#i want them to go through horror movie like events

[the-slasher-madame]

Hi! I came across your blog today and I love it! I have a scenario type thing for Brahms I just thought of

So, only hours after the events of the movie, reader somehow someway finds the manor and decides to take refuge in there for a bit. They explore around a bit and the only reason Brahms hasn't attacked or anything is because he's simply too weak, so he retreats into the walls. Reader finds the doll, and just so happens to have owned a lot of glass/ceramic dolls in their past, so they know how to fix them up. As reader is fixing up the dolls head the best they can, they hear a loud thump from inside the walls, queue Brahms passing out. And you can take creative liberty from there LMAO

Sorry if that was a lot and you can change up anything you see fit! Thanks!

Awww HI!!!!! I'm glad you like it here <3333

LOL I love this because it just seems funny, random person is caring for the doll and Brahms just passes tf out and reader just goes "hmmm yes into the walls, let us care for the strange man." Ain't me, I get heart palpitations just playing phasmophobia lol, I'd die first in a horror movie (but hopefully I'd get my dying wish of a kiss from the handsome villain 👀.) Onwards!!

Warnings/Notes: mentions of violence, injuries, mentions of age regression (reader has friends who do), GN reader, poor Brahmsy :(, 

ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᶦᵉˢ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵉᵗᵗᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᴵ ᵖʳᵒᵐᶦˢᵉ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ >_<

I had to get that off my chest >_< anyways enjoy for real this time<3

Brahms had finally retreated to the walls, having patched himself up to the best of his abilities. It wasn't much, but it was something; he wouldn't die without saying he tried, he thought. It wasn't just his body hurting, but his heart, his mind. He really cared for Greta, had killed to protect her, and she betrayed him. She left him to die in the same house he'd been trapped in, alone, for his most of his life. Brahms thought he was about as bitter and angry at the world as he could get, yet here he was. If he could've moved he thinks he would have torn the mansion apart by now, or perhaps even left (he knew he'd never do that, he was as stuck with this broken home as he was with his broken face). He had just settled into a comfort spot in the walls when he heard the unmistakable creaking of the front door. This terrified him, thinking that Greta may have come back to make sure he was dead or had brought the cops to take him away. He groaned and gathered his strength to start towards the front of the house, stopping near one of the fireplaces to grab another weapon. He slowed as he reached the front, both due to exhaustion from his injuries and an attempt to be covert. Brahms, expecting to see Greta or unfamiliar men busting through the house, was properly surprised when he saw you instead. You had closed the front door while he made his way to this part of the house, and had stopped when you reached the shards of the doll. He rested a moment to see what you would do, as well as to catch his breath from the mad dash through his wall labyrinth. 

“I think I can fix you little guy, hm? You know where I can find some superglue or porcelain? Why don’t we go looking around,” you hummed to the doll, having gathered all the pieces of its poor head. Brahms was shocked for the second time tonight, seeing you interact with the doll. He hadn’t interacted with many people, but he was certain that most wouldn’t stop for something that simple. They wouldn’t bother to even think of fixing it. He wanted so badly to go to you, to beg for some sort of help or comfort, but the recent betrayals kept him in the walls to watch as you started to wander through the halls of the house. Brahms passed by the mirror he burst through earlier, but his head started to spin. He tried so hard to stay upright, but the combination of emotional and mental turmoil of the night and his injuries made it impossible; he felt like he was watching himself crash to the floor before his sight finally faded to blackness. 

You, on the other hand, jumped when you heard the noise. You had thought you were alone in the house; you had seen no cars out front or lights on in any of the windows. You carefully set the doll down and started back towards where you thought you heard the thump come from. As you cautiously rounded the corner, alert for possible assailants, you spot a large humanoid shape on the ground. The mirror was broken, like the person had fallen through it. You were quite properly terrified, but unfortunately for you, you had a kind heart. You could see the blood and bandages on what you determined to be a man, and you knew you had to help him. You slowly crept towards him and slid the fire poker out of the way, deciding you could pick that up in a moment. You rolled the man over onto his back, catching sight of some poorly applied bandages and plenty of blood smeared around his chest. It seemed pretty apparent to you that the man before you had no clear knowledge of first aid, or at least not enough to deal with whatever had happened to him. You had also noticed the cracked porcelain mask adorning his face, which was admittedly a little weird, but who were you to judge? I mean you had technically broken in and invaded his home, so you were certainly in no position to critique anyone. 

You decided to look for some supplies before messing with the injury underneath all those bandages, You went back towards the kitchen, grabbing the fire poker before you went (no sense in giving him a way to hurt you when you just wanted to help. You riffled around in the kitchen cabinets, trying to find anything that looked like a first aid kit, or hell even some bandages. You found nothing, huffing as you arose from your knees and started walking back towards where you left the man. You rounded the corner just as the man shot up. His breathing was ragged as he whipped his head over to you, his eyes boring into you through his mask. You slowly set the fire poker on the ground, raising your hands above your head to show you meant no harm. The man flinched backwards anyways, starting to look around wildly for an exit. His current state was unstable as it is, and you didn’t want him to further hurt himself. 

“Hey! Hey hey hey I won’t hurt you. Let’s calm down a little alright? I’m sorry to startle you,” you said, keeping your voice low and not moving. He started staring at you again, still heaving with heavy breaths. It wasn’t a lot, but you took it as a positive move. “My name’s Y/N, what about you?” He continued staring at you, thinking over whether to tell you. He was scared, he was unsure, and he was hesitant to trust anyone right now. You were going to start talking again, figuring he didn’t feel comfortable telling you any information. Just as you opened your mouth, the man before you opened his. 

“My name is Brahms, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man before you spoke softly, his voice closer to a child’s than an adult’s. His manners stuck with him, despite his fear. Your heart melted, seeing him deflate with fear and defaulting back to politeness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Brahms. Is this your house?” you said, trying your best to be gentle. The child-like voice also didn’t phase you much, either, as you had friends that would age regress. You were also more of a ‘go-with-the-flow’ sort of person, figuring to let people do what they wanted as long as it didn’t hurt themselves or anyone else. 

“Yes, I’ve lived here my whole life,” Brahms responded to your question, surprised yet again by you. Most people were terrified when they saw him and heard him, their posture stiffening while they tried to back away. But he didn’t notice any of that with you; your breathing didn’t even change. 

“Well Brahms, it’s a lovely house from what I’ve seen. I’m sorry to intrude, I didn’t know this house was occupied. I couldn’t help but notice you were hurt, can I help you with that?” Oh, you were so genuinely concerned for him. His eyes were tearing up, he didn’t think anyone could genuinely care for him, let alone a stranger. Meanwhile, you swear you could hear your heart break as he answered, “Please,” in such a scared, tired voice. 

“Alright, thank you Brahms. Do you know where I can find some supplies? A blanket, some washcloths, a first aid kit?” You had lowered your hands by this point, kneeling down but still keeping a good distance away from your new friend, because you didn’t want to overwhelm him. You could tell this was a lot for him to handle at the moment. Brahms pointed to the broken remains of the mirror as he informed you, “There’s a first aid kit in the walls, just go straight left until you see it.” While you were a bit surprised to hear him telling you to walk in the walls, you figured it wasn’t the strangest part of your evening thus far. You promised him you would be right back and climbed up through the frame of the mirror, starting left just as he told you. You reached the kit in just a few minutes, glancing at the blood wiped along the walls. Why was there not a single soul to help this man when he clearly needed it? What had even happened in the first place? You filed these questions away for later as you slunk back the way you came. You had one hand on the wall, careful to go straight ahead through the darkened halls. You quickly came back to where the lights from the living room cast through the broken mirror, and you just as carefully made your way back out of the walls. 

Brahms was dragging himself towards the couch about two [yards/meters] away, and it made you feel in your bones that this man was full of bad ideas and stubbornness. You hustled over to help him, saying to him, “Brahms! I could’ve helped you. Oh please be careful-” He’d made it to the couch, and only then did he turn to you and ask if you could help him onto the furniture. You let him use your body as a crutch as he lifted himself onto the cushions. He released you and sunk back into the softness of the couch, closing his eyes for a moment to regain his breathe. You briefly moved to the kitchen to find some sort of cloth to wet and clean up the mysterious man with. Brahms’ eyes were open by the time you returned. 

You gently settled into the cushions beside him, opening the first aid kit to see what you had to work with: gauze, painkillers, medical tape, suturing equipment, a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, butterfly strips, and some antibiotics. You prepared yourself, and decided you should probably warn Brahms. You mumbled, “I have to clean it, and I might have to put some stiches in. Is that okay, Brahms?” Another surprise, being asked if it was alright for you to touch him. He had a feeling that you were just one big string of surprises, but interestingly enough he wanted to see what you would do next. He nodded his assent, and you set to carefully removing the dressing he had applied earlier. It was a relatively small hole compared to what you were expecting, but it still looked rather deep. You started by lightly scrubbing at the dried blood, cleaning up his skin before moving on to the wound itself. You found some cotton pads in the kit and dabbed some of the hydrogen peroxide on to it. “It may sting a little, Brahms, I’m sorry. But It’ll help keep it clean and healthy okay?” you informed him, your brow furrowed slightly. “It’s alright, I understand. I’ll be a good boy,” he whispered back to you, his tired mind and body aching to be good, to be taken care of. You nodded and returned to the task at hand, carefully pressing the cotton bad to the hole in his chest. He hissed as it burned, but he stayed still like a good boy. You winced with him, knowing it felt awful. Finally you pulled the pad away, blotchy with watery pink spots. The man next to you breathed a sigh of relief once you pulled the pad away. You examined the wound closer, trying to determine if it needed stitches. It was a pretty small surface area, but it seemed deep enough. It’s also important to mention that you weren’t a certified medical professional, and you had no idea what qualified for stitches. 

You remembered the butterfly strips, deciding that would be a good compromise. You grabbed the antibiotic tubes, using your (thoroughly sterilized) finger to smooth the jelly over Brahms’ wound. After that was taken care of, you used a single butterfly strip to hold the wound closed, then covered it with a bandage. You stood up and stepped back to critique your work, deciding to deem it passible. “Alright Brahms, I think that’s the best I can do for now. Good job for sitting through that,” you praised him, and it certainly helped him to feel better. “Thank you, Y/N,” he offered, his voice still high but not quite as high as it was before. You sat back down next to him, and he turned to watch you. A few moments later, your broke the silence to ask, “Do you mind telling me what happened here?” 

//Finite. Squeeee I hope y’all like it!! Looking at the gifs of Brahms getting stabbed made me sad, but also made me remember how attractive he is. I really want him to kiss me :((((

Sorry if there are any plot holes, or inaccuracies in either how the events happened compared to the movie or in the medical care. I plan on going into forensics and homicide investigation, and that usually involves more dead bodies than live ones. Also sorry it took me so long, I wanted to make sure it was good!! I gotta put that whole slashussy in there. <333

[yeosatinyngz]

тσкяєν яєqυєѕт мαѕтєяℓιѕт

Main TokRev Masterlist

Fluff~☁️ | Angst~💔 | Yandere~🖤 | Crack Humor~🤪 | Written~📝 | SMAU/Texts~📱 | Suggestive~🔥

➟500 Followers Event 🥳🎉

➟Sarcastic reader who unintentionally curses a lot (Bonten Trio) 🤪📝

➟You’re the one that I want (Haitani Ran) ☁️📝

➟Catching reader dancing to Kpop (Bonten Trio) ☁️📝

➟Child meets their parent’s teen self Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3☁️📝

➟Get your brother (Sano Shinichiro) ☁️📱

➟How the turn tables (Sano ‘Mikey’ Manjiro) ☁️📝

➟Reacting to reader who’s scared of heights (Shiba Taiju, Ryuguji ‘Draken’ Ken, Hitto Kakucho, Hanma Shuji, Haitani Ran) 📝

➟Comforting reader after a terrible date (Matsuno Chifuyu, Sano ‘Mikey’ Manjiro, Ryuguji ‘Draken’ Ken, Mitsuya Takashi) 📝

➟I want 20 kids (Kurokawa Izana) ☁️📝

➟The awaited confession (Ryuguji ‘Draken’ Ken) ☁️💔📝

➟Comforting reader going through a break up (Matsuno Chifuyu, Baji Keisuke, Hanma Shuji) ☁️📝

➟S/O with BPD (Bonten) 📝

➟INFP Reader (Haitani Ran) ☁️📝

➟S/O that self harms & has depression (Baji Keisuke, Mitsuya Takashi, Matsuno Chifuyu)💔☁️📝

➟Pretty Scar Boy (Inui ‘Inupi’ Seishu) Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 ☁️📝

➟TikTok prank on (Haitani Rindou, Hitto Kakucho, Ryuguji ‘Draken’ Ken) 📝

➟Avoidance (Ryuguji ‘Draken’ Ken) ☁️📝

➟Friends w/ the Pet Shop Trio + Takemichi ☁️📝

➟Failed Flirting Attempts (Kawata ‘Smiley’ Nahoya) ☁️📝

➟The Princess and the Cat (Haitani Ran) ☁️📝

➟ESTP Reader (Haitani Ran) ☁️📝

➟INFJ Reader (Haitani Rindou) ☁️📝

➟Encouraging their S/O to not relapse (Bonten) 📝

➟TikTok prank on (Ryuguji ‘Draken’ Ken, Kawata Nahoya & Souya) 🤪📝

➟INFP Reader (Imaushi Wakasa & Haitani Rindou) ☁️📝

➟ENFJ Reader (Haitani Ran) ☁️📝

➟INFJ Reader (Kokonoi Hajime, Haitani Ran & Rindou) ☁️📝

➟Drunk Confessions (Kurokawa Izana) 💔☁️📝

➟INTJ 8w7 Reader (Bonten Trio) ☁️📝

➟Look at who I just adopted! ☁️📱 (Ryuguji ‘Draken’ Ken, Mitsuya Takashi, Sano Shinichiro, Imaushi Wakasa)

➟ENTJ Reader (Haitani Rindou) ☁️📝

➟Comfort Squad (Toman) ☁️📝

➟INFP Reader (Sano Shinichiro) ☁️📝

➟Secret Admirer (Mitsuya Takashi, Kurokawa Izana, Hitto Kakucho) Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 ☁️💔📝

