#i won’t. unless my alcoholic family gets me so drunk i can’t help it

[therosevest]

abt to go to a family party please pray for me. my family’s cool. but um they’re a lot and esp rn when im kind of living my lowlife um life it’s gonna be hell a little bit. maybe i’ll stand on a table and come out

[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!

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts. 

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

 Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a  certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief.  But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful. 

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact? 

“I’ve offered to, before.  He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair,  I thought playing with the tiny  ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal. 

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now.  An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful. 

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his. 

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either? 

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off 

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll. 

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up. 

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.  

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary,  I couldn’t work miracles. 

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “  I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.” 

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well,  I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either. 

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

 I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct.  Yugyeom smirked, winking at me. 

I shuddered in disgust. 

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle. 

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well. 

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?” 

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?” 

I blinked. 

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this. 

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing  me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in. 

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off. 

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.” 

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me. 

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.” 

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in. 

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated. 

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually. 

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss. 

 “I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s  familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned. 

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered. 

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?” 

He was quiet for a second. 

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss . 

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good.  I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier  when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway. 

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?” 

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize, 

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break. 

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid. 

“You’re here.” He said blankly. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine.  She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic. 

He hesitated before shaking his head. 

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go. 

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.” 

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly. 

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.” 

Oh, God. 

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even. 

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish . 

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive. 

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in. 

We were seated at the table, dinner was done. 

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation. 

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals.  And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance. 

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck. 

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..?  Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name? 

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

 Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

 If anything it made it harder for him to move on. 

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized  that this is what they wanted. 

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge. 

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it. 

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned. 

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “ 

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him??  What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted. 

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips. 

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end. 

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over. 

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.” 

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too  blind to see it. 

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently. 

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.” 

She gaped at me. 

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ” 

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief  but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight. 

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked. 

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...” 

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “ 

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older . 

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled. 

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly. 

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out. 

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him. 

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked. 

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly. 

I stared at him in disbelief. 

“You’re telling  me  that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently  by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped. 

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again. 

He took a deep breath and went on. 

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.” 

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw. 

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was. 

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.” 

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened. 

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened. 

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.” 

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face. 

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it.  .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it. 

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat. 

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh?  is the guilt finally catching up?” 

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “ 

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side. 

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.” 

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side. 

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ” 

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..”  I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his  , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh.   “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have  a name and you should remember it.  "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.” 

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again?  Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.” 

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable. 

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle. 

Coward. 

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?” 

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted. 

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down. 

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “ 

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped . 

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs. 

It made me laugh. 

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck. 

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big��about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ” 

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.”  he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between. 

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock. 

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us. 

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference. 

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.” 

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace. 

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me. 

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out. 

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on.  “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.” 

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me. 

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong. 

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me. 

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different. 

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between. 

i was exhausted. 

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day. 

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him. 

What now? 

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

 Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.  

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.  

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm. 

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother.   I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about. 

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ”  He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me. 

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way. 

For now I could only accept them at face value. 

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor. 

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that. 

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.” 

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all. 

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “ 

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless. 

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised. 

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery. 

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway. 

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place. 

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-” 

“Its her birthday.” 

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low. 

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard. 

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated. 

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.” 

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing. 

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.  i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently. 

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. 

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name. 

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?” 

He stared at me. 

“I want to go alone.” He said finally. 

I hesitated. 

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him. 

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often . 

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed. 

“Alright... Why don’t you go change  into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her.  “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards. 

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts. 

I would be in the car anyway.  By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago. 

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container. 

On a whim I moved to the cupboard  in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open. 

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him. 

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue. 

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?” 

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves. 

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact. 

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat. 

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him. 

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm. 

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake . 

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat. 

“I’ll do it.” 

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully. 

I smiled and zipped the bag shut. 

“Lets go shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet. 

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there. 

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him. 

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms. 

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive. 

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang. 

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning. 

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat. 

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101  now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.” 

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt. 

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy. 

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me. 

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain. 

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes. 

it wasn’t that hard. 

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way. 

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use. 

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds. 

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders. 

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.  

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place. 

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done. 

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore. 

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.” 

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically. 

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “  I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.” 

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch. 

“No.. No I’m fine.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.?  “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again. 

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually, 

 “I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly. 

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise. 

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something. 

Partly because that would be so inconvenient. 

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened. 

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.” 

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans. 

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice. 

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked. 

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed. 

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly. 

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse. 

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows. 

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently. 

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts. 

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable. 

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me. 

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes. 

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully. 

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.” 

His face shifted into a frown. 

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.” 

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.” 

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial. 

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare. 

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little. 

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head. 

 “Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.” 

I gaped.

“Months?” 

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?” 

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye. 

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted. 

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this  at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table. 

Jungkook blinked. 

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away. 

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character. 

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun. 

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way. 

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself. 

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[bitches-who-write]

Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty. 

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.”

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

[biboybuckley]

and i watched a part of myself die 'cause no amount of freedom gets you clean

10k, for teen and up audiences 

TW: Sexual assault/rape (no graphic depictions), panic attacks, rape aftermath

A/N: 

so i got this idea because i was analyzing buck's psyche and had the horrifying realization that buck has a lot of the markers that abusers/assaulters look for and this idea was birthed from the subsequent breakdown. There is no graphic depictions of the SA/rape, nothing further than lightly described making out while buck is heavily roofied and also trying to stop it. this is not to say it won't be triggering, but i did try my best to keep it as light as i could while still making it clear what happens.

a special thank you to vi (who doesn't even watch the show, you're iconic babe), spencer, and moost for helping me with this and especially moost for basically writing the summary for me as well as listening to my never-ending rants

Summary:

Buck goes out drinking after a particularly tragic call and the night takes a turn for the worse when he's targeted and assaulted. Struggling in the aftermath and unsure how to handle it, Buck tries to distance himself from his friends and family, believing that with time he can simply move past it on his own. Eddie notices something is wrong with Buck and desperately tries to get through to his friend, fearing the worst.

or:

Buck goes through the fucking ringer. eddie notices something's horribly wrong. you can contact my lawyer for emotional damages.

or:

“I heard about what happened yesterday,” Eddie says softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. And that I didn’t know. I should’ve gone out with you, or made you come over, or-”

“Eddie,” Buck interrupts. “It’s- it’s okay. I just went out drinking. It’s fine.”

“Drinking alone?”

“Yeah,” he stammers. “Yeah, alone.”

“Hey listen, why don’t you come over tonight? We can do a movie night. And… I have something to tell you.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Buck murmurs, feeling the tears welling up again. “I don’t think I can tonight.”

“Hey, wait Buck-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It was supposed to be a fun night. A way to blow off steam. Just what Buck needed after watching a mother of three say goodbye to her children and die right in front of him. That had shaken Buck, far more than he wanted to admit, actually. So when their shift ended, he tried to rally the team for drinks. Bobby said no, wanting to get home to Athena and the kids. Hen had begged off, explaining that she and Karen had plans to “recapture their youth.” (Buck really didn’t want to think too deeply about that one.) Ravi had to study, Chim had Jee tonight, and Lucy… well, Buck wasn’t exactly anxious to go out drinking with her again. So when she gave some excuse about being tired, Buck didn’t push it.

He tried to get Eddie to come. But Eddie explained that he had therapy this evening and that afterwards he’d be too exhausted for anything but a quiet night in with Chris. He invited Buck to join them. Buck almost said yes. But then he realized he’s not exactly in the best headspace and that unless he’s fairly drunk, he’ll just be a burden to anyone he’s with. He doesn’t want to do that to Chris, or Eddie for that matter, so he politely declines and promises to come over tomorrow instead.

So now his night of using alcohol as therapy has turned into a solo act. Ironically, a part of him misses Taylor. He hasn’t told anyone that she left him yet. It happened after Buck came back from the horse ranch. It had been pretty simple really; that time with Chris and Eddie had made him the happiest he’d been in a while, and Taylor realized it.

(“This is over, isn’t it?” Taylor asked as they ate dinner in silence.

“What?” Buck set his fork down with a clink. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Buck, the most we’ve done together lately is look for ways to help Eddie .”

“Yeah, but-”

“Please don’t,” Taylor interrupted, standing up. “I just- I can’t really do this anymore, Buck.”

“Taylor, where is this coming from? I thought- I thought we were happy.” Buck knew he sounded desperate, pleading to save a relationship he’s not even happy in. Taylor laughed humorlessly.

“Buck, the only time you’re happy is when you’re with him .”

“Tay, come on,” Buck begs. He can feel it slipping through his fingers, the one thing he thought he was managing to hold on to. “We- we can fix this, I can fix this, please-”

Taylor looks almost pitying, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at him as if he were a child she was trying to explain something complex to. “There’s nothing to fix, Buck.”)

That was only a few days ago and Taylor’s still got things at his place, so he can’t go home. Which is why he still goes to the the bar alone and gets wasted as fuck.

He’s about four beers in when she sidles up to him. Blonde curly hair, sparkling brown eyes. Her smiles are all pink lips and pearly white teeth and she smells like coconut shampoo and flowery perfume.

“Hi,” she says, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Hey,” Buck greets with a smile. He’s freshly broken up, buzzed, and likes flirting, so really, what’s the harm?

“Drinking alone?” the woman asks, raising a hand to get the bartender’s attention. Buck looks down at his beer, nearly empty, and his grin slips a little.

“Yeah. Team’s busy, had a rough call, and my ex is still moving out so…”

“Well in that case…” she smiles at the bartender. “I’ll have a vodka soda and he’ll have another beer.” She turns back to Buck with a dazzling smile and sets her hand on his knee. Buck starts slightly at how forward she is, but decides he doesn’t mind all that much when her eyes meet his and suddenly he’s distracted by how similar their color is to Eddie’s.

“You said you had a rough call? What are you, an EMT?”

“Firefighter, actually,” Buck answers with a grin, leaning against one arm propper on the counter. The bartender sets their drinks in front of them and Buck raises his towards her. “Not used to pretty girls buying me the drinks, gotta admit.”

The girl laughs, looking down and nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. Cute , Buck thinks. “Not really used to handsome firefighters calling me pretty.”

Buck scoffs, shaking his head. “Well now, that just can’t be true.”

“I uh, don’t often do this,” she admits.

“No?”

“No. I actually only came over because my friends dared me to buy you a drink.”

Buck hisses, pressing a hand to his chest in playful offense. “Wow. And here I thought you were actually hitting on me.”

“Well…” Her hand slides a little further up his leg and she smiles. “They dared me to come over. Not to stay.”

Buck raises an eyebrow, still grinning. “That so?”

She hums in confirmation. “But you’re buying the next round.”

Buck laughs and realizes he feels light, happy. He’s not thinking about Eddie, or Taylor, or the mother who died, or the rest of his team. Maybe this is exactly what he needed.

keep reading on ao3

[uncpanda]

Swamp Thing

Prompt: Jamie Reagan x Reader fic and the reader is a lawyer with Erin

AN: Can you spot the SVU reference? 

Requested By: ANON

“No.” 

“Look, I wouldn’t be asking unless it was really important, and THIS is really important.” 

You don’t even look at Erin as you walk, your nose buried in a file. You turn into your office and settle behind your desk. When you look up, she’s still there; arms crossed and staring you down. 

“Look, Erin, I don’t know how it works at the Manhattan DA’s office, but here, in Brooklyn, we don’t set our friends up with our little brothers.” 

“It’s not a set up. Jamie recently went through a heartbreak, he broke it off with his finance’ and partner. He has no one to go to this political dinner with, and all Reagans have to be there to support my dad. He checked plus one, and now he needs one. And if we have an empty seat at our table it’s going to look bad.” 

You lean back in your chair, “So you schlep out to Brooklyn, to look up one of your old interns . . .” 

“And friends. You’ve seen me drunk, that makes you a friend.” 

You snort at that, “Exactly, I got your drunk ass home safe after several shot of tequila, and I held your hair while you threw up.” 

“Friendship.” 

“Or me not wanting you to die of alcohol poisoning, because then I would have had to find a new internship.” 

You stare at each other for a moment before you both grin, “Send me the time, dress code, and address. I’ll meet your group there.” 

She moves behind your desk, gives you a not great hug do to your chair, and says, “Thank you. I owe you one.” 

As she moves out the door, you call out, “You owe me ten Reagan.” 

The event ends up not being for another week. For the most part, other than picking out an outfit, you put it out of your mind. You’ve just finished negotiating a deal with a murderer, double digits and the first one starts with a two, and you can feel the headache brewing. 

Which is why you’re more than a little annoyed when you go back to your office and see an officer sitting outside it, waiting for you. The rest of your afternoon should be clear . . . you didn’t have any testimony to go over. 

You stop in front of him, and study him for a second. He’s cute. “Can I help you?” 

His head snaps up, “No. Thank you. I’m just waiting on Ms. Y/L/N.” 

You give him a small smile, “Present and accounted for.” 

 He stands up, nods a few times and goes, “Of course you’d be pretty.” 

“Excuse me.” 

He takes a deep breath, “My name is Jamie Reagan, I’m here to undo the mess my 

sister Erin made.” 

Ahh, so that’s what’s going on. You bite your lip to keep from laughing, “Then you should probably come in.” 

He follows you into your office, and each of you takes a seat on your couch. There’s a breath of silence before he says, “Erin, had no right to corner you into going to this dinner that’s coming up. I mean, I didn’t even have a desire to go, it’s just something you do for family.” 

“Torture you mean?” 

His lips quirk, “Yeah. Anyways, I already asked an old friend I went to law school with, she said yes, so you’re off the hook.” 

You lean back into the couch and stare at him, “Well, now that’s a shame.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I could leave the rubber chicken dinner, but you turned out to be pretty cute. The way Erin was begging made you seem like you were the swamp thing.” 

He nods, “So, as long as I kill her in Manhattan, you won’t have to try my case, right?” 

“Yep.” 

“That means it wouldn’t be a conflict of interest for you to go on a real non-boring date with me next Friday?” 

“The whole being arrested, trial and prison thing might get in the way?” 

He laughs, “For you I’ll drop the murder.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” And you can’t help but think that deal wise. . . you’re on quite the roll today. 

[eelistolvanen]

Bruises that you left behind - Travis Konecny Pt.3

A/N: So since we’ve almost reached 100 notes on Part 2, I finally got the motivation to finish the next part. So thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged or commented! Let me know if you like it! Part 4 is in the works but I’d greatly appreciate some feedback :) 

So here it is, there will finally be some Travis x reader interactions, so buckle up folks ;)

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of suspected cheating, no proofread (as usual) 

You can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

_____________________________

You were nursing the worst hangover you’ve ever had the morning after. You’d already drunk enough at the party, but after Kevin had left, once he brought you home, you’d downed a entire bottle of red wine in self pity. You weren’t really sure anymore what triggered your episode. You wanted to blame your outburst against Travis on the alcohol, but deep down you knew there was another reason, the alcohol just aided it. After all this time you were still hurt. You’d never really gotten over it.

Getting out of bed proved to be a real struggle. But after half an hour you were sitting at your kitchen island trying to eat some breakfast. The pounding headache had gotten a bit better after taking some painkillers, but was still noticeable.

For a quick moment you though the ringing in your ears reappeared, then you realised that someone had actually rang your doorbell. You could already imagine who was standing behind the door as you approached it. Not entirely ready to face one of his lectures, but you couldn’t really avoid it.

“Damn, you look a lot worse than I expected you to.” This was all you were greeted with as Nolan moved past you into your apartment.

“It’s nice to see you too, Nols.” You scoffed sarcastically.

He sat down at the kitchen island and waited for you to join him. Both of you stayed silent as Nolan let his gaze wander over the mess in your kitchen. Surprisingly, he didn’t comment on it, a quick headshake was all that you got.

“I know Haysey already told you that we didn’t know that he would show, but I just needed to tell you myself. We really didn’t know. He wasn’t even invited and I have no idea why he thought he needed to make an appearance. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You knew that he felt bad, just like Kevin. But it wasn’t their fault. And as much as you wished not to have to see him, you also knew that there always was a chance that you’d crossed paths somewhere.

“It’s fine, Nols. I’m not mad and you did nothing wrong, so no need to apologize. It should probably be me apologizing, after all I’m the one who called his girlfriend a puckbunny, so… “

Nolan chuckled at your words. “I’m pretty sure they’re not dating, so don’t be sorry. I mean, I thought it seemed to be very fitting for her but anyway… Let’s forget about that.”

You gladly accepted. The two of you hung out for another hour or so, before Nolan decided that he probably shut head over to Kelsey’s.

 Sometime in the afternoon Kevin texted you and asked if you wanted to hang out in the evening. You agreed to it even though you knew that Kevin would bring up the whole Travis thing as well.

It did take Kevin surprisingly long til he brought Travis up though. And you knew that this conversation was about to come.

“He called me today.” Kevin didn’t have to name any names for you to know he was talking about him. “And he asked about you.”

You waited for him to keep going but he stayed silent.

“So?” Kevin exhaled loudly and made eye contact with you. “I just thought you wanted to know…”

“Do I?” You couldn’t stop your voice from being laced with poison. You were being rude and you knew it. Kevin never asked to be dragged into this.

“Ahh, I don’t know Y/N. Come on, I’m trying here. Well anyway, he wanted to know about you. What you were doing at the party. Why we went together. Why you’re in Philly.”

You felt irritated. Why on earth would he care. He felt. He had no right to ask Kevin about you.

“So you told him, huh?” You were being unfair, you knew you had to stop acting like a bitch towards Kev, but God you couldn’t help it.

“ No, Y/N! I didn’t. I didn’t tell him anything because I didn’t want you to get hurt-“

“You also told him that he wouldn’t show to the party.” That was low, even for you.

“For fucks sake, Y/N! He wasn’t invited, he wasn’t supposed to show up, okay? I get it, you never wanted to see him again but it’s to late now. Just don’t take your anger out on me, I did nothing wrong.”

You deserved to be called out like this. He was right after all, you had taken it out on him. And Nolan. And neither of them did anything wrong.

“So what do I do now? I mean this is the exact reason why I left that life behind. Because even though you’re my family, it also means that everything I tried to avoid is catching up to me. And I don’t know how to handle that, Kev.”

