He frowns.

Jack grabs the golden chain--

“Woah, man, what are you doing?” Kevin gasps after having grabbed Jack’s arm and stopping him from taking off the talisman. 

“Will it kill me?” Jack asks everybody, suddenly nervous.

“Well, no,” Dean begins, winces, “It’s just gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“Then shouldn’t I get it over with?” Jack asks, confused.

“You might pass out,” Castiel warns gently.

“You’re probably gonna wanna go with the passing out,” Kevin says, putting a bracing arm on Jack’s shoulder “It’ll suck less.”

Kevin nods at him and Jack takes that as a sign it’s time to take the talisman off. He lifts the chain up and off, and then something strange happens. 

A green light swirls from both Jack and Kevin’s chests and swirls into the amulet. 

Both of them double over. 

“Woah! You kids alright?” Dean asks, lunging a hand over the backseat to touch Jack’s back, as Castiel quickly spins out of the car and back in at Kevin’s door, holding him up, checking his eyes and tongue, he goes to stick his finger in Kevin’s ear to take his temperature before remembering he can’t do that anymore. 

“Kevin? Are you okay? Jack! Jack, are you okay?” Castiel asks urgently.

“Goddammit,” Kevin sighs, “Twice in one night, oh man I’m really gonna die.” then he looks at Castiel before reassuring, “Really, it wasn’t that bad.” Kevin turns to Jack, “How do you feel?”

“...Not that bad,” he answers truthfully.

“Hot damn.” Dean is smiling, leaning back into his seat, “Well now we know that’s a thing!” 

“It could potentially save lives,” Castiel agreed. “I’ll have Sam tell the other hunters...though this may just be a situational occurrence between a prophet and a Nephilim. Who knows really.”

“It was still pretty cool,” Dean defends. 

Castiel gets back into the car. 

“And I’m not denying that. Why do you always jump to conclusions?”

“What are you talking about ‘always?’” Dean grunts back and starts up the car, pulling out of the cemetery parking lot.

Kevin and Jack tune Dean and Cas out. 

“That was pretty cool,” Kevin says.

“Yeah,” Jack frowns, looking at his friend. “We’re going to perform the ceremony when we get back.” This may be one of the last times he ever sees or hears him again.

Kevin puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder, “It’s going to be okay. Even if we have to do it by proxy for a little while, I won’t stop being your friend. Okay?” 

Jack smiled, putting a hand on Kevin’s shoulder too, which may have been weird or awkward but seemed like the thing to do. 

Kevin smiles at Jack before patting his shoulder and saying “I’m going to pass out now.” 

Jack nods and Kevin immediately drops his head back onto his seat and starts snoring. 

Jack leans back in his own seat, feeling exhausted as well. Dean and Cas have stopped arguing and put the radio on low, laughing at j=okes here and there as they talk softly. 

The running engine and metronome light of street lamps going by, and the familiar classic rock playing all seemed to be in some sort of competition with who could lull Jack to sleep first. The sound of the impala won. 

The End

[shesawriter39049]

|UNWRAP ME| M|

Pairing : Jimin X Reader (Ft a lil Tae)

“There’s a bow on my panties because my ass is a present!”

About- Honestly, you were just trying to prep gift bags for your company’s holiday party! But Jimins stressed, and needs a little brain reset sooo….I guess we’re prepping gift bags later!

Or- The company has quite a few deadlines to hit before you guys close for the holiday! Jimin’s in charge of talent and everybody’s fucking up…but in your line of work it’s a domino affect! So if his crew falls behind ultimately everybody’s behind! Hints Jimin’s stress and frustration....

WC: Sneak peek (1k)

WARNINGS: (FULL THING): Teasing, light edging, dirty talk, top/bottom OC, top/power bottom Jimin, hand restraints, unprotected sex, over stimulation, fingering (F receiving), biting/marking kink, VERY light degration kink (he playfully calls her a “little bitch/slut” once) light come play, light spanking

FINAL NOTE: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with! P.S. If you’re new here Kookie joins the party a little later….

*Pierced Jimin/Red haired “Dope” Era Jimin meets 2020 Jimin!?

*Also it should go without being said but Jimin, IS Westernized, he’s from LA in this ffs!

*In true Rocki fashion I decided to do holidy prompts late af & did not finish in time for the main Holiday but w/e! Note, there is some backstory here bc this was set to be the 1st of 3 holiday prompts!** ___________________________________________________

Sunday, December 14TH, 4PM 

“Alright, so you wanna hear some bullshit?!”

K, well that’s apparently Jimin, musing around a mouth full of fries! I love how no one even bothers to knock, give notice they just show the fuck up! Whenever...

