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#I don’t have to be nice to him I just have to tolerate him
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141 x stoner!reader (i know it’s illegal in the UK. humor me)
ghost: he will sit w you in the bathroom as you just rip on the pen and gets second hand high from the fumes.
soap: is the type to come w you to the dispo so you can use his military discount. doesn’t often partakes but will do a 10mg gummy and thinks he’s dying
gaz: he will smoke w you bc “pretty girls don’t roll their own blunt”. has a decent tolerance (ignore military regs) and prefers dabs/dab infused pre rolls
price: will not partake but makes jokes with you. “maybe your head wouldn’t hurt if you didn’t smoke all that devil’s lettuce!” type mfer. you got him to try cbd oil and he almost puked
poly: you all lounge in some chairs in the backyard before dinner so you get high and it’s a nice moment for you all to relax together. you all will occasionally have high nights where you all get high and you and gaz end up taking care of the others
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shynerdwantscuddles · 2 months
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My dads bribing me to put up with my transphobic uncle’s visit, which means closeting myself and getting misgendered for a week while he criticizes my appearance for being to masculine, but money’s money baby.
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seaglassdinosaur · 10 months
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Remembering that two long-running arcs of the Origami Yoda series regarding Dwight were his classmates becoming real friends with him as they stop seeing him as the ‘weird kid’ and connecting with him as a person, and Dwight starting and continuing to date Caroline, the girl he likes. These arcs present to the (presumably neurotypical) audience, an autistic-coded character as someone nuanced and human, who is capable and desirable as a partner and friend, encouraging the idea of looking past dismissive judgements of strangeness and to try to understand people, and even if you can’t, accept them and appreciate them for who they are.
#I am having thoughts and feelings abt origami yoda agin#because like. those are the major arcs w Dwight-the ones that aren’t kept to one book alone#it’s nice seeing them go from kinda just tolerating Dwight because he’s a similar outcast and they need yoda#to them actually liking him and wanting to spend time w him (see the museum visit when tommy is ditched by kellen for Dwight)#and Dwight never magically changes to become ‘normal’. the closest he gets is when he’s at that private school which is observed as kind of#stifling? to all the things that make Dwight interesting and creative#nah the series goes on and Dwight still stims and gets sidetracked by his special interests either to his benefit or detriment#but none of the kids have a problem with him for it. they get that it’s Dwight and these are the things he does#they don’t have a ton of moments of insight into dwight. they talk but they don’t dissect their conversations to parse out what he means#and that makes their communication of messages a little tricky#but the thing is: even though Dwight doesn’t tell them in a way they understand why say the rib bq is so important to him#or why he stims or what sensory issues he has because they might not have the language#even though they don’t have that passage of conversation clicked up#they accept these things as a part of him. and I think that’s a nice message to send.#maybe you won’t fully understand the people in your life but you should try. and even if you can’t you should accept them. quirks and all.#the strange case of origami yoda#origami yoda series#my post#tscooy
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milo-is-rambling · 1 year
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I forget how much I hate the taste of vodka but the whipped cream vodka is so much better my god
#make a drink sweet enough that you can’t taste it when it’s in ur mouth and then all u get is the whipped cream vodka in the burn#makes drinks more tolerable#also this is the fastest I think I’ve ever chugged an alcoholic drink#we are gonna get fucked up tonight bc we have daddy issues and fought with our mom this morning slayyy#smoked a cigarette at the lake now getting fucked up in my room while home alone#life is so good and it’s all bullshit forever#literally we could all die and it doesn’t matter and life is weird and crazy and I am happy it sucks and I am so fucking thrilled to be aliv#at all#life is good regardless of death but I wish death would just like wait patiently for my family#dad I miss u I hope you had a good four twenty where ever you ended up. im sorry moms acting like this. I hope my brothers okay at school.#I hope he’s having a good time and isn’t completely overwhelmed with everything. I was right and apparently he’s gonna come home after grad#uation and im excited to have him home again but my mothers all upset. I know it sucks that you’re dead but it’s nice knowing in a weird way#that you’re the reason me and hunter got close again. so thanks I guess for that. and smoking made me and mom grow closer. idk. you’ve done#a lot for us and most of it had to do with weed. today hurt worse than my birthday. or the six month anniversary. today sucked. and no one#else seemed to be torn apart by it and it made me feel like I was going crazy and no one could even tell#you would’ve noticed if I was acting different. I love you. wherever you are I still love you. and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such a bitch.#and I wish I took better care of you. but you were my father I wasn’t supposed to take care of you. you should’ve been there for me. we shou#have been there for mom and hunter and your parents and I’ve been thinking a lot about grammie actually. I don’t know how I feel. thinking#about her makes me cry now. I don’t have the heart to make her cry talking about my childhood but I miss her. and I miss being young. I miss#you coming to my Father’s Day dance recitals and coming back from bike week in Laconia and bringing me flowers always wearing your grey#Harley Davidson jacket and you’d have flowers in your arms and you’d be bored but so proud and you’d hug me and you’d smell like weed and#your beard was always scratchy when you’d hug me and I just miss you a lot. I miss you and I fucking hate you for it fuck.#note to self. ​don’t be pmsing and then get drinking and smoking and thinking of your dead father. you will cry
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allofuswantgwinam · 2 months
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i haven’t even posted a single thought today so it’s safe to say I’m feeling better today 🤣💀 but i have THOUCHTS AND FEELINGS
there’s this guy i work with and it is a battle bc he gets on my nerves so much *it is not jsut me also wanna throw that out there😭* he only works Saturday’s and I usually don’t have to close with him but I do tn and I just wanna pat myself on the back bc I have been doing really good with all my annoyance with him. bc sometimes it is me asf, like he gets in my nerves sm but I do not need to be an asshole but he is so arrogant and never stops talking and acts like he is the smartest person in the world and it DRIVES ME INSANE BUT IVE BEEN DOIN SO GOOD IM SO PORUD but I also am still me and real at the same time. I just try really hard to be a distance or to just remind myself “he is who he is, deep breaths and do not choose this battle” oh my god. Cause he’s not even an awful person he just is exactly what I said lol he is very nice but I just do not enjoy working with him at all but im mfing doing it and I’ve conditioned myself to just not even fucking care bc it’s just one day. only one. 1 more hour. that’s all 😭🤣
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southislandwren · 6 months
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So basically I’ve been spreading the phrase “silly quirky” around my department kind of to show that we all have little quirks and it’s okay to be different, and people have adopted it and generally use it in good faith, but I have a theory (with good evidence) that the freshman just genuinely does not like autistic people, and it’s making me really bummed out since she’s one of my close friends :(
#there’s this guy that’s almost definitely on the spectrum because he’s just like me fr and we get along really well#and he left for class and freshman IMMEDIATELY went ‘he’s always creeped me out. he’s so weird’#girl how can you say that about him :( he’s just living his life and getting a degree like us#and another guy joked about freshman being ‘low functioning’ (bad joke. i know. but this is SD it’s just part of life here)#and she got soooo bent out of shape about it. she really crossed a line from ‘joking’ to straight up micro aggressions (dude is black)#and idk. it’s rich coming from her because she’s ADHD and she should really be on our side#but like. sure tease and bully the people who are silly quirky.#i think I’m going to call her out soon bc I’m reaching my snapping point#yes I’m feeling like this because she was mean to my crush and called him creepy#but also she complains and is mean nonstop. i feel like I need to stop that before someone gets hurt#and it’ll probably be one of the silly quirky people who breaks first.#it would feel sooo good to be like ‘you know what? you’re being a bully right now and I’m not going to tolerate that.’#and then get up and leave. or say something like when was the last time you said something nice about someone?#honestly she depends on me quite a bit for schoolwork help. so I think if i refuse to help her it’ll really drive my point home#but idk. i sit next to her in class 4x a week so it would be awkward#i mean I am perfectly capable of being nice and polite despite how I’m feeling#but I don’t think she’s capable of that. luckily though I have a good reputation with our profs#and she is slowly digging herself a grave. we’ve all watched them slowly get more tired of her shit#the snarky comments during class. the joking around at inappropriate times.#like if this comes to a head I’ll come out on top due to pure reputation let alone my anti-bullying stance#idk. im thirsty and then i gotta go to bed#we’ll see what happens tomorrow but I think im done listening to her shit talk people#diary post#oh also she found out who my crush is on (because she was being mean to him) and she was like you told religious friend before me?? :(#like take a step back and look at how you’re reacting. you told me to stop having a crush on him because he’s creepy and weird.#religious friend was supportive and offered to give me his number.#she thinks she’s so important to me but honestly after I graduate I’ll probably only talk to her like twice a year or whatever#idk. now IM being the bully and that’s not cool of me. I’m just frustrated I think and I’ll be better tomorrow#(also advisor said I was ALWAYS on his good side so huge win for me ❤️❤️❤️❤️)#(and he said I’m not being manipulative by being nice to people I’m not really a fan of. so suck on that freshman 🖕)
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kenntolog · 20 days
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𝝑𝝔 an: soooo i hope u like this!! read more here!!
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cool boyfriend sukuna, who lives with his older brother jin and his little nephew yuuji, bringing you home for the first time since you started dating.
he was always reluctant about you meeting his family because he knows they will make a fuss about it and overall sukuna hates it when people pry into his personal life, which is what they usually do.
of course, jin itadori has noticed that he’s been absent — coming home from university to change and then leave or sometimes just not being home until late night — and has made sure that he isn’t hanging around with druggies or something like that like the responsible adult he is(he just annoyed sukuna into saying ‘fuckin’ hell, i’m not into drugs, i’m just hanging out with my girl!’ while yuuji makes sound effects for the drama of it).
so it’s not long before sukuna finally tells you to get ready to come over to his place. the excited squeal you let out makes his ears bleed, but it’s okay, he thinks with a small smile as he stares up at your window from below your building and waits for you to call him a little later so he can pick you up. he waits for you dutifully and you don’t disappoint him when you come out of your block; looking like an angel sent from above in your white sundress and pretty hair and soft makeup.
he can’t stop his lips from stretching wider as you shyly approach him, looking at him with an expectant gaze, waiting for him to say something.
“aren’t you all dolled up and pretty. ‘s that for me or my brother?” he teases, keeping his hand in his pocket to not ruffle your neatly straightened hair.
he doesn’t expect an answer but you still surprise him, holding onto his shoulders to peck his cheek softly and then move to his ear to whisper, “for you, ‘kuna~”
sukuna sucks in a breath and closes his eyes for a second, contemplating whether he still wants to go to the dinner or push you back into your room and have fun with you on your bed.
“let’s go, ‘kunaa! don’t wanna be late!”
he rolls his eyes and settles you into his(jin’s) car before taking his spot at the driver’s seat and stepping on the gas.
the ride is filled with the soft tunes of your favourite songs(yes, he loves you that much to let you connect to his speakers). you sing along quietly, too immersed in your own thoughts to notice sukuna covering his smile with his free hand, and watch the road, letting the wind blow back your hair and grinning softly. seeing you this excited about meeting his family spreads warmth through his chest.
though, when the car reaches his building, you seemingly get nervous, hand shyly holding onto his to stop him from leaving as you look up at him unsurely.
“what if they don’t like me?”
he flicks your forehead with a roll of his eyes while you shriek and rub the spot soothingly, “if they tolerate me, there’s no way they won’t like you.”
“you’re not that bad, ‘kuna.”
“oh, you don’t even know, baby.”
he tries to ease your nerves on the elevator ride; hand tickling your waist so you smile, lips planting soft kisses onto the revealed skin, reassuring you that his brother and nephew are far less judgmental than he is. the walk to his front door consists of you trying to run away while sukuna tries to tug you back.
and it’s really inconvenient that his front door opens exactly when his hand is raised to hit you on the back of your head so you come to your senses and stop you from being a dumbass. sukuna sighs, scratching his neck instead, while you bow down hurriedly in a greeting.
you feel your face heat up until there is a pair of much smaller feet with different socks in sight and lift your head to lock gazes with a carbon copy of his uncle, little yuuji itadori. he beams at you like the sun itself, so bright and intoxicating, “i’m yuuji! nice to meet you!”
you can’t help but smile back at him before standing straight to introduce yourself to sukuna’s brother and nephew properly.
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to sukuna’s surprise, the dinner is far more pleasant than he ever imagined it would be. it’s filled with your and jin’s soft talking, occasionally mixed with sukuna and yuuji’s bickering, but mostly jin asking you about yourself and you responding. you treat jin with respect, evident from the way you think about your answers and ask if it’s okay for him to answer his own question too, and sukuna is happy to see that you two clearly like each other already.
not even talking about yuuji, who can’t seem to take his attention off of you; his small fingers playing with the dangling charm of your bracelet, eyes trained on your pretty face as he listens to whatever you’re telling just as attentively as his father and uncle. sukuna isn’t even gonna deny that it’s a very cute sight.
at some point, before dessert, jin tells him to come and help with the dishes after politely declining your offer to help.
“she’s very sweet.”
“yeah.”
he smiles when he hears yuuji’s laughter from the other room along with your giggles. jin smiles too, continuing to wash the dishes.
“and very smart.”
“damn right she is.”
jin nods, nudging him so he starts drying off the plates. “so how come she chose you?”
as much as sukuna wants to jump on his brother for the implication that he’s not the best of choices(before reluctantly accepting that it’s not that far from the truth) he knows the answer to that question, the corners of his lips curling upwards as he busies his hands with work.
“i chose her first.”
at that, jin stares at him with a surprised look in his bright eyes. they finish washing the dishes in silence and move to the living room once tea is ready.
meanwhile, yuuji is sitting on the couch with you by his side. he’s making origami for you(well, at least he’s trying) while he rambles on about his day and you listen so attentively that sukuna even wonders whatever the hell he’s talking about.
he enters the room with lazy steps and falls back on the armchair with a heavy sigh, catching your gaze and winking at you. you look away with a small smile, refocusing on yuuji who’s gone silent at the moment. the little boy sits closer to you, urging you to lean down with a chubby hand. you oblige, waiting for him to say something in your ear. you giggle at that, hand coming up to cover your mouth before you whispered something back into yuuji’s ear. that makes yuuji all giggly and excited as he wraps his small arms around your neck and places a smooch on your cheek.
sukuna watches the interaction with a soft expression on his face, eyes halfway open and a sweet smile playing on his lips, his fist barely covering the lower half of his face, before he hears a ‘click!’ and turns to see his brother with a camera in his hand.
jin’s smile reminds him of the smile he had when he first had yuuji in his arms. so warm it’s probably enough to melt away a whole iceberg. sukuna feels his chest tighten before wondering if he can make you something more than just his girlfriend for the first time.
+ bonus!
“what did that little dipshit whisper to you?”
“he asked if he was cuter than you.”
“and you said?”
(you said yes.)
“heh, i told him you were the cutest, ‘kuna.”
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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 28 days
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Read your post about something other than angst for Simon so I have a thought that needs to get out. Morning routine with Simon. Obviously, the man is military and has a strict routine but that all goes to shit with you. Sleeping in, lazy lunch, all that cute couples shit but with Simon.
hello! tyvm for sending this idea! cute and silly couple’s domestic fluff is sweeettt!! I hope you will enjoy this :D 💖
A Day of A Cute (and Silly) Couple - Simon Riley*Reader
[6:00]
Simon doesn’t need an alarm, he automatically wakes up at 6 am.
Jogging is an important part of his morning routine when he’s on leave, a nice way to maintain his stamina, and to keep him from getting too loose.
“Where you... going...”
Oh, he forgets he has an unavoidable barrier, between him and his morning jog.
Simon looks down at you, clenching at the hem of his shirt. Your eyes aren’t even open, you just catch him in instinct and now refusing to let go.
“Go for a jog, you know it, love.” The calmness of morning makes him explain in a soft tone unconsciously.
“Stay... please...”
“You can hug your blåhaj first, I will be back soon, yeah?”
“You feel better than blåhaj...”
“...”
It’s too cruel for him to just leave you here, not when you choose him over that bloody shark you always squeeze against your body.
Simon secures the curtain so the room won’t be too bright after the sun fully rises, and lies back on the bed.
Your limbs immediately twine around him when you sense his figure is nearby, and scoots closer to him.
Jogging is important to keep him from getting loose... it’s a must for him to be strict with his morning routine...
The voices in his mind are gradually replaced by the little snores of yours as he drifts back to sleep.
[12:00]
“Can we eat fries for lunch?”
you yell at Simon who’s preparing lunch in the kitchen.
“No”
“WHYYYY!”
“UNHEALTHY!” He shouts back so his voice won’t get covered by the noise of the range hood.
okay then... you feel a bit disappointed, but you can’t come up with a convincing reason, so you just back to sweeping the floor.
just as you’re cleaning the last few spots, a scrumptious smell catches your attention, it’s not those chicken breast or salad or scrambled eggs that Simon deems healthier.
“Do you make fries?!” You knock open the kitchen door with excitement.
What you see is Simon sprinkling some salt and pepper on a bowl of fries, and he turns to you when you rush in like an energetic child.
“A few fries are tolerable” He shows you the bowl, and you can’t wait to reach out and take a bite on the crunchy and golden fries.
“Thank you, baby.” You press an open mouth kiss on your lover’s cheek.
“Don’t kiss me with your greasy mouth...”He growls, but you’re already leaving the kitchen, lilting an off-key song with the bowl of fries in your arms.
Simon just shakes his head and starts cleaning the countertop. If some fries can make you this happy, then fuck those healthy diets.
[18:00]
You two sitting face to face on the couch, the air is full of tension when you speak first.
“Mushroom”
“Mango”
“Oreo”
“Orange”
“Egg”
“g...”
“It’s over 2 seconds! Go take out the garbage, silly!”
“Fucking hell...”
Snickering at Simon’s loss, as he grumbles and on his way to grab the garbage, you add another star under your name to ‘the winner of the week’ sticky note that’s pasting on the fridge.
[23:00]
“Time to sleep.”
“but I want to watch this movie.”
“You can watch it tomorrow.”
“pleassee I want to watch it nowww Simonnn”
“...Fine.”
(00:00)
Simon looking at you sleeping like a log, whole body leaning on him and tangling him like an octopus, totally ignoring the wretched screaming from the movie, sighs and turns off the TV.
He leaves a night lamp for you, in case you need to get up for water during the night, and adjusts you two into a more comfortable posture.
He hears you mumbling something like donuts or maybe your favorite character, and chuckles quietly at how silly you are.
He already knew you would fall asleep during the movie, so that’s why he gave in, and time proves that his prediction’s correct since he’s looking at your serene face now.
“Goodnight.” Satisfied with you resting safe and sound in his arms, Simon plants a kiss on the top of your head and closes his eyes, hoping for a sweet dream that has you in it.
a/n: blåhaj sorry I love u I don't mean to harm u
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crystallinestars · 2 months
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Taking Care of Them
Short scenarios about Argenti, Aventurine, and Jing Yuan receiving much-needed care and comfort from you. Pure fluff, a little hurt/comfort for Aventurine's part.
I took some creative liberties with Aventurine's character since we still don't know everything about him yet, so this is simply my interpretation of him.
This isn't proofread because my brain is fried from writing.
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🌹 Argenti:
As a Knight of Beauty, Argenti is a highly skilled fighter who puts his very life on the line to vanquish his foes. Usually, he defeats his enemies with grace and style, but even the refined Argenti sometimes sustains injuries.
In his most recent battle, Argenti made it out practically unscathed, save for a few scrapes and bruises that marred his handsome face. That was how he found himself obediently sitting on your bed while you treated his wounds.
“I apologize that you have to see me in this state,” he murmurs, guilt darkening his expression. “I did not want to cause you worry.”
“No need to apologize,” you brush off his concerns with a smile. “Now turn this way. I’ll clean the scratch on your cheek,” you said as you gently turn Argenti’s face to one side to reveal the shallow, red gash on his cheek.
Argenti complies without hesitance and sits perfectly still as you dab at the scratch with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. It stings, but the Knight of Beauty unflinchingly tolerates the burn with a small smile on his face.
He can tell through the delicate and careful way you clean and dress his wounds that you care a great deal about him. Your touches were gentle so as to not cause him unnecessary pain, yet no less thorough. It felt nice to be touched so tenderly, to be cared for in such a loving manner.
Your heart is beautiful, he thinks. To possess such a caring and loving heart, you must rival the beauty of his beloved Aeon Idrila. Argenti truly believes that you are a wonderful and beautiful person, both inside and out.
As you finish patching up the last wound and pack away your first aid kit, Argenti turns to you and gives you a radiant, sincere smile from the heart.
“Thank you…” he softly says as gently takes one of your hands and kisses the back of it, “You have a dazzling heart—so pure and gentle. I feel like the luckiest man in the universe to have the privilege of receiving your care and affection.”
His words may sound over-the-top and perhaps even fake, but he truly means them. Every single one. Even if you don’t entirely believe him, the amused smile that his flamboyant phrases elicit out of you is all the reason he needs to keep them up.
“You’re welcome. Just try to be more careful next time. I’ll love you no matter how you look, but I hate seeing you hurt,” you murmur in reply and lean in to kiss the band-aid on his cheek.
“There. A kiss to make it all better,” you giggle as you pull away.
The little gesture catches Argenti by surprise, but he can’t say he didn’t like it. In fact, he enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would.
With a small chuckle, he pulls you close to kiss you fully on the lips. If you don’t take his word for it that he feels incredibly lucky to have your love, then perhaps his actions will convey the sincerity of his feelings for you.
🃏 Aventurine:
All his life, Aventurine has faced hate. Hate for being Sigonian, hate for being a dog of the IPC, hate for acting exactly the way that’s expected of his kind. He played into people’s perceptions of him. Why waste time trying to correct their views when they won’t change? It’s easier to just act according to their expectations and hide who he really is behind this playful and sly mask.
Only with you does he let his carefully crafted façade crumble to reveal his vulnerable self.
Aventurine is very good at acting like everything is fine when the world is against him. Perhaps to an extent, he truly believes that life is all about fighting battles on his lonesome. He can use others and get used as a tool in return, but the only one he can trust is himself. It’s the only life he’s ever known.
However, you’ve known him long enough to tell that the hate and isolation get to him, no matter how much he pretends that they don’t. When he comes home one night after a particularly awful day, it doesn’t take long for you to figure out that he feels down.
Aventurine smiled and teased you like usual, but he spoke less and clung to you more than usual. He hugged you from behind and kept an arm around you no matter what you were trying to do, almost as if he was seeking comfort from your physical presence.
Turning to face him, you glance into his tired eyes.
“What is it, darling? See something you like?” he teased, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.
“Hmm, no,” you hummed. Extending your arms forward, you wrapped them around Aventurine and slowly pulled him into a hug. “I don’t see something I like.”
Aventurine is momentarily stunned by your unprompted action, but he quickly recovers.
“Oh? How come? Am I not appealing enough for you?” he quipped, resting his chin on your shoulder and returning your hug. Unlike your tight hug, his arms wrapped around you in a loose hold, as if he was uncertain how to go about it.
“Quite the opposite,” you softly chuckle, “I don’t see something I like, but I do see someone I love,” you whisper and turn your head to look directly at Aventurine’s face.
A beat of silence passes as Aventurine processes your words, before bursting out laughing.
“That was painfully corny, even for you!” he chuckled.
You scoff but don’t say anything in response, simply continuing to hug him tightly. Slowly, carefully, you card your fingers through his blond hair before moving lower to stroke your palm along his spine in soothing circles.
Aventurine’s laughter dies down, his initial mirth now replaced with something fragile and vulnerable as he falls quiet. He won’t ever share what burdens him, but you don’t need to know the details to provide him comfort. If he doesn’t want to tell you, then you won’t pry. At the very least, you’ll do all you can to support him and remind him that he’s not alone.
Being wrapped up in your warm embrace, feeling your gentle caresses—it all felt unfamiliar to Aventurine. It’s been so long since he felt the tender and loving affection of another person. It took a while, but eventually he relaxed and allowed himself to lean into your body, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.
Silence lingered in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something soothing in not having to talk. It was freeing to not worry about pretending to be okay or be pressured to talk about the things that trouble him.
That hug—that simple act of human affection—made him feel safe and protected in your arms. When you leaned back slightly to plant a tender kiss on Aventurine’s forehead, something inside him snapped and he had to hold back tears. Burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, he clung tightly to you while you continued to rub slow circles along his back.
“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay, I’m here. You’re not alone…” you whisper, hugging him tighter.
Being wrapped up in your warm hug, feeling your affectionate kisses and gentle words is something Aventurine never knew he needed until now. Just for this moment, he lets his walls come down and bares his wounded self to you with the hope that you can soothe his pain if only a little.
And you do. With whispered reassurances and loving caresses, you ease his hurt, even if just temporarily. He is safe, you promise. He will always be safe in your arms.
🦁 Jing Yuan:
Jing Yuan is notorious for disliking the abundance of paperwork and other leadership tasks he has to take care of on a day-to-day basis as a General of the Xianzhou Luofu. Despite his woeful sighs about how tedious it is, and how the work never seems to end, Jing Yuan still accomplishes all his duties in a timely and precise fashion.
Jing Yuan is a hard worker, you are well aware of that. Which is why when he snuck out of the Seat of Divine Foresight to come spend some free time with you, you offered him to rest on your lap. And who was he to turn down such a tempting opportunity?
Sitting outside on the veranda with Jing Yuan’s head resting on your lap, you softly ran your fingers through his fluffy, white hair, marveling at how silky it was. It was as soft as it looked.
“I could get used to this,” Jing Yuan said with a sigh, relaxing into our touch. His golden eyes were closed as he enjoyed the sensations of your fingers combing through his hair, gently massaging his scalp and soothing any tension he felt.
Chuckling, you looked down at him, mirth dancing in your eyes.
“Really? I wouldn’t mind having you as my lap cat like this more often. Why not come see me every day and get pets?” you tease him as you lightly poke his cheek.
Jing Yuan cracks open one eye to give you an amused look.
“Being your lap cat sounds like a wonderful idea,” he sighs, “Laying on your lap and getting pampered sounds like my ideal life.”
Both of you burst out laughing at the ridiculous notion of Jing Yuan being a lap cat, your spirits lifting as the mood brightened even more.
“Ah, but if you ever want to take a break and relax, you’re always welcome to see me,” you say in a softer voice this time, resuming running your fingers through his tresses.
“I’ll keep your invitation in mind,” he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he relaxed into your touch once more.
The minutes pass in a comfortable and serene atmosphere, with you pampering Jing Yuan with affectionate caresses, meanwhile, the man listens to you talk about your day. You both knew that after this he would have to go back and complete the mountain of work waiting for him, but for now, you were content to spend this little bit of time with your beloved.