“But you can’t run away anymore, Y/N. You have to face it. And maybe talking to him would do you good. You know, talking like adults. Civilized.” He meant well but you still felt like he was accusing you.

“Civilized? So I don’t know how to talk civilized?” There was disbelief in your voice. Was he serious?

“No, you do… It’s just that swearing at him and calling him names won’t get you anywhere. That’s all I’m saying.” He was right but you still hated to hear it. There was so much pent up emotion inside you, you had to get rid of it somehow.

“I know what you mean Kev. But I can’t just forgive him…”

“And I’m not asking you to. But I know that you want to know the reason and you won’t get an answer unless you talk to him. An I know he wants to talk to you…”

He was speaking softly, quietly asking you to speak to Travis. You were walking a fine line, you knew that. But you were also painfully aware of the fact that you wouldn’t get any better unless you started to face this. Face him. And your feelings towards him.  

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

Every turn Kevin made, made you feel more nauseous. The closer you got to him the more you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t know if I can do this Kev.” Your voice felt weak, barely above a whisper.

Kevin quickly glanced over to you in the passenger seat. A worried look flashed over his face.

“Yes you can, Y/N. At least try okay? You agreed to meet him and if it gets to much, I’m gonna be waiting in the car, okay? And I’ll keep an eye on you.”

You felt yourself relax slightly. You were still nervous but knowing that Kevin was close by, put you slightly at ease. You had to do this. For you.  

Kevin parked the car in a parking space beside the sidewalk, only meters from the entrance to the park. You hadn’t been here in a while. You hadn’t been here many times anyway. A couple of times with Travis, when you were walking the dogs. It wasn’t your usual spot, which was exactly the reason why you choose it. It didn’t hold any particular memories that could hurt you. You barely even remembered what this park looked like. Kevin pulled you out of your thoughts as he put his hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N. You can do this. And I’m here, okay?” You could feel him squeeze your shoulder as you slowly nodded and got out of the car.

You saw him as soon as you walked through the entrance of the park. He had his back to you and you couldn’t see his face but you would always recognize his silhouette. You felt your heart get heavy. You started to walk towards him, fighting all the urges to turn around and run away from him as fast as you could. He hadn’t noticed you, so you could still pull out. But once you got within a 10 feet he must have heard your footsteps. He wiped around quickly and you were left wondering how this movement didn’t give him whiplash.

“Y/N. You came.” His voice was quiet and he send you a quick smile. It didn’t reach his eyes though, they were filled with sorrow. His sad smile made your heart ache.

You looked at him. For the first time in almost 2.5 years you really looked at him. You almost felt yourself taken aback at the dark rings underneath his eyes. He looked tired, exhausted even and completely worn out. In a way he looked almost the same than he used to. But in some way he also looked like a completely different person. The radiance, the light that he used to give off seemingly had vanished. His bubbliness seemed to have made space for something darker. He looked hollow, almost as if the Travis standing in front of you was a ghost of the man he used to be. To a stranger he probably would have looked completely normal. Physically he hadn’t really changed that much, but all those little things that made Travis Travis weren’t there anymore.

He had noticed your shocked expression as well as you gave him a one over.

“I look like shit, huh?” He was trying to lighten the mood, but if anything it made it worse.

“No no, you just look… different.” You knew he didn’t buy your lie, but you didn’t feel like pity him so you did what you did so well. Turn defensive.

“So your girlfriend let you go and talk to me?” Travis scoffed at your words.

“She’s not my girlfriend. And you don’t have to worry about her, you won’t see her around again.”

“I still shouldn’t have called her a puckbunny. That was low.” You genuinely felt sorry about it. Even if she was one of those girls, calling her out in front of the entire team wasn’t your proudest moment.

Travis chuckled slightly. “Nah, it’s fine.” His expression turned serious again, almost sour. “You and Hayesy, huh?”

At first you didn’t even understand what he meant. It took you a moment to regain your composure.

“What? No, we’re friends. Same as we’ve always been. Nothing more.”

At first he looked sceptical but slowly he seemed to relax. Which then sparked anger inside of you.

“It shouldn’t really be any of your concern though, I mean what do you care? You left me.”

Your emotions were bubbling inside of you. And as hard as you tried tears were scarily close to spill as you tried to choke back your pain.

He groaned loudly. “I know. I fucked up. I made a mistake. And I’m so sorry for doing this to you, Y/N.”

This was too much for you. You couldn’t hold back your emotions anymore. Tears were rolling down your cheeks.

“You just left and I’ve never heard of you since. Not even a single word. Nothing.”

“That’s not true, Y/N. I reached out to you. Afterwards. But it was too late. When I came back to our house the first time after that day, you were gone. Every trace of you had vanished. An I tried to call, but I could never get through to you. And eventually I had to accept that I lost you.”

“Don’t put this on me! What did you expect Travis? That I’d wait around in our house hoping that maybe one day you’d return? That maybe it was all just some sick joke? You left me standing on our wedding day and you don’t get to blame me for trying to pick myself up again and start fresh.”

He stayed silent for a while. The guilt seemed to consume him. He abandoned the most important thing in his life and he knew that you had every right to hate him. He had no right to ask you for forgiveness and he knew that. But that didn’t meant that he wouldn’t at least try to mend the things he broke. You could hear him inhale sharply.

“I know that I hurt you. I fucked up, big time. And I’m painfully aware of it.” Even a complete stranger would have been able to identify the pained expression on Travis’ face. He was being completely honest with you. Not that it mattered though.

“Yeah, you did. You broke me Travis, you realise that, right?” He felt like someone shot a dagger through his heart. He knew he hurt you. Badly. But hearing you say it made it real. He would never be able to forgive himself. And you wouldn’t either, Travis was sure of that.

“I know Y/N, just tell me what I can do to make it better. Please, Y/N! I want to fix this. Fix us.”

He had tears in his eyes. You could see that he wanted to touch you, hug you, comfort you but he also knew that it wasn’t his place to do so anymore. It killed you to see him like that. So broken. How ironic. Both of you broken beyond repair.

“You can’t, Travis. This isn’t something you can fix.” You paused, thinking over your next words.

“You know I wish there was a evident reason, one that I knew back then. That you had some mistress, stopped loving me or something. But… I thought everything was fine. I thought we were great. I had no indication that something went wrong between us and I think this is why it hurts so much. One day everything seemed great and the next… everything was completely shattered.”

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. Quickly you turned around. You couldn’t do this. Standing across from him, talking to him, hearing his voice. All it did was remind you of the pain he put you through.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”  He tried to reach out to you, catch your arms but you slipped out of his grip before he could get any closer. “Y/N!” But his pleads fell onto deaf ears. You’d already turned your back to him and were walking away as you heard him speak up again. It was quiet but you could hear it clear as day.

“I still love you Y/N! You have to know that. And I will never stop loving you, even if you hate me now.”

A quiet sob escaped your lips. This is why you wanted to stay as far away from his as possible. Nobody was able to hurt you like he did, even if he didn’t intent to. So you kept on walking.

When Travis left the park he caught a glimpse of you, sitting in Kevin’s car, seemingly hugging him. And although he knew that you had been honest with him when he asked you about Kevin, he couldn’t help but feel jealous. Jealous that someone else was the one comforting you now, when it used to be him who held you when you felt like you were falling apart. Jealous that someone else got to go to a Halloween party with you and dress up in stupid costumes. Jealous that someone else got to see you smile now.

Because this should have been him.

 -----------

You were sitting on Nolan’s couch, trying to figure out how your life slipped from you, when you thought you had everything. You tried not to think back to that day, but every time you thought about Travis the memories just kept resurfacing. You couldn’t get his face off your mind, it almost seemed like his image had burned itself into your memory.

Someone ringing the doorbell ripped you from your thoughts.

“Are you expecting anyone?” He didn’t answer, he just gave you a quick headshake before making his way to the door. You didn’t want to eavesdrop but your curiosity took over. You felt yourself freeze as you recognized the voice at the door.

“I need to talk to you, Pat.” There was urgency in his voice, he sounded almost desperate.

You could Nolan calmly reply: “Now is not a good time, Travis.”

“But it’s important. Please.” It really must have been important, considering that Travis didn’t usually begged for someone’s attention like that.

“I.. I can’t, Teeks, I’m busy.“ You couldn’t see Nolan’s face but you could sense the uneasiness in his voice. And of course Travis had picked up on it to.

“You’re busy?... She’s here, isn’t she?” You couldn’t hear Nolan’s answer but the commotion coming from the hallway pretty much gave away that Travis knew that you were here. You could hear Nolan and Travis speaking over each other and moments later you could hear footsteps coming down the Hall. You could hear Nolan telling Travis that he needed to leave.

“I have to talk to her.” With that he appeared in the living room. “Y/N.” It was more breathed over his lips than actually spoken and it instantly send shivers down your spine.

“What are you doing here Travis?” You felt so little, sitting curled up on Nolan’s couch while he was standing in the entry of the living room.  

“Can we talk? Again?” He seemed surprisingly calm. He was wearing a snapback and that yellow hoodie that you used to love so much. He used to radiate almost as much brightness as his hoodie, but now he constantly seemed as if someone dimmed his light. He looked tired, just as the other day.

“We have talked.” You tired to be as cold as possible, trying to shield you from the emotions that were rising inside of you.

“Yeah, and you ran away.” You sucked in air, trying to interject before he spoke up again but you came up empty.

“Please Y/N. And if you feel like it’s too much or you want me to leave I’ll leave, just let me at least try to explain.”

You wouldn’t get rid off him that quickly, so you took a deep breath before nodding.

You led him out of the living room towards Nolan’s bedroom. As much as you wanted Nolan by your side you knew that you needed to have this conversation in private.

Once the door was closed you looked at Travis expectantly. He seemed to be fighting for words.

“So? You wanted to talk. So talk.” You were being cold but you didn’t feel like standing in a room with Travis while the both off you stared at each other in silence. As if there wasn’t already enough tension between the two of you when you spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I-“ You interrupted him. Was he really doing this again?

“Yeah, you already said that.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“And I mean it. And you need to know that. I know that I hurt you. Badly. And there’s nothing that I regret more than walking away that day. I made a mistake and I ruined my life with it. And there’s not a day in my life where I don’t wish I could undo what I’ve done.”

“Well, you can’t Travis! Did they tell you that I tried to come after you? That I tried to track you down? Tried to find you and change your mind? Only to find out that you had packed a bag and already left the country? And then you flew to..”

Your voice broke, your eyes were teary and you felt like you could barely breathe. The guilt on his face made you feel nauseous.

“Why?! Why Travis, just tell me why you did it?” You sounded raspy, you barely recognized your own voice.

“You know why, Y/N.” “No, I don’t! You never bothered to tell me. YOU JUST LEFT, without a word!”

He took a step back in surprise, certainly not expecting this outburst from you.

“You read the letter, I didn’t know how to tell you in person.”

A humourless laugh came from your lips.

“I never read the letter. I burned it.” Your entire body was trembling now. You weren’t sure why though. Maybe you were nervous, anxious even or maybe it was the anger inside of you.  

“You.. burned… the letter.” He was in such shock at your words he nearly seemed to swallow his own tongue. He stood frozen, unable to move even a single muscle. This was the last thing he expected you to admit to him.  

“I just… I don’t get it, Travis! What have I ever done to you to deserve this? What did I do to you to have a reason to leave me standing at the altar?” Your voice softened, ”What happened, Trav?”

He looked like a fish out of water. He was still fighting for words, closing and opening his mouth. If you weren’t so hurt and angry you could have laughed at his expressions.

“I.. I don’t know Y/N. I just couldn’t do it.”

Anger started to rise up in your chest. God, you wanted to punch him. He’d always been a bad liar, you could smell his lies miles away.

“That’s bullshit Travis! We both know that, so stop lying to my face. You know how much I hate lying. You were able to write it in a letter but you can’t say it to my face?!” You tried to calm yourself. Take some deep breaths and steady your breathing. To no luck. Even Travis could see your trembling hands. You let out a shaky breath and kept going: “Was there someone else? Is that it?”

Your jaw clenches at that thought, you really didn’t think that Travis would ever cheat but who knows. You also didn’t think he would leave you on your wedding day but here you where.  Apparently you didn’t knew him as well as you thought you did. He seemed absolutely frozen for a moment, too shocked at your accusation to answer. But his hesitation was leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, Y/N! That’s not the reason-” “So what is it then? God Travis, just tell me. What on earth could have possibly been a reason to break off our engagement? Our relationship. Years spent together and without a warning you left.” You felt yourself starting to crack, a lump started to form in your throat and you knew that you would break soon enough. “ Did you just suddenly, one day to the next, stop loving me? Did you fall out of love? Was I just not good enough for you? What happened, Travis? Why did you leave me?” You weren’t even gonna try to hold back the tears streaming down your face. You just let them all out, sobs racked your body. The anger had left your body now and made way for the endless pain you felt when thinking about that day. You completely broke down in front of him

“Y/N…”

He knew that there was nothing he could say that would ease your pain. The damage was already done. You could feel Travis trying to reach out to you, but you pushed him away. You couldn’t see the expression on him face but if you did, you’d seen the agony that mirrored yours. When you let out a sorrowful quiet cry, he couldn’t compose himself anymore. He couldn’t watch you being in this much pain. He’d never hated himself more than in this moment. He knew that he was the reason for all this pain. So he fled the room.

Nolan stormed into the room only seconds later. Wrapping his body around his, as if he was trying to keep all the broken pieces together. And for what felt like eternity he just held you like that, at least you knew that he wasn’t going to let go of you.

“I think there was someone else, Nolan.” You broke the silence first, knowing that Nolan would give you as much time as you needed. The confused look Nolan gave you now, told you that he wasn’t exactly following what you were saying.

“That’s why he left. There was someone else. That-“ Nolan interrupted you before you could get another word out.

“This can’t be. Someone would have known. He would have told someone by now. I mean, did he admit that there was someone else?”

“Not technically, but he kinda hesitated when I brought it up. And he also didn’t actively deny it, so..”

Your voice started to cut out and you could feel the lump in your throat form. You were so sure of it now that you thought about it. His hesitation, the way he deflected the question. This had to be the reason. There was nothing else that could have been the reason.

“There was someone else, I just know it.”

Part 4 

[dreamofmysoul-tsc]

Elias Carstairs, Matthew Fairchild, and the Disease of Alcoholism

I’m very nervous about posting this but I think it’s important. 

Now before you guys scroll past this post, I’m gonna ask that whoever may read this take some time to hear from my perspective. I would like to preface this by saying that I do not know, nor am I claiming to know, what it’s like to face racism and prejudice everyday, nor do I know what it was like to be queer in a time that was less than accepting and terribly cruel to LGBTQIA+ folks. I will not be speaking about either of those things here, as it is not my place to. However, I do know what it’s like to live with an alcoholic. I do know what it’s like to have an alcoholic parent and I have seen what addiction does to a person and their family firsthand. 

Final disclaimer, I am in no way trying to attack or target anybody. All I am doing is providing my own perspective when it comes to the discourse surrounding Elias Carstairs and the differing opinions I have seen in regards to Matthew. I would also like to state that my experiences are my own, and are in no way reflective of every addicts’ experience or the experiences of their children/loved ones. Addiction affects everybody differently. 

I am also not a psychologist or a doctor; everything stated below are my personal experiences as a child of an alcoholic. 

Now let’s get started. 

CW for alcoholism, substance abuse, abuse in general, and death

Elias

When I first started Chain of Gold I didn’t anticipate how much I was going to relate to Alastair. Honestly, I didn’t have strong opinions about him either way; I didn’t hate him, but I didn’t love him either. That was until it was revealed why Elias was sick all the time, and what really happened during his mission. I have never seen alcoholism portrayed in a novel ever. I’m sure there are novels which talk about it out there, but I have never come across one. And for the first time in my life, I felt like somebody understood. There are countless characters in The Shadowhunter Chronicles who have touched my heart, but I will forever be grateful to Alastair and Cassandra Clare for making me feel like I didn’t have to hide anymore, that I was allowed to talk about my father’s alcoholism. Because for 18 years, it had been my secret. For my mother, it had been even longer. 

My father has been an alcoholic for my entire life. I’m sure this is common sense for most people, but an alcoholic cannot be a 100% good and supportive parent. Those two things do not mix. Most alcoholics are alcoholics because of shame, pain, or other mental health problems that they have not sought therapy for. I would also like to say that alcoholism is a disease. It physically alters the brain to make the addict believe that they need to drink just as much as they need to eat or sleep. When you are constantly drunk, it can increase stress or anxiety in everyday life and leaves the addict at risk of developing depression if it was not already there. Many alcoholics suffer with depression, general low self esteem, or various other mental health problems before abusing alcohol; these problems are then exacerbated with daily alcohol consumption. 

My father never abused us, mentally, physically, etc, and he never has. He carries a lot of mental pain and shame with him, which he has continually refused to seek help for. He drinks because he does not like himself; he feels that he isn’t deserving of help. He feels like he messes everything up. And as a child, I used to make excuses for him. “Well, he never hurts us, so what’s the problem?” “It doesn’t affect his work, so what’s the problem?” I was naive then. No matter how “functioning” they may seem, an alcoholic cannot live a completely healthy, happy, and fulfilling life if they drink everyday, even if it seemingly doesn’t affect their work lives. Alcoholics are very good at hiding their addiction. I cried when Cordelia described finding bottles in odd places, or when Alastair described how he tried everything in his power to hide it from his sister and their community. I used to find beer cans stashed under the kitchen sink. Sometimes I’d find them in the spice cabinet. I don’t like inviting friends to my house because I can never be sure if my dad will be 100% sober. I didn’t want people to see him that way. I don’t want to see him that way. 

I have seen a decent amount of posts on various platforms of people wishing Elias dead or wanting him to be completely x-ed out of Alastair and Cordelia’s lives. And while I totally understand the protectiveness many people feel toward Alastair and Cordelia whenever their father is involved (I love them to pieces, too), as somebody who is a child of an alcoholic, I do not and would never wish my father dead. The thought of it makes me sick. Thus far, we know very little about Elias and his personality. We don’t know if he has ever physically harmed Alastair or Sona. This is not to invalidate mental or emotional abuse either, which are just as terrible. And while he does seem to be biased towards Cordelia, which in and of itself isn’t fair, there has been little evidence to show that Elias is violent or abusive. Of course Chain of Iron could prove me wrong, but as of now, I don’t want to immediately assume that Elias is abusive. Alcoholism does not equal abuse, although alcohol can be an expedient to violence. I do not want to invalidate the Carstairs’ experience if that is the case, but I do not want to jump to conclusions either. Of course you can call me lucky because my father has never harmed us in any way. But personally, I find that insulting. When a parent is an addict, regardless of whether or not they harm their children or how involved they are in their child’s life, they will end up leaving their child with mental scars whether it was intentional or not. My father’s addiction and the addictions of countless others cannot be measured on a scale. Addiction hurts everybody it touches, no matter how normal the addict may seem to the rest of the world. 

