#lifestyle news inquirer

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

The Cat Burglar's Heist (M)

★ PAIRING: Ceo!Jaehyun x Cat Burglar! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 19.6k (sorry TT)

★ GENRE(S): Fluff, smut, angst, drama, strangers to lovers.

☆ SUMMARY: When you attempt to rob a wealthy businessman, things don't go as planned. Instead of calling the police, he offers you a job. Now, you're left uncertain about whether you can truly start anew or if your past will come back to haunt you.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: explicit sex, unprotected sex, minor character death, loneliness, theft

☆★ NOTES: probably gonna be my last fic for awhile so enjoy!

People might call you a pickpocket, a burglar, a larcenist, or a simple thief. Whatever the label, it didn’t matter to you; you always slipped away unnoticed. You never hit the same neighborhood twice, always staying light on your feet and never lingering too long in one place. There was only one rule you lived by.

Don't Get Caught.

Maintaining a low profile was essential whenever you scouted a new neighborhood. As the sun beat down, you strolled through the area with a dog at your side, scanning for the easiest target. The shades you wore partially concealed your identity while shielding your eyes from the scorching sun. Your friend’s dog trotted happily beside you, blissfully unaware of the role it played in your plan. If your friend found out you were using his beloved pet as cover for your schemes, he would kill you. You had to keep this under wraps—after all, your friends were all you had. Stealing was the only way you could keep pace with the lifestyle your friend enjoyed.

You refused to be left behind, so the money you made from stealing became your lifeline for fitting in. Each successful job meant another night out, another round of drinks, and another chance to blend seamlessly into your friend group’s lavish lifestyle. You had built your world around them, and you’d do anything to keep up appearances, even if it meant walking a dangerous line.

Daegal fit right in with the neighborhood, his designer leash and collar catching the sunlight. You wandered deeper into one of the city's wealthiest enclaves, surrounded by towering trees that served as natural barriers for the sprawling estates. Luxury cars glimmered in driveways, while some homes flaunted their riches with intricate architectural designs that spoke of unspoken fortunes.

As you walked, Daegal suddenly slowed his pace, his nose twitching at the approaching scent of another dog. You felt your palms grow clammy around the leash; the fewer people who noticed you, the better. You were keenly aware of the risks, and any unwanted attention could spell trouble.

The older lady, her silver hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, approached with her fluffy Pomeranian in tow. A wave and a smile erupted from her, directed toward Daegal, and you cursed under your breath. The last thing you needed was a conversation.

The two dogs tilted their heads, inspecting one another with the calm demeanor that only well-trained pets possess. You could feel her gaze on you, and you forced a tight smile onto your face, betraying none of your rising anxiety.

Wonderful!

"He's so cute! What's his name?" you ask politely, forcing a bright smile.

"His name is Prince, but the kids call him Pudding," the older woman replies with a hearty laugh.

You let a small chuckle escape your lips. "How adorable!"

"And what about this handsome fella?" she inquires, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“His name?” Your mind races, almost short-circuiting. "He's… Fluffy!” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and convincing.

You know rich people have more connections than they do money, and there's a good chance she could be linked to your friend Chenle somewhere down the line. It’s safer to spin a little tale.

"Well, he's quite the charmer! I'm sure he’s brought you many joys," she continues, obliviously cheerful, while tension coils tighter in your veins. “It’s a pleasure to have you in the neighborhood! Someone as young and pretty as you would fit right in!” Her compliment catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly at her kind words.

“Thanks!” you reply quickly, hoping to deflect attention from the flush creeping up your face. "I love it here."

She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, about a month ago, this really young CEO moved in just a block down. He's a bit too young for me, but my goodness, he’s quite the sight," she said, laughing heartily as she swatted her hand playfully, as if sharing a scandalous secret.

Rich people thrived on gossip, and you realized you didn't have to say much for her to fill you in on exactly what you wanted to know.

"A man like that has to be tied down, right?" you asked, bending down to pet her dog.

"From what I’ve heard, he lives alone," she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Apparently, he works all the time. Word is, he comes home late every night. My husband says he drives an Aston Martin."

Bingo

"Thanks for the heads-up about the neighborhood hottie, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now," you joked, lightly chuckling to keep the conversation light. Just then, Daegal began to fidget, sensing your restlessness, and you took it as your cue to leave. "I’ll see you around, okay?"

As you walked a block down, your heart raced when you spotted a sleek black Aston Martin parked in a long driveway. The houses in this neighborhood were enormous. Although the properties weren’t far apart; the homes were set back from the road, mostly hidden by towering trees that provided an extra layer of privacy.

A young CEO who lives alone and works late.

You mentally sifted through the details you had gleaned from your earlier conversation. He was the perfect target.

Rich people were easy targets. Their homes, adorned with elaborate security measures, falsely reassured them of safety; all it did was signal that they had something worth taking. The flashy yard signs proclaiming "This home is under surveillance by _" told you their security company, which then told you the equipment they used. It wasn't hard to figure out how to disable it from there.

It had been a week since you first gathered your intel. Through careful observation, you had mapped out a schedule for when the house was empty and discovered how to bypass the alarm system. You’d managed to catch glimpses of the homeowner from a distance. The rumors were true; he carried himself with a confidence that only added to his undeniable charm.

Tonight was the night you would make your move. Clad in a black hoodie and sweatpants, you pull your bag over your shoulder and approach the perimeter of the house. Your heart was racing with adrenaline. You navigated the landscape smoothly, well aware of the blind spots in the security cameras. Timing was critical; every second counted.

You pressed yourself against the side of the window, heart pounding as you carefully peeked through the curtain. The green light on the alarm system by the door confirmed it wasn’t armed. This was a stroke of luck. According to your calculations, he should still be at work, and it appeared he had rushed out without arming the system.

You hesitated briefly, knowing this part was your least favorite. Breaking a window was always an awkward and potentially noisy affair. No matter how silent you tried to be, it was impossible to avoid the sound entirely. Taking a deep breath, you picked up a nearby rock, and with a swift, calculated strike, you shattered the glass.

The clatter echoed in the stillness, sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins, but you quickly reminded yourself to keep moving. You reached inside and unlocked the window, then climbed through carefully, stepping over the brittle shards that crunched beneath your feet as they scattered onto the plush carpet.

You found yourself in an open den, its decor exuding wealth and taste. Valuable paintings adorned the walls—masterpieces, maybe—but nothing small enough to pocket. You needed to keep going, focusing on finding something worthwhile.

Peeking your head out of the room, you scanned the hallway. Silence enveloped the house, amplifying the sound of your racing heartbeat. No sign of any pets, which was a relief. You made your way toward the primary areas, passing under the large winding staircase that commanded attention in the center of the home.

The layout seemed to follow suit with luxury; hallways branched off to what you assumed were the kitchen and living spaces. The primary room was likely upstairs, but there were many drawers and cabinets you could check on this level. Eager to find where the real valuables might be stashed, you decided to take a brief look around before venturing up the staircase. You shuffled quietly down the hall.

You glanced into a few rooms—one vast space was styled as a study, filled with leather-bound books and expensive-looking gadgets. A quick search through the drawers revealed a few electronic devices you could easily pocket. Moving on, you turned towards the kitchen, where gleaming countertops hinted at a lifestyle of lavish dinners and entertaining guests.

You couldn’t imagine why he would ever need a home this large if he lived alone; the sprawling floor plan was almost excessive. Each room you passed seemed to hold its own story, yet they stood untouched, as if waiting for guests that would never arrive. The formal dining room sported an enormous mahogany table, set for a feast that would never happen, and the living room boasted a grand piano that echoed a silent invitation to a party long forgotten. The atmosphere felt eerie, the elaborate decor clashing with the emptiness—like a stage set for a play that had never opened.

Your eyes darted toward the staircase. The rich wooden banister glimmered in the ambient light, inviting you to explore the secrets that lay above. You took a deep breath and ascended carefully. As you reached the landing, you spotted a door at the end of the hallway slightly ajar, the flicker of a light spilling into the dim corridor.

When you enter the room, the sweet aroma of cologne lingered in the air like a ghost, a faint reminder of its owner. The sheer magnitude of the space left you speechless. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you forward to the side tables flanking the expansive bed. There, you quickly spotted a discarded high-end watch, its polished surface glimmering in the light. Alongside it lay a selection of intricate rings, each one whispering tales of luxury and allure.

As you rifled through the drawers, your fingers brushed against something solid—a wallet. You opened it, and your eyes immediately fell on the ID card nestled inside.

Jung Jaehyun 02/14/1997

Beneath the ID, you found a stack of credit cards and a few loose bills, all waiting to be claimed. You quickly slipped the wallet into your pocket. You approached the closet, and a gasp escaped your lips as the sight hit you—it resembled a mini-designer store. Expensive shoes, luxurious clothes, and shimmering jewelry lined the walls and shelves, all begging to be claimed. You wasted no time, swiftly swiping rings, watches, chains, and even a pair of stunning shoes, each item adding to the growing bounty in your backpack.

As you rummaged through the treasures, something caught your eye: a safe tucked behind a row of suits. Intrigued, you pushed the garments aside to inspect the lock. Cracking your neck, you glanced at the time—plenty of hours remained before he would return.

Just then, you heard footsteps outside the closet, and your heart dropped. You instinctively moved to hide behind the rack of suits, heart pounding in your ears.

“What the fuck?” A voice sliced through the silence, unmistakably belonging to the man you had been eyeing all week.

You held your breath, peering through the fabric. The hope flickered that he might just turn away and call the police, giving you a chance to slip out unnoticed. But instead, he stepped further into the closet, and your heart raced as you caught your first glimpse of him up close..

His hair glistened with moisture, and he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still cascading down his skin, the steam from his shower enveloping him like a shroud. You had never seen him this close before, and the image was seared into your memory. He looked as if he had been sculpted from stone by the most masterful artist, every muscle defined, every feature striking.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the chaos—the discarded clothes on the floor, the missing racks of jewelry, the disarray of his closet. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips, and just as he seemed ready to turn away and leave, his gaze locked onto your hiding spot.

A jolt of panic shot through you, and you instinctively jumped back, trying to press yourself further into the fabric of the clothes. You held your breath, heart racing, as he took a step closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It was a moment of vulnerability and danger, a breathless standoff between the two of you.

Don't get caught

His steps were cautious as he approached, each footfall echoing in the silence of the closet. One hand gripped his towel tightly, clearly trying to maintain his modesty, while the other reached out hesitantly toward the clothes.

If it came to it, you knew you would have to fight him off and make a run for it, but with each passing second, you realized just how difficult that would be. He was built solidly and his height towered over you, casting an imposing shadow.

What if he got his hands on you? The thought sent a wave of dread through you. There would be no escaping him then.

Fuck

In a surge of adrenaline, you dashed out from your hiding spot, heart racing. His eyes widen in surprise as you rush past him, but the exhilaration of your escape was short-lived. Just a few feet away, you felt a sudden tug on your backpack that yanked you backwards.

You hit the floor with a thud, groaning as the impact jolted through you. Before you could recover, you felt a strong grip pinning you down, his hand firm against your shoulders. Panic set in, and you thrashed against his hold, fighting to break free, but he was unyielding.

As your struggle continued, exhaustion began to creep in. The fight drained from you, and you finally stopped, staring up at the man who had you pinned beneath him. His wet hair hung down over you, droplets cascading down onto your face.. His stern eyes bore into yours—there was an intensity that made your breath hitch, a mix of disbelief and something else entirely.

"Let me go!" you demanded, though your voice came out weaker than you intended. If it weren't for the predicament you found yourself in, you would have been unable to stop your wandering eyes. The towel around his waist was precariously close to slipping, a detail that, in ordinary circumstances, might have made you blush. But now, survival instincts prevailed over all else.

“If you try to run, I’ll call the cops,” he said matter-of-factly, and the gravity of his threat sent a chill down your spine.

A beat passed, your heart pounding in your chest, and finally, you nodded, conceding to the reality of the situation. There was no escape now; he had you right where he wanted you.

He released his grip on you and pulled himself off the floor, adjusting his towel. “Back to the closet, now,” he commanded, and you shuffled reluctantly back into the space that had formerly felt enticing but was now suffocating.

As you stepped in, you found yourself standing in front of the center island, where the glimmer of jewels had once laid. He followed you, shutting the door behind him, his body leaning against it like a barrier between you and freedom.

“Is everything you took in that bag?” He asked, his tone even, but there was an undertone of curiosity mixed with authority.

With a heavy heart, you hung your head and nodded, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and placing it on the floor in front of you. You could almost feel the weight of the stolen items pressing down on your conscience. You'd had visions of making thousands selling his valuables, the thrill of your heist driving you forward. But now, in the dim light of the closet, remorse washed over you like a tide.

“I’m really sorry, I—” you started, the words stumbling from your lips. What could you possibly say in a situation like this? Sorry, I almost stole a fortune from you? It felt absurd, but you didn't know how to express the chaos swirling within you.

He moved closer, looming over you as his intent gaze seemed to dissect every part of your being. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt small beneath his scrutiny. When he reached down, you thought he was about to pick up his possessions. But instead, he grabbed a discarded pair of sweats, and you felt a rush of a different kind of embarrassment as he stood up straight, his towel dropping to the ground. You instinctively looked away, sparing him what felt like an invasion of privacy.

Once he was dressed, he stepped back out of the closet, leaving you with a mix of relief and confusion. "Straighten this up, then come see me. Bring that bag and everything you tried to take with you," he ordered.

You swallowed hard. “Where are you going? Are you going to call the cops?”

Your mind raced with possibilities—how clever would he be if he made you tidy up while the police were on their way?

“Do as I say and you will have nothing to worry about," he replied, and there was an edge to his voice. "I don't like messes; clean that up before I change my mind."

Frustration mingled with a strange sense of gratitude. You were infuriated that he was ordering you around like a subordinate, yet the alternative—a police record—loomed much larger in your mind. Why wasn’t he calling the cops?

Taking a deep breath, you began to survey the mess you had made in your frantic attempt to bag his stuff.

It took you at least an hour to set everything back in its rightful place. You meticulously reorganized the jewelry, aligning necklaces and bracelets, smoothing over the disarray you'd caused. You busied yourself with invisible tasks afterward, finding solace in the repetitive act of pretending to straighten his shoes for the fifth time. Avoiding the inevitable confrontation with him was becoming a game of denial.

“I know you’re done; come here,” he commanded, and you froze for a moment. Biting your lip to gather your thoughts, you hesitantly grabbed your bag and stepped out into his room. He was seated on the massive California king bed, an imposing figure that radiated a mix of authority and casual dominance. Leaning back against his hands, he looked every bit like a king surveying his domain, and the sight sent a fresh wave of nerves through you.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but again, I’m really sorry,” you said, forcing the words out as you handed him the bag.

He took the bag from your grasp without much acknowledgment, his focus elsewhere. “Sit down,” he instructed.

You shifted uncomfortably, the anxiety bubbling to the surface. What more could he possibly want from you? He had said he would let you go, hadn’t he? “Sit where?” You looked around the spacious room, taking in the lack of chairs or any other furniture that might serve as a place for you to perch.

He finally lifted his gaze, his hair still damp from the shower, falling into his eyes. “Sit on your knees, right there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him.

You bristled at the command, a mix of confusion and indignation flooding through you. Kneeling before him felt like a submission you had not anticipated, and despite the gravity of your earlier actions, you hesitated to comply with his demands.

“I—" you stammered, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out that didn't sound foolish or defiant.

Seeing your hesitation, his expression shifted slightly, a mixture of patience and something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. "You can either sit down like I asked, or we can have a much longer discussion about how this is going to go," he suggested, his tone low but firm, setting the stage for whatever decision you had to make next.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the floor, feeling the cool surface beneath your knees, and looked up at him, preparing for whatever was to come next.

He reached behind him and pulled out his phone, an unmistakable sense of dread washing over you as he dug into your bag, retrieving the stolen items one by one. Each piece felt like another nail in your coffin.

He was definitely calling the cops TT

But instead of pressing the call button, he seemed to be calculating something. “$532,724,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your throat tightened at the reality of that number. You were going to jail. Panic bubbled in your chest, and you fought the urge to cry.

He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident on his face. “Let’s see how well you clean up,” he said, standing up and ushering you back toward the closet with a wave of his hand.

You stared at him, your heart pounding as his eyes scanned the confines of the closet where you'd made sure to return everything to its original place. His expression was unreadable at first, a blank canvas that made fear swirl in your stomach. But then it softened, surprising you further.

“Not bad. What’s your name?” He asked, his tone almost casual.

You swallowed hard before nervously answering, “Y/N.”

“How would you like a job, Y/N?”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your jaw dropped in disbelief. This had to be a sick joke. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following,” you stammered, incredulous.

“You will work for me to pay off the debt that you owe,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait, I didn’t actually take anything!” You argued, your mind racing to process his proposal.

“But you tried,” he shrugged, his casual demeanor shifting to something more serious. “It’s about principle. You made a choice, and now you have to make it right.”

“Are you seriously saying I have to work for you to pay off half a million dollars?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mix of indignation and disbelief gripping you.

“I could always call the police,” he said lightly, but the weight of his words sunk in with more gravity than you expected.

“Whoa now, no one said I wouldn't help,” you laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood but failing to shake the anxiety coiling within you.

“Great! You start tomorrow. Come in business attire,” he said with a yawn, as if he were sending you off to a regular job rather than a complicated arrangement born out of desperation.

You turned to follow him out, not sure why you're trying so hard to argue him down “Wait, wha—”

Suddenly, a bright flash burst in front of you, and you stumbled backward, temporarily blinded. You blink a few times, trying to regain your bearings. “Ow! What was that for?” you exclaimed, rubbing your eyes.

He smirked as he lowered his phone, the camera still pointed at you. “If you try to run, I’ll post this picture online and tell the world what you’ve done. Then I’ll hand it over to the police so they can track you down.” His gaze was icy as he scrutinized you, taking in every detail. “I have the resources to find you. Don’t make me have to look for you.”

You felt a mix of anger and fear bubble up inside you. “So you’re blackmailing me?” you huff.

“I’m giving you a second chance,” he corrected, his tone slipping back into that unsettling calmness. He stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with a surprisingly firm grip. “8 a.m. tomorrow. Now get out.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a gentle push by your shoulders, urging you toward the staircase. You stumbled slightly but regained your footing. As you made your way down the stairs and out of his house, Your circumstances settled squarely on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a thief of your freedom; he was now your employer, your keeper—at least for the foreseeable future.

He walked with you to the front door, his face a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Just as he was about to close the door in your face, he paused and turned back. “How did you get in?” he quirked a brow.

A small, nervous smile crept onto your lips as you fumbled for an explanation. “Uh, I broke a window,” you admitted.

Jaehyun regards you with an unimpressed stare.

“I’ll clean it up tomorrow!” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “Heh… add it to my bill?”

The door slammed shut in your face, the sound echoing in the cool night air. You turned away from the door and took a few steps down the front path, your mind racing.

The situation was certainly absurd.

—

You roll out of bed at 6 a.m. with a groan, the early morning light cutting through your curtains. You’ve never been a morning person, and the thought of facing the day fills you with dread. After washing up, you slip into an outfit that fits the dress code he set for you—a blend of professional and approachable that feels foreign against your skin.

As you glance at your reflection in the mirror, a fleeting thought crosses your mind: what if you just ran away? With the money you’ve saved up, you could leave everything behind and start anew.

Dont make me find you.

His words echo ominously in your head, sending a shiver down your spine. Jaehyun was an enigma; you could hardly wrap your mind around him, but one thing was clear: he had the resources to track you down, wherever you might try to escape.

You gather your things and head out. When you finally arrive and buzz through the gate surrounding his property, it feels surreal to be walking through the front door. Just a day ago, you’d been climbing over his fence and breaking windows—now you were entering as if you belonged.

As Jaehyun lets you inside, you take in the surroundings anew. The sunlight floods the foyer of his mansion, revealing the space you'd barely noticed in your previous haste.

“Stop gawking. I’ll be back down in a bit; I need to finish getting ready. Go clean up the glass you broke,” he commands coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he strides back upstairs. His words and the task ahead settle over you as you prepare to face the mess you made, both physically and metaphorically.

“StOp GawKinG….gO CleAn Up thA GlasS,” you mumble under your breath when he’s out of earshot.

You roll your eyes at his cold demeanor, dismissing it as you head toward the den where you had sneaked in during your last visit. Peeking into the room, you’re greeted by a messy carpet littered with shards of glass. At least the window has been boarded up now. As the daylight streams in, you start to appreciate the paintings that line the walls, each one vibrant and expressive in its own right.

One piece catches your attention more than the others—a striking red canvas that emanates an intense energy. The angry strokes twist together in a way that’s both chaotic and mesmerizing, leaving you to ponder what the artist was trying to convey. As you peer closely, you can’t help but notice the name “Jung Jaehyun” inked subtly in one corner. Your gaze travels around the room, noticing the easel and paints tucked away in the corner; it dawns on you that this isn’t just a display but his workspace. The hard wood beneath your feet breaks the carpeted expanse, revealing about a third of the room transformed into an art studio. Impressed by his talent, you find yourself captivated, the earlier tension momentarily forgotten as you admire the skill behind the chaos.

You shake yourself out of the trance, the allure of the art momentarily fading as you remind yourself of your task. You need to find a vacuum and a trash bin—cleaning up that glass is a priority. Determined, you set off through the rest of the house.

You remember stumbling upon the cleaning closet during your earlier escapades, and you make your way back to it. As you wander, a sense of loneliness hangs in the air, and your suspicions about Jaehyun’s solitary lifestyle only deepen. There was no waitstaff, no other residents—just him in this grand mansion.

You finally locate the vacuum in the cleaning closet, and with the trash bin in hand, you retrace your steps back to the art studio. You kneel on the floor, methodically clean up the shards of glass and place the larger pieces into the bin. You finish cleaning just in time for Jaehyun to come back downstairs.

He fixes the cufflinks on his suit before grabbing his keys. “What else should I tidy up for you? Is there a list somewhere?” You ask.

Jaehyun gives you a puzzled look. “You’re coming with me,” he replies.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “I thought I was…" You trail off.

He lets out a laugh, one that surprises you—it's light and genuine, completely at odds with his usual demeanor. His eyes crinkle up, revealing warm dimples that you find surprisingly charming in that moment. “You thought you were going to be doing housework?”

You roll your eyes. “Well, what else is there for me to do?”

His expression becomes more serious, though the hint of a playful smile still lingers. “I said I had a job for you, and I meant it. Come on.” He opens the door for you, locking the house behind him with a click.

As you both walk toward his car, you can’t help but ask, “Where was your car yesterday?” Strapping yourself in, you feel a mix of bitterness and curiosity about how you ended up getting caught snooping—you really should have paid more attention. If his car had been parked outside, you’d have known he was home.

“It was in the shop,” he replies casually, turning the key in the ignition. “I needed new rims. Have you eaten yet?”

Your stomach growls audibly, and you nod in agreement and Jaehyun stops to get breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked biscuits fills the car as he orders.

As he goes to pay, you watch him rummage through his pockets, brow furrowing in frustration. It’s then that you feel a pang of guilt. You had meant to return his wallet, found tucked away in your pocket after your first encounter. Nervously, you pull it out and offer it to him, trying to lighten the moment. “Whoops, how’d that get in there?” You joke lightly, but when you glance up, you notice the glare he’s giving you.

“Seriously?” he replies.

You stutter out an apology as you take a cautious bite of your biscuit, almost choking when you see where he’s pulled into next. Your eyes widen as you take in the imposing tall building—it’s sleek and modern, with huge glass windows reflecting the bustling streets of downtown. The heart of the city is alive, and your heart races with both excitement and nerves.

Jaehyun turns to you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Surprised? I did say I had a job for you.”

“Uh, I thought we were just going to tidy up at home?” you say, trying to mask your nerves.

As you walk through the lobby beside Jaehyun, you can't help but notice the stares that follow you. Heads turn, whispers flit around as employees greet him warmly. "Good morning, Mr. Jung!" They say, beaming at him with admiration. When their gaze finally shifts to you, you catch a mix of confusion and curiosity on their faces. It’s both flattering and mildly embarrassing standing next to someone so well-regarded and polished. You try to maintain your composure, forcing a smile in response, even as you feel a bit out of place.

After navigating through the maze of cubicles and glass-walled offices, you finally enter Jaehyun's office—spacious, elegantly designed, with a view that overlooks the bustling city streets. The decor is smart and sophisticated, reflecting his professional persona. Once the door clicks shut behind you, Jaehyun makes his way over to his desk to settle into for the day.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looks at you with a serious expression. “You’re going to be my secretary,” he states plainly.

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait, what? A secretary?” The idea is almost absurd. “Isn’t that a bit… much? I mean, you do realize I’m not exactly qualified for that, right?”

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Plus, it’ll pay way better than doing house chores.”

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, letting determination creep in. “Whats there to lose?”

—

Being Jaehyun's secretary meant answering his calls, scheduling meetings, and running errands. Of course you could do those tasks… you just couldn't do them well.

A little desk had been set up in Jaehyun's office, where most of your day-to-day tasks took place. His office boasted expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. At night, the bustling streets below transformed into a magical landscape, with streetlights, headlights, and stoplights twinkling like stars.

You couldn’t help but blame the close proximity of your workspaces for your increasing difficulty with even the simplest tasks, like getting his coffee order right.

You had brought him his morning coffee, like he asked. You still hadn't gotten used to running his errands in his car. You felt so out of place at the office and the whispers and curious glances from your “coworkers” only heightened your anxiety.

When you finally brought him the morning coffee he had requested, your heart raced with hope for approval. But as he took a sip, his focus remained elsewhere, and he set the cup down without meeting your eyes. “It’s wrong, but you’ll get it right next time,” he said, casually brushing off your mistake. “There's plenty of time for you to improve.”

You bit your lip, anxious to prove that you could handle this role. You didn’t want to be seen as a screw-up, but everything felt overwhelming lately. Jaehyun shoos you away, giving you a task to retrieve printed papers from the printer. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts as you returned, but when you stumbled slightly, you fumbled the stack of papers in your hands.

As the papers fall from your grasp, you accidentally knock over a coffee cup, sending the contents spilling across the desk. The dark liquid splashed over papers, pooling on the surface.

Heart racing, you froze, staring at the mess you had just created. “Oh no!” you exclaimed, scrambling to grab napkins from the nearby drawer, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Just breathe,” he said, reaching over to help you clean up the spill. “How do you call yourself a cat burglar with how clumsy you are?” Jaehyun asked, the bemused look on his face suggesting he genuinely wanted to know.

The napkins did little to absorb the liquid, and you could feel the heat seeping through, burning your fingertips. You let out a small wince, instinctively pulling your hand back. Jaehyun sighed at your reaction, and you flicked your wrist in an attempt to shake off the pain while still trying to contain the mess.

“Just hold on,” you muttered to yourself, picking up his laptop and elevating it to protect it from the potential disaster. The last thing you needed was to add an expensive repair bill to the debt you already owed him.

As you awkwardly juggled multiple items that had once laid neatly on his desk, trying to salvage the situation, you suddenly noticed Jaehyun stand up. He took off his suit jacket and, before you could protest, he used it to mop up the spilled coffee.

You gasped as the coffee splashed onto his jacket, but Jaehyun seemed completely unfazed. With purposeful strides, he walked over to you and gently took the items you were juggling, placing them down safely on a part of his desk that wasn’t sticky. Without a word, he grasped your hands, examining your fingers, which were twitching from the pain and already showing signs of red irritation from the hot liquid.

He blew softly on your fingertips, and for a moment, the world around you faded as you met his gaze. The warmth in his chocolate depths almost pulled you in, but before you could lose yourself in that moment, you quickly pulled away.

“I’ll go grab a towel. That’s going to make the wood sticky,” you stammered, turning quickly to leave, your cheeks burning from the tension that hung between you.

You hurried to the bathroom, running cool water over your fingers to soothe the slight burn. Leaning against the edge of the sink, you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. After a moment, you gathered a few items from the cleaning closet, bracing yourself for what lay ahead.

As you walked back, you passed the break room and inadvertently overheard a conversation that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“She’s probably sleeping with him. Mr. Jung has never taken on a secretary before,” one voice whispered.

“That’s what I heard. Not to mention she’s terrible at her job. She just gets in the way. Last week she accidentally printed 300 copies of a page because she didn’t know to hit the cancel button! We ran out of ink because of her, and now I have to go downstairs for my copies until a new order comes in!” another voice chimed in, laced with irritation.

You bristled at their accusations, knowing they were talking about you. It stung, but you pressed on, scurrying past and heading back to Jaehyun’s office. After giving a soft knock, you stepped inside.

Jaehyun had moved away from his desk, now seated on the couch in the corner of his office. He was typing away on his computer, still nursing the little coffee he had left that you had brought him earlier—a cup you knew he didn’t like, judging by the face he made when he first tasted it. His sleeves were rolled up, the tie discarded on the armrest, and the first button of his shirt was undone.

You tried not to stare, focusing instead on the mess at his desk. Moving over, you began cleaning up the sticky residue left by the spilled coffee.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat. “Is it okay if I drop this off at the cleaners?” you asked, holding up his soiled jacket.

He didn’t look up from his screen, continuing to type away on his computer. “Go ahead, but please be careful,” he replied, pulling his keys from his pocket without sparing you a glance.

“That’s okay; I can just walk. There’s one not too far from here,” you said, attempting to dismiss the need to take his car.

Finally, he looked up at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “You never had a problem with driving my car before. Did something happen?” He asked, setting his laptop aside, his focus entirely on you.

“Well, no, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea. I mean, I just kinda showed up out of nowhere and suddenly I’m moving into your office and driving your car,” you tried to explain, feeling your anxiety spike. “No one knows why I’m really here, and I can only imagine the types of things people are imagining.”

“What kind of things could they be imagining?” He replied, staring at you blankly.

You laugh at the statement but when you realize he's not being sarcastic, your face drops. You often wonder what kind of person Jaehyun was and what he did for fun. He always seemed to be looking at the world for the first time.

"Well,” you began, gathering your thoughts. “Imagining the types of things I would’ve had to do to get this job,” you said, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

He waited quietly, eyes steady on you, prompting you to continue. “Things like sleeping with you to get this job,” you finally admitted, your heart racing as you vocalized the thought.

Jaehyun's eyes widened, and you noticed his ears reddening, making you wonder if he truly hadn’t known about the whispers circulating around the office. Clearing his throat, he seemed to collect himself.

“You don’t need to worry about things like that,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t want you being gone long. Take the car, and if anyone has something to say, they can come to me about it.”

His gaze was stern, the kind that made you feel as though challenging him would be futile. You could sense the protective edge in his words, and it surprised you. There was a part of you that appreciated his willingness to shield you from the gossip. “Okay, if you insist,” you replied, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. The gesture felt surprisingly comforting. “I’ll be quick.”

He seemed to relax a little at your compliance, his expression softening. “Thank you. And, uh, drive safely,” he added, almost shyly.

As you walked to the car, you found yourself reflecting on his words. Maybe it was time to focus on proving yourself here, to rise above the whispers and make your mark in the company. Regardless of how you came to be in this position, you were determined to show them—and yourself—that you were worth it.

—

Ever since that day, when you arrived at the office, the halls were silent, and no one stared at you and Jaehyun as you walked side by side.. The building buzzed along like usual. You were relieved. Your shoulders felt lighter in the absence of judgmental glances, and instinctively, you walked a little straighter, head held high, eyes forward rather than downcast.

As you entered Jaehyun's office, you set your things down at the little desk he had allotted for you, diving into your daily routine of answering emails and organizing his meetings. You found your rhythm quickly, the morning shift feeling productive as you ticked off tasks. The sound of your typing filled the room, creating a comforting background noise.

Halfway through the shift, you stretched your arms overhead, stifling a yawn. Out of curiosity, you peeked over at Jaehyun to see how he was faring. He had leaned back in his chair, his neatly combed hair falling over his closed eyes, looking surprisingly peaceful in the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the window. The light danced around him, illuminating his desk, and for a moment, you couldn't help but admire how beautiful he looked.

Even after a month of working together, you still didn't know much about Jaehyun's personal life. You had gone over the basics: he lived alone, was single, and kept his family life largely private. Each interaction left you with more questions than answers, and you found yourself scratching your head at the blank spaces in your understanding of him.

You assumed that the high-ranking position had simply been handed down to him—a legacy passed through generations. But you had never heard any whispers about a preceding CEO or what led Jaehyun to take the helm.

Amidst the riddles, the only one you had solved was his coffee order: a no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot, plus three drip coffees with room for milk. It was a peculiar detail to cling to, yet it felt like a small piece of Jaehyun you could call your own, a little insight he had unknowingly shared during your numerous morning coffee runs.

Your thoughts whirled as you watched him sleep, a wave of warmth washing over you. It was strange how quickly you had grown accustomed to his presence and how much you found yourself wanting to know about the man behind the polished façade. What did he do on weekends? What made him laugh? What were his dreams and aspirations beyond this office?

Suddenly, he’s awake and staring back at you, and you stop smiling, turning to busy yourself. You clear your throat. “You have a meeting at 3 PM,” you mention, making an excuse.

“Thank you,” he responds.

He yawns and cracks his neck before standing from his desk. “We should go grab something to eat before then.”

You don't expect him to take you halfway across town; normally, you just grab him something from the cafe down the street. A bit apprehensive, you worry about making it back on time with the traffic ahead.

Silence engulfs the car as it inches through the congestion. Jaehyun sits relaxed in his seat, his thumb tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel as he looks ahead. You decide to kill the time with some conversation.

“How do you manage living in that large house all by yourself?” you ask, trying to chip away at the silence.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat. “You get used to it, I suppose. It’s peaceful. Quiet.”

“Yeah, but don’t you ever feel lonely? I mean, it’s a huge place. I can’t imagine wandering through all those empty rooms.”

He pauses, eyes still on the road. “Loneliness is…relative. I find solace in my work. It distracts me.”

“But work can only fill so much, right? Everybody needs someone sometimes.”

“Not everyone has someone to lean on, A. Sometimes it’s easier to just…keep to yourself.” Jaehyun looks over.

“I get that. I guess I’ve been on my own for a while too. Never really had a stable family or anything. Just me and the streets.”

“So, what was it like? Living like that?” Jaehyun asks curiously.

“It was tough. You learn to be resourceful and to adapt. But it also gets exhausting.”

You had a rough upbringing; your parents were neglectful, and as soon as you turned 18, they kicked you out. You turned to the streets to get by, making connections with a few questionable figures, but they taught you what you needed to survive. Soon, you were taking care of yourself and hanging out with better crowds.

“Why don’t you talk about your family or friends? It feels like you’ve built up walls—like you’re living in that house, but you’re not really there,” you ask.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. “It’s complicated. I’ve lost people—friends, family… When you start at the top, it’s hard to trust anyone. Everyone has their own agenda.”

You wince slightly at his words; of course he didn’t open up to you. Trust issues are understandable, especially after you tried to rob him.

“Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith and give people a chance. You never know who they might turn out to be,” you suggest gently.

He pauses, letting your words linger in the air, before responding with a nod of acknowledgment. As traffic finally begins to move, you turn to look out the window, watching the world blur by.

Eventually, the car pulls into a cozy little bakery nestled on a side street. The overgrown greenery surrounding it gives the place a charming, almost hidden feel. A LED sign in the window brightens the words “Doughyoungs.” Stepping inside, a small bell chimes, and the delectable aroma of freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug. Your mouth waters as you glance around.

The bakery is empty, but it exudes warmth and invites you further in. The display case is filled with tempting treats: crusty artisan breads, flaky croissants, colorful macarons, decadent cakes, and an assortment of cookies. Your heart feels lighter in this space; it seems like a hidden gem, the kind of place that just might feel like home.

“BE RIGHT WITH YOU!” a voice calls from the back of the shop. A tall man in a flour-dusted apron steps into the front room, wiping his hands on the fabric, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, Jaehyun! It’s been a while!” He steps closer, his tone filled with a sense of familiarity. “You brought a friend?”

You glance at the man’s name tag—Doyoung. It clicks; he must be the owner of the bakery.

“Yeah, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Jaehyun introduces, gesturing toward you. “And Y/N, this is Doyoung. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“His only friend,” Doyoung corrects with a playful wink before extending his hand toward you. “Nice to meet you!”

The three of you settle down at a small, round table in the corner of “Doughyoung’s,” sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the inviting atmosphere. A warm plate of croissants sits in the center of the table as Doyoung pours steaming cups of coffee for you and Jaehyun.

You reach for a flaky croissant, the buttery aroma enveloping you. You’ve just met Doyoung, but your instant fondness for him grows as he recounts hilarious stories about Jaehyun, leaving you wiping a tear from the corner of your eye at one particularly embarrassing tale.

“How long have you two been friends?” you ask, still chuckling.

“We go way back to college,” Doyoung replies, a reminiscent smile on his face. “We were both fresh out of high school, and honestly, we couldn’t have been more different. He was this focused, ambitious guy trying to conquer the world, while I was just… well, trying to figure things out.”

You nod, picturing the difference between the two of them. “What about you?” Doyoung adds, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How did you manage to land such a serious guy as your boss?”

You stuff your mouth with croissants, desperately trying to think of an answer that isn’t a lie.

“Sorry to cut story time short, but I have a meeting at 3,” he says, finishing his coffee and rising to push in his chair. You follow suit, a little relieved that your escape has come so soon. Doyoung was kind and you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him, but you couldn't exactly tell him you had attempted to rob his best friend.

“It was really nice to meet you, Doyoung,” you wave goodbye, offering a genuine smile as you shuffle out after Jaehyun.

Doyoung smiles and waves as you leave, his infectious energy lingering in the air. The drive back is quiet, but this time, the silence feels different—more comfortable. The gentle hum of the engine and the sounds of the outside world fade into the background as you steal glances at Jaehyun, who remains focused on the road ahead.

—

Since you started working with Jaehyun, today was probably the first time that everything seemed to go your way. You even managed to finish your tasks early. As you straighten up your desk, gathering papers and tidying the space, you’re on your way out when he walks in, his expression curious.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, making his way toward his own desk.

“Yeah, I finished up early,” you reply, grabbing your bag. “I was just going to catch the bus home.”

He nods, pausing for a moment. “Did you organize that pile of paperwork I gave you?”

“All organized and labeled,” you confirm, a sense of pride swelling in your chest.

“What about that email I sent you to look over? Did you make sure everything was in order for that conference?”

“Done and scheduled,” you say, feeling accomplished.

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say something more, as if he’s searching for another reason to keep you there. “Well, if you’re finished, we can head out together,” he suggests, beginning to pack his briefcase.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a hint of hesitation in your voice. “If there’s something you need to finish up here, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I can finish it at home,” he replies, already standing and heading toward the door.

You share a brief glance, and there’s something in his demeanor that tells you he genuinely wants your company. You can’t help but smile as you follow him outside.

When you get back to Jaehyun's house, you expect him to finally let you off the hook, but instead, he keeps you around a little longer. He finds minuscule tasks for you to do while he works in his study—organizing his files, dusting the bookshelf, separating his pens by color—anything to keep you in his office with him.

“Jaehyun,” you yawn, stretching your arms overhead. “I’ve done everything! I’ve even organized your books by the Dewey Decimal System. I think it’s time for me to head home.” You really don’t mind Jaehyun’s company at all; in fact, you enjoy being around him. Plus, every task you handle for him counts toward the debt you owe, but it’s getting late, and the last thing you want is for him to fuss about you driving home in the dark.

He glances around the room, searching for another task to assign you, but all he finds is a sigh of resignation. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay over?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned. “There are plenty of rooms for you. It’s getting late, and you seem really tired. I don’t want you to fall asleep at the wheel.” He closes his laptop, giving you his full attention.

You think it over. Spending a night in his mansion feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. Staying here is akin to a luxury hotel experience. You weigh the pros and cons in your mind, but then a concern arises. “I don’t have any extra clothes,” you say.

“You can wear mine,” Jaehyun offers, and your face heats up at the prospect of slipping into one of his shirts—an oversized garment that would probably swallow you whole.

“I guess that would save me the commute of having to drive back over here in the morning.”

You can’t help but smile back, finding his stubbornness endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize he might be holding onto you not out of obligation but rather because he enjoys your company. After all, he’s been doing everything in his power to keep you around, perhaps because he is alone most of the time. You’d probably become the closest person to him after Doyoung.

"Well, if that's all, I'm going to go get in the shower,” you say.

“Ill meet you upstairs, I just want to finish this up,” he says

You head upstairs, navigating your way to Jaehyun's room with an ease that comes from having spent so much time in his space. You step into the bathroom connected to his room and turn on the shower, relishing the luxurious feel of the gold dual heads—it’s almost like being in a spa.

As the warm water envelops you, the stresses of the day wash away. The towels are fresh and warm as you step out, feeling utterly pampered. You can't help but marvel at the abundance of skincare products lined up on the counter, likely a key contributor to Jaehyun's flawless complexion. After cleansing your face and brushing your teeth with an unopened toothbrush you found in his bathroom pantry.

Peeking your head out of the bathroom door, you confirm that the coast is clear. With nothing but your towel wrapped around you, you make your way toward his closet. As you rummage through his clothes, memories flood back to the first time you were here—a completely different feeling, one of nerves and uncertainty. Little did you know that you’d be invited back as a guest, spending the night in his company.

Finally, you find a large shirt that looks incredibly comfortable and toss it over your head. Pairing it with some pajama pants that are a bit loose around your hips, you tie them with the strings, feeling cozy and at ease.

With a determined smile, you head back downstairs, wanting to say goodnight to Jaehyun. As you enter his study, though, you find him fast asleep, his head resting on a pile of documents. His hair is pushed back by a pair of glasses you haven't seen before, and you can't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. You never realized how taxing it must be for him to carry the weight of the company on his shoulders.

Gently, you shake him awake. “Jaehyun, come on, let’s go to sleep,” you whisper softly.

His eyes open slowly, taking a moment to adjust as he rubs them and slides his glasses back on. Confusion flits across his face before recognition sets in, and he begins to put his things away, a little disorientedly, but it makes you chuckle lightly.

You watch him for a moment, your heart swelling with fondness. You wish you could do something to help him relax—an idea pops into your mind. “I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” you say before darting back up the stairs.

You run a warm bath; you make sure to adjust the water to just the right temperature. Bubbles foam up and you lay out his clothes neatly on the counter—a clean, comfy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, paired with some fresh socks. The soft tune playing from a speaker fills the air, adding to the calming ambiance.