➟Famous Crackhead (Sano Shinichiro, Imaushi Wakasa, Hitto Kakucho) ☁️📝

➟Watching a horror movie w/ (Toman) ☁️📝

➟INFJ Reader (Kurokawa Izana, Imaushi Wakasa) ☁️📝

➟Girlboss (Sano ‘Mikey’ Manjiro) ☁️💔📝

➟Oblivious Fools (Matsuno Chifuyu) ☁️📝

➟INFP Manga Artist (Haitani Rindou) ☁️📝

➟Bi Reader w/ a preference towards women (Haitani Ran, Sano ‘Mikey’ Manjiro, Hitto Kakucho, Kurokawa Izana) 📝

➟ENFP Reader (Mitsuya Takashi & Haitani Rindou) ☁️📝

➟Kawata Twin’s Older Sibling (Kawata ‘Smiley’ Nahoya & ‘Angry’ Souya) ☁️📝

➟Special-grade sorcerer Reader (Kurokawa Izana, Hitto Kakucho, Inui Seishu, Haitani Rindou & Ran) ☁️📝

➟INTP Reader w/ autism (Haitani Rindou & Ran, Kurokawa Izana) ☁️📝

➟ENFP Reader (Matsuno Chifuyu) ☁️📝

➟INTJ Reader (Sano Shinichiro) ☁️📝

➟ENTJ Reader (Haitani Ran) ☁️📝

➟Juicy, like my husband (Haitani Rindou) ☁️🤪🔥📝

➟Starry night (Haitani Rindou) ☁️📝

➟Their reaction to their S/O that struggles with making friends (Kawata ‘Smiley’ Nahoya, Haitani Rindou, Hanemiya Kazutora) ☁️📝

➟S/O that swears 24/7 (Haitani Ran, Kawata ‘Smiley’ Nahoya, Sano ‘Mikey’ Manjiro, Shiba Taiju) 📝

➟A brother’s wrath (Haitani Ran) 📝

➟Reaction to his S/O dancing to a BTS song (Sano ‘Mikey’ Manjiro) ☁️📝

➟Comforting reader with exam stress (Hanemiya Kazutora, Haitani Rindou & Ran) ☁️📝

➟Youngest Haitani (Haitani Rindou & Ran) 📝

➟Them reacting to South being a caring older brother (Hanagaki Takemichi, Ryuguji ‘Draken’ Ken, Sano ‘Mikey’ Manjiro, Baji Keisuke) 📝

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Of all the criticisms that Marvel/the MCU gets, the one I can’t get behind is the “aimlessness” critique. Maybe this is just me, but I like world-building and getting to explore different characters. I also like how each project since Phase 3 has been its own thing, whether it’s a take on wuxia, a Christmas adventure, a horror movie, or a spy thriller. But the fact that so many people are clamoring for the next big team-up is...well, it feels disappointing. 

For me, it feels like people aren’t really trying to watch the content. Instead, it’s watching the content in order to get hints of what the next big content will be. I saw this a lot when Ms. Marvel dropped the M word. The whole discussion about the show just became about the future of the X-Men instead of discussing what actually was shown in the show, like the exploration of the Partition or Kamala’s coming-of-age journey.

Along the same lines of “aimlessness”, it annoys me immensely whenever I scroll through the Marvel subreddits and see that people aren’t sure who the “main character” is of Phase 4 and 5. Because, yes, even though multiple heroes are getting their own titles, the MCU absolutely needs to have a main character (this is sarcasm). I don’t want to drop the r*a*c*i*s*t word, or even the s/e/x/i/s/t word because that might be an overblown statement...but I’m not gonna lie, it’s a little uncomfortable that people are looking at the current roster of heroes and going, “None of them feel like the main character!”

It’s just...ugh. I hate how a lot of discussions I’m seeing in the Marvel fandom are about wondering what the next major event crossover is instead of just enjoying the actual content. I don’t really care about Moon Knight becoming an Avenger, I care more about how Marc and Steven will react when they learn about Jake. Does that make sense?

Not to say that I’m not excited about the 2025 Avengers movies, because I am. It just feels like people are so desperate to have that Infinity War/Endgame experience again that we aren’t actually enjoying the content anymore. And by the way, crossover event fatigue is an actual thing! That’s what happened in the comics! Just saying.

[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!

[natperv]

I loved your Kate fic and need more content of her from you!! Could I request an argument with Kate turns into her and reader’s first time (lots of tension and top! Kate bc I can’t picture her as anything else lol)

a/n: this took ages to write because i suddenly realized i forgot how to write good smut😭😭i’m sorry if it Sucks i would love some Genuine feedback in the comments on how to improve my writing !! i hope you enjoyed this anon sorry it took so long okay

priorities

fem!reader x soft top!kate

genre: smut!! some angst!! 18+

warnings: arguing, fingering (r receiving), teasing, some short-lived edging, overstim if you squint really bad

word count: 2.2k

you let out a bored sigh as the clock struck midnight. you have officially been waiting here for six hours, having arrived at 6pm for your designated movie night, which kate promised she'd be here for. you lounged on the sofa, staring at the ceiling and eating cold dumplings from a white container. you wish you could find it in you to be surprised, but she's done this often enough that you would have been more shocked if she actually showed up on time. the more humiliating thing was you really did want her to be there, you held your breath the whole time, pacing around the living room, jumping off the couch at every sound that erupted from the hallway. it was two hours ago that you gave up. and you would have gone home, but you were itching for an explanation. an excuse. the part of you that had grown resentful towards kate’s treatment was searching for any reason to leave, and you were trying so badly to hold it back.

movie night had been you and kate's favorite weekly event since you got together. the two of you longed for it, picking out a trashy romcom or a badly made horror movie and spending hours in each other's arms, making fun of the rigid plots and ridiculous characters. tonight was different, though. you had ordered takeout for dinner and set it up in her living room, candles were bought and lit, you even wore your favorite, most revealing dress. the two of you had been dating for nearly three months, and she was yet to go any further than a heated make out session. one time, she slipped her hand up your shirt and unhooked your bra before you were, very rudely, interrupted by clint and yelena. you have to believe she’s too oblivious to actually tease and bait you on purpose, which means she’s waiting for you to make the first move. and this was it. your move.

you spent the evening daydreaming about all the things kate could do to you once you gave her the chance. she was an incredible kisser. what else could she do with that tongue? it reached the point where you started getting overly enthusiastic, creating a million different scenarios in your head, the hundreds of ways she could take you. this is what happens when you’re left to your own devices in kate’s empty, boring apartment for six hours. you didn’t want to leave. you couldn’t, not now, when you’re so close to getting what you want. the wait was starting to frustrate you in more ways than one. so, when she walked through the front door--bow on her back, her hair cascading down her shoulders like a black waterfall, you didn’t know whether to rip her clothes off or slap her across the face. 

she set her keys down, unaware of your presence until you spoke, getting to your feet. “kate.” your tone was sharp. when she turns around, her eyes widen. she subconsciously lets her eyes linger down your body, your neckline was plunging, leaving very little to the imagination. the tight, black garment didn’t even make it past your knees, stopping halfway down your thighs. you clear your throat, feeling brush creep up your neck despite yourself, and cross your arms over your chest to alter her view as some kind of punishment. she blinks and for a second, it looks like she has no idea why you’re here, “ohh, oh, no, no, no,” she presses her palms together and brings them to her lips like she’s praying, “..i completely forgot about tonight.” she winces, preparing for your reaction. you scan her face, the desperation in her blue eyes. her cheeks are littered with cuts, but they’re also bandaged, which means she spent some time at clint’s before she got here. 

“right, you forgot again,” you spoke, rolling you eyes, “i’m not falling for that shit.” you walk over to her coffee table and start collecting your things, although you had no intention of leaving quite yet. she waves her hands frantically. “wait, wait, stop,” she walks further into the room, “okay, i was.. admittedly, a little late-” you interrupt, “six hours, kate!” she scrunches her nose, something she does when she’s trying to make up an excuse, “a lot late, but i-i--” she points towards the window at the street downstairs, “i was helping people, banks were getting robbed, children were being.. kidnapped, and vandals.. well vandals were..” she purses her lip as she searches for a word, “lurking.” you stare at her in disbelief. “you have got to be kidding me.”

“i’m not, i’m not, it’s--what, y/n, it’s a busy job, i can’t exactly take the night off,” she exhales when she says this, you can tell she’s convinced she’s done nothing wrong, “and..” she finally takes an opportunity to observe the room, the extinguished candles, half opened boxes of chinese food, “what is all this anyways, i thought we were just watching a movie?” you furrow your brows, embarrassed that you even bothered, “it was for you, asshole.” you speak, visibly unhappy, “you could have called,” you feel a sinking weight in your chest, “you could have at least canceled. but you didn’t,” you motion with your hands as you speak, “i didn’t even cross your mind, and i haven’t, for weeks you’ve been bailing on me over and over.”

something in the expression on kate’s face falters, but she holds her ground. “i understand you’re upset--i just--i don’t get why this has to be such a thing--” you pass a tense hand across your face, “because!” you grab a pillow off the sofa and throw it at her, watching her eyes widen in shock as it flops uselessly to the floor. “you’re pissing me off, kate!” you feel your voice crack at the intensity. you were tired of giving your all to someone who constantly put you second. kate licks her bottom lip to hide how much you’re bothering her. being upset is one thing, but is it really so deep you have to throw a pillow at her? damn. “y/n, you’re not being fair,” she sidesteps the pillow on the floor and moves further into the room, standing closer to you as she speaks, “i can’t control when people need me, i just--i’m new to this, i’m doing the best i can,” she runs a hand through her hair. “what more do you want?” 

“i wish you would pick me for once,” you look up to meet her eyes and are taken aback at how close they are, “show me you care about me.” the space between you is so little, you’re inclined to take a step backwards, but it only urges her closer. "i don’t want to pick at all, why does there have to be a choice--why does anybody have to pick anything, can’t i just want both?--” she speaks with a new severity in her tone, inching nearer and nearer, you’re not even sure she notices. with every step she takes forward you start to take one backward until you suddenly find your back colliding with the wall, her palms flat on your chest to keep you in place. does she notice she’s basically groping you? your heart stammers and you look down at them frantically. she follows your gaze, “oh--shoot, oh, i’m sorry.” she pulls her hands away, now unsure what to do with them, wincing at how awkward she’s made things. you secretly wish she’d just keep them there, take control, grab you and put you in your place.

she steadies herself. “you--” she starts, but her eyes are anywhere but your face. she swallows, the hollow of her throat rising and falling as she stares at your body. “you know how important being a superhero is to me--” you laugh, dryly, leaning your head back against the wall, “oh, i know!” your neckline was so low that kate had a perfectly good view of your chest, flushed, tinted red all over from the screaming. it rose up and down as you argued. “trust me, you remind me of how important your job is everyday--” you can smell her whole night on her collarbone. remnants of her missions always stuck to her flesh and left their mark when she was done. “--more important than me, more important than our relationship--and--” her proximity to you clouds your thoughts, you have to pause between sentences to stop looking at her lips. “and, i-i get it, but i’m sick of being your last priority.” you huff, finally meeting her eyes, the look in them entirely foreign. it doesn’t escape you, either, that her breathing pattern is starting to match yours: erratic and wild.

everything is still and quiet for a second. she licks her lips again, “y/n--” you don’t let her finish. you can’t control yourself. you grip her coat collar and bring her to you. your lips crash together and the kiss that follows is like nothing you’d ever experienced before, not with kate, not with anyone. a fluttering feeling runs down your body and settles in the center of your stomach. her tongue skates along your bottom lip and you part it willingly as your hands move from her coat, one burying itself in her hair while the other cups her cheek, pulling her even closer to you. you let out a stifled moan into her mouth as she nips at your lip, her leg settles between your thighs and you fight the urge to buck against it.

you pant when she leaves your lips and moves to your neck, stealing messy, hysterical kisses, and then your ear where she runs her teeth along the cartilage, threatening to bite down. when she suddenly pulls away you nearly gasp at the loss of warmth. “is this--are we really doing this?” your mind is so hazy from the kissing, your lips puffy and red, all you can do is nod feverishly like a crazy person and drag her back to you. she pushes you harder against the wall and her hands travel down to the space between your thighs. “you’re already so wet.” her voice is hoarse against your neck, sending jolts of electricity down your spine.

she teases a little bit, cupping your cunt over the fabric with the palm of her hand. you groan, “kate.” you plead, desperate to feel her inside you. she chuckles, sliding a hand under your dress to cup your tits. you arch into her, trying to buck against her hand, searching for any ounce of friction. she teases, her fingers pinching your nipples. you whimper, “what is it?” she speaks pleasantly, “what do you need?” she teases even further, your panties already damp. “i need—” you gulp as you gather whatever critical thinking you have left, “you.. your fingers.” you feel her smirk against your neck as she pulls your underwear aside and slides a finger inside you, your body accommodating her instantly. you let out a moan so loud you nearly slap a hand across your mouth to stop it. “harder,” you beg. “one more.”

“you sure?” she sounds genuine, you nod, “yes. god, just fuck me.” you finally say it, not caring how it sounds. she inserts another digit, pounding into you relentlessly. the sound of your wetness films the room, “yes, god, right there.” she kisses your neck, working your tits with her free hand, “i think about this all the time,” she speaks, her voice the only anchor in your lustful blur, “you feel so much better than i imagined.” she uses her thumb to rub against your clit and you buck your hips further against her, delirious, just desperate for an orgasm. “fuck, i’m so close—” she stops, abruptly, leaving you feeling empty, “no, baby, no, no, keep going.” she laughs at you, “do you know how hot you sound right now?” you whimper as you arch against her again, trying to get whatever you can. “you’re so impatient.” her voice is so sweet, you can’t believe the words leaving her mouth. “now ask nicely.”

“please..” you gasp as she brushes a finger against your core, “please, what?” you shut your eyes. “please, make me cum.” she hums in agreement, finally thrusting two fingers into you, angled to hit that perfect spot—a spot you didn’t even know you had. you writhe against her, knees week, her thumb finds your clit once more, stroking it. you sense the orgasm wash over you in waves, and she fucks you through it, only stopping when your body's shaking and you’re just about ready to collapse against her.

she pulls her fingers out, slowly, bringing them to her lips and cleaning them off. you eye her in awe, still a little delirious. she smiles, it’s a genuine smile, like she’s excited, and it confuses you how she can be so sexy without even trying. she cups your cheek and sets a kiss against the side of your forehead. “i’m sorry.” you laugh, falling against her chest as she surrounds you in a hug, “i’m sorry too.”