Cute.

I swear it sounds like your running a damn liquor store because there’s an obnoxious amount of bells and mistletoe hanging above the door almost acting as a doorbell at this point. Just casually Fa-la-laing together, echoing throughout your entire apartment every damn time the door opens! Honestly, your slowly regretting giving Jin and Tae free reign with decorations because that shits annoying as all hell!

Gaze still focused on your original task, not even looking in his direction “Don’t trip over the-“ There's a loud thud, followed by an obscene groan, accompanied by an even louder “Fuckkk!” Which solidified he did in fact trip over the ....

“....Box with Jin’s other Christmas tree in it ...” The words kinda died off your tongue at this point because well, clearly the warning did not fare well! “If anything’s broken I’m totally snitching just so we’re clear” Sassing over a half empty glass of spiked eggnog.

Now that you’ve finally looked at him, you find yourself hiding a smirk behind your cocktail as well! The boy is fine, you’d give him that! Looking like a model off duty, in his low cut white v, neck hidden beneath a distressed leather jacket! Topping off the look with a pair of chunky combats and disrespectfully tight dark wash denim jeans! I swear they damn near looked painted on, aviators resting on the bridge of his nose! Gucci backpack slung over his shoulder, Starbucks in one hand, and some brown bag full of grease in the other! Jimin recently went back red, looking dangerously close to the same 18 year old you met, at UCLA almost years ago now!  Just a boujier version, it’s like this Jimin’s from Calabasas instead of the Bay! Though your down for both options if we’re being real!

Not that Jimin’s not equally as good of company as well, you were honestly just expecting Tae! The two of you were starting to put together the gift bags for next week's holiday party! Hints the hot ass mess all over the floor of your living room, it’s a disgusting pile of shopping bags and boxes! Everything from Amazon to Saks Fifth, at this point you aren’t even sure where the fuck your floor starts or ends! One thing you do know for damn sure is Hobi’s going to have an aneurysm If he sees it! Sooo, hopefully Tae shows up sooner than later...

It’s become a tradition, or at least since the companies been profitable enough to do so! First off, you’re love language has always been a combination of “Gifts” and “Acts of service, so shit like this is essentially second nature!

However, quality time has slowly slipped its way into the mix over the past couple of years as well! Especially considering it’s almost a luxury for the seven of you at this point but you try not to complain! I mean Namjoon and yourself just did an interview last week for Forbes 30 under 30 for fucks sake! But anyway, like I was originally saying this little party is your way of trying to give your staff a combination of all 3 said love languages!

Above everything else you all work your asses off well, aware this is far from a 9-5, yet they give you their best constantly! Yeah, it was built on the backs of you and your boys but it wouldn’t be were it is now without everyone else! So, with that being said the schedule is as follows! 

1.Bust ass and hit all of your year end deadlines by December 22nd. 

2.The holiday party is on the 23rd...

3. Thennnnnn....after that the companies closed until the 2nd of January! 

Well kinda, if we’re being real the 7 of you never fully stop working, but you damn sure plan to try! I guess it’s the beauty and the curse of having damn near everything accessible on your phone! I swear this morning Joon was washing your back whilst you read him the latest profit/loss update from Jin soooo......that’s that!

Everyone else however....off duty with pay!

Which brings us back to the original task at hand before Jimin showed up,prepping the gift bags that get handed out at said holiday party! The invite list is pretty exclusive honestly,outside of your staff, and there plus one, the other guests are typically the immediate crew/ talent used throughout the year on various productions! Oh, there’s also special little packages mailed out to a couple of the company's sponsors as well! So all together were looking at at least 100 gift bags give or take! Of course at this stage you guys go all out but that’s not what it’s about! It’s legitimately the thought that counts!

Little gestures like this just remind people that you care,that they’re on your mind even if they aren’t currently doing you a favor! That’s what sets Onyx apart, all the little things you do without even thinking about it! Coffee, donuts, catering on set for long shoots,or even the little kits Jimin brings with him to set for the models! Fully stocked with soothing cream, heating pads, the full nine! It’s actually sad how much of a rarity it is in your line of work! 

Obviously, it goes without saying that those types of gestures aren’t feasible for everyone....However there’s companies worth more than you that do amples less!

But anyway back to Jimin and Tae! As I mentioned when the door originally opened you were expecting a mop of silver locks as opposed to red! Baby boy ran out to pick up the custom gift bags from this Indie vendor in WeHo. Hint’s why you were expecting Tae instead, now, why Jimins here I have no damn idea! Clearly we’re about to find out and apparently it’s “Some Bullshit!”