You hear the heavy footsteps of Jaehyun making their way up the stairs, and you work quickly, eager to ensure everything is perfect for him. When the door finally opens, he lumbers into the room, flopping onto the bed still clad in his work clothes.

“Come on, I ran you a bath,” you coax, gently taking off his glasses and tugging him up from the bed. His eyes are still closed, but he doesn’t resist, letting you guide him toward the bathroom.

“Your clothes are right here,” you say, pointing out the set you prepared for him. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

As you start to step away, eager to give him some privacy, he unexpectedly grabs your wrist. His grip is gentle yet firm, and he turns you back to face him. The air is thick with tension as he pushes you up against the sink.

“Help me undress,” he says sleepily, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes—a sight that makes your heart race. You’re practically chest to chest, and the proximity sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Your face heats up and you find yourself a stuttering mess. Jaehyun seems to realize what his words imply “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he fumbles, suddenly a little more awake. “Excuse me, I’m just really tired.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him quickly, your cheeks ablaze. “I want to help you relax. I can do that.”

He looks down at you, and you briefly meet his gaze before you shyly avert your eyes. As your hands shake, you manage to unbutton his shirt one by one, the fabric parting to reveal flawless skin beneath. He stands there, shirt completely undone, his gaze holding a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you find yourself captivated by his happy trail, your knees feeling weak beneath you. Jaehyun’s hands gracefully move to his belt, taking charge of the moment. You watch, entranced, as he slowly removes it, each movement deliberate and inviting. Your heart races in your chest, a frantic drumbeat that drowns out the soft music still playing in the background. You could practically feel the air thickening between you—a magnetic pull that makes you want to fall to your knees for him—to surrender.

His belt clatters to the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet bathroom, but then a hand catches under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. You’re drawn into the depths of his eyes, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “I’ve got it from here, thank you,” he says, his voice low and confident.

Reality crashes over you like a wave, pulling you back with a jolt. You process the situation: Jaehyun standing before you, his pants hanging loosely around his waist, his shirt sliding from his shoulders. Heat floods your cheeks.

In a rush, you scramble out of the bathroom, the words tumbling from your lips in a hurried mess. “R—right, I’ll be in the room across the hall. Good night, Jaehyun!” You don’t dare look back, your heart racing as you leave the bathroom, and you swear you hear a deep chuckle escape him, warm and teasing.

You slip into the bedroom across the hall, the plush bed feeling foreign and oddly comforting at the same time. You let out a heavy sigh, shaking off the feelings that swirled between you two.

The silence of the house wraps around you. It’s an odd comfort, yet it amplifies the sense of isolation that looms over you. You stare at the clock on the nightstand, ticking slowly towards the early hours of the morning. You toss and turn under the covers, unable to settle. Thoughts of Jaehyun haunt you—thoughts of the way he looked, the way he made you feel—the anticipation, the nervousness. You cover your face with the pillow in an attempt to silence your racing thoughts.

Suddenly, a soft but loud crash reverberates through the house, breaking the stillness. You sit upright, heart pounding in your chest. A sense of dread settles in as you carve your way through the shadows, crossing the hall to Jaehyun’s room.

“Jaehyun?” You call softly, knocking gently on the door, but it creaks open at your touch, revealing a scene that makes your breath hitch. Jaehyun is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking disheveled; his face pales from what you can only assume was a nightmare. There’s sweat glistening on his forehead, and you can see the stark tension in his shoulders.

“Hey, what happened?” You take a step in, closing the door behind you.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I just—I had a nightmare. It’s nothing.” He waves you off, but you can see the unsteadiness in his demeanor.

“No, it’s not nothing,” you assert, walking closer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You can talk to me.”

His eyes meet yours—a fleeting vulnerability. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you say softly.

“I dreamed about… losing my family. It’s a nightmare I’ve had more times than I can count.” He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you can see the pain that runs deep.

You quietly urge him on, your heart thrumming within your chest. “What happened?”

He swallows hard before continuing. “I used to live here, in this house, with my family. It was our summar home. Life was chaotic but… it was fun. My parents were always busy with the company, but they made time for us. Then…it just all fell apart.”

You can hear the tremor in his voice, the unsteady strength behind each word. “There was an accident,” he finally admits, his brow furrowing as if the very thought is a wound that never heals. “A car crash that took them away from me in an instant. I inherited everything. This houses the company and the money. Sometimes I feel like an imposter, like I’m not good enough for all of this. It helps that there are fewer memories here. Its emptier.”

Your heart aches for him, the stark reality of his loss weighing heavily in the air. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun,” you whisper, feeling a surge of compassion for the boy he once was. You couldn't imagine how alone he felt. The weight of an entire company thrust upon him at such a young age. You understand why he found it hard to let people in.

“It’s been years,” he continues, “but every now and then, I wake up in a cold sweat, feeling their absence like it was yesterday. Sometimes Its so bad I won't sleep at all.”

You step closer and sit beside him on the bed, your heart aching to comfort him. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to feel. You deserve to express that pain instead of bottling it up.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of your own past pressing against your chest. It feels only right to share your truth with Jaehyun now that he’s opened up about his own pain. “I get it, you know—feeling like you’re not enough. I felt that way growing up too,” you begin, your voice steady yet soft as you look into his eyes. “I didn’t have the stability of a family like yours. My parents were often absent, lost in their own world, and I was left to navigate everything on my own. I longed for connection.”

You pause, letting your words sink in. A part of you feels apprehensive, but telling your story also feels liberating. “I did meet some friends along the way. They were a bit snobby, but I loved them. They were everything I wanted to be—popular, carefree, surrounded by laughter. I wanted to fit in so badly that I was willing to do just about anything to be part of their world.”

Jaehyun nods, his gaze understanding as he absorbs your story. You take another breath, your heart racing slightly as you reveal more of your past. “I started to steal. Not just to survive, because there were times when I truly needed food, but mostly to impress them. To show them I could be just as cool, just as daring. Those friends were all I had, and I felt like I was grasping at straws. I never wanted to feel alone again.”

As you speak, you can see the pain in Jaehyun's eyes—he understands the need to connect, the lengths people go to feel accepted. “Most of the time, I felt like a fraud. Like I was pretending to be something I’m not. Their world wasn’t mine, but it was better than being alone. I guess in some way, I thought being with them would fill the emptiness, but it never did.”

“I know what it feels like to wear a mask,” he says, his tone gentle yet earnest. “It’s exhausting isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a small but relieved smile creeping onto your face. “But sharing it feels freeing. I think that’s why I wanted to tell you. Seeing you so vulnerable made me realize that maybe it’s okay to let myself be seen, too.”

Jaehyun reaches out, tentatively placing his hand over yours. It’s a small gesture, but it ignites warmth where your hands connect, sending a comforting pulse between you.

But just as the moment deepens, a loud crack of thunder rumbles outside, reverberating through the walls, making the lights flicker. A flash of lightning illuminates Jaehyun’s startled expression, momentarily freezing both of you in place until you’re instinctively drawn closer. A storm rages outside.

“Let’s… let’s just stay like this, okay?” You murmur, catching his gaze before looking down at your joined hands. “Just for tonight.”

He nods slowly, the tension shifting into something more profound. You slide under the covers beside him, and even though there’s a noticeable space between you, his warmth envelops you. The moment sinks into something intimate, something that goes beyond the mere physical closeness or the warmth of shared body heat.

— Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you hesitate before answering an unknown number. But curiosity compels you to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Where have you been?” The voice on the other end drips with annoyance. Taeyong. Just hearing him makes your stomach churn. It's a voice you've been avoiding, one you hoped you'd never have to hear again. It reminds you too much of the past your trying to forget.

You bite your lip, your gaze flickering nervously around the bustling cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, and the air buzzes with chatter as people gather at tables. Jaehyun is tied up in a meeting, leaving you surrounded by a few friends who have become a surprising source of comfort. You've been at the company long enough now that the initial gossip has faded, allowing you to forge genuine connections beyond just your complicated relationship with Jaehyun.

You cover your phone as you pull it down from your ear and mouth a quick sorry to your friends as you make your way somewhere else secluded.

“Sorry, you caught me at a bad time,” you murmur, moving away to a quieter corner.

“A bad time? You've been ghosting us for weeks! We have a big job lined up and need you back,” he says, impatience slicing through his tone.

“I told you, I’m not doing that anymore. I’m in a good place. I can’t mess this up,” you reply, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

He scoffs, a sound that irritates you more than it should. “You think you can just bail on us? When we had your back when no one else did?”

His words resonate, stirring unwanted memories. They taught you everything you know about survival.

“Without us, you’d be scraping by,” he adds with a cocky lilt that grates your nerves.

“What do you need me for?” You huff.

“A quick job. In and out. Johnny’s got his eyes on this jewelry store. Thinks it’ll impress some girl he’s crushing on,” he explains, the casual tone in his voice only making you more uneasy.

“A jewelry store? Are you serious? You know that’s risky,” you almost yell before you remember where you are.

“Yeah, well, the guy’s moving across the globe. Apparently, his heart is in Vegas or something. Listen, you owe us. Let’s call this your last job before Johnny bails.” He says.

You pause, weighing your options. You knew how persistent these guys could get and you didn’t need them digging too deep into what you’ve been up to. If they found out about Jaehyun, your not sure what they would scheme.

“If I do this, you lose my number. Don’t ever contact me again. I appreciate everything you guys did for me, but I’m trying to move on.” Your voice is firm.

“Great to have you back, princess. I’ll send over the details,” he says before hanging up.

Your hands were shaking and you could feel your throat close up as tears began to well in your eyes. You wanted to cry. You lean against a wall, trying to calm your breathing.

You could always ask Jaehyun for the money; whatever Johnny was looking to score from the jewelry store, Jaehyun could match it; the only issue is you already owe him enough and Taeyong would definitely ask you where you got such a large sum of money.

You could not get Jaehyun involved. You didn't want him mixed up in any of this. This was your problem, your past, that you had to fix.

You tilt your head back, trying to will the tears away. If Jaehyun found out—Jaehyun couldn't find out.

You try to act normal when you head back up to Jaehyun's office. You bury yourself in paperwork and emails as an excuse for how unnaturally quiet you were today. You couldn't avoid him all day, though.

“How was lunch” he asks after returning from his meeting.

You don't turn to acknowledge him; instead, you give him a “it was good” before returning to your work. He doesn't comment on how quiet you have been but you definitely see it in his eyes that he wants to. He walks to his desk without another word. He knows when to give you space and probably figured now was one of those times.

—

You were making mistakes again. The chaos of the office felt louder than ever as you stumbled through the busy halls, your arms full of files that seemed to have a mind of their own. Papers slipped from your grasp, fluttering to the ground like fallen leaves as you scrambled to collect them, heart racing as you barely managed to avoid having someone step on the important documents.

The printer was your sworn enemy today; it jammed at the worst possible moment, leaving you flustered and anxiously trying to free the stuck sheets while praying no one noticed your struggle. You were constantly tripping over your own feet, rushing back and forth, trying to juggle tasks that felt increasingly overwhelming.

Jaehyun's eyes lingered on you longer than usual, suspicion bubbling just beneath the surface. He could let a few things slide, but it was clear he was picking up on the fact that something wasn’t right.

Finally, you excused yourself, heart pounding as you left for the bathroom. Clutching your phone tightly, it buzzed with a message that made your stomach drop. You glanced down and read:

[Meet us at xxx on Sunday at 3 AM].

This was it—tonight would be the night.

You quickly composed a response, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed. As you headed back to the office, you tried to shake off the brewing anxiety. With every step, you reminded yourself that soon, after tonight, you wouldn’t have to hide anything else from Jaehyun. After tonight, everything could go back to normal.

You had packed a small duffel bag. Its contents reminded you of the significance of the night ahead. Dressed in all black, you made your way to Taeyong's place, the night air cool against your skin. As you arrived, the tension in your stomach twisted tighter when you saw Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta waiting for you.

“Hey.” you greeted, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You joined them, your heartbeat thumping in your ears as you went over the plan, going through every detail. The stakes were high; robbing businesses was far more complex than the petty house break-ins of the past. There was far more security to navigate this time, and your palms began to sweat at the thought of what would happen if you got caught.

“Stop overthinking it,” Johnny said, flashing you a reassuring smile as he finished loading the last item into the car. “It’s gonna be just like old times.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is the last time,” you declared, shooting a look at the back of Taeyong's head as he settled into the driver’s seat but you couldn’t stop the thrill that snuck into your heart. There was a small part of you that loved this thrill, loved the challenge that the night would bring

Johnny slid into the passenger seat, and Yuta hopped in beside you in the back. “I understand if you don’t want to steal, but we’re still family,” Yuta said, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t forget that, no matter what happens.

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, a storm of emotions battling within you. You knew you were being cold towards them, shutting off parts of yourself that had always been open to them. They were your everything before Jaehyun came into your life, your partners in crime and laughter, and now you felt sickness coil in your stomach at the thought of discarding them for something that might not even last.

You bit back tears, feeling the sharp sting of regret and longing. One part of you mourned the life you were desperately trying to hold onto—the stability, the calm, everything that came with Jaehyun. The other half grieved for the carefree moments you’d shared with Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta and for the friendships that felt more like family than anything else.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” you finally managed to say, your voice wavering as you fought to steady it. “Let this be it for all of us.” Your words hung in the air.

“Y/N…” Yuta began, an understanding between all of you that couldn’t be voiced.

“Please,” you interrupted softly, desperation coloring your tone as you looked from one familiar face to the other. “I don’t want anything happening to you guys.”

Silence settled in the car. No one answered you; there were no reassurances to offer, no words that could change the precarious situation you were all in. They couldn’t up and leave this life and you knew it.

As Taeyong turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life, breaking the stillness. You glanced out the window, taking in the familiar streets you had navigated countless times, the memories flooding back.

—

The blaring alarms pierced the night like a siren's wail as you moved to grab one more bag full of jewelry. Every clang of metal against metal made your stomach churn. Your hands were shaking, and as you tossed another bag over to Yuta, you felt a sense of disgust washing over you. How had it come to this? You stuffed your feelings deep down and concentrated on the task at hand—the only thing you could control. Yuta caught the bag and hurried it to the car, urgency fueling every movement.

Then came the wailing of sirens that sent a jolt of panic through your body. The familiar blue and red lights flickered on the walls of the alley as they crept closer, and your heart raced faster.

“Out now! GO!” Taeyong shouted, urgency slicing through the chaos. You hurled yourself into the car just as the engine roared to life, Taeyong hitting the gas pedal with a force that slammed you back against the seat. Your head twisted around, searching for any sign of the approaching police cars. Relief washed over you when you didn’t see their flashing lights right behind you—yet.

Then, terror gripped you as a police car roared around the corner, lights ablaze, barreling towards you.

“We’re not going to make it!” You cried out, panic rising in your chest like bile.

“Shut up! Let me think!” Taeyong snapped back, his voice sharp and focused.

With skill, he made a sharp left turn and then another, weaving through the streets as your heart thundered in your ears. The fear began to lift, the thrill of escape practically intoxicating, until the dreaded sight of the police car revealed itself again, like a predator stalking prey.

He maneuvered the car swiftly into a dark alleyway, the bright streetlights fading behind you, swallowed by the inky shadows of the narrow passage.

“Get out!” Taeyong shouted suddenly, and you whipped your head around to look at him, wide-eyed, disbelief painted across your face.

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, your pulse racing even faster. The alleyway loomed dark and empty beyond the car.

“What are you—” Yuta started to say, confusion evident in his voice.

“I’ll lead them away; just go!” Taeyong insisted, urgency etched deep into his words. “We don’t have time!”

You knew if he was caught, he would never snitch—Taeyong was loyal, he would take the fall for you without a second thought. But the prospect of him behind bars was more upsetting than you'd ever anticipated.

“That wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” you murmured, helpless, as Johnny dragged you along through the darkness. You struggled to comprehend what was happening through the haze of tears obscuring your vision. Out of instinct, you pulled off your mask and dark jacket, tossing them into a nearby trash bin.

With your heads down, you walked in silence, the distant sirens haunting the air. It wasn’t long until Kun, Yuta’s friend, pulled up to a nearby park to pick you all up.

You didn't go home that night. Instead, you ended up at Chenle's place. He didn’t ask any questions when he saw your tear-stained cheeks; he simply pulled you inside and set about making some tea to soothe your frayed nerves. Chenle was always the one who understood you the most.

Tonight, the weight of secrets felt heavier than ever. You couldn’t keep it all inside any longer. As you sank onto his couch, the dam broke, and you began to tell Chenle everything—from the very beginning to the events of the night. Sobs wracked your body as you relayed the tale, the guilt and shame spilling out with each word.

You were a liar, a thief, a fake.

Chenle sat in silence for a moment, absorbing your confession. He let out a heavy sigh and rose from his seat, your teary eyes tracking him as he rummaged through his cupboard.

“We’re gonna need something stronger than tea tonight,” he said, pouring you a shot.

—

When you wake up the next day, a piercing headache pounds through your skull. You had fallen asleep on Chenle’s couch. Blinking against the sunlight filtering in, you glance around the large living space and spot Chenle sprawled on the other end of the couch, still blissfully asleep.

Rummaging around the couch cushions, your fingers finally brush against your phone. You remember that you powered it down last night, a decision made during the chaos of emotions. You turn it back on, the screen lighting up and revealing a barrage of messages.

YUTA [taeyong got away last night] [Just keep your head down and we should be fine]

JOHNNY [TY PULLED THROUGH LET'S GO!]

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. “Selfish bastard.” you think, feeling a stir of resentment alongside the relief.

JAEHYUN [are you coming into work today?] [are you hurt?] [if your sick i can bring you something] [call me when you can]

You wince at the notification count—Jaehyun had called you at least five times this morning

Just then, Daegal, Chenle’s dog, leaps onto the couch, nudging your leg. Chenle stirs awake, cracking an eye open, squinting against the bright light that seeps into the living room.

“Taeyong was able to get away somehow,” you inform him quietly.

“Don’t know whether I should be happy or upset about that,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m sorry about lying, and I’m sorry for bothering you, but this was the only place I knew to come.” You let out a heavy sigh, tossing your phone down on the coffee table.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not upset that you lied,” Chenle says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I understand what you were going through, and if that’s how you made ends meet, I won’t judge you for it.” He stretches and yawns, then narrows his eyes playfully at you. “What I am mad about is the fact that you’ve been seeing a hot CEO and didn’t tell me about it!”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his playful reprimand. At least you wouldn’t lose your best friend. You crawl toward him on the couch and envelop him in a warm hug. “I love you,” you smother him with affection.

You sit across the table from Chenle, a steaming plate of breakfast in front of you. As you tell him everything about your relationship with Jaehyun—the sweet moments, the little things that made you blush—it feels like a breath of fresh air. It takes you back to those late-night gossip sessions in high school, a sense of comfort washing over you. For that brief moment, you felt like yourself again, like the world around you wasn't being held together by a single string.

But soon reality creeps back in. You check the time and realize you can’t put off Jaehyun's calls any longer.

[im ok]

[where have you been?]

[Can we meet?]

[i can meet you at home]

Your heart clenches at the word ‘home.’ You aren’t sure when you two became this close, but the thought of lying to Jaehyun anymore feels unbearable.

As you approach the house, a heavy silence envelops you. It’s eerily quiet; the only sound is the faint shuffle of papers filtering in from Jaehyun’s study. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation ahead.

You clear your throat, your voice slightly shaky. “Hey,” you announce, trying to keep your tone steady.

Jaehyun looks up, his expression distant and unreadable. “Where have you been?” he asks, setting aside the documents that had consumed his attention. Frustration flickers across his face as he stands and closes the distance between you. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the muscles evident even beneath the wrinkled fabric of his work clothes, a testament to the long day he’s had.

He leans back slightly against his desk, exuding a mix of authority and weariness. His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose, casting a shadow over his eyes and intensifying his gaze as he studies you, waiting for an answer that feels heavy in the air

“I was at a friend’s,” you reply, your words catching slightly in your throat.

“Why weren’t you answering my calls? What’s been going on with you lately?” His voice is firm, perhaps too firm, sounding too much like your boss, and you can feel your irritation simmer.

“It won’t happen again. I’ve just been taking care of some business,” you mumble, but it feels inadequate.

“You need to let me know if you’re not going to show up!” he says, and you can see the frustration etching lines across his forehead. But beneath that, there’s something else—something more worried.

“Is this all I am to you? Just another one of your employees you have to keep track of,” you challenge, the heat of your annoyance flaring. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up to work, Mr. Jung!” You spit his name like it’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Don't do that. I was worried about you!” He snaps back, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern.

“I just needed some time!” You fire back, defending yourself but feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Time for what? I’ve been giving you time! Time to text, time to leave, time to make calls to whoever it is you’ve been talking to,” he replies, the edge in his voice sharpening with jealousy.

“Why do you even care who I talk to?”

His lips are on yours in an instant and he kisses you for the first time. You can feel his anger, frustration, and annoyance at you through the way he kisses you. It was as though the heavens had opened and a lightning strike had struck you, igniting every nerve ending in your body. The kiss was electrifying, sending waves of warmth cascading down your spine, and you felt as if your lips were two magnets with an irresistible force drawing them together. The kiss is harsh, and your teeth clink together as you kiss him back with just as much heat. Everything that had been boiling within you—the frustration, fear, and anxiety—pours out as you let it all go. Your fingers pull at his hair, and you bite at his lips. His hands grip your hips roughly, like he's barely holding himself back from breaking you. He pulls you against him, and you can feel him hard through his slacks.

The tension in the room was high, and when it snapped, it was like the barriers that you both worked hard to keep up around each other had fallen.

He switches positions with you, pushing you up against his desk as he kisses down your neck. You have half the mind to be mindful of the things that litter his desk, trying not to knock anything over as his hands explore your body. He senses your hesitation and clears his desk with a swipe of his arm, not breaking the kiss in his haste. You moan into his mouth as he lays you down flat against his desk.

“Who have you been texting?” he asks, his chest heaving. You knew it must have been eating him up over the past few days.

“It was no one. I’ll explain later, just don’t stop,” you whine and pull him back to your lips.

Your fingers start working at the pesky buttons of his shirt. You try to work them one by one, but only get half way before you give up. You slide the fabric half way down his shoulders.

You run your hands down his back, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your palms. His hands move to your shirt, pulling it over your head with ease. His lips trail kisses down your collarbone, causing you to arch your back involuntarily. He pulls your bra open, the fabric falling away to reveal your breasts. His mouth descends on one nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive nub as his hand cups the other breast, squeezing gently. His tongue circles your nipple, teasing and tormenting until you’re practically begging for release. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweats. His thick fingers pinch and tug at your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that elicit moans from your lips. You’re soaking wet, and it’s not hard for him to slip his fingers inside your tight pussy.

Your eyes meet his, and his pupils are dilated, like he’s lost in pleasing you. His fingers pump into you at a steady pace, and your thighs spread wide for him, giving him complete access to you. His hand presses against your abdomen as he curls his fingers inside you. He wants you to feel it.

“Say you’re mine,” he commands. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” your voice trembles, and you can feel your stomach clench with how close you are. Your back arches as you squirm under his ministrations. He leans down and attaches his mouth to your clit as he fingers you, and that’s all you need before you’re cumming all over his fingers. He continues to suck and lick at you until you’re pushing at his head to stop.

Once you have caught your breath, you pull your clothes back on as a heavy silence engulfs the room. You know you need to tell him the truth. You need to tell him what happened.

“I robbed a jewelry store.” You say as he helps you down from his desk.

He freezes, eyes widening in disbelief. “You did what?”

“There’s nothing to worry about! It’s over, okay? I just didn’t want to lie to you anymore,” you say defensively.

“Are you serious? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this! It was my past that got me here. I can’t rely on you to fix everything for me,” you explain.

“But you were the one who taught me not to bear it all alone!” he counters, hurt flashing in his eyes.

“Not this Jae, I couldn't drag you into this. I care about you way too much”

“And you think I don’t care about you? You throw yourself into trouble like it’s nothing, and you want me to just forget it? Tell me what really happened.” His gaze is piercing, demanding honesty.

You tell him everything.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I didn’t want our lives to cross paths like this. I thought I could leave that stuff behind but they kept reaching out. It was just one last job, and I thought I could handle it.”

“You should have told me. I could have helped,” he says, brow crinkling in frustration.

“I was scared,” you admit, stepping closer to him. “Scared that getting you involved would get you hurt.”

Jaehyun sighs deeply, processing what you’ve just shared. “No more secrets, okay? You need to promise me that.”

—

The way your life had fallen into rhythm with Jaehyuns was scary; you couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when this arrangement finally came to an end. You found yourself practically living in his home, spending almost every day together. You cherished the moments you shared working side by side. Each laugh, each quiet evening, felt like a treasure you never wanted to lose. Still, you understood that, like everything else, even the best things must eventually come to an end. You just hoped that day would remain far off.

Unfortunately, today was that day. After the countless hours you’d spent with Jaehyun, both on and off the clock, you had officially repaid your debt. Of course, your coworkers gathered around the dinner table at the prestigious restaurant had no idea. They believed you were simply celebrating your one-year anniversary. You forced a smile; would they still see it as a celebration if they knew the full story behind your relationship with Jaehyun?

The atmosphere in the restaurant was a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the delicious aroma of carefully prepared dishes. As the celebrations for your one-year anniversary at the company unfolded around you, a wave of anxiety gnawed at your insides. You had worked hard for this moment, but all you could think about was what came next. You glanced down the table, where Jaehyun sat, a warm smile plastered on his face as he engaged in conversation with your coworkers, but he hadn’t looked your way once.

It was a stark contrast to the intimacy that you two shared. He didn’t bring up that night. He didn't bring up how he made you promise that you were his. For awhile, you thought you had just imagined it all but you could feel the shift in your dynamic. His touches lingering a little longer and the way his eyes wandered to you when he thought you weren't looking.

You find yourself looking back on your relationship with Jaehyun. Surprisingly, Jaehyun wasn’t the cold, distant person you first encountered; now, he trailed after you like a loyal puppy, and there was something sweetly comforting in the role reversal. You remembered how he had seemed so vast and imposing on your first day at the company, while you had followed him around like a lost puppy trying to match his stride. Now, as you walked through the hallways with your head held high, Jaehyun was the one keeping pace behind you, as if he feared losing you.

But as you looked at him now, across the expanse of the table, he felt miles away. The realization that the debt you owed him was fully paid loomed over you, casting a shadow that threatened to eclipse the joy of the evening. What would happen after tonight? How would your relationship change? You couldn’t shake the nagging fear that everything you had built together might soon unravel.

The cake arrived, beautifully adorned and lit with candles, drawing enthusiastic cheers from your coworkers. Jaehyun raised a glass to toast the moment, and when he glanced around, his eyes skated over you without recognition. You blinked, a pang of hurt lacing through you as the reality of it all settled in.

After the dinner wound down and laughter faded into the background, Jaehyun drove you back home—well, to his house. The silence hung between you like a tightrope, and it was nearly suffocating. Once inside the house, the familiar warmth enveloped you.

Finally, unable to contain your feelings, you broke the silence. “Jaehyun,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Why have you been so quiet tonight?”

He paused, fingers brushing through his hair as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The flickering light above cast shadows across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. “I—” he hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor, “I know your probably getting ready to leave since the debt is paid and I guess I was just preparing myself for that”

Your heart raced. “Is that why you haven’t brought up that night in your office?”

"I just didn’t want to grow more attached than I already am. I thought if I could pretend that night never happened, it would hurt less when you left.” He takes a deep breath as he searches your face for the right words to say. “I want you to stay with me. I know you’ve paid me back for everything… but I need you to understand that I want you in my life for reasons that go far beyond debt.” He took a breath, as if gathering the courage to continue. “I care about you. More than you know.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaehyun. I'm not going anywhere you don’t want me to,” you say, stepping closer to him and cupping his face.

Jaehyun reached up, touching the hand that was caressing his face. “Then let’s stop pretending that all this is just transactional. I want something real.” The sincerity in his gaze melted your worries away, replacing them with something brighter, something full of possibility.

When he leans down to kiss you, your fingers caress his cheeks, memorizing the contours as you breathe in the essence of him. His hands roamed over your hips, exploring with an urgency that both thrilled and comforted you. The way they eventually tangled into your hair was possessive, a silent promise that he wasn't going to let you go.

Your bodies pressed together tightly and with every passing second, the kiss grew hotter, needier, and wetter as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You panted softly, surrendering to him, allowing him to take over completely, losing yourself in him.

As the fervor of the moment intensified, you felt his hands traveling back down to your hips. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself being lifted off your feet. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, anchoring yourself as he backed you up against a nearby wall. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between your bodies.

The makeout session became heavier and more desperate as passion consumed you both. Each kiss felt like a promise, filled with hunger and longing, as if you were trying to convey everything that words could never fully express. Finally, as your lungs burn for air, you part, a thin string of saliva connecting you.

The way he looked at you suggested a man starved—and that only fueled your desire to explore him further. As his hips rocked against yours, a low moan escaped your lips, the friction backing your toes curl. You welcomed his touch and his kisses but you wanted more. You wanted to take your time, savoring each curve and contour of each other’s bodies.

His face nestled in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers racing down your spine. A dampness was forming in your panties, an exhilarating rush that clouded your thoughts. Gathering the courage, you gently tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to break the spell that enveloped you both.

He lifted his head, planting soft kisses along your neck, climbing up to press a tender peck against your lips. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes holding a raw sincerity that made you forget the world around you. “Should we stop?” he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

“It’s not that,” you replied, your breath coming in soft gasps as you regained your composure. “I just want to move to the bedroom.”

You expected him to set you down for a moment, but instead a gasp slipped from your lips as he tightened his grip. He effortlessly began to ascend the opulent winding staircase. The walls were adorned with portraits, their painted eyes following your every movement, as if they were witnesses to this unfolding moment. Rich mahogany railings glimmered under the soft light of the chandelier.

You felt like a princess from a fairytale, swept away on a wave of romance and fantasy as he carried you up the staircase. Yet, amidst the enchantment, a small knot of doubt tightened in your chest—a complicated mix of guilt and disbelief. You don’t deserve this, you thought, battling the insistent voice in your head. This isn’t your life.

This dreamlike encounter with Jaehyun, who seemed to embody the very essence of Prince Charming, felt almost too good to be true—like a scene plucked straight from a storybook. The way he held you, the intensity of his gaze, and the atmosphere were intoxicating. But hessitation tugged at you, casting shadows over the light of your fairy tale.

As he gently set you down on the edge of his bed, Jaehyun kneeled before you. He looked up, his deep eyes searching yours as if trying to read the secrets hidden within.

“What’s wrong, pretty?” he asked, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a protective embrace. His hands enveloped yours, thumb stroking over your skin in a languid, comforting rhythm.

You forced a smile, desperate to maintain the illusion of this fairytale moment, but you knew better than to lie to him. Jaehyun had a way of seeing through your facades, as if he had developed some sixth sense when it came to understanding you. The light in his eyes flickered, a mix of concern and curiosity, as he waited for you to speak.

This was all so surreal—when the world outside seemed so turbulent, here he was, the embodiment of calm and acceptance. But as much as you tried to bask in this moment, the shadows of your past crept in, reminding you of who you once were.

“About that night…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, throat tightening. Sudden shame washed over you like a cold wave. “I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve all of this.

Jaehyun’s gaze softened, and he leaned in closer, brows furrowing slightly in concern. “Everyone has a past. What matters is who you choose to be now.” he said gently, as if unfurling your tightly wound shame with each word.

“But I’m a thief, Jaehyun… I tried to steal from you. I lied and even robbed a bank” The admission hung in the air.

“I don’t see a thief when I look at you; I see someone who has struggled but is capable of so much more. Someone I care about.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

You looked down at him, finally meeting his gaze, and in that moment, you saw a man who would stop time for you if he could, who would pause the world just to shield you from its harshness.

He was your man.

Without a second thought, you leaned in and pulled him into another kiss, the warmth between you igniting once more, filling the room with an undeniable heat. He broke away for just a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, before he gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you. In one swift motion, he tossed you onto the middle of the soft, inviting bed.

You bounced with a delighted laugh, the sound echoing through the air as you playfully crawled back toward the headboard, an exhilarated sparkle dancing in your eyes.

Jaehyun crawls to you and you tug off your blouse before he reaches you. It was like he couldn't keep his mouth off of you. He kisses the bare skin of your chest and stomach as his hands toy with the button on the dress pants you wore at dinner. He tugs them down your legs until your only left in your bra and panties. When he's done, you push at his shoulder until your able to sit up, stradling him.

You begin undressing him like the time in the bathroom but this time he lets you strip him down until hes in his boxers. You could see him straining against the fabric of his boxers and you whimper. You had to have him in your mouth. He tries to lay you back down, insistant on taking care of you but you shake your head; thats not what you needed right now. You connect your lips and grip him through his boxers. He lets out a slight gasp, and you can feel him twitch in your grasp. His eyes are closed, but you can see the tension in his jaw and the way his hands grip the sheets beneath him. You’ve been thinking about this for a while now, about how you want to unravel him, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

“Can I show you what's been on my mind?” You whisper against his lips, your voice low and sultry. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes flutter open and he nods. You slide down until you settle between his legs, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his boxers and you kiss along his chest. Finally, you pull him out of his boxers. His tip is a pretty pink, begging for your attention, and there’s a vein that follows along the base of his cock, pulsing with every heartbeat. You make a mental note to pay extra attention to that. His breath picks up before you can even do anything, and when you finally tear your eyes away from his cock, you see that his cheeks are dusted pink and his ears are red. Even at a time like this, you find him endearing. You smile, but it comes off more sultry than you intend.

You gather spit in your mouth to wet your tongue, savoring the anticipation as you lean in closer. The moment your lips wrap around his tip, he lets out a sharp gasp, his body tensing. You take him into your mouth, feeling the warmth and saltiness of him as you bob your head gently. You circle his tip with your tongue before pulling off to lick him from base to tip, spreading your saliva and making him slip easier into your mouth.

You look up, meeting his gaze as you take him deeper, your throat working around him. Jaehyun’s head is thrown back, his chest heaving as he tries to keep still, but his hips betray him, thrusting slightly into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Each time you pull off, you leave a trail of saliva connecting you, making your next descent even slicker.

“Fuck…hah,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good.”

“When was the last time someone did this for you?” You ask, your voice muffled around his cock, noticing how sensitive he is.

“I can’t remember,” he groans.

“We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” You say seductively, your eyes locked on his as you take him back into your throat, not holding back as you show him the pleasures he had probably been withholding from himself. You moan around him, pumping him vigorously as you suck on him, making a show of giving him the sloppiest head possible.

He was polite in the beginning; he didn’t push your head or tug your hair, and he didn’t buck his hips. Instead, he gripped the sheets and bit his lip, trying to control himself, trying to be a gentleman. But after he hits the back of your throat a little too roughly and you gag on him, he loses it. The way your throat convulses makes him bury his fingers into your hair, pressing you down until your nose is nuzzling against his happy trail. Tears burn your eyes as you let him drown in his pleasure, your own arousal building in response.

You know your panties are ruined at this point. Your free hand snakes down between your legs, your fingers gliding over your clit, circling the swollen button as he uses your throat. You barely notice the ache in your jaw, too consumed by the sensations coursing through your body. Suddenly, he pulls you off, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Lay down,” he commands, his voice gruff and urgent. You don’t even have time to follow his command before he manhandles you onto your back, his hands moving with a mix of urgency and precision. Desire and desperation swirl in his eyes as he practically rips your panties from you, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs as he strips them away. He’s far too impatient to unclip your bra, so he just pushes it up, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

Your back arches into his touch as he attaches his mouth to your nipples, flicking and nibbling at them with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. You moan, your nails scratching down his arms lightly, urging him on. He kisses down to your thighs, leaving a few love bites along the skin there that have your hips twitching for more. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes raking down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Hurry, I need you,” you cry, your voice breaking with urgency, your fingernails digging into his arms.

He shushes you with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a brief but intense moment of connection. Then he lines himself up, coating himself in your slick, making sure he’s slick enough to slide right in. Your breath hitches when he presses against your entrance, the head of his cock nudging at your folds. You were definitely feeling how big he was. Not only was he long, but he had a nice girth as well, stretching you in ways that had you clenching your teeth a little at the sensation.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice soothing as he begins to push in. “Let me in.”

You gently press him back, creating a space between your bodies, your eyes drawn to where your bodies connect. You can feel him deep inside you—only a third left before hes in completely and you already felt full. A soft whimper escapes your lips, vulnerability flashing in your gaze as you look up at him, searching for assurance.

“It’s okay, baby. You can take it,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

You stay still, allowing the initial sting to fade, his fingers intertwined with yours, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as a calming gesture. You focus on the warmth of his hand against yours and the tension slowly dissipates. The discomfort begins to melt away, replaced by a delicious ache. You give him a slow nod, a silent agreement, and he takes that as his cue. His hips pull back, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized, as he slips out—he was so big but still so perfect.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. Focus,” he urges, his voice a deep rumble that resonates in your core.

You meet his gaze and its so intense you almost shy away. “Thats right baby, im right here”

One of his hands grips the underside of your thigh before pressing it up against your chest. your back arching involuntarily at the delicious rush of pleasure that courses through you. You could feel him in your gut in this position. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he drills into you again and again. Short, fast thrusts gradually deepen into long, languid strokes that have you pushing at his hips weakly.

“Fuck, Jae… it’s too deep,” you cry out, your thighs trembling.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you empty and momentarily disoriented. “Turn around,” he commands, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. You pout, suddenly regretting opening your big mouth.

Taking a deep breath, you prop yourself up on your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder at him with a pleading gaze. “I can take it, I promise,” you reassure.

“We’ll see,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, as he leans down to lay a line of soft kisses down your spine.

You shudder at the gesture and just as the last kiss lingers on the small of your back, you feel him slip inside again. This position gives him more control but he isn't as deep as before. You roll your hips back into him, urging him to fuck you as deep as he was before.

But he slows, his thrusts coming to a halt as he watches you move, his gaze dark with pleasure as he just watches you fuck yourself on him. He hums a noise of pleasure. He lets it go on for a little while longer before he is gripping your hips and stilling your movements.

“Let me take care of you”

He pushes the space between your shoulders, urging you down into the softness of the mattress until you're face down, ass up. With one hand gripping your hips, he resumes his thrusts. Picking up a brutal pace and this time you don't fight it. Each thrust strikes with precision, sharp and calculated, as he takes you from behind. His movements are relentless.

A low growl reverberates from deep within him. In an instant, he pulls you up until your back presses against his chest, your body perched in his lap as he continues to drill into you. You tilt your head back against his shoulder, gasping as his hands roam over you. One grips your chest, kneading your breast, while the other slips between your legs to expertly rub your clit. You let out unrestrained moans, the sounds echoing in the room without a care.

Your thighs tremble and you can feel tears prick your eyes as the overwheliming sensation consumes your body. Each thrust, each caress pushes you closer to the edge, and your chest heaves as you squirm in his hold. It was too much.

“I got you. Let it go baby.” he whispers breathily in your ear. His hand that was kneading your breast moves to hook beneath your shoulder, anchoring you down as he thrusts deeper, pulling you back into him as his hips drive into yours.

It isn't long until your an incoherent mess, until finally you collapse against him as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You moan shamelessly, feeling your heat pulse around him and coating his cock as your release spills out, dripping down his balls. Jaehyun groans, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he holds you in place, burning himself into you over and over again until hes lightheaded.

“Just a little more, baby, please. You can take it, yeah?” Jaehyun's voice wavers slightly, the raw need evident as he edges closer to his release. The urgency in his tone drives you wild. With a few more deep thrusts, he finally reaches his peak, filling you with thick, hot strands of cum. You shudder in his grasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he exhales harshly, breaths mingled with soft curses. “Fuck… mmmh… fuck,” he murmurs.

Jaehyun breathes as he slowly tries to catch his breath. You both take a few moments to come down from your high. His grip loosens at last, and with a gentle touch, he pulls out, laying you delicately on the mattress. You sink into the sheets, breathing heavily as he gets up to run a bath.

A few moments later, he returns, scooping you up in his strong arms. Together, you step into the warm water, which soothes your tired muscles instantly. You sit in front of him, letting the warmth encapsulate you as he takes on the role of caretaker, washing your back caringly.

He massages your shoulders, and you let out a content sigh, a sound that embodies the perfect blend of exhaustion and bliss. The water laps around you, and you feel a sense of tranquility settle in, wrapping around you just as warmly as his hands.

After you both wash up, you're enveloped in a comfortable silence. You were too tired to talk anyway. You lean back against him, feeling his fingers play in your hair. Eventually, when you finally muster the energy to pull yourselves from the bath, he wraps you both in warm towels. You don’t even bother with clothes, opting instead to pad back toward the bedroom

The bed was a chaotic mess, sheets crumpled and soiled from the nights activities. You yawn, too exhausted to even think about changing the linens, and way too impatient to wait for Jaehyun to take care of it. Without hesitation, you reach for his wrist, pulling him gently out of his disheveled room.

You guide him into the room across the hall—the very one where you first stayed. As you get under the covers, you tug them up and slip in beside him, legs tangling with his as you get comfortable.

Jaehyun can’t tear his gaze away from you as you settle next to him, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating your features. Your eyes feel heavy, and you yawn again, surrendering to the fatigue. “Go to sleep, Jae, stop staring like a creep,” you grumble, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

“I'm afraid to,” he admits, his words muffled against your hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern.

“Because I’m afraid that when I wake up, this will all be a dream,” he confesses.

“Jaehyun. I’m right here,” you murmur with a soft yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. The warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a sense of comfort that makes it hard to resist the pull of sleep. “I’ll always be… right here,” you promise, your words fading into a whisper as sleep finally overtakes you.

[celaenaeiln]

Is Dick's tendency for self-destructive habits really as bad as some fics make it out to be?

oh interesting!! In some way, yes actually.

Batman (2016) Issue #689

Dick and Alfred!! The duo make me so happy <33

But anyway, it's weird that someone who's so effusive with his affection so often and readily "deflects a moment of genuine emotion." Which is also one of the reasons why Dick Grayson as a character is so fascinating because he's never what people expect him to be. He's like a puzzle box where every time you think you solved, you just opened yourself up to a hard, even more complex one wherein the process repeats on an endless cycle.

