#but then why bind it to money to begin with

[iydiamartinx]

ALL IT TAKES IS ONE BAD DAY

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 1.1k synopsis: After a spending a year in a loveless marriage, you find your husband with another woman. warning: cheating, bruce is an asshole

The manor had never been a home. Not truly.

Its towering halls echoed with silence, its antique chandeliers glinting like frozen stars, untouchable and cold. You’d tried, in the beginning, to warm it—fresh flowers in the vases, candles lit at dinner, even soft music playing in the background some evenings.

But Bruce never noticed.

He came and went like a ghost—impeccable in tailored suits and always busy. And when he did speak to you, it was clipped, distant. A nod. A thank you. A hum of acknowledgment as he passed you in the corridor, the same way one might regard an acquaintance and not someone they chose to bind themselves to.

You’d grown used to the solitude. Learned to fill it with books, walks through the garden, dinners eaten in silence. On rare occasions, Alfred would try to bridge the gap, lingering just a moment longer in the room, a small reassurance here and there trying to cover up for his master, but there was no mistaking the disappointment in his eyes every time he saw the way Bruce treated you.

You were a Wayne by name only.

And maybe that would’ve been enough. Maybe you would’ve endured it forever—the cold bed, the colder stares, the knowledge that this union was forged for reputation and power, not love.

But deep inside you felt that hollow aching loneliness, the insecurity of wondering why you weren’t enough. You always dreamed of a love that would consume you, of freedom and adventure. You never thought this might be your life, you played your part well but the posh dresses, the pearls, everything that came with being Bruce Wayne’s wife felt like a cage. 

You never wanted his money, in fact you never even took a penny from him, you were wealthy in your own name. You married him because it was arranged yet you had hoped the two of you could find some middle ground or at least be amicable yet he never even tried.

You he had secrets and you tried to respect it. But there was no mistaking the way he seemed to sneak out in the middle of the night, doing god knows what. How he always seemed too tired or too busy to even attend important functions and meeting, always leaving them to you.

It seemed you finally got your answer. It was late when you returned from the charity gala. You hadn’t expected him to come—he rarely did. But the photographers had still clamoured for pictures, still whispered about Bruce Wayne’s wife, wondering if the man even remembered he had one. 

You tried to ignore the humiliation but sometimes it became too much, like tonight, and you found yourself sneaking away early.

The silence greeted you first when you returned to the manor. Then the soft creak of the stairs under your heels.

The door to the master bedroom was ajar.

At first, it was the flicker of candlelight you noticed. Then the shadow on the wall—two forms, tangled together. And then the soft, breathy laugh. Familiar.

Selina Kyle.

Your throat closed. You stepped closer, silent as a ghost. Your eyes met the scene and for a second, you didn’t breathe. Her mouth was against his neck, one leg hooked over his hip, sheets disheveled. The way she touched him, kissed him, it was clear she knew his body intimately and that this wasn’t the first time.

His hands were on her. His eyes—those usually cold, unreadable eyes—closed with pleasure.

The sound you made must have been small, but it was enough. Bruce’s head snapped up. Selina glanced over her shoulder, entirely unfazed.

You stood in the doorway, lips parted, frozen. Your body refused to move. Your mind, however, was screaming.

A year.

A year of silence and patience and pretending that the chill in his eyes didn’t hurt you. That his absence at every dinner, every event, every attempt you made to be more than a burden, didn’t pierce straight through your ribs.

And this was what he gave you in return.

Bruce didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at you like you were the one who’d intruded. Selina at least had the decency to look like she felt at least a little guilty but you didn’t want nor need her pity

It was the silence that broke you more than the act.

Not even the decency to lie.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

Your gaze flicked from him to Selina then back to him. You tilted your head. “I hope she was worth it.”

Then you turned. Trying to keep the calm and controlled facade, even as the world crumbled around you.

You didn’t look back.

Not even when he called out your name. You’d done everything to keep your sham of a marriage together and you were done.

And for the first time in a year, you were the one who walked away.

You hadn’t even bothered to grab your stuff, you were still in your gala dress as you grabbed the keys to your car, getting ready to get as far away as you could from this place.

“Madame, I’m sure—“ Alfred tried to do as he always did and make it better but for once you were in no mood to listen.

“I don’t care.” You cut off not harshly but firmly. “He’d made it clear since the beginning that he didn’t want this marriage, no matter how hard I tried. I’m done, Alfred. I have more self respect than to stay and continue trying with a man who clearly doesn’t want me and doesn’t respect me. I deserve someone who does,” you finished, voice low but steady, the final word catching ever so slightly on your tongue.

Alfred stood there in the entryway, a halo of warm light behind him, his face drawn with quiet sorrow. He didn’t argue. He only bowed his head slightly in acceptance because what could he say? You were right. You deserved more.

“I’ll have someone collect your things,” Alfred said softly, after a long moment. His voice, always composed, was tinged with quiet regret. “Where should I have them sent?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t know—but because saying it aloud made it real.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” you murmured.

He gave a nod, the smallest motion. And though he was just the butler to some, to you, he had always been the one constant in that frozen palace of a home.

You offered him a faint, grateful smile.

“Thank you… for being the only one who ever treated me like I mattered.”

That got him. His throat bobbed slightly, and he looked away, just for a second—composing himself as always. But when he met your gaze again, there was nothing but pride and sorrow in his eyes.

“You always did,” he said. “He was simply too blind to see it.”

You nodded once, then turned on your heel. The dress rustled around your legs as you moved down the steps. You were still in heels. Still in diamonds. Still wearing the same red lipstick he hadn’t once complimented.

You slipped into the driver’s seat of the black car—the one you’d always parked at the edge of the Wayne fleet, never quite part of the collection.

The door shut with a soft click.

And for the first time in a year, you didn’t look up at the manor as you drove away. You didn’t wonder if he’d come after you.

Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

Even if he did, It no longer mattered.

The city blurred past your windows in streaks of gold and steel. Gotham’s skyline loomed like jagged teeth against the night, familiar and yet cold—just like everything else lately. The gala dress clung uncomfortably to your skin now, a mocking reminder of the life you’d just walked away from.

You tightened your grip on the wheel, trying to breathe through the storm of emotions—anger, betrayal, grief—all coiled in your chest like a venomous thing. But at least you were free now.

Free from him. Free from the expectations that came to being married to him. 

The light ahead flickered from yellow to red. You slowed, fingers tapping anxiously against the wheel, when—

BANG.

The car jolted with a deafening metallic crash. Your head snapped forward as the vehicle was rammed from behind. Airbags didn’t deploy. Your foot slammed on the brakes, tires skidding—but it was too late. A second hit came, this time from the side, and the world tilted as your car spun across the wet street and slammed into a lamppost.

Smoke hissed from the engine. Your ears rang.

You tried to move—unbuckle your seatbelt, reach for your phone—but the driver’s side door was ripped clean off.

A hand reached in—gloved, pale, too fast.

Before you could scream, a needle jabbed into your neck. Cold fire rushed through your veins, and the world slipped sideways.

Voices echoed. Laughter.

A man’s voice, high-pitched and giddy, like a child who’d just unwrapped a present he wasn’t supposed to have.

“Well, well, Mrs. Wayne. What a delicious little surprise.”

You tried to focus through the haze, your limbs too heavy to fight. The world went dark and spinning, but not before you saw a flash of white skin, a grin painted in what looked like blood, and eyes that burned with manic delight.

The Joker.

[clairewritesfanfics]

! I read your alphabet fluff and it was amazing ! I’m wondering if maybe you could do one for no glasses Mark or viltrumite if you have time I don't know why but I feel like these two want kids.

Author’s note: The alphabet here is an amalgamation of fluff templates from the following writers: @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @snk-warrior, @queervibesmydude and @imagineimagineimagine, and my own personal additions.

Adoration: What does he can’t help but gush about you? 

Everything.

Baby: Does he want a family? 

He doesn’t want a family, he wants something that can bind you to his side. Whether you adopt, have a surrogate or get impregnated, that thing will etch his memory deeper into your heart. He doesn’t want to share your affections though. In his eyes, the only thing better than a kid is a dead kid. 

Comfort: How does he help you when you’re down or stressed?

Cuddles and kisses! He is the most handsy variant. He will shower your face with kisses, nudge you with his head, bury his face in your neck and stick his arms to you.

Dates: What are his ideal dates?

He likes being outside and active: picnics in the park where he can make out with you on a blanket, beach days where he can see you in a swimsuit and make out with you in the water, hiking in nature where he pretends to chase you and then make out with you against a tree, etc.

Everything: You are his __________.

You are his sun, his gravity. 

Fight: How often do you argue? How does he handle the fight itself and its aftermath?

Fights with him feel more like foreplay than arguments. Any real disagreements are too rare to even remember.

Gifts: Does he spoil you?

Hell yeah. Whatever money he has, he uses on you and any spare change is for making himself more attractive to you.

Honesty: Does he keep a lot of secrets from you? Are they white lies or hide world-shattering truths?

He can’t lie to you, but that doesn't mean he can’t omit parts of the truth.

Injury: What’s his reaction when he finds you physically hurt?

That perpetual smile vanishes, replaced with a haunting stare. He forgets about checking up on you and loses himself in his revenge. 

Jealousy: Is he a green-eyed monster?

Yup. Actually, physically, loudly groans and whines when you pay attention to someone else for too long. He starts grabbing you all over until you yell at him to stop. Doesn’t matter if you’re mad as long as you’re focused on him.

Kiss: Describe the way he kisses you.

He kisses you eagerly, giving everything and touching you everywhere, as though hoping he’d become a part of you.

Longing: Who fell first? How did you two get together?

He did. He seems derpy, but Mark’s manipulative; he knows that rushing into things will only scare away a romantic partner. So he teases you and hits on you, but backs off when he thinks you’re beginning to feel uncomfortable. He’s also willing to get rid of any competition (in secret, naturally).

Marriage: Does he want to be your husband?

Yes, yes, yes! He has the perfect ring, too. It’s exactly your style. 

Nightmare: What is his greatest fear?

Your indifference. He prefers your affection, but he will take even your hatred as long as your eyes are on him.

Orange: What color reminds him of you?

Gold. Like the radiant sun that he evolves around. 

PDA: Yes or no? If yes, to what degree?

Do you think dogs care about who is looking when they start jumping on their owners? He’ll stop if you tell him but if you’re fine with having an audience then so is he.

Quaint: What is his favourite non-modern thing?

Love letters. We’re talking scented paper in fancy envelopes. You’re flattered and supportive, however…Mark’s good in many things, but writing poems is not one of them. He’s sincere though so you can’t ever laugh at or criticize his work.

Rhythm: What’s his favorite song or genre of music?

He likes what you like. No, really. His interests before are meaningless to him now. He has restructured his life to fit perfectly with yours, and that includes music taste. 

Spa: What helps him relax?

Something as small as your shoulders touching while you two lie on bed doing your own things (well, you’re doing something; he’s admiring the view) calms him down.

Tea: What do you two often converse about? 

He will like what you like, watch what you watch and read what you read, everything to be your soulmate and be able to understand everything you say. However, he gets lost in your voice. Sometimes–most of the time–he doesn’t even talk. He would rather listen to you. You could be talking about a murder that happened next door and he, in a daze, will smile and say, “That’s nice.”

Understanding: How well does he know you?

He knows your habits and routine, though he’s still prone to being insensitive to any changes to such behaviors.

Value: How important is the relationship to him?

You are literally the only reason he hasn’t become a full-blown supervillain.

Wild Card: Random fluff headcanon

He sticks post-it notes everywhere in the house. Jokes (what’s a pirate’s favorite amino acid? Aaaaaaarrrrginine), reminders (drink your water >:( on the pitcher), corny pick-up lines (Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?) or something sweet and simple like I love you, because he feels like he can never say it enough.

XOXO: How affectionate is he?

He is a dog in a Viltrumite body. Hands down, the most physically and verbally affectionate Mark. He likes leaning against you, holding your hands, kissing you and hugging you.

Yearning: How does he cope when you two are apart?

The longest minute is the last sixty seconds when he’s waiting for you. There is no coping.

Zebra: If he wanted a pet, what would he get?

Does he want pets? NO. It’s bad enough that he has to share you with other people. There is no way in Hell he’s splitting your affection with an even lower life form. You want a dog? He’ll bark and kneel and fetch, whatever you want. Here’s his neck, he even bought a fancy pink collar. Please put it on him. 

Disclaimer: The images above are not mine but are screenshots from the Invincible TV series.

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[lowkeychenle]

And Then It Was [ZCL] (M)

Description: After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices. Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst (arranged marriage!au, rich families using their children as business mergers yk) Content Warnings: Rich, generational family trauma, family secrets, reader in her men suck era, explicit, protected sex, mentions of pregnancy (no actual pregnancy in the fic), reader feels obligated to have children, explicit, unprotected sex, use of the pet names 'baby' and 'darling', dirty talk, oral (f receiving) Word Count: 28.2k Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (features Jeno, Jisung, Jaemin, and Mark, but mostly Jeno and Jisung! (sorry idk where Renjun and Haechan are in this fic?????)) A/N: Y'all tumblr really f'in hates me because it was so difficult to format this fic? like it did not want to let me put the whole thing on here. So if the last section is oddly formatted, that's why and I'msosorry :'( (p.s. thank you so much for 700 followers!!!)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :) Taglist: @midmourn @nominsgirl @winwinscvnt @bugcattie @sleepyvic @chenlesfeetpic @tolerable-tears @yutaswh0re @bitchzitschimi @velvtcherie @leefullsun @pnkified @valerieluvsyu @defzcl

Chenle’s hand grips yours loosely, resting between the two of you right on the crack between the couch cushions. All of this is a formality, down to the smile plastered on your face. It started out simple, like something out of a movie, honestly, but even movies have to roll the end credits at some point.

“So, tell us the story of how you met,” the interviewer begins, crossing her legs as she looks at you in complete interest.

“We’ve known each other for ages,” Chenle says.

Lie. You’ve known of each other for ages. You’re only here with an oversized ring on your finger to complete your family’s merger with Chenle’s. What big news that was, two heirs of two of the biggest companies around the world falling in love. If only that were true in the slightest.

“Wow, way to make it sound romantic.” You laugh, reaching across to push his arm—gently, of course. “He makes it so lackluster. But to be completely transparent, it wasn’t…anything crazy. We did meet years ago, and we’ve been friends since then. Gosh, probably since we were sixteen?”

“Fifteen,” Chenle corrects you and sends an award winning smile your way. You’d be inclined to believe him if everything wasn’t scripted.

“He always has been a little more detail-oriented than me.”

The interview drags. You and Chenle were officially married just over a month ago, and while you know it’s your owed duty to your family, you wish optics weren’t so important. After all, legally binding yourself to secure a company was one thing, but physically binding yourself to a man you barely know? You wouldn’t dream of it. Even holding his hand feels odd, not to mention his palms are sweaty.

Your honeymoon had ended shortly before the interview. You’d been gone for four weeks, and it was the last bit of privacy you’d have when it comes to your ‘relationship’ with Chenle. You got to know him enough to where you’d be comfortable sharing an oversized house with him, but there were still a lot of mysteries between you two—mysteries you were sure would never get solved. There are a lot of good things about Chenle. He’s smarter than most people you’ve met, he knows how to make jokes and take them, he’s nice to look at, to hold a conversation with, but you don’t love him. You’d been of the mind that you wanted to marry for love since you were young, but some things are overshadowed by your duties. By money.

“There aren’t many people in this world that don’t just…immediately bow down to powerful men. It was…interesting to say the least, because throughout my entire life I’d always just been given respect. From the moment I met (Y/N), I knew I’d have to work for it. For her respect, I mean. She’s just as confident and much more intelligent than any other man I’ve ever worked with.” Chenle squeezes your hand.

That wasn’t in the script. It’s almost enough to have you break character and forget your next line. “Is that so?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles.

“Tried and true,” he replies with ease. “You really are extraordinary, you know.”

Can’t script a blush rising to your cheeks. It’s something about the way he makes direct eye contact with you that has your face burning.

Grinning, he turns back to the interviewer. “I have a lot of things to be grateful for in life. Truly, I do. I’m very fortunate for all of the good my family has done for me and for having things set up for me from the start. One thing I never could’ve imagined was that it could get better. Meeting her changed my life, and if I had to, I’d give everything else to keep her next to me.”

That time, your smile does fall, but you quickly catch yourself. Your heart picks up its pace in your chest, but you know it’s all part of the script. It has to be. He’d never give up his money, his family, his lifestyle for something as simple as you. You desperately want to pull your hand away, but you’ll wait until the cameras stop rolling.

As soon as you and Chenle are behind the tinted windows of his car, you drop his hand and scoot all the way over to have some semblance of peace. None of this truly makes sense to you. You’re much too young to be worried about your marriage to another person equally as young as you, yet you can’t help but mull over each word that left his mouth today.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Of course.” You pull your phone out of your purse and scroll through your social media with a sigh.

The driver pulls away from the spot, and after a few minutes, you look over to find Chenle watching you.

“What?”

“Is that it?” He clasps his hands together in his lap.

You scoff. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are we to keep acting while we’re alone, too? It’s exhausting.”

“You don’t even want to…try to keep getting to know each other? You’re just done?” He pauses, tongue wetting his lips. “We’re here for the long haul, (Y/N). We signed a legally binding contract. Divorce isn’t an option ever. We may as well try and—”

“All due respect, Chenle, I’d rather not know you. What happens if I do, and then I hate everything about you? Ignorance is bliss. Why risk hating you when I can just tolerate you instead?”

“Is it the hate you don’t want to risk?” His question catches you off guard, the confidence laced in his tone sending sparks of irritation through you.

“Are you insinuating that you think I could fall in love with you?”

“There’s no insinuation. I’ll tell you with full certainty that you would.” Chenle’s dark eyes narrow, and he shifts in his seat. “You fear failure. But a marriage failure would be easier if you’re not in love, right? No feelings to cloud your logical judgment.”

“For such a smart man, that was an incredibly stupid statement.” You scoff, setting your phone in your lap. “This is a job, not a marriage.”

“Not according to our sealed certificate.”

“Burn it for all I care. I’m not here for you. I’m here for my family, so I could’ve been married off to anyone. Don’t think that means I’ll allow you to control me. What’s mine is still mine. If I choose to see someone outside the marriage, that’s my own choice.”

“Ah.” He inhales slowly. “You’re already in love.”

“Wrong again.”

“Then why is that the first thing you say?”

“Because I have a duty to you. An obligation. But that does not mean you’re obligated to my heart.” You look straight forward, refusing to acknowledge the heat of his stare boring into your side.

“At least make sure you’re using protection.” He clicks his tongue.

“That was also in the contract. Didn’t you read it?” You tap your foot. “‘Extramarital relations require usage of effective birth control methods, and I may not bear another man’s child.’”

“I’m sorry, what?” He gapes at you. “Are you serious right now?”

When you laugh, his eyebrows furrow deeply.

“What’s funny?”

“No, no, I just forgot. You’re the man. You’re expected to stray from the marriage because you obviously don’t have everything life can offer. It’s okay for you to get someone else pregnant because you don’t have to physically have the child. Ridiculous.”

“And you think that’s my intention? Seriously?”

“It’s an expectation in every arranged marriage, I assume.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t care what you do, Chenle. Just act like you respect me at least.”

“Okay, now hold on.” He scratches his forehead, his thought process basically written out across his face. “You were the one that mentioned extramarital relationships. I was never going to suggest it because I’d never do something like that. I don’t care what our…relationship is like, it’s still a marriage. You’re my wife, whether we like it or not, and I’m not going to do anything that would undermine you or the legacy you’ve already created. Regardless of what you believe, I do respect you. Honestly.”

“I…” you trail off, swallowing roughly. “I’d prefer silence for the rest of the drive.”

Chenle runs his tongue over his teeth, but he nods.

“Do we have to share a room?” you ask as you take your earrings out. Placing them on the vanity in front of you, you stare at Chenle through the mirror, watching as he removes his suit jacket and tie.

“We don’t have to do anything.” Chenle shakes his head and untucks his shirt from his pants. “If that’s what you want, I’ll stay in another room.”

“What?” You frown. “This is your house. You should keep the master bedroom.”

“Stop thinking like that,” he says, working on his buttons. “It’s yours now, too.”

He stops halfway down, grabbing his shirt and sweatpants to change into.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” His voice seems different, almost cold. Distant.

“Chenle,” you call out, turning in your chair to face him directly.

He sighs, stops, and looks back at you. “Yeah?”

“Before you go, can we…get something out of the way?”

“More things.” He presses his lips together in a thin line, but eventually nods and takes a few steps closer. “By all means.”

This time, it’s your palms that are sweating. You grip the armrest and flounder for the words you want to say. It’s rare for you to get flustered or shy with anyone, so acting this way in front of him has heat rising to your cheeks.

“We’re expected to have children,” you finally spit out. “Heirs. We carry two legacies on our backs.”

He shifts on his feet, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he glances away from you. “This is what you want to get out of the way?”

“I…I just think it’s a good idea for us to put our…expectations out there early.”

“About sex or babies?”

“The only reason we’d ever…is to have babies.” You try to maintain your strong facade, but the conversation makes you more nervous than you’d care to admit.

“Right, because thinking that you’re sleeping with me out of obligation is incredibly sexy.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “We don’t even have to have sex to get you pregnant, you know. There are other options. Do you even actually want children? Or is that purely out of obligation as well?”

“Everything I do is out of obligation.”

“Not anymore.” He walks closer, resting his hand on the edge of the vanity. “You’re my wife now. You do what you want, and you do it for you. No one else. Understood?”

You stand up, obliterating the minuscule distance between the two of you. Your chest almost brushes his, and you’re nearly distracted by his half-unbuttoned shirt. Tilting your head, you scan over his face.

“You’re saying there’s not anything you want from me?”

“Wanting and demanding are two very different things.” He doesn’t back down, his impenetrable gaze locked on yours.

“And what is it that you want?”

“For someone who doesn’t care, you sure are inquisitive,” Chenle remarks.

“Don’t let my level of interest stop you.”

His eyes narrow. “How long have we known each other?”

“I can tell you our first real conversation was just over six months ago. We were informed of this…situation.” You sigh. “Why?”

“I was relieved to find out it was you.” He gulps. “To know that you are someone I’m…attracted to. That we could maybe one day have something real in the wake of this…joke of an arrangement.”

“Relieved?”

“Yes.” He nods without hesitation. “And that is what I want. A real life, real love, real family. And while everything else may not be ideal, I’d never force you to give me any of those things. As I’ve said, you’re free to make your own choices. Whether they include me or not.”

His voice is soft, barely carrying over to you from his spot mere inches away. Your heart pounds in your chest from his proximity, his words, him. You don’t want to risk anything, and the consequences far outweigh the rewards of a relationship like this.

“Good.” You nod. “I’ll remember that.”

“I expect nothing less.” He takes a step back, unintentionally shattering the tension between the two of you. “Have a good night, (Y/N).”

But for some reason, once he closes the door behind him and leaves you alone in this giant, extravagant bedroom, you truly wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

“I mean, is that a bad thing?” Jisung’s voice carries through the phone, shuffling around with documents in the background.

Your cousin always did have trouble seeing things from your side. You sigh. “It is a bad thing. Why can’t he just be a normal man? I’m not going to beg anyone to impregnate me, if that’s what he’s waiting for—”

“(Y/N),” he says, tone laced with disbelief. “After that whole conversation, that’s what you got out of that? That he wants you to beg him?”

“What else am I supposed to get?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you study yourself in the mirror. Despite the stress as of late, you still seem miraculously put together.

“That he actually cares about you. And wants something real.”

“Then his family picked his wife incorrectly,” you insist. “I’m here because I was told to be. And why risk a lifetime of unhappiness and hate when we could just…tolerate each other?”

“Not everything has to be—”

“You were supposed to be on my side for this.” Your chest deflates, and you put him on speaker to apply your lipstick and put your earrings in.

“I’m always on your side, even if you think I’m not. I’ve met Chenle, too. You could’ve been much worse off for a company merger.”

“Right, so I should be grateful?” You snort. “Grateful that my husband doesn’t want to have—”

“Insufferable,” your cousin cuts you off. “You’re insufferable. The whole world is not out to get you. In the position you’re in, you need every single ally you can get. Chenle especially. He’s one of the most powerful men in the country. Imagine what that could do for you.”

“Yes, because powerful men are so enticing for me.” You roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to love him. Nobody expects that of you, but you can at least be friends with him.” Jisung clicks his tongue. “Give him a shot, okay? He’s not an asshole, and from what you’ve told me, he seems to be trying with you.”

You tap your fingers on the vanity. “I have a business meeting with him and his board. Guess I’ll see you in a few.”

“That you will. Talk to you soon.”

As the line cuts, you head out of Chenle’s—your—room, and head down the hall and out the door. Today is a new day, and the first way to present your dominance to your husband is to talk business. You’ve always been good at keeping your composure. While the buildings for your family’s company and Chenle’s were on opposite sides of town, the merger gave you unlimited access to both. Chenle was his own respective CEO, while your father still held the technical title at yours.

COO had been sitting in your pocket for years, and your father told you the only way he’d relinquish his CEO title onto you is if you married. And produced an heir without any public miscommunication. Essentially, your heir would, under no uncertain circumstances, be conceived and birthed in a conventional way.

You’re the last one to arrive in the conference room. The walls are mostly windows, overlooking the bustling city below you. You inhale deeply at the sight, and Chenle looks up at you, standing as soon as he finds you in the room. The rest of the board follows suit, and you almost scowl at the realization that the only open seat is right next to your husband. You don’t recognize any of them since this is solely for Chenle, but he insisted you were to be included on all business discussions from the moment you were married.

You stand next to Chenle, staring down at the five men around you. “Sit. Standing on my behalf is a waste of time.”

All of them listen to you, Chenle included, leaving you the lone pillar in a room full of money.

“Thank you for waiting for me.”

You don’t ever apologize for being late. Some things are out of your control. Sitting, you move your chair closer to the table. Chenle leans in, close enough for his lips to brush your ear. “I told you to just drive with me.”

You turn to him, unintentionally scanning over his face while he’s so close, and give him a small, fake smile. “And I told you I travel alone.”

It’s the first time you see annoyance pull at his brows. The only thing it does for you is make you give yourself a mental tally mark. Winning is your strong suit.

“Late on the first day isn’t a good look,” the man in the back on the right says. “It’s almost as if it’s not important to you.”

“First day?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t been involved from the moment I signed a wedding certificate.”

“That’s hardly an excuse—”

“Jaemin,” Chenle interrupts him. “It won’t happen again. Leave it alone.”

Anger bubbles in your stomach as you watch the man at the end—Jaemin—immediately back down. Your words weren’t enough, but the second Chenle opens his mouth, the argument’s over? With the group of men, you talk financials from last quarter. You follow along easily thanks to the binder of data Chenle provided you with. Stopping on the fourth page, you frown.

Leaning over to Chenle, you nudge his shoulder. When you point at the page, his eyes follow. You turn your head to whisper in his ear, “This charge isn’t itemized. Little amounts may be fine, but a $143,000 charge with no itemization from one of your departments can’t be normal.”

“You’ve got sharp eyes,” he mutters, almost appreciatively.

“Obligations make you that way,” you return, brushing your hair back as you lean against your chair. Chenle’s button-up sleeves are rolled to his elbows, the tip of his pen tapping on the table as he listens to Jisung talk.

Chenle’s smart not to bring anything up just yet, as he’s likely to do more research before asking his team what is going on with something like that. You cross your legs and listen intently, but most of it is beyond your scope in his company, anyway.

“You’ll also have to decide on new positions as well.” Another man speaks up from beside your cousin.

“And what positions are those, Mark?” Chenle asks.

“COO and CFO nominations for the board to vote.”

“There isn’t any need for nominations for COO.” Chenle frowns.

“Why’s that?” One of the men, Jeno, follows up.

“Isn’t it obvious? The only person qualified for such a role is my wife.” Chenle crosses his arms over his chest, but this time, you can’t stop your outward reaction. Your jaw drops as all eyes fall on you, and you give him an incredulous look.

“Are you serious?”

“Why is this a surprise?” he inquires, gaze meeting yours.

It’s a surprise because nowhere in your signed contract did it say you were entitled to a position of power at his company.

“(Y/N) is an excellent candidate. She’s done great things at my uncle’s company,” Jisung butts in, nodding at you. “If it were up to a vote, she’d have mine.”

“We’ll reconvene for the vote. I have several candidates for CFO listed in the binders you received today, so you may vote on those as well.” Chenle pauses. 

You don’t realize your leg bouncing up and down until his palm presses against your knee. The movement is undetectable to everyone else, but it makes every ounce of air dissipate from your lungs. You calm down in an instant, no matter how much you hate to say it, and you clench your fists together in your lap.

“For now, my wife and I are going home,” he continues. “Have a good and productive day today.”

Everyone stands as he does, and you stare at him briefly when he extends his arm out to you. In that split second, you make eye contact with Jisung, who nods in encouragement. You let out a nearly invisible sigh, but you wrap your fingers around the crook of his elbow and allow him to lead you from the room. Once you’re far enough away from everyone, he still doesn’t let you go, a somewhat proud half-smile on his face. “After you pointed out that discrepancy, I almost switched gears and made you CFO instead.”

“You’ll learn quite fast that numbers aren’t really my strong suit.” You don’t even attempt to remove your grip on him. “My attention to detail makes up for the…lack of numerical intelligence.”

“I hope I didn’t take you too off-guard.” He opens the door to the building, disconnecting your arms to place his hand on the small of your back to guide you.

“Please.” You chuckle and shake your head. “You? Take me off-guard?”

“Competitive, too, huh?” He raises an eyebrow at you as he glances around at the different people with cameras surrounding you. Whether to keep you away from them or to keep up appearances, his hand slides from your back to your hip, gently pulling you closer to his side.

“Let’s just say I stopped being invited to family game night,” you admit.

Once the two of you make it to the car, you barely realize you’re disobeying your own rule of traveling alone. He grasps your hand to help you into the backseat, ignoring the flashing lights behind him as he watches you slide over.

He gets in after you, closing the door with a huff. “That’ll be a headline tomorrow.”

“You helping me into the car?”

“You smiled at me.”

“We’re married.”

“Nobody believes it.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

After a moment of your silence, he reaches over to grab your hand. You surprise even yourself when you allow him.

“I’m sorry. It’s not your problem. And it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks.”

“Don’t apologize.” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter, Chenle. We’ll get our…obligations out of the way, and then you can find the love you claim you want.”

His jaw tightens as he looks forward, his grip on you loosening. “Right.”

“Why?” you ask. “Why is that what you want? With me, or with anyone.”

“Love is good for you.” He shrugs. “To have someone who actually cares for you more than themselves just because they want to. Ever since I was young, I wanted to marry for love, but I’d always understood it wasn’t in the cards for me. But I figured I’d at least be able to try. With whoever it was, at least I’d be able to try to be a proper husband.”

There’s much more complexity behind Chenle than what you initially gave him credit for. You figured he’d be the typical CEO, a man high on power who will do everything and anything to not only keep it, but to grow his influence. The version of him you see now doesn’t support that original thought, but you have a hard time believing it.

“Life is already dull and loveless as it is. Rich families don’t exactly enjoy time with their relatives. I figured you, of all people, would understand where I’m coming from in that aspect.” He fidgets with his wedding band. “I don’t want to bring children into a world where they won’t be loved.”

“You think I wouldn’t love my own children?” you ask.

“That’s not what I said.” He glances at you. “Children deserve a complete family. One with parents who not only love them, but each other. I didn’t have that growing up, and I refuse to put anyone else through it.”