Under the warm sun and gentle breeze, with his head resting comfortably on your lap, Jing Yuan felt himself growing drowsy. His eyelids became heavier, and his body didn’t want to move from his position on your lap.
Noticing the General grow sleepy, you fought the urge to tease him. If you pointed out his sleepiness, he would most likely apologize and put a stop to this tranquil moment by getting up and heading back to work. He already saw you less than either of you wanted, simply because work kept him busy. Moments like these were a luxury.
Keeping quiet, you gently massage his scalp until his breaths even out and become deeper, seeming to have fallen asleep. His expression looked so serene and vulnerable, something that very few people have had the chance to witness. As his lover, you were privy to this sight more than most. You watch over him with a small smile on your face, gently tucking away a stray strand of his hair.
Thinking he was asleep, you lean down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, but as you straighten, you notice Jing Yuan peering up at you with an amused glint in his eyes.
Growing flustered, you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up with a blush.
Jing Yuan only laughs in response, but his laughter quickly turns into a contented purr as you shut him up with another head massage. Whatever teasing remark he had prepared, immediately died on his tongue as relaxation washed over him and he felt sleep take hold of his mind again.
“It’s ok, take a nap. I’ll wake you up in a few minutes,” you murmur, willing Jing Yuan to finally get some rest. You could tell he wanted to protest, but with a light brush of your thumbs over his temples, he released a sigh of defeat and conceded.
“You certainly know how to take advantage of my weaknesses,” he chuckled, voice a little hoarse from drowsiness.
Despite his initial reluctance, Jing Yuan fell asleep fairly quickly. The continuous days of endless work had left him exhausted, but your tender pampering and sweet company were just the respite he needed.
“Sleep tight,” you whisper, gracing him with another sweet kiss on his forehead.
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criminalamnesia · 4 months
Text
ending 2 for tolerate it! this was my original idea for the ending!
I just wanted to clarify that I’m writing these two endings bc of the feedback I’ve received. The first ending is for those who wanted them to reconcile/make amends, and I wanted to give those readers some closure.
this ending is for those who want reader to be happy without him (which was my original idea lol). anyways I know a lot of people didn’t like ending 1 and that’s okay!! but here’s ending two, I hope you like it better :)
[ also, this takes place in between the time that reader leaves simon/price and the last line of part two! ]
part one here, part two here, ending 1 here
your friend graciously let you live with them for a few months while you got back on your feet.
you went to therapy. stopped crying whenever you thought of him or even his name. started taking care of yourself again.
you move out and find this cute little house. it’s small, cozy. you adore it, and your friend helps you move in.
you make it your own with colors and trinkets and pictures. there’s nothing in that house that serves as a reminder of your time with him. you’d gotten rid of all the pictures, all the gifts he’d bought you before things turned sour.
fuck him. he didn’t deserve to see your growth and your happiness. he didn’t deserve anything from you.
you get used to being on your own again. it’s nice. you don’t worry about a man who is halfway across the world. don’t worry about baking a cake for his return or setting up streamers. don’t worry about how damaged he’ll be when he walks through the door.
you’re happy. you love your job, your home, your friends. you treat yourself to coffee every wednesday afternoon, and that’s when you meet him.
you’ve ordered your coffee and are sitting at one of the cafe’s little tables, scrolling on your phone, when a man clears his throat.
you look up, and he’s got the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.
“hi,” he says, and you give a small smile as you click off your phone.
“um, hi?” you say, a little unsure of why he’s speaking to you.
“not to sound weird or anything,” he begins, and you give a small laugh.
“y’know, whenever someone says that, whatever they say next does tend to sound weird.”
he nods, that smile on his lips growing a smidge wider. “right. so, I guess this will be weird then, huh? but I’ve noticed you here every wednesday, and I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.”
you blush. you don’t think a man has ever been so straightforward with you, and although you do think it’s kind of weird, you try to just focus on the compliment.
but your guard is up. you don’t know him.
“oh, thank you. that’s sweet,” you reply, and he’s still looking down at you.
“can I sit?” he asks, which takes you by surprise.
“um, sure? I guess?” you say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement, but he’s sliding into the seat across from you.
he introduces himself, and you tell him your name. he says it’s pretty. you’re starting to think he’s coming on too strong.
but as the two of you begin to talk, you start to realize that’s just who he is. he’s a flirt, a flatterer, but it’s good natured.
it’s easy to talk to him. he keeps the conversation going, and he seems generally interested in what you have to say. it’s a stark difference from your last relationship.
but then he tells you he’s military, and your heart nearly stops.
“oh,” you say, a small frown on your lips.
“that an issue?” he says, and his tone is teasing. he doesn’t know— how could he? but your face says it all.
his brows furrow, and he gets serious for the first time since he’d sat across from you. he starts to reach for your hand, but decides against it. again, the two of you don’t know each other, and he’s aware of that.
“I don’t have a good track record with men in the military,” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. he can tell something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push. he takes the bait, and you’re grateful. it makes you like him even more.
that’s why you end up talking until the place closes. the employees are practically shooing you out as you and the military man apologize profusely.
you’re on the sidewalk now, and he’s smiling at you. you find yourself smiling back.
“d’you mind if I get your number?” he asks.
as much as you enjoyed talking to him, you’re still unsure. you just recovered from everything that happened— are still recovering. you don’t want to rush into anything. so, you shake your head.
“if you’re serious,” you begin, looking up at him. “I’ll see you on another wednesday.”
he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. “im up to the challenge.”
you give a small laugh, then tell him goodnight. you turn and begin to walk towards your car, and you’re smiling like an idiot.
you don’t want to get you hopes up, but that little naive part of you— a part of you you’d thought was dead and gone— is making you. you try to stamp it back down.
next wednesday, you don’t see him, and you’re a little sad about it. you don’t see him the wednesday after that, either.
you don’t see him for a few months, actually. and after a few weeks, you’ve stopped thinking about him.
but then one wednesday, you’re sitting in that coffee shop, and there he is.
he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt, and you can see fresh cuts and scrapes along his arms. he asks if he can sit, and you oblige, gesturing to the seat across from you.
“sorry for disappearing on you,” he says, and you shake your head. he doesn’t owe you anything. you barely know each other.
“that day we talked, i ended up gettin’ deployed a few days later. didn’t have your number, so…” he trails off with a cheeky smile, and you grin as you roll your eyes.
“so im to blame, hm?” you say, and he nods.
“oh, absolutely.” he’s teasing, and you laugh.
“then let’s amend that.” you hand him your phone and he lights up. he taps his number in quickly before handing the phone back to you. you send him a quick ‘hi’ so your number will pop up in his phone.
“didn’t forget about you, though,” he says, and you blush. this man certainly has a way with words. “that’s why im here. glad to see you’re still a creature of habit.”
“is that a bad thing?” you ask, and he shakes his head.
“nah, I don’t think so.”
your phone chimes then. it’s one of your friends, asking you if you can come over. you type a quick reply and start to gather your things.
“leavin’ so soon?” he says, and you give a small nod.
“friend emergency.”
he nods. “understood. well, I’ll see you around then, yeah?” he smiling as he pushes himself out of his chair.
“you do have my number now,” you remind him. “we don’t have to wait on chance encounters.”
he hums in agreement. “that’s true, but I prefer face-to-face, y’know? especially since yours is so pretty.”
“you’re a flirt,” you tell him, but you’re blushing, and he chuckles.
“guilty.”
you bid him goodbye and walk towards the exit, your mind instantly shifting gears to your friend. you don’t think about the military man again until he texts you that night.
‘friend okay?’ he types.
‘all good.’ you respond.
he’s typing back for a good minute. the bubble disappears, then reappears.
‘if there are no more friend crises for the foreseeable future, and im not shipped off to fight bad guys, how about a proper date?’
you smile as you read the message.
‘sure.’ you respond, and he sends back a smiley face.
a first date turns into a second, then a third, then a fourth. they’re spread out over a year because of his job, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. he treats you so much differently than the last man did.
he eventually asks you to be his partner, and you say yes. of course you’re a little hesitant— things with your last military man started off good, too. but you feel like it’s different this time. he’s different.
you don’t know it, but every time he’s deployed, he talks his squad’s ear off about you. tells them you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and that you’re so funny. tells them he’s gonna ask you to move in with him.
but he never mentioned your name. maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to share that piece of you with them.
“you never shut up about this lover of yours,” simon/price says one day while they’re eating in the mess hall. although they’re not in the same squad, they’re friends, and they happen to be on base at the same time. “no way they’re real.”
your man just grins and holds out his phone, showing off his lockscreen. it’s a picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter. he’d taken it on one of your dates.
simon/price’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before he masks it. that’s you. he hadn’t thought about you in ages, but he knows that’s you in that picture. now everything comes rushing back.
your lover doesn’t notice the other man’s expression shift. he doesn’t realize that the man across from him knows you.
you had told him more about the man who broke your heart, but you’d never mentioned his name. you didn’t want to risk him knowing him.
it’s a good thing you’d never mentioned the name, because if your lover knew, he’d punch him in the jaw.
the conversation eventually shifts away from you, and simon/price is grateful. your man is none the wiser.
when he gets back home, he asks you to move in. you tell him no at first. you’re still a little broken. he understands, and doesn’t hold it against you. he takes it in stride, and you’re grateful.
you don’t know how you got so lucky this time. you don’t know how this man, who was so understanding, so kind, so caring, had practically fallen into your lap. maybe it was karma from your last relationship.
the universe crushed you once, and to make up for it, they dropped this man into your life. whatever it was, you were thankful.
the second time he asks you to move in with him, you say yes. he helps you with everything, and the whole time he’s smiling like an idiot. even when you almost drop a shelf on his toe, or when you argue with him about where to hang a picture.
you two end the night eating take out on the couch and watching trashy tv. he decides right then that he’s going to marry you one day.
a few months after you move in, he tells you he wants you to meet his friends.
you’re nervous, but he reassures you it will all be fine. tells you that they’ll love you. so, you get yourself ready and then he’s helping you into his truck, and your leg is shaking the whole way to the bar.
he puts a comforting hand on your knee. gives you a dazzling smile.
“they’ll love you,” he tells you. you nod.
when you get to the crowded bar, he leads you by the hand inside. you’re towed along behind him, so you don’t see his friends until you’re standing right in front of the booth they occupy.
you scan their faces, and you don’t recognize any of them. you’re thankful— a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. he introduces you to them, and you fit in easily.
the night is going well until your man mentions simon/price’s name. he couldn’t know, you’d never told him. he was telling the story of how simon/price hadn’t believed him when he was talking about you.
the rest of his friends were laughing, but you were tense. he noticed immediately, shoulder nudging yours as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.
“you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.
he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t push it. didn’t even bring it up again until the two of you were home.
“how do you know simon/price?” he asked you as you hung your coat up on the rack. you frowned as you turned to face him.
“he was the one I dated before you. the guy who broke my heart. the one I told you about, remember?”
your man goes silent. he’s looking at you, his fists clenched at his sides. he believes you. there’s not a doubt in his mind, even for a second, that you’re not telling the truth.
“I didn’t want to tell you his name,” you admit, taking a step towards him. “in case you knew him. didn’t want to make things complicated.”
he’s still silent, his eyes trained on you as you slowly approach. an expression you can’t name paints his face.
“I understand if you want to end things,” you tell him, and that gets him moving again. he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”
“fuck him,” he spits, and he reaches his arms out to you. you step into his embrace and take a shaky breath. “fuckin’ bastard. I showed him a picture of you, and he didn’t say anything. I was gonna invite him tonight, but he’s on assignment, and—” he inhales sharply as his hands rest on your back. “and now im gonna break his fucking jaw.”
you push yourself back, your eyes finding your lover’s. you shake your head. “it’s not worth it. besides, don’t make any enemies within your base. you’ve got enough of those already.”
you can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. he nods after a moment. silence fills the room.
“we don’t run in the same circles, usually,” he tells you, his voice quiet. “known each other since enlistment. got assigned to different squads. kept running into each other, though. kept in touch.”
“you can still—” you begin, but he interrupts.
“no, fuck him. I can’t be his friend when he’s treated you like shit. fucker will be lucky if I don’t blacken his fuckin’ eye.”
you don’t say anything. you pull yourself back towards his chest, and he holds you tight.
you don’t say anything, but your heart swells. this man, the one in your arms, is everything that he wasn’t. he doesn’t tolerate you, he celebrates you. loves you unconditionally. communicates and compromises. doesn’t pull away.
that’s why, when he asks you to marry him a month later, you say yes without thinking. because you don’t need to think.
the ceremony is small. friends and family gather and celebrate the two of you. you laugh and dance and drink the night away with the love of your life by your side.
and you don’t think of the man that broke your heart anymore. don’t give him the time of day, because you’ve moved on to something far greater. you’ve moved on to what you deserve.
a few years down the road, when your husband has finally retired, you’re making your way down the road to meet him at the coffee shop that brought you together.
someone calls your name, and your blood runs cold. you know that voice, and although you haven’t thought about who it belongs to in years, you doubt you’ll ever truly forget it.
he’s calling your name from somewhere behind you. you don’t turn around.
instead, you pull open the door of the coffee shop, step inside, and smile when you see your husband sitting at the same table you’d met him at all those years ago.
——————————————————————
author’s note:
ending 2 is finally here! while writing this, I originally pictured the reader getting with Gaz/johnny; however, I wasn’t sure how that would turn out.
how would they still work with simon/price after knowing everything? how would you go so long without hearing about/meeting gaz/johnny’s squad mates?
I didn’t know, and that’s why I scrapped the idea. You can still picture them, though! but I thought it best to have the love interest someone kinda detached from the 141.
anyways, hope you enjoyed :)
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fangswbenefits · 1 year
Text
Revelations
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel asked you to keep a secret, so naturally everyone is about to find out.
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
No warnings! Just a humorous drunk!reader drabble :)
“How much did she have to drink?”
“Maybe three beers?”
“Oh, she’s out of it.”
“How so?”
“She’s been tellin’ everyone she has a boyfriend.”
Jessica Drew’s eyebrows shot up. “Who?”
Hobie merely shrugged.
You threw them a death glare before trying to negotiate with Peter Parker for another bottle, but all to no avail.
“Please! Give me another one,” you whined, sitting down with a thump on the chair oposite to his. “I’m not drunk!”
“How many fingers am I holding up, then?”
You shove his hand away. “Seven… don’t be silly!”
He banged his hand on the table. “See? You have zero tolerance.”
“You have seven fingers on that hand, Jerry!”
“Who’s Jerry?”
You gasped loudly at the sight of Gwen sitting to your right. “When did you get here?”
“What? I was here the whole time.”
Peter cleared his throat. “Gwen, take a good look at her,” he mustered a serious voice. “You don’t want this to happen when you grow up.”
You leant back in your seat with a sigh of frustration. “I want Miguel.”
“Miguel… O’Hara?”
“Gwen, she’s drunk,” you heard Peter whispering.
“Hey! What did we miss?”
Miles and Pavitr nade their way through the busy crowd of fellow spiders, each holding a glass of apple juice.
“Took you some time!” Peter beamed with a wife smile, scooting to the side so they could join the group at the table. “Nice job, kids. The mission was a success.”
“Miguel seemed unimpressed,” Miles grumbled into the heel of his hand.
Peter hid a bottle away before you could snatch it from him, earning a grunt. “I’m sure he’s delighted!”
“Yeah? That’s his delighted face? Looked like someone had just threatened to break canon.”
Pavitr patted his back. “That’s just his regular face, Miles.”
“But he’s really hot…” you said dreamily with an ear-to-ear smile, leaning into Hobie’s shoulder.
Multiple pairs of eyes blinked at you.
Pavitr spoke first. “Miguel?”
Both Miles and Gwen were looking at you like you’d grown a third arm.
“Maybe we should get him here?” You heard Jess saying from behind you. “And you,” her hands gripped both your shoulders to straighten you up in your seat. “You need to sober up.”
You stuck out your tongue as the other spider-woman brought her travel watch to eye-level.
“Lyla, I’m guessing Miguel doesn’t want to come, but—”
The AI cut Jess off with a cheeky smile. “He’s on his way, actually.”
“Miguel is coming?” Peter beamed, unable to contain his excitement.
“Great!” You clapped your hands a couple of times, eager to see him.
Hobie took a sip of his drink. “Bet he’s gonna ruin the vibe.”
Miles nodded right away.
You were about to protest when a chorus of greetings from diverse spiders echoed throughout the bar.
“Evening, boss.”
“Miguel! Great to see you here tonight.”
“Howdy, boss.”
“Meow!”
He was here and once he came into your field of vision — albeit slightly blurred — you felt your heart flutter.
“Look who decided to come out of his cave,” Jess said, her lips quirking up into a smile.
“Miguel!” Peter punched his bicep playfully.
You were waving your hands enthusiastically at him. “Hiiiiii!”
But Miguel wasn’t amused.
His eyes roamed across the table.
“Who brought the beer?”
Everyone immediately pointed at Peter — you included — who was already smiling sheepishly while raising both hands in defense.
“Miguel, we’re just celebrating a successful mission and—”
“Peter, how many times must I tell you not to bring that stuff here?”
“She only had a couple of beers,” Peter replied. “It’s not that strong. I don’t thin—”
“That’s your problem! You never think,” he replied, jabbing a finger at bim.
You giggled. Miguel looked extra hot when he was pissed off. Poor Peter, though.
“Up you go,” Hobie said, hoisting you from your seat, trying his best to keep your balance. “Mind your feet.”
“Wait where are we going?”
“You need to get some fresh air,” he said, helping your arm around his neck for support. “Mr. Grumpy here is about to ruin the mood, I reckon.”
You didn’t want to leave, but figured Hobie was right. He was always right.
“Where are you going?” You heard a voice call out once you’d turned your back.
You twirled on your feet nearly tripping and knocking Hobie down in the process.
“Wait… why are there two of you?” You hiccuped.
Both Miguels arched an eyebrow simultaneously. Impeccable synchronisation. “Two of… what?”
You reached out with your hand to touch one of them but it met with nothing but air.
Huh?
“We were goin’ out for some air.”
You shook your head and the two spider-man 2099 had finally merged into one.
You fluttered your eyelashes dramatically at him. “The just one last beer… pleeeeease…”
“I really can’t do that.”
“But you can do me!” you blurted out with a wink.
Miguel pursed his lips.
Chaos immediately erupted from the bar table, causing some of the spiders nearby to shift their attention to the commotion.
“Language! There’s kids here!” Peter said, trying to cover Gwen’s ears.
“We are not kids!”
Jessica clicked her tongue. “No more drinks for you, young lady.”
“—you are still kids at heart!” Peter was now dealing three very grumpy young spiders.
Hobie, however, saluted you with a proud smile on his face. “You just left Miguel O’Hara speechless. Respect.”
You giggled at Miguel who was definitely not amused. At all.
Before your brain could process what was happening, your body was being hauled from the ground and tossed over someone’s shoulder.
“Time to go home.”
“PUT ME DOWN!” you protested, balling your fists and smashing them against a very hardened surface. “MY BOYFRIEND IS GOING TO DEAL WITH YOU!”
You felt your stomach lurch violently from the motion and decided to tap your webshooters in an attention to free yourself.
The result was…
“HEY! Get-get this off me!”
“I’m sorry, Pavitr!”
Your blob of web had landed on his face, sending the young spider into a frenzy as both Miles and Gwen hurried to aid him.
“Who’s the bloke, hm?” Hobie asked with a grin.
“It’s classified!”
The spider-punk scoffed. “Is that code word for ‘capitalist knobhead’?”
“Funny, ‘cause when I first met Miguel he—” Gwen started.
But was promptly cut off. “Lyla, deactive her webshooters before someone loses an eye.”
“On it, boss!”
You growled in annoyance as an orange beam hit your wrists, rendering the devices uselss. It didn’t take long before you were being dragged out of the bar, multiple spiders glaring you and whispering to each other.
“We can take her home,” Jessica offered, patting the top of your head endearingly. “It’s close by.”
“No, I’ll do it.”
Hobie seemed visibly amused. “Maybe we should wait for her boyfriend to get here.”
The big man carrying you halted his steps.
“What?”
You blinked a few times as you saw the pavement start to tilt and go into a swirl. “I’m going to fall!”
A strong arm came to wrap around your waist, keeping your firmly in place.
That was close.
“Yeah she’s been sayin’ her boyfriend’s gonna be here,” Hobie shrugged.
“She’s had too much to drink,” Peter said dismissively.
“And he is!” you snapped. “See, he’s very strong, Jerry.”
“Really?”
“He’s the strongest spider-man,” you smiled, pride evident in your voice. “Very handsome…”
The spiders in front of you exhanged confused looks and as the motion resumed, your insides flipped momentarily.
“He’s really big, too…”
Jess spoke this time. “Big? As in… tall?”
You nodded. “Right! But also… his dic—”
“Enough!”
“Bloody hell…”
“Woah!” Jess gasped.
Miles, Pavitr, and Gwen, on the other hand, were having the time of their lives.
“Miguel’s face!” Gwen chuckled as Miles leaned on her shoulder fighting back the tears.
Oh. Right.
Miguel was the one carrying you…
Peter was absolutely scandalised, urging them back inside. “Let’s finish our apple juice,” Peter called, ruffling Pavitr’s hair. “I have these amazing photos of Mayday to show!”
None of the budged, though, enjoying the show.
“Real shame your boyfriend isn’t here to witness this,” Hobie said.
You grinned. “But he is! Right here!” you accentuated each word with a pat between Miguel’s shoulderblades.
“Ah, knew she was talking gibberish,” Hobie clicked his tongue.
Jess came to take a look at Miguel’s face. “I… don’t think she is.”
“Well! What a fun night,” Peter said in his usual cheerful voice.
“Wait… WHAT?!” Gwen and Pavitr half-yelled in unison.
Miguel let out growl. “Go back inside. We’ll talk about the next mission tomorrow.”
“But—”
He turned to face them, which had you clamp one hand on your mouth from the turbulence.
All three of them rushed back inside with Peter following closely behind.
“No wonder you showed up for once,” Jess said adjusting her glasses.
“Please… don’t start,” Miguel sighed. “Especially you.”
Hobie adjusted a couple of pins on his vest. “Chill, bro.”
“Say bye-bye,” Miguel said, tapping the back of your thighs.
You waved your hand clumsily at them. “Byeeee!”
Both of them returned the gesture, chuckling.
In no time, you felt yourself being hurled into the night sky across the tall buildings that covered the landscape of Nueva York.
The cool air and silence allowed the realisation to suddenly dawn on you as Miguel carried you effortlessly with each swing of his web, red glow flashing around you.
Fuck…
“They all know, don’t they…” you mumbled into his embrace when he made a quick stop at a rooftop.
“Yes.”
“Sorry, Miguel…” you hiccuped.
He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “It was only a matter of time, I suppose.”
You curled up against him, cheek resting on his shoulder as he heaved a deep sigh and ran one hand along your back in a loving caress.
He had wanted it to be a secret mostly because he feared others might see it as a liability. After all, as long as he put up a front that he had nothing to lose, then it would be a great asset to have in this line of work.
Or so he thought.
Feeling the pounding headache brewing inside your head, you merely groaned into the crook of his neck.
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lovebugism · 8 months
Note
Okay maybe Eddie bought a silly couple costumes for himself and r (something cute with “Why aren’t you wearing a costume?” and “I’m not wearing that.”) 🩷
ty for requesting lovie! happy fictober! ily! — eddie buys you a costume you don't feel pretty enough to wear and the gang crashes your cuddling session (hints of smut, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.5k)
fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
Your bare bodies stick together beneath a decade-old quilt. Eddie’s nice enough to let you use his lanky bicep as a makeshift pillow while you cuddle on the couch. His other hand hovers over your face, smoothing out the subtle furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb.
“What’s this face for, huh?” he singsongs into the heavy, golden, post-sex silence of the trailer. His smile is swollen and crooked and barely there. It’s a very hushed sunshine compared to your distant pout.
“‘Cause I still feel bad,” you confess, voice so soft it’s nearly inaudible. Your feet knock with Eddie’s when your anxious legs entwine with his. “I made you miss that movie.”
“You didn’t make me miss shit,” Eddie laughs, assertive but not unkind. His warm palm spreads over your cheek. His chocolate eyes dance between both of yours. “I stayed in ‘cause I wanted to, alright? I wanted to spend time with you.”
“You called me a succubus,” you tease with a gentle giggle.
He had, though he doesn’t have much recollection of it. You looked far too pretty underneath him, and he’d been far too close to his orgasm. 
His hips rutted sloppily against yours, his rhythm gone totally stupid after feeling you gush around him. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” he babbled into the sticky skin of your neck, voice tighter and higher than usual. “You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, baby? Pussy’s so good… I’d fucking— I’d do anything you wanted me to— shit.”
His legs are still numb from the mind-blowing climax he had a moment later.
Eddie’s chuckle is louder and more boyish than yours. It fills the trailer with sunlight. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause you are. Which means I’d much rather be here with you than at The Hawk with all those other schmucks.”
He kisses you to seal his promise — a chaste peck upon your smiling mouth. It’s beautifully innocuous compared to how good he was making you feel hardly more than five minutes ago.
“I know you don’t like those movies anyway, so…”
“That’s not true,” you argue with a very believable pout.
His gaze goes sympathetic. “Babe… You almost cried when we watched Nightmare on Elm Street the other day.”
“No, I didn’t!” You most certainly did.
“You said you weren’t gonna sleep ever again.”
“I like horror movies ‘cause you like horror movies, dummy.”
The term of endearment makes him grin. He likes it when you get all mean, though you never really mean it. “Is that so?” he lilts with raised brows that disappear behind his fuzzy bangs. The ends of the umber strands are damp with sweat.
You nod lazily against his arm. His fingers are starting to tingle with numbness, but he loves you too much to move.
“Mm-hmm. That’s how relationships work. Compromise. I tolerate horror movies, and you tolerate—”
“Your Harrison Ford obsession?”
You lose your firmness and get all sheepish. “Shut up…”
“I’m pretty sure they were showing Return of the Jedi in the theater over, right after Sleepaway Camp,” Eddie observes suddenly, brushing stray strands of your wild hair from your temple. “We coulda had a double feature tonight, but you wanted to stay in with little old me.”
“That’s ‘cause I love you a whole lot more than some guy I’ve never met.”
Eddie beams at your words. His eyes start to glitter like he’s won something, and his cheeks speckle pink with pride. He’ll never get tired of hearing you say that. He’ll never get tired of you loving him.
“I’m flattered,” he singsongs and means it.
You smile and lean in to kiss his grin. The boy gasps before you can. He springs up from the couch at a moment’s notice, climbing over you with naked limbs. He flashes you his bare ass just before he tugs on the crumbled pair of boxers left forgotten on the floor.