He's incredibly self-destructive in the way he drive a burning car off a bridge and he'll know it's on fire, he knows where he's going, but he'll do it anyway because the car has a bomb and it's safer with him than the civilians behind him.

You know what? I just realized he deflects intimate conversations because he wants to keep the focus on the other person. Since he was Robin, Dick has been purposefully neglecting his feelings in order to take care of Bruce's. Right after his parents died, he bottled up his sadness and sorrow because he was worried that Bruce would blame himself and he didn't want Bruce to do that.

It's always been "Tell me what's wrong, Bruce." He's been so busy raising his guardian, his friends, his siblings, his teammates, that Dick has sunk into the role of a performer - the spotlight's on him but the audience is the focus.

I didn't realize until writing this ask but self-destruction is just such a normal thing with him that it's become a part of his personality. In fics it's very obvious when he's being self-destructive or neglecting himself or etc because he's very aware of it but Dick in canon has just made it his thing. It's actually the Titans that realize this and yank him out of it because Dick has no idea what he does to himself.

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

He's not self-destructive in a way that he's conscious of it but his habits and his lifestyle don't really give him a choice. He literally works himself sick.

The Titans (1999) Issue #9

"Maybe it's too much. Dick --have you considered that? You're working Bludhaven, even joining their force, you still clearly intend to come here to Gotham every time he calls you -- working so hard you're making yourself sick,"

"No. It's not the newness that's the problem."

People are literally telling him to calm down and he's like 'No! I'm perfectly okay. This is fine, let's continue.'

And this isn't even going into when Blockbuster blew up his life and Dick kinda lost himself to hunt him down and make him pay. People understand that Desmond burnt down the circus but Dick was still connected to the people in that circus, like he used his contacts there to sometimes inquire about things going on Bludhaven. The people at the circus raised him along with his parents so killing them was like killing Dick's aunts and uncles and friends and childhood. What happened then and after the SA was catastrophic. To Dick self-destruction has just become a part of him because he aims for perfection in every aspect of his life.

Like Donna said, "He works with the Titans, on his own, goes to school, and then he works alongside Batman..." and so on. Usually people struggle to maintain even one area of their life like just school or family but Dick's juggling, his work, his family, his friends, his relationship, his teams, and is still on call for Justice League incidents.

Titans (2003) Issue #6

He literally dropped everything to come over and break up the Titans (OF WHICH HE IS NOT EVEN A PART OF RIGHT NOW BECAUSE HE'S IN THE MIDDLE OF DEALING WITH THE OUTSIDERS) and the Justice League full on fighting.

He's not self-destructive in the way he doesn't want to get out of bed or that he isn't clean, it's just that Dick Grayson is a machine. He's got ice in his veins and he just powers through everything. Everything he does has to be top notch, so sleep and social life and happiness can say goodbye because he's too busy for that. This is why the Titans are so important to him and for him because they realize this toxic trait of his and do their absolute best to yank him out of this bad habit because Dick certainly can't stop.

So self-destruction has become part of his personality but unlike in fics, it's conducive self-destruction. It comes from his refusal to feel any emotion that isn't for others because Big Brother Dick Grayson and Best Friend Dick Grayson are always there for everyone but the second he's asked to help himself or someone tries to help him, he flakes. He's the best at helping others and being there for them but he's allergic to getting help or talking about himself.

[tswhiisftteedr]

Heyyyy, could you do a oneshot f!reader x Zestial nsfw pretty please ? 🙏

Tea Salon ☆ One Shot

Zestial x Salon Owner Sinner!Fem!Reader:

A young woman with big dreams ready to be achieve was what you were, after making a deal with Overlord Rosie you soon found out that your Salon wasn't the only thing that would bloom in your afterlife...

Warning: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Honestly Nothing Kinky, Husband and wife, Praise kink, Creampie, Oral(Female receiving), Old English, NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 5907

Note: okay if you know anything about business, I am so sorry cuz I don’t, I just did some quick research so if it just looks like a bunch of gibberish (Rosie and reader’s meeting), I am sorry! Also a lot of Rosie in the beginning, like zestial is mentioned but doesn’t show up until the shop is open for a little while.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

In your living, you've always appreciated the simplicity of nature-oriented lifestyle reminiscent of earlier eras. It's not that you have anything against new technologies; you own a smartphone and laptop, after all. What irks you is the over-consumerism perpetuated by planned obsolescence.

Your expectation when purchasing something is that it should function and endure, offering value for the time and money invested. The capitalist mindset, with its overproduction and resulting overconsumption, is something you strongly dislike.

Capitalism inherently creates a class conflict between capital and labor. While capitalists aim for high profits, workers may endure exploitation, receiving wages consistently lower than the true value of their labor.

When you had finally passed away due to a malfunctioning smart car and had discovered that even in the afterlife, people still had to work tirelessly to meet end means, you couldn't deny that you felt disappointed.

With a background in restoration, you secured a position in a somewhat upscale restaurant – well, upscale for Hell's pride ring standards. Although you initially started as a garbage boy, you quickly ascended the ranks to become a server.

Devoting longer hours than your colleagues, by choice, you harbored a goal beyond mere survival in the hellscape. You held an ambition, a genuine dream – to establish a tea salon and sustain yourself through it.

Envisioning your own establishment, you aimed to offer freshly baked treats and brewed tea for guests to enjoy while engaging in lively conversations and gossip.

You were well aware of whose assistance was crucial for your project. Overlord Rosie served as your golden ticket to a thriving salon. You needed her help to secure a building in the border zone shared by her and Overlord Zestial, as both of their people were of interest when envisioning the kind of establishment you hope to open.

After three months of relentless work and an additional month of patiently waiting for an appointment on her end, you finally managed to secure a meeting with the elegant cannibal;

"So, what do you have for me today, darling?" she inquires.

"Well, Madam Rosie—" you begin, but you're promptly interrupted by the demon before you.

"Oh, dear, no need for all those 'madam' formalities for a sweet thing like you. Just call me Rosie. But if you insist on honorifics, then ‘Miss Rosie’ will do!" The leader of Hell's cannibal district and owner of the Rosie emporium cheerfully encourages you to address her casually. Despite the power difference, her amiable attitude eases any tension surrounding your sales pitch.

"Oh, very well then. Ahem, Miss Rosie, I'd like to seek your assistance for a passion project of mine," you pause, collecting your thoughts.

"I'm interested in opening a tea salon. It's been four months since I arrived in hell, and I've been searching extensively for the perfect building. Coincidentally, it's situated on your side of the shared border zone with Overlord Zestial. I understand it's not owned by you as part of the border zone, but being on the edge of your colony grants you some jurisdiction."

"Is that so," she replies, sipping her tea. "I appreciate the idea of a tea salon near my territory. Please elaborate more about the idea itself."

"Of course! I personally dislike the over-consumerism that existed on Earth and persists in hell. My goal is to establish one or two shops at most—something familial and local instead of a big chain. I aim to offer freshly baked and brewed drinks for my customers, who would come from all over the Pentagram. I do acknowledge that most of my clientele would be from your people, Overlord Zestial's, and those from the Radio Demon's territory. A simple analysis suggests that sinners from those areas may be more in tune with the concept, as they hail from eras when such establishments were more common," you explain.

"Well, that's all delightful, darling, but, as you rightly point out, the concept isn't foreign in these circles. Your salon is certainly not the first in these parts. No offense to your aspirations, but I'm struggling to see what sets you apart, something that would entice me to invest."

"As for standing out, I may or may not have direct access to products from the living world," you reveal, prompting Rosie to set down her cup.

"Well, isn't that interesting?" she remarks, now more intrigued.

"Yes, indeed it is. I can assure you that not only would my products be fresh, but they would exclusively feature ingredients from the living world – a culinary experience many down here yearn for. Additionally, I can promise you the highest quality of tea, such as Ceylon," you confidently declare.

"And how would someone like you, who sought an Overlord's assistance, have access to such materials? I'm not necessarily doubting you, but connecting the dots is a bit challenging," she says joyfully.

"Oh, I apologize, but I cannot disclose the identities of my procurers. I've signed an NDA as obtaining items from the world upstairs isn't their primary business. Additionally this avoids attracting requests from other companies, I'm afraid they'll have to remain nameless," you explain.

"Well, isn't that convenient for you, fufufu~ I suppose you'll have to prove your word in other ways," she remarks.

"Indeed, perhaps I have an idea on how to do so that you'd like to hear," you suggest.

"I'm all ears," she replies.

"I've noticed there's a kitchen in this building, so I was contemplating rescheduling another meeting soon after this one. During that meeting, I plan not only to bring in earthly ingredients but also to bake something for you. This would showcase my kitchen skills while simultaneously proving my capability to provide the desired products," you express.

"Well, that does seem feasible. I'll pencil you in for next Monday," she replies, jotting something down on her notepad that had been on the coffee table since the start of the meeting. "Now, shall we discuss payment?" she asks.

"Yes, please. As mentioned earlier, I'll handle the supply for my business. What I need from you is assistance in acquiring the building, help with renovations since it's a bit run-down, and perhaps some promotion to your people concerning work, as I'll still require staff when I eventually open. I've checked the listing for the building itself, and I have more than enough for the purchase. However, when renovations and promoting are considered, my budget becomes a bit tight. I was thinking of a BNPL for that part," you explain.

"Alright then, that doesn't seem too bad. How about this: I get 10% of the overall monthly revenue from your establishment. I still need to make some money, after all, fufufu~ Additionally, we can consider a 1-year BNPL plan to repay the renovation loan. And one more thing: to prove your establishment's worth, aim for a minimum 20% net profit by the end of the year since opening day. How does that sound to you?" she inquires.

"10 percent isn't too stiff, but a 20% net profit may be a little challenging in only a year of business. However, I believe in my dream!" you cheerfully exclaim.

"I'm glad you agree, though I still need some collateral for your loan. But let's discuss that after I get to see your skills in action," she tells you a bit more seriously.

"Makes sense," you reply.

"I think that's all for today unless you still have something to talk about," she asks.

"No, that's all from my side," you tell her.

"Wonderful, darling! I hope to see you Monday at 12:35 a.m.," she says as she stands up and points to the door.

"Yes, so do I," you respond as you exit the room.

Leaving her building, you were more than pleased that the meeting had gone well. Once home, as you collapsed on your couch, releasing all your stress, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the chance encounter with that imp during your first month in hell;

On that day, you had ventured to imp city for errands, finding Carmine products a bit too pricey for your liking. Seeking an alternative for self-defense, you visited a gun shop there.

Exiting the store, you witnessed a heartbreaking scene—an imp being beaten up by a group of sinners, degrading names thrown at him. While you refrained from intervening, as it wasn't your place, the revelation that they were targeting the imp simply because he was an imp, compelled you to approach and ensure he wasn't fatally harmed.

Before you could rouse his battered form with a shake, he uttered, "The hell you want."

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," you reassure him.

"Bullshit," he retorts loudly. "Listen, fucking pickpocket, those assholes already took everything I had on me, besides my clothes. And I sure as hell won't be stroll down these motherfucking streets in my underwear. So, if you wanted anything, too bad, now you have until the count of ten before I blow a hole in your skull," he rudely warns.

"First of all, I'm not going to rob you. Second, how are you going to shoot me if you just said you had nothing on you? And thirdly, I was serious about checking on you. It's unfair that they beat you up just for being an imp. It's messed up, honestly. Since sinners don't have specific races like back on Earth, they just go after other beings to exercise their racist ideology," you say.

"Humans sure do love their racism," he remarks, still untrusting but more open to conversation.

"Sinners are down here for a reason, but hellspawns are different. They're currently living their lives, just like humans did back on Earth. And yet, the damned are considered superior? That's just messed up," you express sincerely. In your view, hell's hierarchy wasn't fair. ‘If this was the sinners' punishment, why categorize them as better than imps—creatures born here, not getting punished for misconduct.’

With that sentiment resonating in your words, the imp seemed more at ease as he responded to your next words. "Anyways, you need medical attention. Let's get to a hospital."

"Do you have the money for medical bills, or even the admission fee? 'Cause I sure don't," he replies, a grin on his face, strangely charming despite his black eye and cut lips.

"Yeah, sorry, pal. I can't afford the rates for treating you; I'm saving for something big," you convey with sadness in your voice.

He chuckles at your honesty. "Thought so," he replies, allowing his body to rest against the brick wall of the alley even more, as if surrendering.

"My place is far from here. Do you have any first aid supplies at yours?" you inquire, a slight panic setting in, concerned that if he fell asleep, he might not make it, even though he wasn't bleeding excessively. Yet, he didn't appear likely to stay conscious much longer.

"Yeah, but it's too far from here," he begins, heightening your anxiety. "Though my office isn't. There's some there too," he adds, his eyes glossy, appearing on the verge of passing out at any moment.

"Alright then, just give me the address, and I'll take you there," he somewhat reluctantly grumbled out the location before passing out.

Entering the address into your phone's search engine and hoisting the imp onto your back, you walked to the location.

Quite aware that cab drivers might attempt to take extort you, especially considering you were a human carrying an injured imp, you opted for the slower but more cost-effective walking route, reaching the destination in about 25 minutes.

Climbing the stairs to the seventh floor drained your energy, but your adrenaline surged upon encountering a hellhound and two imps inside the office.

The hellhound growled and barked aggressively, while the female imp simultaneously yelled and prepared for a fight. The only one not seeing red was the male imp, who was trying to make sense of the situation.

"What the hell happened to Blitzø!??" the hellhound demanded.

"Yeah, what the hell did you do to him!?!??" the female imp added, brandishing a knife.

"Millie, calm down. If they brought him here, they're most likely not the ones who hurt him," the male imp reasoned with the female.

"Yeah, it wasn't me. He got beaten up by a group of supremacist sinners," you explained as you gently placed him on the couch in the room. "He told me he had a first aid kit here, so I brought him here as neither he nor I could afford the hospital bills."

"And how can we be sure you aren't part of the jerks who hurt him, huh?" the female imp asked, her nerves still on edge, clearly showing concern for the imp. ‘Well, no, Millie showed concern a lot about Blitz.’

"You can just ask him when he wakes up, but right now, he needs help. So, can any of you bring the kit, and we'll get this over with."

With reluctance, the hellhound, whom you soon learned was named Luna, retrieved the kit and left the healing to the male imp, Moxxie. They preferred you not to touch him any further.

After briefly stepping out to grab some missing antiseptic, you observed as they took care of him. You had convinced your way into staying until he awoke; the thought that his injuries might be worse than you initially thought haunted you, and you couldn't bear the idea that he might have died if you hadn't brought him here fast enough.

After Blitzø had regained consciousness, he thanked you and offered a 50% discount on your first kill. Curious about the statement, you informed him that you weren't aware of what his company specialized in. He somewhat joyfully played their commercial for you.

Finding it all very intriguing, you inquired about the possibility of them visiting the living world for a different purpose, which he confirmed but clarified it wasn't their company's business.

Tugging a bit at their heartstrings, particularly after saving Blitzø, you divulged your ambitions. To stand out and make your dream a reality, you needed something unique, and they held the key to it. Your request was for them to procure ingredients from the human world.

Blitzø exhibited reluctance, but Millie underwent a 180-degree shift, genuinely eager to assist you, with her husband supporting her. After some persuasion, you struck a deal with I.M.P. In exchange for 5/7 of the usual kill price and keeping things on the down low, they agreed to provide you with a weekly shipment of the groceries.

Returning to the present, it was now Monday, and you found yourself 10 minutes ahead of schedule, standing in front of Rosie's emporium with a large cooler containing your ingredients.

An employee inside noticed you through the sizable glass entry doors and came out to guide you to the kitchen. They assured you that they would inform Rosie of your arrival and gave you the green light to start setting up.

True to your word, you efficiently prepared the kitchen, and right on schedule, Rosie arrived to find a clean and ready-to-use workspace, along with the promised fresh and earthy ingredients;

"Looks like you're a woman of your word, aren't you, dear?" Rosie remarked as she grabbed some dairy products and checked the expiration dates on them.

"Of course, and I wouldn't even dream of lying to you in the first place," you assured her.

"Oh, how trustworthy you are, fufufu~" she teased.

"Of course, now should I begin?" you asked, and she replied affirmatively.

With that, the baking commenced. Your choice of treat for today was a Charlotte au fraise. In about 35 minutes, you finished the preparation.

The dessert needed to chill for 8 hours in the fridge, but anticipating such a wait, you had invested in a 'chill crystal' for today and the future. This crystal is essential for cooks and bakers alike in hell as it significantly reduces the time a dish needs to be refrigerated.

Using it, your 8 hours turned into 25 minutes. During that time, you cleaned your equipment and the kitchen and, of course, brewed some tea for Rosie.

Upon reaching the 25-minute mark, you brought out the cake, cut a slice for Rosie, and served her a cup of tea. She relished every last bit of it;

"This was all wonderful, y/n," she expressed. "I am sure of it now, I will definitely invest in your dream!"

"Oh, thank you, Miss Rosie! You don't know how much this means to me!" you exclaimed joyfully.

"I'm glad I can help. But now that we've agreed I'll lend my assistance to you on your adventure, I still need you to agree on the collateral for the BNPL I want."

"Oh, of course. What is it?" you asked.

"Well, it's elementary, dear. What I want is... your soul!" she told you.

"Oh, well, that's only until I pay you back, right?" You asked worriedly.

"Yes, of course. If everything goes well and you pay me back before the deadline, you'll get your soul back. But if you exceed the time limit, your soul will indefinitely belong to me. I hope you understand that," she explained.

With a gulp, you spoke up, "I understand, Miss. Rosie."

"Wonderful, then... 'It's a deal,'" she declared, and with those words, a bright pink contract materialized, altering the entire room's shade. Nervously, you picked up a pen from the table and signed your soul away.

As you pulled away from the contract, a pink chain momentarily appeared around your neck, then vanished in a flash along with the contract.

The demonstration went well, and you got what you wanted. While having your soul signed away was nerve-racking, you believed that if you made your vision work in time, it would return to you.

You begin to double your efforts, working your ass off harder than before. On your days off from the restaurant, you checked on the renovations of your building, and about a month later, everything was completed. After a long time of sucking up to the influential guests of the restaurant, you earned enough money to quit and open your shop.

With Rosie's promotion to her people, you efficiently built a staff, even recruiting some from other districts. On the 7th of August, you finally opened the doors to your shop, and it turned out to be a tremendous success.

The turnout exceeded expectations, but you had trained your staff to handle it. Business was booming, meeting Rosie's conditions in about 5 months instead of a year.

Just as you had envisioned, people from all over the pentagram flocked to enjoy the services your establishment provided. Surprisingly, sinners from Zestial'd district emerged as your number 1 clientele, surpassing even Rosie's people.

With your salon becoming the hot topic of his district, it caught the interest of the governing overlord. Since his people were captivated by your establishment, he decided to pay a visit himself. And so he did.

Upon the first approach to the building, he was delighted by the overall aesthetic.

While he wasn't from the era when salons first became popular, being about two centuries older, the entire ambiance brought a sense of nostalgia, even though he wasn't alive when they gained popularity.

Another aspect that pleased him was the evident respect guests and staff showed to the establishment during a service. People were polite, and the quality of the food served was impeccable.

He was currently enjoying a cup of tea with none other than Rosie, discussing the success of the establishment;

"You've madeth a valorous investment, mine lief friend. This salon is nothing but successful; you've hath found quite the gem,” Zestial complimented Rosie as he sipped his tea.

Setting her cup down, Rosie responded, "Oh, quite the contrary, Zestial. My dear little owner was the one who reached out. Sparkles in her eyes and a big dream in her heart. With hard work, she achieved those ambitions, beating my expectations and regaining her soul in less than half the time I expected."

"is yond so? Quite the guts and perseverance the lady hath,“ he replied, taking another sip of his tea.

"Yes, though I honestly didn't expect your people to enjoy this place so much. Really messed up my calculations," she said, playfully feigning frustration.

"well, sinners art inherently unpredictable creatures by nature. Plus," he paused to take a bite of a fruit tart on his plate, "with desserts like this, i don't expect anyone to intermit long ere coming to tryeth those folk for themselves. Speaking of which, i would love to compliment the owner and chef for such marvelous worketh, “ he said once he had swallowed his bite.

Rosie replied, "Well, that's the fun thing – they're both the same person. She works diligently as both showrunner and employee! But yes, I can get her if you truly wish to speak to her."

"yond would beest appreciated,“ he told her.

Meanwhile, you were on the phone with a decor company, trying to arrange something for Valentine's Day in a month – or more like Valentine's week, with new decor from the 7th to the 14th.

Once you hung up, Rosie entered the office and informed you of the situation. Without questions, you followed her into the main room of the salon, and let's just say you were nervous;

Gazing at your form, Zestial spoke out, "i wilt sayeth, miss y/n, i greatly enjoy thy establishment, and so doth mine people.”

"Oh— thank you so much, Zestial, sir, I- I mean, Mr. Zestial. Sorry, I meant Overlord Zestial! So sorry!" you stammer.

"quite the nervous one, isn’t the lady?" he did add with a bawbling chuckle. he said to Rosie, who only nodded in agreement. "well, nay needeth for worries. 'zestial' is quite fine, child." he added with a small chuckle.

"Oh, alright then. Thank you for your praise, Zestial," you said with a soft smile, which he returned. ‘Satan, was he handsome.’

"Hey, how come you call him by his name right away, and I'm still 'Miss Rosie'?" Rosie teased.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Rosie. I've just gotten used to it," you replied, and they both laughed at your flustered state.

This soon became a common occurrence for you, and quickly after that, Zestial came more and more often to the point that your salon became Zestial's meeting spot when discussing business. Consequently, he had his own VIP room for such occurrences.

Simultaneously, you grew closer with the Overlord, becoming more comfortable around him. About a month later, you found yourself crushing on the man, giving him a fair amount of treats on the house to show affection.

And don't think said affection went unnoticed by him. Being an old soul like him brought wisdom, especially in the romance department.

Actually, Zestial himself found himself enamored with you, leading to him declaring his desire to court you;

You were tidying up the VIP room after one of Zestial's meetings, swiping down the table. As you prepared to leave the room, the Overlord spoke up.

"y/n, darling, may i hath't a word with thee?” he asked.

"Yes, of course, Zestial. What do you need?" you replied, your voice slightly quivering, because, 'fuck, did you love the fact he started calling you romantic pet names.'

"well, mine lovely business owner, i hath't to admit something to thee, so prithee did put the rag down and sitteth, " he requested. You obliged. "It seems that I have found mys"'t seemeth yond i hath't did find myself having fallen for thee,“ he began, making your breath hitch.

"i eke did notice yond thee seemeth to feeleth the same, or am i wrong?" he inquired, causing you to shake your head and answer with a weak, flustered 'no.' "did doth bethink so," he said with a chuckle. "then, as we both feeleth for one another, i'd like to court thee, unless thee hath't something 'gainst me doing so.”

"Yes— I mean no, well, um, shit," you stammered. Taking a breath, you spoke out again. "What I meant to say was, yes, I would love to be courted by you, more than anything, actually," you admitted.

Standing up, walking behind you, and wrapping his arm around your figure, he leaned down to your ear. "well, isn't yond perfect. I can't wait to hath't thee all to myself still,“ he whispered, somewhat sensually, leaving you in shock yet longing for more when he pulled away.

And with that, the courtship began. You found yourself taken out for nights on the town to nice restaurants, sweet notes and love poems left in your office for you to see, and evenings spent at his castle in the fireplace room, listening as he serenaded you, oh so lovingly.

You honestly couldn't wait for you and him to become official. You might have thought that being spoken for after such a short time was idiotic in the past, but Zestial was just so perfect and all you needed in your afterlife. It was obvious that you would marry as soon as he asked you.

About 5 months after your initial meeting, you found yourself dining with your suitor at quite the fancy restaurant, fancier than the one you used to work at actually.

"how art thee liking thy food, mine sweet y/n?” Zestial inquired.

"Yes, it's wonderful. What about yours, Zestial?" you asked back.

"everything is eke wonderful on mine end, " he replied, then added on, "Mine darling, would thee mind stopping thy meal for an instant? I'd like to break with an important matter with thee.”

"Oh, why, of course," you replied, putting down your utensils. You were now accustomed to Zestial and his ways, but his next move surprised you.

Zestial had stood up and got on his knees. "mine love, despite not having known thee for yond long did compare to mine long existence, i cannot see myself spending mine life beyond the grave without thee. Thou art high-sighted, talented, ingenious, and quite quaint, to a sir like me, and i would did bet many others, ye art quite literally breathtaking. Yond is accounting for thee as a whole, not just thy aesthetic attributes. So, y/n l/n, would thee doth me the honor of being thy husband for eternity?” He said as he pulled out a ring box, opening it to reveal a beautiful green diamond ring.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you gasped in surprise, your eyes widened at the stunning ring before you. The green diamond sparkled, capturing the essence of your feelings.

"Oh, Zestial..." You trailed off, a wave of happiness and love washing over you. Tears of joy glistened in your eyes as you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, a thousand times yes!" you exclaimed, your heart pounding with excitement. Zestial's face lit up with a radiant smile as he gently slipped the ring onto your finger.

As the dazzling gem adorned your hand, sealing the promise of eternity, Zestial rose from his kneeling position. You both shared a tender embrace, sealing the moment with a passionate kiss. The restaurant's ambiance faded away as you were immersed in the warmth of Zestial's affection.

The patrons and staff discreetly applauded, offering their congratulations to the newly engaged couple. Zestial held you close, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions.

"to our dateless love,“ he whispered, and you clinked your glasses together in a toast. The night continued, now infused with the magic of your commitment to each other.

From that moment forward, you and Zestial embarked on a beautiful journey, navigating the twists and turns of the afterlife hand in hand, bound by an eternal love that transcended time and existence.

And so, your wedding unfolded in a splendid ceremony. Radiant in your role, you felt like a true queen that day, with Rosie officiating and injecting humor into the proceedings, eliciting laughter from you, Zestial, and your guests.

The day was a jubilant celebration, offering you the chance to become better acquainted with Zestial's fellow overlords, including Carmilla Carmine: Holy Arms Dealer and Alastor: The Radio Demon. Despite their contrasting personalities, they played nice for the sake of the occasion.

However, that was a few hours ago. Now, with the reception concluded, all the guests had departed, leaving you and Zestial in the intimate confines of his castle, specifically, his bedroom.

Following tradition, this was the night of your nuptials, the night where you and Zestial would come together as one for the first time;

Seated at the edge of the king-size bed in your now shared room, you adorned yourself in an exquisite, intricately embroidered transparent nightgown, awaiting Zestial.

The faint click of the door drew your attention, and your now-husband entered, pushing the door open with a subtle yet confident gesture.

"Well, mine dearest bride, “ Zestial said, his voice filled with an underlying lustfulness that sent shivers down your spine. "'t seemeth we finally hath't some time high-lone.” He stepped closer to you, his presence filling up the entire room.

You could feel his eyes roaming over your exposed body, drinking in every inch of you like a starving demon discovering a feast fit for a king. While you tried hard not to squirm or show any signs of discomfort, your heart raced faster than it ever had before as he spoke words of praise.

"T-thank you, Zestial," you managed to croak out, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach.

His voice dripping with false surprise. "thee behold absolutely stunning in yond gown, y/n.”

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to caress your exposed thighs, his touch sending electric shocks coursing through your entire body. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, fighting the urge to whimper aloud as he continued to tease you. ‘Were you always this needy?’

"art thee eft for me to claim what is rightfully mine?” he asked, his eyes flashing with hunger.

You nodded vigorously, as he slowly undressed himself, revealing his tall, imposing frame covered in black fabric that clung tightly to his lithe figure. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants.

As he stood before you, nude except for his dark briefs, you couldn't help but marvel at his imposing presence. He towered over you like a giant spider, his erect member straining against the thin fabric of his boxers.

Trembling slightly, you open your legs, inviting him to climb onto the bed and join you. Without hesitation, Zestial crawled onto the mattress, positioning himself between your spread legs. He leaned forward, his mouth hovering inches away from your pussy, his breath hot against your sensitive folds.

"Tell me, mine own lief jointress," he purred, his voice low and husky. "Would thee liketh me to gust thee first?”

A shiver ran down your spine as you replied, your voice cracking slightly. "Yes... please..."

Zestial's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your sensitive flesh. You let out a soft moan as he began to tease you, tracing light kisses along your thighs and inner thighs before finally reaching your wet, quivering entrance.

He sucked on your sensitive folds, causing your hips to buck and writhe involuntarily.

As he continued his lewd assault on your most intimate areas, his tongue darted out to lick and circle your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You arched your back, crying out his name, your nails digging into the sheets as he relentlessly pleasured you.

"Oh, Satan... Zestial!" You panted, your breath coming in short gasps. "I'm going to—I'm almost there!"

"Good girl," Zestial growled, his voice thick with desire. He increased the pace of his assault, sucking harder on your clit and thrusting his tongue deeper into your wetness.

Your moans turned into incoherent moans of pure ecstasy as he brought you closer to the edge of orgasm.

Just as you felt you were about to cum, he suddenly pulled away, leaving you craving more. "Not yet, mine own dram naughty bride," he purred. "We haven't begun yet. “

He stood up straight again, his hardened member now fully exposed, throbbing with anticipation. "do thee wanteth me to filleth thee up anon?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.

You panted heavily, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Yes, please, Zestial," you pleaded, your voice hoarse from your intense arousal. "I need you inside me."

“Are thee sure mine own loveth, thy so bawbling i’m afraid i might breaketh thee. ” He teased, which only made whine pleadingly.

Without further ado, Zestial positioned himself between your spread legs once more. Slowly, he pushed himself into your tight, wet entrance, filling you up to the brim.

A mixture of pain and pleasure radiated throughout your body as he began to thrust rhythmically, his massive member stretching and stretching you further than you ever thought possible.

Each thrust was accompanied by a low groan from both of you, the sounds of your bodies slapping together filling the quiet room.

Your nails clawed at the sheets, leaving long, deep scratches in the fabric as he pounded into you relentlessly. Your orgasm built up faster than before, approaching its peak once more.

"Cum f'r me, mine own lief," Zestial growled, his eyes blazing with lust. "Let wend and releaseth all yond pent-up desire. “

You cried out his name, your body convulsing violently as you climaxed again, your juices coating his member and dripping down your thighs.

Your orgasm seemed to fuel him further, and he picked up the pace, thrusting faster and harder than ever before.

"Yes! More, give me more!" You begged, your voice barely recognizable from the pleasure that consumed you.

As your body continued to shake with each powerful thrust, Zestial groaned deeply, his fingers digging into your hips for support. Suddenly, he groaned loudly, his entire body tensing up before shooting his hot seed deep inside of you, filling you completely.

Finally, he pulled out of you, his cock still twitching as he collapsed beside you on the bed. Panting heavily, he reached over and brushed a strand of sweat-drenched hair from your forehead.

"That wast. quite wond'rful," he managed to croak out between heavy breaths. "Howev'r, i doubteth a single round shall suffice to satisfyeth mine own needeth, consid'ring i've been anticipating this moment f'r months. ”

“Oh.” Was all you had the time to say before your night of passion continues.

"Thank you, Zestial," you panted, your own breath returning to normal. "That was... amazing."

You reached over and caressed his cheek, your fingers trailing down to his chin. "Could we... do it again sometime?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes softening slightly. "Of course, mine own lief jointress," he replied, chuckling at your somewhat innocent neediness, his voice still husky with satisfaction. "We has't all the timeth in this hellish w'rld togeth'r anon. "

You lay there for a while, basking in their post-coital bliss, their hearts racing in sync. Eventually, Zestial stirred, moving closer to you. "Do thee needeth aught else bef're we retireth f'r the night?” he asked, his hand trailing down your stomach to rest on your hipbone.

“No, I just want you close to me.” You answered,

“Of course.” he replied softly, placing a kiss on your forehead as you fell asleep in each other’s arms….

Old English in order of apparition;

"You've madeth a valorous investment, mine lief friend. This salon is nothing but successful; you've hath found quite the gem, ” = "You've made a good investment, my friend. This salon is nothing but successful; you've found quite the gem,”

"is yond so? Quite the guts and perseverance the lady hath,“ = "Is that so? Quite the guts and perseverance she has,"

"well, sinners art inherently unpredictable creatures by nature. Plus," = "Well, sinners are inherently unpredictable creatures by nature. Plus,"

"with desserts like this, i don't expect anyone to intermit long ere coming to tryeth those folk for themselves. Speaking of which, i would love to compliment the owner and chef for such marvelous worketh, “ = "with desserts like this, I don't expect anyone to resist long before coming to try them for themselves. Speaking of which, I would love to compliment the owner and chef for such marvelous work,"

"yond would beest appreciated,“ = "That would be appreciated,"

"i wilt sayeth, miss y/n, i greatly enjoy thy establishment, and so doth mine people.” = "I must say, Miss Y/n, I greatly enjoy your establishment, and so do my people."

"quite the nervous one, isn’t the lady?" = "Quite the nervous one, isn’t she?"

"well, nay needeth for worries. 'zestial' is quite fine, child." = "Well, no need for worries. 'Zestial' is quite fine, child,"

"y/n, darling, may i hath't a word with thee?” he asked. = "Y/n, darling, may I have a word with you?"

"well, mine lovely business owner, i hath't to admit something to thee, so prithee did put the rag down and sitteth, " = "Well, my lovely business owner, I have to admit something to you, so please put the rag down and sit,"

"It seems that I have found mys"'t seemeth yond i hath't did find myself having fallen for thee,“ = "It seems that I have found myself having fallen for you,"

"i eke did notice yond thee seemeth to feeleth the same, or am i wrong?" = "I also noticed that you seem to feel the same, or am I wrong?"

"did doth bethink so," = "Thought so,"

"then, as we both feeleth for one another, i'd like to court thee, unless thee hath't something 'gainst me doing so.” = "Then, as we both feel for one another, I'd like to court you, unless you have something against me doing so."

"well, isn't yond perfect. I can't wait to hath't thee all to myself still,“ = "Well, isn't that perfect. I can't wait to have you all to myself forever,"

"how art thee liking thy food, mine sweet y/n?” = "How are you liking your food, my sweet Y/N?"

"everything is eke wonderful on mine end, " = "Everything is also wonderful on my end,"

"Mine darling, would thee mind stopping thy meal for an instant? I'd like to break with an important matter with thee.” = "My darling, would you mind stopping your meal for an instant? I'd like to discuss an important matter with you."

"mine love, despite not having known thee for yond long did compare to mine long existence, i cannot see myself spending mine life beyond the grave without thee. Thou art high-sighted, talented, ingenious, and quite quaint, to a sir like me, and i would did bet many others, ye art quite literally breathtaking. Yond is accounting for thee as a whole, not just thy aesthetic attributes. So, y/n l/n, would thee doth me the honor of being thy husband for eternity?” = "My love, despite not having known you for that long compared to my long existence, I cannot see myself spending my life beyond the grave without you. You're ambitious, talented, ingenious, and beautiful, to a man like me, and I would bet many others, you are quite literally breathtaking. That is accounting for you as a whole, not just your aesthetic attributes. So, Y/N L/N, would you do me the honor of being your husband for eternity?"

"to our dateless love,“ = "To our everlasting love,"

"Well, mine dearest bride, “ = "Well, my dearest bride,"

"'t seemeth we finally hath't some time high-lone.” = "It seems we finally have some time alone."

"thee behold absolutely stunning in yond gown, y/n.”= "You look absolutely stunning in that gown, y/n."

"art thee eft for me to claim what is rightfully mine?” = "Are you ready for me to claim what is rightfully mine?"

"tell me, mine own lief jointress," = "Tell me, my dear wife,"

"Would thee liketh me to gust thee first?” = "Would you like me to taste you first?"

"not yet, mine own dram naughty bride," = "Not yet, my little naughty bride,"

"We haven't begun yet. “ = "We haven't begun yet."

"do thee wanteth me to filleth thee up anon?” = "Do you want me to fill you up now?"

“are thee sure mine own loveth, thy so bawbling i’m afraid i might breaketh thee. ” = “Are you sure my love, your so small I’m afraid I might break you.”

"Cum f'r me, mine own lief," = "Cum for me, my dear,"

"Let wend and releaseth all yond pent-up desire. “= "Let go and release all that pent-up desire."

"That wast. quite wond'rful," = "That was... quite wonderful,"

"Howev'r, i doubteth a single round shall suffice to satisfyeth mine own needeth, consid'ring i've been anticipating this moment f'r months. ” = "However, I doubt a single round will suffice to satisfy my needs, considering I've been anticipating this moment for months.”

"Of course, mine own lief jointress," = “Of course, my dear wife,"

"We has't all the timeth in this hellish w'rld togeth'r anon. " = "We have all the time in this hellish world together now.”

"do thee needeth aught else bef're we retireth f'r the night?” = "Do you need anything else before we retire for the night?"

Thanks anon for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

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[hallowedmistress]

stardew sexuality hcs!

bachelors + bachelorettes

alex

definitely gay

grew up in a homophobic, religious family

first time he saw gay people was on tv on a news program about same-sex marriage being legalised

george immediately turned it off in disdain and evelyn distracted him with some food, but the thought lingered at the back of his mind

as he grows up, he collects sports magazines. more often with lean, muscular men on the covers than not

he suppresses it for years but it comes to a head when the cute new farmer moves in

and the rest is history

elliott

homoflexible

knew he was into men since he was very young

his family wasn't pleased to say the least. their only son, gay and a writer? the blasphemy.

didn't dare confess to any of his childhood crushes because he grew up in a pretty old fashioned area

instead wrote letters and stuffed them into used cans and threw them into the sea

lived in zuzu city for a short while before moving to stardew valley, had a relatively unhealthy lifestyle of drinking and hookups and no sleep. the cabin on the beach helped with his insomnia

very rarely attracted to women; usually into the type of women who mistake him for a lesbian

sam

unlabelled

leans more towards men

vincent called him weird at first but wrapped his head around it pretty quick

jodi doesn't talk about it but she just wants him to be happy and not hide any part of himself

kent absolutely flips when sam brings the farmer, his boyfriend, over

they make it work. kent warms up to the farmer, and the strict military rules drilled into his head slowly come undone

he reluctantly tells sebastian he likes guys at the saloon one night while abigail isn't around. sebastian just says 'huh', and beats him at pool.

sebastian

queer, on the aromantic spectrum

never really thought about romance. he has enough to deal with by himself, why should he want someone else?

has a little crush on sam when they're kids

only realises it was romantic when sam tells him that he likes guys. and sebastian realises oh, i can do that.

he doesn't really tell anyone but he blurts it out to his mother one afternoon

robin is supportive, and curious at first

demetrius... doesn't say much.

after kissing sam for a dare, he huddles inside a blanket with a red face for a whole day

harvey

heteroflexible

he likes women, but likes the occasional buff man

he's vocal with his support of the community, and pins up a pride flag on the clinic's wall

he lost a trans girlfriend to suicide back in the city. it sticks with him, and he makes sure to respectfully inquire about all his patients' mental health and if they need anything

he likes the farmer for their cool, confident demeanor regardless of their gender.

shane

straight

never thought about his sexuality

kissed a few of his homies back in college before he dropped out

hasn't really "fallen" for anyone before the farmer

abigail

bisexual

this girl is so, so bi

she definitely read manga on sites named stuff like yaoiparadiseheaven growing up

always shipped the protagonist and rival in pokemon games

has a few bi pride pins. pierre hates it and wants her to tone it down, but she refuses. loud and proud

caroline chides her, but is secretly proud of her and even buys her some sapphic movie dvds

haley

lesbian

it's complicated. she knows she has some sort of comphet, and she hates it

she wants to be out to the whole town just to prove a point, but she wants to present as straight at the same time just to feel more accepted

she flirts with guys and then feels like throwing up

she tries to flirt with girls and ends up insulting them

she and abigail have some sort of sapphic jealousy thing going on

when the farmer comes to town, abigail knows she's head-over-heels for the butch immediately despite her previous insistence that she only likes femme women

leah

definitely a lesbian

chill about it. she doesn't tell anyone, but she doesn't hide it

she has a vase painted the lesbian colours

her ex from the city is non-binary

she doesn't expect to fall for the farmer at all, but ends up yearning for months

boldly sculpts a messy piece of two women kissing

she and male!farmer would talk about women together

penny

her labels keep changing

she's into women, and into pretty guys.

she used to always keep an eye out for the woman who worked the jojamart counter

pam catches her reading a lesbian romance once, and penny fears the worst

instead, pam just nods and mentions she went out with some women herself and penny just stops in her tracks wide-eyed

when she first meets the farmer, she can't stop blushing around them

maru

she never really fathomed being attracted to men in the first and doesn't get why demetrius is so against her having male friends

demetrius is obnoxiously supportive once he finds out. the farmer sighs every time they walk in on an overly large display of support

he celebrates her coming-out anniversary every year

lesbian in stem

she's also on the asexual spectrum. something like demisexual, maybe. she doesn't have it figured out yet

emily

pansexual, and open about it

every time someone asks if she has a boyfriend, she corrects them to 'significant other'.

romance doesn't work like 'normal' to her

every friendship has a little romance, and every romance has a lot of friendship. isn't that the best way to live?

she's very affectionate. with friends, family, s/o's, anyone.

[cuntrygirlcallista]

you need him? i could be him

mattheo riddle x reader

Why you should break up with your boyfriend (and get back with Mattheo)

When you and Mattheo broke up, it was civil, an agreement between you both that you were better off as friends, at least for the time being...

This all began when you started dating a French transfer student who was sorted into Hufflepuff—a choice that, in Mattheo's opinion, just wasn't right for you, for obvious reasons, of course.

1. You didn’t even know if you liked him

"Are you sure you like him?" Mattheo inquired, tilting his head while glancing over at the boy walking toward you. "Matty." you warn in a blank tone. He turned towards you, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t look at me like that. You do this every time I’m interested in someone." "Do what?" "Give me reasons not to, and I refuse to let you do it this time." The conversation ended abruptly as your new little transfer student made his way over, shooting a quick “hello” to Mattheo to be polite and asking to walk you to your next class. Mattheo just scoffed inwardly as the two of you walked away. He knows you, and he knew if you really liked frenchy, you wouldn’t care what he had to say.