“I see.” You understand his point all too well, but you don’t see the big deal. Even if you two were in love and had children, wouldn’t you still have nannies and cooks and all of the things that you had as a child?

“Again, I’m not forcing you into anything. So, you don’t have to try with me if you don’t want to. But I’m not searching for it somewhere else. Since we…are obligated to have children, I wouldn’t put them through a situation where they view their father as a cheater. When I signed that contract and the marriage certificate, I signed my life away to you. Sure, it wasn’t in a traditional way or necessarily…by choice, but we’re here.”

“Wow, you sure know how to woo a woman.”

“You’ve made your stance clear. All I ask is that whoever you…” he trails off and scoffs. “Whoever you decide to be with, you keep them away from any future children. And we’ll never force them into a marriage like this.”

“You want our children to marry for love?”

“Of course, I do.” He nods.

“Chenle, I…”

This time, you reach over to him to stop his excessive movement. The second your fingers wrap around his wrist, he stops.

“I think the same way you do. Hopefully, we respect each other enough not to be caught. Publicly or by children.”

“So, you really…There’s no chance? Of anything real between us?”

Your heart comes to a dead-stop in your chest, and the word ‘no’ hangs on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to actually say it. It’s one simple syllable, but it’s so heavy in your mouth, you fear opening it will wreak havoc.

“I…I don’t know,” you reply, gulping.

He turns his hand so your palms are touching, and then he squeezes you gently. “All I ask is that you keep an open mind. It’s okay to let yourself have things you want, too. Not everything has to be an obligation.”

Before you can speak, the driver is opening the door for you and Chenle to get out. The two of you make your way into the house, but you’re honestly not sure where to go from here. You head upstairs toward the master bedroom to take off your dress.

“(Y/N),” Chenle calls, stopping you in your tracks. He continues, “I have to get clothes to change into. They’re still all in the master, but I’ll have the staff move them by the end of the week.”

You wet your lips. Standing on the third stair makes you taller than him, and he looks up at you with only kindness behind his brown eyes. You want to hate him. Or to only tolerate him. But through the moments of kindness, you know he’s the type of man you could be friends with. You could—

You stop that thought before it completes. “It’s your house. Do whatever you need to.”

He joins you on the third step and leans closer to you. “Wrong.”

“Wrong?” You tilt your head.

“Remember that everything I have is yours, too. This house belongs to you just as much as it belongs to me. As much as you hate to think so, I know you, (Y/N). The ball is in your court. You make the decisions around here, whether it’s what color the walls are or twenty kids running around the hallways. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen.”

You gape at him, face red as he leans away from you and continues up the stairs without looking back at you. Once he’s far enough away, you clear your throat and pat your cheeks. Regaining your composure, you follow him up and find him working on the buttons of his shirt, his tie discarded on the bed.

“Does this bother you?” he asks. “I can go.”

“What makes you think it bothers me?”

“You’re staring.”

You head over to the closet instead of responding to him, more than ready to put pants on instead of the dress that’s much too tight for comfort. Once you’ve picked out your new clothes, you stay where you’re at and reach behind you for the zipper. After a few moments of struggling with it, you finally give up and decide to use your resources.

“Chenle?” you call out.

When he appears in the doorway, his shirt is absent, and you were pretty sure he’d been wearing a belt before. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans against the frame, awaiting you to tell him what you need. You don’t have to actually speak. Instead, you turn your back to him and pull your hair over your shoulder. He hums behind you, keeping a respectable amount of distance before he grips the zipper.

“What did you do before me?” he asks, hesitant to pull it down.

“Staff.” You shrug. “But I mostly wore things I knew I’d be able to—”

The familiar sound and the rush of cool air against your heated skin as he reveals more of you has your breath catching in your throat. You cut yourself off, immediately reaching up to hold the dress to your chest.

“I’m a very accommodating man, (Y/N).” His voice sinks into every inch of you. “If you need something, tell me. I’m your husband. It’s quite literally my job to ensure you’re happy, darling.”

The heat radiating from his bare skin so close to yours has every thought in your brain flying away. Logically, there’d be nothing wrong with giving in to your temptation. It’d been a long time since anyone had touched you, and the man behind you is your husband. Physical attraction had nothing to do with emotions or feelings, so it was okay. One thing you’d never be able to deny is how he’s one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. Your parents could’ve chosen much, much worse for you.

His voice centimeters from your ear startles you out of your trance. He says, “I wonder what you’re thinking about. You seem a bit distracted.”

“Wouldn’t you love to know.”

“Truly.”

“I need to change.”

“Do you?” He trails a finger up your spine. “You’re so soft. What an odd comparison to that steel wall you’re forcing yourself to keep up.”

“I think you’re forgetting your own boundaries.” You clench your fist into the fabric of your dress. “This wouldn’t be real.”

“What even is this?” His breath fans across your neck, and you’re sure you feel the sublest brush of his lips on your skin. “Tell me where you think this is going. After all, I’m helping you with your dress like a good husband.”

“My dress was dealt with minutes ago.”

“Darling.” He tsks. “If your dress was dealt with already, it would be long, long gone.”

Even like this, you refuse to let him win. If this were to be the extent of your relationship with Chenle, you’d be fine with that. You crave satisfaction, and you also know this is a means to an end. This may be the key to giving your family those fucking heirs they want so badly. In a bold move, you release your grip on the fabric and allow it to crumple at your feet.

“What?” You tilt your head, grinning when his breathing halts. “Are you the only one who can deliver?”

He places his hand on your hip. “Can I touch you here?”

“Mhm,” you inhale sharply when he squeezes, trying your best not to roll back against him.

“Here?” he whispers, splaying his fingers out along your stomach.

“What’s your goal?” you ask, looking back at him over your shoulder. “You seem like you want something from me.”

His face is much too close to yours, but for some reason, it does little to bother you. When his lips part, you don’t mean to squirm in his touch. His eyes sweep over your expression, his touch edging just a little further downward until he can play with the lace hem of your panties.

“I’ve told you what I want already.” His gaze locks on your mouth. “Everything. I want it all.”

You gulp, unable to speak for fear of making a fool of yourself.

“What about me makes this hard for you?” he asks.

Despite the softness of his voice, your proximity to him means you see the hint of hurt swimming around in his dark irises. The heat of his bare skin on yours has everything inside you awakening, but you can’t give him what he wants.

“The choice is yours.” He takes a deep breath. “Going forward, the choice is always yours to make. I’m yours in any way you want me.”

The atmosphere around you is so warm, charged, you can’t help the way you struggle to breathe. You lean closer to him, and when your lips brush his, his grip around you tightens. Before he’s able to initiate a real kiss, a knock sounds on the bedroom door.

“Mr. Zhong, you have a visitor.”

“God damn it,” he curses under his breath, annoyance replacing whatever vulnerability you’d just seen. Stepping away from you, he grabs a shirt for you and hands it to you.

You accept it quickly, embarrassment flooding through your system as reality sets in and you realize what you’d done. He stops in the doorway, stealing one more glance at you before he runs his fingers through his hair and walks out.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, patting your cheeks.

Your skin where he touched you suddenly feels much too cold, and you give yourself a few moments to calm down as you search for a pair of pants to put on. You pick your dress up off the floor and put it with your dirty laundry. You tie your hair up to get yourself to cool down, and then you follow Chenle out to see who saved you from making a decision you wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“You came all the way here to deliver a report?” Chenle’s voice cuts through the air before you’re able to see him, and you hear the agitation flooding through it.

You round the corner and stop at the top of the stairs, finding Chenle in the foyer with one of the men from the meeting earlier standing right inside the doorway with a binder. He’d slipped his shirt back on, retucked it, and even rolled his sleeves up. His hands are deep in his pockets.

“It couldn’t wait,” the man says.

“There are plenty of things that can’t wait in this world, and they wait anyway, Jeno.” Chenle shifts on his feet. “But you’re here, so give it to me.”

Jeno hands Chenle the binder, and he opens it. At the realization of what it is, the latter’s eyes close.

“You’re telling me that this has been going on for years?”

“Before you were even CEO, yes.” Jeno nods.

“My father knows about this?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What is your father supposed to know about?” you ask, finally making your presence known as you make your way down the stairs.

Chenle turns to you, his jaw clenching as his gaze travels on its own accord. “The amount you pointed out earlier. It’s not just one payment. There’s…an entire binder full of payments to someone that aren’t accounted for. That’s $143,000 a quarter, for longer than I’ve even been able to—”

“Should she really be involved in this?” Jeno grabs Chenle’s arm.

“She’s the COO of the company.” Chenle frowns at the other man. “And she’s my wife. If this is going on, it affects her, too.”

The other man releases him, and you join Chenle at his side. At this point, even pressing your arm against his is far too much contact for you, yet you crave it all the same.

“It’s new for them,” you remind your husband. “They’re not used to me yet. They’ll learn in due time.”

“Right.”

You hold your hand out for the reports, and he gives it to you. You flip through, noting the dates corresponding with the payments.

“I wouldn’t bring it up to your father,” you mention.

“What?” Chenle recoils. “Why not?”

“These charges have been happening for years,” you point out. “There’s a chance he might know about them. That he could be the one—”

“That’s impossible,” Chenle interrupts you, his posture immediately straightening out as he stands rigid.

“It’s not.” You keep your voice soft in an attempt to neutralize the situation, and you reach for his wrist. “All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t rule anyone out. We need to keep this within a circle while we do research. No one else can know that this has even been caught.”

As soon as your fingers wrap around him, the tension in his body melts away. He lets out a sigh, wets his lips, and nods. “You’re right. We’ll look into it.” He turns to Jeno. “No one can know about this. This stays between the three of us.”

“Of course,” Jeno confirms. “I’ll leave you with that information now. Have a good night, you two.”

“Thanks,” Chenle says.

Jeno leaves, the echo of the door closing behind him leaving you and Chenle draped in an awkward silence. You place the binder on the table on the glass table, turning to face your husband.

“Are you alright?” Chenle asks.

“Me?” You raise your eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He gives you a pointed look, one that tells you he’s in no way wanting to beat around the bush. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m…okay, yes. Maybe a little flustered, but I didn’t…hate what happened, if that’s what you’re asking.” You avoid his gaze, rolling your eyes as you stare off past him to the ornate details of the front door.

“We’re married,” he points out.

“Yes, I’m acutely aware of that fact, thank you.” Your fingers find the band of your wedding ring.

He pauses, but his gaze leaves goosebumps all over your body as he trails over you. “It’s clear we’re…attracted to each other. And you’re still sure you’d rather not attempt a real relationship.”

“We’ve talked about this.” You glance around, like the staff overhearing is the most embarrassing thing you’ll deal with.

“Not enough.”

“What else could we possibly add to that?”

“I don’t want us to tolerate each other, (Y/N). At the very least, we should try to be friends.” He takes a step closer to you.

You’ve been confronted by a lot of men in your life. There have been even more men who doubted your abilities, but none of them had ever intimidated you. Chenle, standing in front of you with a determined look on his face, intimidates you. A part of you—no matter how small it may be—knows he’s everything he says he is and more. He could give you the life you’ve always wanted, but you’re sure you don’t deserve it. Not until you’ve fulfilled your portion of the contract and take your place as CEO. Only then can you allow yourself to let go.

“Do you want me?” he asks. “In any way?”

“I don’t want to,” you tell him honestly. “But I do.”

“When we were on our honeymoon, or the semblance of whatever that was, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how we were forced into this arrangement, yet none of it…None of it feels wrong. You may not have paid me much attention beforehand, but for years before we were ever to be married, I’ve admired you. Your willpower and the way you hold your own. The independence you have. Your autonomy. I envy you.”

“Why? Why envy me?”

“Look at yourself.” Chenle puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to look into the floor-length mirrors against the wall. “I’m not talking about how beautiful you are, even though that’s definitely an added bonus. I mean the utter tenacity you have flowing through your veins. The way you can command attention the second you walk into a room. How you’re unafraid to put men with decades of more experience in their places. You are…unapologetically yourself. This life, one of business, is significantly easier for me as a man, yet you’ve absolutely bulldozed everyone in your way.”

“Chenle—”

“I’m not done.” He taps his fingers against you.

Seeing him standing behind you in these mirrors is making your heart race, your brain jolting with electricity, and inexplicable thoughts running around your mind. He looks good like this. He watches you fondly, the admiration in his gaze evident.

“But you’re honest, too. With your intentions and with the way you want to live your life. I wish you’d give me the chance to prove how things could be, but like I said before, these choices are yours alone. Don’t get that confused with me not wanting to try. Because I’ll keep trying as long as you want me in…whatever way.”

You turn to him, craning your neck to look at him with your hands flat on his chest. “I’m beginning to think you’re crazy.”

“If trying to give my wife the life she deserves is crazy, then I’ll gladly claim that title.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Something tells me you might come around someday.”

“I wish you saw things the way I do,” you mutter.

“I think the same way. But as much as I understand your fears, they shouldn’t hinder you in your life. You’re allowed to explore all aspects. Business. Joy. Intimacy. Love.”

“And you’re an expert on intimacy?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Expert might be a strong word, but I won’t ever lie to you. I’ve been in love in the past and gotten hurt because of it. But every heartbreak is worth it if it leads you to the person you were made for.” His hands slide to your hips, fingertips barely applying any pressure. “If we find we’re not good for each other, I’d let you go. You’re bound to me in a legal sense only. Paper. It means nothing unless we make it mean something.”

“You…scare me,” you breathe out. “This scares me.”

“We’re doing something right, then.” He lets out a short chuckle. “But I like this. Being close to you. Knowing that we’d be so much better as a team than as roommates.”

“I’ve always worked alone.”

“Does that mean you’ve never been in love?”

You shake your head. “Never. I don’t give myself the time to feel things like that.”

“So, feel.” His finger brushes below your chin, angling you so your eyes meet his. “Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

“I—”

“Don’t think. Feel.”

“I…I’m nervous. You can’t be real. I’ve only been burned in the past, but it feels like you’d…just keep me warm. I don’t know if I want that.” You gulp past the unexplainable lump in your throat. “It’s…overwhelming.”

“What can I do to help you?” Chenle asks. “Whatever you need. Tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”

“You.” Your voice almost refuses to work. “I want you, but I…I need time to see if that’s really it or if I’m tricking myself in order to fulfill these stupid obligations set for me.”

“Which obligations?”

“Heirs.” You avert your gaze, but he gently pulls you right back.

“Take whatever time you need. I mean it. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to push you into any situations like that.” He reaches up and plays with a strand of your hair. “But there are…plenty of ways to explore that side of our relationship without pregnancy being a risk. Or a reward, if that’s what you view it as.”

Your face burns. Never before has a man made you blush.

“With that in the open, does removing the pregnancy factor make you want me any less?”

You contemplate. While you’d love to say that portion of your contract was the last thing on your mind, you thought of it frequently. But thoughts of what he’s mentioning has your insides twisting and turning in every way, with or without heirs being involved. When he touched you earlier, his hands on your bare skin, that genuinely wasn’t a thought. You want him for personal gain, but not in the way you originally assumed.

“Never less,” you murmur. The warmth around you becomes unbearable, yet you still find yourself shivering. “I think we need to come back to this at a different time.”

“Of course.” He takes a step back, allowing cool air to rush over you. Grabbing the binder from the table, he gestures for you to follow him into his office. “Shall we move on to some numbers, then?”

Finally, you laugh shortly. “Yeah. Yes, that sounds good.”

After two hours of studying the documents, spreadsheets, and all the other information Jeno brought for Chenle, the two of you have gotten as far as discovering the payments were sent to the same bank account. Stress is written across his face, and eventually, you slide the binder away from him.

“You’re going to run yourself into the ground,” you scold him. “It’s time for a break.”

“What time is it?” he asks, massaging his forehead.

“Almost 8pm.” You lean back in your chair and cross your legs.

His lips part in shock, and he checks his watch. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t even…you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Neither have you,” you point out.

“We’ve already established that you’re more important.” He lets out a sigh, partially filled with frustration. “You know what? Why don’t you get changed and we’ll go out?”

“Together?” Your eyes widen.

“We’re married. It’d be weird if we went by ourselves.”

“Right, of course. Um, anything in particular I should wear?”

“The choice is yours.” He grins, and like it’s the easiest thing in the world, robs all of the oxygen from your lungs. You realize then that you don’t see him smile much, but the pang in your heart can only mean you want to see it over and over again.

“Okay.” You nod and stand. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Take your time. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“You sure you don’t want to pick?” you offer one last time.

“While that would honestly be an honor, darling, I’m trying to prove a point here.” He lifts himself to his feet and reaches across the desk to close the binder. “I could use a drink.”

You give him a small smile before you exit his office. Once he’s out of sight, you practically bound up the stairs. You’d been on dates before, sure, but this feels different. You know better than to let yourself look too far ahead, so once you’re in your closet, you want to make sure you wear something nice. You pick a dress you’re sure you can get yourself out of. Unlike your outfit from earlier, this one isn’t as tight to your figure, and the soft color matches you well. For business meetings, you only wear black. Wearing bright colors hasn’t ever brought you success, but you figure you can wear the purple for a date with your husband.

A date. Is it a date?

That part of it doesn’t matter. This dress makes you feel good about yourself, truly. Disgust immediately sends a shiver down your spine when you realize you’re beginning to ponder how Chenle will perceive you. He’s a man. You could wear a trash bag and he’d think you did something revolutionary. Brushing the skirt of your dress off, you grab a pair of heels, slide them on, and head back down the stairs. He waits by the door, his suit jacket back on and buttoned in the middle. He turns at the sound of your shoes on the floor, and he freezes in his spot.

“What?” you inquire.

“I just…I’ve never seen you in that color before.” He clears his throat, but his cheeks tinge with a light, barely noticeable pink. “You…it suits you well.”

“Thank you.” Before you attempt to leave the door, he grabs your jacket from the rack and drapes it over your shoulders.

“It’s cold, darling,” he mutters, making sure the fabric is secure on your shoulders.

“You don’t think it ruins the outfit?”

“Not a chance. Jacket or not, it’s my favorite of yours.”

“Relax with the compliments. You’re making me blush.” You brush your fingertips against his shoulder and exit the house.

“My hard work is paying off. Good to know.” He closes the door behind him and guides you to the car with his hand on the small of your back. “I’ll stop with the compliments if you ever stop deserving them. Which I doubt will happen, by the way.”

The drive is thirty minutes, and the city is still bustling by the time Chenle is helping you out of the car. His palm against yours makes your stomach flip, and you’re beginning to hate this effect he has on you. It seems like it hit you out of nowhere, and you’d prefer if it were to sink back into the depths of hell where it came from in the first place. But before you know it, you’re a glass and a half deep of wine, you’ve eaten enough pasta to get you through the night, and Chenle’s in the exact same boat you’re in. Between the two of you, you’ve finished a bottle, and it seems as if your husband is debating ordering another one.

You hide a laugh with another sip from your glass and shake your head. “I cannot believe we’re this out of order.”

“The order doesn’t matter as long as the end result is desirable. Isn’t that true?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Mm, I’ve always been an order of operations girl. Everything has to happen in the exact right way.” You set your drink down and rest your head on your palm.

“I just realized I know…nothing about your past. Please, tell me what the younger version of you was like. What kind of trouble did you get into?”

“Wow, what makes you assume I got into trouble?” you tease him, unable to fight your smile.

He sucks in a deep breath and pats his legs. “God, I’m not sure. It couldn’t be the way you never take no for an answer or how you absolutely run over everyone in your way.”

“I’ll have you know that I am a very composed human.” You run your tongue over your teeth.

“I’d expect nothing less, to be honest.” He gives you a soft smile. “And for the record, I enjoy those qualities. There aren’t many people in this world that would be unafraid of calling me out if I’m doing something wrong.”

“You mean earlier.”

“I mean in general, but that does apply, yes.”

“I only want to be a balance for you.” You look down at the red liquid in your cup. “We’re meant to complement each other now, yeah?”

“I think we were the most strategic pair…ever.” Chenle nods.

“Can I be honest with you?” You take another sip.

“Absolutely.”

“You asked me earlier what about you makes this situation hard. Or what about you makes it hard for me to…let go of certain views.” You clear your throat, dreading the conversation more than you’d care to admit. “I feel like it’s…because a part of me knows the greatness we’d be capable of together. But I’ve worked hard to build my own greatness, and I can almost guarantee the second this becomes real, my greatness becomes ours.”

“Ah.” He purses his lips. “I won’t lie to you. There will be people that see it that way. But by being married to me, those people already exist.”

“I’m not talking about other people. I don’t care about them or their opinions.” You finish off your glass.

“You…you mean me?” His eyes widen in shock.

“That is a fear I have.”

He flounders for a second, and he scrambles for words for the first time all day. “I’m sorry, I just…I’m not sure if there’s anything I can say to make this better. I…(Y/N), I know my promises probably don’t mean much to you at this point, but I’d never discount you like that. Or take credit for anything you’ve done. How can I make that clearer?”

“It’s not your issue to correct.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “It’s mine. And I don’t say it to make you feel responsible, but as a forewarning, I guess. Being a woman and working my way to the top just to have…this thrust upon me is a little redundant.”

“You never wanted to marry in the first place.” It’s not a question.

“That’s correct.”

He blows out a long breath and looks down at his hands, twisting the wedding band on his finger. “You never saw this in the cards for you.”

“I knew I’d eventually have to marry for company purposes. My father would never let himself die before he knows I’ve carried on his line.” You snort and shake your head. “But I figured all of these types of marriages were the same. People signed their paperwork and barely acknowledged each other unless it was to reproduce.”

Chenle lets out a laugh. “Your word choice is interesting.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” You cover your mouth as you join him in laughter. “I just never thought you’d be…you.”

“I live to prove to you that you can have everything. We can be happy, have a real family, and still be at the top of our field. Both independently and together.”

Fortunately for the both of you, Chenle doesn’t order the second bottle of wine. Instead, he pays the bill and leads you from the restaurant with his arm wrapped around your waist. He opens the car door for you, and as you place your hand in his to enter, he squeezes your hand gently. Once you get home, the two of you separate at the top of the stairs, him heading off to a spare room down the hall while you step into the room that technically belongs to him. You change without interrupt, your silk nightgown soft on your skin as you climb into bed.

You stare up at the ceiling, tracing along it with your eyes as if you were drawing a map. Where the destinations were you had yet to figure out, but you imagined a whole new world up there, one where you didn’t have to have this wall up. One where you didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for a shred of respect you more than deserve. One where you didn’t have to be scared of what Chenle was trying to offer you.

You sigh, clutching the blanket to your chest. The wine has since settled in your system, yet your blood still runs warm. The map on the ceiling becomes mountains, oceans, continents. It forms real shapes, real geography in your mind, but you find the destination right in the middle is where you truly want to be. When you look at your phone, the time is already past 2 a.m., and you’re not anywhere near tired. You’re startled by the knock. You shuffle out of bed, crossing your arms over your chest as you crack the door open slightly.

Chenle stands there, hands buried deep in his sweatpants. His eyes sweep over you as you open the door wider.

“You’re up,” he comments.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You shrug. “You’re up. And here.”

“I was hoping I could talk to you.” He pauses. “I can’t stop thinking, and I just really don’t want to be alone right now.”

Your heart skips a beat. As much as you hate it, warmth spreads through your entire being at the thought of his first idea being you.

“This is your room, Chenle. I’m not going to tell you you can’t come in your own bedroom.” You step back to give him space to walk in, but he stays put outside, staring at you as if he’s seeing straight into your soul. You give him a pointed look, but give in. “Yes, it’s okay for you to come in here. I’d prefer company as well.”

He shuffles past you, tiredness clearly weighing down as the bottoms of his feet slide across the hardwood floor. You watch him closely, admiring him. Quickly, you realize that he fits into any room he walks in. He belongs anywhere and everywhere, and within moments, he makes you feel something you’ve only ever been able to provide for yourself until this moment—safe.

“Sorry,” he whispers with a sigh. “I need to stop thinking.”

“Trust me, I get it. Me too.” You stand with your arms still crossed over your chest and you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“I shouldn’t bore you.” He waves you off and sits on the edge of his bed. “How are you adjusting?”

“I’m okay. I’m not complaining about my accommodations.” You move and sit next to him, putting your hand on his knee. “You won’t bore me. If something’s bothering you, I want to try and help.”

His eyes sparkle even in the dark. The landscapes of the map you drew reflect in his gaze, and you swear you see every mountain, every body of water, entire worlds forming in his irises. How have you never seen this before? Why are you seeing it now?

“The payments,” he murmurs. “The idea that my father might know about them. Might be facilitating them. It’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

“When I said that, I didn’t mean to upset you.” You reach over and grab his hand. “We just need to take precaution when it comes to situations like this. If it is him and he knows we’re onto him, it might be…a bigger issue than it needs to be.”

“I know that. I guess it’s the idea that he’d be capable of something like that.��� Chenle stares down at the way your thumb traces against his skin.

“You look up to him.”

“I did. I do. A lot, actually, so this seems so…backwards. That’s a lot of money per quarter, you know? I could only imagine what it’s going towards.” He turns his hand around so your palms are touching, and he gently intertwines your fingers. “Sorry, I should’ve asked if this was okay.”

“It’s more than okay. Don’t worry about me. Keep talking.”

“My parents never really loved each other. They grew to love their life together, but not each other. And despite that, I had a decent time growing up. They were good parents to me, and that’s what truly matters at the end of the day, but it makes me wonder if they’re…not these great people I’ve made them out to be in my head.” He lets out a short chuckle. “This sounds pathetic.”

“Hey.” Before you realize what you’re doing, you reach up to cup his cheek and bring his gaze back to yours. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not pathetic. These are valid concerns, and if you’ve been lied to for this long, you have every right to be upset.”

You’re so distracted by him, you barely even recognize the softness of his face. Your thumb runs gently along his cheekbone, and you watch as the frown fades from his features. Something you can’t recognize forms behind his irises, yet it still feels familiar. How do you explain how the normal beat of your heart hurts? How do you tell him that seeing him upset like this feels like needles running along your skin?

“My father would tell me I was foolish for hoping for love,” Chenle whispers. “He said it was a waste of time, since any man as busy as we are just isn't suited for it. For families.”

“If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I would’ve agreed with him.” You squeeze his hand and give him a small smile.

“Something changed?” he asked.

“I don’t think that way anymore,” you admit. “Now, I’ve realized it’s about the amount of effort someone is willing to put in. It has nothing to do with time. We make time for those we care about.”

He leans into your touch as his eyes flutter shut. You admire the angelic glow the stars leave on his skin, and despite how tired he is, he’s still so fucking beautiful. Your throat dries at the sight, and you hate how it feels like your insides are at war.

“I like this,” he tells you. “Being with you like this.”

“Me, too.” You smile, even though he can’t see you. “You should try and sleep though. You’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”

His chest visibly deflates, and he places his hand on top of yours to pull it away from his face. “Of course. I…I’ll get going.”

You recoil, but you don’t let go of his other hand. “Oh. Is that what you want?” Nerves crawl around in your stomach. You figured he’d stay with you tonight, in his own bed. That maybe the two of you would learn to be better comforted by each other’s presence.

“You’re tired, and I’m keeping you up. I was inconsiderate.” He clears his throat.

“No, no,” you quickly interject. “That’s not what I meant at all. I’m only worried about you, so I was hoping you’d stay with me.”

“In here?” he asks.

You nod. “Yes. If it were my choice, you’d stay.”

“Damn, you got me there.” He delivers a tired grin and ultimately agrees. “I’d love that, (Y/N). Truly.”

You let him settle in beneath the comforter first, and he lifts it to allow you room to slide in next to him. Neither of you say anything else, but things seem to fall together naturally. He opens his arms, you push yourself against his chest, and then he wraps you up tightly in his warm embrace. He smells faintly of cologne, a soft, woody scent that engulfs you pleasantly. Despite the way you failed to fall asleep earlier, you struggle to remember a time you’d ever fallen into your dream world faster.

When you wake without Chenle in the morning, you’re sure you dreamed the last portion of the night. That is, until you see that it’s almost 10 am. You gasp and launch yourself out of bed. You never sleep in this late, so you quickly dress yourself and get ready for the day. Chenle’s side of the bed is mussed, so you determine it was, indeed, not a dream, and you make sure you look as presentable as your normal standard before you go downstairs to find where your husband disappeared to. The smell of breakfast emanates from the kitchen, so you naturally gravitate that way. When you step into the room, you’re taken aback by the company present. Not just your own parents, but Chenle’s as well. Your husband stands at the end of the table, clearly stressed with all of the people in your kitchen. He notices you first and breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of you.

“Wow,” you say as you approach Chenle and stand next to him. “Were we expecting everyone today?”

“Nope.” He chuckles and, much to apparently both of your surprises, he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Everyone showed up an hour or so ago.”

Through the burning of your cheeks, your gaze shoots up to his and you lower your voice. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You looked really comfortable.” He shrugs.

“(Y/N), Chenle was just telling us that you’re accepting the COO position at his company,” your mother butts in. Of course, business talk immediately.

“Yes, we—”

“Isn’t that a little early? And don’t you have enough responsibilities as COO of my company?” your father grumbles, and you already start to shrink into yourself in his presence.

“She’s more than capable,” Chenle defends you. “If I didn’t think she could handle it, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Don’t interrupt their family discussions, Chenle, that’s rude,” his mother scolds him.

“This marriage was a merger, was it not?” Chenle raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that technically make our families interconnected now?”

“We’ll consider them officially connected when she’s had her first child.” Your father points his finger at you. “Speaking of which, what’s taking so long?”

Your jaw drops, and you shift uncomfortably. It’s one thing to talk about your husband getting you pregnant with your own father, but him being so comfortable spitting things out like that in front of Chenle’s parents as well has you feeling queasy.

“We’ve been married for two months.”

“Your mother was pregnant after three weeks.”

“I don’t really want to hear about you impregnating my mother—”

“You’re making excuses, (Y/N), you know what’s on the line here.” Your father tsks at you, sipping from his water glass.

“Sir, all due respect, but it’s not like we knew each other very well. We’re both still getting comfortable with each other. And we’re young. We have plenty of time to have children.” As soon as the words leave Chenle’s mouth, you reach over and grasp his hand. It’s not visible below the table, but he squeezes you in reassurance.

“And what happens if she were to die tomorrow? My bloodline dies with her?” Your father narrows his eyes at Chenle. Your heart sinks in your chest, and you scratch your forehead.

“Even if she were to be pregnant, if she died tomorrow there wouldn’t be an heir either way,” your husband replies.

“Is there a reason we’re having such a lovely family reunion?” you butt in, hoping to curve their conversation.

“Do we need a reason to visit our daughter?” your mother asks.

“Typically, yes.” You shrug. “You never show up unannounced.”

“Oh, I take it they haven’t seen the tabloids,” Chenle’s father mentions.

You stand from your spot and pull your phone out of your pocket to check. You hear Chenle whisper something to the group before he pushes his chair back to join you. Despite the anxiety crawling up your spine, the warmth of him right behind you calms you.

“They came here because there’s a couple articles of people being shocked that we like each other?” you hiss, tossing your phone on the counter.

“Breathe,” Chenle tells you, putting his hands on your shoulders. “They’ll eventually leave us alone, but we’ve got to placate them for now.”

“Placate them?” You turn to him and raise your eyebrow. “You exchanged words with my father.”

“He said stupid things.” Chenle shrugs.

You chuckle. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ah, but you said the people are surprised we like each other, so I’m assuming you enjoy how ridiculous I am.” He bites back a grin when he sees you blush.

“God, you’ve got to stop doing that.” You push gently at his chest and walk back to your parents and your in-laws.

“I’m not sure this is really something that should have blame assigned,” Chenle’s mother says. “I’ve seen married couples go years without children.”