“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, eyes narrowed in curiosity and mouth quirked in amusement. You twist on the couch so you’re propped against the back of it. You clutch the heavy quilt to your naked chest.
“I forgot something,” Eddie mumbles, halfway to himself, then sends you a lighthearted glare over his shoulder. “Don’t move!”
You still, grinning softly at the boy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. You watch him while he rifles through a plastic bag beside the TV stand. “I got us something while I was at the Halloween store with Harrington earlier,” Eddie explains over the noisy crinkling sound.
“Oh, god…” you murmur.
Eddie laughs and looks at you over his shoulder again. “C’mon, babe. Have a little hope, would you?”
He returns to the couch with a smirk and something he hides behind his back. He grins like a kid when he reveals them to you — two packages of Star Wars themed costumes held in both his hands. 
Pictured on one is a guy who looks eerily like Han Solo — complete with the vest, blouse, and holster triad. The other is an uncanny Leia Organa in a skin-tight white suit, beige knee-high boots, and a flowing cape.
You blink at both of them, then at Eddie. 
“…I don’t know what I’m looking at.”
“Our Halloween costumes!” he exclaims with a beam. “See, I’m gonna be Han Solo— ‘cause I’m, you know, charming and sarcastic and handsome.”
“Don’t forget humble,” you joke with a lovesick grin.
“—And you will be my beautiful, hard-headed Leia Organa.”
You glance again at the package in his right hand, at the pretty woman on the cover. You know you won’t look nearly as good in the costume as she does. Your soft smile flickers. 
“Eds…” you mutter in a wavering lilt.
A frown forms between his bushy brows, similar to the one you’d been sporting earlier. “What?”
“I told you I wasn’t gonna dress up this year, remember?” you remind him, shifting awkwardly on the couch and clutching the blanket closer to yourself.
“But it’s Halloween, babe! Why wouldn’t you wear a costume?”
Your mouth opens and closes as you stammer out an excuse. “Because— I don’t know— I’m too… indecisive. Like, that’s a lot of pressure.”
“That’s why I picked for you!” Eddie grins, totally oblivious.
You laugh. It’s a bit cynical but not totally unkind. “I am not wearing that.”
He pouts, like a child or a hurt puppy. “But why not?” he wonders with a crestfallen inflection.
Again, you stammer. “Because— I mean— Just look at her, Eds!” you gesture to the package he holds with a significant focus to the girl on the front. “I don’t look like her!”
He grows from sad to confused. His brows pinch as he tilts his head to the side. His wild curls tickle his bare, pale shoulder. “Oh… kay?” he mutters, trying his best to understand you but not getting it completely.
You huff. Your chest stings as you explain it all to him.
“I’m… I’m not gonna look like the girl on the cover. You know that, right? I’m not— I’m not Princess Leia kind beautiful, you know?”
“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs, seemingly agreeing with you and smiling all over again. “You’re a you kind beautiful. That’s what makes you so damn sexy.”
He leans down over you with the intention to kiss you. 
Still pouting and inwardly aching, you pull back from him.
“Eddie…” you murmur, still gentle but obviously sadder.
He concedes with a small sigh. The couch cushions dip with his weight when he sits down beside you. He leaves the packages abandoned on the other side of him and gives you his full attention. 
“Look… You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, alright? We can stay in for Halloween for all I care. I just… I think it’d be a lot of fun, you know?” the boy rambles with a seriousness that’s typically foreign to him. His palm smooths across your knee over the thick quilt. His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “And I think you’d look… very pretty as my Princess Leia.”
His chocolate eyes twinkle with an undeniable sincerity. It makes your chest feel so warm it burns.
“Yeah?” you mumble, not quite believing him but wanting him to hear him say it anyway.
“Totally,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. He presses a lingering peck to your lips, then melts when he tastes leftover sex upon them. 
A switch flips within him then. His belly twists, and his eyelids get all heavy. His smirk is weighed down by lust as he pulls back from you and shrugs. “I think I could show you better than I could tell you, actually…”
Across the living room, the door busts open. 
Sunlight explodes throughout the dim trailer, making the two of you squint. 
Steve enters first, knocking on the open door to announce his arrival. “Phone’s off the hook,” he observes, pointing to the telephone lying face up on the table beside the front door. 
Eddie had two fingers inside you, and the thing just wouldn’t stop ringing. He grumbled in annoyance when he had to part from you to hang it up.
Steve puts the thing back on the hook while Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle walk in behind him.
Mortified, you watch with wide eyes as your uninvited friends file in. Your grip tightens around the blanket. You use one hand to make sure every inch of your naked body is covered with it.
Eddie doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by it as you are. Instead, he huffs in annoyance and spreads his arms along the back of the couch. They were the ones barging in, after all. If they had a problem with his pale, lanky figure and his thin, plaid boxers, then that was on them.
“Oh. Come in,” he hums, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “Make yourselves at home.”
Robin’s got a thousand-year stare in her eye and a blue, red, and purple mouth. “Can I use your bathroom?” she wavers, voice strained. Her fists are clenched beneath her baggy flannel. They tremble beside her baggier jeans.
“Uh, yeah. Knock yourself out.”
She’s already rushing down the hall before he can get the words out.
The two of you watch her leave and then turn to Steve. He’s an expert in all things Robin Buckley nowadays. He shrugs and tells you, “She had, like, four slurpees while we were waiting on you guys at The Hawk.”
You shift awkwardly like you’re getting scolded. Eddie only laughs.
As all the gang settles around the trailer — Jonathan on the recliner, Nancy on the arm of it, and Steve sitting on the adjacent table — Argyle is the only one without a place to sit. He idles beside the couch, smiling at you with rosy lips and rosier eyes.
“How are you doing today, amigo?” he wonders with a curt nod, as mellow as ever.
You smile up at the boy, not nearly as fazed by the bright style and long raven hair as you used to be. Actually, you’ve grown quite fond of his slurred jokes that don’t really have a punchline because halfway through, he realizes he’s forgotten it entirely.
“Good,” you respond, crossing your arms over the quilt you’ve got bunched at your chest. “You?”
“I’m peachy, brochacho,” he nods back at you. He grins, but the bright expression is weighed down by the weed. The skunky smell entwines with his musky cologne, creating a deep earthy scene that’s much more bearable than the weed alone.
“Not that I’m not thrilled you guys showed up—” Eddie starts with an inflection that would imply otherwise, wide eyes flitting around the room. “—But what the hell are you doing here?”
“You’d know if you answered the phone,” Steve retorts with a scrunched nose, flipping through a random car magazine. The Beemer on the front matches the sunshine yellow of his sweatshirt.
“Well, I was a little busy, Harrington—”
You nudge Eddie before he can finish the stupid joke. Everyone could already hear it anyhow — “I was a little busy, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” 
He shoots you an innocently confused look. You give him a half-hearted glare in return.
“You guys flaked on movie night, so we brought the movies to you,” Nancy singsongs with a sweet, pink smile.
Jonathan unrolls the folded-up paper bag between his feet. The flimsy cardboard crackles loudly as he rifles through it. He pulls out a number of unblanketed VHS tapes with handwritten stickers glued to the front of them. 
“Uh… We got Sleepaway Camp, obviously,” the Byers boy mutters in his usual Byers way. He waves the tape in his hand and sits it off to the side. He reaches into the bag and grabs two more. “Twilight Zone and, uh, Return of the Jedi.”
Eddie is as grateful as he is confused. Movie night wasn’t totally gone, and both of your movies had been seemingly carrier-pigeoned to his trailer, but neither should be out on VHS yet. “How…?” the boy trails off with pinched-together brows.
Argyle answers. “Let’s just say I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy…” he smirks, then swirls his features in puzzlement. It looks like he’s trying to do math in his head. “…Who knows a guy.”
“I can pop some popcorn if you guys wanna, you know, make yourselves decent,” Steve teases with a feigned maliciousness as he hops off the square table. The old thing squeaks under his weight.
Eddie’s retort doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh. Right. My bad, Stevie. It’s not like you totally barged in on us or anything.”
You shake your head at their bickering, though you’re still smiling quietly to yourself. Eddie shields you while you rise from the couch. You wear the heavy quilt like a dress as you shuffle down the hallway to his bedroom. The thing trails behind you as you go.
“Sorry about them, sweetheart,” Eddie apologizes as soon as the door clicks closed. 
He’d wanted to say something earlier, but kept his mouth shut instead of making it a bigger deal. He knew you were bound to be embarrassed — because you almost always tend to be, anyway. He didn’t want to draw attention to the situation, or least of all to you, and make it that much worse.
“’S okay,” you shrug and drop the blanket on the carpet. 
Eddie tries not to go all teenage boy at the sight of your naked body, but he nearly loses his mind when you bend over to pick up one of his t-shirts from the floor. 
“We did sorta flake on them,” you reason as you tug the cotton over your head. The baggy fabric falls over you like rain.
Eddie shakes his head, mostly at himself. He couldn’t love you more if he tried.
“Only you would blame yourself when those assholes walked in on us,” he laughs, walking the short distance to you and wrapping you in his arms from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your neck. You smell like flowers, sex, and his cologne. 
“You’re too sweet for your own good, baby. No wonder those schmucks won’t leave us alone.”
Robin’s voice seemingly comes from within the walls — ‘cause the bathroom is only one room over, and the walls are especially thin. “Rude!” she grouses, voice muffled. “I mean, it’s true, but still.”
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Eddie develops a strange habit after sex. It’s not exactly cute or romantic or nice. Nothing bad either. It’s just… well, Steve isn’t too sure what it is. But every time, it’s the same damn thing.
He collapses onto Steve’s chest and says:
“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”
Usually, Steve is still recovering from the fucking downpour of post-orgasm endorphins. So he doesn’t question it. Hell, he stopped challenging Eddie’s tolerance to geek out months ago. Dude holds fantasy knowledge in his brain better than he holds his liquor.
Which is saying a lot.
Anyways, Steve never has the mental capacity to react or respond. Instead, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-soaked hair for awhile. Scratches out little patterns on his scalp because it always makes Eddie go limp. Quiet.
Quiet is a rarity for him. And while Steve is totally weak for Eddie’s chattiness, the quiet can be nice too.
The only reason Steve finally decides to ask about it is because Eddie slips up. Says it before they have sex.
Steve is against the bedroom door, his nails dragging down Eddie’s back. God, he loves this kind of kissing. The lung draining kind. The type that’s sort of filthy from all the heat and grinding. 
Eddie hasn’t marked him up this bad since that time someone at work noticed his neck. Asked if Steve was having an allergic reaction during an office-wide meeting.
And this is going to be even worse. Steve can tell by the sounds and the soft pricks of Eddie’s teeth. He can tell by how long Eddie spends over each spot, like the bruising skin needs more attention than the rest of him. Like licking them over will make the colors last longer.
The damage has been done. Really no point in stopping him when it feels so fucking good. Steve forgets to worry about  how mauled he’s gonna look tomorrow because his head is swimming with Eddie’s lips on his neck. His collarbone. His chest.
That’s when it happens. That’s when Eddie’s strange habit makes an early appearance. 
He kisses over the blistery mess he made, practically growls the words out this time: 
“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”
“Okay, time out.” Steve says. Heaves some air back into his lungs. Pulls Eddie’s face up before he can continue making Steve look like goddamn target practice. 
Eddie blinks a few times. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” Gonna have to wear fucking high-collared shirts all week, but whatever.
He’ll bring that up some other time. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Saying what?”
“That… thing.” Steve barely can spit it out.  It’s like his throat is physically rejecting the nerdy shit he’s about to say. “You keep calling me… a cyborg or something.” 
“Oh that.” Eddie sighs. Casually shrugs to one side. “It’s your fault actually.”
“How is it my fault? I don’t even know what fucking language you’re speaking.”
Eddie walks over to the bed, chanting Steve’s name over and over. Definitely not in the way Steve prefers him to chant his name. Very un-sexy chanting.
“Remember that day you asked me to grab your car keys?” He asks, patting the bed for Steve to join him. 
No. “Kinda?”
Steve hesitates before walking over. He didn’t necessarily wanna stop their primal makeout session. But it was bound to lead to the bed at some point, so…
Just not like this. Not talking while fully clothed. Blech.
He sits next to Eddie. Hands awkwardly fidgeting in his lap.
“Well, I couldn’t find them.” Eddie admits. “So I ended up going through your desk drawers.”
Of course he did. Perpetual snooper.
“Ended up finding a binder full of medical records.”
Well shit.
Steve’s throat tightens. Swells around the sudden guilt he feels for keeping this from Eddie. 
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a metal plate in your head?”
“Dunno. Hardly even remember it.” That’s only partly true. Steve doesn’t remember the surgery or much of the recovery process. He was only a kid when it happened.
But he does remember the hospital smells. He remembers the sounds of his IV bag dripping throughout the night. All the sensory indicators are still fresh in his mind.
“Well, that’s why. You're part-machine.” Eddie points to Steve’s head, expression softening. “And every time we fuck around, I think about your bionic skull. And how glad I am that it keeps your brain from leaking out when I bend you over the way you like it best.”
Steve laughs. The jokes help lighten the mood. Not enough to replace it entirely, but enough for it to be easy to swallow again. 
They’re both quiet as they get ready for bed, folding the covers down. And yeah, sometimes quiet can be nice. Just maybe not right now.
“Hey, Eddie.”
“Yeah?”
Steve stares hard at the pillows. “Are cyborgs like… cool?”
Eddie pauses for a moment, then hops onto the bed. Starts crawling over to Steve with a smug grin. He lifts up to meet Steve’s lips. Kisses him sweeter than normal. Lighter. Starts nodding his head mid-kiss, keeps nodding as he breaks away.
“Yeah, babe. Cyborgs are so fucking cool.”
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Spring Cleaning
Alastor x Reader // word count 3.2k
In which Alastor goes through your closet, and offers a tasteful replacement for the unsavory things he’s destroyed
Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, Alastor’s outfit-changing magic fuckery, mention of lingerie, slight suggestiveness
A/N: I’d like to thank Goodwill for providing the clothing item that inspired this fic
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There’s someone in your room, and you know exactly who it is, because - well, it’s not like it’s a rare occurrence. It doesn’t happen every time, but often enough that you’ve gotten used to seeing Alastor when you open the door, pacing along your bedroom floor, casually perusing your belongings, or sitting at your desk chair like he’s been waiting for you all day. It’s been happening for so long, now, that you don’t remember exactly when it started. And you certainly don’t know why. You tried asking, once or twice, but you learned quickly that he has a shocking ability to dance around questions that he doesn’t want to answer. All you really know is that he’s taken an interest in you, and that it’s not likely to disappear anytime soon.
Some specific visits do stick out in your memory. On one particularly horrendous occasion, he’d stood directly beside the door when you’d swung it open, hiding himself from view, only for his presence to be revealed when you’d turned to shut it behind you. His head had been tilted to a truly bizarre angle, but he’d straightened himself out while you were still reeling from the shock.
No need to be frightened, my dear. Just a bit of fun…
You got the feeling that the look on your face was exactly the entertainment he was looking for. 
Today isn’t like that, thankfully. It’s usually not. You get the impression that he doesn’t want to scare you away (as if you could run away, even if you wanted to), and that that particular visit was a rare sort of indulgence. Your door is already cracked open, and you hear him long before you see him. He’s humming something, but like most of the songs he treasures, it’s far too old for you to recognize.
Not as if he accepts that as an excuse. You’ve started learning some of the titles, just to appease him. And the lyrics. And reading the books that he’s given you, and listening to his odd bits of old-fashioned advice, and accepting his various other gifts. The whiskey was nice, although of course he insisted upon drinking with you, and cut you off at one glass. Apparently, it would have been improper to indulge any further in mixed company. The coffee was better - at least he let you drink that by yourself.
When you swing the door open, he’s half-turned away from you, and doesn’t so much as look in your direction. But what you can see of his broadening smile makes it clear that he’s heard you enter. “Hello, my dear,” he murmurs. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”
This is another thing you’ve gotten used to: being made to feel like you’re the guest, in your own bedroom. It drives you insane, but of course, you’ve never addressed it. And you’ve certainly never tried to drive him out before he was ready to leave. This little arrangement you have - truly, you’re not sure what to call it - can be unpleasant, at times, but it’s not unbearable. He never comes late at night, and never shows up when you have company (although how he always seems to know whether you have company, you’re not sure). He doesn’t seem to want anything more than your attention. 
It’s acceptable. Tolerable. And if you ever push back, you’re not sure what will happen, so you think it’s better to just leave things as they are. To let him come and go through your life as he pleases.
You’re coming closer than ever to saying something now, though, because this time he’s not just sitting at your desk, or standing idly somewhere in your room. He’s got your closet door open - and he’s rifling through the contents. Clearly, he’s been doing this for some time, because a large portion of your clothes are already lying in a heap on the floor behind him. As you watch, he tears another shirt off its hanger. A black camisole that you’d bought because it reminded you of something you’d worn often in life. A “going out top,” as your old friends had called it. He looks down with something like disgust, and drops it over his shoulder, where it flutters to the top of the pile.
“ Alastor…” You try to keep your tone even. Merely curious, instead of indignant. “What are you doing?” A bit of your anger slips through. It would be stupid to even hope that he didn’t notice.
“No need to be so hostile.” He slips another shirt from your closet and holds it up with both hands. “I’m doing you a favor.” He tugs on the sloped neckline of the delicate blouse in his hands, and a rip appears down the middle. “My mistake, dear.” 
Arguing, you think, would be a bad idea. But you really do need him to stop. “I liked that one.”
“ Hmm…well! I didn’t. I’m afraid it was a bit modern for my tastes.” He shakes his head, and turns around, dropping the shirt into the mess of other garments on the floor. He’s made it through a good chunk of your wardrobe - several pairs of pants and jeans, as well as a few accessories you’d grown fond of, are visible within the heap. “I mean no offense, of course. I only wish to help.”
You certainly do take offense, but there’s no point in addressing that directly. “They’re my clothes,” you say instead, very aware that you sound like an idiot. 
“Not anymore.” With a flourish of his hand, the pile disappears, leaving the floor bare. As well as your closet…as you carefully approach, you see that there’s almost nothing left inside. “You’ll thank me before long.”
It’s getting very hard to contain yourself now. “I bought those.”
“And I will be happy to provide some more… suitable replacements.” His image flickers in front of you - a moment later, he reappears by your side. It’s not the first time this has happened, either, but it makes you shudder every time. “To be entirely honest…” An odd twist of his neck brings his face directly in front of yours, nose nearly brushing your own. “I should have done this long ago.” He takes you by the shoulder, and guides you across the room to your dresser. “I’m nearly done already. Only a few drawers left to go.”
You stare up at him, hardening your gaze. Doing your best to sound confident, and not terrified of speaking up. “I want them back.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option. What’s done is done.” He turns, and reaches for the handle of a drawer. The small one, in the top corner.
Oh. Your stomach knots as you realize which drawer, exactly, he’s about to open. You can’t, under any circumstances, let him see what’s in there. But your protest is so frantic that it’s barely comprehensible. “That one - don’t… ”
He laughs shortly, as if you’ve said something only mildly amusing. “You’re getting hostile again, my dear. You know I don’t appreciate that.”
In a panic, you blurt out the question that rises to the top of your head. It will distract him for a moment, if nothing else. “Why are you doing this?”
You realize immediately that this was a mistake. Questioning him is always a mistake.
But then again - you would like to know.
He pauses, the corner of his grin twitching upward. Eyes narrowing as his head swivels in your direction. “I’ve taken a liking to you, my dear.” He certainly doesn’t sound as if he likes you at the moment. His voice drips with condescension. “So when you do things, or have things, that I don’t like, I find it rather jarring.” He takes a deep breath. After he exhales, his eyes flash, and he continues in his usual lighthearted tone. “Taking those things away is quite a comfort to me.” 
His smile seems a touch more genuine now. Somehow, that makes it more unsettling. So much so that you freeze up for just a second too long. 
“Back to business, then.” He lashes out a hand, and yanks the drawer open. 
As soon as he peers inside, he goes rigid. You stiffen, as well, but certainly not for the same reason. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the sharp static suddenly buzzing in your ears. “I told you…”
“No, you didn’t .” He dips a single finger into the drawer, and pulls out the garment on top by its strap, dangling it in midair and examining it. It’s black, like the shirt you’d walked in on him tossing earlier - but it’s certainly not designed for going out. Or for anywhere besides your bedroom. He stares at it for some time, until his silence becomes too much to bear. 
“You shouldn’t have”-
“My dear.” He laughs softly, more to himself than to you. “I’d really prefer you not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, so fake that it’s painful to your ears, its conceit betrayed by the telltale twitch in his eye. “Now. Do tell me. What could have possessed you, to spend your hard-earned money on something like this ?” He tilts his head, and stares, clearly waiting for a response.
This question has no good answer, but some are worse than others, so you choose your words carefully. “It…I like how it looks?”
“Hm.” If he wasn’t grinning, as always, you’re sure he’d be grimacing instead. “I can’t say I understand.” He sets it down in the drawer for a moment, and carefully tugs off his glove. “Nor do I wish to.”
You watch in a mixture of mortification and horror as he takes hold of your lingerie once again, and snags his nails across the fabric, easily rending it to pieces. He drops the torn fabric carelessly to the floor, kicks it under your dresser, and pointedly wipes his hand on his sleeve before replacing his glove.
“Ah, well. No need to say anything more about it now.” His eyes trail to the remaining contents of the drawer. “I do hope that you’re not quite as fond of the rest.” He drops his hand over the pile, and a moment later, a soft green flame envelops it. For a moment, you panic, sure that your entire dresser is about to burn, but the flame disappears with the last of your lingerie, leaving not so much as a pile of ashes behind. 
You peer into the empty drawer, mouth ajar. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” You’re probably getting into risky territory, but this mixture of embarrassment and irritation is becoming too much to bear. 
“Hm?” His eyes are gleaming. There’s something dangerous there, you think, something that you have to tread carefully around. “You didn’t get so worked up over the rest of your closet. Is this different to you?”
“You said you’d replace the rest,” you mutter, judging it to be the safest possible answer. The least likely to cause further embarrassment. “I doubt you’re going to make the same offer with…those.”
“Oh? Who says?” His eyes gleam, in that way they do when he gets an idea that no one around him is going to enjoy. “I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on it…but those things clearly meant a lot to you. And I enjoy your company far too much to let something so small come between us.”
You think that you’d certainly like something to come between you and him. A wall, perhaps. Or a large metal gate. 
“So! If it’s a replacement you want, a replacement you shall have.” He sharply closes the drawer, and kicks at a strip of shredded black fabric that still protrudes from beneath your dresser. “It should be something that can be worn in bed, I suppose. But I prefer to interpret that in a more traditional sense. Something to be worn to sleep.” His head tilts dramatically, and somewhere far above your head, you think you hear a few notes of a slow, lilting song, piped in from many decades ago. “And I believe I have just the thing.” That intractable smile pulls back, just a fraction. “Let’s see what it looks like on you, shall we?”
You open your mouth to protest. But of course, you don’t manage to get a word out before he flicks his hand in your direction. 
When you look down, your previous outfit is gone. And in its place…well. Like Alastor said, there’s nothing lurid about it. It’s a slip of sorts, made of thin, silky off-white fabric that falls almost to your knees. Delicate enough that you wouldn’t wear it outside, but modest enough that you don’t feel entirely exposed. It’s something to be worn to bed, indeed. But not by you. There’s nothing you about it. The fabric itself appears brand new, but like all the things Alastor seems to appreciate most, the design clearly comes from long before your time.
You find, suddenly, that you don’t know how to hold yourself. How to act. Your arms hang awkwardly at your sides, feeling heavy as your fingertips skim the silk that surround your thighs.
You realize, after the moment of disorientation had passed, that Alastor is not acting like himself, either. He’s quiet. You were expecting mockery, some ridiculous comment that would make you melt into the ground - but it appears that the results of your transformation have caught him off guard.
There’s a creak on the floorboards to your right. A faint sigh. “I must say, my dear…” Alastor’s voice is softer than you expected, and almost devoid of the static filter that usually coats his words. “It suits you better than I could have imagined.”
You think that you’d prefer taunting to whatever this is. 
“I’d go so far as to say you look quite lovely.”
You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to see his face just yet, and examine the finer details of the garment he’s cast upon you. It has narrow straps, and lace at the neckline, which is high enough to give nothing away. The hem is also lacy, and the cut is straight, not so much defining your curves as endeavoring to erase them as much as possible. Objectively speaking, it is quite pretty. But you’re left with the impression that you’ve strode into someone else’s closet, and departed wearing their clothes. 
“Don’t you agree?”
Slowly, hesitantly, you look up. Alastor’s eyes are fixed on you, shining a brighter red than you’ve ever seen. There’s nothing vulgar about the way he’s staring - but he’s not merely amused, either. Instead, he’s looking at you with rapt fascination, in much the way that one would contemplate a particularly exquisite piece of art in a gallery. 
“I’m…not sure.” You instinctively cross your arms, almost wishing that you saw a more crude impulse behind his eyes. That, at least, would be easier to understand. Instead, it’s something like appreciation - or pride. More of the latter. If you were merely a piece of art, you’d imagine that this would be how your creator would look at you, upon seeing you on display for the first time. 
“No need to hide.” He reaches forward, and touches you lightly on the wrist. It’s enough to send both of your arms falling to your sides. “You couldn’t even if you tried.” 
His smile, again, seems entirely too real. There’s nothing threatening about his tone. It’s even, charming. And yet…
He slips behind you, and his hand moves to your waist - a test, you think, to see if you’ll slap it away. “But I don’t think you’re planning on trying, are you?”
“No.” You’re surprised by how quickly the word comes out of your mouth, how breathless. It was an odd question, one that hinted at more than the subject in front of it, and seemed to demand an answer. 
His other hand joins the first on your waist, and he turns you around, so quickly that you almost stumble, his palms dancing lightly over your barely covered skin. When you’re facing him, one hand slides up, curling around your jaw and holding tight, keeping your gaze turned up towards his face. And it is a long way up - it’s almost embarrassing how small you are compared to him. He stares down, staying silent for much longer than you’re used to, his breathing just a touch heavier than usual. 
His fingers tighten over the silk at your waist, pressing into your skin, a small twitch of his hand pulling the fabric very slightly upwards. It barely moves the hem at all - less than an inch - but somehow leaves you feeling infinitely more exposed. You almost flinch away, but after just a moment, he lets go, all at once. In fact, he practically jerks his hands back, as if he’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, and doesn’t approve. His smile, all of a sudden, appears incredibly fragile. 