I know this Elias section is already so long, but I have a bit more to say before I move on to Matthew. Alcoholics make choices, many of them poor choices. They decide whether or not to seek help. They decide to drink another beer. They decide to drive drunk, even if their child is in the car with them. It is a disease which completely takes over every single part of their life. And while it negatively affects their lives and the lives of their loved ones, that does not mean that they are undeserving of help. Any addict, whether they’re addicted to alcohol or heroin or cigarettes, anything at all, needs help. And they most definitely should not be mocked or attacked for their addiction or their attempts to get help for it. Regardless of whether or not they are in recovery or in the thick of their addiction, there is absolutely no reason to mock them. There is no reason to tell them to “just quit drinking.” There is no reason to call them a “junkie” or a “drunk,” no matter what stage of their addiction or recovery process they are in. 

I am in no way excusing Elias’ behavior just as I in no way excuse my father’s behavior. He [Elias] needs to be punished for showing up to a mission drunk and consequently being unable to keep those four Shadowhunters from dying. He needs to apologize to his children. He needs to apologize to his wife. And he needs to recover. Addiction is an ugly, ugly thing. It never just affects the addict. It leaves their loved ones with scars, whether they’re mental of physical. Personally, I can’t stand the sound of metal beer or soda cans being cracked open anymore. I’m terrified of getting married. I can never feel 100% comfortable or safe around drunk people. I refuse to drink. I don’t like thinking about how the only time my dad has been 100% sober was when we visited my grandparents for a week and he had no opportunity to slip away to buy alcohol. I don’t like thinking about how my mother has had to deal with this for decades. I want my mother to be happier. But I also want my dad to recover. Living with an alcoholic isn’t black and white; I don’t hate my dad. I hate his addiction. I love him. He’s my dad. I don’t like seeing him that way. I know Alastair doesn’t like seeing his father that way either. But no matter how much you scream or cry or fight with somebody, people will not change unless they themselves want to. 

Matthew

This section will be much more brief because many of my thoughts surrounding Matthew are similar to my thoughts surrounding Elias. I would like to touch on two things, however.

I have seen people talking about Matthew, or more specifically Matthew’s friends, saying that they don’t understand why they [The Merry Thieves and Co] seem to be ignoring Matthew’s alcoholism or aren’t doing anything about it even if they do realize he has problems with alcohol. Part of it is because of historical context; alcoholism wasn’t considered a disease until very recently, and the beliefs that alcoholics can either a) stop drinking whenever they want or b) are abusive, useless members of society still persist to this day. But the other, bigger part of it is relatively simple: people won’t change unless they believe they can change. Addicts need to want to change in order to begin the recovery process. You can’t force them to. If their heart isn’t in it, they’ll attend therapy or AA meetings a couple times to appease you, and then they will start drinking/using again. Or they’ll lie to you even more, telling you that they did attend a meeting or a therapy session when in reality they bought another pack of beer. Matthew will not seek help unless he believes wholeheartedly that he can change. He needs to believe that he is worthy of change and he needs to truly want to get better in order to begin to make significant improvements in his life. Of course relapses will happen, but the point is that he wants to improve his life. He wants to recover. No matter how much James or Thomas or Cordelia or Lucie tell him to change, no matter how much they want him to get better, he simply will not unless he wants to. It hurts. It really does. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. You can love somebody so, so much, but your love is not going to make them better. Your love will not magically make their addiction go away. To reiterate what I said about Elias earlier, you can scream and cry and fight and give them all of the love until you’re blue in the face, but if they don’t want help, they will not seek it out. Matthew needs help, but more importantly, he needs to come to the realization that he is deserving of that help. He is deserving of a successful recovery. Every addict is.

Lastly, there is something about Matthew and Cordelia’s relationship that has never sat right with me. Children of alcoholics are statistically more likely to get into a relationship or marry an alcoholic because it’s what feels “normal” to us. And while I have always wanted Matthew and Cordelia to become friends, part of this is the reason why I don’t want them to have a romantic relationship. I don’t want Cordelia to have to continue that cycle, never able to escape the effects of addiction. I want Matthew to focus on himself. I want him to recover. I want his friends to support him. I want both Matthew and Elias to have a successful recovery, because the amount of addicts who die from their disease every year is staggering and upsetting. Of course Matthew is deserving of love, but he needs to focus on recovering, both from his addiction and his trauma, before he puts all of his energy into a romantic relationship.

----------

Overall, I want Alastair to have time to be himself, to not have to carry the weight of his father’s addiction on his shoulders. I want Elias to recover and to apologize for how he has hurt his family, whether it was intentional or not. I want Matthew to forgive himself and to realize that he deserves to take up space in this world just as we all do. And I ask that you, whoever may be reading this, to try to feel a little more compassion for these characters and addicts you may know or meet in your life. Or to put yourself in their shoes and the shoes of their loved ones. We should not be mocking them, or hurting them, and we certainly should not be wishing death upon them. There are far, far too many addicts who have died because of their disease and their mental pain. When dealing with addicts or the loved ones of addicts, I ask that you try to support them and encourage them to seek help, whether it’s therapy or AA or any number of support groups. The effects of alcoholism and drug addiction will stick with the addict in recovery and their loved ones for the rest of their lives. Some days will be harder than others. But the important part is that, when those hard days come, they have a support system of therapists, family, friends, even people online to remind them why they are in recovery and to encourage them and their progress, no matter how small. An addict in recovery, no matter how slow or fast their progress may seem, is better than an addict who has died because they never sought out the help they desperately needed.

If you read through this entire thing, thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to read through my personal experience. This topic is very important to me, and while I’m relatively new to tumblr, I still felt the need and the obligation to share my perspective. I’m not trying to sway your opinion of Matthew or Elias, just to maybe make some people think about this complex issue. If you aren’t a fan of either of them, that’s totally fine. If anything, what I would like you to take away from this is to be more aware of alcoholism and its effects. If something doesn’t seem right, speak up. I will be providing resources below if you or a loved one needs addiction counseling or help, or if you simply would like to learn more about this. If you have anything to add to this, would like to share your opinion, or have a question for me, feel free to reblog or message me in my ask box. Please be respectful, y’all! This is a sensitive topic and it affects everybody differently; I want this to be a civil discussion, not a witch hunt.

Thank you very much for reading and considering my point of view. 

Resources:

What is Alcohol Use Disorder?

SAMHSA (a helpline)

Alcohol Rehab Guide (this website also includes educational resources and a helpline)

Substance Abuse Helplines and Treatment Programs

How Parental Alcoholism Affects Children

[polymarinelove]

okay y’all listen up:

if you came to freeform’s siren for the ot3 or if you just loved the ot3 and are Not Okay™ about the current turn of events with the show, I have a show that will be a balm for your battered soul:

leverage

here are some of the perks:

ragtag team of “ex” thieves using their skills to take down the rich and powerful (white men)

epitome of the found family trope (this show basically CREATED the trope, I’m legitimately serious, deadass I believe they were the ones that truly created it) (edit: obviously I’m exaggerating but you catch my drift)

C A N O N polyamorous relationship made concretely canon by the last episode (although there are themes of it throughout the entire series)

also lowkey highkey the writer has been writing fanfiction for the ot3 on ao3 for the past decade but won’t say what his handle is. and no, I’m not even joking:

“villian” of the week storyline that never gets stale

after every con they make sure to dramatically gloat in the background, just in sight of their corrupt mark(s)

there is never a boring episode. no dips in content quality.

the writers didn’t believe in cliffhangers for season finales. they believed if you had to rely on shock factor or cliffhangers to keep the audience you weren’t doing it right

the Smart™ character is Alec Hardison, a black foster kid turned greatest hacker in the world. he loves and respect his nana above all else. (his first major crime was making the bank of iceland pay for his nana’s medical bills). he is PROUD geek (“age of the geek, baby”) and is can be emotional and there is nothing wrong with that (no toxic themes of black man hyper masculinity here, people). he is allowed and is unapologetically himself and on MANY occasions described (by his ot3 partners as well as the rest of the team) as the smartest man they’ve ever known. he is canonically romantically involved with parker for the last two seasons but he is also coded to be in a budding relationship with eliot (no toxic heteronormativity here either)

parker, canonically the greatest thief in the world, has many characteristics of being neurodivergent (possibly autistic) but is N E V E R made fun of or treated differently by her team because of this. she has trouble with emotions and connecting with others and was originally set up as the crazy, quirky girl character but the show was quick to set her up as SO MUCH MORE than that. her team helps her feel again after a rough, childhood and she learns to grift like a pro. shes baby and I’d die for her. she’s extremely smart and is built up to be the next mastermind of the team. her two love interests accept her for who she is and love everything about her. she is also bisexual (DONT @ ME I WILL TAKE THIS TO THE GRAVE THERE WERE TOO MANY HINTS AT IT)

eliot spencer, the hitter. basically is the brawn of the group that takes the hits for his team and fights if there is trouble or if they can’t just get in and out stealthily. started off as an 18 year old soldier with an idealized view of the world, slowly got involved with dubious military involvement and eventually turned into a hit man for hire. made many questionable choices but he eventually got out of that life. he HATES guns and when in fights, always takes his opponent’s gun away, dismantles the clip and throws it off to the side. despite all of this, he is N E V E R ONCE the toxic white manly man with a tragic past trope. never. yeah, he’s made major mistakes. yes, he has a tragic past. but that doesn’t define him. he attones for his past and tries to be better but it’s not a major plot point to overwhelm the viewer with manpain. he sometimes sleeps with other people but always cares about his lovers and pays attention to them (also lowkey sometimes the gender isn’t mentioned about past lovers so 👀👀👀 it’s Noted™). he is sure of himself and has the emotional stability that we wish bucky barnes would have. he teaches the women in his life how to fight and protect themselves. he loves cooking and uses his passion for it to teach parker how to feel (because cooking made him feel again after his terrible past). he’s so IN LOVE with parker and hardison- those heart eyes can be seen from the fucking MOON

sophie deveraux. grifter. english accent. EX art thief (“why does no one take that seriously!!!). wants to be an actress but cannot act for her LIFE unless she’s breaking the law. the mom/aunt of the group. she’s sexy, not just for her age- she’s sexy, period. she talks parker through grifting situations and teaches her how to interact with other people. I’d trust her with my secrets, but not with any valuables.

nate ford. the mastermind. an ex insurance agent. his son died after his company wouldn’t pay for his treatments. became a drunk, but the team gave him a reason to live again. his alcoholism could create problems for him, but it’s not glossed over at all in the show and is constantly addressed. he could be a dick and they didn’t excuse that. he and sophie have a relationship that takes three seasons to finally become something, and in the end after a lot of dancing around it becomes a healthy, loving relationship. he teaches parker to be the next mastermind, but doesn’t DREAM of leaving until he’s sure his kids parker, hardison and eliot will be good on their own. he could have easily been the broken white man trope but wasn’t. also, his “let’s go steal a _____” sctick never gets old- the bigger the thing they steal the better it gets, I promise.

literally, this is the best show of all time. it has it all: taking down rich white men, the found family of your DREAMS, a canon ot3

message my sideblog @leverage-ot3 for any questions or comments. you won’t regret watching this show, I promise.

(I’m tagging some other fandoms as well that I think might enjoy this show)

IMPORTANT EDIT:

the show aired from 2008-2012 (five seasons), but the show runners have reached a critical rage point about corporations today and have RENEWED IT for a sixth season (and possibly more)!!!

[ladykissingfish]

A Date with an Angel // Part Two // Hidan and Obito

Hidan

“Order whatever you want; I swiped the old fuck’s credit card so dinner’s on him!” Konan panics at this, and refuses to pick up her menu until Hidan takes out his wallet and proves that he was just kidding. Today was Hidan’s turn at entertaining the lovely little lady, and he had originally intended to take her to a heavy metal performance at bar downtown (he was friends with the lead guitarist so they would have gotten in free). However, after he informed Nagato of his plans, he was met with a disappointing “Konan hates heavy metal.”, so he decided to take her to dinner instead. She seemed entirely suspicious when he approached her earlier (wearing a dress shirt and tie instead of his usual dirty muscle tank and ripped sweatpants), but nonetheless agreed to go with him to a quiet little cafe a few blocks down from the house. Konan has never really known what to make of Hidan. He was just slightly older than Deidara, but (in Konan’s opinion) ranking much higher on the “immaturity” wheel. He’s been nicknamed by the rest of the group as “Mr. Never-Dies”, because no matter what happens, what job he takes on, how badly he’s hurt ... he just keeps getting back up. One time he came home with blood running from the crown of his head and flowing into his boots, but rather than let anyone take him to a hospital, Hidan took out a needle and made Kakuzu stitch the gash on his forehead. No painkillers, no alcohol, not even any flinching. Anyone else would have been substantially messed up after such a heavy blood loss ... but Hidan was just fine, in fact laughing and talking like nothing was amiss. He’s extremely foul-mouthed and has a thing for telling dirty jokes, but today, on his date with Konan, he’s making a great effort to restrain himself. Hidan wants very badly to put his arm around her waist as he walks along beside her, but resists as he knows Nagato will tear him a new asshole if he makes her in anyway uncomfortable. He’s at a loss for what to talk to her about, so he simply asks her how she’s feeling. There’s a pause, and she goes “I’m not really sure. I lost my mood ring yesterday.” He bursts out laughing, so hard that she blushes. “That’s pretty damn funny, lady.”Konan tilts her head in surprise; nobody had ever complimented her humor before. In fact she’s usually told that the few jokes she does make are very flat, or somewhat dark. Fast forward to the cafe, where Konan is surprised again that Hidan asks for a table that’s “quiet”, and pulls out her chair for her. The waiter comes back and Konan is amused by the amount of food that Hidan is ordering. When it’s her turn, her mind is a blank, so she just orders the last thing he said (which was spaghetti and meatballs). “That’s all?” he asks, as the waiter collects their menus and leaves. “No wonder you’re so slender.” She asks him how in the world HE’S so skinny when he eats so much, and he explains he has a fast metabolism, like his mother. Konan is interested; she’s never heard him mention his family before. As if reading her mind, he says, “Me and those guys just don’t get along. They wrote me off as a brain-dead bastard when I said I wasn’t goin’ to college.” “College isn’t everything, you know. People have to do what’s right for them.” Hidan agrees, and begins telling her his much he enjoys working for Nagato, and the type of jobs they do. It’s interesting; when you got him away from the others and in a calm, quiet setting, Hidan was ... normal. Normal and actually very charming. And although he never says it out-loud, Konan gets the strong impression that Hidan has come to consider the rest of the group as being a surrogate family. Then the food comes out and Hidan turns into a different creature altogether. He eats much like an animal, viciously and indiscriminately. But instead of being disgusted by this, Konan ... feels relaxed. There’s an unspoken feeling here, that with Hidan, she can let go and be herself. She doesn’t have to worry about looking pretty, or eating daintily, or acting “like a lady”. In fact Hidan orders them ice cream sundaes for dessert,

then challenges her to see who can eat theirs the fastest. Hidan ends up winning, but they end up with a horrible case of brain-freeze that leaves them both paralyzed for several moments ... yet laughing pretty hard. Even though Konan ate far less than Hidan, she feels quite stuffed nonetheless and mentions this to Hidan, who immediately offers to give her a piggy back ride home. She hesitates to accept; it’s a ways home and Konan feels she’s not the lightest woman in the world (especially after a big meal). But he insists, and she lets him hoist her into his back and trot back to the house with her. They laugh and joke the entire way, with Hidan making numerous comments about how light she is and how good she smells. “That’s one thing about living in a house full of guys for so long; I got so used to the smell of ass and dirty socks and Doritos that I forgot there’s people in the world who know what the fuck deodorant and shampoo are!” Konan laughs so hard at this that she slips off Hidan’s back and lands on her knees in the grass, holding her stomach and howling. Seeing that she likely won’t calm down anytime soon to grab onto his back again, Hidan picks her up and carries her in his arms the last two blocks home. He sets her down gently outside the front door, telling her how much fun she is to be with, when she throws her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard,” she says as she lets him go, wiping tears from her eyes. “Thank you.” He hesitates, then leans down and very gently kisses her cheek, before telling her that she’s welcome to hang out with him anytime, because “I’ve got a million more jokes, doll, and I’ll gladly tell ‘em all to you.” He walks her to her room and chances giving her another kiss, this one on the forehead, before bidding her Goodnight.