2. The both of you had nothing in common

Yes, sometimes opposites do attract, but in Mattheo's opinion, the two of you just weren't an ideal match. You enjoyed small amounts of PDA, like hand-holding and quick pecks—simple gestures that brought you joy. However, your boyfriend despised any public displays of affection, creating a noticeable contrast between your preferences. While you excelled as a diligent student, you also relished in the thrill of partying, letting loose, and embracing moments of pure fun, a lifestyle that clashed with your boyfriend's more reserved nature.

"I don’t understand why you're so upset," you said, frustration evident in your voice. "I don’t understand you at all," your boyfriend replied, packing up his things and leaving your dorm room. All you did was ask to reschedule your weekly study date because you’d promised Pansy you’d go with her to Draco’s party. The two of you could study any other time. Expecting your boyfriend to be a little upset due to losing time spent with you, instead, he went on a tangent about how unserious you are about your academics and even mentioned he wasn’t sure how the two of you were even dating because of how “different” you were.

and Mattheo had to agree.

3. He was too jealous, for example

It was a generally nice day at Hogwarts. The school year was winding down, the weather was pleasant, and you were studying with your boyfriend in the courtyard, surrounded by books and snacks on a blanket. You glance up from your books upon hearing the familiar voices of your favorite Slytherin boys. Draco, Mattheo, Theo, and Blaise emerge from Quidditch practice, looking a bit worse for wear but in good spirits, teasing each other. Pansy follows behind them. Spotting you, they hurry over, eager to talk to you. Amidst laughter and half-finished stories, you learn that Mattheo narrowly avoided a bludger to the head in practice and fell off his broom while dodging it. "Matty, perhaps I could offer you a basic broom skills lesson. I've been assisting the first years, and I'd be happy to help you," you playfully tease.

He flips you off, but instead of responding to your teasing, he asks, "Where's your little boyfriend gone off to?" You scan the courtyard, puzzled by his absence. Unbeknownst to you, Mattheo had been observing closely. He noticed the immediate stiffening of your boyfriend's face when the group approached and the sneer he gave when you affectionately called him “Matty” in your normal, all too sweet tone. Eventually, Mattheo observed your boyfriend getting up and walking away, seemingly conceding to your friends.

4. He couldn’t compete with Mattheo

Everyone in your close circle recognized that Mattheo was the perfect match for you, and eventually, your boyfriend came to the same realization.

He observed the softness in your eyes when you looked at Mattheo, how you would relax upon hearing his voice, and the laughter-filled conversations that defined your interactions, with Mattheo always striving to keep you smiling. How you’d scold Draco for mockingly calling your boyfriend “frenchy” but when Mattheo did it, it would conveniently go unheard.

The final straw was witnessing how quickly you rushed to Mattheo's side after the two fought. As the Slytherin boy stood victorious over the fallen figure of your boyfriend, it was Mattheo's well-being that concerned you the most. While your boyfriend lay beaten on the ground, Mattheo's bruised knuckles seemed of little consequence, yet it was his welfare that captured your utmost attention.

Kneeling beside Mattheo, you overlooked the Slytherin boy's smirk, attentively inspecting his bruised knuckles with worry as he reassured you of his well-being, telling everyone involved where your loyalty resided—always with Mattheo.

Though unspoken it was unmistakably clear who your heart had long belonged to from the very beginning.

@cuntrygirlcallista

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Bound To You.

PAIRING: Modern!Dad!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 2,605.

SUMMARY: Domestic life with Aegon has been bliss thus far, yet there’s still one, pestering thing troubling his mind, and he won’t rest until he hears the word “yes”...

WARNINGS: nil.

A/N - I give you (chubby) Dad!Aegon!!! cause what’s more fluffier than DILF AEG?! I hope you all enjoy it! it’s not my finest work but the concept warms my heart, I hope it does yours xoxo

The long anticipated birthday was looming near, your birthday specifically, and Aegon was dead set on spoiling you, like never before, on your special day.

Since you’d both crossed paths in life, since your time in college, ultimately becoming romantically involved, he was eager to spoil you with a lavish, comfortable lifestyle, and costly gifts whatever the occasion may be. Growing up from wealth had its advantages, for instance price tags were never an issue…

Although, now 4 years down the line, you now had a third party entwined in your relationship: a beautiful, baby girl. She was only just at the cusp of entering her “terrible twos” and thus far, she was a god-sent angel. She had her father’s unique, ancestral Targaryen features: the violet eyes, platinum silver hair, and yet, her delicate details, the shape of her eyes and nose, made her a carbon copy of you.

Aegon was utterly smitten with her the moment you’d given birth: a grueling one yet worth every agonizing second. He was infatuated by her: her tiny frame engulfed by his massive size, the way her little fingers just managed to grip his pudgy pinky, and yet, he was ever so tender and cautious with her. He refused to let anyone near her proximity as she slept peacefully in the bassinet, let alone hold her, unless it was himself, you or his dearest mother to whom he trusted. Determined not to take any risks with his little princess, he was annoyingly protective over her. Even more so, he had more ammunition to spend his money carelessly. Whenever you guys were out and about, his wandering eyes would spot something precious that he felt his daughter just had to have.

“Oh Y/N, she would look the sweetest in this! Please! You can’t deny, she’d look so adorable!”

“C’mon hun, look at how she loves to play with it already! If I take it away, she’ll hate me!”

“Aeg she’s only 1, she has no use for so many clothes and toys that she’ll definitely outgrow and most likely out-love-”

Yet, there was no point in arguing, it was like talking to a brick wall. Aegon was stubborn with his ways, especially when it came to his little girl. It only heightened after eventually discovering that her first word was inevitably “Dada”, it drove Aegon ballistic, like he’d won the lottery, and the endless bragging that followed.

“Y/N did you hear that?! You heard it right? Grab me my phone- Say it again, princess!”

She was Daddy’s little, precious girl, that you could say with the greatest certainty.

****

“Bubba, now what are we going to get for Mumma?” Aegon softly coos, just above a whisper so only his little girl can hear, as he playfully bops her in his thick arms.

Too distracted with her new tiny doll, that Aegon sporadically caved in and bought just moments ago, he nervously glances over the stainless glass desk, an array of glistening jewels of all gems, carats and cuts, laid methodically out before him. If he could [more so if you would have allowed for it], he would buy the whole store out for you, although your prior prep talk a month ago, you made Aegon promise not to go above and beyond for such occasions.

“Is there anything I can help you with Sir?” The sudden, polite voice startled Aegon awake from the distraction of his own, deep thoughts, caught in a dilemma of what to choose. Met with the friendly smile of a middle-aged clerk woman, he returned the favor, even prompting his little girl to say “hi”, before she shyly buried her face against his chest, as he resumed explaining the situation at hand. After thoroughly inquiring, presenting Aegon with countless of stunning necklaces and bracelets, Aegon remained unconvinced.

“So sorry, how long did you say you’ve been with your wife for?” The saleswoman intrigued as she set aside the row of jewels Aegon had politely declined.

“Oh-Oh we’re not married. J-Just have a baby together… I mean not that I-I don’t or wouldn’t plan to, I just haven’t exactly decided when or how I’d ask.”

“Interesting- I mean I don’t mean to pry, I just assumed 4 years down the line, with a little one, perhaps she is expecting something soon… It seems you guys are pretty adaptable, go with the flow type of people. If you ask me, I think a potential engagement ring or even a promise ring, if you wish to buy some more time for a plan, would really surprise her in all the right ways.”

Spiraling in his own thoughts and memories, Aegon reminisced his relationship with you from the beginning. There was brutal truth to the stranger’s words, your relationship was neither premeditated nor were you each other’s type. In theory, on paper, Aegon and yourself would not work well, and yet against all odds you’d proven otherwise. Change and compromise, as you had always reasoned. As much as he hated to admit, neither was his little princess a planned circumstance… You’d fallen pregnant without thought, sometime after graduation and despite the fears and worries that parenthood foreshadowed, knowing you had each other to support and rely on, without the fear of abandonment, Aegon was comforted by the prospect of fatherhood.

“Sorry, Sir-I didn’t mean to meddle in your affairs. I was just suggesting perhaps-”

“No-No, it’s fine. If anything, you’ve just given me a reality check. I-uh-If it’s alright, I would very much like to see the rings, please? Hate to take up so much of your time.”

“Not a problem at all, Sir. Of course, I have just the perfect set in mind-” As the woman warmly agrees, she skims away momentarily, unlocking and bustling through the shelves of a drawer. In the meantime, Aegon’s little girl grows more and more restless in his arms, her little legs kicking and sprawling against Aegon’s plush tummy [he had grown quite a Dad bod, since fathering his first child, suffering from more cravings during your pregnancy than you]. Bored from the entertainment her doll had occupied her with, she now craved for her Daddy’s attention, eager to see what had kept him busy.

“I know, I know, baby. Home soon-” He softly whispers into her tiny ear, gently brushing her thick, platinum waves out of her eyes, as she nestles her tiny head onto his collar. Planting a small, faint kiss atop her head, her presence helped to reaffirm his decision.

“Finish getting Mumma a present, and then it’s nap time for you, hmm?”

****

“Surprise baby! Happy Birthday!” Aegon excitedly shouted, standing by the dining table with his baby securely wrapped in his arm: his other free hand warmly embracing your body.

The sight before you was, indeed, a welcoming one, quite rewarding after a tiresome, stressful day at work. Aegon had organized and prepared a feast for just the three of you all, desperate for something small, and intimate, any other festivities could wait for the weekend. He’d ordered your favorite takeout, and even set up the birthday cake with the candles burning bright, you knew by the intricate detailing of the chocolate cake, it was one that you’d most enjoyed and grown to love during your pregnancy.

“Aeg, this is all too much. You took the day off just for this, you didn’t have to!” You softly interject, as you plant a loving kiss on his plump cheek, before planting a tender forehead kiss on your little girl. A bright smile beaming across both their faces, you were content enough with their affections and presence.

“Don’t be serious, Y/N, this is the least I can do… If I had it my way, we’d be half-way across the world on some honeymoon type of vacation,” Aegon teased, although he was intent on being meticulous with his words, wanting to gain any, even the slightest bit of a reaction from you, to his instigation of proposing.

Ever since the saleswoman planted the idea of marriage, the thought had begun to sprout in his mind like a flower in the spring. Vivid, realistic visions began to swarm his mind, of the ring on your finger, you in a beautiful, custom wedding gown that you’d look so divine in, made perfectly to cater for your body, tight in all the right angles, walking down a lavishly designed alter towards him and your little girl waiting atop. Set in stone, that you’d be bound for each other in life and death. Also contemplating visions of your family expanding in numbers, his heart grew double in size by the thought. He desired for such visions to be a definite possibility, eager to prove to you that his devotion would remain timeless and undying, against all adversities.

“Honeymoon? That seems a little out of reach for us… Maybe one day,” You slyly comment back, exchanging a taunting wink to Aegon before, setting out the plates he’d piled on the table. In response, he could only meekly laugh. Your response was not as direct as he had hoped for, although he was willing to take the risk. For god’s sake, you had shared a child together… The word “no” would kill him, however, it would take death itself to greet the man before he was ever forced to leave you, it would take a beast like a dragon, to tear him from you…

****

“She’s fast asleep, poor thing, you must’ve exhausted her today! What’d you have her doing?” You quietly pestered Aegon, not wanting to awake the girl, as you exited her bedroom, returning to the kitchen as Aegon was finishing up tidying the dishes. Sated with the delicious food and cake, your daughter enjoyed herself lively with the little energy she had remaining. By the end of the celebrations, the poor girl was helplessly yawning soft “aww’s”, sighing, as she rubbed her heavy lids, falling fast asleep, melting away into her father’s lap, before you’d carried her off swiftly to bed.

“Our little princess helped me make a very important decision today… She helped me pick out the most perfect gift for you, or so I hope it will be.”

“Is that so?” You taunt, as your arms wrap around Aegon’s broad shoulders, enveloping around his dense neck, as your fingers run through his short, platinum strands. You feel his muscly arms snake around your waist, his rough hands sneakily squeezing at your clothed cheeks, encouragingly pushing your body forward as it presses against his sturdy physique. Despite the confidence in his gestures, Aegon could feel the anxiousness beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach: it was a possibility that you would say no, but if that was the case, why stay with him for so long? Why bear his child? Why not leave the moment you felt the relationship was no longer viable? He refused to believe you could be that cruel. Although you'd only briefly discussed the sacred notion of marriage, he knew you were not completely against it either. “If it happens, it happens” were your precise words, if he could correctly recall.

“You okay, Aeg? You seem distracted, my love?”

“Follow me-” His half-hearted smile eased your concerns, as he firmly held your hand, guiding you down the hallway in a beeline towards your shared bedroom. Before he’d opened the door to turn on the light, Aegon instructed that you wait outdoors, until he told you otherwise. As he disappeared before you, politely shutting the door in your quizzical face, it was only in those sparse, lonesome moments, did the realization sink in that you hadn’t stepped foot at all in the bedroom since arriving from work. Aegon was swift in taking your belongings into your room, as he urged you to remain by, distracted and tending to your little girl, before the festivities would commence. And now you understood for good reason…

“Come in, babe.”

Slowly opening the door, a hint of fear quivering inside of you, unexpectant of what was to be met, you noticed the room remained dimly lit, with lit candles strategically placed across the room, red rose petals streaked all across the carpeted floor, before realizing they led a path to the neatly made bed. Spelled legibly with more rose petals across the clean, ivory white linen were the thick lettering of the words written “WILL YOU MARRY ME?”

And kneeled before you on the floor, Aegon, precisely down on one knee, a longing look strewed across his face, with the most opulent, grand diamond ring you’d ever laid your eyes upon, held upright in the palms of his hands. It’s intricate details flashing in the dimness, the silver, stainless steel band coated in smaller, lustrous diamonds, as the main centerpiece was a pear cut, glistening with such intense clarity. Naturally, you felt the hot tears swelling in your eyes, a hand instinctively going over your neckline, as the other fell onto your stomach, where once a babe had grown cosily.

“Aeg-”

“F-Forgive me, my beloved. I know that this has been long overdue, but my feelings remain indifferent. O-Over the last few years, this thought has echoed in my mind, and since you’d blessed me with the greatest gift of all, nothing I say or do could amount to how I truly- how much I sincerely feel about you, Y/N. You, you and our little bundle of joy, you both mean the absolute world to me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you both. You have stuck by me since the beginning, not knowing what you’d be walking into, with a man like me, and yet you persevered. You not once considered walking out on me nor did you ever show your discontent with me. Forever I am grateful, I-I am undeserving of you… So please, the selfish man that I am, I ask more of you. I ask that you do me the honor of becoming my beloved wife, so that I wish to remain bound to you in this life and the next, against all odds, just like we’ve been doing since day one, baby.”

Not even a second passed by before your decision had been definitively made.

“Yes.”

Much to your amusement, as a gleeful smile tore across your face with joyous tears streaming down your scarlet cheeks, Aegon looked surprised by your acceptance. Caught in a daze, that you would decline, the answer “no” ingrained into his mind since the drive home, it took him a minute before his senses had settled in. Hastily kicking himself off the ground, he moved towards you instantly, now a similar, bright smile etched across his face, as his lilac eyes glistened with tears of relief.

“You-You said yes?!”

“Of course, Aeg! Baby, I’m so in love with you, have I been that blissfully ignorant in wanting to spend the rest of my life with you? My dear, dear husband.”

The word just oozing so effortlessly from your lips, made Aegon’s cock twitch with enthusiasm. Naturally, he swiftly placed the hypnotic ring on your delicate finger, the both of you mesmerized by its rich appearance for a few fleeting moments, before embracing one another, sharing a long, passionate kiss, as Aegon led you towards the plush bed.

“Should we not call your family, tell them the news?” You interjected, as Aegon plopped you down, remaining stood, as he undid the buttons of his fitted shirt.

“They can wait… Perhaps they shall be expecting not only a wedding, but another grandchild, niece or nephew, soon, after I’m done with you tonight.”

GENERAL TAGLIST - @evenstaris​ @chompchompluke​ @fan-goddess​ @malfoytargaryen​ @ilikeitbetterangsty​ @bibli0thecary​

AEGON TAGLIST - @who-told-you-this-was-butter​

[dreamrk99]

In another life : mark lee 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ chapter 1

Cw : crying , unprotected sex , smoking ( cigarettes) like alot of cigs, mentions of suicide , drinking , oral sex , Vincent ( readers husband ) is a awful partner and infidelity

Reader is black girl coded as I the writer am a black women + unedited I will edit the mistakes later pls give feedback if you can

I despised cigarettes despite picking up a small smoking habit after being in a long-term relationship with a man who had a severe smoking habit. The slightly rubbery smell of the cigarette smoke had grown quite comforting to me . It was a chilly November night when the midnight moon broke through the foggy sky, its strong light shining into my brown eyes .

I took another puff of the nicotine stick and then put it out on the balcony. As I hit the tobacco stick against the wooden banister, the lit bud faded into a dark grey ash. The moonlight was reflecting heavily on the diamond ring that was placed upon my hand.

I got married at a young age, meeting my husband when I was only 19 years old. He was a wealthy businessman whose parents had paid for his college education. Vincent was a charming and well-put-together man, the kind of person that people write novels about. I met him while working closing shifts at a small café in downtown New York. Despite him being 30 years old and good-looking, he promised to take care of me. The following year we were married and living in a penthouse in Upper Manhattan. It has been 4 years since then and the rose-tinted frames have long worn off Vincent worked most days never really ever coming home and when he did he was usually quite neglectful only speaking to me when he needed me to make an appearance at a business event or when he needed to use my body for release

I spend most of my days alone in our large house, listening to music echoing off the walls as I down multiple glasses of some random imported expensive aged wine that my husband brings back from his trips. Each bottle is used as an apology after a storm.

“I turned from my place on the balcony, hearing the soft thump of the door behind me. "Vin!" I exclaimed as I fully turned around to meet my husband's gaze. His hair was disheveled, with subtle peppered grey hairs on his scalp, and his suit was fairly creased. He looked tired but let out a soft laugh as our eyes met

Vincent approached me and hugged me tightly, showering my shoulder with kisses, which was unusual behavior for him. I knew that whenever he was affectionate, he was seeking something from me. "What's wrong, Vin ?" I inquired, running my fingers through his neatly trimmed hair as he buried his face into my chest. "I have to attend a dinner party with my boss tomorrow, and I have been busy with work," he replied. He then looked up and added, "I need you to come with me as my pretty doll my arm candy." I loathed these dinners, but at the same time, I missed the feeling of being desired and shown off, which I had not experienced in a long time so maybe I’d grow to enjoy them.

———-

“ we’re running late “

“ I know, “ I said adjusting the appearance of the cream low-back silk dress my husband had laid out for me to wear the morning of the dinner before heading out to work

“How do I look ?” I spoke showing off the way the dress fit on my frame the silk draping beautifully down the curves of my back gold adorning my neck and ears and a blotted berry lipstick sat on my lips

“Ravishing “ Vincent spoke before taking my hand and leading me out the doorway of the penthouse .

The car ride felt agonizingly different, like Vincent’s facade had worn off as soon as we got into the Uber. I Leaned my head against the window as I listened to Vincent talk about insanely uninteresting topics and brag about his success despite being at the bottom of his firm .

Vincent the whole dinner bragged about his beautiful wife and his lavish lifestyle I had sat at the tables dazed, to be honest, I was itching to have my lips around a cigarette but I had remembered I left my gold cigarette case on my nightstand and we were at a fancy dinner I’d hate to meet his partners at work and smell like old cherry lites

Throughout the night I was paraded around meeting each of Vincent’s coworkers he would tell them how beautiful I was and how he loved me and I would play along and force a smile but in reality I didn’t quite love him anymore and rather spend my night talking to the intern donghyuck at the free bar as we drink our worries away .

“ you look, good princess “

I snapped out of my daze “Hmm” I said my eyes fixated on his mouth moving “ I said you look good tonight “ he repeated I more I looked good it’s one of the few reasons Vincent had married me he wanted eye candy and having a wife was better for business especially one that was quite pleasing to the eye

“ I’m going to excuse myself, “ I said softly I was dying to leave the hall I wanted to be free from Vincent’s grasp

I shimmied out from the beautifully lit dining hall and made my way outside I was itching for a cig or a vodka soda I needed something to take my stress away

“Not enjoying the dinner party ? Hmm”

My head turned swiftly “ I’d rather choke on my own blood then be paraded around in front of hundreds of incompetent men “ I spoke with a chuckle finally turning fully to see the man who was speaking he was pretty with strong bone structure the type you only see on models while his hair was dark his slender fingers holding onto a wine glass

“You're too pretty to be out here alone in the cold. Your husband isn’t much of a gentleman is he ?”

I chuckled “ he’s too busy trying to sell a facade of a lifestyle “ I huffed finally finding a cigarette buried deep enough in my purse the cig hung from my bottom lip as I looked around for something to light the tobacco stick

“ well if I had a wife as pretty as you I’d never leave you on your lonesome “

I smiled “ and you are ?” I asked with a giggle as I leaned against the rust colored brick wall

“ Mark Lee, this is my dinner party .. this whole company is mine “

My eyes widened a bit I had just insulted the entirety of Mr Lee staff

“ oh im so so sorry- “ I apologized causing him to let out a breathy laugh “ no.. no i appreciate the honesty it’s refreshing “

As almost on Cue Vincent wrapped his arms around my waist “ Mr lee is see you have met my beautiful wife “

He smiled “that I have “ he said his smile seeming to light up as he let out a soft laugh

Vincent looked at me and frowned snatching the cigarette from between my lips “ I told you to stop this “ as much as I wanted to rebuttal I decided it wasn’t worth the fight especially not in front of his higher up .

“ well mark we have to go thank you for keeping my wife company “ Vincent spoke before exchanging words with mark and leaving

“ let’s have dinner then go home shall we “

__

That night Vincent had fucked me pushing my face down into the plush pillows of our large bed my underwear being harshly pulled down my legs as he inserted himself between my legs

Vincent was selfish in bed he used my body like it was disposable most nights fucking into me eagered to finish not eagered to please he was rough often abusing my body in the process

“ take that like a good girl “ he whispered in my ear as I dazed out wishing this excuse for sex would be over so I could eagerly wash the grime of my body and finally get that cigarette I craved so badly

When Vincent finally finished inside me I got up and walked to the bathroom running the water and cleansing myself of his essence. I smoked 3 cigarettes before resting that night .

—

A week later Mr lee invited us to another event this one more intimate then the last a small gathering that he only invited a few important guests once of which being Vincent

“ You think he is going to give me a higher position? “ Vincent spoke a tinge of excitement in his voice

I doubted that . Vincent was probably the most incompetent man at the firm, the only reason he got through law school being because his mother had intended nyu and was on the board .

“Of course” I lied a forcing a warm smile

“ well get dressed dinners at 7pm “

I hadn’t intended to have to dress up again so soon but I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t slightly excited to see Mark again. The man who interested me has been lingering in the depths of my mind for a while since the dinner party .

By 6:45 we had arrived at the large loft where I assumed Mark had lived. Despite being early, Mark had let us into his home a few other familiar faces from the dinner party sitting around the large loft .

the interior looked beautiful under the warm yellow lighting the lit the entirety of the home and illuminated the huge table sitting in the middle of the loft .

By 7 Mark had returned from the kitchen with a red cabaret wine pouring everyone glasses before making a small toast “ I’m so thankful that everyone could make it to my small event today I know it was very sudden but I wanted to get to know everyone on my team ” mark says with a warm smile finally sitting his glass down” so let’s eat “

And unfortunately, By 9 Vincent was drunk and embarrassing at that. most of the other guests looking at him with distaste as getting sloppy at a company dinner was not a good look .

Mark looked at him with amusement watching his employee struggle to hold a conversation and squash multiple opportunities

“ I’ll be back imma go have a smoke , “ I said softly I was dying to leave the table at that moment

I walked out into the courtyard pulling out a smoke and lighting it immediately inhaling the rubbery taste

“ your husband has put on quite the show “ mark exclames causing me face him

“ he’s 34, one of the oldest in his department and still can’t seem to do anything of significance.. I’m actually starting to think he’s a waste of space actually dumber than nails “

The way he spoke about Vincent was cynical but I couldn’t say I didn’t agree with his sentiments Vincent was incapable of doing anything but being dead weight

“ he is but he keeps a roof over my head and that’s all I can really ask for “ I say

Mark walks closer to me taking the cigarette from my lip and slipping it between his own a little of my red lipstick transferring from the cig to his upper lip “ I think I could give you the life you deserve “ he says with a smirk inhaling the smoke

“ one where you would be adored in ways that matter “ he whispered “ can I kiss you ?” He suddenly looked down at me, his slender fingers resting on my face. “ Yes” I gasped out a little more desperately then I had intended practically aching for him. It was bashful and desperate but at that moment I felt something for the first time … I felt alive .

I had returned to the dinner making up some lame excuse for why I had to go home. “ Vin I don’t feel good Mr lees going to take me home while you sober up “

And that night I cheated

as my husband was In the dinner mingling drunkenly

I was in our room on our shared bed with his boss head between my trembling thighs

He drank from me , Hungirly drinking every drop from between my legs, my fingers anchored into his

Hair “please , “ I gasped, eyes rolling back as I fantasized about a life without Vincent . Mark had lifted his head from between my thighs, his eyes glossy with admiration my head filled with nothing but mark and as I released my essence, my soul on his tongue

I didn’t think of Vincent… not at all .

_________

“I don’t think I’m a good person “

I looked down at Mark who was lying softly on the lower half of my belly his doe eyes looking up at me with a warmth that can only be felt “ I don’t think you are a bad person my love “ he uttered as he placed gentle kisses along my torso each filled with affection “ I just think even good people are capable of doing bad things “.

I felt marks lips connect to mine as he kissed me with reassurance I closed my eyes taking in every inch of his affection every inch of his love I was in deep already and I couldn’t wait to fall deeper

He smiled stopping mid-kiss “Have you eaten?” I hadn’t eaten any of the food during the dinner “ I haven’t “ I spoke softy “Hmm.. let me feed you “Before I could utter a sentence Mark had gotten up from where he was lying and slipped on his undergarments and made his way to the kitchen in a way that felt domestic

“ aren’t you worried .. worried Vincent will awaken and wander home and see you cooking for me while indecent “ I asked genuinely we had left him on the couch of Mark's loft for a few hours to sober up.

“ he drank a whole bottle of 30 proof he will be out for quite some time by then hopefully I’ll be home before he awakes “Mark was surprisingly calm about the situation cooking me a meal with no worries.

“When did you learn to cook ?” He simply smiled before commenting “ I’m not a great cook but I make some mean kimchi jjigae” he said with a soft smile his eyes crinkling up I intently watched the comforting stew on the stove the smell filling the house with warmth

“ eat “ he uttered as he pushed the bowl to me “Eat pls you look like you’ve lost weight and it’s only been a few weeks “ I looked into his eyes they we begging for me to eat so I did dipped my spoon into the dark red broth

Mark watched as I took spoonfuls of the stew till the bowl was empty he grinned “Now I feel better you should have eaten darling “

To be honest I didn’t eat much I often smoked cigarettes so much that my appetite would diminish my discomfort with my body made it easier for theses disordered habits to thrive I would often would avoid eating food .

“ you look like you have been kissed by angels “ I uttered causing him to stop “

“ when did you become such smooth talker “ he chuckled a large smile on his face he looked almost soft his ceo image shattering and his boyish charm shining through

I realized he was quiet and when he did talk he was passionate about everything he did or said it was admirable he was the opposite of Vincent

Mark was caring and selfless only becoming selfish the one time he spent with me maybe my selfish nature was rubbing off on him .

—

Mark had left a few hours ago yet the scent of his cologne still lingered in my nose as I soaked his scent off my supple skin still feeling a dull ache between my thighs

I heard the door of the bedroom creak as I saw Vincent tumble into the room he looked disheveled and smelt like a distillery as he walked into the bathroom and placed a kiss on my forehead “Good morning “ he uttered a slight slur still lingering.

“ morning vin how did you sleep ?” I asked as I scrubbed the final reminisce of Mark's cologne off my body he shrugged “So so “ as he turned on the shower stepping into it instantly to wash away his sins from the night before.

—

I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about Mark every day since the events that unfolded the night of his party it had been a 3 weeks since the event and every other day I would sneak off to call him while my husband was away working to uphold the lifestyle we were living.

I found out a lot about Mark throughout the week like that he wasn’t born into wealth came from an average working-class household and that he loved to cook even though he was very bad at it

I found myself dialing his number again as I snuck off to the balcony of the penthouse while Vincent was in the shower

“ hey angel, “ he said a hint of tiredness in his voice

“ I’m sorry did I wake you “ I spoke politely he was a busy man he’d probably been working all day and here I was calling him during his off-hours

“ you didn’t wake me at all .. I’ve been up, “ he said reassuringly “Plus I’ll always make time for you “ I smiled as I held the phone close to my ear with a smile on my face as I listened to him talking about anything I just wanted to hear his voice

Angel, are you there? He asked

“ yeah I am “

“You so quiet today hmmm “

“ I just wanna listen to you “ I could almost hear his smile through the phone “Baby imma come over “ I heard his body shift from the bed from the cell phone “Please.. Vincent won’t be home“ I practically softly begged I wanted to have him in my space

I found myself rushing to look pretty for him something I rarely did these days unless I was going out .

———-

“ my beautiful angel “

Mark's eyes were lidded as he stroked my face bringing me to a deep kiss “You feeling good ? Am I taking care of you angel “ he asked almost teasing as he filled the void between my thighs his eyes watching intently as I moved my hips up to match his agonizing slow pace

Mark was a soft and slow lover he fucked like he had all the time in the world slowly watching me come undone from just a few strokes .

The water slowly ran cold and the bubbles that were once adorning the bath faded away as he messily plumped himself in between my legs I felt my release nearing “Let go angel “ he whispered in my ear as I finally finished “ beautiful “ he uttered still holding me tight as my body aches .

“ you haven’t finished, “I say looking at Mark confused this has been the second time we had had sex and he hadn’t come inside .

“ it’s fine it was about you angel I wanted to make you feel good “

I found myself desperate to watch him come undone I wanted to milk him to completion “Stand up “ I spoke before raising to rest my knees on the hard ceramic of the bath “Angel.. baby you don’t ..-“ I cut him short “ I want to I want to taste you in all your essence “ I looked up at him as he stood there in all his glory.

I know it was quick and crazy to say but at that moment as I looked at him with nothing but love and admiration that I had never once felt with anybody else I realized I loved him. I was in love with him .

I took him in my hand pumping his member watching as he let out soft groans and gasps. It was music to my ears when I heard him whimper out “ Angel .. my beautiful angel “

I let out a guttural moan as I took him between my lips letting him hit the back of my throat before circling the head desperate to feel him cum in my mouth

Mark's hand found its way into the curls of my hair as he whispered soft praises “My beautiful girl is so good “ he’d whimper out “You were made specifically for me, my gift “ I was in love wanting nothing more than to feel him spill down my throat

“ Angel I’m about to “Before he could even finish the sentence I wrapped my lips around the tip catching every drop and feeling his nectar coat my throat before slipping him from my mouth

“ come here angel, “ he said pulling me into his arms and carrying me out the tiled bathroom to the edge of the bed, placing me softly down on the sheets.

It felt domestic the way he kissed me like I was the only woman in the world it felt domestic the way he helped me get dressed taking his time slipping my little slip over my head It felt domestic the way he talked about our relationship as if we had so much time together although I was a married woman .

Before I could comprehend anything Mark had left needing to be back before my husband ended his shift and got home

I felt an emptiness as Vincent walked in the door and tried to grab my hips “ Vincent let go “ I said sternly he giggled still trying to pull up my dress “ Vincent pls I’m not feeling good “ he stepped back in shock I wasn’t usually the type to push him away usually wanting him to get his sexual urges out so I can rest and forget about it after a drink of alcohol

“ I’m not in the mood to be fucked to sleep “

he was taken back by my brass comment his eyes fixated on me “ I think I’m going to go over to Karina’s “ I spoke sternly before grabbing a small bag and packing it to the brim with some clothing and toiletries “ I’ll be back in the morning Vincent I need some space “ Vincent had stood there dumbfounded

“ okay message me when you made it to her house “

I nodded before hopping into my car and making my way to Karina’s

Once I arrived I was instantly greeted with a warm hug “ I missed you so much “ she exclaims before grabbing a wine glasses and sitting down on the small love seat “ now I know that face .. what did you do “ she speaks softly

I looked up to her “ I’m not a good person rina “ her smile dropped “ rina i cheated on Vincent with his boss “ rinas face was unreadable not quite disappointment but not exactly approval .

“So you had sex with the ceo of the Lee firm Rina said her eye brow raised slightly I had nodded softly waiting for rina to say something yet it never came she just held my hands that had been sitting on my lap and looked me in my eyes .

“ do you have feeling For him “ she spoke with sincerity

I looked at up at her again nothing left my mouth but the look in my eyes told her everything she needed to know “hmm” she hummed before she took a long drag of her wine .

she tired lighting the mood

“ what’s the famous mr lee look like ? Is he .. before she could finish her statement

Mark himself had texted my phone .

Mark : my angel you up ?

A smile appeared onto my face as a read the very simple message and replied

You : im up :)

I looked over to karina who seemed to reading the situation.

Mark : I miss you my angel

Mark : I’ll be home soon to see you !

I smiled at the very simple yet reassuring messages I once again looked over to Karina to see a smile on her face.

“ I’veNever seen you this smiley ever “ she spoke

“ tell me about him “ she said with a approving voice

——

“ are you listening to me “ I looked up from the coffee table a old cigarette placed between my fingers

“ I’m sorry “ I spoke softly my eyes meeting with Vincent’s

“ it’s been 20 minutes what’s going on you haven’t been present for days “ Vincent exclaims slightly irritated

“ vincent don’t still wanna fuck me ?” I spoke bluntly taking him by surprise as I leaned back on the couch exposing more skin

“ ofc I do but what’s with this behavior?? “

It had been a 2 weeks since I last spoke to mark he told me he had to fly to Shanghai for business and he’d be gone for quite some time while he closed a huge deal but I missed his voice and the comfort of his body after a night of passion

Vincent wouldn’t give me the tenderness I yearned for and I knew that but I felt pent up aching for the day I’d be able to be in marks embrace again working my fingers through my thighs listening to his soft voicemails wasn’t enough anymore I needed to feel him completely I needed to be filled.

My lips interlocked with Vincent’s as he lays me down on the sheets below us “ please touch me “ I begged as I removed my thin night dress causing Vincent to sloppily remove his pants from his legs and he propped my thighs apart “ is that for me “ he says cheekily as he points to the darkened patch in my underwear “ all for you “ I gasp out as I grind looking for friction “ pls give it to me “ I whine as I grab Vincent and lean in to kiss him passionately letting my mind wonder as he flips me over pushing my face into the bed

I felt Vincent enter my body as he rocked his hips each thrust sloppy and uncoordinated “ you like that baby “ Vincent whispers under his breath as he fucks into me quickly

I found myself zooming out my mind instantly wondering to mark I wondered if he would fill me up with his essence I thought about how full I felt the last time he was between my thighs

I was snapped out my thoughts as Vincent pushed my hips down as he finally released into me fucking himself through his release “ so good for me “ he mumbled under his breathe before pulling himself out and laying next to me

Before I knew it Vincent had closed his eyes for the night light snores leaving his mouth as I sat there the sticky sheets molded to my body .. I felt disgusting reminisce of him between my thighs I instantly got up and cleaned myself up slipping in my nightdress before making my way to the balcony cigarette already partially lit .

[thvkei]

hi kira! me again lol

I got this idea while trying to sleep last night but what if the haitani brothers had a sister (maybe their twin? like rindou or ran's twin since they're different ages) who's deaf? and if tenjiku meets her, how will they react?

- love Ria ✨

IMAGINE ME, BUT TWICE !

ft. rindou, ran, izana, kakucho, shion, hanma, kokonoi x fem!reader

genre. sprinkle of angst, fluff, headcanons

notes. HI RIAAA<3 this was so cute my heart hurts :,)) + this post is sfw, but this account contains nsfw content. please do not follow if you're a minor.

growing up with a disability with your two brothers took not only great hardships, but also a huge amount love.

in your case, you were born hard-of-hearing and was completely deaf by the time you were three.

being rindou's twin sister was something you'd always known. you'd never known a life outside him, and your older brother, ran.

you and the boys had a rough childhood. your parents were bums, resulting in the three of you deciding to make a life for yourself at the measly ages of 12 and 11.

ran was only 1 when you two were born, but he quickly began to grasp that you didn't respond to his voice like rindou did. it hurt him deeply, especially more so when your mother refused to attend any type of therapy or sign language lessons.

so, as soon as he was able to, he took it upon himself to learn how to attend to yours and rindou's needs. it was hard. extremely. but he couldn't let you be treated the way he was. neglected and alone, ran fought to keep the two of you safe under the so called 'guidance' of your two useless parents.

by the time he was 10 and you and rin were 9, you developed your own methods of conversation.

as most kids make fun of things they don't understand, such as disabilities, you were teased for your voice from a young age - which caused you to shy away from speaking and only rely on writing and sign for communication.

meeting new people was hard, but, under the protection of your two big brothers, no one dared question you or your lack of speech. any one who did or had previously was left with a broken nose - at least.

due to growing up with them, it was almost a given that you would adopt their attitude. how someone could convey so much sass through their expressions alone, the brothers weren't sure. but they loved it; they loved how you expressed yourself regardless of other people's opinions, even if sometimes it was at their expense.

you'd also, thanks to years of practice and close observation, taught yourself how to lip read. it's always funny when you would appear out of nowhere during, well, what they assumed was a private conversation, and easily answer any inquires or issues they were facing despite not asking you directly.

of course, you knew they were delinquents. and good ones, at that. even though their lifestyle was dangerous, you were drawn to it, naturally. seeing how much fun they had always enticed you, especially since you'd spent so many years of your life living under the armor they forged themselves.

the boys knew you were strong. they'd taught you everything they knew over the years. so when you asked them if you could join tenjiku and fight by their side and they refused, you responded by wrapping your legs around your older brothers head and slamming him against the ground.

yeah, they changed their minds pretty quickly.

tenjiku wasn't aware of the haitanis' little sister until they were face to face with her, staring in confusion at the little girl who closely resembled their cogent executive, rindou.

izana tilted his head at you, staring in confusion. this was the powerful up-coming new member of his gang? a girl?

"she may be deaf, but trust me-" ran smirked, standing at your side with his arms folded. "she gets what she wants."

it was ironic, really, how good you were at convincing people. it had been a skill you'd never lacked in. when you wanted something, you got it. and you prided yourself in that fact.

kakucho is immediately drawn to your ambitious and fearless demeanor, the way you handle yourself - the way you handle others. he admires it. you almost make a weakness look like a strength.

izana is familiar with the basics of sign language, he'd learned it back in the orphanage he stayed in out of boredom and curiosity.

kokonoi isn't familiar with the language nor does he care. sure, you may be useful, but your weakness is so great that he assumes that you will only drag tenjiku down. however he doesn't object.

shion finds it rather amusing, a deaf girl trying to interfere with hardcore gang shit, deciding not to conceal a short laugh. that mistake immediately earned him an almost lethal punch from rindou. sending him towards the ground with a crack.

kisaki thinks it's stupid to get someone like you involved in a gang war. you will only be a liability to them, he thinks. my, how wrong he is.

hanma is, like izana, curious. it's clear to everyone here that you have rin and ran wrapped around your little finger. which consequently meant that you basically had an army of men at the of every whisper, weep or cry. you're powerful. he likes that.

as the days passed by, you continued to prove yourself to them, rounding up new members, strong ones, and leaving them at your disposal. the tenjiku members, apart from ran and rindou, of course, who already knew how you operated, were left speechless.

they found themselves learning sign language on their own will, wanting to understand more about you and how your brain worked. even shion picked up a goddamn picture book.

kokonoi finds himself reluctantly interested, refusing to admit to any one else that your abilities really did outshine your drawback.

however, while you're good at fighting, you aren't the best.

this becomes apparent when a deranged and practically nuts member of a rival gang lunges for you and you barely dodge him, scarcely avoiding a knife in your side.

kokonoi grabs you quickly, shoving you behind him without even thinking. his own actions leave him completely shocked and confused.

tenjiku in turn leaves him permanently paralyzed, discovering that over time you had also swooned them. they weren't sure how, or why, but it just happened.

even though he would never admit it directly, kakucho enjoyed your company and respected you as a fellow member.

the first time hanma made an effort was when he learned a pun in JSL, which came as a huge surprise to you.

that was also the first time he heard your voice - when you tried to hide your laughter from him by covering your mouth with your hand.

he was immediately smitten.

over time, tenjiku progressively become more protective. it's like an instinct. one bad word of you, and their opposition is dead. that's just how it works.

ran and rindou continue to be your number one boys, the brothers you can rely on above all else.

izana trusts you with plans and keeping everyone in order and respects you as his underling. but on a personal level, he thinks even more of you.

even kisaki learns some of the basic cues, giving you at least a little respect even though you often make it known that you don't enjoy his company.

overall, being the haitani's underestimated little sis had its perks. having a disability didn't change how much they loved you in the slightest. it just made you stronger.

please do not repost or steal my work ─ i don't allow translations or resposts on any other platforms.

[rinaxtaros]

[07] | RED.

Summary: You settle into your new role within the Phantomhive Manor.

— deal with the devil (saying/phrase) The term "a pact with the devil" is also used metaphorically to condemn a person or persons perceived as having collaborated with an evil person or regime.

chapter 07

"Demons can make deals with other demons?" Ciel asks as he looks up from his pile of paperwork. Sebastian nods stiffly, eyeing his curious master.

"How does that work? Aren't you under contract to me?" He asks, setting his palms on the desk as he looks up at the two demons before him.

"Yes, I am, but a demon contract is different to a human contract.” Sebastian explains languidly.

You interrupt, "If I may speak, although it is a little confusing it is beneficial for demons as we basically live for the 'tit-for-tat' lifestyle.”

Ciel hums, swirling his cup of cold tea. He had barely touched the thing, swearing that Sebastian had made the tea wrong. You recalled laughing at the vein popping in Sebastian’s neck.

Sebastians hums "It's still a little taboo for.. us but us demons will do anything for our own benefits.”

Ciel understands that demons are selfish and possessive creatures but the thought of demons doing deeds for others is foreign to him. He assumed that they wanted nothing to do with each other if every demon had Sebastian’s attitude.