You curse under your breath. Of course, this is still the topic of conversation.

“That’s not how it works in this family. Heirs come first immediately after marriage.” Your mother sips from a champagne flute.

“Well, that’s hardly Chenle’s fault—”

“He’s a man. How hard is it to impregnate a woman?” Your mother scoffs. “Please, she’s not ugly by any means.”

“Mother, dear God,” you snap. “Why in the world are we still talking about this?”

“I’m sorry, are you questioning my son’s…viability?” Chenle’s father narrows his eyes.

You want to combust into flames right then and there. The immediate assumption that the reason behind you not being with child yet is that Chenle simply can’t get it up. How fucking great.

“I’m just saying, there were other men contending for a contract that were more than willing—”

“That’s enough,” you shout.

You have four shocked faces staring at you, and you feel Chenle go rigid behind you.

“I am beyond tired of this conversation already. We’ve only been married for two months, and that’s just not enough time. I barely even knew him when I married him, and we’re trying to do this the normal way. As normally as we can.” You pause. “I’m the one that wants to wait. And it is a want, not a necessity, so neither of us are…sexually dysfunctional.”

Chenle holds back a laugh behind you, but four sets of eyes are still on you. And while it’s technically not the truth—as you’ve stated multiple times you’d be okay with having an heir quickly—you’d rather this portion of it fall on you than on him. Your parents would lose their minds.

“And let’s not forget that (Y/N) is a human with a career that’s just as important as mine,” your husband adds. “Having a child at this time could put her back immensely after all the hard work she’s put in. If she wants to wait, nobody should have a say in that other than her.”

With every word coming out of Chenle’s mouth, he gets more and more attractive to you. You wish today had been a simple morning, truly. One where you’d wake up with him next to you and he’d hold you for however long the two of you could stand to stay still for.

“You should be happy we’re trying to do this properly.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Love is a waste of time in a business arrangement.” Your father sets his empty water glass on the table.

“I agree. It’s better to get the obligations out of the way first, and then worry about trying to create something real,” Chenle’s father agrees.

“Right, because that worked out so well for you,” Chenle says.

Today was going to be a long, long day.

Your parents and in-laws stayed for another hour, and then they (thankfully) willingly left on their own accord. As soon as Chenle closes the door behind his parents, you sigh in relief and slump your back against the counter. He approaches you without a word, and almost like it’s instinct, you wrap your arms around him. Running his fingers through your hair, he holds you as close as he can.

“I’m sorry my parents implied you’re impotent,” you mutter, and you and Chenle burst into laughter at the same time.

“Wow. Clearly the only two options for an explanation as to why you’re not pregnant within two months are impotency or your husband not finding you attractive. Which, for the record, neither of those are an issue.”

“Gross. But thanks, I think?” You lean back slightly to look at him and find him smiling at you.

“Just being honest. If I was impotent, I would’ve told you before we married for business purposes. And if you don’t know how attractive you are at this point, that would be one of the world’s biggest mysteries.” He pulls you to him until your chest presses against his. “But, since I was so rudely torn away from my beautiful wife this morning by our nosy, no fucking good parents dropping in like we’re fifteen years old, I wanted to thank you for last night. Since I couldn’t earlier.”

“Thank me?” You frown and tilt your head.

“I needed that. I didn’t even know it, but I needed it,” Chenle tells you.

“Of course,” you murmur. “You never have to be alone for those moments.”

“Just for those moments?” He fakes a pout. “Does that mean I have to go back to my own room?”

You give him a pointed look, and then pretend to be lost in thought momentarily. “Pretty sure that’s only when you make me mad. I guess married couples argue and then the wives send the husbands to the couch. But in this case, there’s an extra bedroom. Or twenty.”

“Can I…can I try something?” he asks, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Close your eyes,” he mutters.

If he was anyone else, you’d be asking a million questions. But this is Chenle, and you’ve grown to realize he’s exactly who he said he is. You trust him inexplicably.

“Wow,” he says. “Not even a sarcastic comment. I think I’m winning you over.”

You open one eye, push at his shoulder, and then close it again. You’re more than tempted to open them again when his hands cup your cheeks. His thumbs caress your skin, and your breath gets caught in your throat. Your heart races in anticipation as you await his next move, craving whatever it is he wants to give you. You gasp quietly when you feel his lips brush yours, and your body tenses.

“Relax,” he whispers. “It’s me.”

You don’t give him the opportunity to finish closing the distance between you two. You do it for him. Pushing yourself forward, you seal the kiss with him quickly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. He curses against you, and you follow suit when he wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you onto the counter. For a brief moment, he pulls away from you, chest heaving as he pants.

“Chenle.” You hate that it comes out as a whimper, but you love the way he reacts to it.

He kisses you again, harder this time while one of his hands tangles in your hair and the other sits on your thigh where the hem of your dress is. Instinctively, to make your dress ride up your legs more, you lift one and hike it up around his waist. The fabric slips past his fingertips, now resting much higher than it was before. You pull him closer until he’s right up against the lace of your panties.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly, digging his nails into your skin. “You’d better think this through, darling.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but heat floods your core. You need him.

“Please,” you whisper to him, watching as his eyes darken right in front of you. When you let your hand travel down his body, you smirk at how his length hardens further beneath your touch.

“Shit.” His hips unintentionally thrust into your hand. “Fuck, we should stop.”

You drop your head against his shoulder, retracting your hand away from him. “Well, impotency definitely won’t be a problem.”

He kisses up your neck. “Sorry. I don’t want to get carried away. Or even more carried away, I guess.”

“Look at me.” You wait for him to listen to you. “You don’t have to hold back if you don’t want to. Your desires are just as important as mine.”

“Before we…do anything, I need to make sure I have condoms.” He clears his throat and removes your leg from around his waist.

“Wait, what?” You frown and lean away from him. “What do we need those for?”

“Are you serious?” He takes a step back.

“Well, yeah. We’re married. We need to have children, why would we use condoms?” You run your fingers through your hair.

He sighs and runs his hands down his face. “We talked about this. I was under the impression that we were figuring this out first and then worrying about how and when we’d have children.”

“We can’t do both at the same time?”

“Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want kids yet?” He tilts his head at you and narrows his eyes. “Yes, I understand that’s part of the deal and why we’re even married in the first place, but I don’t want to even risk having kids if I don’t know it’s really me you want.”

Embarrassment floods through you, and you slide off the counter and send him back a few more paces. You pull your dress down and grimace at the thought of being in a position like that.

“After everything we’ve talked about and the time we’ve spent together, you really think that’s not true? You think I don’t want you?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. All of this is confusing. And then our parents are here pressuring you into having a kid, and you’re—”

“Oh, my God.” Your jaw drops, and you brush off your skirt. “You’re literally the one who kissed me. And then you put me on—God forbid I ask a simple question, right? That must mean I’m trying to jump your bones to get my way.”

“(Y/N), that’s not what I said—”

“Maybe not, but that’s sure as hell what you meant. And here I am, like a fucking idiot, letting you touch me when you think that fucking low of me.” You clench your fists at your side, and you’re unaccustomed to the way your heart twists so hard in your chest. “God, fuck you.”

You turn away from him and stomp off, painfully aware of your over-exaggeration. The logical side of you begs you to calm down, since both of your concerns are valid, but the side of you you’re experiencing for the first time is stronger than what you’re accustomed to. When you make it upstairs and to your room, you sit on the edge of the bed and force yourself to breathe. Chenle’s assumption hurt you. It’s as simple as that. You’ve let yourself like him, and now he has this power over you. With a simple miscommunication, it feels like everything is falling apart before it even begins.

You blink rapidly to stop the tears from welling in your eyes, and eventually, you’re more annoyed by your reaction than by the actual situation. The door creaks open, and Chenle walking in makes relief flood through your veins. He moves over to you and sits down next to you, reaching over to grab your hand.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod and lean into his chest, craving his comfort. He sighs, wraps his arms around you tightly, and strokes your hair. With your ear pressed against him, you hear how his heart beats just as hard as yours.

“I think we both got a little carried away there,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I got so upset.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He kisses the top of your head. “It’s never my intention to hurt you. Or to make you regret anything we do.”

You sit there in silence, appreciating the comfort he gives you simply by being next to you.

“I was…I don’t know. Embarrassed, I think.” You chuckle at yourself, but you don’t find it funny at all. “That you would think I’d just…do that without being truthful to you. I’ve had a lot of men assume things about me throughout my entire life. Because of my success, it’s either from my father handing it to me or because I slept my way to the top. So, I’m sure you can see why I had trouble comprehending that as anything else.”

“And I hope you know that’s not what I was thinking at all. I know how much of an influence your parents have had on you. All I ever want to do is make sure you’re making your choices for you. I never communicated that I would want to use condoms if we started sleeping together because I didn’t really assume we’d get there.” He squeezes you closer to him and takes a deep breath.

“I’m also sorry for yelling at you.” You scrunch your nose up and look at him. “That was…really weird.”

“Weird?” A small smile pulls at his lips.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before. And it’s scary that you have that kind of power over me, even if I know you wouldn’t use it against me intentionally.”

“Learning how to manage those feelings will come with the territory. Have some faith in me, alright? I’m not saying things just to bring you down.” He tilts your head up, his gaze scanning over your face. “I want you to be happy. Obviously, bonus points if I’m a part of that happiness.”

“You are.”

“Good. You deserve only good things in life, and I need to make sure you get them.”

He leans down and presses his lips to yours, gently working your mouths together. You sigh into him and tangle your fingers in his hair. Everything about this feels good. It has warmth spreading in your chest from knowing someone in this world cares for you beyond what you can give them. You know he wants you, but you also know he’s going to have your best interest in mind.

He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. “We’ll learn each other, darling. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to.”

Whether intentionally or not, you and Chenle keep your distance from each other for a couple days. Today, however, you’ve no choice but to be around each other later for the board meeting, where they’ll vote on the CFO position. And your COO position, but Chenle made it very clear that the vote was simply a formality. You choose a black dress, zip it up, put your earrings in, and head downstairs, where your husband waits for you by the door. He looks at you as you stop on the bottom step, a loud clack coming from your heel.

“Yes?” You tilt your head at him.

“Are those earrings new?” He buttons his suit jacket.

“Not new.” You shake your head. “I just haven’t worn them since we married.”

“Right.” He walks over to you and offers you his arm. “Do you like receiving new things?”

You loop yours through his and allow him to guide you toward the door. “I guess that would depend on the context of receiving.”

“If I buy things for you, will they be well received?” he asks.

“You think you know me well enough to buy me things I’d enjoy?” You bite back a smile as he leads you outside and to the car.

With his hand on the small of your back, he helps you into the backseat before following. “I think I’d figure it out fairly quickly. I’m a smart man.”

“They…would be received. Maybe not well, but received nonetheless.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, relaxing against the seat. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I can’t make it too easy for you.” You purse your lips, and without much thought, you scoot closer to him and place your hand on his.

“I don’t think easy is the right word for most things when it comes to you.” He laughs, turning his smile toward you.

“Most things?”

“Being with you is easy. Or around you, I should say. You’re pleasant company. Easy to have an intellectual conversation with, easy to relax around. Those are the easy things.”

“Wow.” You bite back your grin. “You sure know how to woo a woman.”

“Not just any woman,” he interjects. “My wife.”

“Your wife.” It’s the first time you’ve called yourself that out loud, and it has a weird, unrecognizable feeling sprouting in your stomach.

“I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it seems like you’re coming around a little bit.” He nudges you gently. “I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I’ve missed you the past few days. After the other day, I wanted to give you space in case you didn’t want to see me, but I should’ve thought to ask you.”

He stares down at where your hands are connected, his thumb rubbing against your skin.

You fight the urge to touch his face again. “I…I’ve missed you, too, I think.”

“You think?” Humor laces in his tone.

“I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to be around someone like this before.” You shrug, heat gathering in your cheeks. “Forgive me while I navigate whatever’s going on inside my brain.”

“I want to know everything you’re thinking,” he murmurs, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Every joke, unimportant sentence, emotion, process. I want to know you.”

You lean forward and press your lips to his without a single thought in your head, but he reciprocates with ease. Almost as if he’s not taken off-guard in the slightest.

“I could get used to that,” he says against your lips. “No more silence, okay? I don’t want to be away from you.”

“No more silence,” you agree.

When the two of you pull away from each other, your eyes widen at the sight of your lipstick on his lips. You grab his arm to stop him from getting out of the car and use your thumb to wipe the excess away.

“Made a mess, did you?” He grabs your wrist to stop you. “You don’t want anyone to see that you like me that much?”

A grin follows his words, and he grabs his handkerchief out of his pocket.

“No one can know I actually have a heart,” you interject, watching as he wipes his mouth.

“Alright.” He puts his hand on your knee and squeezes. “Are you ready?”

If there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s the overwhelming attraction you have for Chenle. You take him in for a moment, the dark sweep of his hair parted to reveal his forehead, the way he grips you, the way he watches you as if you’re the only person in the world to exist.

“Before we go,” you start, chuckling quietly at yourself for the question you’re about to ask him. “Did…did you ever get condoms?”

His lips part in shock, and he blinks and flounders for words for a solid few seconds before he clears his throat. “I…I mean, I did, but not because I thought we would—it was just a precaution, you know?”

“Do I make you, Zhong Chenle, so nervous that you’re stuttering right now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He pats your thigh. “Absolutely, you do.”

You silently thank whoever made this car for the partition between the driver and you and Chenle. “I could do so many other things to you that are so much better.” You gently touch his tie, wrapping your fingers around the fabric and pulling on it to bring him closer to you.

“I truly have no doubt that’s true.” He wets his lips. “If we don’t get out of this car in the next ten seconds, I’m having the driver fucking turn us around. We can’t miss the vote.”

“I guess receiving the title of COO is a little more important than banging my husband.”

“Fuck, I need to get out right now.” He glances up at the ceiling and throws the door open without any more hesitation. Like usual, he turns and offers you his hand.

You take it gratefully, and you loop your arm through his once your feet are safely on the ground. While you follow his lead, you realize something that has the gears in your brain turning. Chenle is the only man you’ve ever accepted guidance from. As miniscule as it seems to allow him to walk you inside, you can’t deny how you’d willingly follow him wherever he may go.

The vote does go off without a hitch, and not even half an hour after you receive your title, you’re in an office plugging away at whatever work needs to be done. Unfortunately, you’re awfully distracted by the thought of Chenle by himself down the hall. A knock on the glass door jolts you out of your thoughts. You see Jeno standing there with a file in his hands. You beckon for him to come in, and he gestures at the seat as if to ask you if he can sit.

“Please.” You nod, folding your hands together. “Did you need something?”

The man hands you the file. “We were able to trace the owner of the bank account, and an address associated with it. I…I figured it’d be best to leave this information with you, given that this could be sensitive information.”

You open it, glancing through the charges. “It started with a different bank account and name.”

“It did. Payments were originally made to a Liu Shuye, and just over two years ago, the bank account switched to a Liu Sujia.” Jeno pauses and takes a deep breath. “I think it’d be better for you to do this portion of it on your own.”

“They have different surnames.” You tap your pen on your desk. “And you’ve never heard of this person before today?”

“Not once.”

“Very well.” You sigh and close the folder, gaze meeting Jeno’s. “Thank you. I’ll look into this further and determine at what point Chenle needs to be involved. For now, Jeno, keep this between us.”

“Of course.” Jeno nods and stands. With a quick bow of his head, he moves to the door. “He’s a good man, (Y/N). Chenle, I mean. But he feels too easily, so tread carefully with whatever you find.”

“I will.”

Once Jeno departs, you cross your arms over your chest and stare down at the information delivered. These payments were made for years, so you’re unsure of how this could relate to Chenle in specific, but you feel an overwhelming resolve to make sure whatever this is doesn’t hurt him.

Chenle came to get you from your office at almost 7pm. He refused to let you work any longer and insisted he had to take you home. Your mind has been turning since Jeno brought you the documents, but you leave them buried in your desk and lay your head on Chenle’s shoulder for the duration of the car ride home. Once you're inside the house, Chenle takes your jacket off your shoulders and hangs it. You turn to him and grab his hand.

“Come to bed with me?” you ask.

“Of course.” He gives you the softest smile, and as you walk up the stairs, he follows closely behind you.

The two of you step inside his room. Chenle closes the door and then wraps his arms around your waist and tugs your back to his chest. He buries his head in your neck, a hum escaping past his lips.

“Are you tired?” you ask him, reaching up to play with his hair.

“No,” he mumbles. “I just want to be close to you. It’s been a long day, and you make me feel better.”

“Is that so?” You face him and tilt your head.

“I was scared to fall for you, too,” he whispers. “For anyone, but especially you. I know the reasons we’re here are vastly different from a conventional marriage, but I already wanted you before all of this.”

Your heart thuds in your chest as you realize his use of past tense. He was scared. Does that mean he already has fallen for you?

“C’mere,” you mutter. “We can be closer.”

“Are you sure?” He cups your cheeks, thumbing your skin. “I know we’ve gone back and forth a couple times, but I need you to know you don’t have to do anything for me. Ever.”

“Kiss me, Chenle.”

All events of the day are forgotten as soon as his lips are on yours. His hands explore along your back, fingers clenching onto the fabric of your dress as he inhales shakily. When he pulls away, it’s only for a second, as if he can’t stop himself from going back for more.

“Please tell me this means something to you.” He gulps, his words punctuated by kisses as he turns you around and walks you backward. “That I’m not crazy for wanting you the way I do.”

As the back of your knees make contact with the bed, you grip onto his shoulders, breathless from the passion behind his kiss. “You’re not crazy. It’s terrifying how fast you’ve become all I think about. Your smile and your laugh and the passion you carry. This means everything to me.”

His eyes sparkle in the lamp-lit room, a warmth dancing around in them you’ve never seen from anyone before. He finds the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down.

“I hope you truly know how fucking exquisite you are,” Chenle murmurs, removing the fabric from your body and returning his touch to your back to explore your bare skin. “I don’t want to fight these feelings anymore.”

“Do something about it, then.”

The heat radiating from him keeps the chill of the air in the room off of your skin, and after he guides your back down on the mattress, he haphazardly tosses his suit jacket away. You scoot back to give him more space, and he climbs on top of you. You part your legs further, nearly gasping when he takes his spot between them, pressing against you as if he were made to fill that space. As he takes your lips with his own, you work on the buttons of his shirt. Your hands shake, making it difficult, but he doesn’t mention it. He keeps kissing you like he’ll die of thirst the second he pulls away.

You finally get the last one, and he sits up briefly to rid himself of the extra material. Before it’s even completely removed, you reach down for his belt. He stares at your hands as you unbuckle it, but you don’t have time to slide it off him. When his mouth crashes into yours again, you lift your hips up.

A quiet, needy sigh passes through his lips. “God, I fucking need you so bad.”

“I’m yours,” you tell him. “Show me how much you need me.”

He grinds down against you, and his hard length slides against the wet spot in your lace panties. That time, you do gasp. It’s been much too long since you allowed yourself pleasure by another’s hand, and you crave that closeness with Chenle.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, voice rough.

“Please.” You nod. “Touch me wherever you want.”

He curses under his breath, but he presses his lips to yours once more, then along your jawline, down your neck, and paying attention to the valley between your breasts. He squeezes the right one, rubbing his thumb against your nipple through the somewhat thick material.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He nips at your skin, and you already know he’ll leave marks on you. Pausing, he takes a deep breath. “You—you’ve done this before, right?”

“Done what?”

“Sex.”

“I have. Why?”

“No, I just…you said you’d never been in love before and I didn’t want to just assume that you—”

“Just keep going.” You blush, but he listens to your command without hesitation.

When his mouth continues downward, leaving a trail of his saliva on your stomach until he reaches the hem of your panties. He tongues along the band, his eyes flicking up to yours.

“Good God,” you whisper, the urge between your legs becoming far too much for comfort. “What are you doing?”

“Getting my fill.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs.

When his thumb brushes your clit through your panties, your hips jolt. You curse, grasping onto the sheets as you prepare yourself for whatever he has planned. He smirks at your reaction, and as he pulls at your underwear, you lift up to urge him to move faster. He wraps his arms around your legs, his hands pressing your hips down into the mattress. Even though he opens his mouth to speak to you, his eyes don’t leave your glistening core.

“You can stop me if you change your mind. Just tell me.” He gulps, wetting his lips like he’s struggling to hold back.

“I won’t change my mind,” you reassure him.

“But you need to know it’s always an option.” He squeezes you gently, and without awaiting your response, he slides his tongue from your entrance to your clit.

No matter how embarrassing it is, you can’t stop the whimper escaping you. His tongue flicks your clit one, two, three times as he digs his nails into your skin. Pleasure isn’t entirely foreign to you, but you’re sure it’s the way your soul has begun craving Chenle’s that makes this so much better than anything else you’ve experienced. His grip on you keeps you from squirming too much, but you try regardless. As he steadily moves over your clit, your back arches off the mattress. Whines leave your mouth as you run your fingers through Chenle’s hair in encouragement.

He takes your sensitive bud into his mouth, sucking to add pressure, only to release it and start all over again. You lift yourself on your elbows to watch him, all while practically pushing his head further between your legs. His eyes are closed, and seeing his lips work on your core has to be one of the most erotic things you’ve ever witnessed.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, the vibrations against your entrance sending shivers up and down your spine.

You feel yourself approaching the edge. Your body tenses, but your high won’t take you. Cursing quietly, you lift your hips in an attempt to figure out why the hell you can’t get out of your head. Chenle pulls away from your core, pressing kisses to your inner thigh. “Relax, darling. It doesn’t matter how long it takes.”

“Please just…” You drop your head back on the mattress and let out a defeated breath. “I want all of you.”

He leans over to the bedside table and grabs a condom, trailing his lips up your body once more until he reaches your neck. His teeth graze your skin. “You can trust me, (Y/N). I’ll take care of you.”

“I do,” you mutter, running your fingers through his hair. “I swear I do.”

“It’s not me you have to convince.” He nips your collarbone. “We don’t have to keep going if you’re not ready.”

You shake your head. “I’m ready. I want you.”

“Okay.” He nods, pulling back to meet your gaze. His features are soft, nothing short of adoration in his eyes. “Try not to think about it too much. Just feel.”

“I’ve never been good at that.” You chuckle and grin at him.

“I’ll show you how, baby. I’ve got you.”

You crane upwards to kiss him, and he meets you in the middle. Tasting yourself on his tongue has you sighing into him, and you push at his pants in hopes that he’ll take the hint. He pauses to rid himself of the rest of his clothing, and then slides his hands beneath you to unclasp your bra. You arch your back to give him more space, and soon enough, nothing separates you from your husband anymore.

“You’re sure?” he asks you again, grabbing the wrapper once more.

“I want you,” you confirm.

Despite the confidence you usually feel, something here feels more…vulnerable than you’ve ever been. Your heart flutters in your chest as he opens the condom and slides it on, and you spread your legs further as he climbs over you again. No man has ever made you nervous before, even in similar situations, but something with him is different. You care about him. You want him to feel good, too, and you crave his promises of taking care of you.

“Need you to relax,” he whispers, peppering kisses on your jawline as he lines himself up with your soaked entrance. “Close your eyes, darling, just let yourself feel.”

You tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck, and you listen to him. Through the darkness, you see the world you drew on his ceiling, the one with beautiful landscapes, overarching mountains, fresh, clean streams, and you sigh in content. The middle of the map, the location you craved to be in, is right here. With him. His breath catches in his throat as he slides inside you, his length stretching you. He gulps and rests his head on your shoulder as he attempts to steady himself. You tangle your fingers in his hair, combing through the midnight strands. After both of you calm down from the initial overwhelming movement, you wrap your legs around his waist and lock your ankles together, tugging him up to kiss you. His lips work softly on yours, and he slowly grinds against you. He pulls out until only the tip is inside, and as he pushes back in, he moans into your mouth. Your body shudders at the sound.

“Tell me how it feels,” he says, chest pressed to yours. “How do I make you feel?”

“Chenle, I—” You blush despite the situation.

“You don’t have to be shy with me, baby. Let me help you.” He repeats his previous movement, and you watch as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. “I can tell you how it feels for me.”

You nod. “Please.”

The pace he sets is slow but has electricity coursing through your veins anyway. He continues to pull out almost all the way, just to allow you to experience the entirety of his length rubbing against your inner walls.

He gulps, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re divine, darling. You’re squeezing me so tight, I could stay here forever. It’s like you were fucking made for me, soaked and so fucking warm, baby, you take me so well.”

Everything he does is like a lightning strike, every fiber in your muscles breaking down as you yearn for this completion. You know you’ll never be able to stay away from him. Even if you don’t finish, this journey is just as good as the destination.

“Feels like I’m on fire,” you whisper. Thankfully, your eyes are closed, or he’d see them roll back. “You’re everywhere and it’s still not enough.”

He picks up his pace a bit, and a moan tumbles from your lips. He holds himself up on one of his elbows, his other hand gripping your thigh.

“That’s it.” He kisses you, gently biting at your bottom lip as he pulls away. “I could never have enough of you. Need you always. Forever.”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage, and despite the pleasure clouding your brain, you allow those words to sink in through your skin and bones, deeper still until they reach your soul. There, they repeat over and over again until they’re permanently tattooed upon every recognizable piece of yourself. The hand on your thigh skirts downwards, his palm pressing on your abdomen as his thumb brushes your clit. You jolt and whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. He curses, but doesn’t let up. As the knot forms in your stomach, you open your eyes to watch Chenle, his face scrunched in pleasure as your walls flutter around him as your high approaches. He doesn’t look away from you, and as you lift your hips to match his thrusts, his fist clenches the sheets next to your head.

“So fucking wet,” he groans, his thumb never faltering in pace as he rocks his hips against yours. “You’re so perfect, darling. Gonna let me feel you cum?”

Between the slide of his length inside you and the pressure on your sensitive bud, you’re dazed at best. You nod, gripping onto him.

“I’m so close,” you whimper. “God, I want it so bad.”

Chenle adjusts his hips, and the next time he thrusts in, he hits a spot that has you seeing stars. You’ve never unraveled like this before, but your body shakes as overwhelming pleasure takes over, your vision spotting as you cry out and grip onto your husband. Your toes curl as he quickens his pace, and it doesn’t take much longer for him to press himself as deep as he can to finish in the condom. His body slumps on top of yours, his chest heaving as he presses his lips across your hot skin.

“(Y/N)...” he says between pants. “Oh, my God.”

You let out a breathless giggle. “I didn’t do any of the work.”

“Promise you, just you being here is more than enough for me.” He kisses your cheek and gently removes your legs from his waist. “I’ll be right back.”

You stop yourself from whining at the loss of him inside you, but as he goes to dispose of the condom, you get yourself clothes to put on. You slide a new pair of panties on before setting your silk pajama set on the bed.

Chenle’s arm wraps around your waist, and he presses his back to your chest. “What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed.” You chuckle. “What should I be doing?”

“Absolutely nothing.” He presses a kiss to the base of your neck. “Supposed to be naked in bed and waiting for me.”

“Ah, is that so?” You pretend to be in thought, tapping your fingers on his wrist.

“Mhm. Don’t you know bare skin-to-skin contact promotes good bonding?” He pulls you away from the foot of the bed and guides you back to where he left you. “Bet you’ll sleep better, too.”

The two of you climb into bed together, and despite the way your internal temperature is much too high, you still thrive in the extra warmth of his embrace. You rest your head on his chest, his nails gently scratching up and down your back. He falls asleep first, his steady breathing nearly lulling you as well. You adjust your head on the pillow so you can see the softness of his features, and you allow yourself to reach up and trace along his cheekbone. If anyone had asked you at the beginning if you’d ever thought a moment as intimate as this were possible, you’d quickly tell them no. There was no way you’d ever let yourself be so vulnerable with anyone. Especially not someone who has no obligations to you other than legally marrying you.

But this is more. It’s so much more than a business arrangement, and maybe a part of you has always known that. It wasn’t hating him you were scared of, but loving him.

But here you are. And you’re long past falling.

Your morning is unfortunately hectic in the wake of the events of last night. Of course, you should’ve expected moments of relaxation in your marriage to be nearly non-existent, but neither you nor Chenle wanted to get out of bed. Despite that, today you planned on going to the address listed on the bank account. You roped Jisung in, even though he didn’t know all the details. He’s your cousin, after all, and he wasn’t going to let you do anything potentially dangerous on your own. Although, you’re not sure he could do anything in a ‘dangerous’ situation anyway. He may be physically giant, but he truly acted like a teddy bear.

You and Jisung sit in the backseat while the driver takes you to the house, and you’re flipping through a binder of papers while Jisung is on his phone.

“You know.” He pauses, waiting for your attention. “I stopped by your house last night.”

You turn to him and frown. “You did? How come I didn’t see you?”

“When I arrived, the staff said it would be best not to interrupt you at the time. They didn’t really say why, but I can only imagine. Either you and Chenle were in the process of murdering each other, or you guys are really going all in on the heir making.”

Your face heats up and you scratch your head. “I—I took your advice, is all. We’re kind of trying to figure things out, I think.”

“Uh huh. So the turtleneck isn’t a strategic move?”

“Park Jisung!” You push his shoulder. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“No, of course not.” He bites back his teasing grin. “I’m just saying, it’s good that you’re opening up to him. You guys are pretty much stuck together, so you should at least try to make the best of things.”

“But yes, we are certainly…making the best of things.” You grin to yourself and focus back on your binder.

“So, I can stop hearing your dad complain about no heir news soon?” He rolls his eyes. “That man is truly insufferable.”

You shake your head. “Can’t say the possibility is zero, but we used protection, so probably not. And yes, my father is insufferable. When he came over last time, he implied Chenle was impotent in front of both of his parents.”

“I’m shocked by both—why not try for pregnancy if you’re already sleeping together? And why would you not being pregnant after two months mean Chenle’s impotent?”

“You just live for drama, don’t you?” You quirk an eyebrow at him. “My husband would prefer to only have a family if it’s a real one. Meaning we would love each other. And I don’t question my father’s logic. I’m not sure how he got as far as he has in business when he lacks so much common sense. Like I’m a breeding mule or something.”

“Huh.” Jisung pauses and slumps back against his seat. “Aren’t you lucky?”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, Andy. None of this is short of hard work.”

Your driver opens the door, and before Jisung can respond, you’re stepping onto the sidewalk. The house in front of you is in a suburb, an exact replica of everything else around it. It’s not remarkable by any means. For someone making over half a million dollars every year, they sure do still live modestly.

“Don’t say a word,” you warn Jisung. “I’ll handle this.”

“Considering I have no idea what’s going on, I will happily let that happen.”

You stop at the front door, knocking three times. Standing completely rigid, you wait for anyone to answer. Once it opens, you’re confronted by a surprised woman. Her hair is long and black, reaching the center of her back. Brown eyes widen in shock.

“You can’t be here.” She moves to shut the door, but Jisung stops it over your shoulder.

“I’m—”

“You’re Chenle’s wife. I know who you are.” Her jaw tightens. “You need to go.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option. I’m here on company business, because apparently someone decided sending $143,000 a quarter to your bank account was acceptable. You can let me in, or we can make a spectacle out here. It’s your choice.”

The woman, who can’t be too far from your age, blinks through her frustration and opens the door wider for you to step inside. You do, and she gestures to the couch.

“Have a seat. I’ll grab us all some water.” She exits the room, and you and Jisung sit down on the couch.

Despite you being resilient in hiding your nerves from people, Jisung is able to read you like a book. “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Jisung warns you quietly. “You have no idea what’s going on.”

“Right. Only her being familiar enough with my husband to only use his first name. Not a big deal at all.” You clench your fists together.