Obito

“Can I ask you a question?” “Yeah?” “When we’re at home, when we’re around the others, why do you wear that thing?” It’s the next day, and Konan is at a bar (ironically, the same one that Hidan wanted to take her to the previous day) with Obito. Out of everyone in the house, Obito is the one that strikes Konan as being the most mysterious. To begin with, the day she met him he was wearing a unique orange half-mask over his face ... and never took it off. She questioned Nagato about it but he seemed reluctant to speak on Obito’s unique fashion choice, and none of the others acted as though there was anything strange about it. He joined he others for dinner each night but seemed to prefer sweets to actual food, and he was quiet. Nagato told Konan that Obito was more or less his right hand man within the organization, and had helped him recruit the other members. Obito never spoke to her unless she spoke first ... so naturally she had been surprised when he approached her as she was coming out of her room, and asked if she minded joining him for “a quick drink”. The bar, like everything else, was in walking distance of the house; but Obito took her on the back of his motorcycle. It was a short ride but an exhilarating one ... and it got even more exciting when, upon entering the bar, Obito glanced around, saw there weren’t many people, and took off his mask. He found them a seat at a table near the back, and ordered them both a glass of wine. Konan had tried her hardest not to stare at his face ((which was difficult; aside from a few jagged scars on the left side and what looked like a damaged eye, he was quite handsome)) but eventually he caught her looking, hence giving her the bravery to pose her question. Obito paused for several moments, as if contemplating what to say. “Why do women wear makeup? Why do people dye their hair or get piercings or tattoos or wear crazy clothes? It’s because they have something about themselves that they don’t like, so they try to cover it up. I don’t like my face. I haven’t since my accident.” Konan blinks, genuinely surprised at Obito’s answer. She chances it to ask “Accident?” He gave her a wry smile and ordered himself a shot of whiskey (and her an ice tea) saying he needed something stronger to tell her about it. “When I was a kid, my parents liked to go rock climbing. Took me with to National parks every summer. One year my dad got drunk and took me and my mom up a dangerous path. He pulled on a rock the wrong way, and it came out of the mountain, along with a bunch more, and crashed down on us. Really long fall; mom and dad killed right away. But me ... I guess the devil decided he wasn’t done with me. A boulder crushed this entire side of my body, and my face got fucked ... but I lived. Had to go to a lot of physical therapy. Also had to go live with my uncle Madara — that guy’s a piece of work. But anyway I lived and here we are, right?” Konan is quiet for a long while, watching the ice cubes float around in her glass. “I like you like this,” she finally says, and this time she’s looking him directly in the face. “I understand if you want to be someone different, or like, if you feel like your mask makes you different, but, if you ever want to be THIS Obito ... please come to my room. We can talk, we can listen to music and eat junk and watch movies and talk about books and —“ Obito interrupts her by putting both arms around her, squeezing her warmly. “Thank you, Konan.” They stay for another few hours, and Konan is pleasantly surprised to find that Obito without the mask, Obito away from the house ... is fantastic. He teaches her how to play pool, he keeps her laughing with countless stories about growing up with his “crazy uncle”. At one point in the night he convinces her to join him at the karaoke machine on the stage, and the two sing duets of Disney songs (to the thunderous applause of the few people at the bar).The ride back home is mostly quiet, him driving slower this time and her holding on to him, each filled with their own thoughts. Before they get to the front

door, Konan lifts Obito’s mask just the slightest bit, and kisses his cheek. “This is the best night I’ve had in a long, long time. I appreciate you letting me get to know you.” He smiles and blushes, then slides the mask back into place before opening the front door. Some of the others are in the living room, and Obito quietly greets them before heading to his room. Konan was awed by how effortless the switch from animated and somewhat goofy to reserved and calm seemed to be for him ... and found herself wondering if any of the others were putting on a facade as well. She takes her shower and goes to her room, intending to go to sleep early, but after about an hour of restlessly tossing back and forth, she gives it up. She turns her light back on and picks up the remote to her tv, thinking that maybe a good, boring show will put her to sleep. But before she can find anything, a knock comes on the door. She goes to open it, and is surprised to find Obito standing there. “I saw the light underneath your door. Can I come in?” She takes him by the arm and pulls him inside. Once inside, he slides off his mask and, looking around, finds a seat for himself on one of Konan’s chairs. He opens up his jacket to reveal a small book, worn and obviously read many times. “I saw you reading this last week. I remember you telling Sasori that you finished it. I was wondering; what did you think in Chapter seven, when —“

[tinyboxxtink]

Helpless *Part 4*

Well, this is where I decided to go! LoL. Let me know what ya’ll think....

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

@wanniiieeee

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@dumauier

@word-scribbless

“Why am I like this?!” You yelled to no one in particular in the kitchen.

“The doctors can’t explain it,” Arianna came from behind you, giving you a wink.

“Ha, Ha ha.” You laughed sarcastically. “Seriously, I did it AGAIN,”

“Your little ‘Rain Man’ routine? Aw honey…” Ari made a fake pout face, rubbing your shoulder like a child. “Did you find out anything useful?”

“Useful….?” Your panic attack of the moment was quickly replaced with questioning.

“Well, yeah. Honey if you’re gonna hook him you need a way in,” Ari dropped off her dirty dishes and grabbed a rag, acting completely nonchalant. You blinked several times, making sure you heard her right. When she looked to you for a response, you knew you had.

“A-Are you serious Arianna?!” You screeched a little too loudly, she pulled you into her bosom in  a corner of the kitchen.

“Are you serious?!” You whispered this time. “We haven’t done that since high school, when we were living in that car!”

“Right, and unless you wanna go BACK to living in that car, we’re gonna need a...helping hand,” She nodded towards the front.

“I-I can’t believe this, is THIS why you pushed this?! Was this your plan this entire time?”

“No! Of course not! I really think the little obsession you have with him is….endearing,” she put a hand to your face, but you slapped it away.

“But when I googled him last night, I figured-- I mean, why don’t we both get something out of it?” She shrugged.

“Wha--We-I--...” your brain was running faster than you could process words.

“Look what’s the big deal? You get to sleep with him, care about him, blah blah blah--  all I’m asking you to do is find a crack in that armor,”

“So you can exploit it,” you added coldly.

“Exploit’s such a dirty word Y/N, come on All I do is do some research, dig some skeletons out the closet. If they don’t want them to get out, all they have to do is, I don’t know, throw us a few thousand dollars, and boom! We’re set for another few months!”

“Except that I actually like him, Arianna. He’s a good guy, he doesn’t deserve--”

“Well if he’s such a good guy, then you won’t find anything right?”

“I...yeah, well--”

“He’s still a politician, sweetie. Don’t let the dimples fool you,” She chuckled.

“Look, I hate to rain on your little fairy tale babe I really do, but we need this,” She took your hands in hers.

“Do you remember how hard it was for us when we moved here? Not eating for days? Taking turns sleeping so no one would break into the car? Not SHOWERING?” She shook you.

“YES, okay? Yes, I get it. We need this,” you sighed.

“We need this,” she repeated, putting a finger in your face.

“ORDER UP! Y/N!!” The cook called you for Rafael’s meal.

“I--That’s his, I gotta go,” You moved past her and grabbed the plate with a towel and walked out.

---

Rafael was reading his phone when you came back and placed the steaming plate in front of him.

“Thanks,” He said half heartedly, not looking up from his phone. Well Arianna would be sorely disappointed that you’ve already fucked this up before you knew what you were doing.

“Well don’t eat it all at once,” You tried joking, failing miserably. Who said that?

Rafael glanced up at you, then the food, then you, then his phone with a chuckle as he put it away.

“You gonna make me eat alone?” he grabbed a fork and stuck it in the pasta.

“...I’m working,”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he winked.

You were starving, you had forgotten to eat before your shift. And the chicken parmesan looked delicious. You grabbed a fork from underneath the bar and after looking around, took a quick bite off Rafael’s plate.

“Mmmm….” you closed your eyes and licked your lips; their food was absolutely delicious, and your stingy ass boss never let you have any free meals. Finally you looked to see Rafael just beaming at you.  

“What?” you scrunched your nose.

“You make these cute little noises when you eat. Like you're savoring every bite,”

“Oh my god…” You instantly swallowed the food and put the fork down.

“No no no! It’s adorable,” he assured you.

“...Well that’s what happens when you’re used to going days without food,” you replied with an embarrassed smile. “You learn to appreciate food,”

“I hear that,” Rafael nodded, continuing to eat.

“Right...the barrio,” you looked to the sky, as if whoever up there was going to absolve you of anything.

“That must’ve been really hard,” you placed your hand over the one he wasn’t using to eat, giving him the softest eyes and a comforting smile.

“I thought we were past that, camarera,” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Right. Yeah,” You moved your hand and turned away from him, cursing at yourself silently. Arianna was wrong about this, he was too smart. Even if you WANTED to manipulate something out of him, he made you too nervous. He could see through you. Still, the thought of going without food was too scary to ignore.

“I just thought, it was nice to finally find a guy that got what it was like growing up with nothing,” you turned back to him with a sad shrug.

“You know most of the people that come in here are full of money. Always have been, always will be. Then they procreate and give their money to their spoiled little offspring who just grow up and spend it and continue the bourgeois cycle. The rich get richer, and hood rats like us just run around trying to grab the scraps they drop on the floor,” You gestured around the restaurant angrily as you talked.

"Hey, this hood rat did pretty damn good for himself, thank you," Rafael said between mouthfuls of food.

"Right. Well, let me know how that goes for you," you rolled your eyes.

"Hey," He swallowed, "If I can do it, anyone can. Believe me," looked at you with those puppy dog eyes of his.

"Right, sure," you replied sarcastically with a laugh.

"I'm serious!" This time he reached for your hand underneath the bar.

"What about your voo--science?" he asked earnestly.

"What about it?" you raised an eyebrow.

"What if I could do something about it?" He asked, sincerely. Oh God, he was being so sweet.

"B-But I didn't win the game, we're tied," You pointed out, making him sit back and chuckle.

"....So we are," he licked his lips with a smirk.

"Alright then, ask me one more. But NOTHING about family, comprende?"

"Fine by me, I've got one already," you smirked.

"Hit me,"

"Do you want to sleep with Liv?"

His smiled faded to a shocked stare. You saw the thought of lying go through his mind, but apparently he was learning. There was no point in lying, you'd call him out either way.

"...Yes," He finally replied, looking down at the floor for a microsecond. He definitely did not want you to know that.

"But look-- we're better as friends. I know that, she knows that. We've just been friends for such a long time, and we just have chemistry. But nothing will ever happen, I swear," It was like watching yourself, the words just kept tumbling out of him. Finally, he stopped at looked you in the eyes.

"Happy now?" he shook his head, taking a gulp of his scotch.

"Hey I didn't ask for an explanation counselor, you provided that on your own accord," you put your hands up and giggled.

"I--You..." He went over the conversation in his head, realizing only just now you hadn't actually asked to elaborate.

"....You make me nervous," He shook his head with a smile, looking down at his food. His cheeks were the just the faintest shade of pink.

"You are right about one thing though," he spoke without looking up from the floor.

"What's that?"

"It's nice to talk to someone who knows what it's like to not know where your next meal is coming from, or if the next beating is gonna be the one that kills you--" He stopped mid sentence, the pink draining from his face. Actually ALL color for that matter drained from his face. Your eyes went wide, your own face feeling pale.

You hadn't braced yourself for that one, that's for sure. You thought maybe his dad took off on him when he was a kid, maybe he was an alcoholic who would come home drunk every night. Maybe a gambling problem. Not...that.

"I--I didn't mean..." Rafael barely coughed out, his eyes still wide with shock and confusion. How in the FUCK did he let that slip? He would absolutely never even mention things about his dad, let alone make a flippant comment about him. You made him nervous sure, but this was something else. He felt too comfortable around you, too safe. And he wasn't entirely sure he liked that.

"I...I need....I'll be back," He stammered, clearly freaked out. He stumbled off the bar stool and made a bee line to the bathroom.

Arianna took this moment to come out and check on you.

"Well now, did I miss something or were you the one making him nervous?" She giggled but you glared right back at her. "What?"

"I-I can't believe you made me do that!"

"I didn't make you do anything!"

"You--You got in my head, Ari. I lead him, I stroked his hand, I did everything to make him let his guard down, and I didn't even MEAN to do it!" You tried to keep a low voice but you were in moral turmoil right now.

"Babe, you need to learn to embrace this superpower," she took you by the shoulders once again. "You have this way of...enchanting people,"

"Now who's making it sound like magic?" you rolled your eyes.

"Ok for lack of a better word, hypnotizing? Better? People just TELL you things, unprompted. I don't know what it is about you. Your whole cute little "door mouse" demeanor, those big doe eyes. Whatever it is, you charm secrets out of people like snakes. That's why we're friends!" She giggled, but stopped when you made a look of disgust. Did she really just say that?

"I mean, that's one of the reasons we're friends. Not the main one, definitely not," she shook her head, assuring you the best she could.

"But I don't like doing it!!!" You stomped your foot, tears in your eyes. You hated doing it, you hated it. Your "door mouse" demeanor was really genuine, you hated hurting people. But Ari made you do it; and you let her.

"With great power, comes great responsiblity," Ari said in a bold voice, ignoring your eye roll.

"Look if I could do it you KNOW I'd be all over that. But you've got the silver tongue, so I gotta handle the silver,"  She winked, giving you a small hug, like that would make you feel any better. After a moment, she pulled back and gestured to the bathroom.

"So what crawled up his butt?"

"His dad used to beat him," You said it without thinking, instantly slapping your hands over you and hating yourself for just giving her what she wanted.

"OOOH!! Daddy issues, my favorite," she giggled, clapping her hands together.

"ARI, SERIOUSLY. STOP," "This isn't a game, this is people's lives!" The angry tears lining your eyes threatened to drop any second.

"YES, it is. It's our lives, that you need to save. Let the fancy abogado cry about his daddy for a minute, then suggest you go home and make it better," She told you in a completely serious tone and face.

"And do it FAST, we're closing soon," She warned, going to the back as you saw Rafael coming back from the bathroom.

Were you really gonna let her make you destroy someone you actually cared about....again?

[allfandomxreader]

Home for the Holidays (2)

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: He could’ve easily told you about Margot on many occasions. Why didn’t he? You can’t be sure. What you do know, is his secret makes it easier to have your own. Even so, your guilt is almost unbearable. 

Warnings: Language, drinking alcohol, alluded drunkenness. 

Words: 3.9k

Part: 1/5 (probably)

A/N: Just like the reader and Luke, I don’t know how I'm going to pull this series off. This chapter seems a little quick and jumbled to me but everything is important to the plot, sorry in advance. As always, feedback is loved and appreciated :) Not my gif!

Series Masterlist // Stranger Things Masterlist

Just like Hawkins, your room remains exactly the way you left it. Your knickknacks collected a thin layer of dust while you’ve been away, the photos and books still sit in their rightful places, the clothes you always leave behind are still folded neatly in your dresser untouched. This room used to be your sanctuary, an escape from problems that were just beyond the door.

It’s always a weird feeling waking up in your childhood home, surrounded by things belonging to the person you used to be. You feel out of place, too different from the girl you used to be to claim this room as your own, like your past and present are at battle and you’re caught in the crossfire. You’d give anything for this room to feel like home again. You wish you could crawl back under the sheets, to go back in time and have the worries you had as a teen before the real world came all too quickly. Or at the very least, you just wish you had a good night’s sleep.

Exhaustion is not an unusual for you these days. In the past month, you got used to working late nights and studying until the early hours of the morning. Today should be like any other, going through the motions, learning to live with the mistakes made in nights prior. You’re not sure how to live with this one though.

You don’t remember the last time you lied to Steve, the two of you were always brutally honest with one another, so open with each other’s lives at times was almost painful. Or so you thought.

It wasn’t like Steve to keep secrets from you, quite frankly you didn’t even think that was possible anymore. Every second of downtime your day allowed was spent talking with him, whether that was through FaceTime calls or text messages. He could’ve easily told you about Margot on many occasions. Why didn’t he? You can’t be sure. What you do know, is his secret makes it easier to have your own. Even so, your guilt is almost unbearable.  

“Do we look straight enough?” Luke asks from beside you. He’s spent the majority of the morning sifting his suitcase to find something to wear.

“I don’t know,” You admit looking over your outfits for the tenth time. “Wait, uncuff your jeans.”

“Seems a little stereotypical.” He grumbles, bending over to fix his pant legs.

“Well I don’t know! This entire thing is fucked up and I really don’t know how we’re going to pull it off.” His eyebrows raise at your sudden outburst. “I’m sorry,” You say, pressing your palm to your forehead to collect your thoughts, “I know you’re trying to help, and I can’t thank you enough. But I didn’t think break would be this stressful.”

“Remember that one time at the bar? When the creepy guy wouldn’t leave you alone? Think of it like that.”

“You pretended to be my boyfriend all of five minutes. And it was to fool a stranger not my entire family and closest friends.” With a final sigh, you reach for the door handle.

“Shouldn’t we set ground rules?” He asks.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, it’s Christmas and there’s mistletoe and shit,” He shrugs, “I’m not kissing you for more than three seconds.”

“Yeah, because I totally want to make out with you in front of everyone.” You only get a glare in response. “Okay, fine. No kisses longer than three seconds. Are you okay with holding hands and hugging?”

“Sure, that’s pretty normal. I could kiss your cheek or forehead when it feels necessary too.”

“Cool. I’ll even lay my head on your shoulder if I get tired or something, but I do that anyway.”

“And how’d we start dating?” He questions, “That’s probably pretty important to know.”

“We kissed that night at the bar, right? Let’s just say that’s when we realized our feelings for each other. Keep everything as close to the truth as possible so this doesn’t get even more out of hand. Deal?” You stretch your hand out for him to shake.

“Deal.”

Reluctantly, the two of you head into the kitchen. Dustin’s already seated at the table; his breakfast barely touched. Your mother hums to herself, fixing the last of the bacon on the stove.

“Morning, love birds!” She sings as the two of you take your seats. You almost cringe, you watch Luke gulp before sending a smile her way. It seemed only right that you told your mother and Dustin that Luke was more than just your roommate after telling Steve. Now, she won’t shut up about it, you wish you never said anything at all. “Did you sleep well?” She asks, setting the rest of the food onto the table.

“Always do.” You smile, beginning to fix your plate. You didn’t, between Luke’s tossing and turning and the ball of anxiety waiting to unravel at any given moment, it’s surprising you got an hour of sleep at all. When you look up, your mother is already grinning at you. “What?”

“I was wondering how long it’d take before you both fell in love. I’m just so happy the two of you finally made it official.” Luke chokes on his orange juice beside you, you can’t help but stare at her with your mouth agape. “Oh god, have we not said the ‘L’ word yet?”

“Anyways, Dustin!” You cheer, desperate to have the conversation not centered around you. “Will we be seeing Suzie at all over break?”

“She lives in Utah, Y/N,” He says with an eyeroll, “In what world would I be seeing her.”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “Everyone else is with their boyfriend or girlfriend, I thought maybe you would be too.”

“The only person who brought someone home is you.” Dustin says, poking at his food with his fork, maybe you hit a nerve.

“That’s not true, Steve brought Margot.” Dustin’s head snaps up, ignoring anything that held his attention before.

“Who’s Margot?”

“Steve’s girlfriend apparently. You didn’t know either?” You ask sharing a glance with Luke.

“That son of a bitch—” He cringes before your mother can even ridicule him. “I knew he had a fling. I didn’t know they made it official. Or that he’d bring her home.”

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I knew jack shit about this girl.” Your mother throws her hands into the air with a huff at her children’s bad manners. You and Dustin stifle a laugh while she excuses herself from the table to get ready for work. “We’re about to meet Robin and do some last minute Christmas shopping before tonight, wanna come with?”