“Oh…” He laughs softly - it feels forced. “Forgive me, darling. I truly don’t know what came over me.”
You’re not quite sure, either. And as usual, you neither expect nor want an answer.
He steps to your side, leans slightly over you, both hands clasped behind his back. With what seems like some effort, he forces the usual lighthearted tone back into his voice. “You do want to keep it, don’t you?”
“Yes.” You’d prefer not to, you think, if this is the sort of reaction it draws out of him. But you can’t very well get rid of it, if he doesn’t want you to. And, you reassure yourself, just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.
“Good.” Again, overhead - but not so far overhead as last time - that lilting old melody falls into your ears. You have the odd impulse to cover them, but you force yourself to keep your hands at your sides. “It is getting late…I think you might as well keep it on, and get yourself all ready for bed.”
You’d like to push back. But all you can manage is a mute nod.
“Lovely.” He starts to raise his hand, as if to reach out and touch you again, but seems to think better of it. The hand falls, and disappears behind his back once more. “Sleep well, my dear.” Quickly, he turns on his heel, only calling out one final line before slipping out through your door. “You’ll see me again soon.”
You have no doubt that you will.
Alone in your room, you slowly approach the mirror that stands in the corner. Your reflection does not change your initial impression. You don’t look like yourself. You don’t like it. And it’s not like he’ll know if you take it off, change into something more comfortable…
Your eyes fall upon your nearly empty closet, and you remember that you don’t have anything more comfortable. Not anymore.
This is alright, you try to tell yourself. It’s just a piece of clothing.
Just a piece of clothing that you can’t imagine wearing for any other reason, or for anyone else. 
Your eyes fall upon the empty drawer in the top corner of your dresser, and trail over to your bed. Quickly, you drop your gaze to the floor. You realize, with a sigh, that it will be a long time before you have any company besides him in this room. In fact, it’s possible that you’ll never open your door for anyone again.
At the moment, doing so would feel far too much like allowing a guest into someone else’s home. 
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lowkeychenle · 2 months
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And Then It Was [ZCL] (M)
Description: After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices. Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst (arranged marriage!au, rich families using their children as business mergers yk) Content Warnings: Rich, generational family trauma, family secrets, reader in her men suck era, explicit, protected sex, mentions of pregnancy (no actual pregnancy in the fic), reader feels obligated to have children, explicit, unprotected sex, use of the pet names 'baby' and 'darling', dirty talk, oral (f receiving) Word Count: 28.2k Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (features Jeno, Jisung, Jaemin, and Mark, but mostly Jeno and Jisung! (sorry idk where Renjun and Haechan are in this fic?????)) A/N: Y'all tumblr really f'in hates me because it was so difficult to format this fic? like it did not want to let me put the whole thing on here. So if the last section is oddly formatted, that's why and I'msosorry :'( (p.s. thank you so much for 700 followers!!!)
Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :) Taglist: @midmourn @nominsgirl @winwinscvnt @bugcattie @sleepyvic @chenlesfeetpic @tolerable-tears @yutaswh0re @bitchzitschimi @velvtcherie @leefullsun @pnkified @valerieluvsyu @defzcl
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Chenle’s hand grips yours loosely, resting between the two of you right on the crack between the couch cushions. All of this is a formality, down to the smile plastered on your face. It started out simple, like something out of a movie, honestly, but even movies have to roll the end credits at some point.
“So, tell us the story of how you met,” the interviewer begins, crossing her legs as she looks at you in complete interest.
“We’ve known each other for ages,” Chenle says.
Lie. You’ve known of each other for ages. You’re only here with an oversized ring on your finger to complete your family’s merger with Chenle’s. What big news that was, two heirs of two of the biggest companies around the world falling in love. If only that were true in the slightest.
“Wow, way to make it sound romantic.” You laugh, reaching across to push his arm—gently, of course. “He makes it so lackluster. But to be completely transparent, it wasn’t…anything crazy. We did meet years ago, and we’ve been friends since then. Gosh, probably since we were sixteen?”
“Fifteen,” Chenle corrects you and sends an award winning smile your way. You’d be inclined to believe him if everything wasn’t scripted.
“He always has been a little more detail-oriented than me.”
The interview drags. You and Chenle were officially married just over a month ago, and while you know it’s your owed duty to your family, you wish optics weren’t so important. After all, legally binding yourself to secure a company was one thing, but physically binding yourself to a man you barely know? You wouldn’t dream of it. Even holding his hand feels odd, not to mention his palms are sweaty.
Your honeymoon had ended shortly before the interview. You’d been gone for four weeks, and it was the last bit of privacy you’d have when it comes to your ‘relationship’ with Chenle. You got to know him enough to where you’d be comfortable sharing an oversized house with him, but there were still a lot of mysteries between you two—mysteries you were sure would never get solved. There are a lot of good things about Chenle. He’s smarter than most people you’ve met, he knows how to make jokes and take them, he’s nice to look at, to hold a conversation with, but you don’t love him. You’d been of the mind that you wanted to marry for love since you were young, but some things are overshadowed by your duties. By money.
“There aren’t many people in this world that don’t just…immediately bow down to powerful men. It was…interesting to say the least, because throughout my entire life I’d always just been given respect. From the moment I met (Y/N), I knew I’d have to work for it. For her respect, I mean. She’s just as confident and much more intelligent than any other man I’ve ever worked with.” Chenle squeezes your hand.
That wasn’t in the script. It’s almost enough to have you break character and forget your next line. “Is that so?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles.
“Tried and true,” he replies with ease. “You really are extraordinary, you know.”
Can’t script a blush rising to your cheeks. It’s something about the way he makes direct eye contact with you that has your face burning.
Grinning, he turns back to the interviewer. “I have a lot of things to be grateful for in life. Truly, I do. I’m very fortunate for all of the good my family has done for me and for having things set up for me from the start. One thing I never could’ve imagined was that it could get better. Meeting her changed my life, and if I had to, I’d give everything else to keep her next to me.”
That time, your smile does fall, but you quickly catch yourself. Your heart picks up its pace in your chest, but you know it’s all part of the script. It has to be. He’d never give up his money, his family, his lifestyle for something as simple as you. You desperately want to pull your hand away, but you’ll wait until the cameras stop rolling.
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As soon as you and Chenle are behind the tinted windows of his car, you drop his hand and scoot all the way over to have some semblance of peace. None of this truly makes sense to you. You’re much too young to be worried about your marriage to another person equally as young as you, yet you can’t help but mull over each word that left his mouth today.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“Of course.” You pull your phone out of your purse and scroll through your social media with a sigh.
The driver pulls away from the spot, and after a few minutes, you look over to find Chenle watching you.
“What?”
“Is that it?” He clasps his hands together in his lap.
You scoff. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are we to keep acting while we’re alone, too? It’s exhausting.”
“You don’t even want to…try to keep getting to know each other? You’re just done?” He pauses, tongue wetting his lips. “We’re here for the long haul, (Y/N). We signed a legally binding contract. Divorce isn’t an option ever. We may as well try and—”
“All due respect, Chenle, I’d rather not know you. What happens if I do, and then I hate everything about you? Ignorance is bliss. Why risk hating you when I can just tolerate you instead?”
“Is it the hate you don’t want to risk?” His question catches you off guard, the confidence laced in his tone sending sparks of irritation through you.
“Are you insinuating that you think I could fall in love with you?”
“There’s no insinuation. I’ll tell you with full certainty that you would.” Chenle’s dark eyes narrow, and he shifts in his seat. “You fear failure. But a marriage failure would be easier if you’re not in love, right? No feelings to cloud your logical judgment.”
“For such a smart man, that was an incredibly stupid statement.” You scoff, setting your phone in your lap. “This is a job, not a marriage.”
“Not according to our sealed certificate.”
“Burn it for all I care. I’m not here for you. I’m here for my family, so I could’ve been married off to anyone. Don’t think that means I’ll allow you to control me. What’s mine is still mine. If I choose to see someone outside the marriage, that’s my own choice.”
“Ah.” He inhales slowly. “You’re already in love.”
“Wrong again.”
“Then why is that the first thing you say?”
“Because I have a duty to you. An obligation. But that does not mean you’re obligated to my heart.” You look straight forward, refusing to acknowledge the heat of his stare boring into your side.
“At least make sure you’re using protection.” He clicks his tongue.
“That was also in the contract. Didn’t you read it?” You tap your foot. “‘Extramarital relations require usage of effective birth control methods, and I may not bear another man’s child.’”
“I’m sorry, what?” He gapes at you. “Are you serious right now?”
When you laugh, his eyebrows furrow deeply.
“What’s funny?”
“No, no, I just forgot. You’re the man. You’re expected to stray from the marriage because you obviously don’t have everything life can offer. It’s okay for you to get someone else pregnant because you don’t have to physically have the child. Ridiculous.”
“And you think that’s my intention? Seriously?”
“It’s an expectation in every arranged marriage, I assume.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t care what you do, Chenle. Just act like you respect me at least.”
“Okay, now hold on.” He scratches his forehead, his thought process basically written out across his face. “You were the one that mentioned extramarital relationships. I was never going to suggest it because I’d never do something like that. I don’t care what our…relationship is like, it’s still a marriage. You’re my wife, whether we like it or not, and I’m not going to do anything that would undermine you or the legacy you’ve already created. Regardless of what you believe, I do respect you. Honestly.”
“I…” you trail off, swallowing roughly. “I’d prefer silence for the rest of the drive.”
Chenle runs his tongue over his teeth, but he nods.
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“Do we have to share a room?” you ask as you take your earrings out. Placing them on the vanity in front of you, you stare at Chenle through the mirror, watching as he removes his suit jacket and tie.
“We don’t have to do anything.” Chenle shakes his head and untucks his shirt from his pants. “If that’s what you want, I’ll stay in another room.”
“What?” You frown. “This is your house. You should keep the master bedroom.”
“Stop thinking like that,” he says, working on his buttons. “It’s yours now, too.”
He stops halfway down, grabbing his shirt and sweatpants to change into.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” His voice seems different, almost cold. Distant.
“Chenle,” you call out, turning in your chair to face him directly.
He sighs, stops, and looks back at you. “Yeah?”
“Before you go, can we…get something out of the way?”
“More things.” He presses his lips together in a thin line, but eventually nods and takes a few steps closer. “By all means.”
This time, it’s your palms that are sweating. You grip the armrest and flounder for the words you want to say. It’s rare for you to get flustered or shy with anyone, so acting this way in front of him has heat rising to your cheeks.
“We’re expected to have children,” you finally spit out. “Heirs. We carry two legacies on our backs.”
He shifts on his feet, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he glances away from you. “This is what you want to get out of the way?”
“I…I just think it’s a good idea for us to put our…expectations out there early.”
“About sex or babies?”
“The only reason we’d ever…is to have babies.” You try to maintain your strong facade, but the conversation makes you more nervous than you’d care to admit.
“Right, because thinking that you’re sleeping with me out of obligation is incredibly sexy.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “We don’t even have to have sex to get you pregnant, you know. There are other options. Do you even actually want children? Or is that purely out of obligation as well?”
“Everything I do is out of obligation.”
“Not anymore.” He walks closer, resting his hand on the edge of the vanity. “You’re my wife now. You do what you want, and you do it for you. No one else. Understood?”
You stand up, obliterating the minuscule distance between the two of you. Your chest almost brushes his, and you’re nearly distracted by his half-unbuttoned shirt. Tilting your head, you scan over his face.
“You’re saying there’s not anything you want from me?”
“Wanting and demanding are two very different things.” He doesn’t back down, his impenetrable gaze locked on yours.
“And what is it that you want?”
“For someone who doesn’t care, you sure are inquisitive,” Chenle remarks.
“Don’t let my level of interest stop you.”
His eyes narrow. “How long have we known each other?”
“I can tell you our first real conversation was just over six months ago. We were informed of this…situation.” You sigh. “Why?”
“I was relieved to find out it was you.” He gulps. “To know that you are someone I’m…attracted to. That we could maybe one day have something real in the wake of this…joke of an arrangement.”
“Relieved?”
“Yes.” He nods without hesitation. “And that is what I want. A real life, real love, real family. And while everything else may not be ideal, I’d never force you to give me any of those things. As I’ve said, you’re free to make your own choices. Whether they include me or not.”
His voice is soft, barely carrying over to you from his spot mere inches away. Your heart pounds in your chest from his proximity, his words, him. You don’t want to risk anything, and the consequences far outweigh the rewards of a relationship like this.
“Good.” You nod. “I’ll remember that.”
“I expect nothing less.” He takes a step back, unintentionally shattering the tension between the two of you. “Have a good night, (Y/N).”
But for some reason, once he closes the door behind him and leaves you alone in this giant, extravagant bedroom, you truly wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.
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“I mean, is that a bad thing?” Jisung’s voice carries through the phone, shuffling around with documents in the background.
Your cousin always did have trouble seeing things from your side. You sigh. “It is a bad thing. Why can’t he just be a normal man? I’m not going to beg anyone to impregnate me, if that’s what he’s waiting for—”
“(Y/N),” he says, tone laced with disbelief. “After that whole conversation, that’s what you got out of that? That he wants you to beg him?”
“What else am I supposed to get?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you study yourself in the mirror. Despite the stress as of late, you still seem miraculously put together.
“That he actually cares about you. And wants something real.”
“Then his family picked his wife incorrectly,” you insist. “I’m here because I was told to be. And why risk a lifetime of unhappiness and hate when we could just…tolerate each other?”
“Not everything has to be—”
“You were supposed to be on my side for this.” Your chest deflates, and you put him on speaker to apply your lipstick and put your earrings in.
“I’m always on your side, even if you think I’m not. I’ve met Chenle, too. You could’ve been much worse off for a company merger.”
“Right, so I should be grateful?” You snort. “Grateful that my husband doesn’t want to have—”
“Insufferable,” your cousin cuts you off. “You’re insufferable. The whole world is not out to get you. In the position you’re in, you need every single ally you can get. Chenle especially. He’s one of the most powerful men in the country. Imagine what that could do for you.”
“Yes, because powerful men are so enticing for me.” You roll your eyes.
“You don’t have to love him. Nobody expects that of you, but you can at least be friends with him.” Jisung clicks his tongue. “Give him a shot, okay? He’s not an asshole, and from what you’ve told me, he seems to be trying with you.”
You tap your fingers on the vanity. “I have a business meeting with him and his board. Guess I’ll see you in a few.”
“That you will. Talk to you soon.”
As the line cuts, you head out of Chenle’s—your—room, and head down the hall and out the door. Today is a new day, and the first way to present your dominance to your husband is to talk business. You’ve always been good at keeping your composure. While the buildings for your family’s company and Chenle’s were on opposite sides of town, the merger gave you unlimited access to both. Chenle was his own respective CEO, while your father still held the technical title at yours.
COO had been sitting in your pocket for years, and your father told you the only way he’d relinquish his CEO title onto you is if you married. And produced an heir without any public miscommunication. Essentially, your heir would, under no uncertain circumstances, be conceived and birthed in a conventional way.
You’re the last one to arrive in the conference room. The walls are mostly windows, overlooking the bustling city below you. You inhale deeply at the sight, and Chenle looks up at you, standing as soon as he finds you in the room. The rest of the board follows suit, and you almost scowl at the realization that the only open seat is right next to your husband. You don’t recognize any of them since this is solely for Chenle, but he insisted you were to be included on all business discussions from the moment you were married.
You stand next to Chenle, staring down at the five men around you. “Sit. Standing on my behalf is a waste of time.”
All of them listen to you, Chenle included, leaving you the lone pillar in a room full of money.
“Thank you for waiting for me.”
You don’t ever apologize for being late. Some things are out of your control. Sitting, you move your chair closer to the table. Chenle leans in, close enough for his lips to brush your ear. “I told you to just drive with me.”
You turn to him, unintentionally scanning over his face while he’s so close, and give him a small, fake smile. “And I told you I travel alone.”
It’s the first time you see annoyance pull at his brows. The only thing it does for you is make you give yourself a mental tally mark. Winning is your strong suit.
“Late on the first day isn’t a good look,” the man in the back on the right says. “It’s almost as if it’s not important to you.”
“First day?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t been involved from the moment I signed a wedding certificate.”
“That’s hardly an excuse—”
“Jaemin,” Chenle interrupts him. “It won’t happen again. Leave it alone.”
Anger bubbles in your stomach as you watch the man at the end—Jaemin—immediately back down. Your words weren’t enough, but the second Chenle opens his mouth, the argument’s over? With the group of men, you talk financials from last quarter. You follow along easily thanks to the binder of data Chenle provided you with. Stopping on the fourth page, you frown.
Leaning over to Chenle, you nudge his shoulder. When you point at the page, his eyes follow. You turn your head to whisper in his ear, “This charge isn’t itemized. Little amounts may be fine, but a $143,000 charge with no itemization from one of your departments can’t be normal.”
“You’ve got sharp eyes,” he mutters, almost appreciatively.
“Obligations make you that way,” you return, brushing your hair back as you lean against your chair. Chenle’s button-up sleeves are rolled to his elbows, the tip of his pen tapping on the table as he listens to Jisung talk.
Chenle’s smart not to bring anything up just yet, as he’s likely to do more research before asking his team what is going on with something like that. You cross your legs and listen intently, but most of it is beyond your scope in his company, anyway.
“You’ll also have to decide on new positions as well.” Another man speaks up from beside your cousin.
“And what positions are those, Mark?” Chenle asks.
“COO and CFO nominations for the board to vote.”
“There isn’t any need for nominations for COO.” Chenle frowns.
“Why’s that?” One of the men, Jeno, follows up.
“Isn’t it obvious? The only person qualified for such a role is my wife.” Chenle crosses his arms over his chest, but this time, you can’t stop your outward reaction. Your jaw drops as all eyes fall on you, and you give him an incredulous look.
“Are you serious?”
“Why is this a surprise?” he inquires, gaze meeting yours.
It’s a surprise because nowhere in your signed contract did it say you were entitled to a position of power at his company.
“(Y/N) is an excellent candidate. She’s done great things at my uncle’s company,” Jisung butts in, nodding at you. “If it were up to a vote, she’d have mine.”
“We’ll reconvene for the vote. I have several candidates for CFO listed in the binders you received today, so you may vote on those as well.” Chenle pauses. 
You don’t realize your leg bouncing up and down until his palm presses against your knee. The movement is undetectable to everyone else, but it makes every ounce of air dissipate from your lungs. You calm down in an instant, no matter how much you hate to say it, and you clench your fists together in your lap.
“For now, my wife and I are going home,” he continues. “Have a good and productive day today.”
Everyone stands as he does, and you stare at him briefly when he extends his arm out to you. In that split second, you make eye contact with Jisung, who nods in encouragement. You let out a nearly invisible sigh, but you wrap your fingers around the crook of his elbow and allow him to lead you from the room. Once you’re far enough away from everyone, he still doesn’t let you go, a somewhat proud half-smile on his face. “After you pointed out that discrepancy, I almost switched gears and made you CFO instead.”
“You’ll learn quite fast that numbers aren’t really my strong suit.” You don’t even attempt to remove your grip on him. “My attention to detail makes up for the…lack of numerical intelligence.”
“I hope I didn’t take you too off-guard.” He opens the door to the building, disconnecting your arms to place his hand on the small of your back to guide you.
“Please.” You chuckle and shake your head. “You? Take me off-guard?”
“Competitive, too, huh?” He raises an eyebrow at you as he glances around at the different people with cameras surrounding you. Whether to keep you away from them or to keep up appearances, his hand slides from your back to your hip, gently pulling you closer to his side.
“Let’s just say I stopped being invited to family game night,” you admit.
Once the two of you make it to the car, you barely realize you’re disobeying your own rule of traveling alone. He grasps your hand to help you into the backseat, ignoring the flashing lights behind him as he watches you slide over.
He gets in after you, closing the door with a huff. “That’ll be a headline tomorrow.”
“You helping me into the car?”
“You smiled at me.”
“We’re married.”
“Nobody believes it.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.
After a moment of your silence, he reaches over to grab your hand. You surprise even yourself when you allow him.
“I’m sorry. It’s not your problem. And it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks.”
“Don’t apologize.” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter, Chenle. We’ll get our…obligations out of the way, and then you can find the love you claim you want.”
His jaw tightens as he looks forward, his grip on you loosening. “Right.”
“Why?” you ask. “Why is that what you want? With me, or with anyone.”
“Love is good for you.” He shrugs. “To have someone who actually cares for you more than themselves just because they want to. Ever since I was young, I wanted to marry for love, but I’d always understood it wasn’t in the cards for me. But I figured I’d at least be able to try. With whoever it was, at least I’d be able to try to be a proper husband.”
There’s much more complexity behind Chenle than what you initially gave him credit for. You figured he’d be the typical CEO, a man high on power who will do everything and anything to not only keep it, but to grow his influence. The version of him you see now doesn’t support that original thought, but you have a hard time believing it.
“Life is already dull and loveless as it is. Rich families don’t exactly enjoy time with their relatives. I figured you, of all people, would understand where I’m coming from in that aspect.” He fidgets with his wedding band. “I don’t want to bring children into a world where they won’t be loved.”
“You think I wouldn’t love my own children?” you ask.
“That’s not what I said.” He glances at you. “Children deserve a complete family. One with parents who not only love them, but each other. I didn’t have that growing up, and I refuse to put anyone else through it.”
“I see.” You understand his point all too well, but you don’t see the big deal. Even if you two were in love and had children, wouldn’t you still have nannies and cooks and all of the things that you had as a child?
“Again, I’m not forcing you into anything. So, you don’t have to try with me if you don’t want to. But I’m not searching for it somewhere else. Since we…are obligated to have children, I wouldn’t put them through a situation where they view their father as a cheater. When I signed that contract and the marriage certificate, I signed my life away to you. Sure, it wasn’t in a traditional way or necessarily…by choice, but we’re here.”
“Wow, you sure know how to woo a woman.”
“You’ve made your stance clear. All I ask is that whoever you…” he trails off and scoffs. “Whoever you decide to be with, you keep them away from any future children. And we’ll never force them into a marriage like this.”
“You want our children to marry for love?”
“Of course, I do.” He nods.
“Chenle, I…”
This time, you reach over to him to stop his excessive movement. The second your fingers wrap around his wrist, he stops.
“I think the same way you do. Hopefully, we respect each other enough not to be caught. Publicly or by children.”
“So, you really…There’s no chance? Of anything real between us?”
Your heart comes to a dead-stop in your chest, and the word ‘no’ hangs on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to actually say it. It’s one simple syllable, but it’s so heavy in your mouth, you fear opening it will wreak havoc.
“I…I don’t know,” you reply, gulping.
He turns his hand so your palms are touching, and then he squeezes you gently. “All I ask is that you keep an open mind. It’s okay to let yourself have things you want, too. Not everything has to be an obligation.”
Before you can speak, the driver is opening the door for you and Chenle to get out. The two of you make your way into the house, but you’re honestly not sure where to go from here. You head upstairs toward the master bedroom to take off your dress.
“(Y/N),” Chenle calls, stopping you in your tracks. He continues, “I have to get clothes to change into. They’re still all in the master, but I’ll have the staff move them by the end of the week.”
You wet your lips. Standing on the third stair makes you taller than him, and he looks up at you with only kindness behind his brown eyes. You want to hate him. Or to only tolerate him. But through the moments of kindness, you know he’s the type of man you could be friends with. You could—
You stop that thought before it completes. “It’s your house. Do whatever you need to.”
He joins you on the third step and leans closer to you. “Wrong.”
“Wrong?” You tilt your head.
“Remember that everything I have is yours, too. This house belongs to you just as much as it belongs to me. As much as you hate to think so, I know you, (Y/N). The ball is in your court. You make the decisions around here, whether it’s what color the walls are or twenty kids running around the hallways. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen.”
You gape at him, face red as he leans away from you and continues up the stairs without looking back at you. Once he’s far enough away, you clear your throat and pat your cheeks. Regaining your composure, you follow him up and find him working on the buttons of his shirt, his tie discarded on the bed.
“Does this bother you?” he asks. “I can go.”
“What makes you think it bothers me?”
“You’re staring.”
You head over to the closet instead of responding to him, more than ready to put pants on instead of the dress that’s much too tight for comfort. Once you’ve picked out your new clothes, you stay where you’re at and reach behind you for the zipper. After a few moments of struggling with it, you finally give up and decide to use your resources.
“Chenle?” you call out.
When he appears in the doorway, his shirt is absent, and you were pretty sure he’d been wearing a belt before. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans against the frame, awaiting you to tell him what you need. You don’t have to actually speak. Instead, you turn your back to him and pull your hair over your shoulder. He hums behind you, keeping a respectable amount of distance before he grips the zipper.
“What did you do before me?” he asks, hesitant to pull it down.
“Staff.” You shrug. “But I mostly wore things I knew I’d be able to—”
The familiar sound and the rush of cool air against your heated skin as he reveals more of you has your breath catching in your throat. You cut yourself off, immediately reaching up to hold the dress to your chest.
“I’m a very accommodating man, (Y/N).” His voice sinks into every inch of you. “If you need something, tell me. I’m your husband. It’s quite literally my job to ensure you’re happy, darling.”
The heat radiating from his bare skin so close to yours has every thought in your brain flying away. Logically, there’d be nothing wrong with giving in to your temptation. It’d been a long time since anyone had touched you, and the man behind you is your husband. Physical attraction had nothing to do with emotions or feelings, so it was okay. One thing you’d never be able to deny is how he’s one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. Your parents could’ve chosen much, much worse for you.
His voice centimeters from your ear startles you out of your trance. He says, “I wonder what you’re thinking about. You seem a bit distracted.”
“Wouldn’t you love to know.”
“Truly.”
“I need to change.”
“Do you?” He trails a finger up your spine. “You’re so soft. What an odd comparison to that steel wall you’re forcing yourself to keep up.”
“I think you’re forgetting your own boundaries.” You clench your fist into the fabric of your dress. “This wouldn’t be real.”
“What even is this?” His breath fans across your neck, and you’re sure you feel the sublest brush of his lips on your skin. “Tell me where you think this is going. After all, I’m helping you with your dress like a good husband.”
“My dress was dealt with minutes ago.”
“Darling.” He tsks. “If your dress was dealt with already, it would be long, long gone.”
Even like this, you refuse to let him win. If this were to be the extent of your relationship with Chenle, you’d be fine with that. You crave satisfaction, and you also know this is a means to an end. This may be the key to giving your family those fucking heirs they want so badly. In a bold move, you release your grip on the fabric and allow it to crumple at your feet.
“What?” You tilt your head, grinning when his breathing halts. “Are you the only one who can deliver?”
He places his hand on your hip. “Can I touch you here?”