Honestly outside of checking his OOTD you didn't truly look at him. Far too busy propped on top of your oversized dining room table sorting through a manusery of  “Thank you” cards!

Eyes flicking to the left ever so slightly as you hear him shuffle closer “I-yeah sure what bullsh-wait are you eating my DoorDash?!”

It’s the way you constantly have to remind yourself that jail will not be like Orange is in the new black! Because I swear you damn near chucked this martini glass at that fire engine red dome of his!

Jimin just shrugs, a little nonchalant and unenthusiastic, almost as if he’s inconvenienced actually...

“Mmm, depends on perspective” He deadass just stuffed two more fires in his mouth! You're literally going to strangle him! It’s borderline painful how hard  your jaw tick, eyes narrowed in his direction!

Brows arched so damn high your gonna end up needing Botox from the permanent crease embedding within your skin. “Perspect-your literally eating-“

Holding a solitary finger in your direction “Tae just text me and said look at your phone and text him back...with like, a million pouty faces. Also, different note, who changed the decorations I placed on the mantle?! “

Jimin’s hand is now resting on his hip, legitimately angry about these damn decorations! I think his neck even did a couple rolls in the process, and I’m willing to bet,before he leaves they will be swapped out again!

A frustrated groan attempts to leave your throat  though it goes unacknowledged as your lacking any ounce or bite! Far too fond of both of your boys to truly be agitated at the moment! Actually that’s a lie, you high key wanna punch Jimin but it’s fine ....

“That, would be Jin, he said they clashed with the table decor” Pointing to all of the gold, and maroon colored decorations donning the marble coffee table “So, if your pissed go curse him out because I could give less than a damn! Now where the fuck is my phoneeee”

Hopping off the table causing your oversized UCLA Alum hoodie to hike over your ass. Said ass is covered or barely covered considering your cheeky, red, ruffle little panties are in fact assless! A cute little bow perched right on top of your tailbone, as if to direct the eye where to go….

Jimin is now choking on stolen fires and yeah there’s a smirk on your face as you grab your phone!

Mmmmhmmmm...and to think, maybe if he wasn’t being such a brat you’d let him unwrap one of his gifts a little early!

“Baby now he’s calling meeee” Anddddd he’s whining, wiggling his phone like it’s on fire! Ya know, moments like these in fact remind you that Tae and Jimin are the youngest!

“Oh for fucks sake!” Huffing in his direction snatching the phone and bag of Five Guys away in the process!

“Yes baby?” It’s actually terrifying how quickly your tone, and entire demeanor just switched! Somewhat reminiscent to how you’d see a mom scold one child then baby talk another all in the same breath! 

Jimin without a doubt noticed too, lip jutting out in a pout and no matter how many times you roll your eyes you still find yourself leaning forward kissing it right off! He moans into it and you Instantly taste the tangy seasoning from your fries, especially once he tries to swipe his tongue past the seam of your lips. The feeling of that tiny piece of metal playing in his mouth almost distracted you, but alas...the notion immediately reminds you why you were irked to begin with! Without even thinking you lean back into nipping at his bottom lip, though...this is Jimin we’re dealing with here! So whatever you thought you’d achieve is now dead, because a needy little whine just rustled in the back of his throat 

Speaking of love languages,there’s another called “Physical Touch” which has the words Jimin Park written all over it. So with that being said you really should’ve already been prepared for whatever’s about to unfold.

It’s subconscious at this point, head dropping down to the crook of your neck, nosing up a vein like a neglected puppy! Squeezing your waist hard enough to damn near engrave his thumb print in against your hip bones! Well, clearly he doesn’t want you going anywhere anytime soon!   

So what do you do instead? Place the bag of food on the bar, hold the phone in one hand and bring the other up to play in his freshly dyed locks! I swear this man is a second away from purring so maybe he’s not a puppy after all. Suddenly his ring clanned fingers trickle down your spine heading south, flexing his palm to squeeze down around the swell of your ass! Shifting you forward so your chest to chest...

So, here you are trying to cater to both of your boys at once...lord help you!