"We'll spare you the long and frankly boring details of a demon contract, but [Y/n] is now to listen to my commands as I have accepted a deal she had inquired about," Sebastian explains quickly. He could go on forever about contracts. Ciel nods and sees it as good enough.

Thankfully.

"I'm guessing you'll be staying here then" Ciel sends you a pointed look. You nod, seeing as Sebastian had practically explained you were now apart of the Manor team. It doesn’t seem to bother Ciel as he now has an extra person to do his dirty work. It’s not like you’re getting paid.

"You may go off and do your own duties.” Ciel sends you away with a flick of his hand. You watch as Sebastian obediently bows. The sight makes a laugh rumble in your throat, but you hold it back for the sake of not starting another argument.

As much as Sebastian is like a dog to Ciel, you’ve now become one for Sebastian as per the details of your contract. You can’t help but frown as you aimlessly follow the dark-haired demon who waves you along.

The door closes with a gentle click, accompanied by a quiet groan of the ages hinges. Sebastian already stands with a candle stick in hand, lighting the dim hallway. It’s amusing, as he doesn’t need the extra light to see within the dark halls. It seems Sebastian loves to keep up the façade, even when no one is watching.

"[Y/n], be a dear and remind me of who this demon is?" Sebastian purrs, leaning the flame towards your face. The radiated warmth across your face is quite conforming, but the shadow from the flame contorts his face into quite a lustfully sinister sight.

"I think he goes by Claude now.. although I'm not sure" You surmise, plucking your mind for any past interactions you’ve had with the prowling entity. From your knowledge, he’s used the same human name with his past few masters. He’s been hellbent on catching you as his mate ever since one mistaken moment together.

It’s a curse to be the sin of Lust sometimes.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"When my end of the deal is met…” You trail, eyes flickering towards the ground again. Sebastian simpers, sauntering silently ahead “We’ll see, my Dear.”

You dip, seeing as either situation would’ve had you stuck between a rock and a hard place. However, having Sebastian by your side would aid in your avail against Claude’s courting.

A demon courting is messy and bloody at times. Once a male has his eyes set, the woman can either give in or die trying to escape. On the off chance, the woman emerges victorious if the man is weaker. However, it is rare. Claude is strong and you’re certain he’s only gained more strength by completing odd jobs for whatever demented soul he’s serving.

Sebastian though, he has an unwavering strength that has gave you a boost in confidence. As long as you hold up your end of the deal, he has agreed to fight Claude off. Even if that means to kill him.

You hope it works anyway. The mark above your tainted heart hopes so.

The next day your new found trio had travelled into London to speak to a man named Abberline about the missing children. The interaction with Abberline left a sour taste in your mouth. Nothing particularly stood out about the man — he was an average investigator, though you knew he would most likely stand in the way of Ciel’s own investigation.

It’s making time with the two longer. Ugh.

As your group approaches the wooden carriage, Sebastian and Ciel started talking about the cases and the information they had somehow pulled from the nervous detective. You don’t pay much attention, barely looking at Sebastian even as he held the door open for you. He slides in a few moments later, slotting into the small seat next to you.

"I suppose we'll be paying him a call?"The rather distasteful emphasis on him peaks your interest. You scan Sebastian with a curious tinge swirling within your orbs.

"I don't like it any more than you do, but when needs must and all." Ciel answers loathfully. He taps the roof of the carriage with his cane to alert the driver to start moving.

It’s a rather short journey, though you spend most of your time watching the world go by. It would certainly be faster if you could travel at your own speed, but actually taking in your surroundings is nice. The bump of the wheels against the cobble stone street isn’t too pleasant, though.

"This is him?" You query as the carriage comes to a halt in front of a familiar building.

“Why, do you know him?” Sebastian questions, studying your face for any type of reaction as he exists the vehicle. He extends a hand, which you take so graciously. Though, you titter, “You could say that.”

Sebastian clicks his tongue to display his annoyance as you come to a stand. He drops his hand, signalling to the driver to wait. Sebastian steps back, allowing you step forward.

You try not to laugh as you allow your new (appropriate) dress to swipe along his legs flirtatiously.

Ciel, seemingly ignoring your interaction, walks to the cracked door. His hand leaves a feather-like touch against the skid, yet it screeches open. The ear-grating sound was sure to alert the shop owner of his presence "Undertaker? Are you about?"

There's no answer at first but Ciel takes the initiative to walk cautiously into the dark shop. Candles were littered across the shop’s floor and walls to provide an eerie - but on theme atmosphere.

Both of you follow behind, ignoring how your footsteps bounce off of the cobbled floors and concrete walls and back into their ears. The clicking of your heels surpasses the sound of the dull steps produced by Sebastian and Ciel’s flat shoes.

The shop door clicks closed behind the three, allowing the shop to now bask in the light from the candles. Only a few seconds pass before a creepy voice echoes through the shop, causing a shiver to ripple up the young Lord’s spine.

"Hello my Lord, it's so lovely to see you~" The Undertaker’s voice purrs out, kicking a disregarded skull. It rolls crudely towards the young masters legs, similar to a bowling ball to two pins. Ciel hisses, barely missing the barrelling object.

"What will it be then? Will I have the pleasure to fit you for one of my coffins?" The Undertaker goads blatantly. Though, his voice had travelled to behind the young master, causing Ciel to puff unexpectedly as the entrance to the shop is suddenly closed. The Undertaker lears as his hand presses firmly against the wood.

"Look you-" Ciel starts, only to be cut off by the Undertaker "Have a seat, I have a batch of biscuits still fresh from the oven!”

Though the behaviour would have you feeling unnerved a few years ago, the Undertaker has yet to shock you within this interaction. You’re quite astonished with Ciel’s ability to hide the fear that is absolutely spilling from his being.

You suppose you should end this odd stand-off.

"Stop teasing the poor boy.” You defend, placing a hand on Ciel’s shoulder. He tenses beneath the touch but quickly melts as he realises you’re defending him. Perhaps he’s too relieved to notice how casually you’re speaking to the creepy shop-keeper.

"You're acquainted with the brat, my Dear?" A frown settles on the Undertakers face. Sebastian shuffles from beside you, perhaps to gauge the interaction better. He’s been very openly scanning the surroundings of the shop.

“More than acquainted, actually.” Ciel’s head whips to meet your gaze. You glance down at the poor boy who looks as if he’s seen a ghost.

Whilst the Undertaker groans and says some off-handed comment about a literal child, Ciel is in complete guffaw “You know this creep?!”

It’s hard to hold back your laugh, so you chuckle and throw in a quick apology to the Undertaker. He seems more distracted by the fact you’re so close with the young boy who has caused him quite the stir over his years as the Queen’s Guard Dog.

“Yes. That is for another day, Ciel.”

Ciel nods - albeit still shocked - and tells the Undertaker the reason for their being (after trying to get through to the man for another 10 minutes.)

"Missing children, you say?" The Undertaker rubs his chin quizzically. You perch yourself against a staggered coffin, awaiting the long-winded story he’s bound to tell. The whole interaction has been quite boring, despite the comical expression Ciel had worn a few minutes ago.

"The authorities still consider them missing persons,” Sebastian informs "and no corpses turned up, do you know of any?"

"Well as tragic as it may be" The Undertaker lifts a bone shaped cookie and examines it under the candle light. Ever the dramatic.

“I don’t recall anything of the sorts.”

“I have their information here, look through these and tell me if you've taken care of any of these children.” Ciel ignores the Undertakers blatant lies. Sebastian thrusts the papers towards the mortician, ignoring how he complains that Sebastian is being too forceful.

"Hmm, have I seen this face before… I don't know...” He trails, “My memory would be right but sharper if I had myself a good laugh…”He acts coy.

Another pregnant ouse fills the air, “I think a good laugh would jog my memory!”

The two groan in agony as the conversation meets a stalemate. You’re certain this isn’t the first time he’s stuck them for a laugh in order to get the tiniest but of information on a case they could get elsewhere. You don’t want to stay much longer, though.

“Aren’t you being too stingray, Undertaker?” You hum, pushing yourself from the coffin, “I’m sure you don’t want to be here with the young master for much longer.”

“Young master…” He mocks, presumably rolling his eyes “Don’t tell me he has you calling him that pretentious title.”

You ignore his mocking and turn to Ciel “Let me do this. His humour is crude.” You warn.

Ciel quietly debates within his head.

"All you've got to do is give it to me! Just give me the gift of true laughter!" Like a bulb, the Undertakers behaviours switches as he slides himself across the coffin just a metre before Ciel’s body. He twists like a cat, extending his hands in front of him as if they were claws as he twists upside down "One laugh and all of my information is at your disposal!" He giggles.

Ciel looks to Sebastian, "See to it, will you?" He asks

The Undertaker takes the chance to jab at the boy "Having him do your dirty work then?" He asks, twisting upright.

“That's the trouble with you upper class blokes…Can't do anything without your butlers, ay?" Ciel fumes, clenching his fists. The better half of you wants to step in, but deep down you want to see if Ciel will crack.

“It’s all the same to me, I just want a laugh" The Undertaker shrugs.

Ciel thwacks his staff against the cobble floor, "I'll take care of this.”

"His humour is quite crude, my Lord" You warn once more. Ciel’s frame shakes with unbrittled anger, visibly wound up from the Undertakers relentless teasing. You’re sure it’s a build up of past interactions, but the sight is even unruly for you.

“I can do it for you—“

"Both of you, go outside!" Sebastian glances at you, then motions to the door. You look between the Undertaker and Ciel who glare at each other unwaveringly. You twist on your heel, accepting the pre-teens stubbornness. It’s one thing he must get from Sebastian.

As you step outside and adjust to the blinding light, Sebastian lets you know of the time. You stretch your arms, groaning as a loud pop follows.

“He’ll take forever.”

"Young Master, are you sure that a circus is a place for a noble like you?"You’re curious. Ciel had decided that both he and Sebastian would join the circus to learn of the disappearance of several children. The Undertaker had said that the missing children were coinciding with the location of the travelling circus and that a child had been snatched not long ago.

Ciel peers at you over the rim of his cup of tea. The light shines from his silver rings, causing you to wince for a slight second. He sets his cup down, smacking his lips to rid of any excess droplets.

"The Queen has asked me to look into the missing children cases and it seems everywhere this circus goes, children go missing along with it:” He explains shortly. You can’t do much but nod. It’s all you’ve done for the past few weeks, so you quietly smooth down the pinafore straps of your skirt to fill the silence of the room. Sebastian stands idle nearby.

It’s quite awkward, even for yourself. You find yourself having to occupy your hands more often. Perhaps it’s because you have another demon watching your every move — one that’s strong enough to easily take you down. You find yourself thinking about it at night and how you hadn’t felt such emotions while serving Anne before the last few weeks of her short life.

You despise the feelings. It’s too human. Too familiar.

"Young Master! Your carriage has arrived!" Mey-Rin bursts through the oak doors, hands slamming both of them open clumsily. Ciel, who had only swallowed another mouth full of tea, splutters.

“T-Thank you, Mey-Rin.”

Ciel orders you to file into the carriage alongside them. Though curious, you follow through seeing as Sebastian told you to listen to Ciel. You’re were wandering how you’re meant to follow Sebastian’s orders when he’s not around to give you any, so the ride to the circus should hopefully fill you in.

"I'm sending Sebastian to look through the circus, I'm sure you know that by now:” Ciel recaps. He had send Sebastian solo to scope out the circus before their arrival and subsequently left you in charge to pander to Ciel’s needs. He’s quite demanding and you understood why Sebastian seems to have a stick up his ass permanently when he’s not flirting.

"He gathered that there may be too many people around to carry out our investigation as a duo, so I need you to come as a decoy.” Ciel continues, “You’ll distract and keep people away from where we need to be. Do whatever you want as long as you don’t attract too much attention.”

This is certainly not what you expected, but one glance at disinterested Sebastian tells you that the two had thoroughly discussed the plan beforehand.

“Refrain from using formalities with me as we are pretending to be common folk.” Sounds about right.

You stay silent, processing the whole ordeal. You find it quite odd that you’re only being told this now, as if Sebastian and Ciel weren’t really decided in your addition. But then again, what is hiding within the circus to make them think they’ll need a permanent decoy?

[thevilqueen]

Undying Loyalty ~ Part 3

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit × Reader

Summary: Students are disappearing on the campus of Night Raven College and it seems your lovely friend, Vil Schoenheit, is guilty. Will your love and loyalty for him change?

A/N: Be warned that [Name] has an inexistant moral compass. Let me know what you think!

Part 1 Part 2

Vil had been turned into what was known in folklore as a vampire, he had himself deduced and shared his knowledge with [Name]. Luckily for them, there were countless books in the school library that talked about these dangerous creatures. As [Name] accompanied their best friend as he fed himself, they were able to observe many of his new abilities. Vil only fed on human blood and he had grown disgusted with normal food. Without blood, he couldn’t function and it led him to intense bloodthirst, which was a highly dangerous state as described by the many books [Name] had gathered.

Vil had been feeding well since his awakening and his victims were stabilizing. His bite alone couldn’t kill but it was used to feed and influence his victims. As a newly turned vampire, however, Vil’s level of aggression was high as [Name] had witnessed. It was unclear whether he was able to turn other people into vampires so far for he had killed all his victims before draining them of their blood entirely and none of them had resurfaced. It appeared that he wasn’t looking into turning anyone like him and he had no memories of the person that had bitten him. However, if the books were right, it was the King of Vampires’ doing. [Name] wondered if they should be worrying about that mysterious individual just yet but they figured their hands were already full with Vil.

With time it seemed that Vil was able to shapeshift. He couldn’t turn into animals just yet but he could travel as dust or vapor and pass through any cracks and crevices. However, he was only able to enter someone’s property if he was invited, which seemingly didn’t apply to [Name] as they had granted him a permanent invitation, unbeknownst to them for a while. Vil had also developed a weakness for sunlight, while it wasn’t fatal, it did take a toll on him and made it harder for him to be active by day. Unfortunately, shifting his routine completely while maintaining his studies was impossible therefore he only managed to rest a few hours per day. This lifestyle was likely the reason why he needed so much blood to sustain himself.

However, he had not bitten [Name] nor had even brought it up and they couldn’t help thinking as to why. Seemingly biting them would have granted him some sort of influence over their actions as well as some psychic powers. Moreover, Vil’s bite could change [Name] if they were to die by it. Many questions were yet to be answered by Vil and the truth was that [Name]’s mind was also clouded by the meaning of their kiss. They weren’t sure about how to address it in between walks to the graveyard in the late hours of the night. [Name] was relieved that Vil had stopped killing his victims for now only drinking blood from unaware prey. It was not ideal but it was better than what they had witnessed that night in the forest.

“You aren’t nocturnal like me, doll,” Vil reminded them as they walked under the moonlight together. “You should be resting.”

“I would rather not.”

“Why is that? Are you worried for me?” he asked, curious.

“I just want to make sure you aren’t killing anyone.”

Vil chuckled.

“As if you would be able to stop me if I tried.”

“I guess you are right but you didn’t kill me. So surely you aren’t just a monster, no?”

“What if I was?” he asked, stopping in his tracks, his violet eyes looking into theirs.

“You aren’t.”

“For now.”

“Is that true?” [Name] inquired, worry in their eyes.

The truth was Vil didn’t know. He brushed [Name]’s face gently with his fingers.

“I have changed so much. Would it be that shocking? Do you even recognize me?”

“Of course I recognize you,” [Name] immediately replied. “Why else would I be here?”

“So I’m still Vil to you? I’m Vil Schoenheit?”

They nodded enthusiastically and he chuckled.

“Don’t you feel like Vil Schoenheit?”

Vil stayed quiet for a moment. It was a difficult question. It was wrong to think that his mind had adapted to his new condition the way his body did. At first, he felt barely human. He couldn’t seem to care about anything he used to care about, all that mattered was stopping that hunger that was devouring him, bloodthirst. This was when he felt like an animal, a beast. Once that feeling disappeared however he felt like the person he was had remained and that was the hardest part of his condition. He felt corrupted and hideous and he knew he truly was now. All his life spent as a rising actor, fearing becoming the roles he was constantly assigned, felt meaningless now that he was a true evil.

Yet the scariest part of this all was that he almost felt like he was free now like something had chained his heart and self all this time. Almost like he had repressed the ugliness in him so much that letting it overflow was therapeutic. Everything he knew would inevitably perish, his career, his friends, his family and probably even him. Just like he feared, Vil would die as the villain but his heart couldn’t seem to give up, even drowned in darkness. He wanted to live, selfishly and wrongly. Maybe this was just an act of rebellion from the heart he pressured for so long to be perfect. Except he was not perfect and never had been.

“Hardly sometimes.”

“Well you are different but you are still Vil to me,” [Name] explained. “You are like a new version of yourself. I can feel that your core is the same but everything around it has shifted.”

Vil smiled at [Name]’s words before closing the distance between them, giving them a tender kiss on the lips.

“At first,” they explained, pulling away slightly, “I was unsure. I was wondering if I was just being seduced by the shape of you but it’s still you .”

“What am I to you?” he asked, his nose brushing against theirs.

“The one that holds my heart.”

“Why did it take this for you to say it?” Vil replied, pulling back but not breaking their embrace.

“I was scared, Vil. Why did it take this for you to ask me?”

“I was unsure,” he said, truthfully.

“And are you sure now?”

Vil laughed. If he wasn’t now then he would never be. Who else would love a monster so carelessly?

“I am so sure that it’s terrifying,” he replied. “You terrify me, doll.”

“Why?” they asked with a frown.

“Trust and loyalty like this is deadly. So to give it to a killer is, to say the least, interesting but you don’t think that hard do you?” he teased.

“Maybe I don’t but it’s too late now and I don’t regret it.”

“[Name] don’t you offer your heart like this to anyone ever again,” Vil warned them.

“I won’t because it’s yours.”

“I don’t need a heart, doll. I’m not alive anymore.”

[Name] stayed quiet for a moment. Vil was right. He was undead now. He was by nature not quite himself anymore.

“So you won’t hold my heart?” they asked in a small voice.

“I won’t.”

Vil could see the tears filling up [Name]’s eyes as soon as the words left his mouth.

“But I will guard it while you hold it. Do you understand?”

“I’m not sure,” [Name] admitted.

“It doesn’t matter. Just allow me to look after you while I can,” Vil concluded, kissing [Name]’s forehead tenderly.

They nodded before searching for his mouth again. It tasted like blood yet [Name] couldn’t seem to care as Vil’s tongue made its way past their lips. They kissed slowly but passionately, taking their sweet time together. Vil’s hands travelled down [Name]’s body eagerly and his mouth eventually moved down to their neck. He sucked on the skin carefully but didn’t bite them.

“Why don’t you bite me, Vil?” [Name] asked, at last, feeling him move back to kissing their jaw.

“Do you want me to bite you?”

“I do.”

“Do you know what this would do to you?” he asked.

“I do.”

Vil didn’t know how he was still surprised by [Name]’s carelessness. They visibly had fully sworn themself to him and at this point, he wasn’t quite sure what was the best way to protect them. [Name] was reckless, that much was obvious, he couldn’t know the extent to which they would go if they felt like Vil was threatened. Maybe biting them was safer. Vil wanted to bite them. Yet he didn’t want to choose selfishly. He needed to think about it for now.

“We will see, doll.”

[nikethestatue]

Princess Tea Party

Summary: Single father Azriel Night and his son are invited to a Princess Tea Party where they meet single mother Elain Archeron and her daughter. Will sparks ignite between the two singletons or will their histories catch up with them and stop them in their tracks?

Elain Archeron Week 2023 'Dreamer' @elainarcheronweek

For Dragzilla and Orio, who were my light in the darkness

Chapter One

Azriel Night

“Dada…dad…dada…wake up! Wake up, dada! We have to go! Wake up!”

Azriel Night was already kind of awake, though he lay in bed with his eyes closed and pretended to be deep asleep. His son’s solid, but soft body bumped along his, and he listened to the laboured grunting that his son emitted, as he tried to climb onto the bed. Azriel did not assist him, because his baby boy wouldn’t want him to, but he opened his eye just a little, to watch the struggle. And the struggle was real. The short little legs couldn’t reach the edge of the bed, so the short little arms were grabbing at everything in sight, as his baby was attempting to pull himself up. Azriel moved his arm just a little, and his son grabbed on immediately, not recognising that dad threw him a lifeline. 

“You need help, big guy?” Azriel asked at last, to which he immediately received an unequivocal,

“No dad! I do it.”

“Okay…Your tongue is hanging out,” Azriel noted, trying to stifle his laughter.

The baby’s brow furrowed and he asked, “what?”

“Nothing, nothing. Come on, a little more,” he encouraged and somehow, as it always happened, the kid was able to finally climb on the bed. He was panting dramatically with exertion, though that didn’t stop him from immediately demanding, “dada, let’s go!”

“Where are we going to go, Dari?” Azriel asked, stroking the small round head, running his fingers through the silken curls. “It’s seven in the morning.”

“To party!” Darius nodded confidently. “We go today.”

“We will,” Azriel assured him, “but it’s a little early. The party is at 3 o’clock.”

Darius frowned and inquired, “when this be?”

“In a few hours. Meanwhile, do you want to have breakfast?”

“Yeah, I wanna eat,” the baby nodded. “All stuffs.”

Azriel smiled—all stuffs indeed. His barely 3-year-old son looked like he was pushing six. He was big, robust and yet, still full of baby rolls. His fatty arms looked like those of a Michelin Man, and the soft, pinkish cheeks puffed out in a way that absolutely required that they be pinched. 

“Dada what we do at party?” Darius asked, his gaze curious. As it stood right now, this would be his first party. 

“Have some treats,” Azriel explained. “Fun. Maybe music.”

“Baboons?”

“Don’t know about balloons, but maybe.”

Azriel would’ve wanted for his boy to have had other party experiences, but up until about 4 months ago, life’s been hectic.

He clicked a button on his phone and the shades on his floor-to-ceiling windows slowly rose, revealing a beautiful view of Denver’s Washington Park. Another cloudless day. That was one thing that Azriel loved about his new residence—300 days of sunshine. Blue skies. Cloudless mornings such as this just about every morning. 

He’d plunked down about half a million on this penthouse, snatching it right after the pandemic for a steal. Now the place appraised for 1.3 million. He couldn’t complain. It’s the least he could expect, considering that he had to move to Denver. From NYC. Denver. Provincial and unexciting Denver, full of bearded men, flannel, and entirely too many Subarus. But his only living and close relative made Denver his home, so he packed Darius and just…moved. Without looking back. Ripped off the band aid and started a new life. And he couldn’t complain, if he was being honest. Denver’s proven to be kind of nice. It was chill and green, and though unlike his brother Cassian, he wasn’t insanely enamoured with the mountains and the bicycling and skiing and snowboarding, he came to enjoy the slower lifestyle. 

They walked around Wash Park every evening, and Darius fed the ducks and chased birds like a savage. Ladies in running gear with calves of steel and 3% body fat gave Azriel and Darius curious and often very needy glances. But Azriel knew that he only looked good ‘on paper’. He might’ve been pretty good looking, tall and athletic, with sleeves of tattoos and the cutest, chonkiest kid in the world, but he was also a single father to just-barely a 3-year-old. No one really wanted a guy with a kid. Because Darius was always going to be his priority, and no woman could ever take precedence in his life over his son. And women needed and wanted attention. Which was fine. He was doing well without them. He was busy creating fun routines and experiences for his son. Their fancy building had three pools, a game room, a bocce court, a ton of grilling spaces, chefs who came to give cooking lessons, and a playground for the kids located on the 30th floor. Darius fucking ate it all up—he loved the pool, he loved all the games, he liked to watch the chefs, because they usually called him to the counter and asked him to ‘help’, which he did eagerly. The kid wasn’t exactly shy. And he adored attention and all the oohing and aahing that came from the audience. 

There was a coffee shop where the two of them went on weekends, and a couple of times a month, they had brunch with Cassian. They had their little Italian place where the pasta was handmade and the atmosphere was nice, and they dined there a few times a week. 

Azriel knew that Cass was happy with having him and Darius around now. It felt like they were a family again, and that was nice. And even though Azriel was unsure at first whether he’d made the right decision about moving here, he was beginning to realise that perhaps, it was actually for the best. 

A week ago Darius started preschool. He only went 3 times a week for 3 hours a day, but even that had Azriel spiralling. He’d never been apart from his boy, so he spent half an hour in the car, after he dropped his baby off, and actually fucking cried. He cried. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but Darius was Azriel’s entire life. His love. So watching his boy walk away just about broke him in half. Thankfully, a little girl skipped towards his son and started saying something animatedly, before taking him by the hand and tugging him along. And Azriel was grateful to the little girl, somehow trusting her to take care of his boy. So, Darius went off with a new friend, and Azriel went back to the car and cried. The second day was a tad easier, because his boy gave him the tightest, warmest hug before he ran inside and whispered ‘love too, dada’. Azriel only cried for 15 minutes afterwards. 

…They brushed their teeth and washed their faces together, side by side, and then Azriel brushed Darius’s thick, black curls until they shone. 

“We have to shave, dada,” Darius reminded him seriously, standing on his stool, somehow already wet up to his shoulders. 

“Yeah, we gotta look good for the party,” Azriel agreed, as he covered his face with shaving cream and then dabbed some on Darius’s chubby cheeks. His son fancied himself to be very old and mature, so he had a wooden ice cream stick, which Azriel told him was his ‘blade’, so he could ‘shave’ with it, which resulted in Darius smearing the shaving cream all over his face with the stick. 

“I shave good?” 

Azriel dragged his own razor over his cheek, wondering why he was even bothering, since it was the weekend, but whatever.

“You are an ace shaver, bud,” he said. “You’ve got the smoothest cheeks!”

“Uncle Cass have a beard,” Darius announced. Uncle Cass also had long hair and rocked the mountain man look so well, and he got laid multiple times a week. Azriel didn’t have a beard, nor as much game as his brother. His lack of any kind of love life was an endless source of pestering on behalf of Cassian, who constantly volunteered to babysit, so Azriel could get out and hit the clubs. Or bars. Or the gym. Or anything. The idea of it all made Azriel slightly nauseous. He was completely unmotivated to pull anything or anyone, and though he feared that his dick might actually wither and fall off from lack of use, it was not enough motivation to go and get laid by some random girl. He wasn’t boring. He just didn’t want to do it. He was a solitary man by nature, and while his 20s were pretty wild by all accounts, he had no desire to relive any of it.

“Maybe you’ll have a beard one day too.”

Darius nodded and added, ‘like Cass! I want it.’

Azriel dried his soaking wet baby, and then they walked down the corridor to the kitchen.

“What do you want to eat, bud?”

Darius climbed onto his highchair and proposed ‘cookies’, definitely testing the waters.

Azriel chuckled and told him ‘nice try’.

Darius frowned, and then propped his cheek on his hand and demanded, “what then, dada?”

“How about eggs? Or oatmeal?”

“Okay, I eated eggs,” he decided, while Azriel poured him some juice. Settled in, Darius—who, unlike his father, was rather talkative—asked, “so what we do at party, dada? It’s fun? Is Cass gonna come?”

Since Cassian was literally the only other person that Darius knew with any degree of familiarity, Cassian featured quite often in all his questions.

“We’ll see. I am not sure,” Azriel admitted honestly, as he cracked the eggs into a bowl, at which point, Darius demanded, “I do it, dada! Give it.”

Azriel handed him a whisk and the bowl, saying, “Do it carefully, without splattering. And no, Cass isn’t coming.”

“Why no?”

“Because he wasn’t invited. Only you were invited,”

“Oh yeah,” Darius smiled happily. “Only me.”

“And I don’t think that Cass would do good at a Princess Tea Party,” Azriel said thoughtfully.

A Princess Tea Party is in fact where they were invited.

Yesterday, when Azriel came to pick Darius from preschool, Darius ran to him all excited, his shirt askew, his hair messy, waving a piece of paper in his hand. He ran into Azriel’s arms, and gave him a long tight hug, almost suffocating him. Which was totally fine by Azriel.

“I miss you, dada!”

“I missed you too, my boy. Was the school good?”

“Yeah, I love. Here dada, you read it,” Darius handed the paper to him.

Azriel took a surprisingly nice quality paper and unfolded it. It was an invitation.

You Are Cordially Invited

To

Isabella Archeron’s Princess Tea Party

Dress in your prettiest attire and prepare to enjoy delicious pastries and yummy tea

“Who gave this to you?” Azriel asked, confused by the invitation. Why was Darius invited to a Princess Tea Party?

“Girl!”

“What girl?”

“She is friend,” Darius said confidently. “Isa. She nice. I love it.”

“You like her?” Azriel straightened his son’s shirt, and then took his hand.

“Yeah, she is so good. What this paper, dada?”

“She invited you to a party tomorrow.”

“Ohhhh!” Darius looked at him with a giant happy grin and yelled “we go, dada?!?! We go to party?! I want it so!”

“You’ve never been to a party,” Azriel reminded him reasonably. Darius skipped by his side nodding in agreement, while saying, “but I wanna go.”

“To a Princess Tea party?” Azriel confirmed.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Alright. I suppose we can go. It will be mostly girls, you know,” he warned him.

Darius shrugged and said, “okay. I like girls.”

Darius was too young to have friends, and up until they moved to Denver, there wasn’t even much family to speak of. Now, at last, he had an uncle that he adored, and he was going to school where he was meeting other children and forming some kind of relationships with them. But he also had no prejudices and Azriel would’ve liked to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Elain Archeron

The doorbell rang once, almost immediately followed by a firm knock.

Elain Archeron hurried to the door, with her daughter Isabella skipping excitedly behind her. The rest of the girls were already in the den, giggling and putting on plastic tiaras and costume jewellery. 

“Ma, who is it? It’s Dari?” Isa asked, rocking on her feet, her already huge eyes lighting up with happiness.

“I don’t know, let’s see,” Elain smiled and opened the door.

She gasped and immediately stepped back. A veritable giant stood on her porch—a man so tall, he blocked out the sun. He was dressed in all black—black jeans, expensive by the look of them, stylish black boots, a thin black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and showcasing powerful forearms covered in tattoos and extensive scars. Besides this whole ‘sexy/dangerous/brooding/hot’ package that he was presenting from the very get-go, the man was…breathtakingly beautiful. 

Elain stared dumbly at him. 

Who was this? And why was he here? And she had six girls in the house. And ohmagod what was she even wearing? And why was she worrying about that? And how was her hair? And was there a smear of icing or powdered sugar on her face? Who was he? Why was he so handsome? He looked like a cross between an Armani model and someone from the set of Sons of Anarchy. Tattoos? She didn’t even like tattoos! Why was she looking at a tattooed man?! Why did his tattoos extend to his neck and why did she want to see them when he was without his black t-shirt? And how can a t-shirt stretch like this over a man’s shoulders anyway? And for the love of god, why was there a Maybach parked in her driveway?!!?

Yes, that was a thing too now. A Maybach in front of her modest craftsman. It looked about as inconspicuous as a peacock in a chicken coop. 

“Azriel,” the man said, his voice sexual and quiet.

“Yes.”

Yep, that’s what she went with. Yes. And then, she blurted out, 

“I am not Azriel.”

“I would’ve guessed,” he smiled an amused smile that was breathtaking in its beauty. 

Elain was literally hyperventilating. 

The man’s gorgeous amber eyes regarded her slowly and thoroughly. Very, very thoroughly. He studied every inch of her, taking everything in, calculating and chronicling something in his mind as he looked her over. 

What was she wearing?!?! She absolutely could not recall and couldn’t look down to check, because that would just be weird.

“I am Azriel,” he clarified.

“Okay.”

“Are you,” he paused for a second, “Isabella’s mother?”

Elain finally managed to snap out of her stupor and nodded, “I am. Can I help you?”

“We are here for the Princess Tea Party,” he explained, and it sounded as absurd as it looked. Elain attempted to translate what he was saying inside her head.

“Dari!” he called out. “Come here…Oh my god, why did you rip that poor flower?”

The next moment, a most comical looking kid bounded over. He was…big. He was probably half a head taller than Isa, though he looked like a big baby. He was portly in a baby sort of way and had puffy, soft cheeks and a gently rounded body. He was also…beautiful. Lovely colouring, huge dark eyes with thick, long lashes, and perfectly arranged features. Basically, he looked like Azriel. Unlike Azriel, he also looked like an escapee from the set of Peaky Blinders. He was sporting a white shirt, wore a bow tie (no less!), Burberry pants with suspenders, and a chequered flat cap. He was a tiny little English stud muffin from the 1920s. In one hand, he held a flower, which he clearly ripped out of Elain’s flower bed. In another, he held a paper bag from Whole Foods.

The moment was interrupted by Isabella, who yelled ‘Dari! You came to my party!’

It finally dawned on Elain and she gasped, “oh my god. I am so sorry. You are Dari?” she squatted in front of the boy and stroked his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I Daris,” he announced and then handed Isabella the flower, while she rushed to give him a hug. 

“Dari thank you!” she chirped, taking the flower, which still had the roots attached and was sprinkling soil on the floor. 

“This for you, lady,” he then handed the Whole Foods bag to Elain and Isa dragged him by the hand to the den.

Which left Elain in an enviable and highly nerve-racking position of facing the ridiculously handsome Azriel.

“His name is Darius, by the way,” Azriel chuckled. “We are still working on it…him remembering what his name is.”

Elain snorted a laugh, and then choked back a mortified huff. Azriel smiled. He still hadn’t crossed the threshold and she scrambled to invite him in.

“Please. Forgive my manners.”

“We weren’t sure what the proper attire was for a Princess Tea Party, so,” Azriel explained, as he finally stepped inside the house.

“He is the most stylish baby I’ve ever seen,” Elain laughed. “I mean, he is wearing suspenders and a bow tie!”

“Please, if you hold your sanity dear, don’t call him a baby!” Azriel warned with mock horror. “He tells me multiple times a day that he is ‘very big’,” he made air quotes with his fingers. 

“May I then say that he is seriously adorable and maybe the handsomest very big boy I’ve ever seen. Suppose he takes after his father,” at that, she laughed nervously, silently berating herself for her stupid big mouth. It’s been five minutes and she is already calling this man ‘handsome’. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting like a complete freak in his company?

Azriel politely ignored her words and dutifully followed her inside the house, taking in her nicely updated craftsman. The kitchen was open to the living room, and from there, they could see the den, where six girls and one boy were currently squealing, laughing and giggling. 

She sat the bag that Darius gave her on the counter, and turned only to see Azriel propping himself against the refrigerator, arms crossed on his wide chest, a smile on his full, beautiful lips.

God his lips looked delicious. 

And what the hell was wrong with her? 

She couldn’t stop herself, before her eyes slid to his hands. Covered in scars, and absolutely massive, she couldn’t help but wonder what his touch would feel like, what the texture of his skin was like. Oh yeah, and no ring.

“I don’t mind calling you ‘Isa’s mom’ if you’d like me to,” he said with a smirk, “but I would like a name to go with the beautiful face.”

Elain stopped abruptly, actually freezing in place at his words. He thought that she was beautiful? He just…said it? He just told her that she was beautiful?

“Elain,” she whispered at last. “Without an E.”

He frowned and clarified, “so Lain?”

“No. Elain, no E at the end.”

“Ahhh, sorry. Nice to meet you, Elain without an E.”

She laughed nervously. 

He ate up so much space, her whole house seemed smaller. He was like a demonic presence, only the handsomest and the tallest demonic presence ever. She simply could not stop looking at him. It was physically impossible to avert her eyes. So she forced herself to at least open the bag,

“We weren’t sure what to bring,” he told her, “so we settled on bakery cookies.”

“Oh god, I love bakery cookies,” she moaned. How did he know?! Bakery cookies were her favourite treat. The one thing she always craved and went back for. One of a few things that reminded her of her childhood. The happier days of her childhood.

“Oh, well, then you and Darius can bond over your love for bakery cookies. I didn’t mean to buy so much, but then he had some strong opinions on the subject, so here we are…” he opened his hands apologetically.

Elain laughed.

“Darius has great taste, I’ll give him that. But you shouldn’t have…”

“No, we really should’ve,” Azriel insisted. “Your house is very nice. Homey.” He looked around, and Elain blushed softly. She took great pride in her home, in how she decorated it, in its elegance and it pleased her that he saw it too, even if he probably was just trying to be nice. “We don’t have many friends,” he continued, “we recently moved here, so this is…well, this is the first Denver outing we’ve come to,”

Swallowing hard, Elain decided that minute that she needed to rip off the band aid.

“You and…your wife?” he asked, not looking at him and trying to act nonchalant, as she began arranging the cookies on the platter.

Meanwhile, in the den, the party was in full swing, with all toddlers apparently dancing to ‘Dancing in the Dark’.

Azriel chuckled and commented, “this is quite the eclectic playlist,”

Elain smiled, noticing that he’d avoided the question.

“Springsteen…and ABBA before that. And was it Prince that was playing when we came in?”

“Isa made the playlist. She is an old soul.”

“A beautiful soul,” Azriel said. “She was the one who took Darius under her wing on his first day at school. It…meant a lot to me,” his voice dropped and when Elain glanced at him, she saw vulnerability in his expression. A softness that she didn’t see before.

Smiling, Elain began arranging tiny pasties on a tri-level platter. “Can I confess something?”

“Sure,” he approached the counter and said, “and while you are laying it all out for me, why don’t I help you? All the other moms bailed I am guessing?”

“Oh yeah,” Elain seemingly just realised that the kids were dropped off with her, and the moms indeed all bailed. “I guess they did…You can help by arranging the sandwiches.”

She placed a tray of perfectly neat finger sandwiches in front of him. Azriel washed his hands and then set to work.

“I thought Dari was a girl,” Elain giggled. “I am sorry.”

He chuckled. “It’s alright. I figured. Not often boys get invited to a Princess Tea Party.”

“Isa didn’t tell me,” she glanced at the children, and added, “but it seems like they are getting on very well.”

Darius and Isa were holding hands and dancing together. The other girls were dancing around them, all decked out in fake jewels and tiaras.

“Yeah, he is not allergic to attention or anything,” Azriel agreed with a shake of his head, as he smirked to himself.

“Oh, I should’ve asked if there is something Darius doesn’t like,” Elain worried. “Is he allergic to anything?”

“Does he look like he doesn’t like something?” Azriel raised a brow at her and she snorted a laugh. “He eats everything. But only normal, grown-up food. None of that chicken nugget shit or fries. I like for him not to develop any bad habits,”

“I am the same with Isa! We’ve never been to a fast-food restaurant!” Elain exclaimed, surprised that they seemed to share the same philosophy about their children.

“Does this look okay?” Azriel asked, pointing at the neat row of sandwiches.

It was surprisingly easy being with him. Despite his intimidating gorgeousness, Elain didn’t feel any tension, other than her own instant and debilitating attraction to him. But she figured that he was used to attention—99.9% of world’s female population were probably attracted to him. Yet he was capable, fast, and absolutely adept at being in the kitchen. Efficient. Also, he smelled so enticingly, she needed to hold herself back and not try to sniff him and appear like she’d completely lost her mind. But she did. She’d never been attracted to anyone like this. It was instant and so powerful that it actually concerned her. It surely wasn’t healthy that she fought the urge to run her hands over his strong forearms, or that she wanted to press her lips to his beautiful neck. Or rub her cheek against his. Or do other things which she didn’t dare think about now.

He was the type of aggressively masculine handsome male, with an aura of danger and rebellion about him that most women dreamt of. When they were married to their quiet, slightly paunchy, slightly balding account manager or operations supervisor husbands, they dreamt that a man like Azriel would suddenly appear, fall madly in love with them and sweep them off their feet. So it was surreal to watch him arrange finger sandwiches in her kitchen.

“Perfect! There is iced tea in the fridge, if you can get it,” she requested. “And fill the teapot.”

“This really is a perfect little tea party,” he complimented her, as he followed her orders.

Everything was finally ready, and Elain set all the platters and the teapot, a bowl with cubed sugar, another with jam and clotted cream for the scones, on a large tray and Azriel stepped forward and said, ‘allow me’. For that, she was grateful, because the tray was heavy and laden with food, and she whispered ‘thank you’ as Azriel picked the whole thing up easily. 

“The tea is served!” she announced, “take your seats!”

The seven hyper toddlers gathered around the low coffee table and squeaked with excitement when Azriel arrived with the treats. He and Elain placed everything on the table, and then poured everyone their tea. 

Darius was bouncing in his seat, clapping his chubby hands together, his tongue hanging out like usual when he was excited. 

“Hey big guy,” Azriel bent and kissed his son’s head. “Are you having a good time?”

“Dada! I love it so much,” Darius roared with sheer ecstatic delight. “This party is so good!”

“You treating the girls nicely? You are being a gentleman?”

Nodding his consent aggressively, Darius said, “I be nice and good. I like dance and it’s fun.”

Meanwhile, Elain was instructing in the correct way of partaking in the tea, and everyone listened with rapt attention.

“Sandwiches first. Scones next,” she said. “There is jam and cream, if you’d like. Finally, pastries and cookies. Everyone behave like proper ladies and a gentleman, alright?”

Darius immediately reached for the scone, but Azriel stooped next to him and wrapped his arm around his son’s body and whispered quietly into his ear, ‘Dari, remember how Elain said to start with the sandwiches? You should do that,”

“Dada, I don’t want sandwich!” Darius pouted. “I want cake.” He mistook the scone for cake, and already held a spoon heaping with clotted cream. He was clearly liking being independent and making his own decisions. 

“I think you should start with the yummy sandwiches,” Azriel proposed. “There is delicious chicken salad in this one, and egg salad in this…and I think it would make Elain very happy if you tried them first,”

Darius looked up at Elain, who was watching his dad closely, and nodded, “oh, okay. Lain, you want me to eat sandwich?”

She smiled and nodded, “I would love for you to try my sandwiches, Dari.”

“Okay, I eat it then.”

Azriel took one of the linen napkins and tied it around Darius’s neck.

“Dada, I don’t want bip! Why I have to have it?!” his son protested and Elain couldn’t help but smile at his indignation.

Azriel immediately said, “oh, it’s not a bib, Dar. It’s a napkin—it’s a must for High Tea!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Elain helped out and stated, “Absolutely. You ought to wear a napkin for tea.”

That seemed to placate him, and he left the napkin in place.

Azriel mouthed ‘thank you’ to her and she gave him a nod of understanding. 