“Mhm,” you inhale sharply when he squeezes, trying your best not to roll back against him.
“Here?” he whispers, splaying his fingers out along your stomach.
“What’s your goal?” you ask, looking back at him over your shoulder. “You seem like you want something from me.”
His face is much too close to yours, but for some reason, it does little to bother you. When his lips part, you don’t mean to squirm in his touch. His eyes sweep over your expression, his touch edging just a little further downward until he can play with the lace hem of your panties.
“I’ve told you what I want already.” His gaze locks on your mouth. “Everything. I want it all.”
You gulp, unable to speak for fear of making a fool of yourself.
“What about me makes this hard for you?” he asks.
Despite the softness of his voice, your proximity to him means you see the hint of hurt swimming around in his dark irises. The heat of his bare skin on yours has everything inside you awakening, but you can’t give him what he wants.
“The choice is yours.” He takes a deep breath. “Going forward, the choice is always yours to make. I’m yours in any way you want me.”
The atmosphere around you is so warm, charged, you can’t help the way you struggle to breathe. You lean closer to him, and when your lips brush his, his grip around you tightens. Before he’s able to initiate a real kiss, a knock sounds on the bedroom door.
“Mr. Zhong, you have a visitor.”
“God damn it,” he curses under his breath, annoyance replacing whatever vulnerability you’d just seen. Stepping away from you, he grabs a shirt for you and hands it to you.
You accept it quickly, embarrassment flooding through your system as reality sets in and you realize what you’d done. He stops in the doorway, stealing one more glance at you before he runs his fingers through his hair and walks out.
“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, patting your cheeks.
Your skin where he touched you suddenly feels much too cold, and you give yourself a few moments to calm down as you search for a pair of pants to put on. You pick your dress up off the floor and put it with your dirty laundry. You tie your hair up to get yourself to cool down, and then you follow Chenle out to see who saved you from making a decision you wouldn’t be able to come back from.
“You came all the way here to deliver a report?” Chenle’s voice cuts through the air before you’re able to see him, and you hear the agitation flooding through it.
You round the corner and stop at the top of the stairs, finding Chenle in the foyer with one of the men from the meeting earlier standing right inside the doorway with a binder. He’d slipped his shirt back on, retucked it, and even rolled his sleeves up. His hands are deep in his pockets.
“It couldn’t wait,” the man says.
“There are plenty of things that can’t wait in this world, and they wait anyway, Jeno.” Chenle shifts on his feet. “But you’re here, so give it to me.”
Jeno hands Chenle the binder, and he opens it. At the realization of what it is, the latter’s eyes close.
“You’re telling me that this has been going on for years?”
“Before you were even CEO, yes.” Jeno nods.
“My father knows about this?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What is your father supposed to know about?” you ask, finally making your presence known as you make your way down the stairs.
Chenle turns to you, his jaw clenching as his gaze travels on its own accord. “The amount you pointed out earlier. It’s not just one payment. There’s…an entire binder full of payments to someone that aren’t accounted for. That’s $143,000 a quarter, for longer than I’ve even been able to—”
“Should she really be involved in this?” Jeno grabs Chenle’s arm.
“She’s the COO of the company.” Chenle frowns at the other man. “And she’s my wife. If this is going on, it affects her, too.”
The other man releases him, and you join Chenle at his side. At this point, even pressing your arm against his is far too much contact for you, yet you crave it all the same.
“It’s new for them,” you remind your husband. “They’re not used to me yet. They’ll learn in due time.”
“Right.”
You hold your hand out for the reports, and he gives it to you. You flip through, noting the dates corresponding with the payments.
“I wouldn’t bring it up to your father,” you mention.
“What?” Chenle recoils. “Why not?”
“These charges have been happening for years,” you point out. “There’s a chance he might know about them. That he could be the one—”
“That’s impossible,” Chenle interrupts you, his posture immediately straightening out as he stands rigid.
“It’s not.” You keep your voice soft in an attempt to neutralize the situation, and you reach for his wrist. “All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t rule anyone out. We need to keep this within a circle while we do research. No one else can know that this has even been caught.”
As soon as your fingers wrap around him, the tension in his body melts away. He lets out a sigh, wets his lips, and nods. “You’re right. We’ll look into it.” He turns to Jeno. “No one can know about this. This stays between the three of us.”
“Of course,” Jeno confirms. “I’ll leave you with that information now. Have a good night, you two.”
“Thanks,” Chenle says.
Jeno leaves, the echo of the door closing behind him leaving you and Chenle draped in an awkward silence. You place the binder on the table on the glass table, turning to face your husband.
“Are you alright?” Chenle asks.
“Me?” You raise your eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He gives you a pointed look, one that tells you he’s in no way wanting to beat around the bush. “Don’t do that.”
“I’m…okay, yes. Maybe a little flustered, but I didn’t…hate what happened, if that’s what you’re asking.” You avoid his gaze, rolling your eyes as you stare off past him to the ornate details of the front door.
“We’re married,” he points out.
“Yes, I’m acutely aware of that fact, thank you.” Your fingers find the band of your wedding ring.
He pauses, but his gaze leaves goosebumps all over your body as he trails over you. “It’s clear we’re…attracted to each other. And you’re still sure you’d rather not attempt a real relationship.”
“We’ve talked about this.” You glance around, like the staff overhearing is the most embarrassing thing you’ll deal with.
“Not enough.”
“What else could we possibly add to that?”
“I don’t want us to tolerate each other, (Y/N). At the very least, we should try to be friends.” He takes a step closer to you.
You’ve been confronted by a lot of men in your life. There have been even more men who doubted your abilities, but none of them had ever intimidated you. Chenle, standing in front of you with a determined look on his face, intimidates you. A part of you—no matter how small it may be—knows he’s everything he says he is and more. He could give you the life you’ve always wanted, but you’re sure you don’t deserve it. Not until you’ve fulfilled your portion of the contract and take your place as CEO. Only then can you allow yourself to let go.
“Do you want me?” he asks. “In any way?”
“I don’t want to,” you tell him honestly. “But I do.”
“When we were on our honeymoon, or the semblance of whatever that was, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how we were forced into this arrangement, yet none of it…None of it feels wrong. You may not have paid me much attention beforehand, but for years before we were ever to be married, I’ve admired you. Your willpower and the way you hold your own. The independence you have. Your autonomy. I envy you.”
“Why? Why envy me?”
“Look at yourself.” Chenle puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to look into the floor-length mirrors against the wall. “I’m not talking about how beautiful you are, even though that’s definitely an added bonus. I mean the utter tenacity you have flowing through your veins. The way you can command attention the second you walk into a room. How you’re unafraid to put men with decades of more experience in their places. You are…unapologetically yourself. This life, one of business, is significantly easier for me as a man, yet you’ve absolutely bulldozed everyone in your way.”
“Chenle—”
“I’m not done.” He taps his fingers against you.
Seeing him standing behind you in these mirrors is making your heart race, your brain jolting with electricity, and inexplicable thoughts running around your mind. He looks good like this. He watches you fondly, the admiration in his gaze evident.
“But you’re honest, too. With your intentions and with the way you want to live your life. I wish you’d give me the chance to prove how things could be, but like I said before, these choices are yours alone. Don’t get that confused with me not wanting to try. Because I’ll keep trying as long as you want me in…whatever way.”
You turn to him, craning your neck to look at him with your hands flat on his chest. “I’m beginning to think you’re crazy.”
“If trying to give my wife the life she deserves is crazy, then I’ll gladly claim that title.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Something tells me you might come around someday.”
“I wish you saw things the way I do,” you mutter.
“I think the same way. But as much as I understand your fears, they shouldn’t hinder you in your life. You’re allowed to explore all aspects. Business. Joy. Intimacy. Love.”
“And you’re an expert on intimacy?” You raise your eyebrows.
“Expert might be a strong word, but I won’t ever lie to you. I’ve been in love in the past and gotten hurt because of it. But every heartbreak is worth it if it leads you to the person you were made for.” His hands slide to your hips, fingertips barely applying any pressure. “If we find we’re not good for each other, I’d let you go. You’re bound to me in a legal sense only. Paper. It means nothing unless we make it mean something.”
“You…scare me,” you breathe out. “This scares me.”
“We’re doing something right, then.” He lets out a short chuckle. “But I like this. Being close to you. Knowing that we’d be so much better as a team than as roommates.”
“I’ve always worked alone.”
“Does that mean you’ve never been in love?”
You shake your head. “Never. I don’t give myself the time to feel things like that.”
“So, feel.” His finger brushes below your chin, angling you so your eyes meet his. “Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”
“I—”
“Don’t think. Feel.”
“I…I’m nervous. You can’t be real. I’ve only been burned in the past, but it feels like you’d…just keep me warm. I don’t know if I want that.” You gulp past the unexplainable lump in your throat. “It’s…overwhelming.”
“What can I do to help you?” Chenle asks. “Whatever you need. Tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”
“You.” Your voice almost refuses to work. “I want you, but I…I need time to see if that’s really it or if I’m tricking myself in order to fulfill these stupid obligations set for me.”
“Which obligations?”
“Heirs.” You avert your gaze, but he gently pulls you right back.
“Take whatever time you need. I mean it. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to push you into any situations like that.” He reaches up and plays with a strand of your hair. “But there are…plenty of ways to explore that side of our relationship without pregnancy being a risk. Or a reward, if that’s what you view it as.”
Your face burns. Never before has a man made you blush.
“With that in the open, does removing the pregnancy factor make you want me any less?”
You contemplate. While you’d love to say that portion of your contract was the last thing on your mind, you thought of it frequently. But thoughts of what he’s mentioning has your insides twisting and turning in every way, with or without heirs being involved. When he touched you earlier, his hands on your bare skin, that genuinely wasn’t a thought. You want him for personal gain, but not in the way you originally assumed.
“Never less,” you murmur. The warmth around you becomes unbearable, yet you still find yourself shivering. “I think we need to come back to this at a different time.”
“Of course.” He takes a step back, allowing cool air to rush over you. Grabbing the binder from the table, he gestures for you to follow him into his office. “Shall we move on to some numbers, then?”
Finally, you laugh shortly. “Yeah. Yes, that sounds good.”
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After two hours of studying the documents, spreadsheets, and all the other information Jeno brought for Chenle, the two of you have gotten as far as discovering the payments were sent to the same bank account. Stress is written across his face, and eventually, you slide the binder away from him.
“You’re going to run yourself into the ground,” you scold him. “It’s time for a break.”
“What time is it?” he asks, massaging his forehead.
“Almost 8pm.” You lean back in your chair and cross your legs.
His lips part in shock, and he checks his watch. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t even…you haven’t eaten yet.”
“Neither have you,” you point out.
“We’ve already established that you’re more important.” He lets out a sigh, partially filled with frustration. “You know what? Why don’t you get changed and we’ll go out?”
“Together?” Your eyes widen.
“We’re married. It’d be weird if we went by ourselves.”
“Right, of course. Um, anything in particular I should wear?”
“The choice is yours.” He grins, and like it’s the easiest thing in the world, robs all of the oxygen from your lungs. You realize then that you don’t see him smile much, but the pang in your heart can only mean you want to see it over and over again.
“Okay.” You nod and stand. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Take your time. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“You sure you don’t want to pick?” you offer one last time.
“While that would honestly be an honor, darling, I’m trying to prove a point here.” He lifts himself to his feet and reaches across the desk to close the binder. “I could use a drink.”
You give him a small smile before you exit his office. Once he’s out of sight, you practically bound up the stairs. You’d been on dates before, sure, but this feels different. You know better than to let yourself look too far ahead, so once you’re in your closet, you want to make sure you wear something nice. You pick a dress you’re sure you can get yourself out of. Unlike your outfit from earlier, this one isn’t as tight to your figure, and the soft color matches you well. For business meetings, you only wear black. Wearing bright colors hasn’t ever brought you success, but you figure you can wear the purple for a date with your husband.
A date. Is it a date?
That part of it doesn’t matter. This dress makes you feel good about yourself, truly. Disgust immediately sends a shiver down your spine when you realize you’re beginning to ponder how Chenle will perceive you. He’s a man. You could wear a trash bag and he’d think you did something revolutionary. Brushing the skirt of your dress off, you grab a pair of heels, slide them on, and head back down the stairs. He waits by the door, his suit jacket back on and buttoned in the middle. He turns at the sound of your shoes on the floor, and he freezes in his spot.
“What?” you inquire.
“I just…I’ve never seen you in that color before.” He clears his throat, but his cheeks tinge with a light, barely noticeable pink. “You…it suits you well.”
“Thank you.” Before you attempt to leave the door, he grabs your jacket from the rack and drapes it over your shoulders.
“It’s cold, darling,” he mutters, making sure the fabric is secure on your shoulders.
“You don’t think it ruins the outfit?”
“Not a chance. Jacket or not, it’s my favorite of yours.”
“Relax with the compliments. You’re making me blush.” You brush your fingertips against his shoulder and exit the house.
“My hard work is paying off. Good to know.” He closes the door behind him and guides you to the car with his hand on the small of your back. “I’ll stop with the compliments if you ever stop deserving them. Which I doubt will happen, by the way.”
The drive is thirty minutes, and the city is still bustling by the time Chenle is helping you out of the car. His palm against yours makes your stomach flip, and you’re beginning to hate this effect he has on you. It seems like it hit you out of nowhere, and you’d prefer if it were to sink back into the depths of hell where it came from in the first place. But before you know it, you’re a glass and a half deep of wine, you’ve eaten enough pasta to get you through the night, and Chenle’s in the exact same boat you’re in. Between the two of you, you’ve finished a bottle, and it seems as if your husband is debating ordering another one.
You hide a laugh with another sip from your glass and shake your head. “I cannot believe we’re this out of order.”
“The order doesn’t matter as long as the end result is desirable. Isn’t that true?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.
“Mm, I’ve always been an order of operations girl. Everything has to happen in the exact right way.” You set your drink down and rest your head on your palm.
“I just realized I know…nothing about your past. Please, tell me what the younger version of you was like. What kind of trouble did you get into?”
“Wow, what makes you assume I got into trouble?” you tease him, unable to fight your smile.
He sucks in a deep breath and pats his legs. “God, I’m not sure. It couldn’t be the way you never take no for an answer or how you absolutely run over everyone in your way.”
“I’ll have you know that I am a very composed human.” You run your tongue over your teeth.
“I’d expect nothing less, to be honest.” He gives you a soft smile. “And for the record, I enjoy those qualities. There aren’t many people in this world that would be unafraid of calling me out if I’m doing something wrong.”
“You mean earlier.”
“I mean in general, but that does apply, yes.”
“I only want to be a balance for you.” You look down at the red liquid in your cup. “We’re meant to complement each other now, yeah?”
“I think we were the most strategic pair…ever.” Chenle nods.
“Can I be honest with you?” You take another sip.
“Absolutely.”
“You asked me earlier what about you makes this situation hard. Or what about you makes it hard for me to…let go of certain views.” You clear your throat, dreading the conversation more than you’d care to admit. “I feel like it’s…because a part of me knows the greatness we’d be capable of together. But I’ve worked hard to build my own greatness, and I can almost guarantee the second this becomes real, my greatness becomes ours.”
“Ah.” He purses his lips. “I won’t lie to you. There will be people that see it that way. But by being married to me, those people already exist.”
“I’m not talking about other people. I don’t care about them or their opinions.” You finish off your glass.
“You…you mean me?” His eyes widen in shock.
“That is a fear I have.”
He flounders for a second, and he scrambles for words for the first time all day. “I’m sorry, I just…I’m not sure if there’s anything I can say to make this better. I…(Y/N), I know my promises probably don’t mean much to you at this point, but I’d never discount you like that. Or take credit for anything you’ve done. How can I make that clearer?”
“It’s not your issue to correct.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “It’s mine. And I don’t say it to make you feel responsible, but as a forewarning, I guess. Being a woman and working my way to the top just to have…this thrust upon me is a little redundant.”
“You never wanted to marry in the first place.” It’s not a question.
“That’s correct.”
He blows out a long breath and looks down at his hands, twisting the wedding band on his finger. “You never saw this in the cards for you.”
“I knew I’d eventually have to marry for company purposes. My father would never let himself die before he knows I’ve carried on his line.” You snort and shake your head. “But I figured all of these types of marriages were the same. People signed their paperwork and barely acknowledged each other unless it was to reproduce.”
Chenle lets out a laugh. “Your word choice is interesting.”
“Shut up, you know what I mean.” You cover your mouth as you join him in laughter. “I just never thought you’d be…you.”
“I live to prove to you that you can have everything. We can be happy, have a real family, and still be at the top of our field. Both independently and together.”
Fortunately for the both of you, Chenle doesn’t order the second bottle of wine. Instead, he pays the bill and leads you from the restaurant with his arm wrapped around your waist. He opens the car door for you, and as you place your hand in his to enter, he squeezes your hand gently. Once you get home, the two of you separate at the top of the stairs, him heading off to a spare room down the hall while you step into the room that technically belongs to him. You change without interrupt, your silk nightgown soft on your skin as you climb into bed.
You stare up at the ceiling, tracing along it with your eyes as if you were drawing a map. Where the destinations were you had yet to figure out, but you imagined a whole new world up there, one where you didn’t have to have this wall up. One where you didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for a shred of respect you more than deserve. One where you didn’t have to be scared of what Chenle was trying to offer you.
You sigh, clutching the blanket to your chest. The wine has since settled in your system, yet your blood still runs warm. The map on the ceiling becomes mountains, oceans, continents. It forms real shapes, real geography in your mind, but you find the destination right in the middle is where you truly want to be. When you look at your phone, the time is already past 2 a.m., and you’re not anywhere near tired. You’re startled by the knock. You shuffle out of bed, crossing your arms over your chest as you crack the door open slightly.
Chenle stands there, hands buried deep in his sweatpants. His eyes sweep over you as you open the door wider.
“You’re up,” he comments.
“I couldn’t sleep.” You shrug. “You’re up. And here.”
“I was hoping I could talk to you.” He pauses. “I can’t stop thinking, and I just really don’t want to be alone right now.”
Your heart skips a beat. As much as you hate it, warmth spreads through your entire being at the thought of his first idea being you.
“This is your room, Chenle. I’m not going to tell you you can’t come in your own bedroom.” You step back to give him space to walk in, but he stays put outside, staring at you as if he’s seeing straight into your soul. You give him a pointed look, but give in. “Yes, it’s okay for you to come in here. I’d prefer company as well.”
He shuffles past you, tiredness clearly weighing down as the bottoms of his feet slide across the hardwood floor. You watch him closely, admiring him. Quickly, you realize that he fits into any room he walks in. He belongs anywhere and everywhere, and within moments, he makes you feel something you’ve only ever been able to provide for yourself until this moment—safe.
“Sorry,” he whispers with a sigh. “I need to stop thinking.”
“Trust me, I get it. Me too.” You stand with your arms still crossed over your chest and you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
“I shouldn’t bore you.” He waves you off and sits on the edge of his bed. “How are you adjusting?”
“I’m okay. I’m not complaining about my accommodations.” You move and sit next to him, putting your hand on his knee. “You won’t bore me. If something’s bothering you, I want to try and help.”
His eyes sparkle even in the dark. The landscapes of the map you drew reflect in his gaze, and you swear you see every mountain, every body of water, entire worlds forming in his irises. How have you never seen this before? Why are you seeing it now?
“The payments,” he murmurs. “The idea that my father might know about them. Might be facilitating them. It’s driving me up a fucking wall.”
“When I said that, I didn’t mean to upset you.” You reach over and grab his hand. “We just need to take precaution when it comes to situations like this. If it is him and he knows we’re onto him, it might be…a bigger issue than it needs to be.”
“I know that. I guess it’s the idea that he’d be capable of something like that.” Chenle stares down at the way your thumb traces against his skin.
“You look up to him.”
“I did. I do. A lot, actually, so this seems so…backwards. That’s a lot of money per quarter, you know? I could only imagine what it’s going towards.” He turns his hand around so your palms are touching, and he gently intertwines your fingers. “Sorry, I should’ve asked if this was okay.”
“It’s more than okay. Don’t worry about me. Keep talking.”
“My parents never really loved each other. They grew to love their life together, but not each other. And despite that, I had a decent time growing up. They were good parents to me, and that’s what truly matters at the end of the day, but it makes me wonder if they’re…not these great people I’ve made them out to be in my head.” He lets out a short chuckle. “This sounds pathetic.”
“Hey.” Before you realize what you’re doing, you reach up to cup his cheek and bring his gaze back to yours. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not pathetic. These are valid concerns, and if you’ve been lied to for this long, you have every right to be upset.”
You’re so distracted by him, you barely even recognize the softness of his face. Your thumb runs gently along his cheekbone, and you watch as the frown fades from his features. Something you can’t recognize forms behind his irises, yet it still feels familiar. How do you explain how the normal beat of your heart hurts? How do you tell him that seeing him upset like this feels like needles running along your skin?
“My father would tell me I was foolish for hoping for love,” Chenle whispers. “He said it was a waste of time, since any man as busy as we are just isn't suited for it. For families.”
“If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I would’ve agreed with him.” You squeeze his hand and give him a small smile.
“Something changed?” he asked.
“I don’t think that way anymore,” you admit. “Now, I’ve realized it’s about the amount of effort someone is willing to put in. It has nothing to do with time. We make time for those we care about.”
He leans into your touch as his eyes flutter shut. You admire the angelic glow the stars leave on his skin, and despite how tired he is, he’s still so fucking beautiful. Your throat dries at the sight, and you hate how it feels like your insides are at war.
“I like this,” he tells you. “Being with you like this.”
“Me, too.” You smile, even though he can’t see you. “You should try and sleep though. You’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”
His chest visibly deflates, and he places his hand on top of yours to pull it away from his face. “Of course. I…I’ll get going.”
You recoil, but you don’t let go of his other hand. “Oh. Is that what you want?” Nerves crawl around in your stomach. You figured he’d stay with you tonight, in his own bed. That maybe the two of you would learn to be better comforted by each other’s presence.
“You’re tired, and I’m keeping you up. I was inconsiderate.” He clears his throat.
“No, no,” you quickly interject. “That’s not what I meant at all. I’m only worried about you, so I was hoping you’d stay with me.”
“In here?” he asks.
You nod. “Yes. If it were my choice, you’d stay.”
“Damn, you got me there.” He delivers a tired grin and ultimately agrees. “I’d love that, (Y/N). Truly.”
You let him settle in beneath the comforter first, and he lifts it to allow you room to slide in next to him. Neither of you say anything else, but things seem to fall together naturally. He opens his arms, you push yourself against his chest, and then he wraps you up tightly in his warm embrace. He smells faintly of cologne, a soft, woody scent that engulfs you pleasantly. Despite the way you failed to fall asleep earlier, you struggle to remember a time you’d ever fallen into your dream world faster.
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When you wake without Chenle in the morning, you’re sure you dreamed the last portion of the night. That is, until you see that it’s almost 10 am. You gasp and launch yourself out of bed. You never sleep in this late, so you quickly dress yourself and get ready for the day. Chenle’s side of the bed is mussed, so you determine it was, indeed, not a dream, and you make sure you look as presentable as your normal standard before you go downstairs to find where your husband disappeared to. The smell of breakfast emanates from the kitchen, so you naturally gravitate that way. When you step into the room, you’re taken aback by the company present. Not just your own parents, but Chenle’s as well. Your husband stands at the end of the table, clearly stressed with all of the people in your kitchen. He notices you first and breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of you.
“Wow,” you say as you approach Chenle and stand next to him. “Were we expecting everyone today?”
“Nope.” He chuckles and, much to apparently both of your surprises, he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Everyone showed up an hour or so ago.”
Through the burning of your cheeks, your gaze shoots up to his and you lower your voice. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You looked really comfortable.” He shrugs.
“(Y/N), Chenle was just telling us that you’re accepting the COO position at his company,” your mother butts in. Of course, business talk immediately.
“Yes, we—”
“Isn’t that a little early? And don’t you have enough responsibilities as COO of my company?” your father grumbles, and you already start to shrink into yourself in his presence.
“She’s more than capable,” Chenle defends you. “If I didn’t think she could handle it, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“Don’t interrupt their family discussions, Chenle, that’s rude,” his mother scolds him.
“This marriage was a merger, was it not?” Chenle raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that technically make our families interconnected now?”
“We’ll consider them officially connected when she’s had her first child.” Your father points his finger at you. “Speaking of which, what’s taking so long?”
Your jaw drops, and you shift uncomfortably. It’s one thing to talk about your husband getting you pregnant with your own father, but him being so comfortable spitting things out like that in front of Chenle’s parents as well has you feeling queasy.
“We’ve been married for two months.”
“Your mother was pregnant after three weeks.”
“I don’t really want to hear about you impregnating my mother—”
“You’re making excuses, (Y/N), you know what’s on the line here.” Your father tsks at you, sipping from his water glass.
“Sir, all due respect, but it’s not like we knew each other very well. We’re both still getting comfortable with each other. And we’re young. We have plenty of time to have children.” As soon as the words leave Chenle’s mouth, you reach over and grasp his hand. It’s not visible below the table, but he squeezes you in reassurance.
“And what happens if she were to die tomorrow? My bloodline dies with her?” Your father narrows his eyes at Chenle. Your heart sinks in your chest, and you scratch your forehead.
“Even if she were to be pregnant, if she died tomorrow there wouldn’t be an heir either way,” your husband replies.
“Is there a reason we’re having such a lovely family reunion?” you butt in, hoping to curve their conversation.
“Do we need a reason to visit our daughter?” your mother asks.
“Typically, yes.” You shrug. “You never show up unannounced.”
“Oh, I take it they haven’t seen the tabloids,” Chenle’s father mentions.
You stand from your spot and pull your phone out of your pocket to check. You hear Chenle whisper something to the group before he pushes his chair back to join you. Despite the anxiety crawling up your spine, the warmth of him right behind you calms you.
“They came here because there’s a couple articles of people being shocked that we like each other?” you hiss, tossing your phone on the counter.
“Breathe,” Chenle tells you, putting his hands on your shoulders. “They’ll eventually leave us alone, but we’ve got to placate them for now.”
“Placate them?” You turn to him and raise your eyebrow. “You exchanged words with my father.”
“He said stupid things.” Chenle shrugs.
You chuckle. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ah, but you said the people are surprised we like each other, so I’m assuming you enjoy how ridiculous I am.” He bites back a grin when he sees you blush.
“God, you’ve got to stop doing that.” You push gently at his chest and walk back to your parents and your in-laws.
“I’m not sure this is really something that should have blame assigned,” Chenle’s mother says. “I’ve seen married couples go years without children.”
You curse under your breath. Of course, this is still the topic of conversation.