“stay the night.” she hums, stroking your hair.

later, the two of you sit on her sofa. you’re in a pair of her boxer briefs and a baggy t-shirt with an illustration of the avengers logo on it. she points at the screen lets out a loud laugh at something. you grin, leaning further into her.

[saltysaltines3]

my headcanons for every crk cookie

i honestly don't know why i'm doing this, or why i'm doing it on tumblr seeing as i never post here, but i had this idea and i'm doing it now so yay? only doing playable characters, though (with some exceptions). you will probably be able to tell which cookies i've fixated on LOL. writing these out i realised that i get very influenced by my own view of the crk universe as a broken, run down world with habitants who don’t remember what it used to be like or who they used to be. also, i haven’t gotten through world 11 yet, so my headcanons might not compleeetely comply with canon (or might BE canon lmao). anyways they're all below the cut, in alphabetical order :) NOT SPOILER FREE!

Adventurer Cookie:

Dislikes the mansion because it makes him feel trapped.

Regularly asks for Blackberry Cookie’s opinion on things, and then always does the complete opposite.

Affogato Cookie:

Loved gossip as a kid, which taught him a lot about social skills and psychology (more than he’d like to admit).

A big part of his dislike for Caramel Arrow Cookie stems from jealousy.

Alchemist Cookie:

Helped her brother discover that juice/wine works as a substitute for jam.

Chemically produces a ration of wine for him every month.

Worries about her brother a lot and dislikes that he drinks so often. Is researching other substitutes for jam.

Fends off vampire hunters, and in return her brother fends off alchemy-deniers.

Almond Cookie:

Would be really good friends with Espresso Cookie if they spoke more. They’ve met a few times through Latte Cookie, but not enough to have a full conversation. Ironically, both are too busy and burnt out to make time for making friends.

Never fails to show up to any of Latte Cookie or Cream Puff Cookie’s important life events, always completely on time.

Angel Cookie:

Secretly likes to creep people out.

Horror movie enjoyer.

Used to be best friends with Devil Cookie when both were angels, before Devil was corrupted. Still trusts them.

Avocado cookie:

Knits in her spare time.

Is really good with children because of her motherly/big sisterly vibe.

Beet Cookie:

Is very easily startled, but hides it.

Has a crush on Carrot Cookie.

Black Raisin Cookie:

Was lonely as a child, which led to her making friends with the crows.

Sometimes misses the days when ‘Healer Cookie’ and her could spend more time together.

Is very grateful to Pure Vanilla Cookie, often doing favors for him despite him telling her there is no need.

Blackberry Cookie:

Has trouble expressing her feelings.

Has been able to see ghosts from birth. Took the job at the mansion because there were so many ghosts residing there, and she wanted to help them.

Is distantly related to Onion Cookie and acts as her big sister.

Wants Onion Cookie to experience a happy childhood, which is why she has not told Onion that she’s a ghost.

Caramel Arrow Cookie:

Despite her hatred for Affogato Cookie, she considers him part of the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Believing there is still good in him, she would still protect him if the kingdom was attacked by outside forces.

Carrot Cookie:

Loves watching cooking shows.

Good friends with Herb Cookie.

Secretly admires Beet Cookie’s hunting skill.

Cherry Blossom Cookie:

Has prevented multiple murders related to her sister’s cherry bombs.

The older sister.

Thinks its extremely cute that Werewolf Cookie reacts to commands instinctively.

Knows what it’s like to be feared because of her sister’s past, and wants to help Werewolf not go through the same thing.

Cherry Cookie:

Knows a lot about making and storing food due to her sister’s love for picnics.

The younger sister.

Used to be feared by everyone before her and her sister moved to a new place.

Chili Pepper Cookie:

Took care of Custard Cookie III until Pure Vanilla Cookie was found. Now, she acts as his big sister, but isn’t his primary caretaker anymore.

Can’t tell if she has a crush on Rye Cookie or if she hates her.

Clotted Cream Cookie:

(Honestly I know next to nothing about him)

Probably extremely lonely + has really bad trust issues.

Clover Cookie:

Has obsessive tendencies.

Creeps people out by accident a lot.

Extremely close friends with Herb Cookie. They know almost everything about each other, have sleepovers regularly etc.

Has written a song about every one of his crushes, but never performs them out of fear of being creepy.

Has developed intense feelings for Herb Cookie and is terrified of them.

Cocoa Cookie:

Has an addictive personality.

Good friends with Cherry Blossom Cookie.

Brings hot cocoa everywhere, literally. Loves bringing it to Cherry Blossom’s picnics and letting other people try it.

Cotton Cookie:

Mourns Sherbet Cookie and still has a crush on him even though he’s gone.

Initially tried to earn enough money to cure Sherbet of his disease.

Has named all of her sheep and cares for them as pets.

Would make good friends with Red Velvet Cookie if they met.

Thinks that Snow Sugar Cookie reminds her of Sherbet Cookie, which sometimes unnerves her. Since they’re part of the same friend group, she has learned ro deal with it.

Cream Puff Cookie:

Gifted Kid 100%.

Doesn’t actually know what her goal as a wizard is.

Met Wizard Cookie after her graduation and became good friends with him.

Custard Cookie III:

Custard Cookie is his dad, but he didn’t have time to take care of his son as an elder in the Créme Republic council.

Pure Vanilla Cookie is his great-grandfather (or perhaps even more distant, but still his grandfather of some kind).

Doesn’t remember much from before he met Gingerbrave.

Was neglected when younger, which is where his wish to be a ruler (who gets paid attention to) stems from.

Hangs out with Pancake Cookie sometimes.

Dark Cacao Cookie:

Would 100% forgive his son if he returned and apologised in present day.

Was in love with Pure Vanilla Cookie back in their glory days, but these feelings have faded with time.

Dark Choco Cookie:

Cares deeply about the other followers of Dark Enchantress, even if they don’t care much about him.

Devil Cookie:

Has been spooked by Angel Cookie more times than they’d like to admit.

Absolutely despises actual horror of any kind.

They really want to successfully prank Angel Cookie, but Angel has never fallen for a single one. Devil doesn’t remember why, but the dynamic feels familiar.

Eclair Cookie:

Loves to visit thrift stores.

Scolds other cookies with bad posture, but only because he cares about their health.

Espresso Cookie:

Gets anxious around new people, especially those he finds pretty or interesting. Acts cold to hide it.

Wears drugstore makeup. Especially glittery lip gloss.

Latte Cookie’s twin brother.

Fig Cookie:

Music lover, appreciates all kinds of music.

Goes to all music performances possible, but would never dream of performing themselves due to stage fright.

Storytelling doesn’t feel like a performance to them; they’re just telling stories to whoever wants to listen.

Frost Queen Cookie:

Is horribly upset that she lost her memories, because if she’d known, she would’ve found her friend and told them what she knows now about the ‘disease’. When her memories returned, her friend was already dead.

Gingerbrave:

Regularly thinks about his brother, Dozer, who didn’t manage to escape from the oven.

Secretly empathises with Dark Enchantress Cookie.

Pretends to be happy, even when he’s not.

Gumball Cookie:

Has synesthesia of the olfactory/gustatory-visual kind, as well as the spatial-sequence kind. Doesn’t know that others don’t perceive things the same way as him.

Gets annoyed when things don’t match his vision.

Herb Cookie:

Mostly listens to heavy metal and classical music.

Very friendly and loving. Gives many hugs.

Emotionally repressed.

VERY talkative, but keeps the topic away from himself/his own problems. Asks a lot of questions and small talks while also being extremely good at knowing when to be silent and listen carefully.

Makes + sells his own tea and is an expert on what kind works when and with what meal/dessert.

Clover Cookie is the only person who can make him open up about his feelings (after some prying).

Has a long-time crush on Clover Cookie, but confuses it for platonic feelings and doesn’t want to accept that it could be romantic.

Easily hurt by mean customers. Luckily, he doesn’t get many.

Hollyberry Cookie:

Was heavily encouraged to stay inside, where she’d be safe, as a child.

Did not fit the royal, “proper”, lifestyle even though she tried when she was younger. Now has the ability to act, battle and explore as she pleases.

Knight Cookie:

Used to fancy Princess Cookie, but doesn’t anymore.

Was shown more kindness by the royal court (and Princess Cookie) than anyone else, which is why he joined.

Kumiho Cookie:

Wishes for friends who would like her just for being her, instead of followers that are in love with her due to her powers.

Acts flirty because it’s all she knows how to do and she’s scared of letting others in.

Struggles to learn cookie etiquette.

Sometimes loses control of her form when very excited or very relaxed, turning into her fox form by accident.

Misses her old spirit friends from time to time.

Feels extreme guilt whenever Pancake Cookie’s allergies flare up, but has vowed to watch over him anyway.

Latte Cookie:

Espresso Cookie’s twin sister.

Sometimes forces her brother to come with her to social gatherings so he gets a break from his research (and leaves his home for once).

It saddens her that Espresso locks himself away so much.

Became friends with Madeleine Cookie after he came to her for advice on how to get closer to Espresso.

Licorice Cookie:

Suffers from low self-esteem and self-image issues.

Cares a lot about Poison Mushroom Cookie.

Lilac Cookie:

Has the best sleep schedule out of all the characters.

Has toyed with the idea of being a ‘reverse assassin’, who when hired, informs the victim of the assassination attempt and protects them from future attempts.

Madeleine Cookie:

Gives really good hugs.

Feels extremely pressured to be the best all the time.

Has Impostor Syndrome.

Mala Sauce Cookie:

Knows how to play the drums.

Would be good friends with Tiger Lily Cookie if they ever met.

Mango Cookie:

Used to be an adrenaline junkie, primarily performing stunts like bungee jumping.

Distantly related to dragons.

Milk Cookie:

Has a celebrity crush on Dark Choco Cookie.

Becomes extremely defensive if anyone tries to tell him about Dark Choco’s affiliation with Dark Enchantress.

Is the only one who can handle Purple Yam Cookie’s temper.

Hates empty promises.

Mint Choco Cookie:

Is in love with Cocoa Cookie.

Feels that his performances/playing in general is dull when Cocoa isn’t listening.

Sometimes wishes he never picked up the violin, before beating himself up over having those kinds of thoughts.

In desparate need of a break from playing the violin.

Moon Rabbit Cookie:

Is actually a hungry spirit.

Often hangs out with Pancake Cookie.

Muscle Cookie:

Didn’t want to get into bodybuilding, but was forced to by his fitness-obsessed father.

Ninja Cookie:

Looks up to Lilac Cookie.

Onion Cookie:

Died because she got locked inside the tower while playing hide and seek.

The other children weren’t actually searching for her, they just told her they were going to play so they could be rid of her.

One of the kids was actually her friend, but was too afraid to go against the group. The whole group was horrified to find out that Onion had gone missing, and likely died, because of them.

The reason clocks go backwards near Onion is because her wish is to have a good, proper childhood, and she’s subconsciously trying to return to her time.

If she realises she is dead, she will pass on, because she will then know she cannot have an actual childhood seeing as she doesn’t age.

Pancake Cookie:

Has problems with eczema, which is a big reason he always wears a onesie.

Often plays with Kumiho Cookie (in her fox form) in spite of his allergies. Sometimes he’ll have purchased medicine for them, but he can’t always afford it.

Parfait Cookie:

After her debut, she slowly moved towards becoming a solo j-pop idol.

At some point, she took a break from her music career to avoid burnout. During this time, she went undercover to a bar and met Twizzly Gummy Cookie. They quickly became close friends, and Parfait found herself in a small friend group with cookies who all performed on the side.

Sometimes performs with Twizzly Gummy Cookie, Sea Fairy Cookie, and Mala Sauce Cookie. Twizzly Gummy on the bass, Sea Fairy as backing vocals + synth and Mala Sauce on the drums.

Pastry Cookie:

Watches anime (somewhat of a closet weeb), even if the Order doesn’t really allow it.

Lost all her memories of her past life when she was rebaked for the Order. Currently trying to find out more about her past after starting to doubt the Order’s teachings.

Poison Mushroom Cookie:

Doesn’t actually know Dark Enchantress’ goal.

Tries to cheer Licorice Cookie up when his struggles become apparent.

Pomegranate Cookie:

Had a celebrity crush on, and looked up to, White Lily Cookie when she was younger. She gave it up when her destiny was prophesied and instead fell in love with Dark Enchantress Cookie.

Her prophecy caused her to be ostracised from her community, making it very easy to join Dark Enchantress, who showed her kindness.

Later, when Dark Enchantress’ creation was revealed to her, she rekindled her old feelings and interpreted them as proof that she was destined to serve Dark Enchantress.

Princess Cookie:

Takes after her grandmother with her love for adventures.

Sometimes purposefully runs away from Knight Cookie when he becomes too smothering or overprotective.

Is often frustrated that Knight follows her around, watches over her like a hawk and puts her on a pedestal.

Goes looking for Tiger Lily Cookie every now and then, but hasn’t managed to speak to her.

Pumpkin Pie Cookie:

Spent a large portion of her life alone, as other cookies would flee from her due to her uncanny vibes.

Has supernatural properties due to the pumpkin she was made from being enchanted to grow without sunlight.

At a festival, she found Pompon, a seemingly normal inanimate doll. She took them with her everywhere, spoke to them, and genuinely treated them like her best friend. When Pompon saw how other cookies reacted to Pumpkin Pie, they were furious, and started intimidating others into giving Pumpkin Pie a chance.

Eventually found out about Pompon being alive. She was ecstatic to see it.

Pure Vanilla Cookie:

Cannot forgive himself for what happened to White Lily Cookie, and for the entire Dark Flour War. Sees himself as the catalyst for it all.

Appears perfect, almost divine, in his ruling. This, combined with his guilt, has caused him to have Impostor Syndrome, fearing that he will be revaled as imperfect, or that his part in the war will be found out. To combat this, he tries to be even more perfect, ultimately creating a downwards spiral.

Regularly volunteers at a locka cake hound rescue shelter.

Had a crush on White Lily back when they were students.

Is comforted by Dark Cacao Cookie when his guilt gets extra bad or when he’s filled with grief over White Lily. At some point, his grief dulled, which sent him into a guilt-episode.