“No thanks, I’m helping Erica fix her laptop today.” Dustin says finishing his last few bites of food.

“You’re still coming to Steve’s tonight though, right?”

“No shit, it’s tradition.” He says taking his plate to the sink. You can’t help but smile. Even after all these years, Christmas traditions with your family of misfit friends hasn’t changed.

An hour or so later, you find yourself pulling into the Starcourt parking lot. Two years ago, you hated this place, it was always crowded and too loud. It didn’t help that you worked for shit pay at the Gap, all your time seemed to be spent at this place. Sure, it was new and exciting when it first opened, but the glamor quickly wore off after about three shifts.

You suppose it wasn’t all bad, though. Steve would always bring you a scoop of your favorite ice cream on his break or you’d hang out in a booth with him and Robin on yours. You never stopped making fun of their uniforms, Steve’s contact photo is still him in that stupid sailor hat.  

“You’re telling me a town this size has a mall this big?” Luke asks trailing towards the entrance behind you.

“Yeah, apparently in the 80s people thought that Russians infiltrated Hawkins, but the conspiracy was never proven.” You laugh. He doesn’t get another word in before you spot Robin, the two of you already sprinting towards each other’s arms. As always, you greet each other with hugs and squeals earning concerned glances from fellow shoppers.

“It’s been too long!” Robin smiles, pulling away from the embrace.

“It gets harder every time we say goodbye.” You agree before quickly introducing Luke and your best friend.

The three of you shop for way too long and spend far too much money. Each of you have a handful of bags and aching feet by the time you find a quiet booth in Scoops, a tradition after every shopping excursion.

“The outfits look even worse these days.” You comment, setting down your purchases onto the tile by your feet.

“I’m sure mine and Steve’s belong to someone else now, they rarely ever buy new ones.” She says taking the seat across from you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust, but the dingy yellow shirts that you swear were once white only confirm her statement. “Hey, while we have some time alone, can we talk about your boyfriend for a sec?”

When you look at her, the normal smirk isn’t present on her features, the glint of mischief is absent from her eyes. Your stomach churns, you’re tempted to breakdown right here, to come clean and tell her everything’s a lie. It’s hard enough lying to one best friend, you hate lying to them both.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“And please don’t take this the wrong way, I’m only saying this because I love you.” You shift uncomfortably in the metal chair. Robin never outwardly says she loves you, not unless she’s drunk. You glance over to Luke, he’s too preoccupied leaning on the counter talking to a boy with floppy hair to even notice. “Do you think there’s any way he could be—”

“Gay? I know.” You laugh, or try to that is. A part of you feels relieved, to have at least one other person know the secret you’ve been carrying for the past twenty-four hours, to have another person on your side. At the same time, you’re terrified. Of course, Robin knows all about your crippling feelings for Steve, she’s known almost since the day you met. She’s had her fair share of ‘Steve Talk’ at sleepovers or on phone calls. You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s angry you lied to her about it, that she had to figure it out for herself.

“Oh, thank god,” She sighs, shoulders slouching as relief spreads through them, “I really thought you were blinding dating him and had no idea.” She pauses abruptly, cocking her head to the side, “Is this because of Steve?”

“Why would—”

“Alright, this one’s for you,” Luke interrupts, setting Robin’s order in front of her. “And this one’s for you.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as he sits down. Robin purses her lips at the sight, trying her hardest not to laugh.

“We’ve been outted.” You say, digging your spoon into an already melting ice cream cup.

“Fuck, already?”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, although Robin’s already shaking her head.

“Everyone in this town is oblivious. They wouldn’t know a gay person if one was standing in front of them,” She gestures towards herself, “Clearly.”

You try to laugh, but you can’t even find the energy to muster a smile. On day one of this charade, it’s already crashing around you. If you couldn’t lie to Robin, to make it believable enough to her, how could you to Steve? The person that knows you better than anyone, who can spot one of your lies from a mile away. It’s starting to look more impossible and more unbearable with each passing second.

“Hey, I’m not going to tell anyone.” She reaches across the table, patting your hand in efforts to put your mind at ease.

“Silver Cat?” You ask, cocking a brow her way.

“Well I assumed so.” She rolls her eyes, waving her hand in dismissal.

“Wait, Silver Cat? What the fuck is that?” Luke looks between the two of you, waiting for someone to fill him in.

“It’s our code. Basically, if someone calls Silver Cat, nobody else in the party can know. No matter what, it stays just between us.” Robin explains.

“We rarely use it. It’s for our most top secrets. Like when I told her about my crush on Steve, I called Silver Cat.” Luke nods along understanding, “It’s only used between us, Dustin and Steve. We used to have a whole saying but that’s is the only thing that stuck.” The three of you begin to eat your ice cream in silence, each of your thoughts elsewhere.

“I’m sorry, I have to ask,” You blurt, “Why did you think this had to do with Steve?” Not that any of this made sense, this whole thing is a shit show from start to finish. But maybe that part makes the least sense of all.

“I assumed you met Margot.” Truthfully, you don’t know what answer you were expecting, you could’ve come up with hundreds of responses, but that wouldn’t have made the list.  

“Am I the only one that didn’t know this girl existed?” You can’t tell whether you’re more sad or angry. It’s like everyone is a part of one huge joke, all watching and laughing from the outside.

“Well, I don’t think Nancy and Johnathon know.” She tries to make it lighthearted, maybe even make you laugh. It doesn’t work.

“Yeah, that makes me feel better.” You roll your eyes, pushing away the ice cream that remains, your appetite disappearing all at once. Across from you, Robin shifts in her seat. She focuses too intently on the table in front of her.

“He called Silver Cat too.” She admits. You want to ask more, to try your best to prod more information out of her. But that’s not how the code works, each of you made that very clear almost two years ago. The only thing you can do, is drop the subject entirely. “All I can say is,” She continues, even though it’s against the rules and you both know it. “She wasn’t supposed to come home for Christmas.”

You spend the rest of the day in a daze, your mind clouded with matters far beyond faking a relationship. You know you shouldn’t, nobody can be mad when someone uses the code, you were the one who came up with that rule. You always thought Steve would somehow end up finding out about your feelings and get mad at everyone else in the party. It wouldn’t be their fault for keeping your secret, so you thought of a loophole. You never would’ve thought it’d be used against you. And even though you parted ways with Robin hours ago, you still hear her words in your head. The conversation has been on repeat, like a song you can’t stop hearing no matter what you try.

“You okay?” Luke nudges you as you make your way up the steps to Mr. and Mrs. Harrington’s front door.

“I will be.” You shrug. You can’t bring yourself to move towards the doorbell or even knock.  

“We don’t have to do this tonight, we can say I got sick or something.” He offers.

“Even if you were sick, I’d still come. The four of us take traditions very seriously.”

“Wow, thank god we’re not real. You’d be a terrible girlfriend.” You offer a quiet laugh. With a final deep breath, you interlock fingers with Luke’s. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you knock.

It doesn’t take long for the door to open. You half expect it to be Robin, for her to be there to soften the blow. She’d whisper a joke in your ear to ease your nerves or immediately hand you some sort of liquor. You don’t know how you’ll survive the night without one.

Part of you thought it’d be Steve, that would only make since. He’d smile and you’d try not to swoon. He’d give you a welcoming hug and say he missed you despite seeing you the day before. You didn’t, however, think it’d be Margot.

“Hello!” She sings, full of energy. She catches you off guard, pulling the two of you in a hug. It doesn’t last long, but even in the quick exchange you can smell her perfume, vanilla and something citrusy. You can even smell the trace of Steve, the same cologne he’s worn since high school. It makes your stomach recoil.

You don’t have enough time to dwell on the thought, she’s already pulling you inside talking a mile a minute, you can hardly keep up with her words as she drags you to the living room. “I’m so excited for tonight. I love looking Christmas lights. When we were on our way here, I saw all of them on the houses. They weren’t lit of course, but I think they’ll be pretty. Oh, we also made eggnog, it’s spiked but there’s more brandy on the counter if you like it stronger.” You glance at Robin, sitting on the sofa already nursing her drink. She only smiles with a light shake of her head.

“Oh, yum,” You say once you come to a stop.

“Sorry, I’m a little excited. I’m so glad you guys are here, I can’t wait to get to know you both.” She offers a bashful smile that you can’t help but return.

It’s here you realize you have nothing against her. It’s not her fault she’s dating the man you’re in love with, she had no way of knowing that. It’s also not her fault he didn’t tell you. Maybe, your anger has been spent on the wrong person, blinded by your feelings for Steve.

“We can’t wait either.” You grin, gesturing between yourself and Luke.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She rushes to a bag discarded on the floor, rummaging through it for a moment before pulling out clothing. “We got everyone ugly Christmas sweaters for the gift exchange,” She says handing them to you and Luke, “We didn’t know your size, Luke, so if it’s too big, blame me.”

“You guys didn’t have to do that,” You say as Steve makes his entrance down the stairs. “Thank you.” You’re not sure what washes over you as you pull her into a hug. Maybe it was to make her feel welcome. Maybe it was for Steve, to show your support to their relationship or maybe make him feel guilty about keeping it a secret. Maybe it was to keep up the charade, to make it more believable.

“Well, glad to see everyone’s getting along,” Steve smiles, pulling you into his arms. “Missed you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You laugh, giving him two single pats on the back.

You let everyone mingle while you excuse yourself to the kitchen, heading straight for the liquor. You make two drinks for you and Luke, adding a generous amount of brandy into your cup. At this point, you don’t even care if it tastes good, all you know is you can’t be completely sober this evening.

“Yikes, rough day?” Steve asks when he enters, leaning against the counter. You only shrug, bringing the cup to your lips. “There’s no way that tastes good.” His nose scrunches in disgust as he watches you drink.

“I’ve had worse.” He was right though, it tastes disgusting, but it’ll do the trick. “Dustin can’t make it, he called earlier saying Erica’s laptop was taking longer than he expected.”

“That little shit,” Steve shakes his head, “I knew he’d bail.”

“I don’t blame him, he’s always around couples between Mike and Lucas.” This morning, the thought of Dustin not being there would’ve stung, but you don’t really want to be here either.

Everything is starting to feel more like a burden rather than tradition. With Margot and Luke thrown into the mix, it’s not as meaningful as it was two years ago. “Plus, now we can all fit comfortably in a car.”

It’s colder outside than what you expected. You stand alone in the driveway as everyone else slowly puts on their coats inside. You can’t help but stare at the passenger seat, remembering all the moments you spent sitting in that very spot.

They were the ones you held closest to your heart. The ones where Steve would sing offkey to his playlists and you’d air guitar every solo. The ones where you’d sit in parking lots and talk for hours about anything and everything because there wasn’t anything else to do in this town. Or last Christmas, when the two of you screamed the lyrics to every Christmas song with Dustin and Robin begging for you to shut up from the back. The four of you ate decorated cookies and drank hot chocolate and rated your favorite houses. Just last year feels like a lifetime ago, you wish more than anything you could go back.

Everyone makes their way out eventually, their noses already turning red from the cold, each of them are desperate to get into the warmth of Steve’s car. Margot makes her way to the passenger seat, unknowingly and out of habit you assume. You watch as Steve looks between the two of you, about to protest. You shake your head, reluctantly taking the middle seat in the back.

The drive is awkward to say the least. Without Dustin’s blabbering, nobody says much of anything. It’s not like last year, the music isn’t loud, there’s no singing, nobody gets excited when you pass a lit house. Steve glances at you through the rearview. Sorry. He mouths, you only shrug, purposely avoiding his gaze and the way that his hand wraps around Margot’s in her lap. Even the brandy wasn’t making this night any more bearable.

“So, Margot,” You begin, unable to take the silence any longer. “What are you studying?”

“I’m studying early childhood education!” She grins, “I want to be a kindergarten teacher. I think children are so… imaginative, I love seeing how they think about things and I want to help them grow as people. Or try to at least.”

“I think you’d be perfect for the job,” You answer truthfully, giving her a reassuring smile. “Are you still studying criminal justice, Steve?” His brows furrow, cocking his head slightly.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He takes his eyes off the road, locking them with yours.

“Just asking a question, it’s not like you tell me anything anymore.” You didn’t mean to say it, you also didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. You aren’t trying to hurt his feelings or get under his skin, it just slipped out. Robin chokes beside you, sinking into her seat as if it’d make her disappear.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks. You don’t answer, crossing your arms and pointedly looking out the window. You can still feel his eyes on you, but he doesn’t push any further. Nobody speaks for the rest of the drive.

You aren’t sure how you made it home, you must’ve fallen asleep in the back of the car. The alcohol caught up to you, only making your head throb as your body is lowered onto your familiar sheets. “Steve?” You call but he doesn’t respond. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that back in the car.” You whisper as blankets are pulled up to your chin. “I love you.”

“I’m sure he loves you too.” You don’t need to open your eyes to know it’s Luke. Your body wilts, you wish you could cry but the tears don’t come. You know drunken confessions never end up well, you’re sure it’s better this way. But you wish Steve could’ve heard, it would’ve been easier that way.

Forever Tags: @superfrankie111 // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73 // @simplechicwithacrazedheart // @youshutthefuckupville // @captainpeggy40 // @alexdamereysmith // @llatpdnmm // @dummiesshort // @quaksonhehe​

Steve Tags: @empathetic-vibrations // @loulouloueh​

Series Tags: @daddystevee​

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Sunflower - Harry Styles AU Series (Volume 9)

The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU.

               Vol. 1  Vol. 2   Vol. 3   Vol. 4.  Vol. 5   Vol. 6   Vol. 7   Vol. 8

**

By the time I made it back to my hotel room after my date with Harry, it was quite late. In fact, Marianne was back before I was, which hardly ever happens. I snuck inside gently closing the door and set my shoes down on the floor.

“So, how was it?” Marianne shot up from her bed.

I jumped, leaning against the door with my hand over my heart, “Fuck, was that necessary?”

“Yes, I need to know how my baby sister’s date went,” she said.

“It went well,” I smiled walking over to sit on my bed.

“Did you fuck?” She asked.

“What? No,” I blushed. “We talked.”

“Interesting,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked her.

“I just didn’t perceive him as the talking type,” she shrugged. “He has a bit of a reputation.”

“Not with me,” I told her. “He’s different.”

“Or it’s an act to get into your pants,” she said.

“Is that all you think about it?” I sighed.

“Not all the time,” she said. “But he is a guy and that’s what they think about. I’m all for you having a good time and livin’ life here, Y/N, but you and Harry just talking isn’t gonna last long. So, if you’re not ready for that, you need to end it before you get hurt.”

I wanted to respond to her, but I could form the words. In a way, she was a right. He did have  reputation, one he admitted to having, but it was different when we were together. At least, I hoped it was different.

“I’m going to change and go to bed,” I said, grabbing my clothes and heading into the bathroom.

**

The next morning I was wide awake just as the sun started to shine in our balcony window. I barely slept at all, Marianne’s words playing over in my head. I knew I shouldn’t let it get to me, but it was hard. I decided I needed to go for a run, something I rarely did, but whenever I did I felt better. I didn’t have any running clothes, so I settled on my bikini top and a pair of shorts. I didn’t bother with shoes because I didn’t feel like carrying them. I scribbled a quick note of my whereabouts and headed down to the beach.

As soon as I hit the shoreline, I picked up my speed as I started to run. My legs quickly started to burn as I pushed myself through the sand. Soon after my lungs felt heavy against my chest, begging me to slow down and catch my breath, but I kept going. I didn’t exactly plan to end up where I did, but when I arrived, I made no intention to turn the other way.

I wasn’t sure what I was doing or what I expected to happen, but it was too late to figure that out. I was standing outside of Harry’s bungalow, tapping on the door. I knew he would be awake already because his shift would be starting within the hour. I heard someone inside making their way to the door, but it wasn’t Harry.

It was the same girl from the night at The Soundstage and she was wearing nothing but his shirt.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“Um… is Harry here?” I asked.

“Oh, he left to go grab breakfast for us,” she smiled. “We worked up quite the appetite.”

“Hm,” I nodded.

“Want me to leave a message for him?” She asked.

“No, it’s fine,” I told her. “In fact, you don’t even have to tell him I was here.”

“Groovy,” she smiled. “Love that top by the way.”

“Uh, thanks,” I said before turning around and walking back towards the hotel.

I had no idea how to feel about what just went down. Harry was just with me until about four hours ago, so there would have been enough time for him and her to be together… but he also told me he wasn’t doing anything with her. The run was supposed to help me clear my mind and figure out what was going on, but it only made it worse.

I was going to have to talk to him about this at some point, but I wasn’t ready for that today. I needed to make sure I was away from the hotel because I couldn’t risk running into him. When I got back to the hotel room, I went straight over to Marianne and shook her away.

“What the fuck?” She groaned.

“How about we go shopping today?” I asked. “I’m sure Daddy will let us take the car.”

“You want to go shopping?” She asked.

“Yeah, why is that so surprising?” I asked.

“Because it’s you. The only shopping you enjoy is at a record store,” she scoffed.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to live life, remember,” I said.

“Okay, let’s go, then,” she said. “But you’re asking Daddy. He’ll say yes to you.”

“Fine, I’ll change and go meet them for breakfast,” I rolled my eyes

“Good, I’ll get another few minutes of sleep,” she smirked.

“Whatever, you better be awake when I get back,” I said.

**

I didn’t exactly want to spend breakfast with my parents because there was a huge possibility that I could run into Harry. However, I knew it would be the only way for Daddy to let me borrow the car. He hardly let me back home, much less in a new city. Because I was so worried about running into Harry, I hadn’t counted on the fact I could run into William. He was currently sitting at the table with my parents and odds are he was up to something.

At that moment, I hesitated on if it was worth going over there or if Marianne and I could just walk to the shops. But it didn’t matter because I was already spotted.

“Oh, honey, I wondered if you would join us,” my mother smiled. “Look who stopped by this morning.”

She pointed over in William’s direction, as if I couldn’t see him sitting right there. It kept everything inside of me to not roll my eyes.

I forced a smile, “Good morning.”

“Morning, Y/N, you’re looking rather radiant this morning,” he smirked.

The fuck?

I blinked my eyes as I sat down, “Uh, thank you.”

“Y/N, before you arrived, William wondered if you had any plans today,” my mother sipped her coffee.

“Oh, actually, Marianne and I would like to go shopping. I wondered if we might borrow the car,” I said.