“That’s not how it works in this family. Heirs come first immediately after marriage.” Your mother sips from a champagne flute.
“Well, that’s hardly Chenle’s fault—”
“He’s a man. How hard is it to impregnate a woman?” Your mother scoffs. “Please, she’s not ugly by any means.”
“Mother, dear God,” you snap. “Why in the world are we still talking about this?”
“I’m sorry, are you questioning my son’s…viability?” Chenle’s father narrows his eyes.
You want to combust into flames right then and there. The immediate assumption that the reason behind you not being with child yet is that Chenle simply can’t get it up. How fucking great.
“I’m just saying, there were other men contending for a contract that were more than willing—”
“That’s enough,” you shout.
You have four shocked faces staring at you, and you feel Chenle go rigid behind you.
“I am beyond tired of this conversation already. We’ve only been married for two months, and that’s just not enough time. I barely even knew him when I married him, and we’re trying to do this the normal way. As normally as we can.” You pause. “I’m the one that wants to wait. And it is a want, not a necessity, so neither of us are…sexually dysfunctional.”
Chenle holds back a laugh behind you, but four sets of eyes are still on you. And while it’s technically not the truth—as you’ve stated multiple times you’d be okay with having an heir quickly—you’d rather this portion of it fall on you than on him. Your parents would lose their minds.
“And let’s not forget that (Y/N) is a human with a career that’s just as important as mine,” your husband adds. “Having a child at this time could put her back immensely after all the hard work she’s put in. If she wants to wait, nobody should have a say in that other than her.”
With every word coming out of Chenle’s mouth, he gets more and more attractive to you. You wish today had been a simple morning, truly. One where you’d wake up with him next to you and he’d hold you for however long the two of you could stand to stay still for.
“You should be happy we’re trying to do this properly.” You cross your arms over your chest.
“Love is a waste of time in a business arrangement.” Your father sets his empty water glass on the table.
“I agree. It’s better to get the obligations out of the way first, and then worry about trying to create something real,” Chenle’s father agrees.
“Right, because that worked out so well for you,” Chenle says.
Today was going to be a long, long day.
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Your parents and in-laws stayed for another hour, and then they (thankfully) willingly left on their own accord. As soon as Chenle closes the door behind his parents, you sigh in relief and slump your back against the counter. He approaches you without a word, and almost like it’s instinct, you wrap your arms around him. Running his fingers through your hair, he holds you as close as he can.
“I’m sorry my parents implied you’re impotent,” you mutter, and you and Chenle burst into laughter at the same time.
“Wow. Clearly the only two options for an explanation as to why you’re not pregnant within two months are impotency or your husband not finding you attractive. Which, for the record, neither of those are an issue.”
“Gross. But thanks, I think?” You lean back slightly to look at him and find him smiling at you.
“Just being honest. If I was impotent, I would’ve told you before we married for business purposes. And if you don’t know how attractive you are at this point, that would be one of the world’s biggest mysteries.” He pulls you to him until your chest presses against his. “But, since I was so rudely torn away from my beautiful wife this morning by our nosy, no fucking good parents dropping in like we’re fifteen years old, I wanted to thank you for last night. Since I couldn’t earlier.”
“Thank me?” You frown and tilt your head.
“I needed that. I didn’t even know it, but I needed it,” Chenle tells you.
“Of course,” you murmur. “You never have to be alone for those moments.”
“Just for those moments?” He fakes a pout. “Does that mean I have to go back to my own room?”
You give him a pointed look, and then pretend to be lost in thought momentarily. “Pretty sure that’s only when you make me mad. I guess married couples argue and then the wives send the husbands to the couch. But in this case, there’s an extra bedroom. Or twenty.”
“Can I…can I try something?” he asks, the tips of his ears turning red.
“Yeah.” You nod.
“Close your eyes,” he mutters.
If he was anyone else, you’d be asking a million questions. But this is Chenle, and you’ve grown to realize he’s exactly who he said he is. You trust him inexplicably.
“Wow,” he says. “Not even a sarcastic comment. I think I’m winning you over.”
You open one eye, push at his shoulder, and then close it again. You’re more than tempted to open them again when his hands cup your cheeks. His thumbs caress your skin, and your breath gets caught in your throat. Your heart races in anticipation as you await his next move, craving whatever it is he wants to give you. You gasp quietly when you feel his lips brush yours, and your body tenses.
“Relax,” he whispers. “It’s me.”
You don’t give him the opportunity to finish closing the distance between you two. You do it for him. Pushing yourself forward, you seal the kiss with him quickly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. He curses against you, and you follow suit when he wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you onto the counter. For a brief moment, he pulls away from you, chest heaving as he pants.
“Chenle.” You hate that it comes out as a whimper, but you love the way he reacts to it.
He kisses you again, harder this time while one of his hands tangles in your hair and the other sits on your thigh where the hem of your dress is. Instinctively, to make your dress ride up your legs more, you lift one and hike it up around his waist. The fabric slips past his fingertips, now resting much higher than it was before. You pull him closer until he’s right up against the lace of your panties.
“Fuck,” he curses lowly, digging his nails into your skin. “You’d better think this through, darling.”
A shiver runs down your spine, but heat floods your core. You need him.
“Please,” you whisper to him, watching as his eyes darken right in front of you. When you let your hand travel down his body, you smirk at how his length hardens further beneath your touch.
“Shit.” His hips unintentionally thrust into your hand. “Fuck, we should stop.”
You drop your head against his shoulder, retracting your hand away from him. “Well, impotency definitely won’t be a problem.”
He kisses up your neck. “Sorry. I don’t want to get carried away. Or even more carried away, I guess.”
“Look at me.” You wait for him to listen to you. “You don’t have to hold back if you don’t want to. Your desires are just as important as mine.”
“Before we…do anything, I need to make sure I have condoms.” He clears his throat and removes your leg from around his waist.
“Wait, what?” You frown and lean away from him. “What do we need those for?”
“Are you serious?” He takes a step back.
“Well, yeah. We’re married. We need to have children, why would we use condoms?” You run your fingers through your hair.
He sighs and runs his hands down his face. “We talked about this. I was under the impression that we were figuring this out first and then worrying about how and when we’d have children.”
“We can’t do both at the same time?”
“Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want kids yet?” He tilts his head at you and narrows his eyes. “Yes, I understand that’s part of the deal and why we’re even married in the first place, but I don’t want to even risk having kids if I don’t know it’s really me you want.”
Embarrassment floods through you, and you slide off the counter and send him back a few more paces. You pull your dress down and grimace at the thought of being in a position like that.
“After everything we’ve talked about and the time we’ve spent together, you really think that’s not true? You think I don’t want you?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. All of this is confusing. And then our parents are here pressuring you into having a kid, and you’re—”
“Oh, my God.” Your jaw drops, and you brush off your skirt. “You’re literally the one who kissed me. And then you put me on—God forbid I ask a simple question, right? That must mean I’m trying to jump your bones to get my way.”
“(Y/N), that’s not what I said—”
“Maybe not, but that’s sure as hell what you meant. And here I am, like a fucking idiot, letting you touch me when you think that fucking low of me.” You clench your fists at your side, and you’re unaccustomed to the way your heart twists so hard in your chest. “God, fuck you.”
You turn away from him and stomp off, painfully aware of your over-exaggeration. The logical side of you begs you to calm down, since both of your concerns are valid, but the side of you you’re experiencing for the first time is stronger than what you’re accustomed to. When you make it upstairs and to your room, you sit on the edge of the bed and force yourself to breathe. Chenle’s assumption hurt you. It’s as simple as that. You’ve let yourself like him, and now he has this power over you. With a simple miscommunication, it feels like everything is falling apart before it even begins.
You blink rapidly to stop the tears from welling in your eyes, and eventually, you’re more annoyed by your reaction than by the actual situation. The door creaks open, and Chenle walking in makes relief flood through your veins. He moves over to you and sits down next to you, reaching over to grab your hand.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
You nod and lean into his chest, craving his comfort. He sighs, wraps his arms around you tightly, and strokes your hair. With your ear pressed against him, you hear how his heart beats just as hard as yours.
“I think we both got a little carried away there,” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” you agree. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I got so upset.”
“I’m sorry, too.” He kisses the top of your head. “It’s never my intention to hurt you. Or to make you regret anything we do.”
You sit there in silence, appreciating the comfort he gives you simply by being next to you.
“I was…I don’t know. Embarrassed, I think.” You chuckle at yourself, but you don’t find it funny at all. “That you would think I’d just…do that without being truthful to you. I’ve had a lot of men assume things about me throughout my entire life. Because of my success, it’s either from my father handing it to me or because I slept my way to the top. So, I’m sure you can see why I had trouble comprehending that as anything else.”
“And I hope you know that’s not what I was thinking at all. I know how much of an influence your parents have had on you. All I ever want to do is make sure you’re making your choices for you. I never communicated that I would want to use condoms if we started sleeping together because I didn’t really assume we’d get there.” He squeezes you closer to him and takes a deep breath.
“I’m also sorry for yelling at you.” You scrunch your nose up and look at him. “That was…really weird.”
“Weird?” A small smile pulls at his lips.
“I’ve never felt anything like that before. And it’s scary that you have that kind of power over me, even if I know you wouldn’t use it against me intentionally.”
“Learning how to manage those feelings will come with the territory. Have some faith in me, alright? I’m not saying things just to bring you down.” He tilts your head up, his gaze scanning over your face. “I want you to be happy. Obviously, bonus points if I’m a part of that happiness.”
“You are.”
“Good. You deserve only good things in life, and I need to make sure you get them.”
He leans down and presses his lips to yours, gently working your mouths together. You sigh into him and tangle your fingers in his hair. Everything about this feels good. It has warmth spreading in your chest from knowing someone in this world cares for you beyond what you can give them. You know he wants you, but you also know he’s going to have your best interest in mind.
He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. “We’ll learn each other, darling. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to.”
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Whether intentionally or not, you and Chenle keep your distance from each other for a couple days. Today, however, you’ve no choice but to be around each other later for the board meeting, where they’ll vote on the CFO position. And your COO position, but Chenle made it very clear that the vote was simply a formality. You choose a black dress, zip it up, put your earrings in, and head downstairs, where your husband waits for you by the door. He looks at you as you stop on the bottom step, a loud clack coming from your heel.
“Yes?” You tilt your head at him.
“Are those earrings new?” He buttons his suit jacket.
“Not new.” You shake your head. “I just haven’t worn them since we married.”
“Right.” He walks over to you and offers you his arm. “Do you like receiving new things?”
You loop yours through his and allow him to guide you toward the door. “I guess that would depend on the context of receiving.”
“If I buy things for you, will they be well received?” he asks.
“You think you know me well enough to buy me things I’d enjoy?” You bite back a smile as he leads you outside and to the car.
With his hand on the small of your back, he helps you into the backseat before following. “I think I’d figure it out fairly quickly. I’m a smart man.”
“They…would be received. Maybe not well, but received nonetheless.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, relaxing against the seat. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“I can’t make it too easy for you.” You purse your lips, and without much thought, you scoot closer to him and place your hand on his.
“I don’t think easy is the right word for most things when it comes to you.” He laughs, turning his smile toward you.
“Most things?”
“Being with you is easy. Or around you, I should say. You’re pleasant company. Easy to have an intellectual conversation with, easy to relax around. Those are the easy things.”
“Wow.” You bite back your grin. “You sure know how to woo a woman.”
“Not just any woman,” he interjects. “My wife.”
“Your wife.” It’s the first time you’ve called yourself that out loud, and it has a weird, unrecognizable feeling sprouting in your stomach.
“I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it seems like you’re coming around a little bit.” He nudges you gently. “I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I’ve missed you the past few days. After the other day, I wanted to give you space in case you didn’t want to see me, but I should’ve thought to ask you.”
He stares down at where your hands are connected, his thumb rubbing against your skin.
You fight the urge to touch his face again. “I…I’ve missed you, too, I think.”
“You think?” Humor laces in his tone.
“I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to be around someone like this before.” You shrug, heat gathering in your cheeks. “Forgive me while I navigate whatever’s going on inside my brain.”
“I want to know everything you’re thinking,” he murmurs, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Every joke, unimportant sentence, emotion, process. I want to know you.”
You lean forward and press your lips to his without a single thought in your head, but he reciprocates with ease. Almost as if he’s not taken off-guard in the slightest.
“I could get used to that,” he says against your lips. “No more silence, okay? I don’t want to be away from you.”
“No more silence,” you agree.
When the two of you pull away from each other, your eyes widen at the sight of your lipstick on his lips. You grab his arm to stop him from getting out of the car and use your thumb to wipe the excess away.
“Made a mess, did you?” He grabs your wrist to stop you. “You don’t want anyone to see that you like me that much?”
A grin follows his words, and he grabs his handkerchief out of his pocket.
“No one can know I actually have a heart,” you interject, watching as he wipes his mouth.
“Alright.” He puts his hand on your knee and squeezes. “Are you ready?”
If there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s the overwhelming attraction you have for Chenle. You take him in for a moment, the dark sweep of his hair parted to reveal his forehead, the way he grips you, the way he watches you as if you’re the only person in the world to exist.
“Before we go,” you start, chuckling quietly at yourself for the question you’re about to ask him. “Did…did you ever get condoms?”
His lips part in shock, and he blinks and flounders for words for a solid few seconds before he clears his throat. “I…I mean, I did, but not because I thought we would—it was just a precaution, you know?”
“Do I make you, Zhong Chenle, so nervous that you’re stuttering right now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He pats your thigh. “Absolutely, you do.”
You silently thank whoever made this car for the partition between the driver and you and Chenle. “I could do so many other things to you that are so much better.” You gently touch his tie, wrapping your fingers around the fabric and pulling on it to bring him closer to you.
“I truly have no doubt that’s true.” He wets his lips. “If we don’t get out of this car in the next ten seconds, I’m having the driver fucking turn us around. We can’t miss the vote.”
“I guess receiving the title of COO is a little more important than banging my husband.”
“Fuck, I need to get out right now.” He glances up at the ceiling and throws the door open without any more hesitation. Like usual, he turns and offers you his hand.
You take it gratefully, and you loop your arm through his once your feet are safely on the ground. While you follow his lead, you realize something that has the gears in your brain turning. Chenle is the only man you’ve ever accepted guidance from. As miniscule as it seems to allow him to walk you inside, you can’t deny how you’d willingly follow him wherever he may go.
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The vote does go off without a hitch, and not even half an hour after you receive your title, you’re in an office plugging away at whatever work needs to be done. Unfortunately, you’re awfully distracted by the thought of Chenle by himself down the hall. A knock on the glass door jolts you out of your thoughts. You see Jeno standing there with a file in his hands. You beckon for him to come in, and he gestures at the seat as if to ask you if he can sit.
“Please.” You nod, folding your hands together. “Did you need something?”
The man hands you the file. “We were able to trace the owner of the bank account, and an address associated with it. I…I figured it’d be best to leave this information with you, given that this could be sensitive information.”
You open it, glancing through the charges. “It started with a different bank account and name.”
“It did. Payments were originally made to a Liu Shuye, and just over two years ago, the bank account switched to a Liu Sujia.” Jeno pauses and takes a deep breath. “I think it’d be better for you to do this portion of it on your own.”
“They have different surnames.” You tap your pen on your desk. “And you’ve never heard of this person before today?”
“Not once.”
“Very well.” You sigh and close the folder, gaze meeting Jeno’s. “Thank you. I’ll look into this further and determine at what point Chenle needs to be involved. For now, Jeno, keep this between us.”
“Of course.” Jeno nods and stands. With a quick bow of his head, he moves to the door. “He’s a good man, (Y/N). Chenle, I mean. But he feels too easily, so tread carefully with whatever you find.”
“I will.”
Once Jeno departs, you cross your arms over your chest and stare down at the information delivered. These payments were made for years, so you’re unsure of how this could relate to Chenle in specific, but you feel an overwhelming resolve to make sure whatever this is doesn’t hurt him.
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Chenle came to get you from your office at almost 7pm. He refused to let you work any longer and insisted he had to take you home. Your mind has been turning since Jeno brought you the documents, but you leave them buried in your desk and lay your head on Chenle’s shoulder for the duration of the car ride home. Once you're inside the house, Chenle takes your jacket off your shoulders and hangs it. You turn to him and grab his hand.
“Come to bed with me?” you ask.
“Of course.” He gives you the softest smile, and as you walk up the stairs, he follows closely behind you.
The two of you step inside his room. Chenle closes the door and then wraps his arms around your waist and tugs your back to his chest. He buries his head in your neck, a hum escaping past his lips.
“Are you tired?” you ask him, reaching up to play with his hair.
“No,” he mumbles. “I just want to be close to you. It’s been a long day, and you make me feel better.”
“Is that so?” You face him and tilt your head.
“I was scared to fall for you, too,” he whispers. “For anyone, but especially you. I know the reasons we’re here are vastly different from a conventional marriage, but I already wanted you before all of this.”
Your heart thuds in your chest as you realize his use of past tense. He was scared. Does that mean he already has fallen for you?
“C’mere,” you mutter. “We can be closer.”
“Are you sure?” He cups your cheeks, thumbing your skin. “I know we’ve gone back and forth a couple times, but I need you to know you don’t have to do anything for me. Ever.”
“Kiss me, Chenle.”
All events of the day are forgotten as soon as his lips are on yours. His hands explore along your back, fingers clenching onto the fabric of your dress as he inhales shakily. When he pulls away, it’s only for a second, as if he can’t stop himself from going back for more.
“Please tell me this means something to you.” He gulps, his words punctuated by kisses as he turns you around and walks you backward. “That I’m not crazy for wanting you the way I do.”
As the back of your knees make contact with the bed, you grip onto his shoulders, breathless from the passion behind his kiss. “You’re not crazy. It’s terrifying how fast you’ve become all I think about. Your smile and your laugh and the passion you carry. This means everything to me.”
His eyes sparkle in the lamp-lit room, a warmth dancing around in them you’ve never seen from anyone before. He finds the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down.
“I hope you truly know how fucking exquisite you are,” Chenle murmurs, removing the fabric from your body and returning his touch to your back to explore your bare skin. “I don’t want to fight these feelings anymore.”
“Do something about it, then.”
The heat radiating from him keeps the chill of the air in the room off of your skin, and after he guides your back down on the mattress, he haphazardly tosses his suit jacket away. You scoot back to give him more space, and he climbs on top of you. You part your legs further, nearly gasping when he takes his spot between them, pressing against you as if he were made to fill that space. As he takes your lips with his own, you work on the buttons of his shirt. Your hands shake, making it difficult, but he doesn’t mention it. He keeps kissing you like he’ll die of thirst the second he pulls away.
You finally get the last one, and he sits up briefly to rid himself of the extra material. Before it’s even completely removed, you reach down for his belt. He stares at your hands as you unbuckle it, but you don’t have time to slide it off him. When his mouth crashes into yours again, you lift your hips up.
A quiet, needy sigh passes through his lips. “God, I fucking need you so bad.”
“I’m yours,” you tell him. “Show me how much you need me.”
He grinds down against you, and his hard length slides against the wet spot in your lace panties. That time, you do gasp. It’s been much too long since you allowed yourself pleasure by another’s hand, and you crave that closeness with Chenle.
“Can I touch you?” he asks, voice rough.
“Please.” You nod. “Touch me wherever you want.”
He curses under his breath, but he presses his lips to yours once more, then along your jawline, down your neck, and paying attention to the valley between your breasts. He squeezes the right one, rubbing his thumb against your nipple through the somewhat thick material.
“You’re so fucking pretty.” He nips at your skin, and you already know he’ll leave marks on you. Pausing, he takes a deep breath. “You—you’ve done this before, right?”
“Done what?”
“Sex.”
“I have. Why?”
“No, I just…you said you’d never been in love before and I didn’t want to just assume that you—”
“Just keep going.” You blush, but he listens to your command without hesitation.
When his mouth continues downward, leaving a trail of his saliva on your stomach until he reaches the hem of your panties. He tongues along the band, his eyes flicking up to yours.
“Good God,” you whisper, the urge between your legs becoming far too much for comfort. “What are you doing?”
“Getting my fill.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs.
When his thumb brushes your clit through your panties, your hips jolt. You curse, grasping onto the sheets as you prepare yourself for whatever he has planned. He smirks at your reaction, and as he pulls at your underwear, you lift up to urge him to move faster. He wraps his arms around your legs, his hands pressing your hips down into the mattress. Even though he opens his mouth to speak to you, his eyes don’t leave your glistening core.
“You can stop me if you change your mind. Just tell me.” He gulps, wetting his lips like he’s struggling to hold back.
“I won’t change my mind,” you reassure him.
“But you need to know it’s always an option.” He squeezes you gently, and without awaiting your response, he slides his tongue from your entrance to your clit.
No matter how embarrassing it is, you can’t stop the whimper escaping you. His tongue flicks your clit one, two, three times as he digs his nails into your skin. Pleasure isn’t entirely foreign to you, but you’re sure it’s the way your soul has begun craving Chenle’s that makes this so much better than anything else you’ve experienced. His grip on you keeps you from squirming too much, but you try regardless. As he steadily moves over your clit, your back arches off the mattress. Whines leave your mouth as you run your fingers through Chenle’s hair in encouragement.
He takes your sensitive bud into his mouth, sucking to add pressure, only to release it and start all over again. You lift yourself on your elbows to watch him, all while practically pushing his head further between your legs. His eyes are closed, and seeing his lips work on your core has to be one of the most erotic things you’ve ever witnessed.
“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, the vibrations against your entrance sending shivers up and down your spine.
You feel yourself approaching the edge. Your body tenses, but your high won’t take you. Cursing quietly, you lift your hips in an attempt to figure out why the hell you can’t get out of your head. Chenle pulls away from your core, pressing kisses to your inner thigh. “Relax, darling. It doesn’t matter how long it takes.”
“Please just…” You drop your head back on the mattress and let out a defeated breath. “I want all of you.”
He leans over to the bedside table and grabs a condom, trailing his lips up your body once more until he reaches your neck. His teeth graze your skin. “You can trust me, (Y/N). I’ll take care of you.”
“I do,” you mutter, running your fingers through his hair. “I swear I do.”
“It’s not me you have to convince.” He nips your collarbone. “We don’t have to keep going if you’re not ready.”
You shake your head. “I’m ready. I want you.”
“Okay.” He nods, pulling back to meet your gaze. His features are soft, nothing short of adoration in his eyes. “Try not to think about it too much. Just feel.”
“I’ve never been good at that.” You chuckle and grin at him.
“I’ll show you how, baby. I’ve got you.”
You crane upwards to kiss him, and he meets you in the middle. Tasting yourself on his tongue has you sighing into him, and you push at his pants in hopes that he’ll take the hint. He pauses to rid himself of the rest of his clothing, and then slides his hands beneath you to unclasp your bra. You arch your back to give him more space, and soon enough, nothing separates you from your husband anymore.
“You’re sure?” he asks you again, grabbing the wrapper once more.
“I want you,” you confirm.
Despite the confidence you usually feel, something here feels more…vulnerable than you’ve ever been. Your heart flutters in your chest as he opens the condom and slides it on, and you spread your legs further as he climbs over you again. No man has ever made you nervous before, even in similar situations, but something with him is different. You care about him. You want him to feel good, too, and you crave his promises of taking care of you.
“Need you to relax,” he whispers, peppering kisses on your jawline as he lines himself up with your soaked entrance. “Close your eyes, darling, just let yourself feel.”
You tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck, and you listen to him. Through the darkness, you see the world you drew on his ceiling, the one with beautiful landscapes, overarching mountains, fresh, clean streams, and you sigh in content. The middle of the map, the location you craved to be in, is right here. With him. His breath catches in his throat as he slides inside you, his length stretching you. He gulps and rests his head on your shoulder as he attempts to steady himself. You tangle your fingers in his hair, combing through the midnight strands. After both of you calm down from the initial overwhelming movement, you wrap your legs around his waist and lock your ankles together, tugging him up to kiss you. His lips work softly on yours, and he slowly grinds against you. He pulls out until only the tip is inside, and as he pushes back in, he moans into your mouth. Your body shudders at the sound.
“Tell me how it feels,” he says, chest pressed to yours. “How do I make you feel?”
“Chenle, I—” You blush despite the situation.
“You don’t have to be shy with me, baby. Let me help you.” He repeats his previous movement, and you watch as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. “I can tell you how it feels for me.”
You nod. “Please.”
The pace he sets is slow but has electricity coursing through your veins anyway. He continues to pull out almost all the way, just to allow you to experience the entirety of his length rubbing against your inner walls.
He gulps, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re divine, darling. You’re squeezing me so tight, I could stay here forever. It’s like you were fucking made for me, soaked and so fucking warm, baby, you take me so well.”
Everything he does is like a lightning strike, every fiber in your muscles breaking down as you yearn for this completion. You know you’ll never be able to stay away from him. Even if you don’t finish, this journey is just as good as the destination.
“Feels like I’m on fire,” you whisper. Thankfully, your eyes are closed, or he’d see them roll back. “You’re everywhere and it’s still not enough.”
He picks up his pace a bit, and a moan tumbles from your lips. He holds himself up on one of his elbows, his other hand gripping your thigh.
“That’s it.” He kisses you, gently biting at your bottom lip as he pulls away. “I could never have enough of you. Need you always. Forever.”
Your heart thuds against your ribcage, and despite the pleasure clouding your brain, you allow those words to sink in through your skin and bones, deeper still until they reach your soul. There, they repeat over and over again until they’re permanently tattooed upon every recognizable piece of yourself. The hand on your thigh skirts downwards, his palm pressing on your abdomen as his thumb brushes your clit. You jolt and whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. He curses, but doesn’t let up. As the knot forms in your stomach, you open your eyes to watch Chenle, his face scrunched in pleasure as your walls flutter around him as your high approaches. He doesn’t look away from you, and as you lift your hips to match his thrusts, his fist clenches the sheets next to your head.
“So fucking wet,” he groans, his thumb never faltering in pace as he rocks his hips against yours. “You’re so perfect, darling. Gonna let me feel you cum?”
Between the slide of his length inside you and the pressure on your sensitive bud, you’re dazed at best. You nod, gripping onto him.
“I’m so close,” you whimper. “God, I want it so bad.”
Chenle adjusts his hips, and the next time he thrusts in, he hits a spot that has you seeing stars. You’ve never unraveled like this before, but your body shakes as overwhelming pleasure takes over, your vision spotting as you cry out and grip onto your husband. Your toes curl as he quickens his pace, and it doesn’t take much longer for him to press himself as deep as he can to finish in the condom. His body slumps on top of yours, his chest heaving as he presses his lips across your hot skin.