Has a crush on Dark Cacao, which he realised after being comforted during said guilt-episode.

Purple Yam Cookie:

Wants to be friends with Strawberry Cookie.

Got the idea of using a sledge/club-like weapon from Strawberry.

Raspberry Cookie:

Hates cheaters more than anything.

While competitive, wouldn’t mind having a civil conversation with a rival over a cup of tea.

Hangs out with Cherry Cookie sometimes. 

Red Velvet Cookie:

Feels like he should be thankful to Dark Enchantress Cookie for giving him his arm and taking him in, but can’t always bring himself to be.

Wanted to watch over Strawberry Crepe Cookie himself because he knew Dark Enchantress wasn’t suited to provide care (source: his own childhood). Dark Enchantress just brushed him off, like usual.

Sometimes doubts if Dark Enchantress’ plan is really the best way to achieve his own personal goal.

Like the rest of Dark Enchantress’ followers, he finds solace in his fellow servants of the Darkness.

Rye Cookie:

Chili Pepper’s opinion of her is mutual.

Has no volume control when speaking.

Has a celebrity crush on Parfait Cookie and is her #1 fan.

Sea Fairy Cookie:

(Basically canon already, but,) has a crush on Moonlight Cookie.

Sings to herself quite often, and has performed a few times as well when a backup singer was needed.

Turned Sorbet Shark Cookie into a cookie when they disappeared into the sea as a shark.

Washed Squid Ink Cookie onto shore after they reverted into cookie form, without their memories.

Generally took (and still takes) care of cookies she likes while they’re at sea.

Snow Sugar Cookie:

Is in a friend group with Cotton Cookie and Cocoa Cookie.

Distantly related to Frost Queen Cookie, or just Frost Cookie.

Frost Queen left the staff for them, despite Frost Queen not knowing why she was drawn to them at the time.

Sorbet Shark Cookie:

Made friends with Squid Ink Cookie a really long time ago, while they were still a regular shark.

They still sometimes talk to Squid Ink like they’re old friends, which Squid Ink appreciates even though they don’t remember Sorbet Shark Cookie. 

Becomes very excited whenever they find other cookies who can stand to be submerged in water, as it means they can communicate with them through speech.

Sparkling Cookie:

Tries to play matchmaker sometimes. It’s a hit or miss kinda thing.

Always invites Vampire Cookie to his parties, no matter how fancy, because he livens up the mood.

Good friends with Herb Cookie, but doesn’t invite him to parties (or out in general) very often since he knows Herb doesn’t like crowds or attention.

Has worked with Mint Choco Cookie a lot, both as entertainment at his own parties and as the planner for Mint Choco’s venues.

Is extremely sick of maintaining his looks, doesn’t know how much longer he can go on doing it.

Squid Ink Cookie:

Was known as the Giant Squid of the Deep Sea until one particularly difficult attack, when they became too tired to maintain their giant squid form and took on their smaller cookie form.

As they don’t remember anything between forms, they don’t know how to transform back or that they have the ability to, even though they have enough energy to do so. They do it by accident when scared, but quickly revert back as the transformation was triggered by a temporary emotion.

Likes when other cookies speak to them and take an interest in them.

Strawberry Cookie:

Wishes Gingerbrave would open up to her, as she feels he’s hiding something.

Is very, very distantly related to Strawberry Crepe Cookie.

Strawberry Crepe Cookie:

Desperately wants someone to stick with them and not leave. They test everyone they meet for perseverance, and also subconsciously out of fear that everyone will leave them, so it’s better to drive people away before they can get attached, right?

Ran tests on Strawberry Cookie because they were hoping that Strawberry would feel a connection and stick with them, or that they would find similarities in their dough that would warrant such a reaction.

Tried to build a family (and a whole neighbourhood) out of wafflebots.

Has heard of Espresso Cookie and looks up to him a lot, but secretly.

Is often afraid deep down of being overpowered or killed when battling others.

Tea Knight Cookie:

Is close friends with Eclair Cookie. Their friendship started out with Eclair following him around, and Tea Knight Cookie begrudgingly letting him do so.

Tiger Lily Cookie:

Wants to talk to Princess Cookie for real, but is too scared of the potential danger in being found.

Has a really high EQ.

Ended up in the jungle because one of the royals wanted Princess Cookie to be the sole inheritor of the throne, and attempted to get Tiger Lily Cookie killed.

Twizzly Gummy Cookie:

Licorice Cookie’s sister in another dimension.

Constantly understimulated.

On days where her energy level is a bit lower, she practices playing electric guitar and singing. Sometimes she performs as well.

Has performed together with Mala Sauce Cookie in her own dimension.

Travels between her own dimension and ‘our’ dimension regularly when she isn’t adventuring. 

After being defeated by Mala Sauce countless times, the two have become frenemies and Twizzly Gummy has started hanging out with her (and other cookies in the same dimension).

Vampire Cookie:

Is not doing well mentally.

Used to live in fear of the police due to his diet, before his sister made her discovery about wine.

Perpetually anxious, low on energy and motivation. After discovering wine could be used as a substitute for jam, he’s been using alchohol as an unhealthy coping mechanism.

Worries that others won’t like him when he’s sober.

Thinks Herb Cookie is cute, but is certain he doesn’t have a shot.

Werewolf Cookie:

Can sense others’ intentions practically as soon as he meets them. Always checks and verifies new people in the background so that his friend group doesn’t fall for any tricks.

Is extremely protective of his close friends, Kumiho Cookie, Tiger Lily Cookie and Vampire Cookie.

Bickers with Vampire Cookie a lot, but in a friendly way.

Has more recently started becoming friends with more cookies (’The Best Spring Picnic Ever’ Event). Specifically Cherry Blossom Cookie, Custard Cookie III, Parfait Cookie and Rye Cookie. Seeing how they accepted him, he’s gained just a speck of hope that he won’t be ostracised for being a werewolf. He’s still worried that he’ll transform and hurt them, though.

Got a tiny crush on Cherry Blossom after she saw through him, included him and stood up for him. Enjoys her company, as much as he tells himself he doesn’t. 

White Lily Cookie:

Wants to apologise to Pure Vanilla Cookie (primarily, but also their other friends and everyone else as well). Can’t because shes buried deep in Dark Enchantress’ mind.

Her dough contains a toxin from white lilies (madonna lilies, lilies of the valley).

One of her motivations for going through with her research/experiments, aside from curiousity, was that she wanted to be loved by everyone just like Pure Vanilla. 

Was extremely lonely, even in her glory days. Her only friends were Pure Vanilla and his friend circle. This gave her a lot of time to study and experiment.

Does still exist, just as a part of Dark Enchantress. She doesn’t know how to gain control or reach out, though. She’s glad her echo could move freely for a bit, at least.

Wizard Cookie:

Is very happy to be in Gingerbrave’s friend group.

Has almost figured out the secret behind Dark Enchantress.

Looks up to White Lily.

Was pretty lonely before he met the Gingerbrave gang.

Having used to be lonely and a bit timid, he gets along well with Strawberry Cookie.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Spooktober Prompt Masterlist 2021

#760: “I wonder, how many people are dead in that graveyard?” “Hopefully all of them…” {Submitted by: crowned-avery}

#761: The meeting with Death went better than they had expected.

#762: Her hair was blacker than the night sky and her skin so pale that it felt like you could see right through her. She looked like she was no longer alive and the unnatural snarl on her face indicated that she may have never been.

#763: They didn't want it to be true, but with time they realized that the whole town continued to have the same nightmare every single night. And now the nightmare seemed to become reality.

#764: Having a high-ranking demon on speed dial did come in handy sometimes.

#765: A magic user wants revenge on a hated enemy. However, the stronger her emotions, the weaker her magic becomes, so in order to carry out her revenge she must let go of her anger. Submitted by: sheherlocked}

#766: If you believe in angels, you have to believe in demons too.

#767: Making out in a graveyard can lead to some very unexpected things.

#768: The abandoned theme park seemed to be the perfect location for their horror movie. But nothing went according to plan.

#769: A group of teenagers film themselves going into a 'haunted' house and try to win a challenge by staying the whole night. In the beginning, they film random spooky events that they themselves had planned to gain followers. But suddenly their little game becomes the harsh reality.

#770: There was a reason why they were called the walking dead, not the running one.

#771: So maybe you weren't supposed to go into town alone. And maybe you weren't supposed to go into suspicious looking pubs in the dead of night. But nothing had ever said you couldn't go disguised as a goblin. {Submitted by: avokadoodoo}

#772: The flower was beautiful and its smell was heavenly. Unfortunately, it was also deadly.

#773: They were paid barely enough to clean out deceased people’s apartments. They were definitely not being paid enough for what they found in this one.

#774: When they tried to dig up the body, to everyone's surprise, it was not empty. There were more bodies in the casket than expected.

#775: There was a howling in the distance, but it was coming closer and closer. Now, it was too late to run.

#776: The small cave they had wanted to explore turned out to be much bigger than expected. They tried to mark their way back, but when they turned around, the symbols they had painted on the walls where gone. And so was their way out of the cave.

#777: They soon realize that not everyone at the Halloween party is actually wearing a costume.

#778: It all started when fresh flowers began to appear at graves and the bereaved swore that it hadn’t been them who put them there. At first, they believed it to be a nice gesture from a stranger, but when every single grave had their flowers and they never seemed to wilt, the people became suspicious.

#779: You’re a modern vampire, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world for a few decades now. Stories of your kind have slowly faded into the background. Most of what people know about vampires is false anyways. You integrate back into society, start attending university, and get a job, and all seems well! Until you start hearing about a modern vampire hunter. {Submitted by: handsome-lovecraftian-horror}

#780: The howling noise grew louder, the closer he got to the end of the lane. One more step and he would know for sure what it was, that he had to face. {Submitted by: ouilah}

#781: “I ordered a grande of human’s blood, not cow, you dimwit.” {Submitted by: avokadoodoo}

#782: “I don’t forget.” “I’m pretty sure even ghosts can forget things too, buddy. But I definitely wouldn’t forget if I killed someone. Get your accusations straight, damn.” {Submitted by: thesaurus-lover}

#783: Animals have the ability to sense things, that shouldn’t exist in the living world. So if you see your pet whimpering at a seemingly empty corner - listen carefully.

#784: When I was younger, I lived up in Alaska where there's usually several feet of snow on the ground when Halloween night arrives. As you can imagine, trick or treating in those conditions took willpower! I was just a kid, of course, but perhaps if I had been aware of what was festering beneath the layers of snow and ice, I may have taken more precautions before going outside those nights... {Submitted by: havvki}

#785: Humans had the tendency to not believe that they were actually dead. And it always took some time to convince them.

#786: "Is that a bowl of rodent bones you're crunching on right now?" "Well, I'm hungry and you didn't offer anything better." {Submitted by: avokadoodoo}

#787: “I’m afraid Death is busy at the moment, but I can put your call through to his wife, Taxes, if you like.” {Submitted by: sheherlocked}

#788: Everything about the move was normal. That was until a stranger starts to call them on their landline. The stranger starts to call hour after hour and frantically speaks in a foreign language. {Submitted by: mxghostbee}

#789: Witches always had a special connection to their surroundings, feeling the power and the pain of nature around them. And right now, she felt like she was stabbed right into her heart. {Submitted by: ouilah}

#790: The maze suddenly appeared on a previously empty field and no one came forward to explain this as some kind of joke. A few kids made a challenge out of it: who was brave enough to go through the maze and come back out at the end? But there was no end to it. And it had been days since the children had been seen and with every day, more people vanished, trying their luck in the maze, desperate to save those who were lost.

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere RE8: TRP Part 4

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Part 3 is here.

Part 5 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"Uhh... hello?"

You looked at the woman standing in the stairs. She was wearing a dark veil that matched the rest of her outfit- oh shit, that's a funeral outfit.

I really did pick a bad time to come here, didn't I? She's in mourning, she sees an intruder, and her day went from bad to worst. Yep, she's gonna kill me.

You took one look at the woman and then at all the possible exits: the doors- no, they'd be too heavy to move and what if they're locked? The window- but I'd have to jump out and just because it looks cool in movies to jump through glass, doesn't mean it'll work, Y/n.

So, the only option was to eliminate the threat. Or maybe... defuse it.

"This is your doll, right?" You asked, pointing at the doll, judging by the lace designs on both of their dresses. The woman didn't reply. "It looks like its been... used a lot. To be honest, she's very different than most dolls I've seen, definitely a lot more spookier." You nervously giggled, hoping she didn't mind. "But... she looks like she's been loved. A lot. Despite being broken from a lot of places, someone still took their time to fix her." You smiled sadly, remembering your own doll that Mia had ripped. "Wish I had someone like that. To sew up the wounds and fix them."You mumbled, not really sure if you were talking about your doll or yourself.

"Your doll, she's- she's very pretty. My sister would've liked her." You began. "Which is why I'm here. My family, we were in an accident- I know it was wrong of me to come here without permission, but I need to find my sister, Rose and my father, Ethan." You took a step closer. "They both of have blonde hair. Rose, my sister, she's just 6 months old. She was dressed in a baby pink onesie, bundled up in a blanket. My father, Ethan, he's about this tall and has big blue eyes. I think he was wearing a jacket, with blue denim jeans. H-have you seen them?" You asked, eyes full of hope and voice laced with eagerness.

Please, please let her have seen them. God, please.

Unsurprisingly, the woman didn't reply, but she did turn her head towards the left window. You didn't know whether she was telling you to get out of her house or signalling that they are out there, but you knew you had to leave.

Nodding, you slowly walked towards the window, your heart beating faster as you prayed that this wasn't some sort of trap, hoping she wouldn't attack you from behind because that would be like... really shitty.

But you left the house unharmed, and without looking back at the window because you didn't want to jinx it, you walked towards the forrest once again, thankful that the sun had finally came out.

Where are you guys?

You had been walking for a couple of hours now, the sun had been a bit warmer today, which was good since you hated the snow that surrounded you now. You looked at the map, tracing the path to your new destination. The Salvatore reservoir. It seemed like it would take you a day's journey to get there, and you sure as hell weren't seeing any lake in sight.

God, when will this nightmare end?