“You said he had no idea about the payments.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t know her.” You shake your head. “He has no idea I’m here.”

Movement catches your attention, and you see eyes peeking around the corner. Your jaw drops before you can stop yourself, and then the small child steps into the open. You grasp onto Jisung’s sleeve, and those conclusions he told you not to jump to? Yeah, you dive into them.

“Who are you?” he asks. He can’t be more than four, and he looks achingly familiar.

“Jisung,” you whisper.

Jisung leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m Jisung. Who are you?”

“My name is Yichen.” He walks over and sits on the coffee table in front of you and your cousin. “I’m almost five.”

“Wow,” Jisung feigns surprise. “You’re getting so old.”

“That’s what my mommy says, too.” He scrunches up his face.

You’re struggling to breathe at this point, and that’s when Sujia decides to come back. She curses under her breath the second she recognizes her child in the room, and she quickly sets the glasses of water down before shooing him back up the stairs. You’re suddenly, painfully aware of Chenle telling you he’s been in love before. Of knowing there are women out there he’s wanted in the same way he’s sure he wants you.

“I think I’m going to puke,” you whisper to Jisung, careful not to let Sujia hear. “You don’t think…?”

Before Jisung can confirm or deny whether your suspicions are valid, Sujia sits across from you on the couch. The first thing you do is look for a ring on her finger, and when you don’t find one, you feel an unmistakable lump form in your throat.

“Why are you here?” she asks. “I’ve done everything I was supposed to. I haven’t told anyone anything, and my son and I are peacefully living far away from everything.”

“That’s the issue. I haven’t the faintest clue who you struck some sort of deal with for this money, nor do I know why. And if you want the payments to continue, you’ll tell me everything.”

“Is there something in specific you’d like to ask?” She frowns.

“What makes you say that?”

“You suddenly look like you’re ready to rip my throat out,” Sujia retorts.

“The child. Is he Chenle’s?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Sujia visibly recoils, eyes widening as she glances between you and Jisung. “You…Are you joking? Of course not. Chenle—dear God, Chenle’s my brother.”

You swear your life flashed before your eyes, and as you drop your head into your hands, you let out a shaky sigh of relief. Your heart still races, but it starts to slow at the news that your husband doesn’t have a secret child.

“I’m sorry, your brother?” Jisung asks. “I wasn’t aware Chenle had any siblings.”

“No one is. That’s why we’re receiving the payments.” She pauses, wetting her lips. “Chenle’s father—our father—met my mother many years ago. I see him quite often, and he’s aware he has a grandchild. I figured he never told Chenle, and this confirms my suspicions. Considering his parents never divorced, I can only assume it’s because she is also unaware.”

“He recently became aware of the payments.” Because of you. “And quite honestly, I don’t think this news will sit well with him.”

“Don’t.” Sujia shakes her head frantically. “Don’t tell him. We…We need that money, okay? And he has full power to take it away from us.”

“Do you know anything about him?” you ask her.

“Just what our father told me.”

“Chenle is exponentially kind. He’d never simply cut ties and leave you to struggle. It’s not like you lied to him by choice.” You take a deep breath and brush your skirt off. “He’s the best man I know. And for that reason, I could never intentionally keep this from him. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Sujia runs her tongue along her teeth.

“And on the off chance he doesn’t continue payments, I will personally make sure you’re okay.”

“You actually care about him.” She tilts her head at you.

“It’s hard not to care for someone like him.” You stand up. “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. And for thinking your child was my husband’s. Thank you for talking to me. Can we exchange numbers? I can keep you updated on how things go.”

You make haste of retrieving her number, and then you and Jisung leave the house. Once you're back in the car, you let out a long, pent up breath. You tug your fingers through your hair and curse quietly.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks.

“Honestly? I’m okay now that I know this isn’t Chenle’s fuck up.” You nod. “I think I need to pay his father a visit.”

“You’re going to confront…his father?”

“I’m going to confirm the story, obviously. And if it’s true, I’m going to tell him what an incredible fuck up he is.” You turn off the emotions switch, your face going stone cold. “Chenle looks up to that prick.”

When you arrive at his parents’ house, you’re greeted by staff and Chenle’s mother. Jisung opts to stay in the car, and his mother rushes to bring you further into the house.

“Ah, (Y/N), what a pleasant surprise.”

Not if she doesn’t know about the secret child.

“What brings you here?” she asks.

“Chenle requested I bring these files for his father. Is he here?” You smile at her.

“Of course. He’s in his office. It’s down the hall, all the way to the back on the right.” She pats your shoulder.

You bow your head to her in thanks, and then you make your way down the hall. Knocking once, you await his confirmation to walk in. He sits behind the giant desk, glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. You note a lot of Chenle’s features come from him, but you can’t believe how vastly different they truly are.

“(Y/N).” He leans back on his chair. “Was I expecting you?”

“No.” You approach him and drop the paper with her bank account information on it. “Liu Sujia.”

His eyes widen, barely noticeably, and he looks at you. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Did you think no one would notice payments that high to a random bank account? From the company?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. A bank account means nothing. You can’t even be sure I was the one facilitating such payments. Chenle has been CEO for years now, so it’s been under his nose, too—”

“I don’t need your excuses. Or your explanations. You’re not my father, and quite frankly, I don’t care about the state of your family.” You glare at the man in front of you. “But I also spoke with Ms. Liu. She has a child. Your grandson, and Chenle’s nephew. You think he doesn’t deserve to know?”

“If you don’t care about the state of my family, why are you doing this now?”

“Because I care about my family. And the second Chenle married me, he became part of it. And while you may not love your son, I do. I won’t let you lie to him.” The words fall right out without a second thought, and you fight the embarrassment of admitting your feelings to his father before Chenle.

“So, why come here? Why not go right to Chenle?”

“I’m sure he will have his own things to say to you later. I wanted the chance to let you know, objectively, what a selfish asshole you are. Your son idolizes you for the life you built for him. For showing him that a man can be loyal to a wife he may not love, if not for his child’s sake. But you weren’t. Everything he respects you for is a lie, and you’re despicable for being okay with that.”

“How dare you come into my home and talk to me this way?” His eyebrows furrow in anger, and he leans forward, but you don’t even flinch.

“I don’t fear you,” you hiss at him. “You are human, just like everyone else. If you deserve to be scolded like a child, I have no problem being the only one with enough balls to do it. If you lose Chenle because of this, I hope you lie in your fucking grave. I’ll pay people to dance on it.”

You turn your back on him, throwing the door open and stomping down the hallway before you give him the opportunity to say anything else. Sending a smile towards Chenle’s mother, you nod once at her before walking back outside to your car.

Gaining the courage to tell Chenle takes much longer than you’d like. You get back to your office, finding Chenle waiting for you. He smiles at you, one of his genuine, happy ones, and presses a quick kiss to your lips as you approach him.

“I never thought I’d find a time where the CEO’s not busy,” you tease him. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured we could take a break and go get some lunch.” He tugs you closer. “It’s been a long day, and all I want is to be with my wife. Is that so wrong?”

You purse your lips and tilt your head. “Wrong? No. Crazy? Maybe a smidge.”

“Wow, you just called me crazy. That hurt.” He chuckles.

“How about we just order something and eat it here?” you ask. “I have a bunch of stuff to do, but I would love for you to be with me.”

“Of course. What did you want to eat? I’ll tell the secretary to order it.”

“Whatever you’re thinking is good,” you tell him, leaning back on your desk. “I’m not too picky.”

“I’ll be right back.” He kisses your cheek, and when he closes the door behind him, you let out a sigh. It feels like you’re lying to him now, but you couldn’t drop something huge like that on him now.

Not when he was looking at you with such affection. What if you telling him this makes him hate you, too?

When he comes back, he sits across from you and rests his head on his palm. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” You frown at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just acting…different, I don’t know. Is this about last night? Did I do something wrong?” His forehead creases with worry, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“No, no, last night was good. I really liked last night.” You try to fight off the embarrassment at your words, but it doesn’t work very well. The tips of your ears burn.

“Okay.” He reaches across the desk and grabs your hand. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on. As long as I’m not the one making you feel that way, I can wait until you want to talk about it.”

“Chenle,” you whisper, squeezing him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you.” You glance down. “For not being what I expected.”

“I want to take care of you. Not because I think you can’t, but because I want to. I can be a safe space for you, and I’d never do anything to harm that image.”

You stand up and walk over to him, grabbing both of his hands. “I think I might be able to let you do that.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this.” He pulls you closer until you’re straddling his lap. “You amaze me every day.”

“We’re at work,” you scold him.

“I don’t see you trying to move,” he teases, palms exploring your back. “I was kinda sad we had to rush this morning. I would’ve loved to just lay there with you for as long as possible.”

You relax on top of him, fighting a smile as you study him closely. “I need to stop wearing lipstick.”

“Why?” he asks. “Do you wanna kiss me again?”

“I want to kiss you a lot.” You nod.

“I can wipe lipstick off.”

“What if mine gets smudged?”

“Tell people to mind their business. We’re newlyweds.” He watches your expression as his hands dip down to grip your ass through your dress. “I think the newlywed era started yesterday. Because all I want to do is be with you. All over you. Inside you.”

“Jesus Christ, Chenle.” You smack his chest. “Composure.”

He grins. “C’mon. You were thinking it, too.”

“We certainly can’t do it here,” you tell him.

“It’s my building.”

You give him a pointed look. “I’m trying to get your employees to respect me. They won’t if they think I’m here simply because I let you screw me on the desk.”

“I gave you the position before I ever even slept with you.”

“They don’t know that.” You roll your eyes and clamber off his lap. “There actually is something I wanted to talk to you about later at home. Are you leaving at a decent time?”

“I figured we’d leave together whenever you were done. If that’s okay.” Chenle clasps his hands together in his lap.

“Perfect.”

Before you do anything else with him, you need to tell him about his father. You just hope you don’t lose your husband in the process.

You bring the binder home with you. On the car ride home, you loop your arm through Chenle’s and rest your head on his shoulder. He can sense your nervous energy and tries to soothe you with a kiss to your head. You and Chenle go upstairs, and you sit on the edge of the bed. He follows suit despite your nerves transferring into him the longer you stay silent.

“I wanted to talk to you about that charge we found.” You put your hand on his knee. “And it’s a lot, okay? So I just want you to listen to me.”

He frowns but nods in response.

“Jeno and Jisung helped me with it. Jeno found out the account belonged to a woman, and there was an address associated with it. Jisung went with me to the house, and when we got there, I met with the woman.” You pause and scratch the top of your head. “She has a little boy. He’s almost five. And to be honest, it was a possibility in my head that you might’ve…I don’t know, accidentally fathered a child, but thankfully, it wasn’t that.”

“(Y/N), who is she?”

“She’s your sister. Your half-sister, I guess.” You gulp, refusing to make eye contact with him. “And the little boy is your nephew.”

“Oh.” His voice shakes uncharacteristically, and he inhales.

“Your dad has been paying her and her mother off for years so you and your mother didn’t find out.” You close your eyes. “And she begged me not to tell you because she’s scared she’ll stop receiving her money. Which I get, honestly, but I couldn’t keep this from you. Not when I know how—”

“(Y/N), please. I need a second.” He drops his head in his palms. His jaw tightens, and he angles his gaze to the ceiling.

“Come here,” you murmur, opening your arms for him. Immediately, he melts into your grasp, resting on your chest as you stroke the top of his head. “I’m so sorry.”

He grasps the fabric of your dress in his fist as he uses you to ground himself. “The whole time I admired him for being better, he just fucking sucked?”

You can’t tell if it’s anger or sadness that makes his voice shake.

“You’re sure?”

You nod. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he tells you. “You didn’t do this.”

“No, I didn’t, but I love you, Chenle. I hate seeing you like this.” You and Chenle both tense up. He lifts his head to look at you, and your heart nearly shatters at the welled up tears in his eyes. You keep looking at him, more than nervous for his response.

“What?” His voice is hoarse, almost like it’s caught in his throat. “What did you say?”

“It’s not important right now, okay? I wasn’t thinking.” Your own tears form, and you try your best to blink them away. “No thinking, just feeling didn’t really work in this situation, huh?”

“You love me?” He cups your cheek and turns you to him. “Do you mean that?”

“Are you kidding me?” You scoff. “Of course, I do.”

You shouldn’t have done that now, given how overwhelmed he is, but it truly slipped out. He stares at you in shock, and when he parts his lips, a tear slips down his cheek. You shake your head, reaching forward and wiping it away with your thumb.

“Don’t cry,” you say. “This is all so much, I shouldn’t have dropped that on you like this, I’m so sorry—”

“Stop apologizing. Please.”

“I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“Darling, at this point, you’re the only one who hasn’t.” He rests his forehead on yours. “And you…you loving me makes all of this worth it. Nobody has that power over me when I have you by my side.”

“I do. I love you.” You sniffle and hold him tighter.

“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you walk into the room. I love you when you’re a thousand steps ahead of me, and I love you when you’re walking my pace. All the time, without fail and without reprieve.”

Every bit of oxygen is stolen right from your lungs, and all you want to do is scream and cry and punch his father in the face. Such a pathetic man doesn’t deserve a son like Chenle.

“Zhong Chenle, you’ve broken me in all the best ways. That terrible wall, the shell around my heart…I don’t want to face the world alone anymore. I need you with me.” You rub your thumbs along his cheeks, swiping up the next couple tears that fall.

“I will be better than my father. Than yours. We’ll do this the right way, okay?” He inhales sharply.

“I don’t doubt that one bit.” You lean forward and kiss his forehead. “What are you thinking? What do you want to do about all of this?”

“I’d like to meet her. My sister. And my nephew.” He chews the inside of his cheek. “She won’t have to worry about money. We’ll have to stop paying her through the company, but it’ll come out of our personal account. If that’s alright with you.”

“Somehow, I had a feeling you’d say that. Of course, that’s okay with me.”

“Can you set that up please?” he asks softly. “I honestly don’t know how, and she already knows you so…”

“You don’t have to explain. I’ll do it.” You run your fingers through his hair. “You’re the bravest person I know. Not everyone would handle it the way you are.”

“We’ll figure this out, yeah?”

“Between the two of us, there’s not a problem in this world we couldn’t solve.” You kiss the tip of his nose and stand from the bed, holding your hand out to him.

“What?”

“I was thinking we could take a bath. Help each other relax.”

He gives you a tired smile and nods. “That sounds amazing.”

You start the water and put a more-than-appropriate amount of the bubble bath liquid in it. Tying your hair up to prevent it from getting wet, you smile to yourself when you feel Chenle’s hands on your waist.

“Need some help getting this off?” He tugs on your dress.

“I might need help with everything,” you hum, letting your eyes flutter shut as he unzips your dress.

Once it's thrown across the room, you unbutton Chenle’s shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. Soon enough, both of you are beneath water and bubbles, and his arms are locked firmly around your waist. You rest against his chest, allowing the lavender scent to soothe your stress.

“Y’know what we’re missing?” you mumble. “Champagne.”

“I can have someone bring it to us. Just say the word.” He kisses your temple.

You shake your head. “We’re naked.”

“They’re professionals.” He laughs and squeezes you. “And I can have them leave it in the bedroom.”

“Right, and make sure there’s a heart made out of flower petals on the bed.” You roll your eyes.

“You can have anything you desire, (Y/N). You’re my wife. The sky’s truly the limit.” He explores your skin out of curiosity, mapping his way around your body.

You sit up and look over your shoulder at him. “You know what I want?”

He raises his eyebrows in response.

“I want it all.” You grab his hand. “I want you. The good days and the bad ones. Whatever trial comes our way, I want us to figure it out together.”

“Do you…Do you actually want children? Or is that something you feel like you have to do?” he asks.

“Honestly, I don’t know. There was a brief moment when I met Sujia and Yichen that I thought…I thought that he could’ve been yours. I mean, he looks like you a little bit, but he’s your nephew so that’s not weird. When that became a possibility in my head, it hurt. Stung, is more like it. I guess I figured that any children you’d have would be mine as well, and to think there were others you might have—”

“Darling,” he coos, tightening his grip on you. “I promise you, I do not have any secret children. Nor will I ever. You will be very, very aware of any child I have. I don’t want them if it’s not with you.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“That’s good.” You nod and lean back against him once more. “We have time to think about it, right?”

“Take as much time as you need.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You hesitated to have Chenle meet Sujia so quickly. A week passes before you consider reaching out to her, and you know Chenle is waiting for it. She has to be too, at this point, probably worried about whether or not her money supply was going to be cut off. He has yet to confront his father, but you assume that will come with time. For now, you’re curled up next to him in bed, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. Finally, it’s a rest day for you both, and you get to spend the whole day with him uninterrupted.

His fingers run through your hair, a deep breath passing by his lips. “Darling.”

“Hm?” You move closer to him, burying your head in his neck.

“Kiss me?”

You don’t hesitate to do as he asks, humming against his lips as the two of you connect. He shifts to his side to get closer to you, his hand trailing from your hip, down your leg, until he finds the back of your knee. Pulling your leg over his waist, he shuffles closer to you, pressing his body to yours.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, smiling.

“Loving you,” he replies easily, sliding his hand back up to your ass. The thin fabric of your shorts does little to hide the sensation of him squeezing you. You don’t mean to gasp, but you attempt to distract him by tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Tell me what you want.” You pull back to get a good look at him.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he admits. “How fucking good you made me feel.”

“More.”

“You’ve been telling me you love me for a week now and I haven’t been able to hear it when I’m inside you. God, I never thought I’d be like this. It’s only been a week.” He squeezes you harder, pushing his hard length against you.

As he grinds himself slowly into your core, you curse and wrap your arms around him. “Why did you wait this long?” you ask him breathlessly.

“Didn’t wanna push you.” He kisses along your neck, nipping wherever he can reach. “Don’t want you to think this is all I want. Fucking been hard all day, darling. Every time you walked into the fucking room all week, instantly ready to bend you over.”

Your body shudders as you process his words. “Why don’t you lay back? Let me take care of you.”

“I need you so bad,” he groans. “I could cum just hearing you talk like that.”

You push him onto his back and quickly straddle him. Rolling your hips, you curse under your breath as you feel his hard length against your clit.

“Chenle,” you mutter, trailing your hands beneath his shirt. “Do you prefer ass or tits?”

“That’s an odd question.”

“You won’t regret answering.”

“Ass.”

“Perfect. Do you have a condom?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“They’re in the bedside table—darling, I didn’t prep you yet—”

“You’re not the only one who’s needy,” you interrupt him, quickly moving to grab one of the wrappers. Before you climb on top of him again, you kiss his cheek. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, my love. You don’t have to ask.”

You shove your shorts and panties down, and as you pull at his sweats and boxers, his fists clench at his sides. His length smacks against his stomach, and he wraps his fingers around himself to relieve some of the ache. You didn’t get to see it much the first time, but you take a second to appreciate just how fucking pretty he is. He’s so hard, it’s probably starting to hurt.

He runs his thumb over the tip and gasps. “Baby, please.”

You waste no more time in getting the condom on him, and then you straddle his lap again, but backwards this time. As you quickly sink down on his length, taking him all the way inside, he moans loudly.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He drags his nails down your back until he reaches your ass, and then he grips you tightly with both hands. “You needed me, too, huh? Dripping all over me when I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You brace yourself on the mattress between his legs, and set a fast, steady pace. He moans every time you sink all the way down, and your fingers curl into the sheets. You easily ignore the ache beginning in your thighs when you listen to him and how good you’re making him feel. He spurs you on, his moans slowly turning to higher pitched whines.

“Can we—fuck, can we try something?” Chenle asks, gripping your hips to hold you still.

“Whatever you need.” You shakily lift yourself off of him, and he quickly moves from below you. He removes his shirt before aiding you in doing the same.

He guides you to arch your back, your face pressed into the mattress as your walls clench around nothing. His tip catches on your clit, and your body jolts, but you grip onto the sheets instead.

“Gonna fuck you good, darling. Wanna hear you the whole time, got it?” His voice sends needles of pleasure pricking into your spine, and you know you can ignore everything else once he’s buried inside you.

“Yes.” You nod. Your fingers curl into the sheets as he slides in. The angle has you seeing stars, and your mouth falls open at the sensation.

His hands squeeze your ass as he starts slowly, the rub of him against your walls making your legs tremble already. You worry briefly about being too distracted, but as reaches around you to put his hand between your legs, all thoughts besides the way he feels completely obliterate. He rubs your clit in pace with his thrusts, his breathing uneven as he works your body as if he’s touched you for years. You barely recognize yourself when your moans slip past your lips. You’ve never let go like this before, and through your daze, you push yourself back against him. He tentatively smacks your ass, light enough to make you crave the contact. You can’t breathe as you curse.

“Again,” you whine, your entire being on the brink of collapse. “More.”

“Earn it, baby,” he commands. “You know what I want to hear.���

You let out a shuddering breath as his tip nudges that spot inside you. “Fuck, I love you. I need more.”

He smacks you harder this time, and the loud, needy moan that pours from your lips gets distorted by the way he starts to slam his hips against you. His fingers speed up on your clit, and you’re already teetering on the edge. Sounds of your arousal emanate around the room, mixing with both of your moans. His skin clapping against yours has every muscle in your body craving the release you know is so, so close.

As your high smashes into you like a tidal wave, the pleasure is so overwhelming, you cry out and clench onto the sheets. Chenle curses as his thrusts begin to falter, but you barely hear him. You’re much too sensitive, and you whimper as his fingers still work your bud. Without warning, he pulls out of you. You whine at the loss, attempting to push back, but he grips your hips and flips you onto your back. Gasping at the sudden movement, you grab for him as he climbs over you.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“I need to see you, darling.” He inhales sharply as he pushes back inside you. “And kiss you.”

His lips connect with yours as he keeps his steady pace. His chest rubs yours, the heat almost unbearable as your tongues fight for dominance. A groan slipping out of his mouth interrupts your kiss, and next thing you know, he’s as deep as he can get, panting against your collarbone.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“Me too,” you reply, breathless as you run your fingers through his hair. “I love you, too.”

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He peppers kisses anywhere he can reach—your neck, your chest, your shoulders.

You shake your head. “No, I’m just a little surprised. You can tell me when you want me, you know. You don’t have to wait for me to initiate.”

“It’s been…an interesting week, you know?” He pulls out of you, kissing you softly one last time before he goes into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. When he comes back, he lays down on top of you again. “I came twice.”

You recoil, angling your head to look at him. “Just now?”

“Yep. Came when you were on top of me, too,” he hums in content. “And I’ll have you know that’s never happened to me before.”

“Had someone on top of you or finished twice?”

“The second one.” He pauses. “But I—”

“You don’t have to explain.” You snort. “I have a past, too.”

“That’s good. Don’t wanna move,” he mumbles, pushing his head further into your neck.

You laugh. “Don’t, then.”

Chenle falls asleep fairly quickly, and you kiss his forehead before wiggling out from under him. You grab a new pair of panties and slide them on before grabbing one of his button-downs. It’s much too late for any of the staff to be out and about, so you grab your phone and head to the kitchen. When you look at the screen, the worry settles back in the pit of your stomach. Sujia had texted you forty-five minutes ago, asking you for an update on the situation. After a week, you think Chenle has probably had at least a little bit of time to come to terms with everything. You text her back to let her know Chenle wants to meet her, and then you get your water. You don’t want Chenle to ever feel hurt like that again, but it’s not going to just disappear. You know better than that. But it doesn’t change how seeing him so upset broke you to pieces, too. If you could, you’d ruin anything that even tried.

He was right all along.

Being in love doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It makes you stronger. Gives you a purpose other than what is required of you when you’re from certain bloodlines. From the beginning, you were sure Chenle would never—could never—mean anything to you, and even though he told you otherwise, you had to find out for yourself. You’d start wars for him. You’d do anything to make sure he was okay, because at the end of the day, he truly is the only person to love you without conditions involved. He cares for you not because he has to, not because he’s forced to, but because he wants to. Because he chooses to. You refill the glass for Chenle and head back upstairs. When you open the door, he stirs, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he turns and sits up.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair.

“Water.” You hold the glass up and set it next to him on the bedside table. Standing at the edge of the bed, you look at him, unable to fight the small smile forming.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“You’re just…” You chuckle and shake your head. “Shut up. You’re just really cute like this.”

He holds his arm out to you. “Pinch me. I’m pretty sure I’m still dreaming.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious.” You smack at his wrist.

He tugs gently on the bottom hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “I like this on you.”

“It was the first thing I found.” Embarrassment climbs through you. “Sorry, I should’ve asked.”

“What part of that sounded like I wanted you to ask?” He snorts. “You’re always welcome to anything here. You should know that by now. But you’ve been away from me for way too long. C’mere.”

He opens his arms for you, and you chuckle and climb into bed next to him. When he lays on his side, he tugs you to follow suit. You listen to him, staring into his eyes while his thumb rubs on your hip through the white fabric.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“For trying with me. Not running away. Letting me love you. The list is honestly endless.” He kisses your forehead. “Not to mention I really would’ve fucking lost my mind with all of that stuff last week if you hadn’t been there.”

“Speaking of.” You shuffle closer to him. “She wants to meet you. And I really think you should do it, because at the end of the day, she’s your sister, you know?”

Chenle hesitates, thousands of emotions crossing through his gaze like a storm. “You’re right. You can set it up for whenever, and I’ll be there.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Chenle.” You intertwine your fingers with his. “And I want you to know that, no matter how you’re feeling, you can tell me. I want to help you process.”

“I’ll be okay, darling. Truly. It’ll just take some time getting used to it. I do think it’ll be nice to have a sibling, although she’ll probably hate me for…I don’t know. Being legitimate?”

You laugh, burying your head in his neck. “You’re not taking her money away, so I doubt she’ll hate you.”

He hums quietly, sleep still heavy in his voice as he pulls you flush against him. “I shouldn’t be able to love you this much yet. Slow down, would you?”

“You, of all people, should know that those words do not exist in my vocabulary.” You close your eyes and breathe him in. “I love you, too.”

Sujia sets the day for the upcoming Saturday, and so while the days pass, you witness Chenle slowly lose his mind. He’s not upset at Sujia at all, but he obviously is with his father. It’s an incredibly large secret to keep from your family, so he has every right to those feelings. The entire car ride to her house, he’s squeezing your hand so hard, you fear he’ll cut the circulation off. His leg bounces restlessly, and the frown hasn’t left his face once today. The driver opens the door, and you get out first to at least attempt to lessen your husband’s nerves. You’re unfortunately aware of the straggle of photographers waiting for the two of you. While you’re not sure how they found out about this, you’re not worried about them in the slightest.

Once Chenle’s on his feet, you loop your arm in his. “Be calm. There are cameras, so at least wait until we get inside to freak out.” “Yes, ma’am.” He sends you a sly grin. The two of you approach the door, and you knock. Sujia opens the door quickly, ushering the two of you inside to prevent herself from being seen. Chenle removes his sunglasses, and you take them from him to put in your purse.

“(Y/N), it’s nice to see you again,” Sujia greets you. You nod at her. “Likewise.” “Chenle, you’re a little more intimidating in person.” She clasps her hands together. “Are you guys thirsty? I’ll get some water.” “Actually,” you say, patting Chenle’s arm. “Why don’t you two get your sibling introductions out of the way, and I’ll just play with Yichen. He’s my nephew, too, after all. And I’m pretty sure I scared him last time.” The two of them both flounder for words, neither of them wanting to be without you in a moment like this.

“It’ll be okay. Seriously. Neither of you bite, and Sujia, he’s actually really sweet. He just looks like he hates everything.” “As you can see, my wife is my biggest fan.” He presses his lips into a thin line as he fakes a glare. “Anyway.” You smile at Sujia. “I assume the child is upstairs?” “Yes, but if you want him to not be scared of you, you may want to refer to him by his name or something other than ‘the child.’” She scratches the top of her head.

“God, there is so much I could learn from you.” You separate from Chenle’s side and head for the stairs. Much to your pleasant surprise, your nephew…in-law? is already stomping down the stairs. “Oh.” The kid purses his lips. “You’re back.” “I am.” You nod and scrunch your nose up. “I figured while your mommy talks to my husband, we could…I don’t know. Play a game or something? Do kids do that?” “You’re weird.” Yichen grimaces. “But you’re nicer this time than you were last time. So yeah, we can play with the Switch.” You don’t end up actually playing, but you do watch Yichen’s game with interest. Leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, you analyze the process he uses when he plays every round.

“You’re smart,” you comment. “My mommy tells me that, too.” He nods, seemingly unaffected by your compliment. You pause for a moment. “Does your mom…compliment you a lot?” “Uh, I don’t know.” Yichen doesn’t start the next round, but turns to look at you. “Does your mommy compliment you a lot?” You laugh. “Yeah, no. Definitely not." “Are you—”

“Yichen,” Sujia calls out. “Can you turn the game off please? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Without a second thought, he turns the Switch off and yells to his mom to tell her he’s ready. He sits next to you on the couch, folding his hands together in his lap. You’ve met a lot of children in your day, but you never imagined one could be so well-behaved. You see the panicked look on Chenle’s face as he walks in. A laugh almost erupts from you, but you hold it back. The man is meeting his nephew for the first time and can’t seem to shake the nerves away. You can only imagine what it’ll be like when he meets his own child. You tense the second that thought crosses your mind.

When?

A legitimate chill runs down your spine, and then you realize how close Chenle has gotten. He squats down in front of Yichen, and Sujia leans against the archway into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Chenle starts. “I’m your uncle. And you’re my nephew.” “Oh, wow.” You really didn’t think it could get any worse than you. “Do you know her?” Yichen nods his head towards you. Chenle smiles. “Yeah. That’s my wife. So that makes her your aunt.” “She said her mommy doesn’t compliment her.” His eyes widen. “Is she a bad person?” Your husband lets out an exaggerated gasp. “No way. She’s the best person I know.” “How?” “Well, she told me about you and your mommy when nobody else did. She’s really, really smart and, c’mon, she’s gorgeous. What else could I want in a wife?” Chenle grins, sending a quick glance your way. “I guess you’re right.” Yichen shrugs. “Do you wanna play a game with me?” “Absolutely.” He nods in response. You stand to give Chenle room, touching his shoulder lightly as you go to stand by Sujia. Leaning on the wall next to her, you quickly realize attempting to take your eyes off of your husband is futile. “He likes kids, huh?” Sujia asks. “He really likes family,” you reply.

“Do you want children?” “Oh.” You chuckle to yourself and fold your arms over your chest. “I’m not sure. But we…don’t really have a choice. We signed a contract and heirs are part of the deal.” “I’m sorry, but I really don’t envy you,” she tells you. “At the end of the day, it’s not that bad, though.” “So, you and Chenle actually love each other.” She hums, tapping her foot. “I feel like that’s rare for people in your positions.” “It is,” you agree. “And honestly, had it been up to me at the beginning, we wouldn’t even be…friendly. We’d be tolerating each other.” "Wow, he fought for you.” Humor laces in Sujia’s voice. “Well, I told him that I’d rather tolerate him than learn one day that I might hate him instead. He was entirely right when he said it wasn’t the hate I was scared of. It was love. Of relying on someone else.” “At least you can rest assured that he would be a good father.”

You don’t respond for a moment, watching Chenle interact with his nephew. They must win something in the game, because they dramatically high five each other. The smile on Chenle’s face is wide, and your heart flutters as a result.

“Yeah.” You fight your own grin. “Yeah, he really will.”

You and Chenle are at Sujia’s for hours. It’s clear the two of them are similar, and thankfully, your husband seems to enjoy having a family member other than the ones who have disappointed him. Yichen warms up to you both, and by the time you’re leaving, he’s hugging you both goodbye and asking when you’ll be back. Chenle is still smiling as he leads you back to the car.