“Or I could take the two of you,” William intertupped. “A few of my friends and I thought about going into town today, anyway. It would certainly save you from having to drive around.”

“Um, it’s fine. We can go by ourselves, I wouldn’t want to impose on your plans,” I replied.

“Well, sweetheart, I don’t know if I feel comfortable with you and your sister going alone,” my father stated. “Plus, William is being a gentleman by offering.”

“Excellent, I’ll meet you two in the lobby in an hour?” He asked.

“I-” I started.

“Great, see you then,” he said before getting up out of his chair and leaving the dining hall.

I had no idea what just happened. I couldn’t even utter a word as I sat there with my parents.

“William is a lovely boy,” my mother smiled. “I can see the two of you lasting past this summer.”

I looked at my mother and all I could do was force a smile and my breakfast down my throat.

**

Being in the car with William and his friends was very uncomfortable. Not only were all of his friends boys, but they were obviously drunk and high. Marianne sat in the back with them, chatting them up, but I could tell she was even annoyed by them and the situation. I looked out the window with my arms crossed as William drove into town. I could feel his eyes looking over at me every so often and I really wanted to jump out of the car at the next red light.

“Y/N,” William whispered.

I glanced over at him, but didn’t utter a word.

“Look, I wanted to apologize for the other night,” he said. “I came on too strong and I’m sorry. I had a few drinks and they gave me a little courage to make the moves on you.”

“And let me guess, alcohol also affected your hearing and the meaning of the word no?” I scoffed.

“It’s no excuse,” he admitted. “I really am sorry and hoped I could make it up to you. Maybe tonight? I’m having a party on the boat again. Don’t worry we won’t be leaving the dock.”

“I uh… have plans again, I’m sorry,” I muttered.

I saw Marianne looking through the mirror. I knew what she was getting at without actually saying anything. It didn’t matter how much of a jerk William and his friends were, he was the son of our father’s boss and us treating him badly might ruin Daddy’s chances at his promotion.

“You sure are a busy girl,” he said. “What is that you do out there?”

“Stuff,” I shrugged.

“Do your parents know?” He asked.

“Why does that concern you?” I asked him.

“It doesn’t, but your parents seem to like me, and you never know when something might slip up in conversation,” he smirked.

“Where are you going with this?” I asked. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“It’s not blackmail if you’re not doing anything they wouldn’t approve of,” he stated.

“Why do you care so much?” I snapped.

“Because in case you haven’t noticed, I’m someone who gets what I want,” he said. “And right now that’s you. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’ll figure it out. And unless you want Mommy and Daddy to figure it out too, then I suggest you make an appearance at my party tonight.”

I glared at him before looking back at Marianne, who for the first time in all my life looked worried.

**

“You have to tell them,” Marianne said in our room as I got ready.

“Tell them what?” I asked. “That I’ve been lying? That I’m playing in a band despite their wishes and the boss’ son practically threatened me?”

“Yes! To all of that!” She said. “Look, I’m the trouble child, yet I’ve never been put into this situation. I don’t trust that William kid and you need to stay away from him.”

“You’re the one who said we need to be nice to him!” I said.

“That was before I realized what a freak he was,” she said.

“Look, I’m just going to go there tonight, make him think he’s won and then I’ll tell Daddy about the band tomorrow morning. That way William can’t hold that over me again,” I sighed.

“And what will you do if they forbid you from being in the band?” She asked.

“Keep doing it,” I shrugged. “Daddy told me if I wanted to pursue music, this was my time to do it before college and this is my way of doing that.”

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing baby sister,” she said.

I sighed nodding, “Me too.”

**

When I arrived at the party, it was already on the verge of being out of control. Music was blaring, people were puking off the sides, and the smell of weed was noticeable before I even made it to the dock. I looked at my watch knowing I timed it just right. I would be there for an hour before heading to rehearsals. Harry had written new songs that we were going to perform for the record label guy.

Speaking of Harry, due to the drama of the day, I had completely forgotten about the little mishap at Harry’s bungalow earlier that day. Or the whole purpose of me going over there to begin with. Which I guess was the whole reason behind me leaving the hotel, but I would have rather faced that than what I was about to walk into.

Walking onto the boat and into the party, I wondered if William would even notice if I was there or not. The amount of people inside had to be way over the amount that should be on the boat. That was probably why it would be staying on the dock because had it been out in the ocean it would have capsized. I held my breath pushing my way through the crowd of people until I finally found a clear spot in the corner.

I looked around trying to spot William but between the haziness from the smoke and the dimmed lights, that was nearly impossible. After about five minutes, I started heading back out. It was pointless for me to be there and I honestly didn’t care about his stupid blackmail plan. However, just as I was about to head back through the crowd, someone grabbed my hand. That someone being none other than William.

“There you are,” he whispered in my ear. “I wondered when you would decide to show up.

“I’m only here to tell you I don’t fucking care about your stupid threat,” I told him. “I rather deal with my parents than give you what you want.”

“Oh, don’t play like that, girl,” he smirked. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have come here. You would have stayed away.”

“You just think so much of yourself, don’t you,” I rolled my eyes.

“You know you want me,” he whispered.

“Actually, I want nothing to do with you,” I said pushing him away.

“Then why are you still here?” he smirked.

I glared at him, “Fuck you, I’m done and I’m leaving.”

“You’ll be back,” he smirked, chugging his beer. “They always do.”

**

Walking to the Bungalow Valley, I felt dirty and it wasn’t just from the smoke. Once again I could still feel his breath against my skin and his words in my ear. But I couldn’t think about that right now. I needed to focus on rehearsals and my relationship with Harry. Or whatever it was that was going on with me and Harry.

I had stashed my guitar nearby so I wouldn’t have to go back to the hotel. Good thing too because I highly doubt I would have been able to explain away the smell reeking from my clothes. It was already going to be something that I couldn’t ignore once I got to rehearsals. When I walked inside, everyone looked over at me.

“Looks like someone’s been enjoying herself tonight and didn’t invite us,” Jasper jokes.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to go,” I told him. “I didn’t even want to go.”

Harry walked over, “You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, not looking at him.

“Y/N,” he said, reaching towards me.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Let’s get started.”

I feel Harry’s gaze on me, but I don’t break. I keep looking at my guitar as I get it out of its case. I hear him sigh before turning away.

“Okay, so I’ve got a few songs we should try,” he said. “I think these will really impress the record label.”

“Uh, no offense, but why do we need to play a bunch of new songs?” Mitch asked.

“Because he’s already heard the other songs, we need something fresh for him to listen to,” he said. “For him to know we’ve got what it takes and we won’t be a one hit wonder.”

“But shouldn’t we do a few old and new?” Mitch suggested. “It can take a while for us to get used to playing a new song, so if we have an entire set list worth of new songs, that’s risky.”

“We’re gonna do the new songs, alright?” Harry said. “Any more questions?”

Everyone shook their heads and we got started. All throughout the rehearsal, I could feel the frustration in the room. Harry was frustrated because nothing was sounding like it was supposed to in his head and everyone else was frustrated because we couldn’t get it down the way he wanted. Now granted, everything was sounding pretty good, at least in the terms of just learning the song.

The tension was so thick in the room it felt like everyone was suffocating inside. I hadn’t realized just how much time had passed by until Jasper finally decided to call it.

“Look, we’ve been this for hours and we’re not going to make any more progress tonight. Besides, the majority of us have early shifts in the morning, so let’s just call it a night and pick it back up tomorrow,” he suggested.

“Fine, yeah, whatever,” Harry mumbled, waving him off and grabbing himself some water.

Everyone else didn’t have to be told twice before they packed up their shit and left, leaving me and Harry alone. I just finished packing up my guitar when Harry walked over.

“Can I walk you back to the hotel?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Here let me,” he said, taking the guitar case from my hand.

“Thank you,” I told him.

We headed out and started walking slowly along the beach towards The Malibu Breeze.

“So, want to tell me what’s wrong?” He asked. “Or where you were earlier?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I told him. “But there is something... “

“What is it?” He asked.

“This morning… I came to your Bungalow before your shift and-” I sighed.

“And what?” He asked.

“The girl from the other night was there. She was wearing your shirt and insinuated you two fucked,” I whispered.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled, running his hand over his face. “Y/N, I’m… wow. I can’t believe this. Look, nothing happened with her. I want nothing to do with her.”

“Then why was she there?” I questioned.

“I have no idea, honestly,” he said. “She was there when I got back after our date. She was asleep in my bed, so I left and crashed Mitch and Sarah.”

Part of me wasn’t sure if I should believe him, but so far he hadn’t given me a reason to not trust him.

“Okay,” I nodded. “I believe you.”

“Why did you come to see me anyway?” He asked.

“I-” I started, but then I was interrupted by a voice in the shadows.

“So, this is your big bad secret,” a voice smirked.

I froze knowing exactly who it belonged to.

“What the fuck do you want?” Harry asked.

“Oh, nothing,” William smirked. “Just Y/N left my party in such a hurry, I wanted to make sure she got back okay. I didn’t realize she wouldn’t come back until four hours later.”

“That’s where you were?” Harry asked. “With him?”

“It's not what you think, trust me,” I told him.

“Wow, I heard your sister got around, but I never thought you would be type to fuck the help,” William laughed.

“You better shut your fucking mouth,” Harry snapped.

“And what are you going to do?” William stepped up to him. “In case you forgot, my father owns this hotel. You’re one phone call away from being fired. Then what? You’d have no place to go, no place rehearse for your shitty little band.”

Harry’s grip on my guitar case tightens. I can see the whites of his knuckles even in the darkness. I place my hand over his.

“He’s not worth it,” I whispered.

“Ouch,” William said. “Once again you’ve wounded me, woman.”

“Fuck off, William,” I snapped. “I already told you I’m done with your bullshit.”

“Well if that’s the case, then I guess your Daddy will be looking for a new job as well,” he smirked. “Sure hate for him to lose it right before his baby girl goes to college.”

I glare at him before walking closer to him. “You think you’re the fucking man with all your threats. But guess what, it’s not going to work on me. You can keep spewing your bullshit out of your mouth, but that’s all it is bullshit. I’m never going to be with you. I’m never going to fuck you and I’m sure as hell never going to bend at your will just because you’re a spoiled, entitled, piece of shit who is nothing without Daddy’s money. So, go ahead, go run to Daddy and tell him someone finally called you out for being a little bitch, and that everyone else should pay for your fucked up life.”

Fire burned in William’s eyes, “You stupid bitch!” He snapped, pushing me down to the ground.

That was all it took for Harry to drop my guitar case and charge at William. Next thing, I knew Harry and William were on the ground. Harry was sending punch after punch to William’s face. I rushed over to Harry trying to get him to stop. William deserved every bit that he was getting, but I knew it wouldn’t end well for Harry if he didn’t stop.

In the midst of my intervening, William had pushed Harry onto his back, so that he was on top. I tried pusing William off of him, but William pushed me instead. I fell once again onto the sand. I needed to get help, but I was also afraid of getting Harry in trouble. We were still close enough to the Valley, that I ran over to get Jasper and Mitch.

They both ran back with him and separated William and Harry. Both were bleeding and had black eyes as they tried to control their breathing.

“This isn’t over Styles,” William spat.

He pushed himself out of Jasper’s arms, spitting blood out of his mouth.

“You even so much as look in Y/N’s direction or her sister’s and I will mess up your pretty little face even more,” Harry spat back.

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered before turning away and walking down the opposite side of the beach.

I rushed over to Harry, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Hm, fine,” he groaned.

“We need to get him back to The Valley, get him some ice on his face before it gets too swollen,” Jasper sighed.

“I’ll go with you,” I said.

“No, you’ve done enough,” Jasper sighed. “Besides, it’s late.”

“I-” I started again.

“He’s right,” Harry said. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll walk her back,” Mitch said. “Make sure he doesn’t try anything.”

“Thanks, mate,” Harry said.

“I-I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Harry gave a small smile before turning away and walking back with Jasper. I sighed sadly because once again, everything was fucked up and it was all my fault.

**

I know it’s been FOREVER since I last updated this. Hopefully, its not terrible and you’re looking forward to the next one. That will probably be updated this weekend, so be on the lookout! Also, if you have an ideas or something you want to see happen in future posts, let me know! :)

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

if you have a question about aussie slang, for a fic or whatevs, please just ask i don't know all of it, but we do have some fun words and sayings that are day to day statements

esp. the more rural you go

not everyone has the full accent though, because you do get a lot of pressure at work to come across... professional or whatever.

the only one i've never been sure of being an Actual Phrase, or if it Became A Phrase after popularisation on a tv show, is "Stone the Flaming Crows" bc a dude from Neighbours used to say it frequently.

examples of day to day stuff i can think of right now

mad as a frog in a sock (angry about something, went off, off the shits)

mad as a cut snake (usually means 'they're nuts', but can also mean they exploded with anger, usually contextual)

she'll be right (it's fine - can be a flippant statement, can be reassurance, etc)

drongo / galah - (idiot, not very smart, wanker, etc)

dunny = toilet

thunderbox/outhouse / long-drop - usually outdoor toilet

dry as a nun's nasty / dry as a dead dingo's donger (I am thirsty, or It Is Hot AF/we need rain so bad)

chuck a u-ey (do a u-turn)

Oi! (Hey I want your attention/i was surprised, general exclamation, stop that, you are in a lot of fucking trouble mate - depends on the tone of voice and volume) like "OI!" says aunty ruth has just found her dentures in jello and she knows you did it, etc

Bugger off (go away, or sometimes a statement of disbelief)

Yeah nah /Nah yeah (can mean yes, no or maybe depending on what was said directly before the statement)

you cant pull the wool over my eyes - you can't lie to me like that / i can see you are not telling the truth

shut your gob / put a sock in it / put a cork in it - (shut up / shut the FUCK up / close your mouth or i will shut it for you) depends on tone

Ya wally (you idiot)

Roo = kangaroo

o = can be affixed to anything to shorten it at the servo - gone to the service station, arvo - afternoon, smoko - morning tea, bottlo - where the grog is

goon/goonsack - wine in a box

grog - alcohol

stubbie - beer, ususally

boardies - board shorts

rashie - swimming shirt,

slip, slop, slap - ancient proverb for avoiding sunburn. singing pelican.

thongs - footwear

sheila = female / woman, don't hear this a lot at the moment tbh except in certain contexts or from specific people

'Getting rowdy' = things are heating up, people are riled up, a fight is about to/has just broken out, etc.

DJ's like a mad cunt = one very specific meme about a bad PM we had like 10 years ago. i can't tell you how many PM's ago, it's been game of thrones here lmao

Beyond the black stump / Out whoop-whoop / references to timbuktu (quite a distance away)

strewth!/crickey!/bloody hell - (exclamation of surprise, expletive replacement, etc)

flat out like a lizard drinking (tired / drunk / exhausted / sleeping)

pull a harry holt - (I've heard a dozens variations of this one, it means Go Missing / Disappear, often used as a joke. PM Holt went swimming one day and disappeared)

have a stickybeak (to poke your nose in/investigate/look around)

chuck a wobbly/throw a tanty/chuck a tanty/throw a wobbly (throw a tantrum, i have legit never seen anyone successfully deescalate a situation by telling someone not to chuck a wobbly or throw a tanty, go figure lmao)

bogan - (very specific kind of low-income, generally white, people. sort of like rednecks, but with more stereotypical aussie features like a mullet, singlet tops, sunnies, stubbies, etc. tend to fall under the liberal party ideology - who are our republicans... )

ankle-biters / rugrats / little takkers / gremlins / nippers - (kids, usually the littler ones)

tiff - argument, small fight (had a tiff, had a row)

pav = pavlova

piss/whizz/take a piss = going to pee

vegemite - delicious

Kiwi = New Zealander

Banana benders - the disrespectful bs that apparently other states call anyone living in Queensland, the wankers

station - farming areas that have sheep or livestock usually, have farmhands etc.

dole bludger(s) - (anyone on Centrelink, whether they want to be or not, with no other employment. but like, a lot of people on centrelink have a job that does not cover enough and need additional financial supports to meet a minimum wage, or are students or apprentices, etc. there are people who go on centrelink on and off to avoid engaging in the jobseeking stuff, they are the real dole bludgers, but a lot of richer people tend to call anyone on 'welfare' bludgers)

don't you come the raw prawn with me - (do not lie to me / don't try that shit with me, mate / I wasn't born yesterday /etc)

dak/dack - to dack someone is to come up behind them and yank their pants down (or skirts). Often taking out your boxers, too.)

budgie smugglers - (speedoes, male swimwear)

togs/toggs or cozzie (swimwear, any kind. cozzie = costume)

mozzie - (mosquito)

better than a kick up the backside /better than a kick in the arse - (pretty self explanatory, one of those phrases parents use to get slightly hurt kids to start laughing and/or coworkers to commisserate about new work rules, etc)

I wouldn't piss on (name) if they were on fire - (self-explanatory, you hate them, or they're a useless tit or an insufferable person /a suckup etc, and you would gladly hand them a match)

one for the road = getting a drink for the road, usually. can also make a joke of it like, "one last piss for the road" = I'm going to the bathroom before I leave

here's your handbag, what's your hurry - probs not an aussie phrase but a common joke in my family

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

So like, there's some words and items from Australian Indigenous culture that often get used wrong in stereotypical characters, like saying 'gone walkabout', using 'cooee', making digeridoo jokes, and making some really uncomfy 'savages' statements can be very disrespectful. You might want to go looking into Australia's fucked up policies and historical (and only recent) situations before starting any arguments about this stuff... in many ways it mirrors the cruelty of american colonisers to native american peoples, etc.

Avoid some phrases. Your character gone to cool their head? He's gone off on to soak his head, or he's on his bike (gone away) but he'll be back... You can use 'Oi, dickhead!'

Please don't mock the names of towns or places, they are often the names from the traditional custodians and inhabitants.

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

Random things:

We drive on the left side of the road, driver's side reversed.

More of our cars are automatic than manual. Utes aren't atypical, but bigger vehicles are out in rural areas because more than a few of the rural roads are poorly maintained or dirt, with potholes that yoyo your soul into your body.