You decided to sit on a stone and take some much needed rest. Your feet ached from all the walking, and your calves were cramping. You rolled your head, popping it from the side, before taking off the rifle that had been weighing down, stretching out your arms. Digging through the little back pack you bought from Duke, you pulled out a thermos of coffee and twinkie. You don't know how or where he got it, but Duke had filled your bag with a couple of snacks; saying its for his loyal customer.

So, here you sat, in the middle of the snowy woods, eating a twinkie and drinking a lukewarm coffee. Both didn't taste good, but they're gonna keep you alive so, no complaining.

After drinking the coffee, you rested your head against a tree, recalling last nights events as you waited for the caffeine to kick in.

You tried to make sense of what happened when you got... locked in the basement. You thought you had forgotten about her, Angel. Guess not.

Wait- didn't that lady lock me in the basement? Maybe, she didn't look very hostile, her creepy doll looked scarier than she did.

You laughed at the irony. You always made fun of the horror movies where the family would become so attached to the most horrifying doll, and you'd scream at their stupidity, And yet here you were, falling for the cliche as you found comfort in that creepy doll.

Man, I'm really losing it here.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you tried to come up with the next plan. But the warm coffee had lulled you right to sleep, which was dangerous but you were too tired to care.

Just for a couple of minutes...

You woke up to the sound of growling and heavy steps. And as soon as you opened your eyes, you knew you had definitely slept for far longer than a few minutes. But that was not of concern at the moment. No, it was the source of the growling that had woken you up.

Just about 40 feet away from you were lycans. Plural. Not one, not two, but 5 lycans, and one of them was a really big one.

You held your breath as you watched them wander around; they hadn't spotted you yet, and if you stayed quiet, you hoped they would just go away.

Stilling yourself as much as you could, you watched them with wide eyes. One of them started to walk in your direction, it wasn't looking at you, which meant that it hadn't seen you, but he would if he kept on walking this way.

God, I know we haven't been on good terms, but like c'mon, you gotta give me a break. Please, I love you? Come on, you know this is not how I want to go.

You sent a silent prayer, and perhaps it worked, since the lycan suddenly turned the other way, joining its pack as they started walking deeper into the woods.

Slowly, you began to gather up your things, silently shoving them in your bag, one eye on the lycans and the other one making sure that you don't accidentally drop something that'd cause noise.

Fortunately, you didn't. You swung the bag over your shoulder, and took a step forward, careful not to step on any twigs.

Maybe God did love me. All that time in church-

THWACK!

You jumped back as a huge sheet of snow fell from the trees in front of you. You whipped your head towards the monsters and they all had stopped dead in their tracks. Slowly, one of them turned and if they hadn't heard the snow fall, they'd definitely heard the way your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Then, it growled.

Motherfucker.

You pulled out your gun just as the two of them began running your way. With a quick jump to the side, you dodged them and shot them two times each. Hearing your gun fire, the other two began running your way too, while the larger one stayed behind as it watched. This time, as you shot one of them, the other managed to kick you in the chest hard, throwing you against the rock. Luckily, you didn't hit your head, as you rolled and shot it dead.

Spitting out the blood, you looked back at the last lycan who had already started running your way. You began loading up your gun with trembling hands, but just as you aimed, the lycan took a giant leap and knocked the gun out of your hand.

Fuck.

The giant grabbed you by your neck, lifting you up high before throwing you across the ground. You wheezed, scrambling up to your feet as you began running away from it, its heavy steps following you. It roared angrily behind you, and that only made you ignore the burning pain in your chest as you ran faster.

But of course, God had decided to make you live a cliche horror movie, because you tripped over a fucking branch, making you fall on your stomach. You flipped over instantly, and saw your nightmare come true as the lycan jumped on you.

On pure reflex, you punched it square in the face, which you doubted hurt it more than it hurt you, if anything, the monster was momentarily perplexed, but that was enough for you to slip from under it.

But you were only able to take a few steps away when it suddenly grabbed you by your neck and lifted you up again, snarling as it began opening its mouth, revealing its razor-sharp teeth at you.

God, if you're hearing this, I'm converting to atheism because I did not need this today.

Looking at the horrifying lycan, you prayed one last time before you were eaten by it. Surprisingly, your life did not flash before your eyes, which you were kinda grateful for because you did not need to relive that before your death.

But that moment didn't came. No, what came were familiar moans of pain, and then the sound of a drill, followed by blood splattering on your face as the lycan was sliced vertically from the head to the toe by the aforementioned drill.

The lycan fell to the ground, revealing the pair of soldats that killed them and behind them a smirking Heisenberg, who rested against a tree, tipping his hat at you.

You were far too shocked to say anything, and after a few seconds, the man walked over to you, blocking the view of his monstrous creations just mutilating the lycans.

"So... that was a bit traumatising." He started, chuckling at your stunned face. "You okay, kid?"

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck-

"Yeah." You took his hand, and he helped you up. You groaned at the pain, touching the tender side around the chest where the lycan had hit you. Yeah, you probably broke a rib.

Heisenberg helped you sit down on a tree stump. "Hmm, that bastard kicked you hard didn't it." Wait- "But that was a phenomenal punch you threw at it. Nearly made me burst out laughing."

"You were watching? Why the fuck didn't you come in before!"

He shrugged. "I just wanted to see if you could really handle yourself- which you were pretty good at, but then you lost your gun and it was kinda an unfair match from there on." He pulled out some pills from his coat. "i was just passing by when I saw those lycans moving away. Thats when I pushed the tree which made snow sheet fall and you know the rest from there on."

Your eyes went wide. "You did that on purpose? What the shit, Heisenberg-?! Fuck." You doubled over in pain, clutching your ribs, heaving.

"Shh, stay still, kid. Here, take these. They'll help with the pain." You eyed the bottle before popping two in your mouth. Hey, if he wanted me dead, he wouldn't have saved me from the lycan. "I just wanted to see if you were worth the trouble, and as it turns out, you are."

"You didn't have to almost kill me to see that. And now I've lost my gun. And I don't have any money to buy a new one. I doubt Duke gives freebies." You huffed out.

Heisenberg rolled his eyes. "God, you sure do whine a lot. Here-" He dropped a tiny pouch in your lap. "There's some coins in there. That should be enough to buy you a new gun. And for fucks sake, get a gun with more rounds! You don't have time to be loading a gun mid battle." He huffed. "So, where are you going now?"

You rolled your head from side to side. "Well, I went to the Beneviento house. Didn't find Ethan or Rose there. Now, I'm going to the lake."

"The lake? Huh, well if you survived Donna, then Moreau should be a piece of cake. You got the map? Let me show you the short cut, it's not far from here." You gave him the map and he showed you the directions.

"Where are you going then?"

"Mother Miranda called. Don't worry, I'll keep our meeting a secret." He then nodded at you. "Alright, I'm off now."

"Wait!" Your voice stopped him. "I don't know when I'll see Duke again. And I don't have gun, so what if another pack of lycans come?"

Heisenberg slumped his shoulders as he let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine. I gotta do everything by myself." He dog whistled and one of the soldats stopped maiming the lycan and ran to Heisenberg. "From now on, you're gonna listen to her."The soldat looked at you and nodded. "If she tells you to kill, you kill. If she tells you to die, you die. Follow her around and keep her safe." The soldat nodded. Then Heisenberg turned to you. "He's already dead, so don't worry about throwing him in danger. Oh and also, just take him into the sun every once in a while so that his engine can recharge. You'll know when he needs the sun."

You were baffled. "Wait, Heisenberg- how the- what the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

"Figure it out, kid. Think of him as a guard dog."

You looked at the soldat then at Heisenberg's retreating form, then back at the soldat.

"So..." The soldat stared at you. "You got a name?"

"Handsome." You nodded to yourself as you trudged, using the soldat's arm to support yourself. "That's what I'm gonna call you. Handsome. What do you think?"

The soldat was wearing a metal contraption over its eyes, so you couldn't really tell what it was feeling.

"Well, you don't seem to have any complaints, so from now on, you'll respond to the name "Handsome". Do you understand?"

The soldat nodded.

You laughed. God, the pain meds were either making me stupid or everything else funnier.

You looked at the map again. Just a couple of more minutes and then a right turn. And then you should see the lake- god, this map was confusing as hell.

"So..." you wondered what you should ask the cyborg. Oh right. "You seen Ethan? Blonde man, crazy big eyes. Or a baby, Rose?" The man shook his head no.

Sigh. What else could I ask him? What about how did he die? No, what if that's triggering? I can't handle a Terminator right now. And I don't think I should ask him about his past or anything that'll cause him to have a existential crisis. Ah! I've got it!

"Hey, how do you see?"

The soldat looks down at you for a few seconds then points at his metal contraption.

Wait- is that sarcasm?

You scoff. "Of course, you see with your eyes! I meant, with the whole metal thingy covering them, how do you- oh, there's this vision specs in them."

You smiled. "Hey, you're kinda like Cyclops, yknow-" you were cut off as Handsome suddenly pushed you to the ground, turning on his drill.

"Wait, shit- you don't have to be Cyclops! We can talk this out-" but Handsome was focusing on something else, and that's when you saw it. Two lycans.

Handsome ran and easily maimed them to pieces, I mean, you had to look away from the horrific scene midway.

The soldat returned five minutes later, covered in blood. He extended his hand and you reluctantly took it, letting him support you as you began walking again, your heart still beating like crazy.

But you calmed down when you finally reached the lake, the setting sun gave serene feel to the entire reservoir. You inhaled deeply before looking at Handsome. "Lets go down there." You pointed at the lake.

You were both sitting at the wooden broadwalk, your legs hanging off the ledge. You looked at the water, it wasn't crystal clear, but you could see some fishes swimming around, so at least it wasn't dangerous to life. You looked at Handsome, then at his drill and you realised he was still covered in blood. "Lets get you cleaned up, hm?" You said, pulling out a rag from your bag and dipping it in the cold water below. You began with cleaning up his drill, then dipping the rag back in cold water and cleaning his chest and his other arm.

"Good job back there, Handsome."You smiled as Handsome nodded. "Heisenberg was right, you are kinda like a dog. Hmm, I wonder if..." You tested your theory as you petted him on the head. "Good job, Handsome!" But the soldat only tilted its head in confusion.

"Hmm, perhaps not." You cupped the cold water in your hands and washed your own face, You looked at your reflection in the water. "You wanna go for a swim? I don't mind." Handsome shook his head. "Yeah, I'm not a fan of swimming either."

Handsome stared at you. You scoffed. "Oh so you pretend you don't understand what I say, but you want to hear the story? Fine, but I'm only telling you because it might be important later."

You both stared at the water as you began your story. "Well, when I was 15, I had snuck out of the house to go to a party. It was at this rich girl's house and I knew she didn't like me, but I was surprised when she had invited me to her place. Yes, a red flag I should've seen from miles ago, but I was young and dumb and desperate to climb the highschool social hierarchy." You chuckled. "Anyways, long story short, one of the guys there pushed me into the pool because I don't know if they thought it was funny to see me drown? By some luck, I managed to grab onto the pool ledge and pull myself up. I immediately left the party, embarrassed and cold and on the verge of breaking down. Then on the way back home, there was this car following me and then some weirdo catcalled me and tried to get me in his car. Now, scared for my life because I watched a lot of Criminal Minds, I ran all the way home, praying that he leaves me alone. I think he stopped when he saw a Range Rover following him, but I don't know. I just rushed back home." You sighed. "You know what happened next? I bursted through the front door, slamming it shut and I turn around to see my dad in the living room, looking surprised to see me. He stood up and looked me up and down and then said, "Y/n? You're drenched completely. And you're messing up the floor. You know what? Mia's in the bathroom right now, why don't you go upstairs and I'll clean up here. You know how she gets when there's water on the wood." And I was just so shocked, that I didn't say anything and went back upstairs. Once I was in the shower, that's when I broke down crying. I almost drowned, almost got kidnapped and my father was worried about me messing up the wooden floor? Hell, he didn't even ask me why I was coming home at midnight." Your tears fell into the lake, making small ripples. You chuckled, "God, I always wondered how tired he must've been from work that day to ignore all these visible signs of distress. I always hated his job, you know? They made him work way too much." You looked at Handsome who was looking at the lake. "Anywho, now you know I can't swim so, save me if I fall into this lake, okay?" He nodded.

You guys sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a question popped up in your mind. "Handsome?" He turned his head towards you, only to see a mischievous smile on your face. "Are you seeing someone?" The man turned his back to the lake, making you laugh. "Ahh, so you like someone. Tell me, is it someone from the village?" The man further turned his head away from you in embarrassment. "Oh come on, tell me! Is it a girl?" He nodded reluctantly, making you punch his arm. "You dog! Does she know?" Handsome shook his head, making you smile. "Tell you what? As a payback for saving me back there, I'll help you get her. I'll be your wingman, Handsome, hm?" He nodded a bit enthusiastically.

"We all deserve good things, Handsome. No matter how we look, or what we are, these things don't really define one's self worth. Its our intentions, you know?" Handsome didn't know, but he nodded anyways.

"Good. Now, lets go check out this place. Keep an eye out for Ethan and Rose, okay?" You told him, not knowing someone was already watching the two of you.

So... thought?

What did you guys think about Handsome? I'm gonna post a pic of him soon if you guys want.

Part 5 is here.

[yellowflwrss]

CANCELED ON; eddie munson

•eddie munson’s younger sister gets canceled on by her friends and he goes to comfort her.

•fluff and angst

•y/n: your name n/n: nickname

•this just happened to me and i’m balling my eyes out so what better way to deal with it by writing -sam

“fuck.” y/n cursed through the tears as she slammed the trailer door. she kicked off her dirty converse, one hit the couch while the other went down the hall. she knew it was cliche to fall against the front door in tears but she could care less. y/n sniffled as she pulled her legs to her chest and her head fell between them. she put one arm over her head to try and subdue the pain radiating all over because of how much she’d been crying.

y/n let sobs rack through, she let herself feel the pain “you deserve it.” she told herself “you should know you they didn’t like you, of course they’d do that. you should have fucking known y/n.” y/n looked up at the ceiling of the trailer and she slammed her hand against the door. “fucking stupid. this is so stupid. i-i hate myself.” she cried even more.

she felt so stupid for crying over this but she had to. not only did she let out cries because of what happened but with that she let out all the pain she’d been bottling up. this small and what was supposed to be comforting moment, was ruined by one small event. one that affected y/n more than she thought it would.

what y/n didn’t hear was a door opening across the small hallway and someone walking towards her. she kept her head in her hands as tears streamed down her face. she was startled when a heavy hand laid atop her head. y/n looked up to see her older brother, eddie, who had his comfortable clothes on and his hair in a bun. when she saw his concerned face, that’s when y/n broke down even more than the first time.

eddie let her cry in his arms. after a few minutes, y/n pulled away and awkwardly chuckled “i didn’t know you were home.” she mumbled. eddie scoffed and he got more comfortable on the ground—he crossed his legs and y/n did the same. “what happened?” he asked.