“That went a lot better than you thought, huh?” You ask as he helps you into the backseat.

“I don’t know what I thought.” He shakes his head. “But it’s cool not to be an only child. Even if it’s unconventional, you know? And that little kid is freakin’ cool.”

You lean on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re making the best out of this situation.”

“Actually, do you mind if we make one more stop?”

“Of course not. Where to?”

“I think it’s time I had a conversation with my father.” He pats your leg. “And I could really use your support.”

“Chenle.” You tilt your head at him. “If you don’t know by now that I would follow you anywhere, you’re not as smart as I originally thought. We may have to reconsider this whole thing.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth, holding back his laugh. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that contract is pretty air tight.”

“Damn.” You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

“The luckiest.” He lifts your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “Can’t even joke about that one.”

Chenle isn’t even nervous as the two of you approach his father’s office. He grips your hand tightly, but his resolve has never been stronger. Despite him doing this on his own, you feel an odd swell of pride deep in your chest. You’re so proud of the man he’s always been, and how he only ever wants to be better. His father already knows what’s going on the second he sees you both. At that point, Chenle releases your hand and drops his folder on the desk.

“What’s this?” his father inquires.

“A lawsuit,” Chenle replies nonchalantly.

You almost gasp in shock. And while you shouldn’t be enjoying the awkward tinge in the atmosphere, you feel like you need a bag of popcorn right now.

“I’m sorry?” He recoils in shock.

“You seem to forget that when I became CEO, you no longer had any claim to the company’s profits. And if I did my math correctly, which I did, $143,000 a quarter is roughly $572,000 a year, which is a grand total of $2,288,000 from the four years I’ve been seated in the CEO position.”

“Chenle, you have no right—”

“You don’t tell me what I have the right to do, actually.” Chenle buttons up his suit jacket. “So, you’ll be paying me back the money you owe me. That you stole from me to protect your little secret from getting out. But that must really suck, because you actually delivered a handwritten apology letter to Sujia and to your wife and your mistress and me and the employees at the company that’ll be announced in about ten minutes. To the whole world.”

“Your mother cannot know about this. Whatever you’ve done, you reverse it immediately.” The angry expression on his face does nothing but make Chenle grin.

“Your secret’s out, Dad. Crazy how you had two children and never learned how to be an actual father.” Chenle brushes himself out and points at the folder on the desk. “I’d read that. You might wanna think twice before fighting it.”

“You’ll understand one day,” his father replies. “There’s more to life than marriage, and it’s only a matter of time before you—”

“I will never be like you.” The smile immediately falls from his face. “I love my wife, and I’m not a fucking coward. I don’t need a second family because the first one wasn’t good enough for me. This is the last time you’ll hear from me. And you won’t be receiving any money from my company again. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” 

Your heart pounds in your chest, your lips parted in shock as you realize what’s happening. Your husband turns his back on his father, gently holds out his hand to you, and shoots one last ice cold glare over his shoulder as he leads you out of the room.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you laugh in disbelief. “Chenle, holy shit.”

“Dude, my adrenaline is fucking crazy right now.” He chuckles and blows out a deep breath. “That was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done in my life.”

“This might be terrible to say, but I am…so attracted to you right now.” You blush as you squeeze his arm.

“So, nothing but good things today.” He helps you into the car.

Once he shuts the door behind him, you climb onto his lap and kiss him. He groans in surprise, his hands immediately finding their place on your ass.

“What? You like when I put people in their places?” he teases you, leaning forward to barely brush his lips on yours.

“There were a lot of things I liked from today.” You unbutton the first button on his shirt. “It was…very hot of you to absolutely destroy a man like that. You held your ground and…I don’t know. The tone of your voice was sexy.”

“My God, am I learning things about you today.”

“If it helps you, I’m also learning things about myself, so.”

“Mm, please tell me what else you’ve got hidden up your sleeve.” He squeezes your ass gently, pushing you closer so you feel him hardening in his pants.

“I think…we should throw every single condom away. Permanently. We’ll have an endless amount of babies for you to play games with. Of course, you’ll also have to tell them I’m gorgeous, but—”

“You’re serious.” His jaw drops, hope sparking behind his eyes. “Darling, you better not be joking about something like that.”

You shake your head. “I’m not joking. You were on to something when you said you wanted everything. A real life, a real love, a real family. Why don’t we have it all?”

“Right now? You want kids now?”

“If we’re gonna have twenty, we really have to start now, otherwise I’m gonna be too old—”

He cuts you off with an earth-shattering kiss as he pulls you flush against him. His fingers tangle in your hair, and you giggle into his mouth. The only thing that separates the two of you is the door opening.You gasp and climb off his lap, clearing your throat and fanning your cheeks from the embarrassment of getting caught. Your husband grips your hand and pulls you towards the house, and you can’t stop the profuse laughter escaping you as he apparently decides you’re walking too slowly and hoists you over his shoulder.

“Oh my God, Chenle, put me down.” You can barely speak through your laughs.

He only listens to you once the two of you are inside and he’s able to set you on the kitchen island.

“If you’re doubting it even a little bit, darling, you’d better tell me now.” He kisses down your neck. “Because I don’t care how fucking long it takes, we’re not stopping tonight until I get you pregnant.”

“You’re crazy.” You push his shoulder. “You have no way of knowing if you’ll—”

“Baby, don’t ruin my fun. Tell me if you really want this.”

“I do, Chenle.” You cup his cheeks, smiling at him. “I want it with you. They all need to look like you. I want at least one boy and one girl, and they’ll be best friends because—”

He kisses you again, groaning as he slides his hand beneath the skirt of your dress. “Keep talking.”

“Um, I just really think you’d be a good dad,” you say, lifting your hips so he can pull your panties down. “And, uh, you’ve proven how much family means to you, so it makes me feel safe. I—shit.”

He presses two fingers to your clit, and your body jolts. Chuckling, he traces along your pulse with his lips. “How are you so wet already?”

“Well.” You let out another breathless laugh as you grind your hips to match his pace. “It so helps that my husband is the hottest fucking man in this universe.”

“You think so highly of me,” he hums, teeth grazing your ear lobe.

“You’re cruel for this, you know.” You rock upward, and your head lolls forward. “Teasing after you clearly feel how badly I want you is just…so rude.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me.” He moves down to your entrance and thrusts two of his fingers inside you.

You cry out, holding onto his shoulders. With a frustrated groan, you push his jacket off of him. He curls his fingers and pumps faster, thumb returning to your clit.

“Fuck, Chenle, wait.” You smack at his wrist. Even though you don’t want him to stop, you want more. He stops immediately, pulling back to look at you.

“What? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay.” You kiss him hard. “I need you inside me right fucking now.”

“First of all, you just scared me.” He tsks as he unbuttons his pants. “You need my cock so bad you can’t fucking take what I give you?”

Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. You shudder at his tone, shuffling closer to the edge of the counter. He pushes his pants and boxers down to the middle of his thighs, and your mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s hard, tip leaking precum as he spreads your legs further. The fabric of your skirt prevents him from having enough room, and the dark look in his eyes sends another burst of wetness to your core.

“Love how these skirts look on you but fucking hate how I can’t fuck you in it.” He taps your hip, and you lift yourself up so he can unzip it and tug it down quickly.

You barely even pay attention to what his doing when he pulls your ankles up to the edge of the counter and spreads your thighs apart until they begin to ache.

“Now, isn’t that a fucking view.” He wets his lips as he wraps his fingers around his cock. Thrusting into his fist a couple times, he uses his other hand to tease your clit.

“Chenle, please.” You gasp, tugging him closer.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby, I can see it.” He drags his tip along your entrance, pushing in just enough to watch the head of his cock stretch you open. He’s entranced by the way you take him so easily, his eyes focused on where the two of you connect.

Your pleasure intensifies simply by watching him so drunk on you, just appreciating the way you take him. You feel every vein in your body buzzing, and you can’t help it but to push your hand between your legs and rub your throbbing bud while he’s entranced.

“You have no fucking patience,” he hisses, grabbing your wrist and pushing it away. You whine at the loss, but his glare stops you. “I’m trying to enjoy my wife’s pussy, but she’s just so fucking needy, isn’t she?”

“Oh, God.” You grip onto the edge of the counter.

“Watch how easily you take me.” He flicks your clit. “Look.”

You let your gaze travel downward until you see his cock positioned outside your hole. Instantly, the room gets much hotter. You struggle to breathe, anticipating the stretch he gives you. His tip is covered in your arousal, but the rest of his cock has yet to feel you.

“Fuck me, Chenle,” you mutter almost incoherently. “I wanna watch.”

He finally obliges, nudging the tip between your folds again before sinking inside. He moves so slowly, you want to cry. You need more, and the stretch wreaks havoc on you when you’re watching. Every time he’d fill you up another inch, he’d pull out until his tip is barely caught inside you, and then sink in just one more inch. You’re losing your fucking mind, but you can’t take your eyes away from where he pleasures you. Finally, he bottoms out, the position of your thighs allowing him to press all the way against you, his pelvis hitting your overly sensitive clit.

“Are you ready?” he asks. “I need to fuck you.”

“You know I’m ready,” you reply, dazed from the pleasure of him seated so deeply in you.

He starts a steady pace, both of you still staring at the way you stretch to accommodate him.

“You feel so fucking good like this, darling.” He thrusts harder. “Nothing between us this time.”

You cry out when his tip hits your cervix. Your legs start to shake from how far they’re spread, but all you’re focusing on is the way your arousal shines on his cock when he’s pulling out of you. You feel every inch of him, and the way he rubs against your walls is so different without the condom. You’re fucking delirious, and every time he presses all the way inside you, the pressure on your clit has you getting closer and closer.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, baby,” he groans, moving his hand down between the two of you quickly. His thumb glides over your most sensitive area, and you can no longer hold back your sounds.

“Fuck,” you cry out, legs shaking as your orgasm lingers so, so close.

“Cum for me.” He slams into you. “Not gonna fill you up ‘til you cum, darling.”

You tip and tilt over the edge, convulsing as your high hits you hard. Chenle keeps rubbing you, thrusts picking up speed as he fucks you through your euphoria. He crashes his lips to yours as he spurts inside you, covering your inner walls with white as he pants. Your whole body shakes as you hold onto him tightly. Both of you are covered in sweat, but it does little to bother either of you.

“How does it keep getting better?” you ask. “You have that effect on me.” He shrugs, chuckling as he guides your legs around his waist. “And I wasn’t kidding. We’re not done yet.” “My insides are gonna be mush.” “What if I’m gentle next time?” He kisses along your neck. “If I fuck you with your legs up, apparently it’s more likely to happen that way.” “Insatiable.” You pull back to kiss his lips. “You’re lucky I am, too. Take me upstairs.”

You don’t make it all the way upstairs. Not at first. He decides he has to take you on the couch, up against the wall next to the staircase, the desk in his office, and then your bed. By the end of the night, you’re absolutely exhausted, but you’ve never felt so fucking good in your life. And for someone who thought you could never have it all, you realize just how damn close you are to having a perfect life when you have Chenle by your side.

[daniiwrites]

Ties That Bind - Chapter 2

Pairing: Aaron Pierre and OC, Jade Laurent

Warnings: Minors DNI. Language. Hints of smut.

Summary: Now that the cat is out of the bag, Jade and Aaron begin to get to know one another, to see if there's more there than they initially believed.

Rebuilding my tag list, so please let me know if you'd like to be added.

Chapter 2: 

“What do you mean pregnant?? How the fuck is she pregnant?”

Aaron sighed softly as he looked over at Kelvin, slight irritation etched into his feline like features. His friend paced back and forth in front of him, seeming more upset about the news than Aaron himself.

“Did your parents not tell you how babies are made, Kel?”

“I mean, y’all didn’t use a condom?”

“Used quite a few of them. Guess one didn’t hold up. I don’t know. That night got pretty wild.”

“How do you know the baby is even yours? Are you gonna ask her for a DNA test?”

“It’s mine, Kel. She’s not like that. Hell, she didn’t even care that I’m an actor. And lets be real, it’s not like I’m rolling in money.” “Yet,” he corrected, shooting Aaron a pointed look.

“You’re right. Yet.”

Aaron cleared his throat before taking another sip of the whiskey Kelvin had poured him immediately after hearing that he was soon to become a father.

“She comes from a good family. She doesn’t need money from me. Her dad is Vincent Laurent.”

Kelvin narrowed his eyes as he wracked his brain for why that name sounded familiar. 

“The real estate guy?”

“Mmhmm…”

“Damn. How’d you meet her again?” 

“That afterparty in December… She’s friends with my stunt double and he invited her to the premiere.”

“How do you know it’s not his kid?”

“Cause I was the one who was all over her that night.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Aaron shrugged, taking another small sip of whiskey.

“Tell my parents… hope they aren’t too disappointed. Be a dad. I mean, honestly, what am I supposed to do? Stick my head in the sand and act like this isn’t happening? I can’t do that… My kid doesn’t deserve that and neither does she.”

“Have you told your team yet?”

“Absolutely not. Hell, I’ve only had a couple of days to wrap my head around it.”

“You are… startlingly calm about this. I would be losing my shit if some girl told me she was pregnant with my kid.”

“I’m still processing it. I wanted more from her before I found out about the baby. Despite the circumstances surrounding me getting her pregnant, I was actually interested in her that night. Very much so. And I am kind of excited. I’ve always wanted kids. Between the two of us, we can definitely afford to take care of a kid. And of all the women I could have gotten pregnant, at least I picked one who’s gorgeous and smart as hell. You know she went to Howard and got her masters from Cambridge? My baby’s gonna be a little genius.”

Kelvin snickered, shaking his head as he looked over at his friend.

“Well, you seem determined to do this, so, I got your back.”

“Appreciate that.”

—

They really should call morning sickness all fucking day sickness. Jade had been in the bathroom of her office puking for the last half hour. There was nothing left in her stomach and she was exhausted. She dragged herself up from the toilet and began to brush her teeth. Her pitch meeting from earlier had gone well and her calendar was clear for the rest of the day. She was strongly considering finishing out her work day from the comfort of her couch with Netflix to keep her company. She reapplied her lipstick and fluffed her hair in the mirror. 

“You got this, Jade…”

When she stepped back into her office, there was a large bouquet of blood red roses sitting on the small table near her sitting area. With a little smile on her face, she walked over, plucking the card from the bouquet.

“I can never thank you enough for the gift you’re giving us. I hope you’re feeling better. With love, AP.”

The man wasn’t even here and he was making her swoon. That’s how Chloe caught her when she popped in a few moments later, a cup of tea in her hand.

“Oooooh who are those from? They are absolutely beautiful. I brought you some ginger tea for your stomach.”

“Thank you, Chloe.”

She took a small sip of the tea, prepared with honey just the way she loved.

“You take such good care of me.”

“Like you haven’t taken care of me your whole life…” Chloe plucked the card from Jade’s hand and read it with a little smile. Smooth… real smooth. Jade smiled over at her little cousin, incredibly grateful to have someone like her firmly in her corner. 

“How did he take the news? She asked, nodding towards Jade’s still flat belly.

“Shockingly well. Honestly, I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I mean, it’s not like you got knocked up on your own.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to be around. I googled him the other day and he’s kind of becoming a big deal… C’mere. Look at this.”

Jade dragged Chloe over to her laptop, quickly pulling up his appearance on the Jennifer Hudson Show.

“Aaron Pierre- that’s Mufasa!”

She couldn’t help the little giggle that bubbled up from inside her as she watch him dance down the spirit tunnel. She found it kinda dorky and super cute.

“Girl, your baby daddy is a whole meme.”

“And I didn’t even know who he was at the party. Not a clue. I just thought he was fine as hell. How did I not know who he was? The man is everywhere. I saw him on Entertainment Tonight last night..”

“I mean… you thought right. The man is fine as hell. I saw some of the comments under that video before they turned them off and those women are going feral for him. It’s kinda crazy.”

“Yeah… You know he’s called and checked in on me every day since he found out? Multiple times a day? Sent little gift baskets to the office…”

“That’s sweet. Bare minimum, but sweet. Have you two talked about how you’re gonna handle the munchkin?”

“He’s based here in LA for the next year because of some new show he’s on. We haven’t gotten too deep into custody agreements. Nothing like that. We’re still in the getting to know each other stage.”

“Yeah, usually people do that part first,” Chloe joked, ducking when Jade tossed a pen at her. “What about when he goes home? I’m gonna assume he’s not moving to the states just yet, huh?”

“He’s undecided. According to him, he’s seeing where things go work wise. So I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it…”

Chloe plopped down in the soft leather chair in front of Jade’s desk, crossing her long legs as she narrowed her gaze on her favorite cousin.

“And what about you? How are you handling all this?”

“Excited… grateful. Terrified. What if I’m not good at this? What if the baby gets here and he changes his mind and then I really do have to do this on my own?”

“First of all, you’re gonna be an amazing mom and this kid is lucky as hell to have you. Secondly, if he turns out to be a deadbeat, you got me.”

Jade shot her a grateful smile.

“When are you going to tell your parents?”

“Aaron suggested he just meet them first and tell them we’re dating. That way when the I drop the baby news, it’s not outta nowhere.”

“That’s a smart idea. Uncle Vincent is still gonna freak when he finds out. I think your mom is mainly going to be excited to be a grandma. If anyone deserves to be a grandma, it’s that woman.”

Thoughts of her mom brought a smile to her face. Jasmine Laurent was truly a powerhouse of a woman and Jade couldn’t have asked for a better mom. She actually was looking forward to telling her mom and soaking up all her parenting wisdom. Even if things didn’t end up working out with Aaron, her mom and Chloe would never let her down.

“She’s gonna be an amazing grandma… You know I cant help but to wonder about just how this all worked out. I’ve always wanted to be a mom and have a family. But I’m not supposed to be able to get pregnant on my own. And in waltzes this handsome man who completely upends my life and gives me the one thing I’ve always wanted. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Do you actually like him?”

“I don’t know him yet. But he’s gorgeous and gave me the absolute best night of my entire life. But I’d like to get to know him... see where it goes. Even if it doesn’t turn into anything, I still want to know what kind of man the father of my child is.”

The quiet buzz of her cell phone brought their conversation to a pause. Jade quickly checked the caller ID, unable to hide the little smile that tugged at the corners of her lips when she saw it was his name lighting up her screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey mama…” 

That deep rich baritone had her clenching her thighs together and her nipples tightening behind the silk of her bra. Instantly she was flooded with the memory of him talking her through it, his big body on top of hers and his breath in her ear. Aaron had recently taken to calling her the affectionate little nickname and she found that she loved it way more than she should at this point.

“How are you? Are you working?”

“I actually just got wrapped earlier than I expected. Wanted to see if perhaps you wanted to grab an early dinner? I can come to you if that’s easier.”

“I-,” she glanced down at her outfit. “I’d love that. What time are you thinking?”

“Gonna take me at least an hour to get to you from Burbank. How does six work? Give you time to get even prettier than you already are for me.”

The heat in her cheeks came back with a vengeance. 

“Six is perfect. And thank you for my flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re very welcome. Can you do me a favor?

“Maybe… what’s the favor?”

“Wear a dress for me tonight. One that’s your favorite color.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said with a little smirk.

“I’ll see you soon, mama.”

Jade hung the phone up, a little smile on her face as she glanced over at her cousin.

“Your calendar is clear for the rest of the day. Please go ride that man to kingdom come cause you look like you’re about ready to fuck him through the phone.”

Jade scoffed as she stood and grabbed her bag, slipping her laptop inside.

“I am not having sex with him. That’s what got me in this situation in the first place.”

“Why not? It’s not like you can get pregnant again.”

“Because we shouldn’t complicate things anymore than they already are.”

“Babe… you’re pregnant with your one night stand’s baby. It’s already pretty damn complicated. Plus, you said you wanted to get to know him...see where this goes. I suggest seeing if y’alls chemistry is legit or if it was just an alcohol fueled romp gone wrong.”

“Chloe…”

“You know I’m right.”

“Goodbye,” Jade said with a little laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Thankfully, traffic was better than usual and she made it back to her Manhattan Beach home in less time than usual. Once inside, she tossed her bag on her sofa before beelining it straight to her bedroom. Although she was serious about not sleeping with him, she still wanted to look absolutely delicious for him tonight. There was something about him that made her want to drive him crazy. The way those green eyes darkened when they’d settled on her that night was still fresh in her mind. He’d looked like a hunter who’d sighted his prey. She wanted him to look at her like that all the time.

Hot water poured over her smooth brown skin and she sighed softly, lathering up with her favorite vanilla caramel scented body wash. When her fingers drifted across her belly, she found herself wondering what she’d look like when she was showing. What would Aaron’s reaction to her pregnant body be? He seemed to love her breasts and hips, practically worshipping her body the entirety of their night together. Her nipples peaked and she shivered as she remembered how good the hot lash of his tongue felt against her overheated skin. She’d never been with a man like him before, one who took the time to get to know the curves and peaks of her body. Those massive hands and wicked mouth had worked her into a frenzy before she'd even reached for his pants. By the time she got him naked, her body had already been on the precipice of one of the biggest orgasms of her life.

Honoring his request, she picked a pretty orange body con dress, complete with a pair of strappy heels. Her pretty brown skin was moisturized and radiant and for the first time since discovering her pregnancy, she actually felt like she was glowing. A quick glance at her phone let her know that she only had a few minutes before Aaron was due at her place. She headed back downstairs and let her dog in from the backyard, grinning when the big black Shepard nuzzled her hand.

“How’s my sweet girl?” 

From the moment she’d brought Kali home as a tiny little puppy, she’d felt a kind of love she’d never known before. Kali was her protector and the one creature that loved her unconditionally, expecting nothing in return except love. She offhandedly wondered if Aaron liked dogs… Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a soft knock at her front door. 

He was here.

Butterflies kicked up in her belly as she made her way towards the door and she didn’t know why. The need to impress him, to make him want her again was unfamiliar to Jade and she swallowed hard as she pulled the heavy oak door open. Aaron stood there, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he let his eyes drift over her. Goddamn… she was perfect. 

“These are for you.”

Jade tore her eyes from his fine ass face to see the bouquet of stargazer lilies he held in his hand.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, taking the flowers from him and stepping back so he could come inside. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome. You look…incredible.”

Heat flashed in his eyes and Jade felt the answering pulse in her clit. Down girl. Kali ran up to him, curious about the strange man in her home. Her tag wagged softly as she sniffed him.

“This is Kali.”

Aaron squatted down in front of her, a huge grin on his face as the Shepard nuzzled at his hand. 

“Hi Kali… Hi sweet girl. Beautiful like your mama, I see.”

Jade couldn’t help the little smile on her face as she quickly put her flowers in a vase, keeping a close eye on her dog and Aaron.

“She doesn’t usually take to men like this…”

“Guess that’s good thing since she’s going to be seeing a lot of me, huh?”

“Is she?”

Those hazel-green eyes of his met hers as he rose to his full height, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes briefly dropped down to her lips before meeting her steady gaze.

“I plan to be around for whatever you need… whatever our baby needs. So yes, she should get used to me.”

Jade nibbled her bottom lip as she felt her heart thudding in her chest. He was saying all the right things so far, but this was the easy part. She’d see if he’d be around for the four am feedings and diaper changes. As much as she wanted to hope for the best, she had to be realistic about this. It was safer to just expect the worst. No disappointment that way.

“You mind if I wash my hands real quick?” He asked, motioning to her kitchen sink.

“Of course…”

Jade grabbed her purse, waiting for him to make his way back over to her. For a man of his size, he moved so damn silently. Once outside, he guided her over to his sleek SUV with a hand at the small of her back. It seemed crazy to her that this man had already seen her naked and yet a hand on her back was making her pussy leap with joy. Hormones.. it must be the hormones. She’d already started reading pregnancy books and was very aware that her hormones would be going haywire over the next nine or so months. 

His hand shot out before hers could, opening the passenger door for her and helping her inside. Jade couldn’t help but watch him as he walked around the front of the car, licking her lips when she caught the little dip in his stride. She knew she was down bad if the way the man walked was doing it for her. 

Conversation was light and easy as they drove towards The Strand House. Aaron couldn’t help the way his gaze kept drifting down to her bare thighs as he drove. He was trying his hardest to be a gentleman, but goddamn. The woman was a walking sexpot and there was something deeper, something that felt almost primal in the way he desired her now. Maybe it was the flourishing of life they’d created together. He wasn’t sure what it was but he felt this… almost magnetic pull towards her. After handing off the car keys to the valet, he opened her car door, reaching in to help her out. Even in her heels, she still barely came up to his shoulder.

“What’s that smile for?”

“You’re so tiny.”

His hand slid to her lower back as she glared indignantly up at him, only further proving his point by the way she had to crane her neck to even look up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true.”

“I am a very average height, thank you very much.”

Jade couldn’t hide the laughter in her voice as they were led to their booth by the hostess. It was relatively private, tucked away in the corner of the restaurant. She scooted in, nibbling her bottom lip when he slid in closely behind her. The warmth from his thigh seeped into her bare thigh and she shivered.

“Are you cold?”

The intensity in those golden green eyes of his, framed with the kind of dark lashes she paid for, temporarily rendered her unable to think. She just shook her head, tearing her eyes away from his. Jade didn’t miss the way his broad shoulders shook as he chuckled. 

“You make me nervous…”

Her voice was soft and unusually timid. His gaze met hers again and this time, there was a little crease in his brow that she wanted to rub away with the pad of her thumb.

“Why? I don’t want you to be nervous around me. I want you to feel comfortable.”

“I do feel comfortable… that’s what makes me nervous. I’m not usually this comfortable with people I’ve just met.” She swallowed hard before continuing. “You make me feel like this is all going to be ok.”

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted when their waitress approached, handing them menus with a too big smile directed at Aaron. Once she’d made her retreat, Aaron turned his body more towards her, giving her his full attention.

“I know you don’t know me yet and my word means nothing to you, but I meant what I said. I do want to get to know you. And I want to be there for my child. Even if this,” he motioned between the two of them, “goes nowhere romantically, I will always be there for you as the father of our baby. I don’t want my child growing up feeling unloved or unwanted. Whatever I have to do to make sure the both of you are good, I’ll do.”

Her dark eyes searched his and he prayed that she saw the sincerity in him. It would take more than words to convince her. The only thing that would was time.

“How are you feeling about it now that you’ve had some time to think?”

“Happy honestly. This isn’t how I expected to become a father for the first time, but I love kids. I’ve always wanted them.”

“Me too. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”

“Before, you said you didn’t think this was possible for you? Can I ask why?”

“Essentially, I don’t ovulate the way I’m supposed to. A few years ago, I had some eggs frozen in the hopes that I’d get married one day and we could try with IVF. But I guess… I don’t know. I guess the universe had different plans.”

Aaron nodded and she could see the thoughts behind those mercurial eyes of his. 

“Have you told your parents yet?”

“No… no… My mom is going to be so excited, but my dad…” she sighed, dropping her gaze to the table. “He’s going to be disappointed. I’m not married and he is very traditional.”

Aaron reached over, taking her small hand in his. His thumb stroked back and forth across the satin soft skin of her palm and the rhythmic motion comforted her.

“We can tell them together. I mean, if you want to. We don’t have to tell them the actual circumstances if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I think I’d like that.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a little smile and she couldn’t help but to smile back at his fine ass. Damn… drunk her had picked a good one. Their waitress made her return to their table and took their orders. Jade crossed her legs, turning her attention back to Aaron.

“Tell me about yourself… The stuff I can’t find online. What’s your favorite book?”

“Like my comfort read or a book that changed me?”

“Ooooh…. Good distinction. Both.”

“Comfort read is most definitely Bloodchild by Octavia Butler. And when I was a teenager, my mother gave me a James Baldwin book called Notes of a Native Son. Blew my mind…”

“You just earned major brownie points for that one,” she said with a little laugh. “My mom’s favorite author is James Baldwin.”

“Smart woman. What about you?”

“Uhhh…. I don't have a specific comfort book, but I love a good thriller. The In Death series by J.D. Robb has never disappointed me. And a book that changed my life…. Oh… Bell Hooks’ All About Love. That one sat with me for a very long time after I finished it.”

“I haven’t read that one.”

“It’s beautifully written. I love the way she explores love beyond just romance, especially in this day and age. I have a copy if you’d like to read it.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

The way his deep voice dripped like honey made her nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of her dress. How did the man make talking about books sexy? Almost as if he knew how he was affecting her, his eyes dropped to her breasts and Jade knew there was no way he could miss her body’s reaction to him. She could feel the flush in her skin deepen when he dragged his eyes back up to her face. 

“I know I said it earlier, but you look so beautiful tonight. I appreciate you wearing this for me.”

“Thank you, Aaron..”

“Mmm…” His voice rumbled in his chest. “I love the way you say my name.”

“You like making me blush, don’t you?”

“Might be my new favorite thing. I like making you do a lot of things.”

The way he was looking at her right now…the man was thinking a lot nastier than just making her blush. This time she didn’t look away, holding his gaze. Two could play this game. Aaron chuckled darkly when she matched his stare. Sure, making her blush was his new favorite past time, but bringing out this new side of her did it for him.

“You look so beautiful with my baby inside you. Did you know that? You were stunning that night. I remember I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. But now… baby doll, you are positively radiant.”

Her breath caught in her throat at his loaded compliment. Maybe it was because she was pregnant. Maybe it was because he was so fucking handsome. There was some kind of pull in her towards him. Jade couldn’t quite put words to it yet but it both fascinated her and scared her. They were supposed to be getting to know one another and all she wanted to do in this very moment was push the table back and straddle him right here in the restaurant, all the other patrons be damned. 

“How am I supposed to be getting to know you when you distract me so easily?”

The tip of his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip and his smile was downright wicked.

“Now you know how I feel. I’m sitting here trying to get to know the woman I’m tied to for the rest of my life but you’re so damn pretty, I cant focus on anything except how you felt that night. I’m trying very hard to be a gentleman, mama. I really am.”

He was lost the moment those dark brown eyes of hers filled with mirth and she leaned in even closer to him.

“What if I didn’t want you to be a gentleman right now?”

As always, please let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list.

Tag Squad: | @womderland-fandom | | @macfizzle | @blondekel77 | @dreamer0517 | @oljol | @aintnopartymd | @nerdysuccess | @wwedeanambrose | @kenziehere88 | @caramara3 | @ayeemya | @kangolcap | @jadabayda | @theayushijain | @fourtris-is-4ever | @justrae9903 | @fivefootxo | @deajm2116 | @cjricks98 | @emmaisnotcrazy | @wweimaginesandoneshotsthings | @wwe-smutfics | @blumisty | @lip-sync | @wwe-smutfics | @theayushijain | @crookedmoonsaultpunk | @sausagefest1996 | @ang-78 | | @msbigredmachine |  @andyelson | @vivalavonvon | @cool-snowball-22-blog |@arrowtothecrown | @night-of-the-living-shred | @fentybabyy | @princess-siba | @thenamesaj | @reigningxo | @pikapuff316 | @kayah16 | @rcarmelle | @bamakakechick | @texasbama | @melinatedmuse | @vivalavonvon | @ladyshadowdawn | @imawriterdamnit | @turn-thy-paige | @amethyst09 | @kmhappybunny | @mondaynightrollin | @vibranium-soul | @lizziebritish | @thenamesaj | @firered82 | @daytimeheroicsonly | @kumkaniudaku | @blackandfair | @brianabreeze | @shamidreamer | @onelovesr | @lady-love-and-glitter-roses | @black-is-beautiful18 | @theunsweetenedtruth | @90sinspiredgirl | @dramaqueenamby | @royallyprincesslilly | @ashleychristina73 | @sugarhooyo | @brittyevans | @nina-sj | @myaw731 | @shouldbeythequeeen90s | @mbakusmbitch | @n-o-v-a-caine | @delreyfenty | @thatssonanii| @annoyedkayah2395 | @queenofklonnie22| @ovohanna24

[sakur4ii]

Yandere! Batfam x gn!reader

warning: stalking, death, weapons.