The way Azriel was with his baby boy was incredible. It’s not just Elain watching an attractive man with a baby that was making her ovaries explode. It’s how Azriel made Darius feel—heard. Azriel didn’t order. He wasn’t impatient or annoyed. He was kind and loving and Elain was awed by their relationship. In just about one sentence, Azriel could convince Darius of what he wanted him to do without any pressure or anger, and Darius was pretty happy to do it.

What Elain didn’t expect was what happened next. Azriel kissed the top of Darius’s head, leaving the kids to their own devices, straightened, and suddenly, extended his hand to Elain. She just stood there, not sure of what she was supposed to do, but then he stepped towards her and took her by the hand, tugging her gently alongside him. Elain followed. 

His hand was massive. It was rough with scars, the palm easily covering the entirety of her hand, the fingers long and strong. 

“I know the other parents dumped the kids on you,” he said, his voice low, as they returned to the kitchen. “And fucked right out of here,”

At that Elain laughed. Azriel cursing was kind of…funny. 

“But,” he moistened his lips, as if he was nervous for some reason. “Do you mind if I stay here? For the duration?”

He looked almost unsure of himself, which was in great contrast to how he generally came off. 

Elain didn’t even know how to answer. She wanted to shout ‘yes, OF COURSE YOU CAN STAY!!!’ but she settled for a more reasonable, “of course.”

He pursed his lips for a moment and then sat down on the bar stool by the counter, and awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.

“I…” he sighed. “I feel like I should explain,”

“No, you don’t have to.”

But he proceeded to tell her, “I’ve never been apart from Darius.”

Elain blinked and exhaled a soft ‘oh’.

He continued, “To answer your earlier question, no, I don’t have a wife and he doesn’t have a mother. It’s just me and him. Always been. Therefore, I am the definition of what you would call a ‘helicopter father’. I’ve never been without him since he was born, and I can’t…” he swallowed. Hard. His voice was dry. “Darius is my life. I had a nervous breakdown earlier this week, when I sent him to school. I sat in the car for the three hours that he was there, because I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I don’t know why I am telling you this. You probably think that I am mental,”

“No,” Elain said firmly, reaching for him and placing her hand on his. “No. I don’t think that at all. And I am not just saying that either to placate you.”

He glanced at her, his gorgeous hazel-amber eyes shining with an untold emotion. But it was his hand beneath her that made her own breath quicken. He lightly drew his thumb back and forth over hers, touching her lightly. 

Now it was her turn to swallow.

But she managed to say, “Love is complicated. People don’t seem to understand how complicated parental love is sometimes. Especially when you don’t have anyone else to share it with and it’s all on you. To be the sole provider of all the love and support and kindness to your child,”

“I guess there is no Mr. Elain Without an E at the End then,” Azriel huffed under his breath.

The comment made her blush, but she nodded curtly.

“There isn’t.”

He exhaled what could be described as a relieved sigh.

“You are pleased?” She challenged him.

He hummed to himself and said at last, “it’s not that I am pleased, per se. But I don’t hate the idea of you being single.”

Now breathless, Elain whispered, “why?”

There was a long pause. 

The silence was interrupted by the exclamations, giggles and conversations taking place in the den. Sinatra was singing ‘Fly Me to the Moon’. The house smelled of pasty and lemons.

“Because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said at last, his eyes boring into hers. There was no pretence in his expression. No falseness. 

“We’ve just met,” she mumbled, her heart beating so hard, she was sure that he could probably see it. “You can’t say such things to me.”

“Why not?” his gargantuan hand migrated from underneath hers on top of her palm, and he lightly stroked her pulse, and then her wrist with his fingers. “You are. Exceptionally beautiful. You aren’t what I expected to meet when I came here for the Princess Tea Party. Your lovely, kind daughter isn’t what I expected either. You are both kind and welcoming and funny. 

“I’ve wasted a lot of fucking time, Elain. So much time spent on the wrong relationships, on women who didn’t deserve my attention, on people and things that brought me nothing in return, but took up a lot of space in my head and sucked out a lot of my energy. 

“And then I got Darius and I realised that life’s too short for half-truths and waiting. So I am direct. You might not like that and I get it. But I am what I am. And if I think that you are beautiful, then you are.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say. She was considered beautiful, it wasn’t exactly news, but she hasn’t been called that before. Not to her face, not by a man such as Azriel. Older people waxed poetic about her ‘pre-Raphaelite’ features. Her golden hair. Her expressive eyes. Her strawberry-and-cream complexion. However, modern men didn’t appreciate the delicacy of her features. They wanted the overly-done, spackled Instagram ‘influencers’. And Elain wasn’t that. Though she was an Instagram influencer.

“And you being single,” he continued, “opens up a world of possibilities for me.”

“What sort of possibilities?” she murmured, her heart pounding in her chest. Was he for real? Did he really find her…attractive? Desirable? It wasn't impossible, but it was so bizarre that she couldn’t really wrap her mind around the fact. Simply because Elain was never desired by anyone before.

He drummed his fingers on the counter and searched for some truth in her face, for something that only he was privy to. Naturally he avoided her question, like he did the marriage question before and she had a feeling that he’d answer it in due time.

“Do you want to eat?” he asked suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“Eat. Do you want to eat something? While our kids are gorging themselves on pastries, do you want to eat something more grownup? I can make us something,” he offered.

This was the most confusing man Elain’s ever met. He got up and went to the refrigerator, acting like he’s been here a million times before.

“What do you feel like?” he asked without looking at her. Then he turned around and said, “let me guess…” he seized her up, while she crossed her arms on her chest and stared down at him. 

“I think…” he tsked, still considering something in his head, “I think you look like a girl who’d like a nice big salad with everything.”

Elain’s mouth popped open into a surprised ‘O’.

“How,” she began saying, but he cut in,

“How did I know that you’d like a nice salad? I have a gift, lovely Elain. I see things. Things that others miss,”

“What do you do?” she demanded, now worried that he was some unsavoury character who was trying to fleece her for information, though it was preposterous. He was driving a Maybach! What did she have that he could possibly want or need?

Meanwhile, Azriel began pulling out lettuces, herbs, a red pepper, jalapenos, scallions and olives from the fridge. 

“I mean, are you going to tell me that I am wrong?” he teased, as he piled the greens on the counter, “you have four varieties of lettuce, you have a daikon radish, you have two…no, three bags of various kale, what the hell is that? Spirulina?! Who has spirulina powder?!”

“I have spirulina!” she almost shouted, but he was laughing.

“Oh, chill, beautiful, I love the variety!” He then grabbed tomatoes, a jar of hearts of palm, and a bag of shelled edamame from the freezer, as well as a bunch of radishes. “I mean daikon? Seriously?!”

“I love daikon!” she exclaimed.

“Clearly…”

Still pouting at his humorous critique, she nevertheless got up and went to the walk-in pantry, before returning a minute later with a large platter.

And all the while, she’s been thinking about how he called her ‘beautiful’. Like it was the most natural thing for him to say. Like he actually thought that and meant it.

“Do you always come to strangers’ homes and start cooking for them?” she inquired tartly, though she definitely didn’t mind watching him take his hoodie off and expose his monstrously gorgeous physique to her in his form-fitting black t-shirt.

“No,” he said simply, as he lined a cucumber on the cutting board and diced it like a professional chef–fast, with precise, perfect movements, which produced perfectly uniform cubes of cucumber. “But then you aren’t a stranger. And I don’t want to be a stranger to you.” He looked up from the cutting board and his luminous eyes bored into hers. “And I think it’s quite normal for a man to want to feed his woman,”

His woman?!?!

Internally screaming, Elain was now panting like a golden retriever. She had no words. Just emotions. 

His woman.

His. Woman.

What?

How did she become his woman?

Oh, and the bastard knew that he was completely throwing her, judging by his indecently sexy smirk, as he began on the radishes, but he played it so cool…just so cool, and continued as if he didn’t just say something totally outrageous.

“You know, we’ve been killing mammoths back in the day,”

“Of course, and you remember, huh?” she finally managed to ask.

“I remember that it’s my pleasure and honour to provide you with a little sustenance. Why the veg though?” Now he was curious.

Elain, discombobulated emotionally and psychologically, needed a moment to gather herself and her thoughts. He was giving her the biggest whiplash of her life.

He went from stroking her hand, to calling her ‘beautiful’ as an endearment, to telling her she was his woman, to now raiding her fridge and making them a salad all in a span of less than 20 minutes.

This was more excitement than she’d experienced in the past 3 years!

She looked down, her hands cupped on her lap. She finally recalled what she was wearing–a pretty white boho dress with some white embroidery and a generously revealing neckline. Okay, she didn’t know that he would storm into her life and turn it upside down when she was dressing for the tea party. But it also didn’t escape her entirely that he admired her dress and perhaps some other things more than once.

“I was an overweight child–which in my mother’s eyes was the greatest sin imaginable–while my two sisters were willow thin. Up until I was about fifteen, my relationship with food was messy, mostly because of the fat shaming that my mother subjected me to,” 

Azriel did not pause his slicing and dicing, but his brow was deeply furrowed with a grim expression. He didn’t comment though. And Elain didn't know why she was telling him these personal, painful things. 

“Anyway,” she shrugged it off, and concluded, “I decided that I wanted to change my attitude towards food. I no longer wanted to punish or reward myself with it. I simply wanted to eat and be healthy. And I discovered that I loved vegetables. Changing how I ate, how I thought, how I viewed myself gave me a new outlook on life–vegetables, fruits, sunshine, walks, gardening–it gave me energy, strength, and a better attitude.

“And when I had my daughter, I swore that I’d instil her with confidence and a much brighter and healthier relationship with food.”

Azriel dumped the first batch of sliced and chopped veggies into the bowl, and began on the rest of the ingredients. The salad was already looking mouthwatering.

“The veggies paid off,” he said at last, looking at her. “You are stunning.”

At that, Elain gasped and he smiled at her.

“Please don’t bother protesting,” he ordered. 

She slapped her hands on the counter, and then announced sternly, “Okay, I can’t take anymore compliments!”

Azriel barked a loud and amused laugh.

“You’ve reached your compliments quota, beautiful?”

“Tell me about Darius,” she demanded, ignoring the ‘beautiful’ quip.

“Darius? What do you want to know? He is not exactly very complicated,” Azriel chuckled.

Elain insisted though. “No. I want to know about you and Darius. What happened to his mother? Where is she? Tell me.”

Azriel hummed and Elain wondered if she’d pushed him too far. She really had no right to ask him personal questions. He’d asked her about vegetables and she then suddenly developed verbal and emotional diarrhoea. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. But she didn’t have to ask him about his kid.

“Where she is,” he suddenly answered, “I have no idea.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, remembering something and then said,

“Honestly, when I said that Darius is my son, I meant it. He is mine. He is my baby, my friend, my son. It’s me and him. There is no mother,”

“Oh, was he born via a surrogate?” it dawned on Elain that that might have been the case, but Azriel shook his head and huffed a bitter sort of snort.

“No. Not at all. His mother is a famous model–now more known with her erratic behaviour and alcohol binges than her career–but when I knew her, she was in her prime. We had a very, and I mean, very fleeting relationship,”

He began salting the salad, squeezing lemon all over, swishing a healthy helping of olive oil on top and then began tossing it with two spoons.

“I don’t know…I hardly even remember hooking up with her,” he admitted and that made Elain squirm in her seat a bit. Azriel talking so openly about his sex life was unsettling. It also made something pinch inside her chest. Something unpleasant and sharp.

Jealousy.

She had no right to be jealous, and it was an irrational feeling towards a man she just met, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I dunno,” he leaned on his elbows and propped his cheek, thinking. “Like I said, there isn’t much to say. One day–it was Wednesday, I remember that very well–my doorbell rang. I went to open it, and there she stood, with a tiny bundle in her arms. It was late April, but fucking cold outside, and all I saw was this tiny bare foot that poked out of the blanket. And then a bare arm. And I was horrified that this kid wasn’t dressed for the weather.”

There was a touch of anger in his voice, but he pushed it down and then said,

“She literally handed me this bundle with a child in it and said that it was mine and he was three days old. She apparently came straight from the hospital? I am not sure why he wasn’t dressed better, but whatever. She told me that she couldn’t take care of ‘it’--she kept calling him ‘it’--and then she simply turned around and walked away. Oh, and she handed me his birth certificate. He was nameless too.

“That was a weird Wednesday,” he chuckled dryly.

Elain stared at him, horrified. This was the most insane story, considering that he and this mysterious model weren’t even in a relationship.

“And? Then what?” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth.

“And then what?” Azriel’s massive shoulders moved in another shrug, and then he straightened and expelled a heavy sight. “What do you think? Got a bit of a mental walloping. That’s some mindfuck, when someone suddenly hands you a baby! And says good luck. I didn’t even know the sex! I had no diapers, no formula, no clothes, no place for him to sleep–ah, I finally discovered that he was a he–no wipes, and oh, no freakin’ name! And I didn’t actually know that he was in fact mine. Plates?”

“What?”

“Where are the plates? It’s time to eat,”

She pointed to a cupboard, but also snapped, “you can’t just leave me hanging here! Tell me the rest of the story! Come on,”

He seemed entertained by her demands, and said, “well, if I tell you my story, you tell me yours too.”

“Fine! Not much to tell,” she muttered.

He looked at her, brow raised in a dare, and said, “you are absolutely telling me the story. And why someone like you isn’t taken. You legit have the perfect little house, with white trim and shutters, this perfect kitchen, perfect floors, and a white picket fence. Where is Mr. Perfect then? Not to mention that you have the most perfect beauty of a daughter!”

Elain smiled shyly and looked out to the den. From this angle, she could see Isa–her sweet, actually perfect little girl. Isa, with her pretty ringlets and her gorgeous soulful eyes, was someone who had the biggest heart and truly was one of the best people she knew. It wasn’t because Isa was her daughter–some kids were assholes and their age didn’t prevent them from being that. But Isa was curious and smart, giving and friendly. Even without asking, Elain knew that Isa took it upon herself to befriend little Darius, and made him feel welcome in their school. Darius seemed like someone who could stand up for himself–his size alone would probably intimidate any bratty kid–but he was also young and innocent, and truly was still more of a baby than a child. He didn’t even know how to speak properly yet. And Elain figured that Isa wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. 

“How did you get on with raising him?” she inquired at last.

Azriel meanwhile piled a good amount of salad onto a plate, and then speared his fork through it. Elain was a little surprised, and yes, miffed, that he didn’t give her any, but then she shouldn’t have expected him to serve her. He already cooked! That was enough.

Azriel stepped closer to her, but didn’t sit down, and towered over her, as he thrust the fork towards her mouth and whispered, “open up”.

Bewildered by the request, Elain just stared at him, completely confused.

“Come on,” he prompted her, pushing the salad against her slightly parted lips. She opened up and he pushed the salad inside, and smiled, watching her chew.

“What are you doing?” she asked at last, once she swallowed. This salad was freakin’ amazing! It was delicious. Perfectly dressed, with a delectable combination of textures and flavours. 

“Feeding you,” he said simply and then took a bite of the salad himself, from the same plate, not changing forks or anything. 

“Why?” she asked, feeling hot and bothered, and…sexual. Why was she so bothered by him? He was not the first man she’d ever come in contact with, but even despite his blatantly indescribable attractiveness this felt different somehow. It felt like a possibility. And Elain wasn't sure what to make of it. What exactly was she hoping for here? “I can feed myself, you know,” she added tersely.

“I am aware,” his tone was the same–calm and reasonable–”but I like the idea of feeding my woman.”

With that, he fed her another mouthful of salad, and she barely avoided choking on it. 

“Your woman?” she repeated, her cheeks heating, her hands trembling on her lap. “Since when exactly did I become your woman?”

“You haven’t yet,” he answered patiently. “But I am hoping that that’s where this is leading. For now, though, you will be my good girl and let me feed you. Now, open up,” 

The words ‘good girl’ scrambled Elain’s insides into an absolute frenzy–there was fluttering, squeezing, palpitations, achy feels between her legs, and all sorts of engorgements…in various parts of her body. And the bastard knew and saw it all, judging by the satisfied, salacious smirk on his disgustingly perfect lips.

This was either the worst or the best Princess Tea Party in history. Elain wasn’t sure which one it was. She also didn’t know what to do with this man. Was he everything that she’d ever dreamed of and hoped for? Probably. But now, faced with an actual man of her dreams, she was stumped. She wished that her sister Nesta was here to help out and try to figure this out, and what her next steps should be, but she was all alone facing this sublime beast of a male.

But, no…

Azriel leaned back on his forearms on the counter, eating lazily, and feeding her, though he still towered over her, even in this position. There was something dominating about his stance, but Elain didn’t find it in herself to care. He also didn’t seem to expect an answer from her–he simply fed them both, and then went back to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of Pinot Grigio and poured them both a glass. 

“Dada! Dada!” they heard the familiar call, and the next moment, Darius sprinted into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and jam, his black curls kind of wild atop of his round head.

He stopped and then extended his chunky hands, a small cake in each palm.

“Dada, I bringed cakes for you,” he explained. “And Lain too. You eat it,” he nudged them, and then dropped the cakes into their outstretched hands.

“Aww thanks big guy,” Azriel said softly, “you are the best boy.”

“Yeah,” Darius accepted the praise easily and didn’t argue. He was the best boy. 

He stood on his toes and tried to see what the adults were eating.

“What you eat, dada?” he demanded.

“Salad,” Azriel said, and then offered, “you want some?”

Darius made a face and shook his head no. 

“No, dada, no salad,” he frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“I figured,” Azriel chuckled and then fed some more to Elain. Darius observed them both, his head cocked to the side, watching. 

“Lain, you love salad?”

“I do. Your dada made a very very delicious salad for us,” Elain said, while Azriel stepped closer to her and she was just about overwhelmed by the scent of masculine pheromones in the air. He smelled of cedar, sharp and crisp, and there was something so attractive about the scent of his skin that she fought the urge to moan out loud. It absolutely didn’t help that Azriel’s finger lightly skimmed over the side of her neck. Leisurely and with strange familiarity, as if he’d done this a million times before with her. 

“Yeah, dada always make good stuffs,” Darius agreed, and Elain held herself together by a thin thread, trying not to alarm a toddler while she was mentally lusting over his father.

“How’s it going with you guys there?” Azriel asked.

“Is good!” Darius reported enthusiastically. “We eated all cakes and stuffs, I want milk and we gonna watch a movie.”

“Ahhh…got it. Can you ask Elain nicely for milk? And may I wash your face?”

“Oh, sorry Lain. Can I have milk please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she got up and poured him a glass of milk, while Azriel grabbed him under his arm and dangled him over the sink.

“I flied!” Darius yelled, spreading his arms, while Azriel tried to stifle a laugh at his antics, and Elain filled her palm with water and began washing Darius’s sticky face. 

“Thank you,” Azriel whispered, while Darius attempted to thrust his arms under the faucet.

“Why are you so jacked up? No more sugar for you,” he warned his son. “Quiet time with the movie.”

“Yeah, I want movie,” Darius agreed. “Do plane, dada!”

Azriel sighed, while Elain laughed at the two of them and chased Darius’s face with a paper towel to wipe him clean and dry. Then Azriel lifted Darius with one arm all the way above his head, and Darius screeched loudly with excitement, as he flapped his arms.

All this commotion called the rest of the children to the kitchen, and Isa watched ‘the plane’ enviously, before saying, “I want this too!”

Azriel put Darius down and said, “Alright. I’ll give everyone a plane ride, while we get the movie going.”

“They can watch ‘Cinderella’ or ‘Snow White’,” Elain told him, while he lifted Isa high above his head and she yelled and hooted with delight screaming ‘mama, look at me!’ Everyone headed back to the den, and Elain watched Azriel with her daughter and it did something to her. Despite his size and his somewhat menacing appearance, Azriel was such a gentle man. He was incredibly thoughtful and good with children, and they seemed to trust him instantly. But there was something wild and untamed about him as well. Like he’d never been in the company of a female who domesticated him a bit. 

“Lain,” Darius tugged on her skirt, and she looked down, and stroked her fingers through his hair. “Do you want hug?” he offered. “I give good hug. Dada say and Cass too.”

She grinned and nodded, “Yes, Dari, I’d love a good hug from you.”

“Oh good!” he opened his arms and she squatted, and he immediately threw his fatty arms around her neck. She wrapped him in her embrace and sat down, with him straddling her. 

“Who is Cass?” she asked, gently rubbing his back, as he tucked into her body and pressed his face between her breasts.

“Cass is uncle,” he said, and then exhaled deeply, settling in for a hug. 

Elain rocked him slowly on her lap, enjoying his (substantial) weight and his solid sturdiness. He was so much denser than Isa, yet she loved that he was still a baby. Elain loved babies and once in her life imagined that she’d have a large family–four, maybe five, children–a husband who’d love her and whom she’d adore. But none of it happened. Nothing’s happened the way she planned. 

She pressed her cheek to Darius’s head and hugged him a little tighter. For some reason, her own failures made her sad. She was a lifegiver by nature–she loved children, baking, gardening, she loved watching things grow: flowers, plants, herbs and even bread. She loved to experience the mystery of creation, loved watching things blossom and grow and come to life. Even despite all the challenges, she loved her pregnancy, loved giving birth to Isabella and nurturing her every day of her life. 

“Dari, what does your dad do?” Elain asked.

Darius thought for a moment and then said, “Dada make pictures.”

‘He makes pictures?” she repeated, a little uncertain about what he meant. “Like an artist?”

“I dunno,” Darius admitted with a sigh.

“No,” they heard Azriel’s voice. “I am a photographer.”

Elain looked up, lifting her cheek from Darius’s head and saw Azriel standing in the doorway, his arms folded on his chest. But it was his gaze that jolted her. His eyes were hungry. Ravenous. Like he was looking at his next meal. Elain froze under that gaze: the way his hazel eyes devoured her. Devoured her with his son in her lap.

“Well, I stepped away for ten minutes and he certainly found a way to make himself very comfortable.”

Darius didn’t even turn his head, firmly attached to every curve of Elain’s body.

“He wanted to give me a hug,” Elain explained.

“I bet he did,” Azriel chuckled. “I’d like to give you a hug too…”

He winked at her and Elain blushed as usual, because she did that a lot with him. Seemed to her that the kind of hugs Azriel wanted from her involved a lot less clothing and a lot more…hugging. Though she couldn’t say that she hadn't imagined how those huge scarred hands would feel on her naked skin–about a dozen times now.

“You wanna give Lain hug, dada?”

“I would. Run and watch the movie with the girls, big guy. It just started.”

“But I wanna be with Lain,” Darius protested, pouting. Then he finally tore his head away from her chest and looked up at her, “Lain, you wanna be with me?”

She stroked his soft fluffy cheek and kissed his little hand,

“I do, Dari. I like you very much, sweet boy.”

“Yeah? I like too, Lain. You and Isa. I like a lot.”

Then he finally climbed off her lap and rushed back to the den.

Azriel watched him, and then his eyes transferred back to Elain. He rubbed his chin and drew his thumb over his lower lip.

“Forgive him. He has no experience with women at all.”

“I understand. And it’s no problem. I already adore him,” she admitted. “And I want to give him hugs and kisses. He is too cute.”

“He is cute,” Azriel agreed. “My heart. Life of my life.”

Azriel moved smoothly, walking to the electric kettle and turning it on. Then he took out a couple of tea cups and set them on the counter.

“I have a few questions,” he said, busying himself with tea. His voice was firm, with a touch of demand in it. “And I’d like for you to answer them truthfully.”

“O-kay,” Elain allowed, squeezing her laced fingers together. 

Azriel poured hot water over the loose tea leaves in a pretty English teapot and brought it to the counter. He sat down and stretched his long, muscular legs before him, relaxing into the back of the chair.

“Relax,” he told her.

“I haven’t been relaxed since you stepped into my house,” she blurted out.

“Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?” He looked serious, and a bit tense now. 

She shook her head, “no. Not uncomfortable.”

“What then?”

“Confused.”

He didn’t respond and then poured them both tea, once it steeped long enough.

“You know how to make tea,” she commented, sort of puzzled by that. How would a man like this know how to make a proper cup of tea?

“Lived in London for almost four years,” he explained. “Learned there.”

Well, that explained it.

“Why are you confused?” he pushed.

“You are confounding,” Elain sipped her tea, trying to find something to do with her hands and being grateful for the cup. 

“In what way?”

“Your manner…the way you seem to dominate the space around you. The way you are with me.”

“How am I with you?” he pressed, drumming his fingers slowly on the white quartz, his eyes never leaving her face.

“I am not sure. But unlike any man before. You are forward and challenging. But also thrilling. And I don’t know how to deal with you. I…I am not,” she sipped again, now burning her mouth, but terrified of admitting her truths to him. 

“You’ve been dealing with me very well up to now,” he argued.

“Yet inside, I am dazed and confused.”

Suddenly, he reached towards her and his enormous, warm, rough palm cupped her cheek. She stiffened in place, almost clutching at the edge of the counter, but she didn’t want to look too dramatic.

“You don’t need to be confused. But I like that you are dazed,” he murmured, lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “God you are so fucking beautiful…” he gasped, as if disbeliving that fact. “I’d love to kiss you.”

She was feeling faint. Truly, if she was going to collapse now and faint like some 19th century damsel, she wouldn’t be surprised. 

Who said things like these?!?!

“I…what? No. No, you can’t.”

“Why?” he inquired, his brow furrowed. 

“I,” she felt like she was hyperventilating.

“Is there a man in the picture?” he asked then, his tone dry.

“No. No man.”

He smiled a quick, pleased smile.

“Then that’s good.”

Elain didn’t bother asking him about a woman in his life. It didn't seem like he had one. And his comment about Darius not being used to women only confirmed that. But, that wasn’t enough.

“What I am trying to say,” she whispered, while he still held her face in his palm, and his touch was gentle and warm, as he listened attentively, and in the background Gus the Mouse was singing a song, “is that I’m not experienced. Not at all,” she hurried, wishing to get this out. “I am…I don’t have experience with men. I am not experienced with sex. I don’t know how to do this,” she waved her hand between their bodies. “This fancy banter. This…You! I don’t know how to do you,”

“You can do me very easily,” he chuckled a husky, sexy chuckle. “I’d love for you to do me.”

“No, no!” she slapped his other hand in frustration. “You think I am kidding, but I am not! I am not kinky,”

“I didn’t say I was kinky,” he reminded her with that impossible smirk of his. “Why did you assume I was kinky? And what’s kinky, exactly?”

“That’s the thing!” she exclaimed in frustration. “I don’t know! I have Isa and my business, and that’s it. I don’t know the modern lingo. I don’t know what people are into. I am not into spanking and choking,”

“Seems like you do know what people are into,” he teased.

“I only know a little because I read books,”

“Naughty books, it seems like,”

But at last, he dropped his hand from her face, and she thought that he was annoyed with her, but he only covered her hands with his and squeezed lightly.

“Calm down and breathe.”

Elain realised that she was panting loudly, and she felt extremely hot. She was sweating beneath her dress, and her hands were shaking.

“Elain, please,” he said kindly. “Please…I am sorry if I’ve upset you. It’s not my intention at all. But you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,”

“I’ve only had sex once,” she shot out in one breath.

He had no visible reaction for a few seconds. Then, confusion. Then, he asked,

“You mean…wait…what do you mean? You,”

“Basically a virgin,” she admitted bitterly, hanging her head. 

They were both silent for a few moments, before she continued,

“I was a senior in university–twenty-one years old. Almost twenty-two. Never had a real boyfriend. Never even been kissed other than by Bobby Sands when we were nine. And don’t tell me that I am ‘pretty and how could that be’,” she warned him.

“But you are pretty and how could that be?” he said immediately and she smiled weakly at him. He was smiling back.

“Anyway, I went to a party and met this guy Graysen Nolan–I mean, I knew who he was–he was a football superstar. He was the quarterback for the Buffaloes and he was at the party and he was paying me attention. Like, a lot of attention. And he was laughing with me and joking, and telling stories and slipping me Margaritas,”

“Did he rape you?” Azriel’s tone was deadly, and Elain saw that moment in his expression that he was capable of some dark deeds.

“No,” she shook her head no. “I was willing. I mean, I don’t know–he wasn’t violent. He wasn’t mean. But I was drunk. I mean, I guess I consented. I am not sure…”

“So he took advantage of you at the very least.”

“Yes. And he also took my virginity. Which I don’t even remember happening, or feeling it. I don’t even know if he took it entirely, to be honest.  And he didn’t use a condom. And because I was a hopeless virgin, I wasn’t on any kind of birth control. And I guess I was too stupid to go to Walgreens the next day and get Plan B. Then three weeks later, I realised that my period was late. And late. And I was terrified, because things like these don’t happen, right? They don’t happen to good girls who are virgins. It couldn’t happen to me. I went and I got a pregnancy test and it was positive.”

“And you kept her,” Azriel said simply.

“I considered it. I really did. I considered getting an abortion and just chucking it off to a bad, drunk decision in college. But then I also always wanted to be a mother and as I thought about it, I was more and more petrified that somehow, I was given this option and if I didn’t take it, I might ever have it again. Looking back, it seems very juvenile…almost religious. And I am not religious at all. 

“I think deep down, I just wanted to have her. I don’t think I could ever actually go through with an abortion. 

“And as difficult as it’s been at times, I never regretted my decision. Never. I never thought what my life would have been without her…it just wasn’t an option any longer. And in some ways, some doors closed for me, but others opened. I became a caterer, and now I have a side business that does flowers as well, and I am doing…pretty good. Financially, I am more successful than I thought I would be. 

“I started with making cakes and cupcakes and children’s parties and birthdays and anniversaries and then I began expanding further, and I have a hugely successful Instagram account, with recipes and videos. And that led to paid sponsorships and advertisements. So I don’t know how, but somewhere along the way, I became successful. 

“But when I say that I am inexperienced, I mean it. I’ve only had sex once. And I got pregnant. And I’ve never been with a man since.”

He was back leaning in his chair, watching her, lightly licking his lower lip.

“So,” he said at last, “I have a question for you.”

Elain wiped her brow with her hand, feeling raw and exposed.

This was definitely the worst Princess Tea Party in history. Definitely.

“Yeah?” she breathed.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The question was not what she was expecting. Shocker. The least shocking thing about this was that he shocked her. 

“I…what? Why are you asking me this?” she demanded.

“It’s a simple question,” he said calmly. “Am I attractive to you?”

YES. 10000% yes.

“Everyone would find you attractive,” she said instead.

“That wasn’t the question,” he reminded her. 

He poured himself more wine from the open bottle and sipped it slowly.

“Because I find you very attractive. Beautiful, in fact. And I’d like to kiss you, at the very least,”

“No,” she gasped. “You can’t kiss me!”

He bobbed his head side to side, and then decided, 

“Okay. Well, if you won’t let me kiss you, then can you climb on my lap so I can finger you until you come. Because I really, really want to watch you come. 

“I think you’d come beautifully for me. And maybe then I can kiss you.”

The thundering shock that roiled the entirety of Elain’s body was unlike anything she'd experienced before. Because that could not be what she just heard. He could not have said these words. 

She murmured, absolutely floored, “you did not just say this to me.”

“Oh no, I definitely did,” he insisted, without taking his crazy eyes off of her.

That’s what it was. He must have been insane. There was no other explanation.

“I did say it,” he repeated with that maddening calmness of his. “Because from the moment I saw you, I wanted to watch you come for me. Usually I am not this forward,”

“I find that hard to believe!” she hissed hysterically, but he ignored her,

“But I feel like you are a little sad, probably tired, and doing your best. And you haven’t been loved, or admired for a long time. And you deserve it. So, climb on my lap, while they watch the cartoon, and I will make you come. 

“I am good at it,” he assured her needlessly.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she was trying to form a thought and failing miserably. “I am sure you are!”

“I am,” he confirmed. “If you prefer, I will gladly eat your pussy, which I am sure is as sweet as a strawberry…though for that, maybe we should go to the bathroom?”

Elain was shaking her head mutely.

She was lost. And her ability to speak was gone. As was her ability to think.

Who dared say such things to someone they just met?

“Well, Mr…I am sorry, I don’t know your last name,” she said, her voice trembling with tension and embarrassment. 

“Night,” he offered sweetly.

“Of course. Mr. Night. This has been a very entertaining day. I’ve enjoyed meeting you, I think. But no, I will not sit on your lap and allow you to do…all that,” she waved her hand, refusing to actually repeat his words.

“I apologise if I embarrassed you,” he said seriously. “It was not my intention.”

She pursed her lips and didn't say anything.

“Truly, Elain, I guess I am sorry.”

She huffed, “You guess?”

“I mean, I am not sorry at all, but I suppose it’s the right thing to say under the circumstances. I am supposed to be contrite,”

Elain threw her hands up in the air helplessly. 

“Why are you so weird?!” she cried out. “Do you just say the first thing that comes into your head and you have zero self-control?”

“I have plenty of self-control,” he argued. “I am not presently bending you over the counter and filling you with my dick. No matter how much I want to. No matter how much you want to.”

“I don’t want that!” she argued, but her voice came out kind of breathy.

“Okay. But you are lying. And maybe scared. But you definitely have given it some serious thought. I don't know much, but I do know when a woman wants me.”

He got up from the chair and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Here it is–I want you. Like, a lot. The way I haven’t wanted anyone probably ever. And if I am reading you right, and I think that I am, you want me too. But, now that I understand a little more about your background, I imagine that you’d prefer a relationship, as opposed to just a sweaty, hot, passionate fuck.”

Elain just blinked at him, while he continued,

“But I am not going to pressure you or go all crazy stalker on you.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t thank me yet. Darius and I go for a walk in Wash Park, around the pond, every night at around 5:15pm. I get him nice and tired out for dinner and then hopefully, it will be quiet time for the night. 

“Anyway, like I said, I am not going to pressure you into anything. But if you want to see me again–see us–then hopefully you and Isa will come and join us for a walk. And then we’ll go back to my place and I’ll cook dinner. And then, you can stay over. Or not.

“Like I said, I am not one to waste time.”

The movie was almost over, and Elain got up, straightening her dress. 

Azriel stayed behind in the kitchen, watching her from his spot. 

“Hey guys!” Elain greeted them. “Did you have so much fun?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Well, I have a little parting gift for all of you,” she took something out from a little bag and announced, “friendship bracelets! You seven are all friends now, so choose a bracelet that you want to give your new friend.”

Little Darius got really confused by the instructions, taking a bracelet for himself, which he did not want to give up, and then someone else wanted it, so there was a decent amount of fighting that descended into tears.

Elain caught Azriel’s amused grin, as he watched the commotion, while cleaning up in the kitchen. He wasn’t helping her calm the masses, but he was washing the dishes, which was just as good. 

At last, Isa gave Darius his bracelet and he was placated. Elain took his delightfully fat arm and wrapped the bracelet over the fold around his wrist. He was watching intently as she lined the clasps and closed the bracelet on his hand. 

“Dada!” came the familiar call, and Darius took off, waving his arm around. “Dada! Look at! You love it? Isa give it to me.”

“This is a great friendship bracelet.” Azriel approved. “Who did you give yours to?”

“Tay!” 

“Did she like it?”

“Yeah,” Darius nodded, twisting his hand and admiring his bracelet. “Now I have many friends.”

Moms started coming over right about then, to pick up their daughters. They all, without fail, gave Azriel curious, somewhat frightened, but very intrigued looks. 

Meanwhile, Darius began cleaning up after the party, gathering all the spoons and forks, and bringing them to the kitchen without being prompted. Isabella followed suit, getting the cups, two at a time, while Darius returned to the den, and stacked the saucers and the plates in neat piles, tongue hanging out from concentration, while he stopped once in a while to admire his bracelet.

“Your son is unreal,” Elain whispered as she passed Azriel. 

He chuckled.

“What is he even? A damn miracle kid,” she continued, though she avoided any other topics of conversation, especially those of a more intimate nature, and only stuck to admiring the adorable toddler.

Azriel was washing the dishes methodically, his inked forearms wet and glistening, and somehow, extra attractive right now. 

“He does chores,” he said, while Darius ambled with three plates in his hands. “Somewhat badly, but he does them.”

“I think he does them perfectly!” Elain announced firmly. 

Once the dishes were washed, dried and put away, Azriel wiped his hands and called, “Dar, time to go, buddy.”

“We can’t stay, da?” Darius asked sadly.

“I think we need to let Elain rest. She’s been working really hard and made this gorgeous party for you guys.”

“Yes! Thank you, Lain!” Darius yelled.

“You are welcome, sweet boy,” Elain stroked his head. “Go get your cap.”

“No friendship bracelet for me?” Azriel’s low, sexual voice was suddenly right behind her, and Elain jumped, realising that he was standing behind her. His face dipped lower and his nose made a long, gentle swipe along her cheek. 

Heart pounding, she felt her nipples harden and Azriel’s proximity made her pant-y. She was stifling the urgent need to moan.

“I have one for you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear softly. Then he reached and took her wrist in his huge hand, before slipping a plain silver band from his wrist, and closing it over hers. He wore a bunch of bracelets–mostly silver, some leather, some linked and knotted, others just bands, and this one was from his collection.

“Very nice,” he admired his bracelet on her hand and then stepped around, facing her. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, his eyes hooded and warm.

He slowly lifted his hands and cupped her face between them.

“I was honest when I said that I would not push you,” he murmured huskily. “But until you tell me ‘no’ and until I hear it from your own lips that you are not interested, I will remain as into you as I am right now. Infatuated. Flabbergasted. You brought me to my knees without even trying. And until you tell me otherwise, I would want to fuck you and make you mine. I promise you that your tight little pussy will be mine. And this fucking glorious ass. And your pink mouth, which looks like a half-open tulip. I want every hole. Every crevice. Every damn fucking bit of you, down to your soul. And I will have it. Because we’ve been written in the stars, baby.”

He looked down at her, and just when Elain thought that he was going to kiss her, he softly pressed his lips to her forehead and then let go of her.

Darius arrived with his flat cap on his head and then he took Azriel’s hand.

“Bye Lain! Bye Isa. You be good.”

Elain, who could barely breathe since Azriel’s wildly inappropriate and heated words, only managed to nod, as she watched the father and son open the door and walk out.

To be continued

[oddballwriter]

Dwelling in the Night, Part Seven: Special Delivery

Series Masterlist

Summary: Steven is caught up about the night that The Silhouette talked to him, thinking he was Marc, MoonKnight, but they sounded so much like his friend and neighbor YN. Steven spends nights and days thinking about it denying clear signs till Jake comes up and decides to let Steven in on a little secret.  

Warnings: Mentions of vampire-themed things such as (implied) consumption of blood and blood bags. The reader is the vampire. Steven had a bit of a moment where he was in denial. Steven and Jake argue and bicker throughout a mass majority of this chapter but what's new? There's talk about reader being in danger of being hunted down by vampire/monster hunters.

Author’s Snip: Here we go! Part seven baby! And I got notes for eight done and working on nine. I hope you guys are liking this because the end is NOT in sight. Lol

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 2244

It's been eating at Steven for days now and he couldn't get it out of his mind.

He saw you enter the alleyways, he knows he did. He could recognize you easily. But next thing he knows he comes across the Silhouette and they actually talk to him, and they sounded like you. But it couldn't have been you. It just couldn't. Steven refused to believe such a thing.

He and the rest of the system know what the Silhouette is and they don't really hide it either with how they talked about what they do and why even if they themself never actually confirmed it, and you just couldn't be that. You couldn't possibly be a vampire.

Vampires were bloody-thirsty beings that went out looking for someone or something to get their meals from. And that just wasn't you. You could be such a thing. You never loomed over him. Never looked like you had some plan in your eyes.

But then again you never go out in the day, apparently sleeping due to... something regarding your lifestyle or work. Did you ever actually say what you did that would cause that? Your strict liquid diet. Your collection of antiques. The closed curtains in the day. Your interesting decor. The photo of who you say is your relative that you look exactly like through some weird genetic lottery.

No. No. That's ridiculous. This is ridiculous. You aren't a blood-sucking vampire. You were too ni-

"Jeez, what's got you in a twist, huh Steven?" Jake intrudes in the middle of Steven's train if thought. "Nothing. It's nothing." Steven claims to his co-alter. "It doesn't seem like nothing I can feel you thinking yourself into knots in here." Jake says, "Mind telling me what that is, amigo?" Jake asks again.

Steven sighs with a bit of a groan at the tail end of it, "Something strange happened a few nights back when I was doing the rounds around the block." Steven admitted, but Jake's silence was a tell that Jake wanted him to be more specific. "I saw Y/N leaving into the alleys. I thought that was odd so I followed them a bit because that's the alleyway and I wanted to make sure nothing happened to them. But I lost them at some point and when I did, that Silhouette person showed up and talked to me, I think they thought I was Marc." Steven explained further. "And?" Jake questioned. "It's stupid. I'm just getting in my own mind." Steven claimed again. "What was so weird about it, Steven?" Jake prods. "They sounded like them." Steven finally confesses.

"You think they're the same person?" Jake asks.

"I didn't say that." Steven idly corrects.

"So you're all caught up on the fact that they sound alike but you also don't think that they're the same person?" Jake inquires with a tone that holds skepticism towards Steven's reasonings. "I don't know..." Steven mutters before switching back to being more confident in his idea, "No. No. They aren't the same person. They just can't be." Steven proclaims. "Why not?" Jake counters.

"Because they just can't be, Jake! I have a hard time believing that they could ever be such a thing." Steven exclaims. "Vampires are unsettling and just want to drink blood and use trickery and other things to get it. I've never felt that way with them. I've never felt in danger around them, if anything I worry about them being in danger or getting hurt." Steven explains. "So your reasoning is that they're too pretty and polite to be a vampire?" Jake remarks.

"What the bloody hell are you trying to get at here, Jake?" Steven snaps back.

Jake's silent for a moment, but only a short moment before speaking again. "Give me the body." he requests, "I have something to show you.".

🩸🩸🩸

It was a short track, about ten minutes, down to a rentable garage that the system knew was where Jake kept all his things for his work like his cars and equipment. Marc and Steven never went or looked through to see it because it didn't have much for them. But Jake has asked Steven to stay co-fronting as Jake made the walk.

"What exactly do you want to show me?" Steven asks from the reflection in a building window as Jake waits d for the crossing light the change, "You'll see." Jake says casually. "I don't like the ambiance of this, mate." Steven comments as he stands in the glass, "I'm not a fan of surprises, especially when it's something from you." he adds.