“No, of course I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just busy-yes Tae. You wanna put what in a what,Now?”

~~~~~

Hiii, as I mentioned above this was kinda last minute, I wrote out prompts on the 21st, then adult life kicked in. I actually had my own little office Christmas party to plan (Nothing on this scale obviously because well, we know the way the real world is rn) However because of that I couldn’t truly work on this until the 24th. However it’s been a long time since I wrote/wanted to write so I opted to just post it anyway! Hopefully the full thing will be up by the 28th at the latest.

I have also attached the overall masterlist for this AU!

7 DEEP 

[ships4you]

the necklace fiasco {sokka}

Requests: hi, can you do a sokka imagine, like a angst to fluff vibe with angry kissing 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Pairing: Sokka x reader

Warnings: Cursing & slight smut

Prompt: Sokka is constantly annoying the reader and one day, they snap. Sokka uses a unique strategy to calm the reader down. Which ends up causing an awkward situation for everybody.

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A HEADCANON. I’m not sure what happened, but I just kept going. So happy reading!

Sokka just really had a way of pushing your buttons.

You had spent all day cleaning up the house in Ba Sing Se you were all staying in while looking for Appa. Meanwhile, Toph and Katara were out training Aang. Sokka had disappeared earlier in the day, per usual.

“Come with me (y/n).” Sokka had begged that morning. “I will another day, our house is filthy though. I need to clean.” you said scrubbing down those mornings dishes. Aang and Katara were always good with their messes, but between Toph and Sokka the house would turn into a rats nest if you let it go for too long. “I’m going to do some training later though, so when you come back we can spar.” Sokka murmured a “yea-yea-yea.” before walking out the door.

“Aaaand, done.” You mumbled to yourself, whipping down the dust from the last countertop. You sighed, laying down on the mat on the floor, deciding to relax for a bit before your friends showed up.

Not even two minutes later Sokka strolled into the house, immediately tossing his satchel on the freshly cleaned floor.

“I’m ba-ack”

“Oh perfect, this will ease my headache.” you said sitting up, eyeing the remains that had fallen out of his bag.

“So, are you planning on making dinner anytime soon?” he leaned against the railing. He proceeded to kick off his shoes, which landed with a soft ‘clunk’. You scoffed now focusing on his discarded muddy shoes, “…Excuse me?”

“Dinner? I thought you would start by now that why I came back.”

You inhaled deeply, pushing the air out harshly from your mouth. “And where exactly did you come back from?”

He jumped up excitedly, “Oooh! I’m glad you asked!” He began rummaging through the bag, throwing its remains to the side as he searched. “Ta-dahhh!!” In his hand he held out a short thin gold necklace with gemstones along the edges.

“A necklace.”

“A necklace!”

“Soooo, what Sokka? Are you planning on wearing it to the Earth Kings ball? How much that thing anyways?!”

He shrugged, “Eh, like three silver pieces. But look!! Isn’t it pretty!!” He held the necklace against his neck, posing for you.

“You spent three silver pieces on a necklace. Sokka. I just made that money from working, two days ago! You can’t be spending everything we’ve been earning willy-nilly! That money was for food… and supplies!! And you just went off and spent it all for a silly necklace!” you fumed, pacing back and forth.

“Yea but-“

“No. No ‘buts’. You disappeared at the crack of dawn to go off and spend all our money, while I was here cleaning ALL DAY. Finally you show back up tossing your shit everywhere, tracking mud in with your shoes, and ask when dinner is going to be ready?! Are you serious?! I am sick and tired of you and your bullshit!”

Sokka set the necklace down, “My bullshit?! No one asked you to clean (y/n)! You could have come into town with me to explore, just like all the other times I asked you, but noooo. Because nothing is allowed to be fun! I was just trying to do something nice for yo-“

“Ohhh I’m sorry my version of FUN doesn’t involve living in filth and spend all of our money.” By now you were standing in front of him. “You do know that we need food to survive, right?!” you seethed, poking his chest with your finger.

“Why does this bother you so much?! You’ve never cared about this sort of stuff before.” He grabbed your wrist pulling it off of him, holding it to your side.

“Well maybe I’m just fed up with you being such a piece of shit all the time.” You lifted you’re free hand to push him away, but he reacted too quickly and grabbed a hold of your other hand.

“(y/n), you need to calm down!”

You struggled against his grip, “No!! You have been pissing me off and I have kept my mouth shut this whole time! I-“

Before you could finish he slammed his lips against yours. You thrashed for a second, fighting against his grip.

The kiss was messy at first, his nose bumping against yours. You attempted to pull away causing him to accidentally suck too hard on your bottom lip. But with his second attempt, you couldn’t help but melt into him. He let go of your wrists and grasped the sides of your face, guiding your face towards his. You clenched his tunic, tugging at the pieces of cloth.

He disconnected his lips from yours, raising his arms up, allowing you to slip his shirt over his head. He pulled you into him, kissing your lips feverishly– hands traveled down your back, cupping your ass and giving it a light squeeze. He pulled apart just long enough to groan, “Bedroom?”