The bindings on your wrists are too tight, you’re sure that once you take them off—if you manage to—it’ll take a couple of days to heal.

You can hear murmurs in the room next door; your captors have been arguing about God knows what for about 30 minutes.

You just want to go home and sleep.

Ever since you were mugged last week and had to be saved by Nightwing, your life has gone from bad to worse. You were fired from your part-time job, and you’re not even sure why—they just told you they didn’t need you anymore and kicked you out. The next day, your landlady told you you’d have to leave your apartment next month, and to make things worse, you don’t have the money to rent another one. Because of those two situations, you’ve been doing badly on your finals; you studied your ass off for absolutely nothing.

You also noticed something strange—you felt watched. Maybe it was just exhaustion from sleeping six hours total in the entire week, but you had seen shadows on top of buildings you passed on your way back to your apartment. You thought you were becoming paranoid, but now you wish your stalkers would come save you.

You know your stalkers aren’t your kidnappers—they didn’t even know your name. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You don’t understand why they kidnapped you without having any information on you. You only know it’s supposedly a trap for Batman, which makes no sense to you—but hey, this is Gotham, nothing makes sense in this city.

Silence takes over, and your captors enter the room. Two men, wearing carnival masks to hide their identities. The taller one points a gun at you. You look at them, unimpressed.

—Why aren’t they coming to rescue you?— he asks in a fake deep voice. You want to throw yourself out the window.

—Who?— you ask in a monotone voice.

—Batman and Robin.— growled the shorter one with crossed arms.

—I don’t know, want me to call them and ask?— you say, raising an eyebrow, making your captors start to lose their patience due to your sarcasm.

You don’t know Batman or Robin personally. You don’t know why they’re so insistent on them coming to rescue you. They probably don’t even know you’re kidnapped in the first place. Surely no one reported your disappearance, because there’s no one who cares enough about you. So you don’t understand—did they mistake you for someone else? That would be pretty embarrassing for them if so.

You hear a creaking sound as the two men in front of you start to complain and argue. They don’t seem to hear the silent footsteps coming from the ceiling, and that makes you press your lips together.

A tall shadow suddenly looms over the three of you—you recognize the silhouette: Batman.

The captor who had pointed his gun at you now points it at Batman, while the other runs behind you to point at your head.

—One move and they are dead.— you hear behind you.

Batman has a serious, stoic expression, showing no emotion—until he raises an eyebrow at you when he notices you haven’t changed your unimpressed expression. You’re too relaxed for someone with a gun barrel pressed to their neck.

A negotiation begins. You don’t pay attention. You can only focus on the sound of light feet approaching the window. In the blink of an eye, Robin disarms the captor behind you and supposedly knocks him unconscious. A fight breaks out between the fake deep voice guy and Batman, but the latter quickly disarms and knocks out his opponent while Robin unties you.

Once standing, you rub your wrists, not bothering to hide a grimace of pain at the sight—though it doesn’t hurt as much as when the ropes rubbed against raw skin.

—Are you okay?— the adult in the room asks with a rough voice. You nod.

You’re about to thank him for saving you when a gunshot behind you echoes through the room. As if in slow motion, you fall face-first to the floor. Your two heroes’ expressions turn horrified. Robin quickly knocks out the captor who shot you.

Your ears ring, you feel blood dripping down your neck, and your head throbs with pain. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

You slowly get up off the floor, hearing Batman and Robin panic. You place a hand on your head—it hurts a lot. That’s normal when you heal from mortal wounds as fast as you get them, but you still have the right to complain.

The two heroes look at you like you’ve grown a second head.

—I’m fine.— you clarify, giving a thumbs up as you finish standing straight.

It’s a funny story when you think about it, but of course, you didn’t expect what came next.

After the kidnapping, you started getting unexpected visits at your apartment. For some reason, after what happened, Batman’s friends took it as a green light to stalk you more closely.

Sometimes it was Red Hood stealing and returning your books. Other times it was Red Robin wanting to have dinner with you. Orphan always came accompanied by either The Signal or Batgirl to watch movies. And Nightwing always came with Robin—but Batman never came.

One movie night you mentioned to Orphan and Batgirl that in a few weeks you had to leave your apartment and still hadn’t found a place to go. Big mistake.

Big mistake? Yes, big mistake. Right now, you’re chained to a bed. The chain is long enough to let you reach the bathroom next door but short enough that you can’t reach the exit.

You’re not worried—you can’t die. And if they wanted to do something worse, they would’ve done it while you were unconscious. So you sit at the foot of the bed, staring at the closed door out of reach, waiting for someone to finally come in.

Of course, seeing Bruce Wayne walk through the door caught you by surprise.

—What—?

—Don’t be scared, I promise I won’t hurt you.

You look at him, confused.

—You’ve kidnapped me and you’re asking me not to be scared?

Bruce looks embarrassed, but he doesn’t back down.

—You said you were getting evicted. I’m giving you a home. Live with me and my sons, be one of us. You’ll never have to worry about trivial things like food or rent again.

You can’t believe what this man is saying—but you quickly realize an important detail.

—How do you know… wait… are you Batman?

Your surprised expression is comical, but Bruce Wayne doesn’t laugh—he feels proud seeing how quickly you figured it out.

It took a month for them to trust you enough to let you roam the mansion freely, and suddenly you realized the situation wasn’t so bad—that you finally had people who cared about you, people to waste time with.

It took a year to train you to go out as a vigilante. They saw you die over and over again, which made them overprotective—but they loved you so much they let you keep going out just to see you happy (the hugs increase if they don’t protest).

They think they have you under control, but in reality, it’s the other way around—you have them under control, and they seem happy with that.

I started reading drafts and decided to publish this one, would you like me to publish more? I have quite a few from the Batfamily, I also have some from Criminal Minds, and I've thought about writing for Invincible and Resident Evil.

[remcycl333]

STEP 1 - CHANGE WHAT YOU’RE AWARE OF

notes from “the creative use of imagination” by neville goddard 🤍

step 0 is to decide what you want. maybe you want money, or a new place to live, or an sp, or physical appearance changes.

step 1: begin to observe those thoughts and reactions towards the thing you want to manifest.

“to arrive at a certain definition of self, you must begin by uncritically observing your automatic reaction to an event, for your reaction defines your state” -NG

throughout this post, I will use the example of physical appearance change.

maybe throughout your day, you see pictures of other people on social media that you view as more attractive as you, and your reaction to that is “I wish I looked like them, this isn’t fair why am i not as attractive as them, what do I need to do to look like them” etc.

or maybe you see yourself in the mirror and you think “god why do i look like that, why am i not attractive? why hasn’t my face changed yet?” Etc

if you were in the state of having your desired physical appearance, would you be reacting that way to your 3D?

the first step to changing our state is to first learn the way our old state behaves and reacts to things. it is our current dwelling state that is reflecting in our 3d right now, and when you stop and observe your reactions to things, it becomes glaringly obvious how they’re creating your 3d. if you’re ruminating on how ugly you think you are all day long, you cannot be surprised when you look in the mirror and are dissatisfied with what you see.

“If you react to that which is being objectified, you bind yourself to a certain level of awareness, but if you refuse to react, the thread is broken.” -NG

“Only by observing your reactions to life can you find yourself.” -NG

how are you supposed to know what state you are in if you don’t observe your reactions? And once you begin to observe your reactions, Neville says you will be shocked by how deceitful you truly are. but he always urges the importance of uncritical observation. you should not shame yourself for what you find, or even feel bad. these observations are simply meant to show you your current state, and the ins and outs of it so you are able to change it more easily.

“always examine yourself uncritically, for the moment you become critical, you automatically justify your reactions and associate yourself with the thing observed.” -NG

once you begin to observe your reactions, you will become more aware of them when they happen. they’ll grow to become uncomfortable and glaring. they will feel like they don’t fit you anymore. maybe before they were just knee-jerk, unconscious reactions, but now you will feel them take up the space in your head whenever they arrive. and because of this, you will be able to shift your awareness to what you really want your 3d to reflect. you will be able to let go of the parts of yourself you no longer wish to identify with.

“be transformed by the renewing of your mind by changing the ideas planted there, for you cannot change your thinking until you change the ideas from which your thoughts flow.” -NG

your state creates your thoughts, not the other way around. it is critical to understand this if you wish to change your dwelling state. your thoughts are not your enemies. if you constantly battle against your thoughts, without ever paying mine to your state, you will not have much success.

“accept an idea as true. identify yourself with it and it will out-picture itself in your world. but if you do not accept the thought and identify yourself with it through feeling, you are free from its results. you must become very selective and learn not to associate yourself with unlovely thoughts.” -NG

this is not to confused with the term “mental diet.” when you react negatively to something, you have two options. 1) beat the thought down and panic and tell yourself the opposite without believing it to be true, or 2) choosing not to identify with it. remind yourself that this thought is just a thought. it has no power over you, and if you don’t want it to be manifested into your reality, it will not. Neville says if you do not consent to a thought as true, it will not manifest into your world. if you don’t associate your inner being with that thought, it will not come to pass in your 3D.

“start now to consent only to lovely thoughts of fulfilled desires prior to their confirmation by your senses, and give up the animal instinct of suffering and bathing yourself in the feelings of hurt and self-pity.” -NG

ruminating in unpleasant thoughts where your desire remain unfulfilled can be comfortable, and even habitual, but at the end of the day it is a choice. a choice that you have to stop making if you truly want better for yourself. this is something I struggled with a lot at the beginning of my manifestation journey. there was some twisted pleasure and comfort found in picking at scabs in my mind, and feeling sorry for myself, and imagining what would happen if my desire was never realized in my 3d. but eventually I had to choose better for myself, and I had to choose to stop giving so much attention to mental conversations like that.

“control your imagination with steady attention and dare to stand and be heard.” -NG

YOU create the happenings of your imagination, and your imagination creates your reality. do not feel silly or foolish deciding better for yourself in your own imagination. and do not let the logical restrictions of the 3d to tell you what you can and can not give yourself in imagination. give yourself what you want in imagination and stand firm in that, even if your 3d shows the opposite. stop silencing yourself in your own imagination!

this is my thoughts and notes only on the first two chapters of “the creative use of imagination” so more may come as I continue my re-read! 🤍 just wanted to share this :)

[thesensteawitch]

Something Is About To Be Revealed To You 🕊️

Pick A Pile Reading

Hey, lovely humans!

This is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

To book a personal tarot reading with me either you can DM me or directly book from the link mentioned below:

Booking Form • Rate Card

Pile 1

Oh, you don't know how powerful you are! Soon you'll realize that your intuition has always been right about what path you must walk on. You don't know how successful you can be. Despite having a chaotic thought pattern, you have the strength to unravel the knots that bind you to a limited construct. Life will show you why it was necessary for you to walk away from certain connections. Currently you're healing a shadow of yours, but you're about to come out of it. You'll rise above the challenges and will realize it was no one but you who decided your life to unfold the way it did. You may feel that you're a restless rat, always distracted. But all this confusion is leading you to the truth. Your path is messy, confusing, and pretty lonesome, but you are very, very close to a breakthrough. This breakthrough is changing you from within and outside. Your intuition is telling you that something better is coming, but it's not here yet, right? Trust it while you're on your way to a better and more deserving reality. The only advice coming from the source for you is to stay focused on your goal. Don't change your plans just because you haven't seen the results yet. If you keep changing your plans, you'll only bring more delays and confusion. If you're wearing something in beige, white, black, or red, then this reading is definitely for you! Angel number 222. Ending this at 2:22 (You're on the right path!)

Pile 2

Soon you're being revealed to a whole new world. You seem so bored with where you are currently. Something unexpected can come in the form of a new idea or money that is going to make you feel more confident to start a new journey. You want to create something, but you lack direction or an outlet. You're soon receiving a call from the divine to do something extraordinary. You don't need to look for this blessing. It will naturally come to you within 3-4 days. Don't lose hope. And if you're wondering why this new idea and resources are coming to you, then the reason for it is your past karmas. It's a reward from the source. For a very few of you, I also feel that someone's going to reveal their feelings for you. This person has been waiting for the right moment to make a move. They are going to take a leap of faith toward you as you mean the world to them. And all of this is not happening randomly. As I said, it's a reward for your own actions. You've been waiting to see the difference in the outside world for the difference you have made within you. A lot of you have given so much time into loving and taking care of yourself that it is going to be reflected in your surroundings as well. Someone sees you as spiritual, grounded, and friendly. Also, as you begin this new project with the idea/resource/offer that you're about to receive, you'll be surprised to see how talented you are. Don't be so hopeless. I know a lot hasn't worked out in the past but this time if you choose to accept this blessing your whole world will change. Love finds you; you don't find it. Strength finds you; you don't find it. Wisdom finds you; you don't find it. You just need to keep your channel empty to receive from the divine. 444 is your angel number. If you're wearing something in brown, blue, orange, or yellow, then this reading is definitely for you.

Pile 3

You are on your way to understanding the divine. You're doing this by being less self critical and more accepting of your shadows. You're no longer afraid of the darkness because you know that to embrace light, one must accept the dark too. Currently you're choosing to live in solitude to receive the message from the source. Some of you are receiving messages through songs. Whatever you're seeking currently is intense. And what you seek is seeking you. So what's about to be revealed to you is exactly what you're trying to understand. This pile doesn't feel that God is too far to reach out to, but you wonder what makes your shadow feel that way. You're not suppressing anymore. You're embracing all of you! So beautiful and serene, pile 3. I also feel that a lot of you are wishing to find a divine love where both choose to heal together without being codependent. The song, ‘Dandelions,' can be significant. The deep reflection that you're in is bringing you closer to union. This union of Shiva & Shakti is happening within you first. What divine love feels like will soon be revealed to you. It feels like you're choosing to dive into your darkness and find the diamond. You're doing something only few dare to do. I am also getting the vibes of Mula and Ardra nakshatras. Deep and intense transformations bring wisdom to you. You're evolving, and the truth shall soon be revealed to you. Keep going and do the right thing while you traverse through this narrow path. If you're wearing something in grey or purple, then this reading is definitely for you.

[void-of-unparalleled-chaos]

A bare bones DpxDc prompt

I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS OR THEIR WORLDS. I DO NOT INTEND TO MAKE MONEY WITH THIS POST. IF THIS POST IS ON TIKTOK I DID NOT CONSENT TO THAT. IF THIS DISCLAIMER IS MISSING THEN THE POST WAS EDITED TO NEGATE IT

Based on this post

Corpse AU but Danny hides his corpse by throwing it into the ocean. He couldn't just leave it in Amity! What if somebody found... it? Him? Whatever. With only 5% of the ocean explored, what better place to hide it than the deep blue? Who would come across it?

Atlantians. The answer is atlantians.

Some random atlantean came across the corpse. It seems like it's been down there for a few years, covered in bone worms, bacteria, and algae. Thus begins a lengthy investigation into the demise of a John Doe.

Meanwhile Danny has largely forgotten about his corpse at the bottom of the sea. He's too busy doing ghost hero things! Like being caught by a... cult? Ghost hunters? He's honestly not entirely sure what they call themselves but they are pretty dead set on "binding the ghostly menace to his remains".

He wasn't expecting it to work. Technically, he still has a living body he's "bound" to so why would it do anything? Of course nothing in his life/afterlife can ever be easy.

Danny wakes up in an underwater morgue piloting a corpse that's being practically held together by sea life and he Can't. Leave. He spends a bit walking around trying to get used to his temporary prison when the atlantean mortician swims into the room and straight up faints.

[ginnysgraffiti]

you're devouring these patrick bateman asks and i love it so i have to put in a bit

could we get smth w maybe a younger reader (like finishing a degree ish mbe??) whos an aspiring writer and patrick sees their writing as something actually good enough to obsess over and admire like he does with music yk and he kinda takes it upon himself to try to help boost their career and all that

also mbe a little gn idk if you do that on ur acc i forgot to checkkk it's ok if not there's just not much patrick that isn't fem

i tired to make it longer than usual, i hope you enjoy it TT

PATRICK BATEMAN x yn.

it starts as quiet curiosity. then, as always with patrick, it becomes consumption.

you hand him your writing one night —unsure, maybe shy, maybe joking and saying that you needed advice for university courses you were taking— and he takes it with mechanical politeness, fully expecting mediocrity.

most people who say they’re “working on a novel” are unbearable, and he’s read enough uninspired prose in the new york times to expect another disappointment.

but it isn’t that.

you write like you see too much. like you notice things other people miss. the rhythm of your sentences has intentionality. the metaphors are sharp, cold in places, and disturbingly exact. and he feels something rare while reading it: a flicker of actual feeling.

not envy. not admiration. something closer to awe. he rereads the same three pages four times that night.

then he prints a copy. just in case.

he starts quoting your own writing back to you —subtly, like it’s something from an ad campaign or a record sleeve.

in the beginning, you don’t notice. he’ll casually drop a phrase during conversation, something you recognize in passing. when you pause, brow raised, he only blinks. “what? it’s good.”

by the third time, he isn’t hiding it.

he reads your latest draft aloud to you in bed like it’s an excerpt from les inrockuptibles, cigar in hand, voice calm and clinical.

“this part,” he murmurs, tracing the margin, “this is violent. you understand violence better than most people in this city.”

and it’s not a compliment. it’s a revelation.

he begins inserting your name into conversations with unsettling ease.

patrick doesn’t usually talk about people. he talks about impressions. about value. but suddenly, your name becomes something he says often.

at restaurants: “they’re working on something new, you know. it’s different. smarter than what’s being published now.”

at business meetings: “you know who could write that better?”

he gets you in rooms you didn’t ask to be in.

he doesn’t ask if you’re ready.

he just decides.

you are something good, and like all things he deems worth preserving, he wants to own it — or at the very least, orchestrate its rise.

he offers to “help” edit, but his version of feedback is bizarrely intense.

he doesn’t care about grammar or structure. he cares about the precision of your metaphors, the weight of your last line, whether or not the reader should be punished by the ending.

he circles whole paragraphs and writes “not cruel enough.”

he hands you books from his library that don’t match your style, but then explains why your work is what they were trying to do — but failed to.

he says, almost offhandedly one night, “i think your sentences could kill someone if you wanted them to.”

and he means it.

he reads your writing the way other people read sacred texts. not because he understands everything — but because it makes him feel like he could.

he doesn’t love easily, or well. but he obsesses in ways that mimic it.

and you? you’ve given him something no one else in his world can offer: language that isn’t about money, or sex, or image.

your voice — your mind — exists outside the cages he built for himself.

so he tries to bind it anyway.

he commissions a custom leather-bound print of your manuscript. you haven’t even finished the last chapter.

he keeps it in his briefcase like it’s a weapon.

like you’re his weapon.

and when you finally ask why he’s helping you so much, he says — too softly to be calculated — “because you’re the first thing i’ve read that made me feel like i wasn’t in control.”

there’s a pause. he swallows.

then he ruins it by following it with: “and because i don’t want anyone else to find you before i’m done.”

you stare. he doesn’t flinch.

he thinks it’s a compliment. and, somehow, it is.

his obsession isn’t subtle: he’s constantly angling to insert you into the right circles, the elite literary salons, the private readings, the offices of influential publishers he’s cultivated relationships with.

patrick’s used to playing a game of appearances and leverage, and now he’s using every tool in his arsenal for you.

he’ll call contacts under the guise of business, then casually drop your name, speak about you as if you’re already a published author, an inevitability — and because it’s patrick, his confidence convinces them to listen.

he doesn’t care that you’re still working on your thesis or that you haven’t quite perfected your narrative voice. he will get you published, no matter what it takes.

there’s a sharp edge beneath his patronage — he’s determined the literary world will see you the way he does: worthy.

patrick’s precise nature bleeds into how he treats your writing process, almost to the point of compulsive control.

he schedules “work sessions” where you read your drafts aloud to him, under his watchful eye.

he’s the ruthless editor who will cut what he deems “superfluous” — but only because he’s obsessed with perfection. his feedback is exacting, sometimes cruel, but always laced with the knowledge that you can do better.

he doesn’t tolerate excuses or hesitation. “this is your career — your legacy. treat it like it’s the only thing that matters.”

and you start to realize that for patrick, your success is his validation.

because if you fail, what does that say about the one who invested everything?

beneath the relentless drive, there’s a strange kind of affection — rare, muted, and fiercely guarded.

patrick doesn’t do softness. he doesn’t do vulnerability easily. but when he watches you struggle with rejection emails or harsh professor critiques, he’s quietly furious on your behalf.

he’ll bring you coffee at dawn, a rare warmth in his voice when he says, “don’t let them break you. they’re terrified because you’re better.”

he believes in you with a conviction that feels almost like obsession.

and every night, when the city is silent and your pages are strewn across the apartment, he’ll sit beside you, pretending to read, but really just watching you breathe.

you’re still young, still growing — but patrick knows he’s already irrevocably tangled in the story of your life.

and the tension between admiration and possession is a constant undertone — he can’t help but feel territorial over your talent, your time, your energy.

he hates the idea of distractions pulling you away — friends who don’t “get it,” classmates who underestimate you, editors who dismiss your voice as “immature.”

he becomes a gatekeeper in the most subtle way, encouraging you to cut ties with influences that don’t serve your future, pushing you harder when he senses complacency.

“the world isn’t going to hand this to you. you have to take it — and i’m here to make sure you do.”

there’s a dangerous intensity in the way he says it, like love and control are braided into one.

the night of your book launch, patrick is impeccably poised — a mask of calm, but every detail obsessively curated.

he’s chosen the venue himself — a sleek, minimalist gallery downtown, just the right mix of exclusivity and buzz. the guest list is a who’s who of literary elites and socialites, and patrick has personally made sure your face is the only one on every invitation.

he stands beside you, perfectly tailored, but his eyes never stop scanning the room — calculating who admires you, who might try to undermine your ascent, who might be worthy of your attention.

he offers you a glass of champagne with the precision of a surgeon, his voice low and steady: “they’re going to eat you alive. but you’re stronger than they think. devour them.”

beneath that calm exterior, he’s buzzing with a complicated cocktail of pride, possession, and an unspoken fear that someone might try to steal what he’s helped build.

patrick obsesses over every review, every mention, every whisper of your name in the press.

he compulsively collects clippings, screenshots, and emails, filing them away in a binder that looks more like evidence than praise.

he reads the critiques with a clinical eye, discarding the “constructive” ones as irrelevant or malicious, but treasuring the rare glowing words as if they were personal victories.

if a review is harsh, he calls your publisher or editor — charming and lethal — to “clarify misunderstandings.”

for patrick, your success is a reflection of his own power and influence, and he will not tolerate anyone questioning it.

he becomes a paradoxical mix of protector and competitor.

while he wants you to shine brighter than anyone else, he’s also deeply territorial.

at parties and readings, he watches your interactions with other admirers or writers with a simmering jealousy that he masks behind polite nods and dry remarks.

he might comment, “interesting conversation, but be careful who you trust. some people only want your name for their own gain.”

he’s the silent shadow behind your spotlight, making sure no one forgets that he was the one who engineered your rise.

in private, his admiration turns into something almost reverent

he’s fascinated by the physical book itself — the weight, the texture, the smell of ink on paper. he’ll trace the letters of your name on the cover with deliberate fingers, like it’s an artifact.

he keeps a signed first edition on his nightstand, next to his meticulously organized skincare products — a symbol of the world you’re conquering together.

he may even whisper to you late at night, “you’re not just a writer now. you’re a force.”

and in that moment, the usual coldness melts into something fiercely protective and strangely tender.

GOD NOW I WANT A PATRICK BATEMAN TO HELP ME PERSUE MY WRITING PASSION UGH

:,(

[isabella-2025]

safe haven: Warnings: Cursing and Violence that is all.

Jacob Fatu X Ari

Plot: When you're surrounded by enemies an unlikely ally comes to rescue but why?

Let me know what you guys think and if you want a part 2. Thanks for all the love. 😊

Ari's dad Cole owed some money to Solo but he blew it all at the casino and Ari had no idea. One day Ari was walking home from work with her headphones on listening to music and she didn't notice a black van driving behind her slowly or hear multiple footsteps coming up behind her until it was too late. Solo sneaks up behind her with ease and puts a rag up to her mouth and as she struggles she breathes in the chloroform and passes out. Solo and Tama put her in the van and close the door. As they drive to the bloodline mansion Solo looks at the others and says

" well, that should make Cole pay attention she's gonna tell us where he keeps his money and if she doesn't then we'll beat it out of her." He laughs

" Yeah, she probably wouldn't even put up a fight weak little thing." Tama says

" Yeah this is gonna be fun." Tonga says with a smirk on his face

Jacob says nothing and just stares at Ari and he looks at her with almost a guiltily expression on his face even though she cant see it. He just continues to stare at her until the van pulls up outside of the mansion. Tama puts Ari over his shoulder and carries her to the basement where he ties her up. Solo looks at everyone and says

" now we wait for the bitch to wake up. "

Ari wakes up and is attempting to get a good view of her surroundings. She feels that she is bound at her wrists and ankles and she begins to panick. She screams

" HELP HELP SOMEONE HELP."

" Help, Nah little girl nobody is gonna help you, you are stuck here until your dear old daddy gives us back our money." Solo says smirking

Ari finally regains her sight and sees 4 men standing in front of her. Two look identical, one has blonde and black hair and the other has dread like hair but he is not standing directly in front of her he is off to the side in the corner not really engaging. She gathers the courage and says

" I don't know what the hell you are talking about my dad doesn't owe you any money. "

" Ha, you bitch just tell us where the money is and nothing bad will happen to you." Tama says getting closer to Ari.

" I honestly don't know who you are and what my dad does with you guys." Ari says

" Wrong answer" Tonga says

Before Ari can realize what is happening Tama and Tonga are on her hitting, punching and kicking. She screams

" STOP STOP I don't know okay. "

They do not stop though they go on beating her for about 15 minutes. When they Finally pull away Ari's body is littered with bruises and she is bleeding from multiple places.

Solo steps forward pleased with their handiwork. He roughly grabs Ari's chin making her look up at him and he says

" Well, are you gonna give it up now, just tell us where the money is and we might let you go." He smirks

" I don't know where the money is, I don't know what you are talking about." Ari says weakly.

" you know something and you will tell me eventually we might just have to beat you like this everyday until you crack." Solo says

Ari is about to speak again but before she can Solo punches her with force causing her to pass out.

Solo, Tama and Tonga look at Ari's motionless body and smirk as they walk upstairs. Solo stops though looks at Jacob and says

"Are you not goanna have your fun with her."

" No, I'll have my fun later" Jacob says

" Okay, take your time." Solo says as he walks upstairs to meet the Tongans.

Jacob looks at Ari's motionless form frowns and cuts her bindings loose. He then gently cleans the blood off of her and tends to her other wounds. When he is finished he kisses her forehead gently and whispers.

" I promise I will get you out of here."

Ari had been here a week and true to his word Solo along with Tama and Tonga beat her everyday hoping she would talk. Ari did not talk though because she truly did not know anything. Today was the worst beating Ari had received. She has bruises and scrapes all over her body and it just keeps getting worse. They beat her so bad her ribs were sore and she was coughing up blood. They looked down at her and Solo says

" You should know if you dont talk tomorrow you're dead bitch."

He kicks your ribs one last time before him and the Tongans walk upstairs. Ari lays there on the floor writhing in pain and coughing up blood when she hears the basement door open and Jacob walks in. Ari is scared that Jacob will snap and finish her off she cowers in fear and croaks out.

" If you are gonna hurt me just do it."

Jacob says nothing he walks over to her slowly and says

" I am not gonna hurt you, I wanna help you get out of here you just have to trust me."

" Okay" Ari says

Jacob gingerly helps Ari up and whispers to her.

" The others are out of the house when we leave I will take you someplace safe okay."

"Okay" Ari says

Jacob carefully gets Ari into a car and takes her to a safehouse that is three hours away from the mansion in a secluded area. When they arrive Jacob takes her inside and sits her down on the couch and goes to get a first aid kit. When he returns he looks at Ari and says

" Okay I am gonna clean your wounds it might hurt a little but I will be gentle."

Ari just nods as Jacob begins to gently clean her wounds. When he is finished he looks at her and says

" Does that feel better?"

" Yes, thank you, Can i ask you something." Ari says

" Yeah, you can ask me anything Ari." Jacob says

" Why did you save me and betray your family." Ari ask quietly .

" Because, I care about you okay." Jacob says nervously.

"why do you care about me nobody ever has." Ari says quietly

Jacob gently makes Ari look into his eyes and says

" Ari, You didn't deserve anything that they put you through, you deserve good things and I wanna give you that Ari I….."

" You what Jacob." Ari asks

" I love you Ari" Jacob says

to be continued possibly.

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @empressdede @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @femdisa @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @southerngirl41 @officialeve24 @usoinked @bossbitch-22 @madhatterbri @purplementalitybluebird @bloodlinemadness @holycollectivekitty @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @duhitzkay380 @bloodlinesbabe93 @amazinggirlsstuff

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life

Part 8: The Calm Before the Fall

|Part 7: Me and You In Eternity| |Part 9: The Vows That Bind Me [Finale]| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Asexual! Alastor, Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, dishes, being a simp for your partner, Asexual! Alastor, husband! Alastor. demon!Alastor School is killing me. I have like an exam tomorrow that I should be prepping for. Somehow, this was more important

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Morning of The Extermination

The bustling of preparation echoes around the hotel, crowding the once empty halls. There’s a cannibal fortifying some stray windows. Every bang of her hammer rings your ears. Boxes are being dropped and discarded all around you.

The bomb thrown from Angel Dust’s friend doesn’t help soothe the pain in your ears, nor does his gunfire. They’ve been practicing some ‘special takedown moves’ since the crack of dawn. It was the same routine yesterday, and the day before that as well. It’s a small consolation that they’re practicing outside, muffled by the hotel walls.

Another booming explosion makes you wince, and it jostles some feathers right out your scalp. With a sigh, you pocket the strays.

Lys and Heme startle, bumping into each other as they follow behind. Lys glances around, taking a step closer to the group. Heme doesn’t seem too bothered by the sound. Their eyes filter around the tacky décor of the hotel.

Heme leans closer to you, whispering. “At least there isn’t much pink here.”

You snicker into your shoulder, and wave Charlie and Vaggie over when they round the corner. Charlie grabs Vaggie’s hand, dragging her closer.

“Come meet my interns,” you say and gesture to Lys and Heme. “They’ve agreed to participate in today’s extermination. There’s quite a number of cannibals fighting, so I thought I would call for some assistance.”

“That makes sense,” Vaggie nods, shaking their hands with a firm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Charlie smoothens the skirt of her dress, waving at them. “You guys all work together?”

“I was a paramedic back up top,” Heme says, waving back at Charlie. “Your cannibals will be in good hands.”

“And I was an ER nurse!” Lys gives them a thumbs up. “I never expected to become a doctor here in hell. The tuition fees are so much cheaper. I thought the fees would be ridiculously impossible to afford, but it’s practically free! A bit surprising since we are in hell—probably some kind of off-brand humor.”

“Neither did I,” you say, humming. 

Alastor insisted on paying for your education. It’s one of the very rare times when he refused to accept a ‘no’ from you. The tuition fees were being paid by him, and that was final. It’s good that the tuition fees barely dented his fortune, considering Alastor didn’t bother checking how much money exited his pocket every term.