“(Y/N)...” he says between pants. “Oh, my God.”
You let out a breathless giggle. “I didn’t do any of the work.”
“Promise you, just you being here is more than enough for me.” He kisses your cheek and gently removes your legs from his waist. “I’ll be right back.”
You stop yourself from whining at the loss of him inside you, but as he goes to dispose of the condom, you get yourself clothes to put on. You slide a new pair of panties on before setting your silk pajama set on the bed.
Chenle’s arm wraps around your waist, and he presses his back to your chest. “What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed.” You chuckle. “What should I be doing?”
“Absolutely nothing.” He presses a kiss to the base of your neck. “Supposed to be naked in bed and waiting for me.”
“Ah, is that so?” You pretend to be in thought, tapping your fingers on his wrist.
“Mhm. Don’t you know bare skin-to-skin contact promotes good bonding?” He pulls you away from the foot of the bed and guides you back to where he left you. “Bet you’ll sleep better, too.”
The two of you climb into bed together, and despite the way your internal temperature is much too high, you still thrive in the extra warmth of his embrace. You rest your head on his chest, his nails gently scratching up and down your back. He falls asleep first, his steady breathing nearly lulling you as well. You adjust your head on the pillow so you can see the softness of his features, and you allow yourself to reach up and trace along his cheekbone. If anyone had asked you at the beginning if you’d ever thought a moment as intimate as this were possible, you’d quickly tell them no. There was no way you’d ever let yourself be so vulnerable with anyone. Especially not someone who has no obligations to you other than legally marrying you.
But this is more. It’s so much more than a business arrangement, and maybe a part of you has always known that. It wasn’t hating him you were scared of, but loving him.
But here you are. And you’re long past falling.
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Your morning is unfortunately hectic in the wake of the events of last night. Of course, you should’ve expected moments of relaxation in your marriage to be nearly non-existent, but neither you nor Chenle wanted to get out of bed. Despite that, today you planned on going to the address listed on the bank account. You roped Jisung in, even though he didn’t know all the details. He’s your cousin, after all, and he wasn’t going to let you do anything potentially dangerous on your own. Although, you’re not sure he could do anything in a ‘dangerous’ situation anyway. He may be physically giant, but he truly acted like a teddy bear.
You and Jisung sit in the backseat while the driver takes you to the house, and you’re flipping through a binder of papers while Jisung is on his phone.
“You know.” He pauses, waiting for your attention. “I stopped by your house last night.”
You turn to him and frown. “You did? How come I didn’t see you?”
“When I arrived, the staff said it would be best not to interrupt you at the time. They didn’t really say why, but I can only imagine. Either you and Chenle were in the process of murdering each other, or you guys are really going all in on the heir making.”
Your face heats up and you scratch your head. “I—I took your advice, is all. We’re kind of trying to figure things out, I think.”
“Uh huh. So the turtleneck isn’t a strategic move?”
“Park Jisung!” You push his shoulder. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”
“No, of course not.” He bites back his teasing grin. “I’m just saying, it’s good that you’re opening up to him. You guys are pretty much stuck together, so you should at least try to make the best of things.”
“But yes, we are certainly…making the best of things.” You grin to yourself and focus back on your binder.
“So, I can stop hearing your dad complain about no heir news soon?” He rolls his eyes. “That man is truly insufferable.”
You shake your head. “Can’t say the possibility is zero, but we used protection, so probably not. And yes, my father is insufferable. When he came over last time, he implied Chenle was impotent in front of both of his parents.”
“I’m shocked by both—why not try for pregnancy if you’re already sleeping together? And why would you not being pregnant after two months mean Chenle’s impotent?”
“You just live for drama, don’t you?” You quirk an eyebrow at him. “My husband would prefer to only have a family if it’s a real one. Meaning we would love each other. And I don’t question my father’s logic. I’m not sure how he got as far as he has in business when he lacks so much common sense. Like I’m a breeding mule or something.”
“Huh.” Jisung pauses and slumps back against his seat. “Aren’t you lucky?”
“Luck has nothing to do with it, Andy. None of this is short of hard work.”
Your driver opens the door, and before Jisung can respond, you’re stepping onto the sidewalk. The house in front of you is in a suburb, an exact replica of everything else around it. It’s not remarkable by any means. For someone making over half a million dollars every year, they sure do still live modestly.
“Don’t say a word,” you warn Jisung. “I’ll handle this.”
“Considering I have no idea what’s going on, I will happily let that happen.”
You stop at the front door, knocking three times. Standing completely rigid, you wait for anyone to answer. Once it opens, you’re confronted by a surprised woman. Her hair is long and black, reaching the center of her back. Brown eyes widen in shock.
“You can’t be here.” She moves to shut the door, but Jisung stops it over your shoulder.
“I’m—”
“You’re Chenle’s wife. I know who you are.” Her jaw tightens. “You need to go.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not an option. I’m here on company business, because apparently someone decided sending $143,000 a quarter to your bank account was acceptable. You can let me in, or we can make a spectacle out here. It’s your choice.”
The woman, who can’t be too far from your age, blinks through her frustration and opens the door wider for you to step inside. You do, and she gestures to the couch.
“Have a seat. I’ll grab us all some water.” She exits the room, and you and Jisung sit down on the couch.
Despite you being resilient in hiding your nerves from people, Jisung is able to read you like a book. “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Jisung warns you quietly. “You have no idea what’s going on.”
“Right. Only her being familiar enough with my husband to only use his first name. Not a big deal at all.” You clench your fists together.
“You said he had no idea about the payments.”
“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t know her.” You shake your head. “He has no idea I’m here.”
Movement catches your attention, and you see eyes peeking around the corner. Your jaw drops before you can stop yourself, and then the small child steps into the open. You grasp onto Jisung’s sleeve, and those conclusions he told you not to jump to? Yeah, you dive into them.
“Who are you?” he asks. He can’t be more than four, and he looks achingly familiar.
“Jisung,” you whisper.
Jisung leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m Jisung. Who are you?”
“My name is Yichen.” He walks over and sits on the coffee table in front of you and your cousin. “I’m almost five.”
“Wow,” Jisung feigns surprise. “You’re getting so old.”
“That’s what my mommy says, too.” He scrunches up his face.
You’re struggling to breathe at this point, and that’s when Sujia decides to come back. She curses under her breath the second she recognizes her child in the room, and she quickly sets the glasses of water down before shooing him back up the stairs. You’re suddenly, painfully aware of Chenle telling you he’s been in love before. Of knowing there are women out there he’s wanted in the same way he’s sure he wants you.
“I think I’m going to puke,” you whisper to Jisung, careful not to let Sujia hear. “You don’t think…?”
Before Jisung can confirm or deny whether your suspicions are valid, Sujia sits across from you on the couch. The first thing you do is look for a ring on her finger, and when you don’t find one, you feel an unmistakable lump form in your throat.
“Why are you here?” she asks. “I’ve done everything I was supposed to. I haven’t told anyone anything, and my son and I are peacefully living far away from everything.”
“That’s the issue. I haven’t the faintest clue who you struck some sort of deal with for this money, nor do I know why. And if you want the payments to continue, you’ll tell me everything.”
“Is there something in specific you’d like to ask?” She frowns.
“What makes you say that?”
“You suddenly look like you’re ready to rip my throat out,” Sujia retorts.
“The child. Is he Chenle’s?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.
Sujia visibly recoils, eyes widening as she glances between you and Jisung. “You…Are you joking? Of course not. Chenle—dear God, Chenle’s my brother.”
You swear your life flashed before your eyes, and as you drop your head into your hands, you let out a shaky sigh of relief. Your heart still races, but it starts to slow at the news that your husband doesn’t have a secret child.
“I’m sorry, your brother?” Jisung asks. “I wasn’t aware Chenle had any siblings.”
“No one is. That’s why we’re receiving the payments.” She pauses, wetting her lips. “Chenle’s father—our father—met my mother many years ago. I see him quite often, and he’s aware he has a grandchild. I figured he never told Chenle, and this confirms my suspicions. Considering his parents never divorced, I can only assume it’s because she is also unaware.”
“He recently became aware of the payments.” Because of you. “And quite honestly, I don’t think this news will sit well with him.”
“Don’t.” Sujia shakes her head frantically. “Don’t tell him. We…We need that money, okay? And he has full power to take it away from us.”
“Do you know anything about him?” you ask her.
“Just what our father told me.”
“Chenle is exponentially kind. He’d never simply cut ties and leave you to struggle. It’s not like you lied to him by choice.” You take a deep breath and brush your skirt off. “He’s the best man I know. And for that reason, I could never intentionally keep this from him. I’m sorry.”
“I understand.” Sujia runs her tongue along her teeth.
“And on the off chance he doesn’t continue payments, I will personally make sure you’re okay.”
“You actually care about him.” She tilts her head at you.
“It’s hard not to care for someone like him.” You stand up. “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. And for thinking your child was my husband’s. Thank you for talking to me. Can we exchange numbers? I can keep you updated on how things go.”
You make haste of retrieving her number, and then you and Jisung leave the house. Once you're back in the car, you let out a long, pent up breath. You tug your fingers through your hair and curse quietly.
“Are you okay?” Jisung asks.
“Honestly? I’m okay now that I know this isn’t Chenle’s fuck up.” You nod. “I think I need to pay his father a visit.”
“You’re going to confront…his father?”
“I’m going to confirm the story, obviously. And if it’s true, I’m going to tell him what an incredible fuck up he is.” You turn off the emotions switch, your face going stone cold. “Chenle looks up to that prick.”
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When you arrive at his parents’ house, you’re greeted by staff and Chenle’s mother. Jisung opts to stay in the car, and his mother rushes to bring you further into the house.
“Ah, (Y/N), what a pleasant surprise.”
Not if she doesn’t know about the secret child.
“What brings you here?” she asks.
“Chenle requested I bring these files for his father. Is he here?” You smile at her.
“Of course. He’s in his office. It’s down the hall, all the way to the back on the right.” She pats your shoulder.
You bow your head to her in thanks, and then you make your way down the hall. Knocking once, you await his confirmation to walk in. He sits behind the giant desk, glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. You note a lot of Chenle’s features come from him, but you can’t believe how vastly different they truly are.
“(Y/N).” He leans back on his chair. “Was I expecting you?”
“No.” You approach him and drop the paper with her bank account information on it. “Liu Sujia.”
His eyes widen, barely noticeably, and he looks at you. “Where did you hear that name?”
“Did you think no one would notice payments that high to a random bank account? From the company?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. A bank account means nothing. You can’t even be sure I was the one facilitating such payments. Chenle has been CEO for years now, so it’s been under his nose, too—”
“I don’t need your excuses. Or your explanations. You’re not my father, and quite frankly, I don’t care about the state of your family.” You glare at the man in front of you. “But I also spoke with Ms. Liu. She has a child. Your grandson, and Chenle’s nephew. You think he doesn’t deserve to know?”
“If you don’t care about the state of my family, why are you doing this now?”
“Because I care about my family. And the second Chenle married me, he became part of it. And while you may not love your son, I do. I won’t let you lie to him.” The words fall right out without a second thought, and you fight the embarrassment of admitting your feelings to his father before Chenle.
“So, why come here? Why not go right to Chenle?”
“I’m sure he will have his own things to say to you later. I wanted the chance to let you know, objectively, what a selfish asshole you are. Your son idolizes you for the life you built for him. For showing him that a man can be loyal to a wife he may not love, if not for his child’s sake. But you weren’t. Everything he respects you for is a lie, and you’re despicable for being okay with that.”
“How dare you come into my home and talk to me this way?” His eyebrows furrow in anger, and he leans forward, but you don’t even flinch.
“I don’t fear you,” you hiss at him. “You are human, just like everyone else. If you deserve to be scolded like a child, I have no problem being the only one with enough balls to do it. If you lose Chenle because of this, I hope you lie in your fucking grave. I’ll pay people to dance on it.”
You turn your back on him, throwing the door open and stomping down the hallway before you give him the opportunity to say anything else. Sending a smile towards Chenle’s mother, you nod once at her before walking back outside to your car.
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Gaining the courage to tell Chenle takes much longer than you’d like. You get back to your office, finding Chenle waiting for you. He smiles at you, one of his genuine, happy ones, and presses a quick kiss to your lips as you approach him.
“I never thought I’d find a time where the CEO’s not busy,” you tease him. “What are you doing here?”
“I figured we could take a break and go get some lunch.” He tugs you closer. “It’s been a long day, and all I want is to be with my wife. Is that so wrong?”
You purse your lips and tilt your head. “Wrong? No. Crazy? Maybe a smidge.”
“Wow, you just called me crazy. That hurt.” He chuckles.
“How about we just order something and eat it here?” you ask. “I have a bunch of stuff to do, but I would love for you to be with me.”
“Of course. What did you want to eat? I’ll tell the secretary to order it.”
“Whatever you’re thinking is good,” you tell him, leaning back on your desk. “I’m not too picky.”
“I’ll be right back.” He kisses your cheek, and when he closes the door behind him, you let out a sigh. It feels like you’re lying to him now, but you couldn’t drop something huge like that on him now.
Not when he was looking at you with such affection. What if you telling him this makes him hate you, too?
When he comes back, he sits across from you and rests his head on his palm. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” You frown at him. “What do you mean?”
“You’re just acting…different, I don’t know. Is this about last night? Did I do something wrong?” His forehead creases with worry, and your heart sinks in your chest.
“No, no, last night was good. I really liked last night.” You try to fight off the embarrassment at your words, but it doesn’t work very well. The tips of your ears burn.
“Okay.” He reaches across the desk and grabs your hand. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on. As long as I’m not the one making you feel that way, I can wait until you want to talk about it.”
“Chenle,” you whisper, squeezing him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being you.” You glance down. “For not being what I expected.”
“I want to take care of you. Not because I think you can’t, but because I want to. I can be a safe space for you, and I’d never do anything to harm that image.”
You stand up and walk over to him, grabbing both of his hands. “I think I might be able to let you do that.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this.” He pulls you closer until you’re straddling his lap. “You amaze me every day.”
“We’re at work,” you scold him.
“I don’t see you trying to move,” he teases, palms exploring your back. “I was kinda sad we had to rush this morning. I would’ve loved to just lay there with you for as long as possible.”
You relax on top of him, fighting a smile as you study him closely. “I need to stop wearing lipstick.”
“Why?” he asks. “Do you wanna kiss me again?”
“I want to kiss you a lot.” You nod.
“I can wipe lipstick off.”
“What if mine gets smudged?”
“Tell people to mind their business. We’re newlyweds.” He watches your expression as his hands dip down to grip your ass through your dress. “I think the newlywed era started yesterday. Because all I want to do is be with you. All over you. Inside you.”
“Jesus Christ, Chenle.” You smack his chest. “Composure.”
He grins. “C’mon. You were thinking it, too.”
“We certainly can’t do it here,” you tell him.
“It’s my building.”
You give him a pointed look. “I’m trying to get your employees to respect me. They won’t if they think I’m here simply because I let you screw me on the desk.”
“I gave you the position before I ever even slept with you.”
“They don’t know that.” You roll your eyes and clamber off his lap. “There actually is something I wanted to talk to you about later at home. Are you leaving at a decent time?”
“I figured we’d leave together whenever you were done. If that’s okay.” Chenle clasps his hands together in his lap.
“Perfect.”
Before you do anything else with him, you need to tell him about his father. You just hope you don’t lose your husband in the process.
You bring the binder home with you. On the car ride home, you loop your arm through Chenle’s and rest your head on his shoulder. He can sense your nervous energy and tries to soothe you with a kiss to your head. You and Chenle go upstairs, and you sit on the edge of the bed. He follows suit despite your nerves transferring into him the longer you stay silent.
“I wanted to talk to you about that charge we found.” You put your hand on his knee. “And it’s a lot, okay? So I just want you to listen to me.”
He frowns but nods in response.
“Jeno and Jisung helped me with it. Jeno found out the account belonged to a woman, and there was an address associated with it. Jisung went with me to the house, and when we got there, I met with the woman.” You pause and scratch the top of your head. “She has a little boy. He’s almost five. And to be honest, it was a possibility in my head that you might’ve…I don’t know, accidentally fathered a child, but thankfully, it wasn’t that.”
“(Y/N), who is she?”
“She’s your sister. Your half-sister, I guess.” You gulp, refusing to make eye contact with him. “And the little boy is your nephew.”
“Oh.” His voice shakes uncharacteristically, and he inhales.
“Your dad has been paying her and her mother off for years so you and your mother didn’t find out.” You close your eyes. “And she begged me not to tell you because she’s scared she’ll stop receiving her money. Which I get, honestly, but I couldn’t keep this from you. Not when I know how—”
“(Y/N), please. I need a second.” He drops his head in his palms. His jaw tightens, and he angles his gaze to the ceiling.
“Come here,” you murmur, opening your arms for him. Immediately, he melts into your grasp, resting on your chest as you stroke the top of his head. “I’m so sorry.”
He grasps the fabric of your dress in his fist as he uses you to ground himself. “The whole time I admired him for being better, he just fucking sucked?”
You can’t tell if it’s anger or sadness that makes his voice shake.
“You’re sure?”
You nod. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that,” he tells you. “You didn’t do this.”
“No, I didn’t, but I love you, Chenle. I hate seeing you like this.” You and Chenle both tense up. He lifts his head to look at you, and your heart nearly shatters at the welled up tears in his eyes. You keep looking at him, more than nervous for his response.
“What?” His voice is hoarse, almost like it’s caught in his throat. “What did you say?”
“It’s not important right now, okay? I wasn’t thinking.” Your own tears form, and you try your best to blink them away. “No thinking, just feeling didn’t really work in this situation, huh?”
“You love me?” He cups your cheek and turns you to him. “Do you mean that?”
“Are you kidding me?” You scoff. “Of course, I do.”
You shouldn’t have done that now, given how overwhelmed he is, but it truly slipped out. He stares at you in shock, and when he parts his lips, a tear slips down his cheek. You shake your head, reaching forward and wiping it away with your thumb.
“Don’t cry,” you say. “This is all so much, I shouldn’t have dropped that on you like this, I’m so sorry—”
“Stop apologizing. Please.”
“I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
“Darling, at this point, you’re the only one who hasn’t.” He rests his forehead on yours. “And you…you loving me makes all of this worth it. Nobody has that power over me when I have you by my side.”
“I do. I love you.” You sniffle and hold him tighter.
“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you walk into the room. I love you when you’re a thousand steps ahead of me, and I love you when you’re walking my pace. All the time, without fail and without reprieve.”
Every bit of oxygen is stolen right from your lungs, and all you want to do is scream and cry and punch his father in the face. Such a pathetic man doesn’t deserve a son like Chenle.
“Zhong Chenle, you’ve broken me in all the best ways. That terrible wall, the shell around my heart…I don’t want to face the world alone anymore. I need you with me.” You rub your thumbs along his cheeks, swiping up the next couple tears that fall.
“I will be better than my father. Than yours. We’ll do this the right way, okay?” He inhales sharply.
“I don’t doubt that one bit.” You lean forward and kiss his forehead. “What are you thinking? What do you want to do about all of this?”
“I’d like to meet her. My sister. And my nephew.” He chews the inside of his cheek. “She won’t have to worry about money. We’ll have to stop paying her through the company, but it’ll come out of our personal account. If that’s alright with you.”
“Somehow, I had a feeling you’d say that. Of course, that’s okay with me.”
“Can you set that up please?” he asks softly. “I honestly don’t know how, and she already knows you so…”
“You don’t have to explain. I’ll do it.” You run your fingers through his hair. “You’re the bravest person I know. Not everyone would handle it the way you are.”
“We’ll figure this out, yeah?”
“Between the two of us, there’s not a problem in this world we couldn’t solve.” You kiss the tip of his nose and stand from the bed, holding your hand out to him.
“What?”
“I was thinking we could take a bath. Help each other relax.”
He gives you a tired smile and nods. “That sounds amazing.”
You start the water and put a more-than-appropriate amount of the bubble bath liquid in it. Tying your hair up to prevent it from getting wet, you smile to yourself when you feel Chenle’s hands on your waist.
“Need some help getting this off?” He tugs on your dress.
“I might need help with everything,” you hum, letting your eyes flutter shut as he unzips your dress.
Once it's thrown across the room, you unbutton Chenle’s shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. Soon enough, both of you are beneath water and bubbles, and his arms are locked firmly around your waist. You rest against his chest, allowing the lavender scent to soothe your stress.
“Y’know what we’re missing?” you mumble. “Champagne.”
“I can have someone bring it to us. Just say the word.” He kisses your temple.
You shake your head. “We’re naked.”
“They’re professionals.” He laughs and squeezes you. “And I can have them leave it in the bedroom.”
“Right, and make sure there’s a heart made out of flower petals on the bed.” You roll your eyes.
“You can have anything you desire, (Y/N). You’re my wife. The sky’s truly the limit.” He explores your skin out of curiosity, mapping his way around your body.
You sit up and look over your shoulder at him. “You know what I want?”
He raises his eyebrows in response.
“I want it all.” You grab his hand. “I want you. The good days and the bad ones. Whatever trial comes our way, I want us to figure it out together.”
“Do you…Do you actually want children? Or is that something you feel like you have to do?” he asks.
“Honestly, I don’t know. There was a brief moment when I met Sujia and Yichen that I thought…I thought that he could’ve been yours. I mean, he looks like you a little bit, but he’s your nephew so that’s not weird. When that became a possibility in my head, it hurt. Stung, is more like it. I guess I figured that any children you’d have would be mine as well, and to think there were others you might have—”
“Darling,” he coos, tightening his grip on you. “I promise you, I do not have any secret children. Nor will I ever. You will be very, very aware of any child I have. I don’t want them if it’s not with you.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder.
“That’s good.” You nod and lean back against him once more. “We have time to think about it, right?”
“Take as much time as you need.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not going anywhere.”
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You hesitated to have Chenle meet Sujia so quickly. A week passes before you consider reaching out to her, and you know Chenle is waiting for it. She has to be too, at this point, probably worried about whether or not her money supply was going to be cut off. He has yet to confront his father, but you assume that will come with time. For now, you’re curled up next to him in bed, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. Finally, it’s a rest day for you both, and you get to spend the whole day with him uninterrupted.
His fingers run through your hair, a deep breath passing by his lips. “Darling.”
“Hm?” You move closer to him, burying your head in his neck.
“Kiss me?”
You don’t hesitate to do as he asks, humming against his lips as the two of you connect. He shifts to his side to get closer to you, his hand trailing from your hip, down your leg, until he finds the back of your knee. Pulling your leg over his waist, he shuffles closer to you, pressing his body to yours.
“What are you doing?” you ask him, smiling.
“Loving you,” he replies easily, sliding his hand back up to your ass. The thin fabric of your shorts does little to hide the sensation of him squeezing you. You don’t mean to gasp, but you attempt to distract him by tangling your fingers in his hair.
“Tell me what you want.” You pull back to get a good look at him.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he admits. “How fucking good you made me feel.”
“More.”
“You’ve been telling me you love me for a week now and I haven’t been able to hear it when I’m inside you. God, I never thought I’d be like this. It’s only been a week.” He squeezes you harder, pushing his hard length against you.
As he grinds himself slowly into your core, you curse and wrap your arms around him. “Why did you wait this long?” you ask him breathlessly.
“Didn’t wanna push you.” He kisses along your neck, nipping wherever he can reach. “Don’t want you to think this is all I want. Fucking been hard all day, darling. Every time you walked into the fucking room all week, instantly ready to bend you over.”
Your body shudders as you process his words. “Why don’t you lay back? Let me take care of you.”
“I need you so bad,” he groans. “I could cum just hearing you talk like that.”
You push him onto his back and quickly straddle him. Rolling your hips, you curse under your breath as you feel his hard length against your clit.
“Chenle,” you mutter, trailing your hands beneath his shirt. “Do you prefer ass or tits?”
“That’s an odd question.”
“You won’t regret answering.”
“Ass.”
“Perfect. Do you have a condom?” You raise your eyebrows at him.
“They’re in the bedside table—darling, I didn’t prep you yet—”
“You’re not the only one who’s needy,” you interrupt him, quickly moving to grab one of the wrappers. Before you climb on top of him again, you kiss his cheek. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, my love. You don’t have to ask.”
You shove your shorts and panties down, and as you pull at his sweats and boxers, his fists clench at his sides. His length smacks against his stomach, and he wraps his fingers around himself to relieve some of the ache. You didn’t get to see it much the first time, but you take a second to appreciate just how fucking pretty he is. He’s so hard, it’s probably starting to hurt.
He runs his thumb over the tip and gasps. “Baby, please.”
You waste no more time in getting the condom on him, and then you straddle his lap again, but backwards this time. As you quickly sink down on his length, taking him all the way inside, he moans loudly.
“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He drags his nails down your back until he reaches your ass, and then he grips you tightly with both hands. “You needed me, too, huh? Dripping all over me when I haven’t even touched you yet.”
You brace yourself on the mattress between his legs, and set a fast, steady pace. He moans every time you sink all the way down, and your fingers curl into the sheets. You easily ignore the ache beginning in your thighs when you listen to him and how good you’re making him feel. He spurs you on, his moans slowly turning to higher pitched whines.
“Can we—fuck, can we try something?” Chenle asks, gripping your hips to hold you still.
“Whatever you need.” You shakily lift yourself off of him, and he quickly moves from below you. He removes his shirt before aiding you in doing the same.
He guides you to arch your back, your face pressed into the mattress as your walls clench around nothing. His tip catches on your clit, and your body jolts, but you grip onto the sheets instead.
“Gonna fuck you good, darling. Wanna hear you the whole time, got it?” His voice sends needles of pleasure pricking into your spine, and you know you can ignore everything else once he’s buried inside you.
“Yes.” You nod. Your fingers curl into the sheets as he slides in. The angle has you seeing stars, and your mouth falls open at the sensation.
His hands squeeze your ass as he starts slowly, the rub of him against your walls making your legs tremble already. You worry briefly about being too distracted, but as reaches around you to put his hand between your legs, all thoughts besides the way he feels completely obliterate. He rubs your clit in pace with his thrusts, his breathing uneven as he works your body as if he’s touched you for years. You barely recognize yourself when your moans slip past your lips. You’ve never let go like this before, and through your daze, you push yourself back against him. He tentatively smacks your ass, light enough to make you crave the contact. You can’t breathe as you curse.
“Again,” you whine, your entire being on the brink of collapse. “More.”
“Earn it, baby,” he commands. “You know what I want to hear.”
You let out a shuddering breath as his tip nudges that spot inside you. “Fuck, I love you. I need more.”