“uh.. it’s stupid.” eddie shook his head “it’s not stupid if you’re crying over it n/n.” he assured. “the group was supposed to go to family video to have a movie night at the wheelers. they canceled on it as soon as i finished getting ready; i called mike to confirm what time we should all meet up and he said they aren’t going anymore.”

she swallowed back tears as she continued “i decided that i’m already dressed so why not go pick out a few movies to watch by myself and i took my bike to family video and.. and everyone was there. lucas, max, eleven, dustin, mike, will. they were all there, laughing with steve and robin.”

eddie stayed quiet for a moment before he stood up “you’re kidding me.” he told himself “c’mon y/n, we’re going to family video.”

“did you not just hear me ed? i don’t wanna see them right now.” she stood up too and hit her brother on the shoulder “well as a munson, you should just listen to me,” he handed her back her shoes “and let’s go to family video. i’ll even watch some weird movie you like. those fucking brats shouldn’t be like that. especially the ones i’m friends with.”

eddie ran to his room and through on his chained jeans and a black long sleeve with his battle vest. he tossed on a matching pair of sneakers to y/n’s and shook the keys in front of her face. “onward n/n.”

eddie and y/n sung along to some of their songs in the car. they had mixtapes that were a mix of their taste’s in music which weren’t that different to start off.

when eddie parked the mini van, he looked to his sister “remember, walk in there, say hi to steve and robin if you want, go straight to the horror.” y/n laughed at eddie and nodded. the two then got out and walked to the entrance. the sign said it was closed but eddie didn’t care. he opened the door and let y/n in first.

everyone looked at the munson’s in surprise. steve and robin looked at them with a look that said “cant you read the sign” and the kids looked at y/n with nervous and guilty faces.

“hi.” y/n looked at steve and robin and completely ignored everyone else. she walked to the horror section and began to pick out movies “nightmare on elm street?” she turned back to eddie who nodded. she also picked out “the outsiders” and “karate kid” and decided to stroll around the rest of the store.

steve tried to tell eddie that they were closed but the munson boy gave him a serious look and brought steve to the back of the store. he told him a summary of all his younger sister told him. steve shook his head “they didn’t do that.” he mumbled to eddie but the boy shook his head “harrington,” he huffed “i’ve seen y/n cry but she was crying a lot so let it be. we’re gonna have a movie night.”

“shit. yeah go. i’ll ring em up for you.” he patted eddie on the shoulder as he smiled at y/n. the girl was the youngest out of everyone there. she was still in the same grade as the kids but she was 14 and not 15. “hey y/n. make eddie shit his pants.” robin smiled (the older girl could tell something was up with the nervous looks from the kids and how eddie brought steve to talk.) “hey y/n..” lucas mumbled awkwardly “fuck you guys.” she told all of them. she then thanked steve and her and eddie carried out the movies. eddie said a quick bye to robin and steve before following his sister.

“i’m crying again.” she mumbled when she got in the car. “it still hurts even though that felt good.” she laughed while wiping the flowing tears. eddie kissed the top of his sisters head “i’m here to be your annoying brother till they come crawling back to apologize.”

y/n laughed “you’re the best brother ever, eddie.”

“you’re the best sister ever too, y/n.”

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Scaredy Cat

Anonymous asked:

You want seasonally festive ideas? I got you.

Eddie with a Reader who LOVES Halloween and scary stuff but is also scares easily. She and Eddie are gonna have a nice night in with snacks and horror moves, leading up to the events Eddie asking reader if she’s SURE she’s gonna be okay watching a bunch of horror movies with reader reassuring him she’ll be fiiiiiiiiiiiine.

Halloween night comes around, Eddie and reader are having their horror movie night and reader’s using snuggling as an excuse to cling to Eddie. Eddie notices but doesn’t say anything bc he doesn’t wanna make her feel stupid. They clean up and get ready for bed. In the dark of night, reader is jumping at every little noise the trailer is making. She feels stupid about being scared over nothing. Eddie accidentally scares her by gently grabbing her hand, which tilts her over the edge and she starts to cry.

Eddie, of course, pulls her into his arms and is reassuring her everything is okay and she’s safe. Nothing is gonna hurt her while she’s with him. Reader calms down and Eddie offers to leave the hallway light on for her and snuggles her to calm down till she can relax and fall asleep.

Warnings; Fluff, anxieties, more fluff. Coulrophobia fear (phobia) of clowns.

Eddie calls the reader kitten so this is why I've called the story Scaredy Cat 💞

I do not give anyone permission to copy or share my work elsewhere.

Likes or reblogs are always appreciated 💞

❤🍁🎃🍁🎃❤

Halloween was approaching so she was planning a movie night with her boyfriend Eddie.

They had fun getting all the snacks, pumpkins to carve and light and cute decorations for the trailer.

She adored Halloween and Scary stuff but had maybe most definitely forgotten to mention that she spooked very easily.

It would be fine though she had Eddie by her side so she needn't worry... right?

Turns out Eddie is very attuned to how she feels and takes her hand with a gentle look on his features.

"Are you sure you will be able to do this sweetheart? I don't want you too frightened or anything by watching all the horror movies kitten" she nods.

"I'll be fine Eddie, I promise". She's going to be fine. Maybe if she keeps telling herself that then it will actually be okay?

🎃🍁

Halloween arrives and it's the perfect cold and cosy night with the wind howling outside and the rain coming down heavy, it batters the windows of the trailer.

She finds it soothing.

Eddie's first movie for them to watch is IT, she's never seen it before and she's curious. It can't be that scary right?

They light some Halloween candles, grab some throws she brought over and cuddle up on the sofa.

Nestled into Eddie she feels like she can handle this until the movie begins to play called IT.

It's about Canabilistic, evil clown personifying fear haunting a town called Derry every twenty-seven years killing kids then another twenty-seven years later after IT was supposedly defeated IT comes back for revenge on the kids (now adults) who defeated him.

Shit, now this fucker was scary. She shivers a little but wants to be brave and continues to watch the movie.

"You okay princess?" she nods and watches the movie her heart racing and snuggles deeper into Eddie's arms, he holds her tight to him and strokes her hair.

If he's noticed that her heart is racing then he doesn't mention it.

When the film is over and she's happy she got through it ( though she's sure that clown is going to haunt her dreams tonight) Eddie suggests a film she does like.

Halloween.

This film she breezes through and spends the time giggling at Eddie's impressions. She still hates the part where the dog gets killed though.

Then to end the night it's the A Nightmare on Elm Street movie and she's getting a little sleepy now as is Eddie but that clown is still freaking her out.

As the night ends they clean up the place and get ready for bed. She's a little jumpy and any unexplained noise is unnerving her.

It's a lot darker now and she hates that she's so freaked over a movie, she feels really silly that it got to her so much.

"Princess". Eddie grabs her hand and she shrieks and jumps, her heart goes a mile a minute and she feels the tears come now as she cries.

"Hey, hey". Eddie pulls her into his arms and she nuzzles her head into his chest shaking a little.

"What is it, princess? Was it the movies kitten?". She feels a bit embarrassed but she knows that Eddie would never laugh or make fun of her so she tells him.

"I love Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street but that movie with the clown...IT freaked me out" his gaze softens and he kisses her forehead.

"You're okay baby, you're safe. You're safe with me. I love you so much. Nothing will happen to you with me around. I'll always keep you safe". She smiles and peers up at him.

"You don't think I'm silly?" he shakes his head.

"Hell no. You want me to leave the hallway light on for you princess? Just until we fall asleep?" she nods grateful and kisses him.

"I love you, Eddie" he presses a tender kiss to her hair.

"I love you too sweetheart, just relax okay kitten? I've got you". He guides her into bed and then turns the light on, then snuggles in the bed beside her, gently taking her hands and kissing them, then her lips.

Then he cuddles up beside her, spooning her, His hand makes soothing motions on her back and he presses kisses along her hair, she feels so sleepy now and as Eddie begins to snore she finds herself falling into a deep sleep.

🌙🎃

[mirobami]

━ VALENTINE'S DAY PART II.

♥ GENRE: fluff.

♥ SYNOPSIS: what spending valentine's day would be like with them

♥ CHARACTER(S): k. momobami, r. momobami, m. ikishima, s. igarashi, r. yomozuki, k. manyuda, i. sumeragi, y. yumemite 

♥ NOTE: Here is the second part for the Valentine’s Day event, the Bami Clan will be after this one, enjoy!

━ KIRARI MOMOBAMI ;

Make sure to control her, because if it was up to her, she’d be flying you all over the world so that you can enjoy different things and it’s a bad idea because the jet lag will make you collapse for at least two days afterwards

After telling her that it’s better to do something that’s less tiring, she says that’s fine and thinks about places to go

Please tell her that no, you can’t go to a casino just because the hotel has a good price for couples today and hotels are not to be trusted on these days

Instead, both of you are found on the beach because she wanted to know what it would be like, especially since winter wasn’t over (she mainly wanted to see the ocean and how cold it was)

Needless to say, it was extremely cold and both of you were regretting going through with that plan but she made up for it by taking you to a restaurant which was near both of you and you’d get a spectacular view of the ocean as the sun started to set

Honestly, she’s willing to do a do-over, leading to Valentine’s Day becoming Valentine’s Week and everyday is a new surprise

The last day held the surprise of a giant stuffed animal that you’ve wanted for a while and in its paws held a letter that was well decorated

It was Kirari professing her undying love for you and even though the 14th was a so-so day, she made up for it, wanting you to have only the best things

━ RIRIKA MOMOBAMI ;

She really doesn’t know what to do on that day, she’s asking her sister but her sister has ideas like, “Take them to see the newest horror movie!” 

Kirari knows full well that Ririka can’t stand horror movies which makes her think that you both can do the thing that couples do in movies but anyways

So for the whole day, you two are going all over the city, doing things that you like and she’ll occasionally stop you so that you can get some ice cream or a little snack

At lunch, you offer for her to choose a place and it’s a place that’s really lowkey but cute; she’s kind of nervous about being on a date with you on this day since she’s practically never gotten this kind of love before, please be patient with her

She does know that people during these days will pay for both of them and that’s exactly what she does and she’s actually so happy when she hears you order something that she has recommended 

Afterwards, you’re going back home and she feels more relaxed; now she just wants to watch movies with you

However, you’re not done, when one of the movies has a slow song, she wants to slow dance with you and these are the times where she’ll make the first move and slow dance with you through the room

She’ll cling onto you after the song is over, hugging you tightly

To her, this feeling is unknown but it isn’t weird, it makes her feel all warm inside and she knows that it’s love; she really loves you a lot

━ MIDARI IKISHIMA ;

No, if you think Kirari’s bad on this day, she’s even worse, she’s this close to taking you to an underground gambling ring where the stakes are even higher and the possibility of her dying is greater

You have to pull her away from the notion and say that as much as you’d love that for her (no, you don’t), you’d rather hang out with her for the entire day and doing something that both of you can enjoy

Instead of doing that, she’ll make reservations for you to go to a cabin up in the mountains, usually reserved for rich people that have the time to kill and wish to be surrounded by nature

While it wasn’t exactly what she had wanted, she figured it was 1000 times better to hang out with you and in a place where it was just the two of you, therefore she didn’t have to share you with anyone else

Walks are common on this day and she finds herself much calmer than ever, but it’s not rare to find her staring at you without even hiding it; she thinks that you look so ethereal, especially with the background of nature

She won’t admit it, however, every time she sees you like that, she falls in love with you even further than what she thought, it’s like you remind her how much she truly loves you

Midari’s a decent cook when it comes down to it and you’re watching her cook because she’s trying to impress you

The domesticity of it all makes her warm all over; so when she sees you enjoying the food that she made, she realizes that this was not bad, in fact, it was the best thing that could’ve happened on this day

Even though she might have some insane ideas on days like these, she truly does her best for you because she wants to stay with you as long as she can 

━ SAYAKA IGARASHI ;

She does not go all out on this day but the little things that she does do is specifically done because she knows that you like them

If she knows things that you like tiny objects that are perceived as cute, she’s going to buy you that. Alternatively, if you like other things, she’s going to get you those

You have both decided on two things to do on that day so that you could both get a good experience and do things you enjoy, as well as show the other what you liked 

The first thing you two did was Sayaka’s thing: she had a bunch of tea at home that she wanted to test with you

If you like tea, she’s really excited about sharing this with you and if you don’t, she’s determined to find you something or just enjoy the quality time with you

The little snacks she puts out were specifically made for this and she will never tell you this but it took her seven tries to get them perfect for you so please make sure to show how much you like it

Sayaka will do whatever it is that you want to do, she’ll follow you even if it’s something that she’s secretly scared of or doesn’t like because she knows that as long as you’re there, she can do anything

At the end of the night, you each have a copy of a photo that you took and Sayaka frames that when she gets home, smiling

Your relationship is steady and she loves you so much, she loves everything that you make her do because it gets her out of her comfort zone with someone she trusts

━ RUNA YOMOZUKI ;

She’s got a list of things that she wants to buy you under the pretense that it’s Valentine’s Day (in reality, you don’t let her buy you a bunch of gifts and that makes her go ???)