“Shall we do names?” Charlie smiles at them. “This is Vaggie and I’m—"

“Charlie Morningstar,” Lys finishes for her. “I saw you on the TV.”

“From the commercial, hopefully.”

“From the news with Katie Killjoy,” Lys says. “You put up quite the entertaining display.”

Charlie laughs awkwardly.

You clear your throat a little. “This is Heme, and that’s Lys but we call her K sometimes.”

“You could also just go AAA as well.” Heme snorts into the air. “I certainly do when I see her in the morning. Her hair just puffs up like some kind of eldritch horror.”

“Absolutely not!” Lys elbows them. “K or Lys will do.”

“I really hope that isn’t your actual government name.”

Lys rolls her eyes, huffing. “And why would it be?”

“So…,” Heme begins, cringing a bit. “You willingly choose that name?”

“As if ‘Heme’ is any better.”

Another loud explosion jostles more feathers right off your scalp. Those go into your pocket as well. If Angel Dust and his friend survive the extermination, you will shove a bomb down their throat and smile as their blood streaks the fucking pink of your office walls.

You place a hand on Lys’ shoulders. “Yes, yes, you are both raging nerds—we get it,” you say, swatting your hand in the air. “Now be polite and say hello to Charlie and Vaggie.”

Lys and Heme both say their hellos.

Vaggie tilts her head, and some strands of her hair shift to her eyes. Charlie brushes some strands away. “K?” Vaggie echoes. “How do you get K from Lys?”

You smile at Vaggie. “If you don’t know why, then you don’t know why.”

“Well, either way, I’m so glad you’re willing to help.” Charlie’s eyes shine as she rocks on the balls of her fist. “I really appreciate how willing you are about helping out.”

Heme raises their hands in surrender. “Don’t thank us just yet.”

Lys shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “What Heme means to say is that we were offered extra points to be here.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Vaggie tells them, placing a hand on her hip. “Are you sure you want to be here? I mean…for extra points…?”

Lys laughs.

Heme laughs.

You laugh.

Lys grabs Vaggie by the shoulder, clutching it as she bores her eyes into Vaggie, pulling her closer. “I would do anything for extra points.”

Charlie’s smile stiffens as she peels Lys' fingers off Vaggie. She takes Vaggie’s hand pulling her closer, and turns to Lys with a smile that shows off her teeth. “I wish you luck, then.”

Somehow, you doubt if Charlie actually means that. Vaggie doesn’t seem to notice as her smile becomes a bit dopey.

Heme brings out their arm to separate Lys from Charlie, showing off their own smile. “We really appreciate that,” they say. “Thank you, your highness.”

Charlie places a hand on her chest, bringing out her hand to offer Lys a handshake. Heme takes it for her, smiling with a gentleness that would be foolish to believe. Alastor would love to witness such a sight. It seems he has trained the princess well, but your own pupil isn’t keen on losing either.

“We shouldn’t take too much of your time. I’ll let you guys go back to work,” you say, clearing your throat. “I’ll be here preparing the station inside the hotel. Lys and Heme will be smoothening the secondary site. If you need anything, we’ll be around.”

The group disperses and so does the tension. Vaggie pulls Charlie by the hand, and the filter off. She has to use the tips of her toes to steal a kiss from Charlie. Goodness! Not even you and Alastor are so unrefined to show off such cheesy displays. (Right…Right?)

You pick up a small crate of vials, hauling it off to its appropriate shelf. It’s quite heavy. Everything needs to be organized. It’s going to be chaotic once the extermination begins. Things need to be in order for quick and easy access.

The shadows below you flicker for a second. Alastor slithers out of your shadow. He doesn’t need to specifically slither out of your shadow. It could be any other shadow, but for some reason, Alastor chooses to pop out under yours anyway.

Alastor snatches the crate from you, inching ever so closer. “We wouldn’t want you breaking such a brittle back, would we?”

You roll your eyes, bumping your shoulder. The vials in the crate clink. “Thank you for bringing me here, Al,” you say. “I like this place. It’s a shame that I’ll have to leave soon.”

Alastor slots the crate when you point to the empty slot on the shelf. He summons his microphone with an annoying type of flare, using it to lean closer. “I doubt you actually think that.”

“It’s only because of the trees in your room.”

Alastor gives you a pointed look.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s your room until the trees are present,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean on the shelf. “I feel like there are animals that watch me sleep at night.”

Another loud boom has you jostling into the shelf behind you. It ruffles the feather right off your scalp. Alastor inches closer, placing a hand on your ears to muffle yet another boom.

“If you step inside, and actually take a look, then there would be no reason to be frightened,” Alastor tells you, presenting the fallen feathers with a smile that shows off the yellow in his teeth. “It’s quite a nice place for a picnic. You would know that if you got over such ridiculousness, and allow me to take you.”

“Are you going to watch television with me?”

Alastor squints at you with annoyance but still, he places his hands on your ears to muffle another boom. “Absolutely not.”

You show Alastor the most innocent smile you can produce. “Then I’m not bringing a single feather into your forest that’s in your room. Although…I am eager to go to our home where there are no trees.”

Alastor shakes his head at you.

The halls are strangely silent. If you strain your hearing, the cluster of Sinners loitering outside catch your ears. How lovely. It seems the bomb assault on your ears have ceased as well.

Alastor leans forward until his bowtie reaches your vision. It’s crooked. You reach out for it, straightening it for him. The pads of your fingers smoothen the creases of his bowtie. Your hand trails down his chest until your fingers hook on his lapels, and adjust the fit of his coat. It’s all so solid.

He pushes his fingers on your cheek to force a smile. “What’s on your mind that’s got you frowning so deeply?”

“There’s much to frown about. I’m worried about you, deerest.” You fix his bowtie once more. It’s already straightened. “Scared, if I’m to be honest, and confused as to why you would volunteer to fight Adam alone.”

“Would you join me then?”

“I would.”

Alastor’s claws dig into the wood until a portion snaps away. “Don’t you dare.”

He pushes your cheeks once more, and doesn’t stop until you show him a smile. A reward comes in the form of a cheek kiss. His lips linger on the skin of your cheek, nudging his nose closer.

“Either way, what an absolutely silly thought. This is nothing I can’t handle.”

“Silly and stupid, maybe,” you say, turning to the shelf behind to arrange a box of vials that’s already been re-arranged. “Even if it makes me a fool, I am… unfortunately …a fool who happens to be serious. A silly, silly, foolish wife.”

“I only said it was a silly thought. There’s nothing foolish about you.” Alastor places a hand on your head, patting some feather down. “I would leave if you asked me to.”

You lean into his touch, humming as you take in the truth that’s being presented to you. “And what would you do if I did ask?”

“I would take you.” Alastor’s smile softens for a moment. It’s in the way he hides his teeth, and how his smile reaches all the way up his cheeks.

“Just me?”

Alastor glances around before placing a kiss on the very edges of your lips. It causes you to bump into the shelf. A hand shoots out to press back whatever that threatened to tumble off the ledge. “Only you.”

“What else?” you say, playing with the tips of his fingers.

“We would go to our home, and I would sit on the piano, playing while you do your stitching.” Alastor traces the ring on your finger. “Later, the news will play from the radio and we’ll hear all about how the hotel toppled and everyone died.”

“Why—because you weren’t here?”

“It’s because you would be with me, eating breakfast,” Alastor says, smiling. “Then we’d have our coffee. In the evening, I would come home to you and this cycle would repeat beyond eternity.”

The pads of your thumb go up and down as you caress his face, accepting whatever truth Alastor displays for you to see. “But something tells me you can’t.”

“Yes…but I can’t,” Alastor affirms, placing a hand over your hand to nuzzle further into your palm.

“Just like you can’t tell me about whatever mess that caused you to disappear on me for several years,” you say, trying to show him a smile. It doesn’t work. “You could have at least taken me. I would have followed you to the edges of this world.”

Alastor closes his eyes and connects his forehead with yours. His lips open and close as if there are words he wants you to hear. Whatever they are, he doesn’t say them.

Did you make a mistake? The question roars through your mind. Are you saying too much? Are you displaying too much of your soul for him to see?

“My, most precious, Al,” you call out to him, forcing a light chuckle and a smile as you swat him playfully. “I think I would have even settled for a goodbye or some assurance that you were to return to me. Look at me now. Ha! Oh, how you have absolutely ruined me.”

Alastor summons his microphone. It lands with a harsh ‘thunk’ as he it to place a glaring distance between.

Oh…oh…

There’s a proud and dismissive smile on his lip—it almost hurts to see such a sight. He uses the microphone like a cane, leaning on it as he divides the space between you and him.

You reach out to touch him, trying to shorten the gap he’s forcing.

Alastor inches backwards, ever so slightly. It’s the smallest of movements, but it hits you with the gentleness of a crashing wave.

There’s nothing you can do to hide your frown. Once more, you turn your back to him, rearranging a perfectly organized set of glassware on the shelf. The glass clinks together as you move it. What did you say? Did you say too much?

Alastor studies you for a moment. His eyes flicker to you. Somehow, you’re able to give him a small and dismissive smile before turning away to rearrange another box. The cracks are beginning to show again. Not in front of him. Anywhere, but in front of Alastor.

He inches his own hand closer, tapping your fingers with the very tips of his nails.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Three taps in quick succession.

Once more, you reach out to touch him. Alastor meets you halfway, leaning into the hand that holds him. You swipe your thumb on his cheek.

“Will you trust me?” Alastor asks you.

“Not when you smile at me like this.” Both hands go to his cheek, smoothing his face with the pads of your thumb until there’s only a tightlipped smile. It’s better than whatever dismissive smile he thought to give you. “But you tell me—should I trust the Radio Demon?”

“It would be unwise to do such a thing,” Alastor tells you. “But you can trust me, and I need you to know that.”

The cheeky part of you wants to be annoying, and ask who ‘me’ is. There’s no need to question it, not when you already know. It’s the Alastor when you are with him and when he is with you.

“Why the sudden question?” you ask. “I trust you…I always know that I can trust you, deerest.”

Alastor takes both your hands, holding it in his. He presses his lips on your ring, kissing the smooth metal. “Because there is a difference,” he says. “There’s a reason why I will not explain myself to you. Not when it’s much safer if I don’t.”

He pulls you into a hug, clutching your head to press you deeper into his chest. Questions swirl around your mind but the way Alastor cradles your head, brushing your feathers ceases all questions and heeds into Alastor’s silent request. 

You snake your arm around his back, clutching the fabric of his coat to pull him tighter. Alastor leans his head on your shoulder, bending his back to fully curl into your arms.

Alastor pulls you closer to the shadows, shifting you so his back faces whatever Sinners that could walk in. He pulls you even closer, arching his back to press even closer.

You lean your cheek on his head, and the base of his ears flicker. “While the thought is deeply appreciated, I still don’t like it.”

“I never expected you to.” Alastor pulls away to pick a feather off your scalp.

There’s a box in your pocket. It would probably be safer to leave the thing in your room, but you couldn’t part with it. No…not that. Instead, you slip the ring off your finger. “I want you to keep this for me.”

Alastor’s smile wobbles, and his ears flicker for just a moment. “Ha! Is this your way of asking for divorce, dearest?”

You reach up and plant a kiss on the edge of his mouth. “As if I can ever bear to get rid of you, my love,” you say, taking his hand in yours. “It would be hazardous to wear it later, and I can’t have it falling out of my pocket. You’re the only one I trust to hold it for me.”

The ring slips into Alastor’s fingers easily. There are two rings on his finger now.

Alastor inches closer, and your back hits the shelf. “Is that all?”

You play with the edges of his fingers before intertwining your hand togethers. “I want to keep existing with you, deerest,” you say. “I want to keep doing the dishes for as long as you keep cooking for me—”

Alastor places a finger on your lips, hushing you into silence.

The feathers on your scalp bristles as he shushes you. Part of you wants to chomp off his finger for such an audacity.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

Your lips twist as you take in his words. Once more, you look away and rearrange some syringes that have already been rearranged thrice.

“You speak as if I won’t return to you, and even when I do, I won’t.” Alastor presses a kiss on your forehead. “But I shall keep the ring for now if it proves to you that it will be returned. How ridiculous you are.”

“Is that a deal, my deerest, darling, husband?”

Alastor boops your nose. “What is the worth of a deal when we have our vows?”

“Then I will hold you to it,” you say. “Afterall, it would be troubling to have to find myself a third husband.”

Alastor raises his eyebrows, trapping you between the shelf and his body. “That implies you’ve already had a second.”

“Oh darling,” you say, placing a hand on his cheek. “You are the second.”

“Am I now?” he says, inching closer. “How come I’ve never heard of this supposedly first husband of yours?”

“He was the most handsome radio start!” you tell him, flaring your hands as you smile. “But I prefer you much better. What is five years compared to decades of existing with you?”

Alastor’s smile widens to show off his teeth. “I happened to enjoy those five years with my first wife.”

You laugh, and Alastor’s eyes flicker all over your face. “Those five years were everything to me.”

“You’re doing it again—speaking as if you’re trying to convince me to stay,” Alastor says, softly. “I will return to you.”

“And I trust that you will.”

“My, most, dearest, your eyes crinkle when you smile,” he tells you. “Have I…Have I ever mentioned that to you?”

You show him your widest smile. “Does it?”

“It always has.”

Everything will be alright. The extermination will pass, and soon you’ll have that ring returned to you.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The full force of the extermination shakes the building. Every boom shakes the walls. The chandelier jerks with every shoot of the canon. Angels fly above the glass ceiling, their swords raised with flared wings.

They’re ethereal.

What makes them fly? Birds have hollow bones to lighten their bodies for flight. Do angels have similar physiologies? Do their insides bleed the same way humans bleed? The things you would do to have their bodies splayed on your table, ready for your scalpel. And those wings…Alastor would love those wings.

You place a hand on your heated cheeks, sighing with delight.

What kind of smile would Alastor show if you presented angel wings to him? Would he be delighted with your gift? Part of you hopes he will. The base of their wings should cut off easily enough. They would look grand displayed out in the living-room of your home.

The shouting and clanks of steel jostle you out of your day-dream. Cannons mixing with the bombs and gunfire are downright excruciating.

The door slams open.

Someone barges in, clutching their arm. Their forearm is missing. The cannibal strides towards you, straddling what’s left of his arm. Blood drips down and pools on the carpeted floor. The bones that stick out are jagged, as if it’s been blown off rather than sliced.

You wave him over as Lys and Heme rush to your side, and ignore their own patients.

The cannibal takes a pensive sit on the cot, showing off what’s left of his arm. Strings of muscle and skin dangle from his elbow, revealing the long-jagged bone of his ulna. Holy energy corrupts the tissues of the skin and patches of his skin droop and fall off by the second.

Right then and there, you knew that there was no saving this arm.

If the holy magic isn’t removed from his body soon, then the death of his tissue would continue to creep up his arm, and corrode the healthy tissues that remains. That is if the blood loss alone isn’t going to take him first.

How absolutely lovely! This cannibal isn’t screaming.

“Oh…goodness,” you say, trying to fight off a smile. “This is the sixth one already, and it hasn’t even been an hour yet!”

Groaning and wailing echo around the hotel. Their desperate pleas for reprieve are ignored in favor of the cannibal with the corroding arm. Holy light consumes what’s left and burns his arm like acid. The cannibal’s face contorted with pain, biting the inside of his cheek to drown the scream.

“Deep breaths,” you tell him. “Once we remove the holy light, your body should heal right on his own. That’s quite lucky, right? Had you been human, I would have needed to clip some blood vessels and cut off your nerves.”

There’s a polite smile on Lys. “Do we remove the holiness?”

The blood on his arm pools on your gloves as you take it in your hold. “That would take too much time and resources, unfortunately.”

“Then…can we cut it off?” Lys asks, and her smile turns downright sinister.

You bite your lips, letting it quiver as you hold your smile. It doesn’t work. “I believe we can.”

The cannibal gulps as Lys and Heme crowd around him. Heme takes his intact arm, pinning it down to buckle the shackles around his wrist. They move on to his head. Lys makes quick work to chain his legs, and buckle his torso with the straps.

Heme takes a deep breath and sighs with bliss. “Shall I grab the morphine?”

“There’s no time,” you say, giving the cannibal a small and reassuring thumbs up. “If we wait, there will be nothing left to cut off...just a tourniquet, please.”

“Of course.”

You turn to the cannibal, pointing to your opened mouth for him to mimic. “Say, ‘Ahhhhhhh’. Can you do that for me? Ahhhh. Don’t worry, it’s just for your safety. Ahhhhh.”

The cannibal opens his mouth, obeying the request. A cloth gets shoved down his throat as Heme tightens the strap of the tourniquet.

“Hello there!” you say, smiling brightly as you lean down to meet his eyes. “Thank you for keeping silent so far. Try and keep it up! Don’t worry, I promise to be extra gentle.”

Lys hands you the bone saw. It’s surprisingly light as you take it from her. This saw is battery operated, and every bit automatic. One press of a button, and the saw revs, its sound reverberating around the busy room.

Modern technology is so useful! Back when you were alive, amputation was done using the strength of the person.

The cannibal begins to trash around to resist, but the straps hold him down too tightly. The saw goes through the tissues of his skin and muscles. He’s screaming now, his whole body taut as you press the saw deeper into him. The bone takes a second longer to cut through, but the force of the saw eventually wins over.

The cannibal passes out.

Lys inserts a morphine drop while Heme wraps his arm with bandages. They filter off right after, the thrill on the amputation obvious in their steps.

Someone barges into the room, cutting the line of Sinners waiting to be treated. It’s a female cannibal this time. She drags another cannibal in her arms, letting the legs drag limply on the floor. The weight of the body collapses her to the ground.

You walk up to her, placing a hand on her shoulders and kneel to meet her eyes. “Hello.”

“Please,” she chokes out, clutching the body tighter. The squish of blood squirts on your coat. How disgusting. “He…Help him.”

There’s a hole where his lungs should be. It’s as if someone punches a cavity straight into his chest. This Sinner is dead, and his entrails are slipping out this very moment.

“Do you know him?” You brush stray hair behind her ear. “Come on, now. Talk to me—Do you know him?”

“Y-yes,” she says, tears spilling from her eyes. “This is my husband.”

A stray tear drips down her cheek. You brush the next one away. “Are you hurt?”

“What does that have to do with him? I’m not here for me!” She clutches your coat, wrapping her fingers around the fabric.  “Please, you have to help. The princess said you were here to help. So, help him.”

The blood staining her palms transfers to the fabric of your coat. How revolting. You peel her fingers off.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” you say with a bright smile. “You’re free to leave your husband in the deceased pile and pick up his body later. The next room is open if you can’t fight anymore. You could always pick up a stray weapon. Do whatever pleases you, but you can’t stay here.”

“…What?” Her teeth sharpen as cracks appear on her pearly white skin.

Interesting.

Had Rosie and Alastor not been on such friendly terms, you would have opened a cannibal’s insides a long time ago. It’s a shame the deceased pile will be used as food. Should you ask Alastor to negotiate a deal for one of their bodies?

Alastor … Alastor…Oh, how he would enjoy some angel wings.

“Toss her out.” You stand up and brush away the flakes of dried blood. “Tag the husband, then toss him on the pile. I wouldn’t want eyes to start appearing here. They’re rather creepy.”

You give the cannibal a small wave as inky shadow puppets drags her out the door, kicking and screaming.

Lys walks up to you, ignoring the growling wails around. There’s so much work to do—a break is taken when a break is found. “Wow,” she says, whistling. “That was harsh.”

Heme appears next. It seems they too tired of their patients. “It comes with the job.”

“Of course, I know it comes with the job. You don’t care for those you don’t care about.” Lys turns to you, smiling. “Hey doc, would you cry if we were here?”

“Probably from the loss of such amazing talent!” you tell them as if you would. Not a single tear would leave your eyes if they died. It would be deluded to think you would, but it’s quite a lovely fantasy. “I see you’ve been practicing—”

The glass ceiling shatters, and glass rains down.

You shield your eyes as Vaggie and some other angel crash to the ground on a dragon. It’s quite sad to see such a majestic creature go to waste. Should you preserve some of its bones after the extermination? Surely, Alastor would love some dragon bones…or perhaps its whole head.

Metal clinks as angelic steel crash against one another. Vaggie swipes her spear, but the angel dodges it easily.

This place is no longer safe.

“Evacuate the secondary site!” you exclaim. “Grab who you can, and…eh… just leave anyone who can’t stand on their own. Forget about the body pile. Just go!”

Heme nods and brushes stray glass out of Lys’ hair.

You grab your things, keeping an eye out as Vaggie and the angel exchange blows. Should you help her? Vaggie’s part of Alastor’s little pet project.... It’s not your fight and thus, not your problem. It seems you wouldn’t need to help. Vaggie’s wings burst forth, and uses her spear to dislodge some concrete to drop on the angel. 

A chain reaction of falling debris ensues.

It has you pressing backwards to narrowly dodge being crushed, and traps you into a corner.

Great! Lucky you. Love that.

Now, you have to climb your way out. Of course, this happens to you. The secondary site should already be prepared if it hasn’t already been run over by angels. The screams of Sinners grate your ears as you step on stray debris.

An angel bursts from the broken ceiling. She swoops down, plunging her sword through the neck of a stray Sinner. Ugh, what a waste of resources. If the cannibal was going to die in the end, then he should have just died the first time. How irritating.

You climb the rocks, dropping to the ground.

The angel turns towards you with her sword. You raise your hand in surrender.

“Are you a doctor?” The angel asks you, taking a step closer.

Fuck…

You take a step back. “Do you angels not have a rule against targeting medical personnel?”

The light reflects off the angel’s sword as she raises it higher. That’s a really sharp sword. A proper sharp sword. A sword with a very, very, sharp edge.

You’re running.

The muscles of your leg aches, and every breath you take burns your lungs. There’s something to live for. It’s not a waste of energy if there’s something to live for.

The building lights glitches sporadically. A buzz grows into the air, and tingles up the nerves of your spine. Your shadow spreads as if darkness itself urges it to grow. It climbs up the wall, and paints the whole space darker. 

The angel looks confused, taking a step back to assess what’s happening. A bright green hue streaks the edges of the shadow. Static builds. It starts off as a soft crackle until it’s all you can hear.

The symbols that carve itself in the air bring out your laughter. “Oh, just you wait until my husband arrives.”

An arm creeps out of the shadows below you. The bones are bent and the claws attached to the arm scratch the floor. A second arm joins the first one, pressing on the ground to haul itself upwards. Alastor climbs out of your shadows, and the air glitches with a sharp static. His antlers are growing, increasing like tree branches.

Blood drips out of his smile, and pools on the floor. Stitches appear on the edges of Alastor’s lips as his snarl widens to bare his teeth. Radio dials replace his usual red pupils.

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, the blood on his mouth transferring to your skin. A blissful sight escapes you. “Hi, honey,” Alastor says, a thick radio filter glazing his voice. “I hope I’m not too late.”

Green tendrils snake up the leg of the angel, wrapping around tightly. With a harsh tug, the angel crashes on the ground, trashing against her restraints.

“Not at all!” you say as Alastor’s bone snaps back into place. Gone are the proud antlers and the radio dials that strike your core. What a shame. “Dinner’s being pesky. Can I trouble you with some help?”

“Tell me you’re alright.”

Tiny voodoo dolls creep out of the shadows. They turn their heads, and their bones creak and snap as they turn towards the angels, crawling towards her.

Alastor grabs your shoulder, spinning you to face him instead of the angel. You try to turn, but he pokes your cheek then brushes the back of his fingers down.

His gaze harshen as he looks at the angel, a cold look in his eyes. “I’d appreciate an answer, my love.”

“Just went for a slight jog,” you say and take a deep breath to calm your beating heart. You’re so out of shape that it’s not even funny. “See? Not a feather out of place thanks to you. I just need a minute to calm down.”

Alastor turns to you, and it’s funny to see how fast his gaze turns from cold and harsh to warm and soft.“I thought it was a waste to run.”

“Well, it’s not a waste if you’re running because you have something to live for,” you say as screaming replaces the radio static. It’s loud and shrill, grating your ears. A woosh of the sword, but nothing seems to connect. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the roof?”

Vaguely, Adam and Lucifer exchange blows as they duel across the sky.

Alastor smiles at you, and there’s still blood dripping down his smile. You reach out for him, swiping the blood on his lips with your thumb. It leaves a streak. “I was.”

“Help me…” The angel reaches out. Its wings and part of its legs have been bitten off. “Please… Mercy … mercy.”

“Hush now, darling,” you say, placing a finger on your mouth. There’s a smile on your lips as you bare your teeth. “Mommy and Daddy are talking.”

The angel screams louder. She reaches out as the voodoo dolls chomp their teeth into her skin.

Alastor grabs your shoulders once more, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What happened to Adam?” you ask.

He inches closer. “He isn’t important.”

The angel ceases her screaming, but the sound of squelches doesn’t stop. What a truly gruesome sight.

“You could have saved the body for me,” you tell him, pouting. “I’ve never seen the insides of an angel before…and I wanted to gift you wings. I think you would have liked it.”

Alastor presses his lips on the edges of your mouth and more of his blood transfers on you. He brushes the dirt that sticks on your skin. “This one isn’t worth your time,” he tells you. “I’ll find you someone better. One with less intestines sticking out their guts.”

Somehow, your smile becomes dopey as the taste of iron fills your senses. “Oh, I love it when you flirt with me.”

“You have a very ridiculous notion of flirting.”

There’s a loud and sharp ringing that forces you to clutch your ears.

It’s like a build-up of power. The sound grows, echoing in your eardrums. The pain forces you to your knees, and you clutch your feather to muffle more of the sounds.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Ḯ̶̝͝t̵͇͝h̸͚̲̐̄ũ̵̺r̵̰͎̈́̀ṱ̷͈̉̓s̸͈͕͋̅ í̷̠͎͠t̸͚̥͋h̴̖͌û̷̧r̸̜̉ͅẗ̵͕̯́͐ŝ̴̨ ǐ̵͈̀ṱ̴̻̂̐h̷̻̄͜ǜ̵͈r̶͕̣̈́t̴͇̝̅̕s̷͇̖̈́ ḭ̷̡̈́ţ̵̔h̸͕̱̿ú̸͙̂r̴̯̈t̶͇̖̄s̴̹̆ ḭ̷͗t̸̨͑h̵̭͗̄û̵̞͓͝r̸̭͚̐͌t̸͓̬̃s̵̤̎̂ͅ

Vaguely, you feel Alastor’s hand on top of yours. He presses into your palm to help muffle the sound. His lips are moving. It’s too loud to hear him. Tears prickle your eyes as you clutch your head tighter. He pulls you closer to him, bringing you into his chest as he cradles your head.

With a deafening boom, the building explodes in half.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The dust settles eventually.

Light bulbs shatter to the ground, and the brightness of the morning streams into the broken building, illuminating the ruined hall.

The building cut in half. One large beam, and destruction surrounds Alastor everywhere. So much destruction, and loss of Sinner life that eyes begin to carve themselves on the very foundations of the walls.

Power drums through Alastor’s veins, but it would take more than one haphazardly shot beam to destroy the entirety of the Hazbin Hotel.

His wounded pride isn’t important. Not right now. Not at this very moment.

Alastor brings his hand up and down the feathers of your head, smoothening the ones that sticks out. Your shoulders tremble as he presses you into his chest, and he feels every shake under his palm.

The way he holds you, cradling your head with a tightened grip around your body, flares the wound sliced into his chest.

Every single fiber of him hopes you don’t notice. Alastor will take care of that later, and only when you’re safe and far, far, away the crumbling building. Not a second before that.

Alastor pulls you closer to him, even if the pain burns his chest. “Tell me you’re alright,” he says. “You need to tell me nothing hurts.”

It’s more of a plea than an actual demand.

He looks down at where he holds you, tightly pressed against his chest and crumpled between his legs. You’re both crouched on the ground.

Alastor pulls away, just enough to meet your eyes and not any more or any less.

Your hands press into your ears. There’s a blank look on your dusty face. He’ll clean you later. Safety first—you’re safety first, always and forever.

He trails his fingers until they hook on your chin. Alastor tilts it to force you to meet his eyes. “Come on, now,” he says. “This is not the time to be foolish. Tell me if anything hurts.”

There’s a strange look on your face as you bring your palms out in front of you. Blood stains your palms. The light that streams illuminate the space just enough for Alastor to notice the blood on your feathers as well.

It’s weird—strange, almost—how Alastor can hear the way his heart thumps.

“Alastor… oh god …Alastor,” you call out for him, voice an octave higher than usual. “I can’t hear anything. Alastor, I can’t hear. It hurts. I can’t … Alastor … Alastor—”

“I’m right here.” He holds your face in the palm of his hands, careful not to pierce you with his claws. Always careful. Forever careful. Always and forever careful.

You shake your head, trembling between his legs. “I can’t hear, Alastor,” you say with desperation. “I don’t like this.”

Alastor brushes a feather away, reveling in the way you call out for his name. “I’ll take care of that later.”

He pulls you back into his chest, pressing you deeper into him with tight arms. Even if the pain of you propped directly above his wound forces him to bite down on his lips, Alastor still holds you until you stop shaking.

He brushes his hand along your bake. It takes about ten minutes of sharp pain, and carefully labored breaths until you ease into his hold. Alastor would endure another ten minutes because he is your husband, and this is something he can handle. Even if he couldn’t, he’d still endure it for you.

You pull away, looking straight into him with eyes that shine brighter than the sun itself, and give him a bright smile. “Much better?”

A bright smile? Your smiles are rarely bright. They’re soft or gentle or wide or innocent or annoyed, and Alastor can keep on listing. They are bright, sometimes, but this is the wrong type of bright. This one barely reaches your cheeks, and your eyes aren’t crinkling.

It’s a smile for the sake of showing him a smile. It’s controlled and meant to hold your emotions.

Alastor steals a kiss from you, pressing kiss after kiss until your eyes crinkle. That’s better.

“Tell me if anything hurts,” he says, pressing one last kiss. “Come on. Tell me.”

“I’m assuming you’re asking if I can hear,” you say, and Alastor nods like he did. “The ringing stopped, but it’s all still muffled.”

Alastor brings you to your feet, clutching your hand.  The pads of his thumb go up and down. It’s a habit he doesn’t fully notice. “We’re leaving.”

You’re patting your pockets.

The shadows spread around you and his own clutches your hand, pulling it possessively.

It’s easier to travel alone, harder when there’s another person. It takes a significant portion of his magic to bring another person with him. Alastor doesn’t care, not when it’s you he’s bringing.

The shadows snake up, ready to transpo—

You push him away, stepping out of his grasp. “It’s gone! I can’t find it,” you mumble, whipping your head around. “It was right here. It should be right here.”

There’s panic in your eyes as you dash to a pile of rocks. It’s in the way your eyes open wider and your mouth hangs slightly open. Alastor sees every little detail on your face, even in the dark. Anyone who wasn’t looking would miss it, but he’s always looking.

“It was just in my pocket.” You’re in a frenzy now, digging your nails into whatever debris you find.

There’s a loud snap that echoes, but you don’t hear it.

Things were crumbling around you, but you didn't seem to notice. Or was it that you didn't care?

Alastor grips your arm, pulling you away. He narrowly saves you from a light fixture crashing right on your head.

You push on his chest, right above his hidden wound. Pain flares just enough for Alastor to ease his grip, and you pull away.

There are debris that escapes your notice. You trip on them, landing on your ass with a wince.

Alastor should laugh at you. He can’t find it in himself to do so. Not when it hurts in a different way to witness your push him away so… so effortlessly. The base of his ear flickers downwards at the sight of such apathy. Alastor forces them up.