“Yes.”

The two of you ran to the closest room, which happened to be yours, knowing your friends would be home anytime soon. Once the door was latched and shut behind you, he sat back on your bed pulling you towards him to steal another kiss.

“Mmm,” you pulled away, “I’m still furious at you.”

He smirked, “Yea I know.”

“And don’t think for one second-“

“Spirits, stop talking.” he growled and pulled you on top of him to straddle his waist. You spread your hands over his chest as he slid his tongue into your mouth ever so slightly. You tugged at his ponytail, brushing your fingers through his locks as they fell from their restraints. At this point he couldn’t hold back any longer. He completely lost it and began moaning into your mouth.

He slid his face down yours to tilt your chin back with his nose. Immediately latching onto your neck. You could feel the kink from the band in his hair, which you had carelessly tossed to the floor. Testing the waters, you ground your hips down into his. His hands grasped to your sides, encouraging you to continue. A whine escaped his mouth, you could feel his hot breath against your skin as he whimpered just in front of your ear. His hands began sliding underneath your shirt as you rode against him. Feeling his his boner pressing against your-

“We’re homeee!”

The sound of Aang’s voice causing you to jump off his lap, pushing Sokka off to the side.

“Shit, shit, shit.” you said.

Sokka stared you at you, his big cobalt blue eyes wide with shock. His hands held up next to his head as if he had just knocked a child unconscious. His wavy brunette fringe framing his face. How were you supposed to focus with this specimen laid out before you.

“Okay uh, you need to fix…” you glanced downwards, gesturing toward the tent in his pants, “That… And I’ll go talk to them.” you said before running out the door.

Sokka groaned falling back against your bed, hands swiping down his face.

“Hey! How was training?” you strutted from your room, carefully closing the door behind you. Aang enthusiastically told you all the new tricks he had learned that day, not questioning a thing. Katara stood there eyeing her brothers top laying on the floor and your unruly hair.

***

Dinner was a nightmare.

You and Sokka didn’t speak, just quietly finished your food. If none of them noticed earlier, they definitely could tell something was up now. Even Aang was suspicious. After dinner, Sokka left without a word.

“Sooo.” Katara said, “Are we just not going to talk about what happened earlier?”

“What?!” your eyebrows furrowed, “Nothing happened what are you talking about?”

“(y/n) don’t play dumb. I saw where you two were, I could sense it with earthbending.” Toph shuttered.

You stood up quickly, “I need some air.” you said before storming out the front door, pressing your back against its cool surface, burying your face into your hands.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Sokka standing at the base of the steps. Peachy. Just peachy.

“Hi…” you pushed yourself off the door frame, hugging your sides. “Where did you run off to?”

He walked up the steps, offering a small smile. His clothes had wet marks splattered up and down his front. His ‘warriors wolf-tail’ had loosened, causing a few strands to fall from their restraints. You couldn’t help yourself from wondering if would push you away if you were to tuck the stray hairs out of his face.w

“I went to go return the necklace.” he said tossing a bag filled with coins at you. You caught it, opening it up to find a few more copper pieces along with the three silver.

“Oh and I spent an hour tossing fish at the market.” He held his hands up, “Beware. I may smell a little fishy.” He smirked, leaning against the rail behind him.

“…Why?”

He shrugged, “You were right. I can be an ass sometimes. So, basically this is my way of saying I’m sorry. And my way of saying thank you for putting up with my bullshit, I guess.”

You sighed, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

“Not at all. I definitely needed some sense knocked into me.”

There was a slight pause as he reached up to scratch the back of his head.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “So, I’m sorry you won’t be able to wear your pretty necklace to the ball. I can make one for you if you’d like.” You smile up at him, doing your best at offering a truce.

“Oh right.” he chuckled. “That-” His eyes fixated on yours. He slid his bottom lip beneath his teeth, letting it slowly fall back out. “I uh- I actually got that for you.”

Your mouth fell open ever so slightly, unsure of what to say. “Oh… Why?”

“Honestly, cause I think you’re great. And I don’t know… I saw that necklace in the store and I just knew I wanted you to have it. I thought maybe I would give it to you and tell you how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?” you felt a surge of confidence and stepped towards him.

“I feel…” he looked you up and down, struggling to find the right words.

“Yes?” you urged him on taking another step towards him.

“I feel like I’m crazy about you.”

That was all you needed to hear. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him in. You kissed him, but different from last time. It wasn’t as rushed; you took your time, trying to engrave the memory of his swollen lips against yours. He ended it short by him pulling away.

“Woah-woah-woah wait. So are you still mad at me? Cause I want to make sure we’re good now-“

“Spirits, stop talking.” you teased before pulling him again.

Tag list: @aimee1602 @myexgirlfriendisthemoon​