But the general concept here is an arcade date; she’s going to take you to many arcades so that both of you can win the prizes there, especially the ones that say that they will you a phone of some sort or expensive headphones

She knows a hack on how to get them so she ends up clearing out the machine to the point where the workers aren’t even surprised because she’s such a common customer there

Everything that she wins goes as a present to you, but also, she will buy you a PSP that matches her so that you can both play games and this girl is actually going to send PC parts to your place so that you can make your own PC to play games and get good enough to beat her

She also wants to go to the new candy store opening up near here; if you like candy, she’s dragging you with her and if you don’t, she’s definitely going to make it up to you, but she genuinely wants to go to that shop

Later that night, you get to choose all of the places that you want to go to and she sticks to it, everything you want is what you get 

That night, you two go back home and she holds out a necklace, saying that she got another one for her so that both of you could match

It’s actually a locket with a tiny piece of paper in it and it’s a letter that she wrote down how much she cares for you and that she wants you to keep this locket as a reminder

This is the one day where she gets to be really vulnerable and she wouldn’t want to do it with anyone other than you

━ KAEDE MANYUDA ;

Do NOT under any circumstances have him decide what you’re doing on that day, because you’ll find yourself following him into a damn factory to get a tour

Please tell him that you cannot go to a factory for Valentine’s Day because this man has no concept of what is considered romantic or not, he genuinely thought that was romantic

“But we get to see how the machines work!” 

Either you help him or Itsuki will smack him upside the head and shove both of you to a specific place where you can have a decent date

The expensive restaurant that you two end up going to is actually really nice and he ends up knowing some of the waiters, leading to you getting a free dessert of your favorite kind

Afterwards, he’s going to take you wherever you want to go and you don’t even need to worry about how expensive it is; if you look at something for more than ten seconds, he’s already getting it and putting it in a basket to buy it for you later

He doesn’t expect anything from you on this day, but you get him a metal ring and he finds himself loving it more than any other lavish present he’s ever gotten

He wears that ring with pride and it’s a reminder to him of his love for you and how he’ll do anything to keep you around with him because he loves you that much

━ ITSUKI SUMERAGI ;

This day is actually really lowkey for her, so depending on what you want to do, she’ll list all the things that she’ll want to do later but for the most part, she just wants to hang out with you for the day

If you guys go to a mall, she’s going to buy you so many clothes that she thinks will look good on you and say they’re a present from her to you

Get her a giant bear, she’ll squeal so loudly people will look directly at her, but she ignores them all because this is a bear from you, it’s a present from you; she now sleeps with that bear at her side at all times, she can’t sleep without it

Once she gets to choose what you two will do, it’s simple, really; she wants to have a picnic in a place where you’ll be able to see the sunset as well as the stars once night falls

She’ll take a basket and a blanket and the basket is just full of your favorite foods, as well as many drinks that it seems impossible that everything fit in there

You’re in a secluded area, but not so far in that she’ll put you in danger, she genuinely wants to be alone with you and watch everything around the both of you

Lie down with her and listen to music with her, she has many playlists and one of them is perfect for this moment not that she ever planned it but she definitely did

The stars, in her eyes, shine brighter than usual and she thinks that it’s because of you or maybe it was because of the day, but either way, she thinks that it’s been an incredible day

She can’t wait to have more days like this with you

━ YUMEMI YUMEMITE ;

She’s probably the most excited about this holiday than everyone else; forget the Valentine’s Day concert that she was going to put on for her fans, she tells Saori to postpone it because it’s her day with you

Obviously she has to go outside with a different outfit than the bright one she goes but this is your opportunity to find a new style for her so that she won’t be recognized easily on the streets

She genuinely wants to see how you would change her look and she tells you to go wild and that she’ll pay for everything

Your entire date for this is both of you finding each other clothes that you’d like or making styles for each other; she’s paying, who do you think she is? 

After the spree, she’s going to buy you matching stuffed animals, specifically one that looks like you and her and she’ll give you the one that looks like her

“Look, it’s pink! You can name her Strawberry!” 

Drag her everywhere you want to go, she doesn’t even need to be told twice, she likes to see everything that you like

It gets to the point where you’ll have a date at the most common place like the market because she wants to buy a bunch of snacks

After that, she’s going to spoil you at the best restaurant in the country

This girl just does her best to go all out for you on this day because she wants to show that you mean so much to her

[tsumune]

more than enough

pairing: gn!reader x suna rintarou

synopsis: suna feels insecure about what he offers in your relationship, and after seeing how excited you get listening to your friend talk about the extravagant things her boyfriend does for her, he decides to try something himself.

tags: angst?? to fluff (just slight angst)

suna comes home from practice to find the house silent. that’s odd, he thinks to himself as he looks for you. his muscles hurt, he’s sore, and a small part of him is irritated that dinner isn’t ready, but all those thoughts are wiped from his head when he turns on the lights in the bedroom and finds you fast asleep, your eyebrows creased together and your nose slightly red as if you had just cried.

“y/n? what’s wrong, are you okay?” suna softly shakes you awake.

“mm.. rin? ah, what time is it?” your first thought when you wake is to look at the clock, and to your horror it’s already 8PM. “oh no, rin i’m so sorry i didn’t make dinner yet. i’ll go make some now-”

“hey no, it’s okay. tell me what’s wrong first, were you crying?”

“it’s not a big deal rin. don’t worry about me, but you need to eat.”

suna’s own eyebrows crease at this. “why are you so intent on getting me to eat?”

you look at him with confusion, as if the answer was obvious. “because your game is coming up soon, rin. you have to keep your body healthy and not worry about other things.”

suna frowns at this. he knows he’s not the most expressive boyfriend, but he cares about you so much and wants you to know you’re not second to the other things in his life, no matter how busy he gets. “just because i have a game coming up doesn’t mean i’ll ignore you. tell me.”

he’s taken aback by the sudden tears filling your eyes, and in a panic his hands quickly wrap around your figure. “i got yelled at by my boss... i don’t want to lose this job, rin.”

“shh, you won’t baby. you’re doing so well, one mistake doesn’t define you.” you calm down as suna continues holding you in his arms and smoothing your hair, and the both of you enjoy some takeout and your favourite movie after you relax. but suna can’t shake the heavy feeling in his chest that you were bottling up your feelings in an effort to not worry him, and the guilt that his first thought when he came home was that you didn’t make dinner. it worries him even more.

days have passed since the night you broke down, but suna still feels a bit tense. he won his game, and in celebration you asked if he wanted to go out with your friends. in truth, he just wanted to make you feel better, but you hadn’t brought up the topic since that night, so he decides going out and forgetting about everything might be a good thing. as the night goes on though, his heart only feels heavier.

“and then, he opened the trunk and there were bouquets of flowers and balloons in there!”

suna watches your eyes light up as your friend talks about the latest dramatic gesture her boyfriend did for her. he used to internally roll his eyes at this and think he was being over the top, but looking at how happy your friend was talking about him and how excited it seemed to make you feel, he wonders if you ever smile that brightly when you tell your friends about him. actually, do you talk to your friends about him at all? does he do anything that warrants a story like this? suna isn’t sure if he can remember. sure, you go out for anniversary dinners, but everyone does that, don’t they? if you don’t go to him for comfort, and he doesn’t plan big surprises for you... what does he do for you?

“rin. rinnie. rintarou!” suna snaps back to attention at your voice combined with the flick to his forehead.

“ow!” you laugh, and that was enough to ease a bit of suna’s worries. he decides he’ll take some (albeit dramatic) inspiration from your friend’s boyfriend, and step up his antics so that he can hear that laugh more often.

“can i open my eyes now?”

“no wait, not yet,” suna drags you a bit farther. “okay, now you can.”

you open your eyes, and to your surprise, your bed is decorated with flowers in the shape of a heart. you can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of you.

“rin, what is this,” you wipe your eyes as you laugh. “since when were you so corny?”

suna feels his heart drop at your comment. he worked hard on this. he thought you would like it, thought it would be something he could do for you. thought it would put him up there on the good boyfriend list next to your friend’s boyfriend.

“rin, why did you use whole flowers with the stems still on? don’t people usually just use the petals? silly guy.” you say cheekily, thinking to tease your boyfriend for his random cute act a bit. you admit it’s a bit odd coming from suna, but it’s endearing in a clumsy way, and you appreciated it. but when you turn around to face him, suna’s head is turned to the ground and he looks unexpectedly serious.

“sorry if you don’t like it. just thought i’d do something different for a change,” he says through gritted teeth before leaving to the living room.

“hey rin, wait!” you try to catch his arm as he goes, but he just shakes you off. “rin? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to dismiss your work like that. i was just kidding.” instead of responding, suna plants himself facedown on the couch.

you start to worry. “rin? are you okay? can you talk to me about it.” silence. “rin... i talked to you last time. can you talk to me too, please?”

at this, suna turns his head. this time, it’s your turn to be surprised at the uncommon sight of his glossy eyes. “i just wanted to be a good boyfriend... you didn’t come to me last time you were hurt, and then i saw how excited you were when your friend talked about her boyfriend’s stupid surprises... i thought you would be happy if i did more of those things too.”

“oh rin.” you sigh and climb onto the sofa, softly squishing him. your hands cup his face and you stare into his eyes, neither of you moving until suna gives in. “what?”

“you’re more than enough for me, rin.” suna has heard these words countless times before. you’ve said them to him often, and in his heart he knows you’ve always felt this way, but with the recent events and mix of emotions he’s experiencing, he feels like he’s been knocked off his feet and swept away by the undeniable love in them. “you don’t have to do the things you see others do, i love you just the way you are. you don’t have to change yourself for me, rin, you’re already everything i could wish for as is. you’re sweet and attentive and always put me first, i’m aware of that, and you show me you care in the little things, like what you just tried.” suna’s eyes shift to the side in embarrassment at the thought of the flowers still sitting on your shared bed. “i wouldn’t mind if you never did that again, but i also wouldn’t mind if you wanted to try again. and i promise i’ll take you seriously. just use only petals next time,” you playfully pinch your boyfriend on the nose, and this time he laughs with you.

the two of you head back to the room to pick up the flowers and put them in a vase (suna was beet red the whole time), and then lay down on the bed to cuddle. after a while, suna turns to you.

“promise me you’ll talk to me if you ever feel upset again,” you open your mouth and suna already knows what you’re about to say, “i know. i know i’m not the best at it either, but i’ll try harder too. you just really had me worried.”

“i didn’t want to worry you before your game.”

“yeah, and i was worried what it meant that you didn’t want to talk to me. so your plan backfired,” he pouted.

“okay okay,” you laugh with a defeated sigh. “from now on, better communication. pinky promise.”

“what are you, five?” suna scoffs, before connecting your pinkies together. “pinky promise.”

a/n: methinks this could’ve been executed better but i just wanted to write something lol might rewrite/reuse the premise of this idea sometime

[sanshofox]

Hhhh atm I am just…sooo?? fed up with nowadays movies. It’s always lowkey there, but now this feeling is at a max.

They just don‘t feel right anymore. They don‘t give. They feel like cash grabs instead sometimes. Especially now in the franchise recycling era of hollywood. It’s hard to describe. And it’s already a topic in social media, so it’s a mass of people that are like NOPE. So I know that most of the stuff I am talking about was already mentioned somewhere, like the massive green screen use in marvel movies. I just want to rant for a bit.

Big thing that is talked about is lack of practical VFX (def more practical VFX again pleeeasee), but have you listened to the soundtrack of nowadays movies? Remember themes like from indiana jones, lord of the rings or the sixth sense? Because most of what is produced now is a homogenous thing. And most of isn’t even done through an orchestra anymore. It just sounds off.

For example thriller movies. In the 90s they used a lot of classic orchestra composition that added to the plot, gave a feeling to it and had a theme to it?? Can’t watch thrillers from nowadays, because what you hear is a lot of Hans zimmer-esque brutal bass with somewhat digital sounds. And it all sounds the same, somewhat procedural. And guess what: how is a soundtrack supposed to add to the plot when there is barely one. That’s the other thing: thrillers from now feel empty. It’s alot of splatter and adrenaline. But not real thinking, contemplating and conjecturing for the viewers behind it. Thrillers aren’t really thrillers anymore, but border on horror/splatter movies in a way.

But it’s not just thrillers, that was just one example. When was the last time you saw a wholesome movie production in the last years? Close to zero. It’s like a drought. I enjoy me some cheesy movies that I can just let „rain“ over me w/o putting any emotions into it. Just the wholesomeness of it all. But it’s not the only kind of genre that is going through a drought. It’s what friends of mine observed too. Most released movies go into the more adrenalin/action genre way.

Nowadays they only go just „one way“, not even trying to be anything more. Movies like The Mummy were successful because they were able to combine several genres. This whole movie had its own type of personality and that is why it’s so cherished to this day. Another example was 90s addams family movies or legally blonde. Nowadays movies feel like they don’t have any ideas anymore, so they only try to recreate what was successful before for the fast cash grab. Some movies still do have that personality thing and succeed, i.e. like EEAAO, but it’s rare.

And most movies don’t even try anymore because it feels like they let VFX do the talking. People are like uuuh and ahhh about it. But the fascination only holds for so long until there’s the point when all you remember about the movie is the prettiness, but close to no plot. I.e. when you compare movies from the 40s until now you’ll notice that somewhere from let’s say 2005 to 2022 there a „plot decline“ if it comes to summarizing. It’s hard to describe and I know that there is a term for it. It’s the same phenomenon that video games underwent. In short: there’s so much going on in peoples allday life nowadays that the attention span shortened but therefore cognitive abilities increased, so the industry adapted to that lifestyle. In other words: it has to entertain the customer that it’s worth their money, but in a short time span so they can still be „productive“ and/or needs less headspace (i.e. heavy, complex plot) so it’s not energy draining. It’s a complex topic, so I won‘t go into it that much. It really would explain the fascination for marvel movies. It’s like they don’t pay for a movie, they pay for an 2-3 hours event. It’s pretty pictures with lot of action with juuust enough plot. They leave with a rush without being too overwhelmed. And chances are high that you watch them only once for awhile.

And here’s another thing: I don’t need movies to be HD. I don’t need to see pores and wrinkles in every detail. I actually miss the grainy quality sometimes.

Yea I know I sound like a grumpy granny always using „back then“ and „nowadays“ stuff. And maybe it really is a bigger sentiment for nostalgia that I have atm. Though I do know I am not the only one feeling like this and you know that’s kinda sad. Things like movies or in general speaking art and other entertainment is fuel for people to keep them content and it’s kinda frustrating to see one form of content to stagnate in such a way. We do see technical progress in movies and hey that’s great that we can do nifty stuff like that with computers, but what’s the point if more important ingrediens are lacking?