He offers his hand to you. Still, you shake your head.

“No, no. nononono,” you tell him, pushing back. “Later. It should be right here. It was just in my pocket. Where is it?”

Your nails scratch the ground as you push away whatever’s in your sight to keep digging. The feathers on your scalp sharpen as you allow your emotion to take over.

Alastor grabs your arm once more, and he doesn’t care that your frown deepens. “We are leaving, now.”

Just as easily as before, you push him away.

“Stop being foolish!” he snarls at you, even when he knows you hardly hear him. “Whatever it is, I’ll get you another one.”

“It’s important, and I lost it,” you say, still entrapped into a frenzied daze. “I can’t lose it as well. Don’t leave me…Alastor, don’t leave me. Where are you?”

There’s a sharp edge on the concrete you’re trying to push away. It slices your palm open when you push it away. Somehow, you don’t pay any mind to it.

Alastor takes your hand, and kneels on the ground with you. “I’m right here,” he says, and shows the two rings around his finger. “I’m not leaving until you are.”

You pull on his hand, but Alastor grips it tighter. “I have to look for it,” you say, weakly. “It’s important.”

There’s a handkerchief in his pocket that has his name on it. Alastor takes it out, studying the stitches. It’s one of hundreds that you’ve gifted him. Actual hundreds. He counted each and every one.

“Nothing is more important than you.” Alastor wraps the handkerchief around your hand, holding it tightly. “Late me take you, and I promise I will turn every stone in this pathetic building to find whatever it is you’re looking for. It’s not worth your life. Not to me.”

Alastor presses his forehead on your shoulder, curling into you. Shadows pool around, and it grows with his command.

You’re pushing on his shoulders, trying to squeeze out of his hold. “Alastor…no, no. Please!”

He doesn’t listen to a single word. The shadows grow higher. Alastor tightens his grip on your waist, even as you push him away.

“Alastor, no,” you beg him, still pushing on his shoulders. “It’s right there. I found it. It’s right there. Please, let me get it. Let me get it, and we can leave. Please!”

The shadows stop. They recede back into him. It heeds into your demand because your lips were not meant to beg.

Alastor peels himself off your shoulders, swiping your cheek with his thumb. “Tell me where it is.”

You point towards a flipped couch, near the edge of where the building cuts in half. Alastor places a hand on your shoulder when you try to stand.

“Stay here, it’s safer,” he tells you, and your eyes scrunch as he brushes more dust off your face. “If I get it for you, will you finally stop being ridiculous by pushing me away?”

Your head tilts as you lean into his palm, but you nod. It seems you still can’t fully hear him. Alastor goes to get it for you. It’s propped up right at the edge. It’s good that he went. You could have tripped and fell right over.

The box is smooth against his fingers, and the paint has long faded away. All this fuss for such a simple box? Alastor doesn’t understand why you treasure such an item.

He tosses it, and the box lands on your lap.

There’s relief in your eyes as you grab it, and a smile forms on your lips when you check what’s inside. You look around, eyes fluttering until it lands on him.

Alastor’s smile widens into a snarl before he controls himself. Not you—never you. He offers a hand. “We’re leaving, now,” he says. “I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself.”

A crack echoes across the walls.

You take a step towards him, reaching your hands to try and meet him halfway. Alastor will take you out of here. Somewhere safer. Somewhere that doesn’t threaten the life of his very reason for existing.

The Hazbin Hotel.

The war with heaven.

Freedom from his deal.

None of it will matter if you weren’t safe. Everything he’s done so far will become useless.

Another loud crack.

The tips of your fingers are so close. If he can just reach it, Alastor can take you out of here. He can bring you to solid ground where you will be safe. Just one step, and you will be safe.

One last sickening crack, and the floor crumbles beneath you. There’s a soft smile on your lips as the shadows claim what belongs to him.

Beautiful.

You are beautiful.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Some of you really wanted Alastor to fuck around and find out. So this is him fucking around and finding out. I have the ability to do the funniest thing ever and just…end the series here <3. Reader fell and that’s it. The end. Gosh, I really hope at least one of you know how K and AAA are taken from Lys. T___T Id be such a nerd if at least one of you didn’t huhuhuhuhu Writing for Alastor is like, just so fun. He’s such a meticulous character so everything he says and the way he says it has a double meaning. Taglist: @mybrainsautocorrect @ray-rook @valentique @qardasngan @valentique @teavibesaf @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @alastorssimp @aestheticgals-blog @reikamasama @slaggylemon @lyralibra @holymusicalmothman @amoraneuro @littledolly2345 @b-o-n-e-daddy @infinitefox @ayyyyyy-vase @kny-kween @thehiddenvase @stclen-sweethearts @obessivlyonline

[shifterdera]

What's in my revolution dr bag

Hey, yeah, I decided to do this one too, for my revolution dr. This is how my bag is in the very beginning of the "story".

I'm just a poor 23-year-old mechanic there. I don't have much stuff and I'm moving between cities every now and then, running away from the government.

1. The bag

This is the bag. Yeah. What else should I say? It's a good massager bag with much space.

2. Food

Food is a very important part of my life, especially the sweets (Yeah, I got a sweet tooth). That's the reason why there are many foods in my bag.

★Water. I think I don't have to explain that. Water is always needed,. especially with my type of work (I'm a mechanic there).

★Gum. I am in love with gum, you just go around, chewing on it and if it's a good gum, then it even holds its taste for a long time. This one in my bag is especially good, it has a long lasting flavour, I ADORE that.

★Tic-tac. Even two packs. They are really good, the mint ones the best.

★Chupa chups. Yes.

3. Hobbies

★My notebook. I love writing stories, even tho I don't do it much. But the notebook still lays around in my bag (It will have a big role in the future, when I will be bonding with a character. He is a damn book worm and will (literally) kill you for a good book. I love Kawinski, he is a silly guy)

★The pen. It just comes with the notebook, I have to write with something, right?

★My MP3-player. I live music, I can't live without. One day without Lady Gaga, And One or ABBA - and I'm dead.

4. Money

★Self explaining. All my money comes with me.

5. Medical

★Plasters. Yeah, with beeing a mechanic this shit is needed almost on a daily basis (jk, not that often, but still needed.)

★Bandaids. The same as the plasters.

★Scissors. For the bandaids and nails.

★Antiseptic. For the cuts and wounds, so that I don't get an infection (I hate infection, I automatically start scratching on them and they never heal because of that)

6. Self care

★Lipstick for my dry ass lips. I always lick them and bite them and that's why they look... Well, bad.

★Nail polisher or how the fuck is this thing called. I can't even remember :")

★Deodorant. Yeah, a male one. Cause they 1. Cost less then the female one (I don't know why and wtf, but sadly that's true) and 2. They just smell better. I don't really love the floral smell. (That's a funny thing to say, cause I've never really experienced it? I mean, I can't tell apart different scents. O can tell when the "scent" of the air changes to something else, but I can't tell them apart. If they are too week - I don't feel them at all.) But yes, I innerly don't really like the floral scent :D

7. Things, that I hope Tumblr won't mark this post as "possibly mature content" for

★Cigarettes. REMEMBER, KIDS, DO NOT SMOKE, THIS WILL LEAD TO HEALTH PROBLEMS AND SERIOUS ADDICTIONS!!!!!!!!!!! But, yes I do smoke and I carry the pack around with me.

★A lighter. A really badass one. And very useful.

★A combat knife. For many reasons. It can be really useful in my everyday life. Moreover I need it for self-defence (Yeah, I am running away from the damn government, tho I don't really think it will help if they finally track me (spoiler: it won't))

8. Practical things

★Hair ties. Although I have really short hair, it is still long enough to bind it with a hair tie so that it doesn't fall into my face.

★A flashlight. Is just practical and I carry it around for the black days.

★An umbrella. Yeah, is practical. I don't want to get wet in the rain

Yeah, I think that's all! I don't really have much in my bag, like I said, I'm just a poor mechanic and I move through cities to not get tracked down by the government. Maybe I'll tell in another post more about this reality, but that's all for now!

Forever yours,

Dera

[numinously-yours]

Pick a card: From your Soulmate

Happy Friday! Today's reading is a soulmate reading. Your reading includes: Characteristics of your soulmate & a note from them <3

Pile 1: Ace of Pentacles

I’ve been kicked down in life, but each time I get back up the light at the end of the tunnel gets brighter. I have been trying hard to trust in the universe because I know it’s bringing me everything I could want – and that’s you. You are such a compassionate, beautiful, smart, and wonderful person pile 1. You know how they say to never stop dating the person you’re with? That is my plan with you – to woo you forever. You deserve to be wined and dined. I hope to show you each day how much you mean to me. I’ll bring you flowers. I’ll give you shoulder rubs. I’ll tell you silly jokes just to make you laugh. I will spend our time together making sure you never feel unloved. You are my manifestation and I can’t wait to be with you.

Pile 2: The Lovers

Your love is a breath of fresh air. Being with you brings me mental clarity. It makes me understand that the way I’ve been treated in relationships up until now were not an accurate representation of a healthy relationship. Gosh, it is so refreshing! You may find when we begin our relationship that I am hesitant to make big decisions. Because you are showing me something I’ve never known before, it is going to take a little time for me to be convinced that you’re not going away. But let me tell you, once I am shown time and time again that you show up, it is game over (in the best way). The way that we align will take away all the doubts I’ve ever had about love. And I won’t be able to thank you enough.

Pile 3: The Hanged Man

A lot of my life has been about competition; mainly, competition with myself. I have a need to prove myself. I want to be the best at what I do. And I know that that mindset isn’t always the most productive. With you in my life, soulmate, I am reminded to pause. I am reminded that there are more perspectives out there from my own and that I’m allowed to let go of what I think SHOULD be to open room for what IS. You’re really going to allow me to look at my shadow self and understand why I have this need to be better than the previous version of me. You’re going to help me see the restraints that I’m binding myself with. My competitive nature will always be a part of me but I’m looking forward to the time in my life where I can experience joy just being who I am, where I don’t feel like I need to be constantly winning. My life with you is the ultimate prize.

Pile 4: Two of Cups

I’ve held myself back for much of my life with the fear that I don’t have the tools to succeed. I always think that if I just had that one thing – more money, more confidence, more time – that then I can take the plunge. At times, I also find myself wanting to do everything for everyone. If I put effort into one thing, I feel like I am neglecting the other, and then I stop doing either. I want to be the best RIGHT NOW, no matter how unrealistic. And then you came into the picture. My inspiration, my muse, my reminder that each day is a clean slate. Not only do I know we will grow together, but I know that I will grow personally because of you. You never fail to encourage me to follow my dreams. You have a way of reminding me that, even if I “fail”, I can always get something out of a situation which means I didn’t fail at all. I really hope I can do the same thing for you because you deserve the same, if not more, of the energy you give to me.

[momentomorix]

Summary: You wanted to forget JJ Maybank, but maybe that will have to wait for another time.

Warnings: None

Writers notes: English is not my native language; please excuse me if there are any mistakes or poor translations. JJ Maybank x Reader Partie 1 Partie 2 Partie 3 Partie 4 Partie 5 Partie 6 Partie 7 Partie 8 (final)

The days went by, the distance growing, and your mind slowly quieted. You made yourself more discreet at the Castle, still showing up after a few days away just enough so they wouldn’t forget you completely. You’d asked to work extra hours at the café, often covering for coworkers who wanted time off.

You needed the money, and you needed an excuse to explain why you couldn’t be around as much anymore. Everyone believed it—because it made sense. After all, they were also finding side jobs to get by, since Sarah refused to use her family’s money to live on. John B wouldn’t have allowed it anyway. Pope had aced his interview and was starting school in the fall, Kiara still worked at her dad’s restaurant while beginning her studies in biology, and JJ… well, he was JJ. He was convinced he’d never make anything of his life, just like his pathetic father—but he masked the fear that it might be true with humor. You’d told him more than once he should get into mechanics—nothing ever resisted him when it came to fixing an engine or bringing a dead boat back to life. He’d only half-listen, just to please you, but it was fear that gripped him. Fear of a future he couldn’t picture.

You’d seen him with that redhead girl once, changed your bike route to avoid him—but he always saw you. He called you several times, telling you you’d almost run into each other, that he wished you’d shared that ice cream too, or telling you about the latest wave that nearly drowned him. You answered maybe one out of four calls, always hanging up quickly, pretending you were busy. Not answering hadn’t been a smart move—you knew it would annoy him, maybe even worry him, and that he’d end up forcing his way in like he always did. That’s why it wasn’t surprising to see him slip into your room at the end of the day, just as you were finishing a dreamcatcher far too dark to ease anyone’s dreams.

‘Looks like you’re about to summon ravens with that thing,’ he said. You jumped at the sound of his voice, letting out a scared curse. He burst out laughing, not caring if you wanted him there, or if his presence was even welcome. He just invited himself in. As always.

‘What are you doing here?’ you muttered, annoyed that he was disturbing the sanctuary that was your room. String was everywhere, metal hoops covered your bed, glue oozed across your desk. It was a wreck, just like you—but it was yours. ‘You weren’t answering, so…’ ‘Yeah, sorry. I was busy with all this crap…’ You gestured toward the chaos—it was a good excuse—then went back to crafting your dreamcatcher, one too black to ever be properly appreciated, but you liked it. Last time at the market you hadn’t made enough, so you’d doubled the workload. He stepped closer to see what you were doing, not understanding how you had the patience for all these little things—even though, yeah, he had to admit, they were pretty. He still had the first one you’d ever made, hanging above his bed. It was clearly ugly, the glue showed and the cords were uneven, but he loved it for its flaws. It didn’t always work to keep the nightmares away, but it was enough to help him fall asleep. JJ lay down on your bed like it was an old habit, like it was normal, natural. The look you shot him made him take his feet off the sheets with a dramatic eye-roll. Arms behind his head, he looked around your room, searching for what felt off. Something had changed—he could feel it, like he was a stranger there now.

Then he frowned, noticing your little trinkets were gone, that some pictures had been moved or simply disappeared. Then he looked at you, focused on the hot glue binding two cords together, dripping onto your fingers without a flinch. But he knew it hurt—he’d burned himself once trying to help you. Your hair hid part of your face, but he could make out your parted lips, like always when you were concentrating, and the slight furrow in your brow because you were so precise. He knew you better than the rest of the group—because both of you had been dealt the same bad hand when it came to fathers. Yours loved you, but had failed most of his life at showing it. His didn’t love him—and made sure he always knew it. He could still feel the bruises from a few days ago. Sure, John B had a similar family story and grew up close with both of you, but it wasn’t the same. John B had never filled his head with filthy thoughts. ‘You changed your room,’ he said flatly. You weren’t going to deny it. You finished spreading the glue before pressing the cord to hold it in place, then looked at him. His beautiful blue eyes locked onto yours, searching for a response that wouldn’t confirm what he already knew. That something had changed. Even between the two of you. Because he could feel it—it was there. "Yeah, I just wanted a change." You looked over at your dresser, now stripped of the shared memories that once cluttered it, replaced by a stack of books you wanted to read and a half-finished cup of hot chocolate. "Trying to be more grown-up." He gave a crooked smile you didn’t see, having quickly looked away. JJ had never imagined anything could ever happen to your friendship—it was so solid. He had John B as his anchor, his best friend, his chosen brother even without sharing blood. Then there was you. He’d found you once punching some older guy, and you'd threatened him too—he'd offered you a pack of cookies in return. He’d always known you. Like a meeting that was meant to happen—to throw a little light into the dark tunnel he was in. But things had shifted. He’d seen the darkness you fell into at the start of your teenage years, and even though you were still that comet, he'd ended up convincing himself that maybe you were just a passing light.

Your friendship was stronger than stone. You made sure he got patched up after every fight, and he made sure you were still there every morning. You were his only constant—along with John B. Then came Pope. Then Kiara. "Will you be there tonight?"

He hadn’t meant to let hope slip into the question—but even he heard the pleading tone in his voice. You paused what you were doing for just a few seconds—enough for him to notice and for a flood of questions to rush in. What the hell was going on? "I’ll come by later, yeah… my dad should be home soon…"

He didn’t feel the chill settle in him at first, didn’t realize you were gently pushing him out just because your dad was coming back. How many nights had he spent here while your dad slept on the couch? How many times had you taken him in, bloodied and bruised, and asked for nothing? And now—you were hinting that he should go?

For once, JJ Maybank didn’t know what to say. No sarcastic comeback. No dumb joke to make you laugh. Breathless, he climbed out your window like he always did, only turning back once to tell you the party wouldn’t be at the chateau—it was happening at TannyHill. "Why?" You rubbed your hands over your face, already irritated by the idea of going there. It meant being surrounded by a bunch of Kooks, and even though things had settled a bit since Sarah started dating John B, everyone knew it only took one spark to set everything off again. Especially if Topper was drinking too much. He smiled because you had turned to him, meeting his gaze this time, your hair flying across your mouth. He smiled even wider when he saw you were still wearing his ring. "Country Club's throwing a party to celebrate some crap his dad sold. Apparently, we’re invited."

JJ didn’t really understand either why Sarah’s brother had told him to bring the Pogues, but he wasn’t going to say no to free booze and joints. He’d just have to behave himself—which was always easier said than done—for things to go smoothly. He and his big mouth would have to shut up for once.

"This is going to end badly." You could already feel it. There’d be a fight, some stupid mess that’d spiral out of control—because Kooks and Pogues didn’t mix. Like oil and water. A fucked-up combination.

"I’ll behave," he said with a wink, and you smiled despite yourself. Because it was fucking Maybank. Because even if you wanted to shake off all the emotional mess tied to him—he was still JJ. A pillar in your life.

And just like that, he felt like nothing had changed between you. Like you were still the girl who cared about him, even through his darkness. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to dull the sting inside him as he made his way back to the Castle.

Everything was fine. He was just imagining things. And yet, the change became real when they left the chateau without you—because you said you'd come later, promising you'd show up no matter what. Pope had silently raised an eyebrow. You were always on time—worse than him, and he hated being late. You'd always waited for each other before heading to the Kooks’, arriving like a loud, defiant herd to show you didn’t give a damn about the glitz and glam. You were a wild bunch, hair soaked in sea salt and sunshine—and you loved it. "Pope, what the hell are you doing?!"

John B’s voice cracked through the air as Pope looked up one last time toward the road behind them, still hoping to see you riding up on your bike, breathless, apologizing for the delay. But nothing. So he just walked toward the old Twinkie, slammed the door shut, and sat there, lost in thought. He could feel something had shifted too—but couldn’t place it. And for the guy who was usually the brain of your happy little crew, that only frustrated him more. On your end, you delayed the moment you'd have to put on that fake mask—staring at yourself in the mirror, trying to force a smile. You even practiced a few laughs—from high-pitched to deep and dry—and it was so pathetic, you gave up almost immediately. You’d never been the overly smiley type anyway—no one would question your usual stoic face.

You cursed under your breath when your black nail polish smudged, still tacky as you reached for your mascara before heading out. Headphones in, volume up, an old rock song in your ears—and just like that, you were off, walking to the Cameron estate. Your bike had stayed quietly in the garage. On foot, it would take longer. More time before stepping into hell.

When the manor finally came into view, you stopped dead on the sidewalk. The hesitation crept in. You saw lights flashing in every direction, silhouettes dancing on what wasn’t even a real dancefloor, the pool already taken over by half-naked bodies in swimsuits that left nothing to the imagination, and the smell of weed hanging thick in the air. You grimaced—you hated that stuff. You knew if you smoked it, you’d lose control, and that was simply not an option. "You're here!" The red-haired girl appeared in front of you, two red cups in her hands. Smiling—always smiling—and beautiful as ever, radiant in a way that mirrored JJ himself. That realization hit you a little harder than expected. They were alike, both of them. Smiling at everything, loud with joy—while you only knew how to be silence and sarcasm.

Still, you smiled at her. Because despite it all, she was a nice girl. It wasn’t her fault your hearts both beat for the same boy. You couldn’t hold that against her. It felt like a sudden clarity—you couldn’t hate this girl. You could only understand her. “What’s your name again?”

She smiled, a little relieved. She’d always felt some kind of coldness from you, and the fact that you were asking her name now meant something. You were letting her in. “Callie.” “Okay, Callie.” “I lost Sarah, and JJ’s already had too much to drink.” No surprise there. She knew his passion for anything that dulled the mess his life had become.

Callie grabbed your hand—spilling a bit of her drink onto your leg in the process—and pulled you along behind her, weaving through the crowd in search of your friends. You tensed at her touch but didn’t pull away. You had to dodge bodies in your path, endure the blaring music that grated your nerves, until finally, one of you appeared. Pope was standing in front of a makeshift gallery wall, eyeing a series of “artistic” photos, his cup still untouched. “This is crap,” you said after glancing at the display yourself. Black strokes crossing in every direction, dotted with pink flowers.

You tilted your head at the same time Pope did, trying to make some sense of it— And that’s when Sarah showed up. “It’s my stepmom’s.” Ah. That explained everything. “Anyone seen JJ?” John B walked up behind her. “He took the tequila and vanished.” “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Kiara groaned. She knew exactly what tequila did to JJ—how many versions of him it unleashed. “What’s it going to be this time?” “Last time, I managed to calm him down.” You looked at Callie, annoyed.Because usually, you were the one yanking the last shots from JJ’s hands. You were the one lecturing him while pressing a cold cloth to his forehead when he puked his guts out. Soothing him wasn’t the answer—the tough love worked better. But clearly, without realizing it, you had traded places with her. That’s when Pope noticed it—the shift. He didn’t say a word, just watched. But he didn’t miss a thing.

From the way your eyes flicked briefly to Callie, to the subtle change in your posture that screamed you wanted to leave. And then JJ appeared. Tipsy, but not as far gone as expected—knocking back the last of his drink in one quick gulp. His eyes were shining—the way they always did when he was having fun, when he finally managed to forget. And Pope saw it again—this time, even clearer. You stepped aside when JJ came over to the group. You, who usually stood right next to him. You crossed your arms, barely listening to what he was saying, your eyes scanning the rest of the party.

That’s when Pope understood. You were in love with JJ. And he couldn’t help but feel for you. He knew what unrequited feelings felt like. He’d gone through it with Kiara. Sure, he came out the other side all right—realizing their friendship meant more than anything romantic, and their separation had been soft, almost easy.

But when he saw your gaze darken just a little more— He hurt for you. “I’m gonna find something to drink,” you said, turning away before anyone could stop you. Your friends halfheartedly wished you good luck—because short of water, there wasn’t going to be much “soft” around here. Maybe, if you were lucky, a forgotten bottle of Coke that hadn’t already been tainted with whiskey.

Pope followed you with his eyes. So did JJ, from beneath the messy blond strands barely held back by his cap. The alcohol made him more aware—his body pulsing strangely with a feeling he couldn’t name. The sensation that you were slipping away.

He poured himself another drink. To forget. Again. Always.

@moonywhisp3rs

Another with Rafe : 1 2 Or with JJ : 1 2 3 4

[mermaidsirennikita]

i hate how mainsteam fanfiction has gotten...why am i seeing acticles from vulture discussing fanfiction...why are people selling and buying fanfiction bound like books...why are people talking about and recommending fanfiction like they're books...why is more and more fanfiction getting published and those books getting turned into films...don't get me wrong i love fanfiction i still read it actively but there used to be a seperation of church and state as it were and now that seems to be gone

I think there's a real issue rising with regards to fanfic in which it is losing its main purpose, which is to entertain without serious criticism, because why would you apply serious critique to something that is simply made for fun and for (and this is important) NO. MONEY.

And a lot of it is written by! Minors!

I haven't written fanfic in 10+ years at this point, and I did write MOST of the fic I wrote (which isn't a lot) as a minor. It's far from my best work, and I wouldn't want to be judged on it the way I would want to be judged by work I publish as a professional author (and btw, I do hope to do that some day, and I do WRITE FOR MONEY RIGHT NOW, which means I am totally used to critique for things! I get paid! To do!).

I do have feelings about how we put fic on a pedestal, but I also genuinely think that we are fucking over fic authors (and to a lesser extent readers) when we're like "ooooh, look at this, so much better than anything published" and put some poor stranger's random lines on Twitter or Threads or whatever to be eaten up by the masses who do not read fic and don't know the etiquette. Because there are the people who uphold fic as Inherently Better, which I think is shitty, and there are people who would never admit that a beautifully written fic (and those exist) is beautifully written purely because it's fic, and will mock it to death. Which is also shitty.

The safe spaces are being destroyed and commodified, and sometimes the authors of the fic are complicit, and sometimes they're being used by people who commodify their fics without their permission through unauthorized book binds for sale, etc. A quick search on Etsy reveals dozens of Manacled binds, merch with fic quotes, etc. And while the author of that fic wouldn't be able to legally authorize that anyway because IT IS A FIC, I know for a fact that they wouldn't even have done this covertly because they have rewritten and sold Manacled as a book.

(And I also think that conversely, there is some gross dismissal of authors who begin with fic-to-books, because when that is done properly, there is a lot of work that goes into transforming the work. There is editing, there is critique, and I think you can see a lot of growth from authors who've been in the game for a while. Christina Lauren started out with a Twilight fic to book, and they've transformed their style MASSIVELY over time. Ali Hazelwood is really shifting in a big way. Do all authors put this work in? No. But to brush these uniformly off as if there isn't work and originality is... bleh.)

I'll be honest, I find it to be a real turn-off when Bookstagrammers recommend fics as books. Literally, I see them refer to them as "books". They're not. They're fics. There is nothing wrong with them being fics. That is still an art form. But it is a different art form, and it should be respected as that, and books should be respected for what they are.

I also want to add that for a lot of young fic authors especially, fic acts as training wheels. It was that for me. I wrote fic when I was a baby. Literally like, 12 and using a fake name online to avoid predators lol. And I wrote fic for historical shows when I was a bit older (but still quite young) because I was interested in writing historical fiction at that time (and I still am, but on the historical romance bent) and I was deliberately playing in a safe space where I felt I could experiment without having to do the heavy lifting that a historical fiction author often does. I could familiarize myself with the Vibe while playing in an existing world where readers knew the rules and I didn't have to sift through biographies and academic resources if I didn't want to. I didn't know how to do that! I hadn't been to college! I was a teenager!

It feels like that capacity for experimentation is being taken away as it's commodified. And frankly, we're also drifting into some pretty murky legal waters with some of this stuff, and like. I don't know. Ethics of marketing anything off the back of the monster that is JKR aside, is it really that *safe* for publishers to be using Dramione to market Dramione-fics-to-books when the author is an extremely wealthy loose cannon who could sniff the wrong mold and let loose some lawyers at any time? I don't know. Stephenie Meyer decided not to do anything (publicly) to address 50 Shades back in the day, but a lot of legit sources indicated that she considered it.

I just think that we're basically seeing fic fall into the world of capitalism, and while that's not something that NEVER HAPPENED before (again, Twifics were converted to books way before BookTok and Reylo books and Dramione books and so on) it's way bigger now, and I don't think it's good.

Also: This isn't even getting into the ethics of RPF, like the 1D fics, the Taylor Swift fics (I.... can't handle Taylor lyrics as book titles, and while I don't super care for her, I do think that's very much an invasion and not something I would intentionally do as a writer, sorry) and so on. I have read sapphic books that I'm fairly certain had TSwift inspo, and some of them were good books! And I actively try to promote sapphic books because they're underrepresented in the genre! But I won't lie, I feel kind of weird about those books sometimes because? Yeah, I see the blatant Taylor inspo, and I know that she's expressed discomfort with that, and specifically the Gaylor speculation.

Again, really don't want to sound anti-fic here. I think that fic, in its purest form, is great. (Okay, I do think RPF fic is weird, but I'm not gonna look at the 12-year-olds who wrote 1D imagines back in the day with a harsh eye because... we do things when we're 12.) But dude, it has GOT to be its own thing.

[vinjaryou]

As I said earlier, I feel like Tifa relates to Fenrir for the Odin-themed anniversary event currently running in Ever Crisis. I have heard say that she could be a representation of Freya; I've also heard "lol, she's just a slutty cat-girl," to which I ask "why do you hate strong women?"

Tifa is Fenrir for this, as she is ultimately the one Odin would fear most - Fenrir is the one who kills Odin during Ragnarök, after all.

Fenrir is one of Loki's children, and one the gods raised themselves in order to keep him under control lest he wreak havoc around the Nine Realms... but he ended up growing far too large and powerful for them and he was eventually chained up. Relating this back to Tifa, her father raised her as a single parent when her mother passed, with the young girl growing up faster than Brian would've cared for, ultimately running off to try and find her mother in Mt. Nibel. Once she awoke from the fall, Brian tried to keep her close to home, and the boys in town wanted to protect her (despite her being capable enough already of defending herself), up until she met Zangan, training under him and ending up one of his best and strongest students.

Ultimately breaking the chains was when Tifa willingly guided the ill-fated Nibleheim SOLDIERs and grunts through the mountains and to the mako reactor nestled within Mt. Nibel. Biting the hand off Tÿr* could be symbolized (in a sense) of her taking Sephiroth's discarded Masamune to confront him once she found Brian's body - only to be cut down by Sephiroth and mortally wounded.

Fenrir's chains were then bound to stone, a sword placed between the wolf's jaws, where he was fated to stay until the oncoming of Ragnarök.

Tifa was brought to Midgar to be tended to after Nibelheim burned down, and then was bound to the infirmary via her unpaid debts, forced to work them off while knowing the ones who destroyed her hometown still reigned free over her. It was only when she met Jessie, then Barret, Marlene, and Marle, that she gained the strength to break free of her bounds, find her new path,and ultimately be set on the road to Midgar's own Ragnarök in a sense - Sephiroth, the destruction of Shinra, and Meteor as a whole.

Rufus attempted to have her killed to make her an "example" to anyone who stood in his way; she broke free, ran to meet up with the rest of AVALANCHE, and ends up knocking Scarlett off the Sister Ray before leaping to her freedom once more, continuing the fight.

And then we have Doomsday ~24 hours remaining~ - aka, Ragnarök. Meteor is closing in. During the Supernova attack, we watch as Sephiroth destroys the solar system.

In Ragnarök, Loki's children, among others, begin their attack against Odin and the gods. The moon and sun are swallowed up, the stars vanish from the sky (aka Supernova), the earth shakes, and Fenrir's binds are broken.

AVALANCHE is fighting back.

Fenrir goes right for Odin, swallowing him whole and killing him.

Tifa and AVALANCHE kill Safer Sephiroth, while Cloud finishes him off in the final, internal attack.

If we continue on with it, Fenrir is then killed by Odin's son Vidar - one could see this interpreted as the collision of Meteor into the Lifestream sending Tifa plummeting to certain death... until Cloud saves her.

Tifa is given the Gauntlet/Claw of the Worthy, an embodiment of bloody wolf's claws. Granted, her outfit is rather scant in terms of actual armor - part of this is due to the fact that Ever Crisis is a gacha, Tifa prints money, and she is considered a sex symbol. But to discount it as nothing more than a "lol slutty cat outfit" is to discount her strength of character, and the utter fear Odin would have of her to separate her from the others.

Alone? She is strong, but she is also unsure, as shown when she was initially thrown off by the fiends before the bridge to Mt. Nibel. She fought them off, found strength in the memory of her fallen friends (Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie), and went to a place she knew would bring her safety - the mako spring of Mt. Nibel...

...where she is about to meet the others (in Norse mythology, her "siblings" Hel and Jörmungandr, aka Vincent and Sephiroth), and ultimately take down Odin for their own Ragnarök, so that they can all return to their friends and reality.

*Also, a little fun fact - the one Tÿr ultimately falls to during the events of Ragnarök? Hel's hound, Garm~