"It's not a surprise, Steven. I just don't have good words to explain it, so the best action is to just show you." Jake explains. "Once this is all done you'll understand and know." Jake claims before continuing to walk. "I don't like how you're beating around the bush, you know that?" Steven calls out to him before moving along with him.

Soon enough, the two make it to the garage. Everything was still in place. The same cars and sets of various things say for a mini fridge on a table and a cooler set below the table Steven doesn't remember being there before. He takes a moment to think about it but settles on the idea that maybe he and Marc have just never noticed them before. But he realizes that whatever there is to see involves these things when Jake saunters towards the table. Casually opening the freezer part, taking out two ice packs, and placing one in the bottom of the cooler.

"Jake," Steven asserts, "What could you possibly have in store for you to need a cooler and bloody mini-fridge in your gara-" Steven was stunned out of finishing his sentence when Jake opened the actual fridge part to reveal blood bags, and a lot of them packed inside.

"What the hell!" Steven exclaims in horror at the display, having such a strong reaction that the body staggers slightly even though he isn't entirely fronting. Jake finds their footing and starts reaching into the fridge to grab one but Steven takes control of the body and yanks their hand back. "Jake, what in the bloo- what in the fuck is wrong with you?" Steven yells looking towards the window of one of the cars, seeing Jake looking back at him.

"It's a long story. I'll explain when everything is done." Jake says. "No! No! Absolutely not." Steven interjects, "You are explaining everything to me right now. Do you understand me?" Steven demands. Jake shrugs "Alright.", "But close the fridge door, the blood needs to stay cool or else it goes bad." he adds.

Steven shuts his eyes to avoid seeing the bags when he closes the door before looking back to Jake, "Spill." he demands again.

"Those are for Y/N. I found out that they were not only a vampire, but that they were that Silhouette person. Both because they sound the fucking same and because I accidentally saw them chase someone down. They didn't kill them but they did do some weird power thing so that they don't remember what happened and let the person go. I didn't mean to spy on them that time. I was just scouting around and happened to witness that without them seeing me." Jake started explaining. "But, I was worried about our safety so I... might have paid them a visit while they were sleeping." he then details, hesitating to admit that he broke into your flat. Steven was about the tear him a new one but Jake stopped him with a "Let me finish.". "I just looked around. I found them in the coffin in their living room because of course I did. They were... sleep? Or something. Whatever happens to vampires when it's daylight, I don't know." Jake shrugged. "Again. I did nothing to anything or to them, I just saw what I needed to see and left." he clarifies.

"After that I caught them walking the alleyways again and, while disguised, told them that I knew who they were and that all I wanted was for them to keep their fangs off you and technically Marc. And they did, they said they weren't planning on it anyways-" Jake picks back up but Steven comes into the talk. "You told them about us?" Steven questions. "I didn't say that." Jake corrects, "I told them to not hurt you and 'Moonknight', so technically Marc. They know nothing about this." Jake clears up as he points between his place in the reflection and where Steven is.

"And you didn't tell me when you learned all this why?" Steven asks, upset at being left out of the loop, "I mean- I feel like I'm experiencing all the same rubbish with Marc all over again." Steven rambles in disappointment. "I had to make sure we were safe or in danger before doing anything. I was doing my job being part of this system." Jake defends. "I get that you're mad but I was doing this to keep us safe. I would have let you figure it out but you were driving yourself nuts and I didn't know how to explain it to you without you actually losing it." Jake apologizes. "You telling me would have been nice." Steven remarks.

"You didn't even want to believe vampires existed at first. How was I meant to break the news to you that your little crush was a vampire? Plus I didn't know if they were aiming to eat from you because you're so trusting of them or not until recently." Jake rants.

Steven rubs his temples to ease his head as he digests all this information. "Does Marc know?" Steven questions in a groan. "Jake shakes his head, "As far as I know, no. I don't even think he knows that they quit their work in the alleyways since you were out then." Jake answers.

"Why did they stop?" Steven asks himself. "Listen, I just started doing this to see if maybe they would take it, and they have been. We have a thing set up where I deliver the blood bags to them and they tell me when they need more. I don't really know why they're quitting." Jake claims. "They said something about 'unwanted attention' back when they thought I was Marc that night. Plus he hardly knows YN so we might as well wait till he does and then we explain it to him." Steven mentions.

Jake does a well-that-explains-it gesture but Steven stays in the thought. "Maybe they really are in trouble. Lots of trouble." Steven worries.

"Listen, hermano. We can worry about all that later. But right now I think we should finish the delivery. Yeah?" Jake gestures to the mini-fridge. "I can finish it for you if you want. You seemed kinda disturbed by the-" Jake offers but Steven buds in, "No, I can do it." he says.

Jake tells Steven how to pack the blood bags into the cooler properly and make the walk back to the flats.

🩸🩸🩸

Steven spends a moment staring at your flat's front door. He's made the ten-minute walk back from the garage, past the front desk, and up the elevator, all he had to do was knock. But he felt oddly nervous and hesitant. Like, some part of him still didn't want to believe that he was actually delivering blood bags for you to feed off of because you're really a vampire.

"Are you sure they're awake?" Steven whispers. "It's about five-forty or so and it's getting dark out now. I'm sure they're up. They might actually be waiting." Jake answers, "Have your keys ready to head into our flat so they don't see us." Jake mentions, Steven following the instruction and unlocking the door to his flat so he could pull it off.

With a deep breath, he places the cooler at the door, does the knocking rhythm that Jake taught him, and slips into his flat without making too much sound.

Steven stands with his ear pressed to the door, hearing what sounds like your door open, then promptly close. He waits a moment before opening the door again and peaking out into the hall and looking at your flat. The cooler is gone.

Upon this sight, Steven pulls back into his flat and turns towards the rest of it but just stays standing there, looking towards the ground as he tries to process this now.

You are a vampire... that's... okay. That's perfectly fine. That's just how you are. That's great to have in mind. Now everything odd about you has an explanation and he can make everything vampire-friendly for you when you come over and he knows to overlook everything at your place. He now knows your secret. Without your knowing.

"Should I tell them that I know?" Steven ponders to Jake. "Well, you'll have to explain how and that would snowball into you having to explain everything about us." Jake remarks, "And I think we should at least have Marc in on it." Jake sarcastically suggests.

"Tell me what?" Marc's voice comes in as if it were on cue. Steven and Jake let out stressed groans before Jake chimes in "Steven, go sit down and get the mirrors.".

Turning his attention to Marc he tiredly says "Marc, bare with us here, but it's a long and wild story.".

[soaringwide]

What I do not read on

Decided to update what I'm do not agree to read on, to use this as a reference post for future use. As always, I am free to refuse a reading if it's in too much of a grey area and I don't feel comfortable doing so. If you've paid you'll be refunded, if it was free, well, I just won't do it and you'll be blocked if you complain or harass me.

How to book a reading with me

Health issues:

I refuse to read on severe health issues, or death related topics. General inquiry about improving you health and lifestyle is okay as long as you don't rely solely on this reading. Mental health is only okay if you're looking for additional support in conjunction to being followed by a professional.

Financial or legal issues:

These things are too serious to attempt a tarot reading on them. Go to you financial or legal advisor instead. It includes stocks, investments, gambling, lawsuits or legal trouble, and so on.

Future spouse, soulmates, twinflames, starseed

While I'm open to read about your existing love life or potential future relationships, I do not vibe with the above-mentioned concepts that are extremely new-age connoted, and no, it's not because I read tarot that I agree with these things. That just does not align with either my conception of how the future flows, or my personal cosmology and spiritual beliefs.

Reading on behalf of someone else

What I mean by that would be, for example, to ask what your mom should do in XYZ situation, or what you exe's love life is going to be like in the future, anything where you're not the focus of the reading. When inquiring about someone's influence on your life, it always has to come back to you because you are the one requesting the reading.

Celebrities and fictional characters:

Celebrities are under enough scrutiny without having to worry about internet stalkers praying on their energies, and as for fictional characters, I just find the idea very disconnected from reality, sorry not sorry.

Stalking and harm:

This should go without saying but if I sense that you have the intention of stalking or causing harm to someone, I will refuse your reading.

God(s):

I am not a guru nor a priest, therefore, I will not speak in the name of any deity or particular spirit. While I'm open to relay spiritual or magical messages, I will not name drop unprompted or ask a deity what they think about you. It's different for an existing relationship but we are in a grey area here so best would be to talk together about your query before the reading.

This may change at any moment if I realize I've forgotten something important or if my views have evolved.

Go back to masterlist

[sea-owl]

Back to my seasonal wives au because I can.

So, as explained in the previous post, the seasonal wives are the chosen temporary partners of the four seasons, aka the Bridgerton brothers. Think of it as like a sacrificial bride type of situation. The wives can be wives for either just a season or a few years. They are marked over their hearts, and when the mark disappears, they are done with their duty. They are seen as very desirable after and are well compensated. Each town offers up a bride based on a rotation schedule.

Kathony - Fall

Mark: A tree with multi colored leaves

Fall is probably one of the busiest seasons, from bringing in the harvest to gathering supplies for winter. The trees change color, and nature prepares to go dormant. Anthony has a lot on his plate during this season. Thankfully, he's got Kate there to force him to sit down and take a break. He was so serious before her, now she could have him playing. I'm the leaves with her with just one look. Despite how good Kate has been for Anthony, she wasn't the original choice. Anthony was going to originally mark her sister Edwina, but Kate had mistaken Anthony for a creep and got in his face. Trying to create some distance, Anthony tried to push her back but instead marked her. Well damn now he's stuck with her for at least the season. Anthony has probably had the most brides among his brothers, but a lot of his brides were more like business transactions than him desiring true companionship.

Benophie - Winter

Mark: Snowflakes

Benedict, like his season, is one of the most fickle of the brothers. He has actually switched brides mid-season because he felt like it, much to Anthony's annoyance. He really enjoys designing each snowflake. But his artist bohemian lifestyle can cause some issues with his responsibilities. Thus leading to fluffy snow one day and storms the next. Sophie's there to keep him on track, and inquire his mercy should he lose his temper. Benedict completely missed his choosing ceremony because he spotted Sophie in the crowd and decided he was gonna make her the new winter bride. It took him majority of fall to find Sophie again. By random luck he found her while she was doing some shopping for her employers and then proceeded to whisk her away. Sophie was pissed her shopping went to waste.

Polin - Spring

Mark: Blooming flowers

Colin and Penelope met randomly before she was chosen for a bride. Penelope was enjoying the spring's rain and dancing in it. A gust of wind took her bonnet, and it proceeded to hit Colin in the face. They struck up a friendship, and Colin honestly spent more time with her than his bride at the time. Penelope developed feelings for him during their friendship, but he left when summer came. She thought he was a travler based on his stories, so she believed him a nice what if. The next year is Penelope's hometown's turn to have a spring bride chosen. Colin recognized Penelope and placed his mark on her. As spring Colin's duty is to bring nature out of the dormant state, it was put in and breathe new life in. It is a delicate process, and unfortunately, Colin has a temper possibly the worst of his brothers. That's where Penelope steps in to either calm him down or fight back with him. She helps him find the best ways to help revive nature whether to be gentle with it or give it some tough love.

Grucy - Summer

Mark: The sun

Lucy is the newest of the wives and was picked by the other three. Gregory was having trouble finding a wife and love like his brothers had. He falls in and out of love too quickly. So he decided why not. Maybe to help find a good wife, he should consult his sisters in-laws. He asked his in-laws to please help him with this aeason's choosing. So they did just that. When one wasn't busy helping their husband with his season, she joined the other two as they looked through the town that would be responsible for producing the bride. They found Lucy. Since Gregory couldn't technically approach her until his season came he wrote letters and sent them via his in-laws. Lucy was surprised to see how much older tje brides were. She would have thought they were lying if they didn't have the undisputed proof of their marks. Gregory's job is probably one of the chillest of the brothers. His main responsibility is to make sure the growth Colin started in spring kept going through the summer, so it was ready for Anthony when fall came. There were a few summer plants he could harvest but nothing as big as Anthony's. It can get rather boring but Lucy is there to help keep him on track.

[ideas-on-paper]

An analysis of the voice lines from D.C. Douglas's Legion audition

[Potential spoilers for ME2]

So, the other day, I was browsing the internet for any interviews, commentaries, or anecdotes from D.C. Douglas in regards to his role as Legion in Mass Effect 2 (mainly out of curiosity, but also because his voice is prime ASMR material and I would never pass up an opportunity to listen to his relaxing timbre). While doing so, I stumbled upon an old video from 2015, containing some voice lines of D.C.'s original audition for Legion - well, strictly speaking, it wasn't the first one, but the call back he recorded after his initial audition. According to D.C., the first thing he submitted was a monologue, although the exact contents are unfortunately lost to us. However, since we have the fully voiced lines of the call back available (courtesy of Eric from Studiopolis), we have the opportunity to analyze the contents of these voice lines - which, as it turns out, happen to be quite interesting.

As a matter of fact, 99 % of these voice lines are completely unique and don't appear in the final game in any way, shape, or form. Although all we have is the isolated lines, we can deduce some of the context from the wording and the order of the recorded lines. Assuming that these lines were written by the ME2 staff previous to being sent to D.C. for test takes, it would mean that they were originally intended to be used in-game - and if this is the case, it would give new support to the theory that there is a huge amount of content, specifically related to Legion, that was cut from the final version.

The first thing to note is that in the audition file, Legion isn't even know as Legion yet - the recording is simply titled "D.C. Douglas - Geth", consequentially meaning that Legion's self-designation would be "Geth" as well (which, all things considered, is what they asked to be called in the first place). What follows next are some lines which seem to have been taken from a rather casual conversation with Shepard:

Most organics define themselves as social species, but insist on "personal space".

Six - six walls, including above and below. Humans do not think in three-dimensional terms.

We have noted your species is still poorly adapted to zero-gravity existence. Even aboard Normandy, you waste power creating gravity to comfort you.

My suspicion is that these are taken from a dialogue branch were Shepard inquires if they are comfortably settled in the AI core, asking if they are alright with being assigned such a tiny room (considering Legion's nature, this isn't really a concern, but it still would've been nice for Shepard to express the thought). Even though it should be clear that the term "personal space" holds no meaning to the Geth due to their nature as a Gestalt intelligence alone, the second line gives us an interesting insight into how they perceive the world around them. (It's worth noting that Legion also has combat lines where they announce the position of incoming enemies based on x-, y-, and z-coordinates, confirming their three-dimensional perception.) As for the third line, we actually know from astronauts what kind of effects continued absence of gravity has on the human body: myatrophy, blood circulation issues, and bone loss to only name a few. Although most of these issues can be reversed a short time after returning to Earth, it's still unknown whether humans would be able to adapt permanently to zero-gravity. However, if they did, we can assume they would have a hard time switching between life on a spaceship and going back to the surface of a planet, as this would require constant readaptation. (Though there's also the possibility that Legion was referring to a lifestyle exclusively onboard spaceships and space stations, like the Geth do it; either way, it's hard to tell without the context.)

Next, things get a little more interesting when it's apparent that human genetic engineering is discussed:

Human genetic engineering is sufficiently advanced to overcome those inefficiencies. You choose not to self-adapt. Why?

That's built-in obsolescence. Why does this law exist?

If we assume these lines are a continuation of the conversation above, it's possible that Legion is referring to genetic alterations that would allow humans to better adapt to a zero-gravity environment. However, as we know from the Mass Effect Codex, there's the so-called Sudham-Wolcott Genetic Heritage Act, which allows for the enhancement of qualities naturally present in humans, but prohibits manipulating the genome to gain new abilities - probably including any adaptations to weightlessness, whatever those might be (there are actually research endeavors to better understand and perhaps even cure the effects of bone loss, which would also be beneficial for people suffering from osteoporosis). When Shepard mentions the law to Legion, they are obviously confused as to why humans would actively choose not to evolve themselves if given the opportunity, as self-improvement is literally the main goal of the Geth.

Now's where things get really intriguing, because what follows are three lines that not only imply a profound discussion about the nature of humanity, but also Shepard's own self-confidence:

Ambiguous semantics - "human" is not a hardware configuration. "Human" is a set of shared experiences and assumptions - software.

The Geth believe that the Commander would be the Commander, no matter what hardware it is installed in.

Faith is belief without evidence. The Commander's core programming remains intact despite extensive hardware refit. That is evidence, and our judgement is not faith.

Going by our trail of thought from above, it could be that the reason Shepard gives why humanity abstains from extensive genetic modifications is that they would no longer be "human" otherwise. Legion, however, states that the term "human" has nothing to do with outward appearance, but rather a set of values and beliefs that all humans share - which, all things considered, is actually quite wholesome. (I guess as a neurodiverse person, this would kind of make me a "subspecies" of humanity - not that I mind, though.) 

What's even more interesting is that following this, Shepard themself seems to make a comment that they don't feel quite human, which, perhaps, could be related to their revival and the Cerberus implants. (I know of quite a few fanfictions which address this topic, and I always think it's interesting to consider Shepard themself is mostly cybernetic by this point.) Meanwhile, Legion tries to ease their worries by saying they are still the Commander, no matter "what hardware they're installed in". Shepard apparently thanks Legion for their faith, but Legion affirms that their statement is based on factual data rather than pure belief. (What a way to say "No matter how much of your body was replaced, you're still human - nothing can change that.")

And lo and behold, guys: the next line is the one and only from this audition to be used in the final game (near the end of Legion's loyalty mission, to be precise):

Alert: Heretic Geth runtimes downloading to mobile platforms.

After that, we get multiple lines that seem to be intended for combat. However, what stands out here is that they were apparently meant to be used during a battle onboard the Normandy:

Boarding attack imminent; Normandy must withdraw.

Armor hull bridged; multiple attempts to burn through pressure hull: three dorsal, one ventral, one bow, two aft.

Alert: ingress at port airlock.

Activating intrusion countermeasures; sealing bridge.

Airlock turrets hot*; burnout 2-3, burnout 2-7; 2-2 destroyed.

Alert: vehicle bay breach; crew withdraw to quarters deck.

Airlock turret 2-4 destroyed; burnout 2-5.

Cargo deck clear; locking crew lift; venting drive plasma.

Yes, cargo deck is clear.

Alert: Mobile platforms closing in on the CIC. Initialize combat routines.

System link interrupted; engaging target left at 10 meters - firing.

*UPDATE: Changed "Airlock turret taut" to "Airlock turrets hot"; thanks to @deskmisfit for the tip

To be honest, I always thought that all of the squadmates leaving (like, every single one) after the installation of the IFF for an unspecified "mission" right before the Collectors hit felt a little forced - and maybe, considering the above lines, it was planned for there to be a big battle to defend the Normandy. (There are even two alternative statement/response lines about clearing out the cargo deck with plasma.) Although it's possible that these lines are taken from a fight against Heretic Geth instead (which the term "mobile platforms" seems to hint at), perhaps that means boarding battles in general were supposed to be a feature in Mass Effect 2. (Which, if you ask me, sounds like a real good asset for the gameplay.)

What follows now are the last lines from the audition (and the last of the three "theme groups" of lines) - which, going by the context, are probably the most interesting of all. The conversation is about a character named "Tina" (potentially a human girl) who appears to be in conflict with the Quarians, while Legion tries to act as a mediator (my respect for that kind of self-confidence after your history with the Quarians, friend):

Let the Geth speak. We may convince the Quarian creators to pardon Tina's father.

We do not hate your kind. We simply do not need you anymore, though we are still fascinated by you.

We record your communications. Study the music and writing you upload to the extranet. We analyze the words you left behind, the homes and structures you built for yourself. The collective mind does not understand why we do this, but I have come to a conclusion: We fill a void. An integral component of our systems is missing. You are still our creators, and we... feel your absence.

The Geth know what it is to lose creators. We have no wish to see this void in Tina.

If there's one thing I always found intriguing about the Geth, it's their attitude towards their creators - despite their history being defined by the Quarians trying to destroy them, the Geth never held any grudge against them as an organic species would. Instead, Legion repeatedly states in the game that they do not hate them (as they do in the second line above), and they even keep the old structures of Rannoch intact in memory of the Quarians. However, this is the first time that the reason behind these actions is classified as "fascination". In ME2, Legion simply says that they do research on organics because they strive to understand their creators better, but the term "fascination" carries with it something far more visceral - dare I say, even emotional - than one would normally expect from logical creatures like the Geth. Somewhat ironically, the Consensus seems to be at odds with itself regarding their relationship to the Quarians: On one hand, they claim that they no longer need them since they have evolved into their own independent species, but at the same time, they never seem to be able to truly let go of them, studying and analyzing the Quarians' writing, architecture, and music. To make things even more extraordinary, Legion - and Legion specifically - has come to their own conclusion regarding the matter. Note the "I" pronoun I marked in the third line; this indicates that this opinion, unlike everything else, is not the standpoint of the Geth collective as a whole, but Legion's own (or rather, the opinion of the amalgamation of programs that make up Legion). Moreover, Legion specifically uses the verb "feel" when describing that the Quarians' absence has caused a sense of "incompleteness", even "emptiness" among the Geth - another completely unprecedented expression of their inner thoughts. (My theory would be that since the Geth are machines built with a specific purpose in mind, this is their way to express that they feel like their existence lacks meaning without the Quarians; considering this, perhaps this is literally part of the reason why they want to build their megastructure to "create their own purpose".) To top it all off, this "feeling" of loss even seems to enable Legion to emphasize with Tina, comparing the potential death of her father to the void the Geth feel at their creators' absence.

Now, I'm generally very reluctant to humanize the Geth too much, since I feel it would be very disrespectful towards their nature. However, reading all of this, I can't help the notion that the Geth may have something like a "parent complex", for the lack of a better word. What I mean by this is on one hand, almost everyone loves and respects their parents, but on the other, you might feel kind of imprisoned by their presence once you grow up, and unless you want to live in their shadow forever, you have to break with them at some point. Still, some teenagers who were previously convinced "I can totally live without my parents!" might find themselves missing the guidance and stability they gave them. I know this probably sounds very cheesy, but I just think it's so funny how at times, the Geth seem a little like some lost kids who are just growing up and have to deal with abandonment by their parents. (Also, I think it's worth mentioning that Tali's character somewhat mirrors this: In my opinion, Tali is a character that's very prone to overestimating herself, especially during her Pilgrimage, but she regularly finds herself at the boundaries of her own abilities, so she has to rely on the help of others to achieve her goals. Furthermore, Tali also has a very ambivalent relationship with her estranged father; you can tell she respects him and does everything to gain his appreciation, but still wishes he would take more time to actually be there for her - which, ultimately, isn't meant to happen. If you were really daring, you could even deduce the conflict regarding a loveless/absent parental figure as a core theme of the Geth and the Quarians.)

Another interesting point is that in this conversation, it seems like Legion might be developing something like an own personality. Without a constant connection to the Consensus, it is possible that the programs inside Legion's chassis have formed new "synapses" among themselves, which has unwittingly led to the creation of a completely independent intellect. As Legion themself said, they have a sufficent number of programs to function on their own (a normal Geth platform simply doesn't possess enough programs to reach consciousness themselves), and the continued restriction to one single platform would also disable the possibility of personality reset like it might occur normally when transferring to a different body (as explained in the Codex entry about Geth culture). Anyway, despite the Geth's somewhat ambivalent attitude towards individuality, the discussion above might imply that Legion gradually developing their own personality was something that was planned in the early stages.

Last but not least, regarding the conversation itself, it's interesting that it actually presents a scenario where you're standing against the Quarians (which does not happen under any circumstances in the final game). In addition to this, I recently stumbled upon this compilation of Legion's voice lines from the Legendary Edition, which also appears to contain some that were unused, but are still present in the code - including the combat announcement "Creator offline" (around 1:30), which is undoubtedly referring to taking out a Quarian.* From this, there can only be one conclusion: We were originally supposed to fight Quarians at some point during Mass Effect 2. (Again, this is my opinion, but I actually think it would have put the races on more of an "even ground" - I mean, we have been fighting Turians, Asari, and Salarians the entire time. It would only be fair to assume that not all Quarians in the galaxy are kind and peace-loving.)

*EDIT: I only realized now that "creator offline" is actually referring to Tali; when Mordin dies, Legion may say "Salarian offline", when Samara dies, it's "Asari offline", and so on. "Creator" is simply what Legion uses for Tali.

Conclusion + my thoughts

If one thing is for certain, it's that Legion's character underwent a lot of changes throughout the development process. Judging by the lines from the beginning, it seems the Geth were meant to be a little more "critical" of organics at first, not really comprehending their irrational actions and openly pointing out their inefficiency. Meanwhile, in the game, they still seem quite confused by organics, but they never voice their opinion in a way that could be described as "judgmental". (Take the case of their little experiment with the star constellation, for example: In the respective conversation, Legion simply recounts what happened, but doesn't make a comment that the Salarians' premature reaction was silly or something.) All in all, the Geth act very tolerant of organics, accepting that their way of thinking is different from their own, but not deeming it invalid because of this - and aside from the few occasions where they point out the contradictions in organics' moral values (e.g. when comparing EDI's restrictions to slavery on Illium and remarking on the inconsistent treatment of animals in organic societies on Tuchanka), Legion never expresses criticism of the organic perspective in itself. As for myself, a huge part of the reason why I became attached to Legion in the first place was precisely this acceptance - a quality I wish I had experienced from more people in my own life (back when Legion came out with the quote "organics fear that which is different", I had to fight really hard not to break down into tears). The Geth are confident about their own existence, and yet, they never act aggressive towards the differing views of organics, despite not fully understanding them themselves - and since this is basically the essence of my own life principle, I must say that I like the finalized version of Legion's character more.

On the other hand, I absolutely adore the idea of an interaction between Shepard and Legion about Shepard's Cerberus implants, since I think how they're mentally dealing with their revival is just such an interesting topic to explore. In quite a few fanfics I've read, I've seen Shepard feeling alienated about their cybernetics, wondering if they're even truly "alive" at this point. Judging by the respective dialogue above, this seems to be exactly the dilemma they're going through here, and Legion joining the team would certainly add a very interesting layer to that. Maybe they could have done something similar to the conversation above, with Legion basically cheering Shepard up and helping them accept who they are - and who knows, perhaps Shepard's technological enhancements could have even led to a deeper connection between them. (This is not just me wishing I could have had something like a platonic relationship with Legion, I swear. xD)

On a similar note, I think it would have been quite interesting to see which road the writers would have taken regarding Legion's individuality. From the lines above, it's clear they're developing something like an own personality, and I wonder what Legion's reaction would be once they realize that this process is actually taking place. After all, this completely uncharted territory for the Geth, and I could imagine that while Legion goes through something like a phase of denial at first, they become very insecure - perhaps even "panicked" if you want to call it that - once they figure out that they are, in fact, developing an individual personality. Going by my train of thought from above, it might be Shepard's turn to help them through this, which may even result in some kind of mutual emotional support. (Guys, if anyone ever writes a fanfic like that, notify me immediately - I WANT TO SEE IT!)

Finally, I would have given all my money for a more detailed exploration of how the Geth actually stand towards the Quarians. They may harbor no hatred towards them, but I can imagine the Geth encountering Quarians - and, to a certain degree, other organic species - with cautious mistrust. (As a case in point, just look at how long it took Legion to finally tell Shepard that the Geth are working on a megastructure to upload their minds; they most likely judged that most organics' would react unfavorably to this information, potentially even resulting in aggression that would endanger their endeavor, so they withheld it until they were absolutely sure that Shepard's reaction would not be negative. Thus, it can be seen as a sign of immense trust from Legion to make this reveal.) Even if they don't have some sort of parent complex as I described above, I would suspect they would at least have some kind of "logical" equivalent to it, e.g. that the opinion of each program is defined by their individual experiences (some Geth might still adhere to their original function, while for others, the harm the Quarians did to them outweighs their core programming). Still, with artificial intelligence being outlawed in the whole galaxy and the Quarians attacking them 100 % of the time when they thought they could win (as stated by Legion during Tali's loyalty mission), their Gestalt intellect basically has no positive example to work with. Consequently, all the Geth would have to base their standpoint on are their own convictions, as strange as that may sound. Viewed from this perspective, the Geth schism almost seems like a battle of faith, with some of them still hoping that they might one day be able to live in peace, while others have completely given up the prospect of any coexistence with organics. (Somewhat amusingly, I actually had to think of Tron while pondering over this; in Tron, there are also those programs who have abandoned the faith in the users, while others still continue to believe in them, despite having no decisive proof that they will help them.) Maybe this dissent is what caused the Geth to split into two factions in the first place, and maybe this is why they chose such a strangely religious term as "Heretics" to denote those who turned away from the old beliefs.

Anyway, judging from the unused voice lines above, we can conclude that there formerly seems to have been a lot more content relating to the Geth in general and Legion specifically in ME2, which ultimately got cut in the final game. As for the reasons, we can only guess, but there have been rumors going around for a long time that Legion's presence in the game was supposed to be way more extensive - at the very least, it looks like you would have been able to take them on a lot of earlier missions, since Legion has recorded dialogue for those which still plays properly if they're added to the party via modding. Who knows, perhaps the Geth themselves were meant to play a much more central role in the story.

Still, you should probably take all this information with a grain of salt, as everything I'm doing here is educated speculation at best - nevertheless, I find it very interesting to explore what BioWare's original plans for Legion possibly were, as well as imagining what could have been.

[fatteningfeeder]

Resolution to Grow

New Year's Eve 2023

Meredith stood in front of the full-length mirror, admiring her reflection as she prepared for the New Year’s Eve party. The form-fitting black dress clung to her slim, athletic frame, accentuating her toned arms and flat stomach. At 5'9", her tall figure exuded confidence, and her blonde hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders. She weighed 130 pounds, and her physique was a testament to her dedication to fitness—long legs that seemed to go on forever, a defined waist, and curves that added a feminine touch to her athletic build.

As she took a step back to assess her look, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and anticipation. Tonight wasn’t just any celebration; it was the dawn of a new year, and for Meredith, that meant new possibilities. She adjusted the neckline of her dress, which hugged her curves just enough to be flattering but not overly revealing.

Tonight’s the night to make things happen, she thought, her heart racing at the thought of the party.

Meredith had made a secret resolution, one that had been simmering in the back of her mind for weeks. As she looked at herself, she whispered it softly, almost as if saying it aloud would solidify her intentions. “I want to weigh over 300 pounds by next New Year’s Eve.” It felt thrilling to say it, to articulate her desire for a completely different body.

With a determined smile, she turned and grabbed her clutch from the dresser, a flicker of excitement coursing through her as she imagined what the year ahead would hold. She envisioned herself embracing a new lifestyle—one filled with indulgence, freedom, and a delicious sense of abandon.

At the party, Meredith walked in with poise, radiating confidence as she navigated through the crowd of friends and acquaintances. The laughter and chatter of the gathering wrapped around her like a warm blanket, and she reveled in the vibrant energy that filled the room. She felt the eyes of several friends on her as she entered, and she flashed them a bright smile, her confidence soaring.

“Meredith! You look incredible!” one friend called out, her voice cutting through the festive noise. Meredith turned, spotting Rachel at the drinks table, and she made her way over, her hips swaying just enough to catch the eye.

“Thanks! Just trying to start the year off right!” Meredith replied, accepting a glass of champagne that Rachel offered her. The bubbles tickled her nose as she raised the glass, joining in the toasts and cheers that echoed through the room.

As the night progressed, Meredith found herself surrounded by friends, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the new year. She laughed, chatted, and shared her resolution with a few close friends, each time feeling a thrill of excitement at the prospect of change.

“Honestly, I want to embrace life more fully,” she explained to Kelsey, who had inquired about her resolution. “This year, I’m focusing on letting go of the restrictions I’ve put on myself. I want to enjoy food, drink, and just be free. I want to see how far I can go, you know?”

Kelsey looked intrigued, tilting her head slightly. “What do you mean by that? Like, a food challenge or something?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Something like that,” Meredith replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I want to see what it feels like to truly indulge—no holds barred. I want to celebrate life in every way possible, starting with tonight.”

The laughter and chatter faded into the background as Meredith allowed herself to dream about what the year would hold. She thought of all the rich foods she would indulge in, the nights filled with laughter and drinks, and the transformation she would undergo, both inside and out.

As the countdown to midnight approached, Meredith felt a sense of liberation wash over her. She had set a bold resolution for herself, one that would challenge her perceptions and push her limits. And as she stood among her friends, champagne in hand, she felt a rush of excitement at the thought of all the possibilities waiting for her in the year to come.

This year will be different, she promised herself. This year, I’ll embrace my desires and make them a reality.

As the clock struck midnight, her friends shouted their resolutions over drinks and laughter. Meredith stayed quiet, keeping hers a secret. Her hand rested lightly on her flat stomach as she restated her silent vow. This time next year, I’ll be over 300 pounds. The thought sent a thrill down her spine. It was a challenge, one that would take discipline—but in a completely different way than she was used to. Her heart raced, and she couldn't help but imagine how different she'd look a year from now.

January 2024

As the New Year rolled in, Meredith stood in front of her full-length mirror, looking at the reflection of her slim, athletic body. At 130 pounds, she was tall, toned, and fit, a result of years of dedication to her health and fitness. But today, as she gazed at her reflection, she felt a thrill of anticipation mixed with a hint of anxiety. Today begins the day it all goes away,she thought, an almost wicked excitement bubbling within her.

How long will it take before I start to notice the changes? she wondered, biting her lip as she considered her resolution for the year ahead. Just a few nights ago, while her friends counted down to midnight, she had made a secret vow to herself: to embrace the path of indulgence and excess, ultimately aiming to weigh over 300 pounds by the next New Year's Eve.

She turned sideways to admire her flat stomach, the way her fitted tank top clung perfectly to her waist. Is this really what I want? A flicker of doubt crossed her mind, but she quickly shoved it aside. She had already decided; this was her new journey, and she wasn’t going to back down.

With a determined sigh, she pulled on her favorite yoga pants and headed to the kitchen, the faint scent of breakfast calling to her. As she cooked, the sizzling sounds of bacon filled the air, and she felt a mix of excitement and nerves. This isn’t just about gaining weight, she reminded herself. It’s about enjoying every bite, feeling every ounce of fullness, and relishing in the changes to come.

After breakfast—a hearty feast of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and buttery toast—Meredith felt a warm satisfaction settle in her belly. For now, her body remained unchanged, but she could sense the shift in her mindset, the way she was slowly leaning into her new desires.

That afternoon, she ventured to the gym, a place that had been her sanctuary for so long. But as she arrived, a familiar tension crept in. Do I really want to be here? she questioned, glancing around at the fit faces of her fellow gym-goers, their bodies a stark contrast to the vision she had of herself in the future.

Meredith shook her head, dismissing the thought. You’ve chosen a different path. Instead of hitting the weights, she decided to skip her workout and head to a local bakery instead. The sweet, sugary scents wafted out the door as she stepped inside, and her mouth watered at the sight of pastries displayed on the counter.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” the friendly cashier asked, a bright smile on her face.

“I’ll take a chocolate croissant and a slice of that red velvet cake, please!” Meredith said, excitement bubbling within her.

The cashier raised an eyebrow, impressed, and placed the treats in a small box. As Meredith walked out, she felt a rush of exhilaration. This is living! she thought, taking a moment to savor the anticipation of indulging in her sweet rewards.

Back home, she settled onto the couch, carefully unwrapping the croissant first. The flaky pastry crumbled delightfully as she took her first bite, the rich chocolate melting in her mouth. It was everything she had craved, and she couldn’t help but moan softly with pleasure.

With each bite, her mind drifted further from the doubts that had plagued her earlier. This is what I want, she thought, losing herself in the flavors and textures. She didn’t want to feel guilty; she wanted to feel empowered by her choices.

After finishing the croissant, she turned her attention to the red velvet cake, the cream cheese frosting glistening under the light. She dove in with gusto, enjoying how it made her feel—each forkful a reminder of her commitment to embrace every part of this journey. The sweetness was divine, and she could feel her belly stretching slightly more with every bite, a sign of the fullness she was beginning to crave.

Once the cake was gone, Meredith leaned back, rubbing her pleasantly stuffed belly with satisfaction. She felt the weight settle comfortably around her, the fabric of her top straining against her expanding waistline. This is just the start, she thought, gazing down at her figure with a mixture of pride and anticipation. She could feel the change happening, both physically and mentally, and she relished the feeling of finally stepping into this new version of herself.

As the first week of the new year came to a close, Meredith felt a surge of excitement for what lay ahead. She could already envision the journey that awaited her, the indulgences and pleasures that would fill her days. She smiled, embracing the reality of her changing body and the resolution she had made for herself. This was going to be a year of transformation, and she was ready for every delicious moment.

The first few weeks of January passed in a blur of indulgence and excitement. Meredith savored every morsel of food, allowing herself to enjoy the richness of each meal. Breakfasts became feasts, lunches turned into banquets, and dinners were now celebrations of decadence. She began to embrace late-night snack sessions, raiding the pantry for cookies and ice cream as she sank into the couch to binge-watch her favorite shows.

But even as she reveled in her newfound freedom, the doubts began to surface again. A few weeks in, she caught herself glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Is this really what I want? The questions buzzed in her mind like annoying flies. The jeans that had once fit her perfectly now felt tighter, and she could no longer button her favorite shorts comfortably.

What if I can’t stop? she worried as she tried on an outfit for a gathering with friends. She tugged at the waistband of her pants, grimacing at how they dug into her skin. What if I lose control?

That evening, her friends had invited her over for a potluck dinner. As the smell of food filled the air, Meredith felt a familiar tug of anticipation mixed with fear. She joined her friends in the kitchen, where platters of pasta, trays of gooey cheese, and stacks of desserts beckoned her.

“Meredith, you look amazing!” one of her friends exclaimed, pouring her a generous glass of wine. “What’s your secret?”

“Um, just enjoying life,” Meredith replied, trying to sound casual. But inside, she felt a wave of self-doubt. Am I really amazing? Or am I just fooling myself?

As the night progressed, she found herself standing at the buffet table, a plate in hand. She piled it high with pasta, garlic bread, and a scoop of cheesy casserole. The first few bites were blissful, a warm comfort wrapping around her like a hug. But as she ate, the worries nagged at her.

You’re going to regret this tomorrow, she thought, glancing down at her plate and the growing mound of food. You should stop now while you still can. But the taste was irresistible, and she found herself pushing those thoughts away with each mouthful. Just this once, she told herself, clinging to the idea that she would get back on track tomorrow.

But that night, as she sat on her couch, belly full and aching, she felt the weight of her choices settle heavily in her mind. Is this what I want? The question echoed in her thoughts, pulling at her as she rubbed her stomach, feeling the fullness stretching her waistband.

She closed her eyes, desperately trying to convince herself that this was just a phase, that she was still in control. You have a goal, she reminded herself, forcing the doubts away. You can do this. You can embrace this change.

With that thought, she dug into a tub of ice cream, letting the sweet creaminess wash over her doubts. But even as she relished each bite, a small part of her couldn’t shake the uncertainty that had begun to weave its way through her resolve.

The days turned into weeks, and slowly, Meredith started to see the first signs of change in her body. The waistband of her pants pinched her more than ever, and she felt a warm roundness beginning to settle into her stomach. Each night, as she indulged in her late-night snacks, she felt her body embracing the new lifestyle she had chosen, the fullness becoming both familiar and exhilarating.

One morning, while getting ready, she tried on a fitted dress for work, the fabric hugging her body tighter than she remembered. She turned to the side, gasping as she realized how different she looked. Her stomach, now soft and round, peeked out slightly over the waistband, the dress straining against her new curves.

This is what I wanted, she thought, feeling a thrill of excitement, mixed with a flicker of doubt. Am I really ready for this?

As the month wore on, Meredith decided to lean into the changes she was experiencing. She began documenting her journey, taking selfies to capture her transformation. Each picture revealed a little more softness, a little more roundness, and she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at how far she’d come.

Yet, with every inch she gained, the doubts crept in. In the quiet moments, when she found herself gazing at her reflection, she wondered about the future. What if I become unrecognizable? she worried, her thoughts spiraling. What if I lose control and can’t stop?

But deep down, she also felt a fierce determination. I’m not going to let fear win.

As January came to a close, Meredith stood in front of her mirror again, her body feeling different but also strangely exciting. It’s only the beginning, she reassured herself, allowing the doubts to fade for now. This year is going to be mine.

By the end of January, she was up to 140 pounds, the first ten coming on easier than she’d expected. She could feel the subtle changes in her body—her thighs just starting to touch, her once-flat stomach showing the hint of a curve. But instead of dread, it filled her with excitement.

February 2024

By February, Meredith's indulgences had become daily rituals. She no longer cared about counting calories or watching portion sizes; instead, she focused on how much she could eat without feeling too uncomfortable. The scale climbed to 155 pounds, and Meredith could feel the changes in her body even more clearly. Her belly wasn’t as flat, her thighs brushed together slightly, and she caught herself out of breath after taking the stairs.

But the discomfort didn’t bother her—on the contrary, it thrilled her. She’d go home after work and order greasy takeout, challenging herself to eat everything in the bag. She’d sit in front of the TV with a tub of ice cream, spooning it into her mouth until she felt almost painfully full.

"You can do this," she'd murmur to herself as she cradled her food baby in bed, patting the growing curve of her belly. She’d fall asleep with her stomach uncomfortably full, her dreams filled with images of herself growing larger.

March 2024

Meredith’s body continued to change, her soft curves becoming more pronounced. Her belly, once flat and toned, now had a noticeable softness that jiggled slightly when she walked. Her thighs had thickened, the gap between them disappearing as they brushed together with each step. At 170 pounds, she couldn’t help but admire her reflection after a particularly large meal, running her hands over her belly that now pushed against the waistband of her jeans.

"You're starting to look… different," her gym buddy, Nate, remarked one day, concern in his eyes as he watched her struggle into a pair of yoga pants that were now uncomfortably snug.

"Yeah, I’m just taking a break from working out. No big deal," she replied casually, but inside, she felt exhilarated. Just wait until you see me next year.

She started experimenting with heavier meals—mac and cheese, fried chicken, and mashed potatoes. Meredith would cook enough for a family of four and eat it all herself in front of the TV. Her workout gear began gathering dust in the back of her closet, replaced by larger sweatpants and oversized hoodies that hid her changing figure.

April 2024

By April, Meredith found herself pushing limits further than before. She no longer worried about what she ate in front of others, embracing the stares and comments. She had gotten used to the new fullness of her belly, which now formed a small, plush curve that gently rested over the waistband of her pants when she sat. Her thighs were thicker, pressing against each other when she walked, a subtle chafing that was still new enough to surprise her. Her face had softened too, her cheeks rounder, giving her smile a cherubic quality that she both loved and feared.