If you have a character on a long drive on a non-highway, or rural road: +if you are on a one-lane road and someone is comingthe other way, you both move half-on, half-off; for big vehicles or trucks, you can choose to pull off completely and stop. Just for safety, esp. in rain, fog, mist or late at night. +at one-lane bridges, you have a give way sign on one side. if you want your characters to have a moment of 'pause to look at each other while driving' or 'a quiet moment of reflection', have them wait for another car or truck to pass from the other side. These can be a few metres long, to like, a really long bridge. +They may pass markers that say 'flood level marker' with numbers of 2, 3 or 5 metres. Could be useful to remark on if your fic needs a reason for them to have a crisis. +Bushfire warning signs (from Low to Catastrophic) are frequent +Animal Crossing signs are very frequent, and often have a wildlife rescue number on them +Water restriction signs are in most small towns, they range from levels 1 to 6. This can change what the characters are allowed to do with water in little towns, etc. +You may occasionally find a small servo and one or two houses. +pubs don't open/won't serve alcohol until after 10am. the joke has always been, 'beer on your cornflakes' but you will never be able to actually get that unless you preplanned the night before in your hotel room. +Around dawn and dusk, a lot of animals like hares, kangaroos, wallabies, sometimes echidnas and koalas and little numbat things, and snakes and bushmice will be close to the road. Sometimes dashing across. They do not react logically to cars approaching, and will leap out at random. Hares do this zigzag nonsense. If you need the character to hit the brakes frantically, or swerve, this is a good reason. If you are ever driving here and see an animal on the side of the road, flip lights to low beam, slow down and watch to see how they react. If you can. If there's a truck blaring down on you, you may not be able to.

+Emus are in more rural areas. Echidnas sometimes appear on fringes of towns though.

+Kookaburras are a lovely creature, I have rescued a few and they are nice... but their laugh is very grating when it goes off super early in the morning. They eat snakes (good) and baby birds (not so good).

+Lots of snakes round here. LOTS. Carpet Snakes are pretty common, red-belly black snakes, eastern brown (big danger!!!), whip snakes have declined in my region, keelback snakes, this one black and white banded one we found deceased, etc. Snakes can climb, snakes can SWIM. Putting something that stinks around a campsite MAY help, but not always.

+Never go swimming in a dam you don't own, and that hasn't been checked, and if no one knows where you are. How deep is it? What's on the bottom? How stirred is the water? etc.

+Kangaroos CAN drown you. They have perfected this attack, and will do it to humans, dogs and other pursuers alike. They can also eviscerate you with their hind paws or shatter your ribs with a kick. The 'boxing' they do is exceptionally violent. This seems to surprise people, but like, giraffes can kill each other by slamming their heads into each other, you think a 7 ft swole motherfucking cryptid can't do harm? They can be lovely tho, if they trust you. But DO NOT GO PETTING WILDLIFE.

+Dropbears, austrilanicus vericanthus bitus, are real. We do make jokes about them, but they are a Problem. The pee on yourself thing won't ward them off, that's more about working out which tourists are the most gullible (and if they run with it, the moistest) lmao. Akubras and other thicker-layered headwear,

+We have wild dogs and feral pigs. Do not fuck with the feral pigs, some are HUGE, and no... they're not just pigs who escaped farms, these are MASSIVE motherfuckers who will Get You if they See You. Rustling in the night outside the tent? Good Luck.

+Koalas should not be picked up directly. They have claws, and a lot of them have chamydia. I mean if a character saves one in a fic that's fine I guess, but like... someone's getting antibiotics after that lmao. They are bigger than you think, dumber than you think, and sometimes they have to be chased across a highway with a windscreen cover bc they're not very bright and keep failing to climb metal fences, lmaoooo

+Towns of about 20-30k will have more shops (some franchise, some local owned), servos, fast food places and usually at least two to three shopping centres. Usually small level entertainments like a cinema, or local groups. +Towns with 10-20k, may have one or two major shopping centres, servos (tracks and RVs catered to), possibly a maccas, and the majority of stores will be local-owned. May have a cinema, but not one that has the newest releases. Local council may have more festivals, or 'that one thing they're known for'. +0-10k towns have a small local store, prices usually a bit higher. A servo, often with capacity for trucks. Local festivals. Characters can cop a bit of side-eye in these places, esp. if they don't fit the traditional ideas or are loud/violently american. +Grey nomads are a thing. Old people with fancy caravans who drive So Slow, and move all around aus. Several refused to stop during covid and it was like, WHO DO YOU THNK WE'RE TRYING TO KEEP ALIVE BY STOPPING YOU MOVING THROUGH MULTIPLE TOWNS???

+Some rural areas have legit red dirt, its always super cool to look at. Some places have light brown to dark brown, some have more chalky colours or yellowish dirt. Depends.

+Reminder: Australia has very specific gun laws, if your character/s have weapons then they may need to be sneaky or store them specifically in the vehicle. Although if you're talking about like, mad max type rules, then who cares. But if you have them get into a gun fight in a town, the police will come, etc.

Dunno, just ask if you have a question... just trying to think of random things to paint a picture if you have a character over here for a roadtrip or mission or whatever.

[ibijau]

jc/nhs/lxc get drunk, talk about stuff, and cuddle

finally kicked my ass into finishing this, because today sucks and I needed a little softness. Also available on AO3.

Jiang Cheng looked down at the jars of wine with obvious contempt, but Nie Huaisang did not take it personally. He’d never known the man to look at anything with any expression other than contempt. It was just the way his face was.

“It’s stupid and it’s not going to work,” Jiang Cheng snapped, though he still followed him on the path to the Hanshi. “Everyone knows he doesn’t drink.”

“It’s Emperor’s Smile, it hardly counts as drinking,” Nie Huaisang chirped. “Your brother drinks that stuff as if it were tea, it can’t be very strong.”

“Not my brother. And the alcohol isn’t the only problem. Zewu-Jun won’t see anyone.”

“Good that I’m not just anyone then. He’ll open the door for me.”

Jiang Cheng looked unconvinced but didn’t bother arguing. He probably thought that Nie Huaisang would soon be proven wrong and that he’d get to gloat in front of the Hanshi’s closed door. It wasn’t entirely impossible that it would happen that way. Nie Huaisang was convinced that if Lan Xichen were to open the door to anyone it would be him, but he had no way to be sure. Not unless he tried.

For all of his bravado, Nie Huaisang still hesitated at the door of the Hanshi. He was still almost sure that Lan Xichen would accept to see him, but the rest of his plan was…

His eyes darted toward Jiang Cheng, with his arms crossed on his chest, looking ready to gloat when this didn’t work and yet with something like eagerness on his face. This was why they were here, although Jiang Cheng hadn’t been informed of it of course. Nie Huaisang was the only person who could get that door to open but he wasn’t the one with the power to draw Lan Xichen back into the world. It had stung to come to that conclusion but… Nie Huaisang was nothing if not used to disappointment.

Beside it would be nice, he’d decided, to use his powers of scheming and make something good happen this time, so that helped with the bitterness that still choked him at the thought of what he was aiming for.

Nie Huaisang knocked on the door.

“Xichen-gege? It’s Huaisang.”

There was only silence in answer to this call. Already Jiang Cheng was smirking in triumph, looking ready to gloat that of course, everything would be exactly as awful as he had expected. Before he could say anything, Nie Huaisang knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Come on, Xichen-gege. Let’s talk? I think we have a lot to chat about.”

Silence again, and Nie Huaisang sighed. Perhaps he had underestimated Lan Xichen’s resentment and overestimated his need for closure. He glanced at Jiang Cheng who shrugged, obviously trying to hide his disappointment. It would have been rude to insist, so without a word they both turned around, ready to return to the rooms that had been prepared for them.

They had only taken a few steps when they heard the slide of wood against wood behind them. Both of them turned in unison to find Lan Xichen at the door.

A pang of guilt shook Nie Huaisang like lightning. It had only been a few months since he had last seen Lan Xichen, but time had not been kind on the other man. He looked too thin, his skin too pale, his beautiful long hair was dirty and a mess of knots. His eyes were fixed on Jiang Cheng, whose presence must have been a shock.

Nie Huaisang had always been good at surprising others, and at taking advantage of it. He rushed to the door, grabbed Lan Xichen’s arm, and pulled him inside with the sweetest smile he could manage at such a time.

“Xichen-gege, I’m so relieved to see you again. You don’t mind that I brought Sandu Shengshou, do you?”

“I…”

“Only, I couldn’t leave him alone with your brother and Wei Wuxian,” Nie Huaisang laughed, motionning for Jiang Cheng to follow them inside. “Do you know how insufferable they are? Jiang Cheng, tell them how awful they are.”

“Very,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, hovering on the doorstep. “Sect Leader Lan, if it’s not a good time for you, we’ll go.”

Lan Xichen stared at him like a startled rabbit, which Nie Huaisang would have found immensely amusing if it hadn't been so worrying. Lan Xichen was not a man to easily let his emotions overcome him. Nie Huaisang gently squeezed his arm, bringing the older man’s attention to himself.

“Zewu-Jun, you’ve been alone a long while now. We were both worried for you, so we thought it would be nice to pay you a visit.” Nie Huaisang raised the two jars of wine he had brought, and gave a crooked smile. “See? I even brought something to drink. But as Sandu Shengshou said, if you’d rather be left alone, we’ll comply.”

The way Lan Xichen looked down at him hurt. It also hurt when Lan Xichen finally realised that Nie Huaisang had been holding his arm that entire time and pulled himself free with a sharp gesture.

“What are you planning now, Huaisang?” He asked in a too soft voice.

“You can’t stay alone forever,” Nie Huaisang replied, as sincere as he was still capable of being. “We’re not those you lost but… we’re your friends too, aren’t we?”

It was a bold claim to make after everything that had happened. Indeed, Lan Xichen tensed and frowned, pinching his lips slightly as if to stop himself from denying the claim. If it had been only the two of them, Nie Huaisang could easily imagine being sent away at that moment. But that was why Jiang Cheng had to be there as well. He was probably the last person left whose relationship to Lan Xichen had not yet been tainted and corrupted by resentment.

Lan Xichen must have come to the same conclusion. His eyes turn to Jiang Cheng, and he manages something that could pass for a smile.

“Do come in, Sect Leader Jiang,” he says, still too softly. “The two of you are here already, there is little point in sending you away.”

At last, Jiang Cheng stepped inside, far too cautiously, as if he expected Lan Xichen to change his mind at any moment. At the same time, Lan Xichen still looked like a frightened rabbit torn between staying still and dashing away. 

Nie Huaisang ignored both of them. He dropped the jars of wine on the table, then went looking for something to drink from. It had been a while, but he still remembered where everything was in the Hanshi, and had no trouble finding three bowls for them to use. With a boldness and confidence he did not quite feel, Nie Huaisang sat at the table and started pouring wine for all of them. 

"Let's drink!" he said, gesturing for the other two to sit with him, as if he were the host. 

Out of respect, Jiang Cheng allowed Lan Xichen to chose his seat first. There was some hesitation there, but in the end Lan Xichen sat opposite Nie Huaisang. It would force him to see the other man, yes, but that was also the spot that allowed the most distance between them. Jiang Cheng sat at one of the other sides left, awkwardly looking like a buffer between them but also, and most importantly, closer to Lan Xichen than Nie Huaisang was. 

"I'm not sure I should," Lan Xichen noted, looking at the wine as if it were poison. "What is the occasion?" 

The end of his seclusion hopefully, although of course Nie Huaisang could not say that. 

"Do we really need a reason to have a little fun?" he chuckled instead. "Zewu-Jun, everything has been so complicated lately, don't we deserve to just relax?" 

It was a flimsy argument at best, and it said a lot about Lan Xichen's state that he simply rolled with it and carefully sipped some of the wine. Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng drank as well. Emperor's Smile was worthy of its reputation, although Nie Huaisang usually preferred fruitier drinks for his part. 

"So, how was the conference?" Lan Xichen asked, as polite a host as ever. If not for the way he looked, Nie Huaisang would have felt transported back to simpler days. 

And so, they chatted a little about news from the cultivation world. Lan Xichen appeared sincerely interested by every piece of news they had to share, making it clear he had truly been isolated these last few months. With his easy, open personality and friendly nature, it could only have made worse an already fragile state. 

Indeed, the longer they talked, the more animated Lan Xichen became. He mostly listened at first, but before long he was giving his opinion on certain matters, or smiling as the other two complained about their problems, which were many. Without a Chief Cultivator to play the judge, it had often become quite difficult to settle certain disputes. 

“I trusted him, you know,” Jiang Cheng suddenly complained.

“Wei Wuxian?” Nie Huaisang asked, since this wasn’t his first time drinking with the other sect leader and he had noticed a pattern. This was Jiang Cheng's second cup, and a certain topic was usually unavoidable. 

“Jin Guangyao,” came the correction, and instantly something changed in the air.

Nie Huaisang shot a glance at Lan Xichen who stared at Jiang Cheng as if he were some dangerous and particularly venomous snake. Jiang Cheng did not appear to notice, looking down at his empty bowl.

“Weird little fellow at first,” he grumbled, “but… nice. And then after Nightless City, he was always so good to A-Ling, made sure he had a good wet-nurse, that he was well taken care of… let me visit whenever I liked even when his father looked like he didn’t want me around. Seemed just happy that A-Ling had some family left, and I was happy too. I was impressed by the way he could handle everything, his sect and this baby that wasn’t his, and then his own marriage… even after he had his own son, he was still so good to A-Ling. Guess it touched me or something.”

He sighed, and so did Lan Xichen.

“He loved his nephew,” the older man whispered, keeping his voice low as if it hurt him to say that. “He was always excited to speak about him. He really liked Jin Zixuan, you know. At least, I always thought he did. Obviously…”

So he’d reached that stage of it, Nie Huaisang figured. He’d gone through that too. Doubt. Questioning every memory to find hidden meaning behind every action. It could drive a man mad. Clearly it was taking its toll on Lan Xichen who did not have a character made to handle these things.

“I think he liked him well enough,” Nie Huaisang said. “I think he didn’t lie about anyone he liked. It’s hard to fake that sort of things after all.”

“You did,” Lan Xichen accused. “He thought you liked him. I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” Nie Huaisang quickly protested, before realising what he’d just said and how earnest it had sounded. Uh. Perhaps that Emperor’s Smile was stronger than he’d thought after all… but at least, the other two did not appear to have noticed what was wrong with his tone. “I also liked him I suppose. He was nice to me. Bought me nice trinkets. I’ve always been weak to pretty things.”

Without meaning to, he glanced at Lan Xichen first, then at Jiang Cheng. A weakness to beauty indeed. Ah, well, if this worked…

“Jin Guangyao certainly had an eye for the finer things,” Jiang Cheng agreed, glancing at Nie Huaisang since he’d spoken of that, then at Lan Xichen where his gaze lingered a little longer. He probably wasn’t even realising. Adorable. “Made it damn hard to find gifts for A-Ling,” he complained, tearing his eyes away from Lan Xichen. “What can you get a kid when you know his better uncle has probably already given him something stronger and prettier?”

“A-Yao said that his nephew always seemed to enjoy his time in Lotus Piers,” Lan Xichen protested with a gentle smile. “He wouldn’t have sent the child to you so often if it hadn’t made Jin Ling happy to be with you. I’m sure he enjoyed every gift coming from you, and that he still treasures every memory… and in the end, memories are all we have.”

That did little to lighten Jiang Cheng's mood, who ragefully emptied another cup. Lan Xichen too drank some more, but more calmly. When he was finished, he carefully looked at his cup, as if it might hold answers to every question he’d had since discovering the truth.

“We were not lovers,” he announced, the alcohol forcing him to speak more slowly than usual. “I know what everyone says. Even my brother. But we were not.”

“Because he was married?” Jiang Cheng asked bluntly.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at the obvious question. Of course that was the only reason Lan Xichen would have hesitated to give in to…

“I was never interested in him that way,” Lan Xichen protested, still looking into his empty cup. “He was my friend, I admired his strength and his…” he paused, and half laughed. “His righteousness, of all things. I knew he had done wrong sometimes, but which of us hasn’t? I encouraged him to join the Wens and spy for us during the war, I’m half guilty of his crimes there. But it was for a right cause. I always could tell myself that his moments of darkness had been for the greater good. He was my friend.”

“You were always touching him,” Nie Huaisang noted. Accused. Regretted. Envied. "Did that mean nothing?" 

“Even when he was Chief Cultivator, people treated him as dirty because of his mother,” Lan Xichen replied, tapping his fingers on his cup. “And people say Lan disciples are a paragon of virtue, so I thought I’d… I don’t know what I thought. It backfired, anyway. Huaisang, did you think I loved him?”

Instead of answering, Nie Huaisang shrugged. He wasn’t sure what he had thought. Perhaps not love, no, because the way Lan Xichen had looked at Jin Guangyao wasn’t the way he looked at Jiang Cheng, but… something, for sure.

Lan Xichen’s face fell at that non-answer.

“Huaisang, is that why you made me kill him?”

Cold seizes Nie Huaisang who wanted nothing more than to run away from this conversation. But he knew… of course he had known they would probably end up discussing what had happened that fateful night. He had thought he was ready. He had thought wrong.

“You did not kill him,” he alluded, avoiding the question. “My brother did. Justice of a sort, I suppose.”

“He would have died anyway. That wound was fatal.” Lan Xichen took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. “I made sure it was fatal.”

The cold inside Nie Huaisang intensified until he could not breathe anymore. The blow inflicted to Jin Guangyao had looked bad, certainly, but he had assumed that had been nothing more than instinct or accident. To hear Lan Xichen confess to it being deliberate was… Nie Huaisang couldn't deal with the trust it implied, a trust he had used and abused and destroyed with no less cruelty than Jin Guangyao did. The only difference was he was still around to carry that guilt.

While Nie Huaisang wallowed in the horror of that confession, Jiang Cheng scuttled closer and, with unexpected gentleness, put a hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder.

“Jin Guangyao isn’t worthy of your regrets,” he said with intense sincerity. “What he said about his generosity, about never harming you… bullshit. He killed your oldest friend. How’s that supposed not to harm you? He took your spiritual powers to keep you docile, didn’t he? Not something a generous friend would do. He was scared of you. If he was ready to kill Jin Ling, he was ready to kill anyone.”

Lan Xichen's lips parted in a soft gasp at the harsh words and, doubtlessly helped by the alcohol, a few tears escaped him. Surely the wine could be blamed as well when Jiang Cheng, after some hesitation, took his hand from Lan Xichen's shoulder and brought it to his cheek instead, swiping away the tears with a gentleness that left Nie Huaisang choking with envy over both of them. 

