Pannacotta Fugo

A month after the wedding ceremony, you had a decent place to live - a three-story house with a good renovation. The idea of living there wouldn't have been so bad if you didn't have to share it with your so-called husband.

Despite your frequent arguments and incompatible personalities, you managed to maintain a neutral relationship most of the time. You never interfered in each other's personal lives, tried to avoid each other as much as possible, and it seemed like your life together wasn't so bad. Fugo wasn't a stranger to you. Your families had been trying to set you up since your early years, which annoyed you immensely. The two of you could both get along and argue and fight. Your relationship was far from that of a husband and wife.

Sometimes the situation was stressful for you. You were often surrounded by anxious thoughts, and to distract yourself, you sometimes had to drink, and this was one of those times. You returned home from the bar late and intoxicated, and as soon as you took off your shoes, you plopped down on the couch in the living room. Your head was spinning, and you could barely focus on anything. Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice.

• I'm surprised you made it home in that state..

he said, looking at you reproachfully as you struggled desperately not to pass out on the spot. He obviously looked mad as hell.

(please like the bot bc I spent my time)