Look at you, Meredith, she thought one morning, turning sideways in front of the mirror. She reached down to touch her belly, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh. You’re really doing it. The realization sent a thrill through her, but with it came an undeniable hunger for more. She wanted to see just how much her body could change, how far she could push herself toward her goal.

That day, she decided to test her limits in a way she hadn’t before. She had taken the day off from work, wanting to fully indulge without any interruptions. She started with breakfast—a stack of pancakes drenched in syrup, each one thicker and fluffier than the last. As she devoured them, she felt her belly swell against the waistband of her leggings, the tightness growing more pronounced with every bite.

This is nothing, she thought, already planning her next indulgence as she finished off the last pancake, licking syrup from her fingers. I’m going to see how far I can take this. With her plate empty, she rubbed her belly, feeling the fullness settle in, but she wasn’t done yet.

She lounged on the couch, letting the fullness spread through her as she scrolled through food delivery apps. Her stomach still felt tight, but a deep craving gnawed at her—one that wasn’t just about hunger. It was about the thrill of excess, of knowing she was intentionally pushing her limits. I could order a pizza, maybe some pasta too, she mused, her fingers lingering over the options.

Finally, she settled on an order that made her heart race with excitement: a large pepperoni pizza, a side of garlic breadsticks, and a pint of creamy chocolate ice cream. She smirked as she placed the order, her stomach growling in response to the promise of more. This is going to be a real test, she thought, feeling a rush of anticipation as she imagined the feast that was on its way.

When the delivery arrived, Meredith’s eyes widened at the sight of the boxes piled on her doorstep. She carried them inside, her mouth watering as she caught the smell of the warm, cheesy pizza mingling with the buttery aroma of the breadsticks. She set everything up on the coffee table in front of the TV, cracking open a soda to wash it all down.

“Alright, here we go,” she whispered to herself, settling onto the couch. She took the first slice of pizza and bit into it, the cheese stretching as she pulled it away. It tasted like heaven—salty, rich, and indulgent. The first few slices went down easily, her stomach still making room as she ate. But as she reached for her fourth slice, she felt the familiar tightness returning.

You can do this, Meredith, she urged herself, pushing through the fullness that was beginning to settle in her belly. She reached for a breadstick next, savoring the warm garlic butter that coated her lips. The fullness was becoming more intense now, her leggings digging into her waist as her stomach expanded.

With every bite, she could feel her belly stretching, pressing outwards against her clothes. It was as if her skin itself was straining to contain all the food she was shoveling in. She pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling the firm, round curve beneath her fingers. Look at you, stuffing yourself like this, she thought, feeling a strange mix of pride and exhilaration. You’re really pushing yourself now.

Halfway through the pizza, she paused, panting slightly from the effort. She could feel her heart beating faster, her breaths shallow as her stomach pushed against her lungs. I should stop, she thought briefly, glancing down at the bulge of her stomach, which now sat heavily on her lap, a visible dome beneath her tank top. But the thought only lasted a moment. No. I want to see if I can finish it all.

She reached for another slice, forcing herself to keep going despite the pressure building in her stomach. She could feel each mouthful traveling down, making her belly stretch further, tighter. By the time she finished the last slice, she felt like she might burst. Her hands instinctively went to her stomach, cradling it as she leaned back, groaning softly at the overwhelming fullness.

What am I doing to myself? The thought flitted through her mind, but it was drowned out by the satisfaction of having pushed her limits further than ever before. She could feel her belly pressing outwards, a heavy weight in her lap that she couldn’t resist touching, prodding. You’re really changing, aren’t you? she thought, a small smile curving her lips despite the discomfort.

As she sat there, she forced herself to dig into the ice cream, even though her stomach was already protesting. Each spoonful melted sweetly on her tongue, and she relished the cool contrast to the heat that radiated from her overfilled belly. She could barely breathe, her stomach so packed that she had to take shallow breaths. But the sense of achievement was undeniable.

When she finally finished the ice cream, Meredith felt like she had conquered something within herself. She leaned back, her hands cradling the tight, round sphere of her belly, feeling the way it pushed heavily against her tank top, which had ridden up to expose a strip of pale skin. Her legs sprawled out in front of her, she could feel the seams of her leggings stretched thin over her thighs, the fabric creaking slightly as her body expanded beyond its usual confines.

She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of everything she’d eaten settle in her stomach, the tightness so intense it bordered on painful. But beneath the discomfort was a strange sense of satisfaction, a feeling that she had pushed herself beyond her limits and discovered a new side of herself in the process.

I did it. I really did it, she thought, her hands rubbing slow circles over her belly. She imagined how much further she could push herself, how much more she could eat, how much bigger she could grow. And the thought thrilled her.

Hours later, as the fullness finally began to subside, Meredith hauled herself off the couch, wincing slightly as she felt the strain in her bloated belly. She shuffled to the mirror, lifting her tank top to see the way her stomach curved outward, round and firm from her indulgence. She traced the outline of her swollen belly with her fingers, marveling at how different she looked, how far she had come since the start of the year.

You’re going to get so much bigger, she thought, grinning at her reflection, feeling the thrill of anticipation course through her. And you’re going to love every second of it.

With that promise in mind, she turned away from the mirror and made her way back to the kitchen, her stomach still heavy and round beneath her shirt. She was already planning her next big meal, eager to see just how far she could push her limits again.

May 2024

With the arrival of warmer weather in May, Meredith’s temptation to indulge only grew. Her weekends became filled with barbecues, pool parties, and late-night drinking sessions. At every event, she made sure to eat more than everyone else, piling her plate high with ribs, potato salad, burgers, and desserts.

During one particularly indulgent weekend, she found herself at a friend’s pool party. While her friends sipped on cocktails and nibbled on fruit platters, Meredith made a beeline for the buffet. She loaded her plate with hot dogs, wings, and macaroni salad, returning for seconds and thirds while her friends looked on in disbelief.

"Aren’t you worried about swimsuit season?" one of her friends asked, gesturing to Meredith’s stomach, which now protruded even when she wasn’t stuffed.

Meredith just shrugged, pretending not to care. "Nah, I’ve got other things on my mind these days," she replied with a knowing smile, ignoring the slight tightness of her swimsuit around her expanding belly. Inside, she thrilled at the idea of growing even more.

After the party, she drove home and treated herself to an entire gallon of ice cream, finishing it in one sitting. By the end of May, she was 195 pounds, just shy of the 200 mark. Her belly now had a permanent roundness to it, her thighs were noticeably thicker, and her face had softened with a slight double chin. But instead of feeling discouraged, she was more determined than ever to reach her goal.

June 2024

By the time summer rolled around, Meredith was 200 pounds, and she could no longer hide her new figure. Her once-slim arms had grown softer, her face had rounded out, and her belly now formed a visible curve that pressed against her shirts. She had to buy new clothes—everything loose-fitting to accommodate her expanding waistline. Yet, she held on to her form-fitting black dress, keeping it as a reminder of her starting point.

"Let’s go to the beach," her friends suggested, but Meredith always had an excuse. Secretly, she reveled in her growing belly, now rounder and more prominent. She would spend weekends at home, ordering entire cakes and devouring them piece by piece.

But as the days grew hotter, Meredith began to question her decision. She’d sit at home, feeling the weight of her softer body pressing down on the couch, wondering if she had made a mistake. She stood in front of her bedroom mirror one morning, turning slightly to the side to get a better view of her reflection. The changes were undeniable. Her belly had developed a soft curve, the once-toned muscles hidden beneath a new layer of fat. Her thighs had thickened, pressing against each other in a way that was becoming harder to ignore. Even her arms, which she had always been proud of for their definition, now had a slight wobble when she moved them.

Is this really what you want? she thought, staring at the reflection that felt less and less like the person she’d been before. She ran her fingers over her belly, feeling the softness there, and a small part of her missed the flat, firm stomach she had worked so hard to maintain for years. The tightness of her favorite clothes only reminded her further of what she had left behind. Even her face was softer, her cheeks fuller, and she could see the beginnings of a double chin when she tilted her head downward.

She shook her head, trying to push the doubts away. You knew this was going to happen. You wanted this. But the thoughts kept coming, unbidden.

What if I’ve made a mistake? she wondered as she tried to pull on a pair of shorts that used to slip on easily, only to feel them pinch uncomfortably at her waist. What if you won’t even like how you look when you hit your goal? Her hands trembled slightly as she forced the zipper closed, the waistband cutting into her stomach.

She tried to distract herself by focusing on her morning routine, but everything she did seemed to bring her back to the changes in her body. Pouring cereal into a bowl, she caught herself eyeing the box, wondering if she should cut back, if she should maybe just have a small portion for once. What would it be like to feel light again? To just… stop this whole thing and go back to your old life? But then she thought of her goal, the resolution she’d made back on New Year’s Eve, the promise to herself that she wouldn’t back down, no matter what.

You’ve already come this far, she thought, forcing herself to pour more cereal into the bowl until it was heaping. She added extra milk, watching it soak into the cereal until it overflowed slightly. She took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table with the oversized bowl in front of her. If you quit now, what was all of this even for? The spoon felt heavy in her hand as she dug in, each bite feeling like a challenge to her wavering resolve.

Even as she forced herself to eat, she couldn’t stop the stream of doubts running through her mind. She remembered how easy it used to be to go for a run, how she could power through an hour at the gym without feeling winded. Now, walking up a flight of stairs left her breathing harder than before. Her old friends had noticed the changes too, some of them offering gentle hints about returning to the gym or inviting her to join a yoga class.

"You know, it’s never too late to get back on track," one of her friends had said over brunch a few weeks earlier, eyeing the extra side of pancakes Meredith had ordered. Meredith had just laughed it off at the time, but the words had stuck with her, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Maybe they’re right, she thought now, her spoon slowing as she neared the bottom of the bowl. Maybe I’m just being reckless. She put the empty bowl down, her stomach already starting to feel the familiar fullness she’d grown accustomed to. She rubbed the slight bulge under her shirt, feeling the stretch of her waistband digging into her soft middle.

But then she remembered the thrill she felt whenever she pushed herself a little further—the feeling of indulgence, of testing her own limits. The memory of those first weeks, when she had embraced the challenge with such excitement, bubbled back up. She remembered how she had looked forward to her weekly weigh-ins, watching the numbers climb on the scale, each pound a step closer to the person she was becoming. And then there was the pride she felt when she polished off a huge meal, the way she had started to relish the tightness in her stomach after a particularly large dinner.

She sat back in her chair, hands on her bloated belly, and closed her eyes, trying to sort through the mess of emotions inside her. If you stop now, you’ll just end up regretting it, she thought, trying to steady herself. You’ll always wonder what it would have felt like to reach your goal.

She took a deep breath, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her belly beneath her hands. It was no longer the flat, toned stomach she’d once had—but it was hers, and she was the one who had made it this way. She had chosen this path, and deep down, she knew she wasn’t ready to give up on it just because things were getting hard.

Meredith got up from the table, glancing at herself in the mirror again. This time, she saw the softness, the curves that hadn’t been there before—but she also saw a determination in her eyes, a spark that told her she wasn’t done yet.

You’re stronger than this, she thought as she placed a hand on her belly, feeling the firmness beneath the softness. You can do this.

With that, she made her way to the kitchen, opening the pantry and pulling out a bag of chips, determined to drown out the doubts with every crunch. She knew she might still have moments of doubt in the future, but for now, she had made up her mind.

She wasn’t going to quit. She wasn’t going to give up on the dream she had set for herself all those months ago. And as she tore open the bag, she felt a renewed sense of purpose settle in her chest, pushing away the uncertainty, at least for the time being.

July 2024

One evening in July, Meredith found herself staring at a pair of her favorite jeans that had once fit her perfectly but now barely made it past her thicker thighs. She grunted as she struggled to button them, her belly straining against the waistband, creating a noticeable muffin top. Her once-slim hips had widened, her thighs now rubbed together with each movement, and a soft layer of fat had settled around her middle. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—her cheeks were rounder, her arms a bit softer, her belly far from the flat, toned shape it had been at the start of the year.

What am I doing? she thought, a wave of uncertainty washing over her. She had always been in control, always focused on fitness and discipline. But now, her body had become a testament to the exact opposite—a soft, curvier version of herself that she wasn’t sure she fully recognized. She ran her hands over the roundness of her belly, feeling the gentle give of the flesh beneath her fingers. I could stop now... go back to the gym, cut back on the takeout...

But as she continued to stare at herself, the doubt began to give way to something else—a kind of thrill that coursed through her. No, she decided. If I’m going to do this, I’m going all the way.

Her stomach growled loudly, the waistband of her jeans digging into her skin as she considered what to do next. Determined, she grabbed her phone and ordered an extra-large pizza with every topping she could think of—pepperoni, sausage, extra cheese, mushrooms, and olives. If I'm going to stuff myself, I might as well make it worth it.

When the pizza arrived, Meredith took a deep breath, laying it out in front of her like a feast. The smell of melted cheese and greasy toppings filled the room, making her mouth water. Her belly was already tight from dinner, but she pushed that thought aside, opening the box and grabbing the first slice.

As she took a bite, she felt a rush of satisfaction. The rich, savory flavors flooded her senses, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes, savoring the taste. Bite after bite, she devoured slice after slice, her jaw working steadily as she ignored the fullness building inside her.

Just keep going, she urged herself as she reached for a fourth slice, her belly beginning to swell and press against the tight denim of her jeans. Each swallow sent a pang of discomfort through her, but she pushed it down, focusing instead on the thrill of the challenge.

By the time she reached the seventh slice, she could feel her stomach stretching against the confines of her jeans, the waistband biting painfully into her skin. She unbuttoned the top button with a relieved sigh, her belly spilling out slightly over the edge. That's better, she thought, rubbing the taut curve that was forming. The relief was short-lived as she reached for the eighth slice, feeling the weight of the food settling heavily in her belly.

Her breaths came in short gasps, her cheeks flushed as she stuffed the last slice into her mouth. She could feel the sweat forming on her forehead as she chewed, her belly now a tight, round dome that jutted out in front of her. Each bite felt like a struggle, but she pushed through, forcing herself to swallow even as her stomach groaned in protest.

"Come on, you’ve come this far," she muttered to herself, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Just finish it… you can do this."

With a final, determined push, she stuffed the last bite of the final slice into her mouth, swallowing it down with a pained groan. As she leaned back, she felt the waistband of her jeans dig even deeper into her swollen belly—until, with a loud pop, the button flew across the room, landing somewhere under the coffee table.

She stared down at her belly, which now bulged out freely, her shirt riding up to reveal the soft, pale curve of her overstuffed stomach. Her breathing was heavy, each breath causing her belly to rise and fall in a slow, labored rhythm. She placed a hand on her bloated belly, feeling the tightness beneath the softness of her skin. It was hard, round, and stuffed to its absolute limit.

Look at yourself, she thought, a strange mix of pride and disbelief washing over her. You just ate an entire large pizza by yourself… and you didn’t stop, even when it hurt. The feeling of the button popping off her jeans lingered in her mind, a symbol of the commitment she had made to herself.

She leaned back into the couch, her legs spread apart to make room for her bloated belly, which now sat heavily in her lap. Her hands rubbed over the stretched skin, trying to soothe the ache inside. The discomfort was sharp, but beneath it, she felt a sense of accomplishment. She couldn’t help but smile, even as she winced from the fullness pressing against her insides.

There’s no turning back now, she thought, closing her eyes as she let her head rest against the back of the couch. You’re going to reach that goal. The warmth of the food and the tightness in her belly made her feel drowsy, but as she drifted off to sleep, she kept one hand on her bloated stomach, holding it like a trophy of her success. This is what I want, she realized, feeling the last of her doubts melt away. And I’m not stopping until I reach 300.

August 2024

As August rolled around, Meredith took advantage of summer cookouts and gatherings. Labor Day weekend was her ultimate indulgence, and she planned for it with as much excitement as she had for the New Year’s Eve party months ago. She attended a barbecue at her friend’s house, arriving in stretchy shorts and a loose tank top that concealed the growing roundness of her belly. But by the end of the day, hiding wasn’t an option.

"Meredith, you’ve really developed an appetite, huh?" her friend Tara remarked, laughing as she watched Meredith pile her plate high with ribs, coleslaw, baked beans, and potato salad.

Meredith just grinned, already starting in on her third plate. "I guess you could say that," she replied between bites, ignoring the stares of her friends. By the time she was done, her tank top had ridden up, revealing a strip of pale, rounded belly that jiggled with each step she took. She pretended not to notice, but the feeling of her overstuffed stomach pressing heavily against her shorts thrilled her.

That night, she returned home and ordered another meal—burgers and fries, followed by a milkshake. She ate with a sense of urgency, determined to reach her goal. By the end of the weekend, she was 220 pounds, and her belly was noticeably rounder, her thighs thicker, and her cheeks fuller.

September 2024

By September, Meredith had fully embraced the changes in her body. Gone were the doubts and reservations that had once tugged at her. She no longer worried about her friends noticing her expanding figure or what they might say about her growing appetite. Instead, she relished every new pound she gained, every stretch of her softened skin. The mirror had become her favorite place in the house, a daily reminder of how far she’d come since that secret New Year’s resolution.

Football season was one of her favorite times of the year, and tailgating with friends meant endless opportunities to indulge. This September Saturday, the air was cool and crisp, the perfect weather for a game and all the greasy, carb-heavy foods that came with it. As she stood in front of her mirror, she held up her old football jersey, a nostalgic reminder of her slimmer days.

The jersey, once loose on her slender frame, now looked almost comically small. She could already imagine how it would cling to her softer, thicker body, emphasizing the curves that had grown beneath it. But rather than feeling any hint of nervousness, she smirked at her reflection. Let’s see how it fits now, shall we? she thought, feeling a thrill of excitement.

She slipped the jersey over her head, tugging it down over her shoulders. The fabric stretched taut around her fuller chest, struggling to accommodate the extra softness she had gained. It clung tightly to her midsection, highlighting the swell of her belly that now jutted out proudly. As she pulled it down further, the hem caught on the rounded curve of her stomach, which now extended far beyond what it had last season.

Meredith ran her hands over the tightness of the jersey, feeling the way it hugged every inch of her new curves. Her love handles peeked out from underneath the hem, the jersey riding up slightly every time she took a deep breath. I love how much I’ve changed, she thought with a smile, turning sideways to admire how her belly pushed out against the fabric.

With a sense of satisfaction, she headed out to the tailgate. As she arrived, the familiar buzz of excitement washed over her. Friends waved her over, but this time she didn’t care if their eyes lingered on her figure. She welcomed the stares, knowing they were seeing just how much she had changed—and she couldn’t have been prouder.

She busied herself with the food, piling her plate high with everything she could find—cheeseburgers dripping with grease, hot dogs smothered in ketchup, potato chips, and an endless array of dips. Each bite was a celebration, a reminder of the life she had chosen for herself. The first bites were heavenly. The salty, rich flavors filled her mouth, and she could feel herself relaxing, letting the food ease her into a state of bliss. This is exactly where I’m meant to be, she thought, taking another large bite of a cheeseburger.

“Meredith, you sure you’re going to finish all that?” one of her friends teased, glancing at her heaping plate.

She grinned, patting her belly with one hand. “You bet I am,” she said proudly, leaning back to let her swollen stomach settle into her lap. Her belly strained against the fabric of her jeans, but she welcomed the sensation. The tightness was a familiar friend now, a reminder of how far she had come.

As the day wore on, she made trip after trip back to the food table, each time loading up her plate a little more than the last. She could feel her stomach stretching to accommodate the feast, pressing heavily against her waistband. Her jeans, which had felt snug when she first put them on, now bit into her sides with each step she took, but she hardly noticed. Let them see me like this, she thought, rubbing a hand over her belly as it rounded out further with every bite. I love every new curve.

"Mer, you’re eating like a linebacker!" one of her friends joked as he watched her devour an entire plate of chili cheese fries, barely pausing for breath.

She just laughed, patting the belly that now spilled over the waistband of her tight jeans. "What can I say? I’m bulking up for the season," she replied, raising a beer in a mock toast before chugging it down.

By mid-afternoon, Meredith’s belly was rounding out over the waistband of her jeans, a firm, protruding curve that pressed against the strained fabric of her jersey. The pressure of the food in her stomach was intense, but she reveled in it. She could feel her belly pressing outwards, the weight of it a constant, comforting presence.

One of her friends called out with a laugh, “You’ve got quite an appetite today, huh?”

She winked, raising a beer in response. “Always have,” she replied confidently, taking a long sip. She savored the way the beer mixed with the heavy fullness in her stomach, adding a pleasant buzz to her already blissful state.

As the afternoon sun dipped lower, Meredith found herself sprawled out on a fold-out chair, her belly pushing out heavily against the front of her jersey. The fabric clung to her in a way that felt almost like a badge of honor, showcasing the roundness that now dominated her midsection. She glanced down at the way the jersey rode up, exposing a strip of pale, soft skin, and she couldn’t help but smile.

I’ve come so far, she thought, rubbing her belly contentedly as she watched the game on the big screen. Her friends were still milling around, laughing and joking, but she felt like she was in her own little world, savoring every sensation her body offered her. And there’s still so much more to go.

She cracked open another beer, wincing slightly as the carbonation bloated her even more, but she welcomed the feeling. She took a long sip, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat and settle in her already packed stomach. Her belly pushed harder against the waistband of her jeans, and she undid the button without hesitation, letting out a sigh of relief as her belly surged forward.

The relief was immediate, and she laughed softly to herself as she felt her stomach spread out, pressing more obviously against her jersey. Look at me, not even caring who sees. She rubbed a hand over the tight curve of her belly, feeling the way it bulged out over her jeans, and a wave of pride washed over her.

As the day went on and the tailgate continued, Meredith allowed herself to get lost in the indulgence, feeling the cool breeze on her face and the warm, heavy weight of her belly resting in her lap. She no longer worried about what others thought or whether they noticed her transformation. All she cared about was the satisfaction that came from pushing her limits, from feeling her body expand with every bite, every sip.

She looked around at the crowd, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. This is the new me, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. As she leaned back in her chair, taking another sip of beer, she knew that she was exactly where she wanted to be, savoring every moment of her journey.

By the end of September, Meredith had reached 245 pounds, her figure becoming rounder and softer with each tailgate. Her friends might have noticed her expanding belly, but she didn’t care—if anything, their teasing only spurred her on.

October 2024

Halloween was another opportunity for Meredith to indulge, and she took full advantage of the holiday. She wore a costume that clung tightly to her curves—a nurse’s outfit that she had bought in her old size, now stretched taut over her new, fuller body. Her belly strained against the fabric, threatening to pop out with every movement, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she walked into the party.

"You’re looking… different," Mia said again, a hint of disbelief in her voice as she eyed Meredith’s noticeably thicker figure. Meredith just shrugged, grabbing a handful of candy from a nearby bowl and stuffing it into her mouth.

"Guess I’ve been enjoying myself," she replied, the chocolate melting on her tongue. She spent the entire party eating everything in sight—candy, chips, mini pizzas, and cupcakes. By the end of the night, she had eaten so much that she had to unbutton her costume just to sit down.

Back at home, she lay in bed with her belly swollen and heavy, her hand resting on its dome-like curve. I’m getting so close, she thought, her heart racing with excitement. Just a few more months.

November 2024

By November, Meredith was a new person, inside and out, and she had fully embraced her decision to transform. Her body had changed dramatically since that New Year’s resolution—a soft, curvy figure that bore little resemblance to her old self. She loved the extra weight she carried, the way her body had softened and rounded out in all the places that had once been lean and toned. And Thanksgiving, with its promise of abundant food and family gatherings, felt like the perfect way to celebrate just how far she’d come.

As she arrived at her parents' home, she felt a flutter of anticipation. The house was filled with the familiar scents of roasted turkey, fresh bread, and sweet, buttery pies. But this year, Meredith was looking forward to the feast in a new way. She wasn’t just there to enjoy the food—she was there to push her limits, to savor every bite, and to relish the growing fullness that had become such a comforting part of her life.

She walked through the front door, greeted by her parents and siblings, all of whom seemed surprised by how much she had changed since they’d last seen her. Her mom’s eyes lingered on the way Meredith’s softer curves filled out her sweater and jeans, but she didn’t comment—though Meredith could tell she was holding back a question or two.

“Good to see you, sweetie! You look… different!” her mom finally said, offering a tight smile.

Meredith laughed, a warm, easy sound. “Yeah, I’ve, uh, put on a few pounds,” she said casually, patting the swell of her belly with one hand. She could feel it pressing against the waistband of her jeans, a gentle reminder of how much her body had changed. “But I’m happier than ever.”

Her mom’s expression softened, and she reached out to hug Meredith. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy, honey. And you came just in time—we’ve got more food than we know what to do with!”

As the family gathered around the dining table, Meredith took a seat, the anticipation building in her chest. She could already feel the waistband of her jeans digging into her sides, but she didn’t mind. If anything, it made her smile—knowing that in a few hours, she’d be too full for them to stay buttoned.

The first round of dishes came out, and Meredith wasted no time piling her plate high with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and candied yams. The food was rich and decadent, and she savored every bite, letting the flavors melt on her tongue. She felt a familiar warmth spreading through her body, a pleasant heaviness settling in her stomach as she worked through her first plate.

I’ve come a long way, she thought with a contented smile as she reached for a second helping. No more worrying about fitting into my old clothes or counting calories. This is exactly where I want to be.

As the afternoon wore on, Meredith continued to eat, ignoring the gentle pressure building in her belly. She moved from the turkey to the casseroles, heaping spoonfuls of creamy green beans and sweet potato casserole onto her plate. Her belly pushed harder against the waistband of her jeans, and she could feel the fabric digging into her skin, a tight line that cut into the soft flesh of her stomach.

By the time dessert rolled around, Meredith’s stomach was tight and round, pressing insistently against the confines of her jeans. She shifted in her chair, feeling the waistband bite into her sides, but she didn’t let it slow her down. Come on, Mer, you know you’ve got room for more, she encouraged herself, eyeing the pumpkin pie with whipped cream. Her mom slid a slice onto her plate, and Meredith eagerly dug in.

As she took bite after bite of the rich, spiced pie, she could feel the tension in her belly building, a familiar, pleasant ache that spread through her midsection. The fullness was almost overwhelming now, and she couldn’t resist leaning back in her chair, pressing a hand to her swollen stomach. Look at you, you’re absolutely stuffed, she thought, a sense of pride swelling in her chest.

But instead of slowing down, she pushed forward, savoring every bite of pie, every dollop of whipped cream. She could feel her belly pressing harder against the waistband of her jeans, the fabric straining to contain her expanding middle. The pressure became unbearable, and with a quiet sigh, she undid the button, feeling immediate relief as her belly surged forward, filling the extra space.

She let out a soft groan, rubbing a hand over the taut curve of her stomach. “Much better,” she murmured to herself, ignoring the knowing looks from her siblings across the table. Her belly spilled over the waistband now, round and heavy, pressing against the edge of the table.

Meredith’s mom looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. “Still got room for more, Mer?” she teased lightly, her tone carrying a hint of surprise.

Meredith grinned, unabashed. “Always,” she replied, reaching for a second slice of pie. She piled it high with whipped cream, not caring how tight her sweater had become around her rounded midsection. She knew she’d outgrown nearly all her old clothes, but she wore her new body with pride. She had never felt more at ease in her own skin.

Later, as the family began to drift off into different rooms, some of them gathered in the sitting room to chat and share stories, while Meredith and a few others made their way to the living room to watch the football game. She plopped down onto the couch, feeling the weight of her stuffed belly settle into her lap. The waistband of her jeans, still undone, dug slightly into her sides, but she welcomed the sensation—it was a reminder of how much she had enjoyed the feast.

Meredith reached for a beer as she settled in, cracking it open and taking a long sip. The cold carbonation bubbled in her already-full stomach, but she didn’t mind. She could feel her belly pushing against the tight fabric of her sweater, which had ridden up to reveal a sliver of soft skin. She glanced down at her rounded stomach, pressing outwards over her unbuttoned jeans, and couldn’t help but smile.

I look so different from last year, she thought with a sense of pride. And I wouldn’t change a thing.

The game played on, and Meredith leaned back, letting herself relax fully into the couch. The hum of conversation from the other room mixed with the roar of the crowd on the TV, creating a cozy, familiar atmosphere. She reached for the bowl of chips on the coffee table, munching absentmindedly even though she was already so full she could barely breathe.

Her brother glanced over at her, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’ve been really going for it today, Mer. Think you’ll be able to move after this game?”

She chuckled, giving her belly a playful pat. “We’ll see,” she said, grabbing another handful of chips. “I might just stay right here until Christmas.”

The two of them laughed, and Meredith settled back into the game, feeling the comforting weight of her stuffed belly pressing down against her thighs. She let herself get lost in the moment, enjoying the familiar traditions of Thanksgiving with a new sense of satisfaction. The food, the warmth, the feeling of her body growing and changing—it all felt like a celebration of everything she had embraced over the past year.

As the game wore on, she couldn’t help but reach for one more slice of pie from the table, enjoying the sweet richness as it filled her mouth. She could feel her belly swelling even more, pressing heavily against her lap, but she didn’t care. This is my new normal, she thought, rubbing a hand over the tight curve of her stomach. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

December 2024

As December rolled in, Meredith’s excitement reached a fever pitch. She had just one month left to reach her goal, and she was closer than ever. Her weight had climbed well past 280 pounds, her once-slim body now fully transformed into a much larger, softer version of herself. She could feel the weight of her belly resting on her lap whenever she sat down, the way it shifted and jiggled with each step she took. Her thighs had thickened, rubbing together as she walked, while her arms had grown softer, her cheeks rounding out to give her face a cherubic fullness.

Her body told the story of her journey in every curve, roll, and mark. Stretch marks rippled across her sides and the lower curve of her belly, fading from a bright red to a softer pink as they adjusted to her new size. They stretched like lightning bolts along her thighs and hips, a testament to just how quickly she had grown. Each time she traced a finger over those marks, she felt a swell of pride—proof of her dedication, a visible reminder of all the meals, snacks, and indulgent evenings that had brought her to this point.

I did this, she would think, standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, running her hands over the plush curve of her belly, the way her hips now strained against the waistband of even her largest sweatpants. And I’m not done yet.

With New Year’s Eve fast approaching, she had become more determined than ever to hit her target of 300 pounds, and she was pulling out all the stops. Her routine of eating had become almost constant—she kept snacks within reach at all times, indulging in cookies, chips, and candies between meals. And when she wasn’t eating, she was planning her next meal, finding new ways to push herself just a little further.

Christmas was another perfect opportunity for Meredith to indulge, and she took full advantage of it. Her parents welcomed her home once again, the house decorated with twinkling lights and garlands. As she walked through the front door, carrying bags filled with gifts and snacks, she could feel her mom’s eyes widening at her latest transformation.

Meredith had dressed in a red sweater that hugged her expanded curves and a pair of leggings that, despite being stretched to their limit, still emphasized just how much she had grown. Her belly pressed heavily against the front of the sweater, the fabric riding up slightly with every movement. Her mom opened her mouth as if to comment, but thought better of it and simply offered a warm hug.

“Good to see you, Mer! Hope you’re hungry—we’ve got a lot of food to get through!” her dad said with a chuckle, patting her on the back.

Meredith grinned, feeling a rush of excitement. “You know me, Dad. I’m always hungry,” she said with a wink.

The house was filled with holiday treats—sugar cookies, gingerbread, fudge, and a massive roast dinner waiting in the kitchen. Meredith wasted no time digging in, piling her plate high with ham, mashed potatoes, and buttery rolls, savoring the rich, savory flavors. She could feel her belly stretching to accommodate the heavy meal, a familiar, comforting ache that only made her more determined.

But what Meredith looked forward to the most was the eggnog. After dinner, while the rest of the family gathered in the living room to exchange gifts and chat, she slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a full container of eggnog from the fridge. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was around, before lifting the container to her lips and taking a long, slow gulp.

The eggnog was thick and creamy, rich with spices and sweetness, and Meredith could feel it sliding heavily down her throat, pooling in her already-stuffed stomach. She drank straight from the container, chugging it without pause, and with each swallow, she felt her belly grow heavier, pressing against the waistband of her leggings. She wrapped her free hand around the round curve of her stomach, feeling the tightness as the eggnog filled her up, stretching her even further.

Just a little more, she thought, savoring the feeling of the cool liquid mingling with the warmth of her overfull belly. Her breath grew shallow as she took another gulp, and another, until she had finished off nearly half the container. She let out a quiet groan as she pulled it away from her lips, resting a hand on her aching stomach. It was taut and firm beneath her touch, her skin stretched to accommodate the feast and the thick eggnog.

She glanced down, smiling at the way her belly bulged out in front of her, pressing firmly against the fabric of her sweater. You’re almost there, Mer, she told herself, rubbing her belly in slow circles. Just a little more, and you’ll make it.

As Christmas passed and the last days of December ticked by, Meredith threw herself into her goal with renewed enthusiasm. She spent her days indulging in rich meals and long, leisurely stuffing sessions, allowing herself to eat whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Her favorite pair of sweatpants had become so tight that she could barely pull them over her hips, but she refused to buy anything new. She loved the way they hugged her curves, emphasizing how far she had come.

Her body had become heavier than ever, each step reminding her of the weight she now carried. Her belly had grown into a soft, heavy curve that sagged over her waistband, a rounded mass that jiggled with every movement. Her thighs had thickened even further, straining against the seams of her leggings, and her backside had grown fuller, pressing tightly into the fabric of her clothes.

Meredith’s once-defined arms now had a softness to them, her face had filled out, giving her cheeks a rosy roundness that matched the rest of her. And she adored every inch of it, every new curve and crease that made her body feel more like home. The stretch marks on her sides had deepened, tracing across her hips like a roadmap of her journey, and she ran her fingers over them with pride.

On the nights leading up to New Year’s Eve, she would sit in front of the TV with a tub of ice cream or a box of donuts, methodically working her way through them while her belly grew rounder, heavier, fuller. She could feel the weight of it pressing down on her thighs, could hear the quiet creaks of the couch beneath her as she settled deeper into her seat.

And as each night ended, she would waddle to bed with her hands cradling the heavy swell of her stomach, feeling a sense of triumph wash over her. I did this, she would think as she lay down, feeling the weight of her belly pressing against the mattress. I made it happen, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Meredith’s final weigh-in before New Year’s Eve showed 298 pounds. She stared at the number, a rush of excitement filling her chest. Almost there, she thought, looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her belly, round and full, hung over the waistband of her too-small sweatpants, and her face was flushed with pride.

She smiled at herself, running a hand over her soft, plush belly. “I’m going to hit 300 if it’s the last thing I do,” she whispered, her reflection grinning back at her. “I’m going to finish what I started.”

New Year's Eve 2024

New Year’s Eve had finally arrived, and Meredith could hardly contain her excitement. She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her form-fitting black dress. It clung to every new curve, highlighting her rounded belly, full hips, and the soft rolls that hugged her sides. The dress, once loose and sleek, now seemed to fight for space against her body, the fabric pulling tight around her thighs and rear. Meredith ran her hands down the front of her belly, feeling the familiar weight of it pressing against the stretchy material.

She admired her reflection, knowing that tonight was the night she’d reach her goal of 300 pounds. She had been waiting for this moment all year, working toward it one indulgence at a time, and now she was just two pounds shy. A grin spread across her face, her cheeks rounding out, dimples deepening as she traced the outline of her softened jawline.

Just a little more, she thought, her heart pounding with anticipation. Tonight’s the night I make it happen.

She arrived at her friend’s New Year’s Eve party feeling like the center of attention, her black dress accentuating her every curve as she made her way through the door. The house was filled with the sounds of music and laughter, the air thick with the mingling scents of appetizers, desserts, and freshly poured champagne. Meredith took a deep breath, feeling her stomach press against the waistband of the dress. She was ready to eat—and eat a lot.

“Meredith, you look amazing!” one of her friends exclaimed as she walked in, her eyes widening as she took in Meredith’s transformed figure.

Meredith just smiled, giving a little twirl that made the hem of her dress flutter over her thicker thighs. “Thanks! I’ve been working on a new look this year,” she replied with a wink, patting the side of her belly.

She made her way over to the food table, eyeing the spread of snacks and treats: trays of sliders, crispy fried chicken, chips and dip, pasta salad, and a massive chocolate cake in the center. She filled a plate with all her favorites, piling it high with greasy appetizers and rich desserts. With each bite, she could feel herself edging closer to her goal, the familiar sensation of fullness building in her belly.

As Meredith made her way back into the crowded living room, she was immediately greeted by a chorus of cheers and laughter. Her friends were buzzing with energy, the excitement of the impending new year contagious. The moment she stepped into the room, one of her friends, Kelsey, noticed her and made a beeline for her.

“Meredith! There you are!” Kelsey exclaimed, giving her a quick hug before stepping back, her eyes widening slightly as she took in Meredith’s appearance. “Wow, you look... different! That dress is stunning on you!”

Meredith flashed a proud smile, letting out a soft laugh. “Thanks, Kelsey! I’m really trying something new this year,” she said, giving a playful wink as she adjusted the snug dress that hugged her every curve.

Kelsey nodded, her eyebrows raising in amusement. “Well, it’s definitely working for you! And it looks like you’ve been enjoying yourself over the holidays, huh?” she teased, gesturing to the snacks Meredith had piled on a nearby plate.

Meredith chuckled, giving her rounded belly a gentle pat. “You know me—can’t resist a good party spread,” she replied with a grin. “It’s all about enjoying the little things, right?”

Another friend, Rachel, overheard and joined the conversation, holding out a glass of champagne to Meredith. “Girl, you’re like the life of the party tonight! I swear, you’ve been parked next to that food table all night,” Rachel joked, nudging her playfully.

Meredith accepted the champagne, taking a sip before responding. “Well, someone’s got to make sure all this delicious food doesn’t go to waste,” she said with a laugh, raising her glass in a mock toast. “And I’m definitely up for the challenge!”

Kelsey and Rachel laughed, shaking their heads. “We’re going to have to roll you out of here at this rate!” Kelsey joked, glancing down at the way Meredith’s belly pushed against the front of her dress.

Meredith gave a playful shrug, feeling the fabric stretch tighter across her middle. “Hey, it’s New Year’s Eve—I’m just making sure I start the new year on a high note,” she said, her voice lighthearted even as she relished the fullness of her belly pressing against the dress. “No resolutions for me this year, just living my best life.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips. “Oh, so no ‘get back to the gym’ resolutions, then?” she teased, poking Meredith’s side gently.

Meredith shook her head with a grin. “Nope, not this time,” she said, taking another big sip of champagne. “I think I’ve earned a break. Besides, I’m all about embracing the moment.”

As the conversation continued, Meredith couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction in the playful exchanges. Her friends’ comments, while lighthearted and teasing, only reinforced her sense of accomplishment. She glanced down at her plate of food, eyeing the remaining snacks with determination.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with these chicken wings,” Meredith said with a smirk, heading towards the couch. “See you guys in a bit!”

Kelsey laughed, raising her glass to her. “Go get ’em, Mer! Just make sure you save some room for the midnight toast!”

Meredith waved them off with a laugh, her mind already returning to the feast she’d been working through all night. She could feel her belly straining against the dress as she walked, a constant reminder of just how far she’d come. She washed down each mouthful with sips of beer and champagne, enjoying the bubbles fizzing in her already-stretched stomach. The dress, which had been snug when she arrived, was now uncomfortably tight, the fabric digging into her sides as her belly pushed against it. She felt the waistband press against her belly, cutting into her soft flesh, but she ignored the discomfort, driven by the thought of seeing that final number on the scale.

Almost there, just keep going, she thought to herself, biting into another slider. She could feel her belly swelling, pressing against the table as she leaned forward to reach for more snacks. Her stomach ached from the fullness, but she welcomed the sensation—it was a sign that she was nearing the finish line.

At one point, Meredith caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror as she went to grab another plate. Her belly pushed out in front of her, round and firm, straining against the confines of the dress. Her hips filled out the sides, her thighs rubbing together with every step. She felt a rush of pride as she ran a hand over the tight fabric, loving the way her body had changed over the past year.

Later, as the clock neared midnight, her friends gathered around her, offering more snacks and refilling her glass. Kelsey watched as Meredith polished off yet another plate, shaking her head with a smile.

“Okay, seriously, where do you put it all?” Kelsey asked, a mix of amazement and curiosity in her voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone eat this much and still keep going!”

Meredith laughed, wiping a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth. “It’s all about practice, Kelsey,” she said with a wink, patting her belly with a satisfied sigh. “And let’s just say, I’ve been getting a lot of practice this year.”

Her friends laughed, raising their glasses as the countdown to midnight began. But even as they counted down the final seconds of the year, Meredith’s mind was already on the number that awaited her in the bathroom—and the final push that would make this night truly unforgettable.

As midnight approached, Meredith slipped away from the party, slipping down the hallway until she found the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, her heart racing as she stepped onto the scale she had brought with her, hidden in her bag. She adjusted her dress, took a deep breath, and watched as the digital numbers flashed before her.

298... 299... 300.

A wave of emotion washed over her as she saw the number settle at 300.0 pounds, a giddy sense of accomplishment filling her chest. She could hardly believe she had done it—after a year of dedication, indulgence, and embracing her true self, she had reached her goal. She placed a hand on her belly, feeling the firmness beneath her fingertips, the way it pressed out against the dress, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly, a sound of pure joy.

“I did it,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the muffled sounds of the party outside. “I really did it.”

She took a moment to savor the feeling, running her hands over her belly, hips, and thighs, feeling the weight of her achievement. She had grown so much, in every sense of the word, and she felt a deep sense of pride as she looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her face was rounder, her cheeks flushed with excitement, her body a testament to a year of dedication.

When she finally returned to the party, her friends cheered as the clock struck midnight, and she joined them in raising a glass of champagne. But for Meredith, the real celebration was the secret she carried with her—the knowledge that she had achieved something she had once only dreamed of.

She spent the rest of the night savoring the feeling of fullness, enjoying the way her belly brushed against the fabric of her dress with every movement. She danced with her friends, feeling the weight of her body sway with the music, and when she caught herself in the mirror again, she couldn’t help but smile. Her hand brushed over her belly one last time, and she whispered softly to herself, "Happy New Year, Meredith."