"You learn to live with what you can't change," Jiang Cheng promised. "And it's easier if you're not alone. You have your family and your sect. And you have friends as well." 

A new sort of guilt twisted Nie Huaisang’s stomach. He knew he had not been there enough for Jiang Cheng after Nightless City and the siege. He had wanted to, but that was when things had started going downhill for Nie Mingjue. Between their arguments and the need to enjoy those rare moments of peace, Nie Huaisang had had little time for anyone else. 

Maybe if he had paid more attention to others, if he had been a better friend to Jiang Cheng, if he had done more to earn Lan Xichen's trust… but there was little sense of wondering what could have happened if he hadn't been alone. 

As Jiang Cheng said, he just had to live with what he couldn't change… while still changing what he could. 

He stared at the other two men, Jiang Cheng's newfound gentleness, Lan Xichen allowing himself to be approached again. The rest was in their hands. All Nie Huaisang could do now was look for an excuse to leave these two alone and, with the help of the wine, they were sure to end up talking about… 

"I owe you an apology, Nie Huaisang," Lan Xichen said, turning to look at him. "I have not been the friend you and your brother deserved." 

Jiang Cheng's hand fell down from Lan Xichen's cheek and suddenly, Nie Huaisang found himself at the center of both their attention. He could have cursed them. This wasn't about gathering pity for himself. He really needed to go before these two missed their chance. 

"Zewu-Jun, you cannot blame yourself for not knowing what I purposefully hid from you," Nie Huaisang protested with an awkward laugh. "On the contrary, you should probably blame me for much of what happened. If I had spoken earlier…" 

"Then why didn't you?" Jiang Cheng cut him. "I'd have listened." 

"Would you? When I had no concrete proof, nothing by my memory of a song played wrong?" 

"Yes," Jiang Cheng said without a second of hesitation. 

Nie Huaisang felt taken aback by the certainty of his tone, but quickly recovered. 

"That's easy to say now, Wanying. You have forgotten how you were at the time. You did not trust anyone back then." 

"I trusted you," Jiang Cheng claimed with unbearable earnestness. "I still do. I'm here because you said I should be, aren't I?"

Curse the wine, Nie Huaisang thought, and curse Jiang Cheng as well for choosing this moment to open up. His eyes darted toward Lan Xichen, certain that there would not be anything kinder than pity and disdain to be seen there. 

He wasn't sure what to call the expression on that too handsome face. A little pity, yes, but disdain didn't seem the right word. 

"You said I should not stay alone," Lan Xichen whispered. "Neither should you. You said I should not shun my friends. The same could be said of you. You are no more solitary by nature than either of us, Huaisang."

"Don't be so generous, Zewu-Jun," Nie Huaisang scolded in a strangled voice. "You should know better now than to forgive the wrong person." 

"You're not the wrong person, you idiot," Jiang Cheng huffed. Then, after a second of reflection, he added: "You're not Jin Guangyao, no matter what you think of yourself. So stop being so dumb and let us like you."

Before Nie Huaisang could fully register this and get angry that Jiang Cheng had so carelessly brought to light the fear he barely admitted to himself, a hand on his wrist distracted him. 

Lan Xichen's hand. 

"We all need a new start after everything that has come to light," Lan Xichen said with such kindness that Nie Huaisang nearly cried from the pain it caused to his heart. "Why not do it together, all three of us? There is no one I'd want at my side more than the two of you." 

"As your friends?" Nie Huaisang asked, fighting tears. 

Lan Xichen took a moment to think on it. His grip on Nie Huaisang’s wrist tightened slightly as he extended his other hand toward Jiang Cheng who did not hesitate to take it. 

"As friends," Lan Xichen agreed, before shuffling to link his fingers with the other two men's. "And perhaps as something else as well, when we are ready for it. I think I would like that. I hope you would as well."

That was the last drop. Nie Huaisang broke into tears and although he would later blame the wine, it had more to do with the horrifying realisation that these two men, his friends, still accepted him and cared for him after everything he'd done. 

"This isn't how tonight was supposed to go," he sobbed. 

"Good," Jiang Cheng retorted. "Your plans always suck." 

Nie Huaisang laughed, then cried again when Jiang Cheng took his free hand. 

For the first time in a decade, he felt hopeful. 

Nie Huaisang came back to consciousness with a dreadful headache pounding behind his eyes, and promised himself to be more careful with Emperor's Smile in the future. No matter how easily Wei Wuxian drank it, that wine was not light. 

Realising that he was feeling too warm for the season, Nie Huaisang cracked an eye open and quickly realised two things. First, he was not in the guest quarters of the Cloud Recesses. Second, he was not alone in bed. Instead he was plastered against the left side of Lan Xichen, with Jiang Cheng on the other side, his hand fisted into Nie Huaisang’s inner robes as if to keep him in place. 

Things were a little fuzzy but… They had continued drinking a little while after their emotional conversation. When the wine had been gone, Lan Xichen had said that he simply couldn't send them back to their rooms, not when it was dark and well past curfew. Somehow, in their drunken state, it had seemed like an excellent idea for all three of them to share Lan Xichen's bed, even though there was a perfectly comfortable sofa available for Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang was more than fine with sleeping on the floor. 

Emperor's Smile was dangerous stuff. 

At least Nie Huaisang was a little more in control now, in spite of the hangover. He still had a chance to do the right thing. He tried to sit up, only for two sets of arms to tighten their grip on him. 

"Don't," Jiang Cheng ordered. 

"Stay," Lan Xichen pleaded. 

He should have fought them off and left them to deal with themselves without him. It would have been the kinder thing to do. 

But it was warm, being held by these two men who refused to hate him, and Nie Huaisang wasn't selfless enough to give it up. He closed his eyes and pressed himself a little closer against Lan Xichen so he could reach over him and touch Jiang Cheng as well. 

He'd given them every chance he could to make a better choice. If they still both wanted him, he could only accept it. 

[morningstarwriting]

College AU

So this was an idea that popped into my brain and I had to write it. I don’t know if this has already been done, but if it has oh well. I had a lot of fun writing this as it was my first time writing for Obey Me! I hope that you enjoy it! 

───────────────────────────────────

「 Lucifer 」

This man will be a lawyer

Don’t argue with him

He’s always right

Mainly cause he’s majoring in psychology

But he’s not stopping there

He’s actually double majoring

Psychology and History

And it ALSO doesn’t stop there

He’s getting a minor in philosophy

This means that he’s going to school for five years instead of four though

He’s so insanely intelligent though

He psycho-analyzes his brothers all the time

The only ones who don’t really care about what he has to say are Belphegor and Satan

They regularly plot against him

He always knows it

He blames it on daddy issues

This just means that even when he’s with his brothers, he’s constantly working

Always doing his schoolwork

He’s also the Vice President position of Student Government

He was beat out for the President position by Diavolo

And forced his brothers to join in the other positions

He’s also an Admissions Representative

He’s the perfect person to look at applications and determine if people are suited to attend his school

Diavolo also has this job with him

They spend countless of hours together all the time

And he knows that people ship them

He knows

There is one thing he refuses to take part in on campus, though

The only Greek life you’ll catch him in is an Honor Society with Greek Letters in the name

He isn’t the biggest fan of Greek Life

Or parties

However, he was convinced to go to a party by Asmo once

Never again

The biggest perk for his brothers is that he’s so ridiculously busy

That he can’t really constantly be on their cases

At least that’s what they think

He finds his ways

He finds a lot of ways

「 Mammon 」

He went into school as an accounting major

Big Miss Steak

He… wasn’t the best at it

He didn’t necessarily hate it

But he wasn’t thrilled about it being his major

Lucky for him

He was required to take a fine arts course

He decided on photography

And boy oh boy

He fell in love with it

Taking pictures was a Big Yes from him

He was really good at coming up with poses for his models

And most times the people in his class would ask him to model for them

And that’s when he started getting into modeling

And he loved that even more than photography

So naturally

He googled what he should do to become a model

And he found out you don’t necessarily need a degree

But Lucifer would NOT let him drop out

So, he saw that a few majors would help

Luckily for him

Photography was on there

But there was another that caught his eye

Fashion Merchandising

And here we have it

The brother who everyone sees as a dumbass is a double major

Who would have thought?

Not his brothers

Now don’t get me wrong

He barely passes his general education classes

But his major classes?

Easy

He loves them

He has shown up to class many times hungover, though

That’s what happens when you’re in a frat

Yes

Our boy Mammon

Is in a frat

He’s in the frat that puts on the best parties

They don’t let him spend money on anything anymore

They learned that the hard way

He’s also in Student Government, courtesy of Lucifer

He’s the Director of Public Relations

He considered running for treasurer

But all of his brothers reminded him of all the things he’s spent money on

And bet money on

And lost money on

He decided against treasurer

When it comes to partying

Mans goes hard

Doesn’t give a fuck

Does it all

Except hard drugs

…

Only that one time

Thank God Lucifer was there

「 Leviathan 」

If you think he would major in anything other than video game design you’re wrong

He went in looking to be a general programmer

And then he saw the words “Video Game Design”

He changed major immediately

He’s perfectly happy with just Video Game Design

But he is getting a marine biology minor

He’s always been fascinated with the ocean

And the creatures in the ocean

So he decided a minor would be a neat idea

He could also totally use his knowledge to design a dope ass underwater themed game

Which high key may be his thesis project

He really doesn’t get out much

He stays home the majority of the time

Gaming

Watching Anime

Reading manga

Lucifer literally scolded him for always staying in his room

Never going out to do anything with anyone

Levi tried to tell him playing games was basically his homework

But Lucifer was having NONE OF IT

So, to shut him up

Levi looked at the clubs the school offered

He nearly screamed when he realized there was a Japanese Manga, Anime, and Gaming Club

He quickly became the president of that

He’s also a part of Student Government with the rest of his brothers

He’s the Media Representative

He runs all the social medias for the Student Government

And he’s damn good at it

He’s frequently on his phone during meetings

And he’s the only one who’s allowed to do that

And he may use it to his advantage

He needs to know what happens in the next episode of the anime he’s watching

He doesn’t have time to listen to Lucifer and Diavolo preach about things damnit!

He also doesn’t have time for

Shudder

Parties.

Just the thought of going to a frat party makes his skin crawl

What a normie thing to do

Sadly, for him

He’s frequently forced to attend them

Thanks Mammon

He just follows Mammon around like a lost puppy

He gets flustered any and every time anyone talks to him

One time, Mammon thought alcohol would make him feel more confident

…Mammon should not have provided Levi with alcohol

Too many things happened

Things the two never speak of to this day

N E V E R

He apologizes to Ruri-Chan every day for his mistakes on that night

「 Satan 」

VETERINARY MEDICINE

HE DOESN’T CARE HOW LONG IT TAKES

HE WILL TAKE CARE OF ANIMALS

Almost bit Lucifer when he reminded him, he’d have to put down animals too

Lucifer then proceeded to call him an animal

But seriously

Satan wants to be able to help animals in any way he can

He’s well aware he will have to put some animals down

But he knows he won’t have to do that unless it’s absolutely necessary

He’s also going to be a whole ass doctor

Fuck off, Lucifer Esquire

Here comes the DOCTOR of the family

Literally took up a job just to get away from Lucifer

He works as a librarian

He loves it

He’s constantly reading

And I mean  c o n s t a n t l y  r e a d i n g

He’s the nicest librarian ever

Just

Don’t talk too loudly

Or destroy a book

Or do anything stupid

Because he will go off

He doesn’t tolerate stupidity

Not in his safe space

He’s on track to get a certificate in writing

So please

Do not interfere with literature

He’s also on track to get a certificate in Women and Gender Studies

So do not interfere with women’s rights or equality in front of him

He will not be happy

And he’s horrifying when he’s angry

Same thing goes in Student Government

He’s the Parliamentarian

And he does the job well

You either follow the rules

Or you get a talking to from Satan

Nobody wants a talking to from Satan

The only person who isn’t necessarily afraid of him is Lucifer

But Lucifer never breaks the rules so Satan can’t pop off on him

Satan might watch him like a hawk just to see if he messes up eventually so he can yell

He never catches him doing anything wrong

He catches Mammon doing plenty wrong, though

Constantly on his case for staying out too late

Mammon always blames it on his frat

And Satan always rolls his eyes

Similar to Lucifer

The only “frat” he’s in is an honor society with a Greek name

He considered joining the “smart” frat

But he decided against it seeing as Mammon was in a frat

He didn’t want to be associated with him

Sadly

He can’t escape it

Every party he goes to

Mammon is right there

Every

Time

Satan doesn’t understand how he does it

To avoid the feeling of dread he just

He drinks as much as possible

He doesn’t party often

But when he does

He

parties

The amount of times he’s gone out with his brothers and then disappeared only to come home after some crazy shit happened to the rest of them?

So many times

He doesn’t have time for their foolishness

He parties to get away from them

You know sometimes he just needs a break from his family dynamic

Even though when he gets drunk, Lucifer usually gets a voicemail

And… it’s soft

Satan has no idea those voicemails exist

Lucifer keeps them for blackmail

He also just keeps them to remind himself that Satan has a heart and isn’t a fucking dick to him all the time… don’t let the insult fool you, he actually really cares for Satan and hearing him be nice is pleasant

「 Asmodeus 」

He is a fashion design major

He’s known what he’s wanted to do since he was a child.

He’s been making his own clothes for years

People always stare at him because wow he looks good

He also decided to minor in music

Specifically focusing on his voice

Boy can sing

And sing he does

Sometimes Belphegor tells him to shut up

To which Asmo responds with

“I can’t hear you over my Grammy Award worthy voice! Did you say something?”

Before Belphegor can respond

Asmo is singing again

It’s futile

He never stops

That helps him in his Acapella Group though

He loves singing with them

Invites his brothers to every performance

Actually, gets happy if they show up

He’s the treasurer of Student Government

He’s actually very good with his money

He basically runs his own mini fashion business after all

He not only creates clothes for himself

But other people too

And don’t even get me started on his make-up looks

He’s literally an icon

He walks into a room and people know exactly who he is

He also has a YouTube channel

Focusing on fashion and beauty

He’s decently popular

And he loves it

He’s the other one in a frat

His frat is the most popular on campus

Everyone knows it

Everyone knows the people in it

And he loves the attention

So many girls and guys on campus throw themselves at him

And he loves that too

He always treats whoever he decides to bring home with him like royalty

Even though he’s had several hook ups and one-night stands

People don’t mind

Because he’s

1)

AMAZING AT IT

and

2)

HOT AS FUCK

He knows it

And he is not afraid to show it

He parties every night

Like actually

If he isn’t partying, it’s concerning

He’s one that believes that college are the best years of your life

And he isn’t letting that slip away from him

No matter how much Lucifer yells at him to stop partying all the time

Of course, partying is also an excuse for him to ignore some other things

So, he does it a lot

When he’s with someone else is when he’s happiest

So, he always makes sure to be with another person

「 Beelzebub 」

Bet you think he’s gonna major in culinary science

WRONG

That’s his minor

His major

Is Family and Child Science

He wants to help people so bad

Especially children

He wants to do everything in his power to make sure that children live happy lives

So, his main goal in the end is to either be a school counselor or a crisis counsellor

He’s very serious about what he does

And he holds some past trauma

So, he wants to make sure people have someone to talk to when bad things happen

Of course, he also loves making food

He loves eating it more, though

But honestly

He’s a student athlete

Of course, he needs food

He’s always moving

He’s the captain of the American football team at their school

If he wasn’t going into child services

You’d best believe he was going into the NFL

Mans can PLAY football

It’s also really nice to have him in Student Government

Because the student body actually respects them because of it

He’s the secretary

It’s always nice when Lucifer asks Beel for the notes they took that meeting

He hands them over

Super detailed

Perfect, even

He always pays attention

He’s great at listening

And he knows how much it means to Lucifer

So, he never disappoints

He isn’t in any other clubs other than student government

But that’s because he’s on teams

Like I said, one hell of a football player

And if he’s not home making food or doing schoolwork

He’s at practice

Or just at the gym

He’s always bettering himself

And he’s certainly a campus heartthrob

It’s always fun going out with him

because he is the heaviest of all the heavy weights

His record for taking shots is twenty-one

That should have KILLED HIM

It didn’t kill him

BUT

That’s definitely his limit

That was an interesting night

Beel is just happy that his brothers happened to be there

He wasn’t too happy when he realized Mammon did something even more stupid than taking twenty-one shots

Lucifer made sure they were both okay though

Which Beel appreciated

He just… avoids vodka as much as possible now

Too many bad memories

At least from what he can remember

「 Belphegor 」

Like Beel

Belphie really cares about the mental state of people

Not children specifically

Just people in general

He’s just

Not cut out to be a counsellor

He doesn’t have the personality for that

He needs to do something that can actually take his sarcastic ass and allow him to use it for the better

SO

He does some research

And something catches his eye

Rehabilitation Coordinator

Specifically Rehab for drugs and alcohol

He’s no-nonsense enough to enforce the rules of the facility, but still be able to care about these people

And become one

He needs to go to nursing school

This is difficult for him

He really enjoys sleeping

And this whole getting up early for clinicals thing?

Not ideal

However

After talking to his advisor about it

And by talking

I mean just straight up telling him he’s nocturnal got severe insomnia and waking up early is a no go

He gets put on the night shift

And that does wonders of good for him

The brothers barely see him

He’s either in class, asleep, or at the hospital

The only brother he ever really makes time for is Beel

They’re twins

Of course, he’s going to make time for him

A lot of the time, Belphie will return home around the same time Beel wakes up to go on a morning run

So, they have breakfast together

Because of his chaotic schedule

The only club he’s in is Student Government

And he did his best to snag the easiest position

The Reporter position

He just

Submits stories to the papers in the area

That’s it

He loves it

It’s so easy

Lucifer has to remind him to do it sometimes, though

He doesn’t mean to forget

He’s just got a lot going on

He needs to memorize he human anatomy, Lucifer

Some things are more important

He rarely goes out

He isn’t fond of parties

Even though he’s a night owl and enjoys the occasional drink

There are too many people

The main reason he goes is to make sure Beel doesn’t get too wasted

Not after that one time

But he did party a little hard when he found out he passed a test that he needed to get higher than a C on to stay in his major

He celebrated

Sleeping was the last thing on his mind that night

He was so hungover in the morning