[gxrlcinema]

multiverse of madness thoughts

non-spoiler section

multiverse of madness is kinda a horror movie and i was not expecting it. don’t get me wrong, i think the movie was very intentionally calibrated to skirt the edge of horror without quite being horror, but if jump scares are an issue for you i'd be cautious with it.

i think america chavez is alright. i don’t immediately love her, I don’t dislike her at all. excited to see where they go with her.

i love wong

why is stephen strange the main character? not of this film in particular but more just a general question of like, whose fave is doctor strange and can you explain to me why he is your fave?

wanda maximoff is the strongest avenger and like, we knew but it’s nice to get confirmation

we thought there were going to be so many more cameos than there actually were, and i'm happy with that. this was not a crossover event movie, it was not a cameo fest. 

this is a really big tonal departure from the rest of the mcu. it had a really clear artistic perspective and i was very into that. 

the pacing was also really interesting. it barely felt like a movie but i liked how quickly it moved. 

okay, now some spoiler thoughts:

giving stephen strange a child to care about didn’t pull at my heartstrings a second time around. i don’t want to falsely equivocate america and peter their respective relationships with strange are very different but i don’t think america’s introduction here was helped by being a direct follow up to no way home. it felt a little copy-pasted, except  strange and peter made for a better dynamic imo. 

it should be noted that I've never seen an x-men movie and if you have you probably freaked the fuck out when charles xavier wheeled his way on screen. it did very little for me (was the rubble mindscape a him thing? i assumed it was). 

i don’t fucking care about whatever the fuck charlize theron had going on and i probably won’t see the next doctor strange movie.

on wanda:

look, i love wanda maximoff. i've had a soft spot for her ever since i saw gifs of aou on my dash when i was 13. and i was ready for them to make her a villain. 

it felt really abrupt to go through the emotional arc of wandavision and then have her be a full on demon the next time we see her. sure, the corrupting dark magic or whatever but having her in full on “I'm gonna murder a child” now mode felt like a huge 180 from “I'm going to sacrifice my own children because i am hurting people”. i don’t fully agree that it’s regressive but it also doesn’t fully feel thought out. i feel like if we’d even seen a second of whatever was happening in the end credit scene of wandavision (where billy is calling out for help in her mind) it would’ve helped a great deal to contextualize what the hell was going on here. 

very curious as to why vision wasn’t present. they didn’t even say his name. like, was there no appeal to living with alternate universe vision?

wanda is a great villain. what makes wanda terrifying and dangerous and human and lovable is that she’s always seconds away from being the hero or the villain. one wrong move and she’s going to set the world on fire. one right one and she’ll see the error of her ways and try desperately to make amends. it is so clear here that she’s convinced herself that she isn’t hurting anyone even when she is blowing through entire universes in her desperation to murder a child because tommy and billy might get a cold. like, it’s powerful and devastating. the moment where she asks reed richards if his kid’s mother is alive and then says “good they’ll have someone to raise them” strikes at the core of this and it was bone chilling. she will always be scarier than any other villain because she’s supposed to be your friend and most of the time, she’s trying to be. 

the idea that a mirror version of wanda could be literally possessed by her and almost have her kids taken by her but be totally capable of offering her love and sort of forgiveness in an instant is exactly the balance i was just talking about. it was a fascinating scene for that character and i loved it. 

i don’t think she’s dead. they just made the character one of the biggest selling talking points in the entire franchise. i don’t quite know what they're going to do with her now though. they’re gonna need to find a really good reason to bring her back when she was willing to destroy the multiverse as a means to an end. i think the balancing act of wanda being a good guy and being so awful we no longer care is gonna be a challenge. 

[claryfrayed]

i just find it hilarious that in every single season of stranger things, everyone is experiencing the turn of events in a completely different way. yet somehow by putting all their individual pieces of the puzzle together, they end up solving the problem. like, the majority of the time will is in some gory, rated r horror movie. and el is in her own superhero, action movie, escaping from the lab like she’s james bond or something. then nancy and jonathan are in their very own murder mystery novel. all the while the kids are going through their coming of age genre, while the thriller part of it lurks in the background. meanwhile, steve harrington thinks he’s in some romantic comedy that just so happens to have children and a random lesbian he adopted at his minimum wage job. when in reality, he lost the girl in season two and never got her back. and hopper stole his role as the lead man. so steve’s just bouncing from group to group, somehow having the personality of the douchebag boyfriend that gets killed off in the first fifteen minutes and also the final girl of the horror movie who ended up realizing that they didn’t need a love interest to save them. and then there’s robin. and honest to god she just wanted to scoop some ice cream.

and it always works? like really well? i don’t know. i just find it funny that if you asked every single person involved for their explanation of what went down, you’d have a very well depicted story from mike, dustin, and lucas. no response from max. a single, random sentence from el that made no sense whatsoever and also summed everything up nicely. meanwhile murray would throw in some random shit about russians and joyce and hopper. and a series of detailed summaries from robin, who rambles. and steve, who is most definitely concussed. like, has anyone ever really sat down and just discussed what happened from everyone’s point of view?

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Hotel Transylvania adapted Dracula and Jonathan well...

I've seen this idea going around a lot and want to deep dive as to why. This is LONG, so warning for that (TL;DR at the bottom). Also, I will be using "Harker" and "the Count" to refer to Stoker's characters, "Jonny" (I know canonically they spell it "Johnny" but this seems more accurate for him and I like it more) and "Drac" for Hotel Transylvania's characters. I'll say Dracula and Jonathan if I'm referring to both.

Possible CWs: mentions of horror, death and vampires

Sidenote: I am reading Bram Stoker's Dracula via the email site Dracula Daily, which means I am reading it "in real time" to the dates given in the journal entries; in other words I'm only on Chapter 4 (May 16th's journal entry), so I won't be covering plot points later than that. Please feel free to add on your thoughts (though this might mean spoilers for a 125 year old book; beware new readers like myself!). Also, I will only be referencing the events of the first Hotel Transylvania, because I think it shows the characterizations I'm writing about best.

So let's start with Jonny first, since he's the internet's fav rn.

So when we first meet him, his defining characteristic is his inability to notice Red Flags (just like Harker). This is best shown when he willingly walks into a "spooky" (haunted) forest he's been told about by the locals, sees zombies ON FIRE and FOLLOWS THEM to the Hotel without being fazed. Even when he enters the Hotel and encounters various monsters, he assumes everything is normal at first (even if we assume he knows about the local monster festival, the fact he sees all these abnormalities being pretty abnormal without blinking an eye is still very Harker-like to me).

He doesn't stay that unfazed for long, of course. Like Harker, it takes pretty big inconveniences (?) to notice how wrong everything is. Once he sticks his hand through a skeleton's ribs (not cool, Jonny) it's all over: he panics and screams because it's suddenly Too Real and he's officially scared. For Harker, this realization doesn't happen when villagers dissuade him from the Count; instead, it happens both when there isn't a knocker on the Count's castle and when his shaving mirror is yeeted chucked out the window (this may or may not be obvious by now but Harker is a British man from the 1800s /j), leading him to explore the castle and notice how all the doors are locked, which leads to him panicking.

Another characteristic we learn about Jonny pretty early on is his love for traveling. He has explored many parts of the world already, and wants to see more. Jonny likes to immerse himself in whatever culture he's in and is curious about everything, asking a billion questions about the environments he gets himself into. He's also pretty chill in general, calling his roommate from Hamburg "cool" despite the guy stealing too much of his shampoo and later throwing a flowerpot at his head. While Harker's profession is a lawyer, let's be real he writes about his experiences like a travel blogger, and probably would be if he had lived in Jonny's time. Also while he is put off by the villagers' concern, he seems to brush it off at first, just chalking it up to the locals being "superstitious" and choosing to go with the flow. He's shown to be very curious, asking many questions of both the locals and the Count once he's in the castle.

Jonny adapts to his new environment very quickly, as you'd expect. He is eager to learn more about these new monsters (asking a bunch of questions) and makes connections quickly because of his friendly personality. He even gets into planning Mavis's party the way he knows she'll enjoy, despite that just supposed to be a cover story, showing off his problem-solving skills. Frankenstein (Frankenstein's monster actually, but try telling the movie that) later describes him as a fun guy and that he enjoyed his many stories. Harker, as we well know, is polite to a fault and likes sending Mina his stories of his travels and recipes he finds. After his panic in finding he's a prisoner, he makes an effort to act as if all is normal and tries to find ways to adapt which will later aid him in escaping. In other words, the Jonathan's are curious, friendly, polite, and fairly adaptable with problem-solving skills.

Another thing to note is how Jonathan is with Dracula. Jonny gets increasingly frustrated with Drac's refusals to let him stay at the Hotel longer. He disobeys Drac multiple times, showing a rebellious streak. However, they are able to bond when all of that is pushed to the side, laughing and noting how fun the other can actually be (like when they use levitating tables to do cool tricks). Additionally, Jonny is immediately interested in Drac's family history, even before he knows that history's truth. He is patient and compassionate when faced with the awful truth of his kind killing someone Drac loved. Once he finds out being with Mavis could hurt her and his other new friends, he immediately chooses to put them first and leave the Hotel not to mention he doesn't want to be killed by Drac. Harker, on the other hand, gets annoyed by being held prisoner and has a resentment towards the Count for it. He rebels against the Count's strict order to sleep in his own room and works towards trying to unlock the entrance to the front door. He, of course, fears the Count which makes him unable to stand up against him fully, but he definitely doesn't just resign himself to a grim fate. However, he still finds himself distracted by the Count's descriptions of his family history, as well as his knowledge of law and the outside world. While I've yet to really see how compassionate Harker is (he is very polite of course!), it is obvious he loves Mina and cares for her, so maybe there'll be more similarities to this compassionate aspect as the book progresses.

Adding onto that, it's interesting to note the parallel and contrast of Jonathan and Dracula across the 2 versions. Harker is the protagonist of Stoker's story, while Jonny is the antagonist of Hotel Transylvania, which is vice versa for the Draculas. For reference, a protagonist and antagonist do not refer to characters being "good" or "bad". A protagonist refers to the character the reader/viewer follows the most throughout the narrative, and who is trying to reach a main goal the audience is following. An antagonist, by contrast, is the major character who opposes the protagonist's goal in some way as an obstacle. So in this case, Harker is the main protagonist of Dracula and his main goal is to leave the castle, which the Count (the antagonist) opposes by locking the doors and holding him prisoner for at least a month (but is likely to be longer, of course). In Hotel Transylvania, Drac is the main protagonist, and his goal is to keep Mavis (and by extension, all monsters) safe and away from humans. Jonny, the antagonist, opposes this by being a human who loves Mavis, fueling her desire to travel into the unsafe world, and wanting to stay with all of the new monster friends he has made. I think it's a fun note that while Jonny wants to stay in the creepy castle, Harker's only desire is to leave!

Some smaller things I noticed are how Jonny speaks in modern slang and often confuses Drac, which reminds me a lot of Harker's shorthand writing (which he professes would "confuse the Count" if he were to read it). At the end of the film, Jonny references Disney's The Lion King in a rap verse to refer to how he and Mavis "Zinged" (how Sony got away with that is a mystery to me), like how Harker uses Hamlet and Arabian Nights references to describe his predicaments. Also, the Jonathans have a thing for women with fangs.

Now let's move on (finally!) to Drac.

Drac, first off, is overdramatic. While his fear of humans is understandable given his past trauma, you can't tell me this man isn't overdramatic when he gives (what I'm assuming are) YEARLY presentations on how bad humans are, and yelling at pictures of them. He loves to monologue about why he built the Hotel, his anger towards humans, his family's history, etc. However, his first instinct when faced with something he doesn't like is to snarl in anger, fangs out and eyes red. At all other times, he assumes a cool, relaxed demeanor. The Count also does this, seemingly being cool with everything until he sees blood and shaving mirrors, or until his women roommates (I'm just going to call them that because their relationship to him is left pretty vague, at least where I'm at) try to take a bite out of Harker. The Draculas both get red eyes when this happens: cool! The Count, of course, also loves to monologue about his family's name and what he plans to do in the future. While I know the Count is doing this to scare Harker as a part of his cruel plan, the fact that he crawls around cliffs and generally acts strange around him purposely is the definition of overdramatic in my book.

On a more serious note, Drac fears change. He is perfectly content to keep his life structured exactly as it has been ever since the Hotel was built. This is best shown through Mavis's birthday party -- he hires zombified classical composers for the music -- and the pre-party activities (e.g. quiet bingo and charades). You can tell this is a yearly occurrence just by how everyone other than Drac looks bored/falling asleep. When Jonny and his monster friends try to convince Drac to reconsider these plans he deflects or, as aforementioned, snarls in their faces. I assume much of this is due to losing his wife, because his past shows that he actually used to be the life of the party (e.g. him traveling to Hawaii and singing in public). His whole arc centers around him learning to accept change and let go of his daughter, and once he does he's a lot of fun to be around! So it's pretty obvious he was fun and open to change once upon a time. The Count, meanwhile, also professes to be fine living a calm, unimposing life, though you can tell he really longs for more. He wants to travel to London and fit in with others. He wants to make human connections even if he plans to murder them later. Still, he has a set routine he doesn't really want to change once it's set. For instance, he could've killed Harker off pretty quickly after getting the estate details, but instead keeps the guy around for much longer. Sure, it's also because he wants to toy with his prey, but there's a solid case to be made that he genuinely enjoys Harker's company and is content to spend all night talking to him -- after all, he seems to do this on an almost daily basis. I suspect once Harker tries to change this routine in some way (through trying to escape or refusing to talk to him), the Count is probably going to snap. Of course, that's just my theory and I don't want to speculate too much on this point; to sum it up, the Draculas have a problem with change, but also seem to be fun-loving/curious about the world in some way.

Plus, both run a mean hotel! Drac has employees (or servants? The suit of armor DID say he doesn't get paid, so that leads me to question if any of them do) to help him, but he isn't afraid to do the work if no help is available. The Count literally pretends to be his servants when cooking and cleaning for Harker, acting the part of a good host. Also, the Draculas are very comfortable in their powers and are pretty quick to use them when need be.

That's about it for Dracula, since I don't have enough of Stoker's character yet to make comparisons. Once again, I encourage anyone to add on with anything I might've missed! I probably should've waited until I finished the book, but I was too excited to wait!

TL;DR -- The Jonathans are similar because of their naivety, distraction from panicking, love for traveling, friendly personality, adaptability, problem-solving, and compassion. The Draculas are similar because of their dramatic flair, fear of change yet yearning for more of the world, and ability to run a hotel.