He smacks you harder this time, and the loud, needy moan that pours from your lips gets distorted by the way he starts to slam his hips against you. His fingers speed up on your clit, and you’re already teetering on the edge. Sounds of your arousal emanate around the room, mixing with both of your moans. His skin clapping against yours has every muscle in your body craving the release you know is so, so close.
As your high smashes into you like a tidal wave, the pleasure is so overwhelming, you cry out and clench onto the sheets. Chenle curses as his thrusts begin to falter, but you barely hear him. You’re much too sensitive, and you whimper as his fingers still work your bud. Without warning, he pulls out of you. You whine at the loss, attempting to push back, but he grips your hips and flips you onto your back. Gasping at the sudden movement, you grab for him as he climbs over you.
“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.
“I need to see you, darling.” He inhales sharply as he pushes back inside you. “And kiss you.”
His lips connect with yours as he keeps his steady pace. His chest rubs yours, the heat almost unbearable as your tongues fight for dominance. A groan slipping out of his mouth interrupts your kiss, and next thing you know, he’s as deep as he can get, panting against your collarbone.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “I love you.”
“Me too,” you reply, breathless as you run your fingers through his hair. “I love you, too.”
“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He peppers kisses anywhere he can reach—your neck, your chest, your shoulders.
You shake your head. “No, I’m just a little surprised. You can tell me when you want me, you know. You don’t have to wait for me to initiate.”
“It’s been…an interesting week, you know?” He pulls out of you, kissing you softly one last time before he goes into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. When he comes back, he lays down on top of you again. “I came twice.”
You recoil, angling your head to look at him. “Just now?”
“Yep. Came when you were on top of me, too,” he hums in content. “And I’ll have you know that’s never happened to me before.”
“Had someone on top of you or finished twice?”
“The second one.” He pauses. “But I—”
“You don’t have to explain.” You snort. “I have a past, too.”
“That’s good. Don’t wanna move,” he mumbles, pushing his head further into your neck.
You laugh. “Don’t, then.”
Chenle falls asleep fairly quickly, and you kiss his forehead before wiggling out from under him. You grab a new pair of panties and slide them on before grabbing one of his button-downs. It’s much too late for any of the staff to be out and about, so you grab your phone and head to the kitchen. When you look at the screen, the worry settles back in the pit of your stomach. Sujia had texted you forty-five minutes ago, asking you for an update on the situation. After a week, you think Chenle has probably had at least a little bit of time to come to terms with everything. You text her back to let her know Chenle wants to meet her, and then you get your water. You don’t want Chenle to ever feel hurt like that again, but it’s not going to just disappear. You know better than that. But it doesn’t change how seeing him so upset broke you to pieces, too. If you could, you’d ruin anything that even tried.
He was right all along.
Being in love doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It makes you stronger. Gives you a purpose other than what is required of you when you’re from certain bloodlines. From the beginning, you were sure Chenle would never—could never—mean anything to you, and even though he told you otherwise, you had to find out for yourself. You’d start wars for him. You’d do anything to make sure he was okay, because at the end of the day, he truly is the only person to love you without conditions involved. He cares for you not because he has to, not because he’s forced to, but because he wants to. Because he chooses to. You refill the glass for Chenle and head back upstairs. When you open the door, he stirs, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he turns and sits up.
“Where’d you go?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair.
“Water.” You hold the glass up and set it next to him on the bedside table. Standing at the edge of the bed, you look at him, unable to fight the small smile forming.
“What?” He raises an eyebrow at you.
“You’re just…” You chuckle and shake your head. “Shut up. You’re just really cute like this.”
He holds his arm out to you. “Pinch me. I’m pretty sure I’m still dreaming.”
“Oh, you’re hilarious.” You smack at his wrist.
He tugs gently on the bottom hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “I like this on you.”
“It was the first thing I found.” Embarrassment climbs through you. “Sorry, I should’ve asked.”
“What part of that sounded like I wanted you to ask?” He snorts. “You’re always welcome to anything here. You should know that by now. But you’ve been away from me for way too long. C’mere.”
He opens his arms for you, and you chuckle and climb into bed next to him. When he lays on his side, he tugs you to follow suit. You listen to him, staring into his eyes while his thumb rubs on your hip through the white fabric.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what?”
“For trying with me. Not running away. Letting me love you. The list is honestly endless.” He kisses your forehead. “Not to mention I really would’ve fucking lost my mind with all of that stuff last week if you hadn’t been there.”
“Speaking of.” You shuffle closer to him. “She wants to meet you. And I really think you should do it, because at the end of the day, she’s your sister, you know?”
Chenle hesitates, thousands of emotions crossing through his gaze like a storm. “You’re right. You can set it up for whenever, and I’ll be there.”
“I’m sorry this happened, Chenle.” You intertwine your fingers with his. “And I want you to know that, no matter how you’re feeling, you can tell me. I want to help you process.”
“I’ll be okay, darling. Truly. It’ll just take some time getting used to it. I do think it’ll be nice to have a sibling, although she’ll probably hate me for…I don’t know. Being legitimate?”
You laugh, burying your head in his neck. “You’re not taking her money away, so I doubt she’ll hate you.”
He hums quietly, sleep still heavy in his voice as he pulls you flush against him. “I shouldn’t be able to love you this much yet. Slow down, would you?”
“You, of all people, should know that those words do not exist in my vocabulary.” You close your eyes and breathe him in. “I love you, too.”
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Sujia sets the day for the upcoming Saturday, and so while the days pass, you witness Chenle slowly lose his mind. He’s not upset at Sujia at all, but he obviously is with his father. It’s an incredibly large secret to keep from your family, so he has every right to those feelings. The entire car ride to her house, he’s squeezing your hand so hard, you fear he’ll cut the circulation off. His leg bounces restlessly, and the frown hasn’t left his face once today. The driver opens the door, and you get out first to at least attempt to lessen your husband’s nerves. You’re unfortunately aware of the straggle of photographers waiting for the two of you. While you’re not sure how they found out about this, you’re not worried about them in the slightest.
Once Chenle’s on his feet, you loop your arm in his. “Be calm. There are cameras, so at least wait until we get inside to freak out.” “Yes, ma’am.” He sends you a sly grin. The two of you approach the door, and you knock. Sujia opens the door quickly, ushering the two of you inside to prevent herself from being seen. Chenle removes his sunglasses, and you take them from him to put in your purse.
“(Y/N), it’s nice to see you again,” Sujia greets you. You nod at her. “Likewise.” “Chenle, you’re a little more intimidating in person.” She clasps her hands together. “Are you guys thirsty? I’ll get some water.” “Actually,” you say, patting Chenle’s arm. “Why don’t you two get your sibling introductions out of the way, and I’ll just play with Yichen. He’s my nephew, too, after all. And I’m pretty sure I scared him last time.” The two of them both flounder for words, neither of them wanting to be without you in a moment like this.
“It’ll be okay. Seriously. Neither of you bite, and Sujia, he’s actually really sweet. He just looks like he hates everything.” “As you can see, my wife is my biggest fan.” He presses his lips into a thin line as he fakes a glare. “Anyway.” You smile at Sujia. “I assume the child is upstairs?” “Yes, but if you want him to not be scared of you, you may want to refer to him by his name or something other than ‘the child.’” She scratches the top of her head.
“God, there is so much I could learn from you.” You separate from Chenle’s side and head for the stairs. Much to your pleasant surprise, your nephew…in-law? is already stomping down the stairs. “Oh.” The kid purses his lips. “You’re back.” “I am.” You nod and scrunch your nose up. “I figured while your mommy talks to my husband, we could…I don’t know. Play a game or something? Do kids do that?” “You’re weird.” Yichen grimaces. “But you’re nicer this time than you were last time. So yeah, we can play with the Switch.” You don’t end up actually playing, but you do watch Yichen’s game with interest. Leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, you analyze the process he uses when he plays every round.
“You’re smart,” you comment. “My mommy tells me that, too.” He nods, seemingly unaffected by your compliment. You pause for a moment. “Does your mom…compliment you a lot?” “Uh, I don’t know.” Yichen doesn’t start the next round, but turns to look at you. “Does your mommy compliment you a lot?” You laugh. “Yeah, no. Definitely not." “Are you—”
“Yichen,” Sujia calls out. “Can you turn the game off please? There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Without a second thought, he turns the Switch off and yells to his mom to tell her he’s ready. He sits next to you on the couch, folding his hands together in his lap. You’ve met a lot of children in your day, but you never imagined one could be so well-behaved. You see the panicked look on Chenle’s face as he walks in. A laugh almost erupts from you, but you hold it back. The man is meeting his nephew for the first time and can’t seem to shake the nerves away. You can only imagine what it’ll be like when he meets his own child. You tense the second that thought crosses your mind.
When?
A legitimate chill runs down your spine, and then you realize how close Chenle has gotten. He squats down in front of Yichen, and Sujia leans against the archway into the kitchen.
“Hey,” Chenle starts. “I’m your uncle. And you’re my nephew.” “Oh, wow.” You really didn’t think it could get any worse than you. “Do you know her?” Yichen nods his head towards you. Chenle smiles. “Yeah. That’s my wife. So that makes her your aunt.” “She said her mommy doesn’t compliment her.” His eyes widen. “Is she a bad person?” Your husband lets out an exaggerated gasp. “No way. She’s the best person I know.” “How?” “Well, she told me about you and your mommy when nobody else did. She’s really, really smart and, c’mon, she’s gorgeous. What else could I want in a wife?” Chenle grins, sending a quick glance your way. “I guess you’re right.” Yichen shrugs. “Do you wanna play a game with me?” “Absolutely.” He nods in response. You stand to give Chenle room, touching his shoulder lightly as you go to stand by Sujia. Leaning on the wall next to her, you quickly realize attempting to take your eyes off of your husband is futile. “He likes kids, huh?” Sujia asks. “He really likes family,” you reply.
“Do you want children?” “Oh.” You chuckle to yourself and fold your arms over your chest. “I’m not sure. But we…don’t really have a choice. We signed a contract and heirs are part of the deal.” “I’m sorry, but I really don’t envy you,” she tells you. “At the end of the day, it’s not that bad, though.” “So, you and Chenle actually love each other.” She hums, tapping her foot. “I feel like that’s rare for people in your positions.” “It is,” you agree. “And honestly, had it been up to me at the beginning, we wouldn’t even be…friendly. We’d be tolerating each other.” "Wow, he fought for you.” Humor laces in Sujia’s voice. “Well, I told him that I’d rather tolerate him than learn one day that I might hate him instead. He was entirely right when he said it wasn’t the hate I was scared of. It was love. Of relying on someone else.” “At least you can rest assured that he would be a good father.”
You don’t respond for a moment, watching Chenle interact with his nephew. They must win something in the game, because they dramatically high five each other. The smile on Chenle’s face is wide, and your heart flutters as a result.
“Yeah.” You fight your own grin. “Yeah, he really will.”
You and Chenle are at Sujia’s for hours. It’s clear the two of them are similar, and thankfully, your husband seems to enjoy having a family member other than the ones who have disappointed him. Yichen warms up to you both, and by the time you’re leaving, he’s hugging you both goodbye and asking when you’ll be back. Chenle is still smiling as he leads you back to the car.
“That went a lot better than you thought, huh?” You ask as he helps you into the backseat.
“I don’t know what I thought.” He shakes his head. “But it’s cool not to be an only child. Even if it’s unconventional, you know? And that little kid is freakin’ cool.”
You lean on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re making the best out of this situation.”
“Actually, do you mind if we make one more stop?”
“Of course not. Where to?”
“I think it’s time I had a conversation with my father.” He pats your leg. “And I could really use your support.”
“Chenle.” You tilt your head at him. “If you don’t know by now that I would follow you anywhere, you’re not as smart as I originally thought. We may have to reconsider this whole thing.”
He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth, holding back his laugh. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that contract is pretty air tight.”
“Damn.” You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek. “You’re so lucky I love you.”
“The luckiest.” He lifts your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “Can’t even joke about that one.”
Chenle isn’t even nervous as the two of you approach his father’s office. He grips your hand tightly, but his resolve has never been stronger. Despite him doing this on his own, you feel an odd swell of pride deep in your chest. You’re so proud of the man he’s always been, and how he only ever wants to be better. His father already knows what’s going on the second he sees you both. At that point, Chenle releases your hand and drops his folder on the desk.
“What’s this?” his father inquires.
“A lawsuit,” Chenle replies nonchalantly.
You almost gasp in shock. And while you shouldn’t be enjoying the awkward tinge in the atmosphere, you feel like you need a bag of popcorn right now.
“I’m sorry?” He recoils in shock.
“You seem to forget that when I became CEO, you no longer had any claim to the company’s profits. And if I did my math correctly, which I did, $143,000 a quarter is roughly $572,000 a year, which is a grand total of $2,288,000 from the four years I’ve been seated in the CEO position.”
“Chenle, you have no right—”
“You don’t tell me what I have the right to do, actually.” Chenle buttons up his suit jacket. “So, you’ll be paying me back the money you owe me. That you stole from me to protect your little secret from getting out. But that must really suck, because you actually delivered a handwritten apology letter to Sujia and to your wife and your mistress and me and the employees at the company that’ll be announced in about ten minutes. To the whole world.”
“Your mother cannot know about this. Whatever you’ve done, you reverse it immediately.” The angry expression on his face does nothing but make Chenle grin.
“Your secret’s out, Dad. Crazy how you had two children and never learned how to be an actual father.” Chenle brushes himself out and points at the folder on the desk. “I’d read that. You might wanna think twice before fighting it.”
“You’ll understand one day,” his father replies. “There’s more to life than marriage, and it’s only a matter of time before you—”
“I will never be like you.” The smile immediately falls from his face. “I love my wife, and I’m not a fucking coward. I don’t need a second family because the first one wasn’t good enough for me. This is the last time you’ll hear from me. And you won’t be receiving any money from my company again. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” 
Your heart pounds in your chest, your lips parted in shock as you realize what’s happening. Your husband turns his back on his father, gently holds out his hand to you, and shoots one last ice cold glare over his shoulder as he leads you out of the room.
As soon as the door shuts behind you, you laugh in disbelief. “Chenle, holy shit.”
“Dude, my adrenaline is fucking crazy right now.” He chuckles and blows out a deep breath. “That was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done in my life.”
“This might be terrible to say, but I am…so attracted to you right now.” You blush as you squeeze his arm.
“So, nothing but good things today.” He helps you into the car.
Once he shuts the door behind him, you climb onto his lap and kiss him. He groans in surprise, his hands immediately finding their place on your ass.
“What? You like when I put people in their places?” he teases you, leaning forward to barely brush his lips on yours.
“There were a lot of things I liked from today.” You unbutton the first button on his shirt. “It was…very hot of you to absolutely destroy a man like that. You held your ground and…I don’t know. The tone of your voice was sexy.”
“My God, am I learning things about you today.”
“If it helps you, I’m also learning things about myself, so.”
“Mm, please tell me what else you’ve got hidden up your sleeve.” He squeezes your ass gently, pushing you closer so you feel him hardening in his pants.
“I think…we should throw every single condom away. Permanently. We’ll have an endless amount of babies for you to play games with. Of course, you’ll also have to tell them I’m gorgeous, but—”
“You’re serious.” His jaw drops, hope sparking behind his eyes. “Darling, you better not be joking about something like that.”
You shake your head. “I’m not joking. You were on to something when you said you wanted everything. A real life, a real love, a real family. Why don’t we have it all?”
“Right now? You want kids now?”
“If we’re gonna have twenty, we really have to start now, otherwise I’m gonna be too old—”
He cuts you off with an earth-shattering kiss as he pulls you flush against him. His fingers tangle in your hair, and you giggle into his mouth. The only thing that separates the two of you is the door opening.You gasp and climb off his lap, clearing your throat and fanning your cheeks from the embarrassment of getting caught. Your husband grips your hand and pulls you towards the house, and you can’t stop the profuse laughter escaping you as he apparently decides you’re walking too slowly and hoists you over his shoulder.
“Oh my God, Chenle, put me down.” You can barely speak through your laughs.
He only listens to you once the two of you are inside and he’s able to set you on the kitchen island.
“If you’re doubting it even a little bit, darling, you’d better tell me now.” He kisses down your neck. “Because I don’t care how fucking long it takes, we’re not stopping tonight until I get you pregnant.”
“You’re crazy.” You push his shoulder. “You have no way of knowing if you’ll—”
“Baby, don’t ruin my fun. Tell me if you really want this.”
“I do, Chenle.” You cup his cheeks, smiling at him. “I want it with you. They all need to look like you. I want at least one boy and one girl, and they’ll be best friends because—”
He kisses you again, groaning as he slides his hand beneath the skirt of your dress. “Keep talking.”
“Um, I just really think you’d be a good dad,” you say, lifting your hips so he can pull your panties down. “And, uh, you’ve proven how much family means to you, so it makes me feel safe. I—shit.”
He presses two fingers to your clit, and your body jolts. Chuckling, he traces along your pulse with his lips. “How are you so wet already?”
“Well.” You let out another breathless laugh as you grind your hips to match his pace. “It so helps that my husband is the hottest fucking man in this universe.”
“You think so highly of me,” he hums, teeth grazing your ear lobe.
“You’re cruel for this, you know.” You rock upward, and your head lolls forward. “Teasing after you clearly feel how badly I want you is just…so rude.”
“I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me.” He moves down to your entrance and thrusts two of his fingers inside you.
You cry out, holding onto his shoulders. With a frustrated groan, you push his jacket off of him. He curls his fingers and pumps faster, thumb returning to your clit.
“Fuck, Chenle, wait.” You smack at his wrist. Even though you don’t want him to stop, you want more. He stops immediately, pulling back to look at you.
“What? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay.” You kiss him hard. “I need you inside me right fucking now.”
“First of all, you just scared me.” He tsks as he unbuttons his pants. “You need my cock so bad you can’t fucking take what I give you?”
Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. You shudder at his tone, shuffling closer to the edge of the counter. He pushes his pants and boxers down to the middle of his thighs, and your mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s hard, tip leaking precum as he spreads your legs further. The fabric of your skirt prevents him from having enough room, and the dark look in his eyes sends another burst of wetness to your core.
“Love how these skirts look on you but fucking hate how I can’t fuck you in it.” He taps your hip, and you lift yourself up so he can unzip it and tug it down quickly.
You barely even pay attention to what his doing when he pulls your ankles up to the edge of the counter and spreads your thighs apart until they begin to ache.
“Now, isn’t that a fucking view.” He wets his lips as he wraps his fingers around his cock. Thrusting into his fist a couple times, he uses his other hand to tease your clit.
“Chenle, please.” You gasp, tugging him closer.
“You’re so fucking wet, baby, I can see it.” He drags his tip along your entrance, pushing in just enough to watch the head of his cock stretch you open. He’s entranced by the way you take him so easily, his eyes focused on where the two of you connect.
Your pleasure intensifies simply by watching him so drunk on you, just appreciating the way you take him. You feel every vein in your body buzzing, and you can’t help it but to push your hand between your legs and rub your throbbing bud while he’s entranced.
“You have no fucking patience,” he hisses, grabbing your wrist and pushing it away. You whine at the loss, but his glare stops you. “I’m trying to enjoy my wife’s pussy, but she’s just so fucking needy, isn’t she?”
“Oh, God.” You grip onto the edge of the counter.
“Watch how easily you take me.” He flicks your clit. “Look.”
You let your gaze travel downward until you see his cock positioned outside your hole. Instantly, the room gets much hotter. You struggle to breathe, anticipating the stretch he gives you. His tip is covered in your arousal, but the rest of his cock has yet to feel you.
“Fuck me, Chenle,” you mutter almost incoherently. “I wanna watch.”
He finally obliges, nudging the tip between your folds again before sinking inside. He moves so slowly, you want to cry. You need more, and the stretch wreaks havoc on you when you’re watching. Every time he’d fill you up another inch, he’d pull out until his tip is barely caught inside you, and then sink in just one more inch. You’re losing your fucking mind, but you can’t take your eyes away from where he pleasures you. Finally, he bottoms out, the position of your thighs allowing him to press all the way against you, his pelvis hitting your overly sensitive clit.
“Are you ready?” he asks. “I need to fuck you.”
“You know I’m ready,” you reply, dazed from the pleasure of him seated so deeply in you.
He starts a steady pace, both of you still staring at the way you stretch to accommodate him.
“You feel so fucking good like this, darling.” He thrusts harder. “Nothing between us this time.”
You cry out when his tip hits your cervix. Your legs start to shake from how far they’re spread, but all you’re focusing on is the way your arousal shines on his cock when he’s pulling out of you. You feel every inch of him, and the way he rubs against your walls is so different without the condom. You’re fucking delirious, and every time he presses all the way inside you, the pressure on your clit has you getting closer and closer.
“You’re squeezing me so tight, baby,” he groans, moving his hand down between the two of you quickly. His thumb glides over your most sensitive area, and you can no longer hold back your sounds.
“Fuck,” you cry out, legs shaking as your orgasm lingers so, so close.
“Cum for me.” He slams into you. “Not gonna fill you up ‘til you cum, darling.”
You tip and tilt over the edge, convulsing as your high hits you hard. Chenle keeps rubbing you, thrusts picking up speed as he fucks you through your euphoria. He crashes his lips to yours as he spurts inside you, covering your inner walls with white as he pants. Your whole body shakes as you hold onto him tightly. Both of you are covered in sweat, but it does little to bother either of you.
“How does it keep getting better?” you ask. “You have that effect on me.” He shrugs, chuckling as he guides your legs around his waist. “And I wasn’t kidding. We’re not done yet.” “My insides are gonna be mush.” “What if I’m gentle next time?” He kisses along your neck. “If I fuck you with your legs up, apparently it’s more likely to happen that way.” “Insatiable.” You pull back to kiss his lips. “You’re lucky I am, too. Take me upstairs.”
You don’t make it all the way upstairs. Not at first. He decides he has to take you on the couch, up against the wall next to the staircase, the desk in his office, and then your bed. By the end of the night, you’re absolutely exhausted, but you’ve never felt so fucking good in your life. And for someone who thought you could never have it all, you realize just how damn close you are to having a perfect life when you have Chenle by your side.
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criminalamnesia · 4 months
Text
ok this is the end of the little tolerate it series— BUT I’m writing two different endings!! so here’s ending 1 :)
part one here and part two here
ending version 2 here
when he saw you that day on the street and tried to stop you, you had kept walking. hadn’t even turned your head, as if you knew it was him speaking.
of course you’d known it was him. he couldn’t blame you for ignoring him, honestly— he had been awful to you. he fully recognized that now, after years of being alone and mandated therapy and an honorable discharge.
he recognized how he let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he was too damn wrapped up in himself. but he had a right to be.
he had a right to not want to celebrate coming home. had a right to want peace and quiet once escaping from the sounds of war and death. he just should’ve communicated that with you instead of pulling away.
he’s grown. he understands now. and he knows you don’t owe him anything— hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped him across the face for this, but he needed to try.
he knew it was selfish of him. you’d moved on, surely. years had passed and you’d grown. he’s sure that naivety he once found charming is long gone, most likely from his doing.
he takes a deep breath, fist raised to knock on the door to your house. it’s small and quaint. something he definitely could’ve seen you picking out when the two of you had still been together. maybe not all of you had changed.
he’d gotten the address through Laswell as a parting gift. and he didn’t know why it was the one thing that came to mind— but it was, and now he’s here. standing on your porch with his fist in the air like a fucking creep.
he pushes out an exhale and knocks. all is silent inside the house, and he knocks again, the second one easier than the first.
“coming!” he hears you call from inside. he steels himself. readies himself for attack, for battle. it was something he couldn’t quite shake, even if he’d been retired for a year now. those instincts really never leave you.
the door swings open, and the smile you were sporting instantly drops.
“what are you doing here?” there’s venom in your tone. he doesn’t shy away.
“love—” he begins, but you scoff and start to shut the door.
“actually, I don’t want to know. get off my porch before I call the cops—”
before the door can click shut, he reaches a hand out and blocks you from fully shutting it. you look down at his hand, bewildered.
“move your hand.” you speak through gritted teeth. he stands his ground.
“love,” he starts again, pushing the words out quickly to avoid getting cut off again. “y’don’t owe me anythin’ and I know that. but can I at least apologize? please?”
you stare at him. he keeps his hand in the door, watching your face intently. he can’t tell what’s going on behind your eyes.
you take a beat. two. three. then you shut your eyes tightly as you inhale, open them as you release the breath, and open the door wider.
“you’ve got five minutes to speak your piece, and I hope you know I’m doing this for you, not me. I got over you a long time ago, and because I see myself as a halfway decent person, I’m going to let you do this. then you can leave and never come back. understand?”
he gives a small nod. “understood.”
you step aside and he enters your house, eyes already scanning his surroundings. it’s cute and airy, comfortable and full of you.
pictures of you and friends on the walls. lamps that look a hundred years old on end tables. big windows letting the sun shine in and onto a plethora of plants. colorful artwork and pillows and fabrics. it’s a house full of you, of life, and he finds himself envying it.
he doesn’t know why. maybe because it’s something so normal, and something he’s never experienced. he didn’t get that before he left home, and he certainly didn’t get it in the military. he still doesn’t have it now. he’s still struggling to figure out who he is without a gun in his hand.
“nice place,” he says, and he means it.
you roll your eyes as you walk towards the blue, comfortable looking couch situated to the right. he follows dutifully.
you gesture towards the couch, and he takes the hint. he sits down, sinking into the cushion, and watches as you move to stand across from him. he knows you’re putting distance between the two of you. he doesn’t blame you.
you were never the problem.
he was.
“five minutes, starting now. best believe I’m timing your ass,” you mutter out, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the screen. setting a timer, most likely.
best to get on with it, then.
“I owe you an apology, and I ‘ave since y’left. before tha’, actually. I was an ass, and I know tha’ now. you had every right to leave, and you have every right to hate me—”
you gave a mirthless, hollow laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. you were putting up your walls, protecting yourself.
“you put me in therapy, did you know that? years of it. broke me down and crushed me into tiny pieces. made me think I was the problem, that I deserved to be treated that way. ruined my trust and my confidence.”
your tone was bitter. your nails dug into the skin of your arms.
“you were never the problem,” he says, his words firm. he stand then, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “I was. I know tha’ now. I pulled away when I should’ve communicated, or hell— broke things off sooner.”
“so that’s why you’re here then? to tell me you wished you would’ve broken up with me before I broke up with you?”
god, that was not what he meant, and he struggled to find the way to put his thoughts into words.
“no, f’course not, love. I’m tryin’ to say I strung y’along, made things worse, and—”
“and what?” you interrupted.
“an’ im sorry, love. I know it probably doesn’t mean anythin’ anymore. but i am. deeply.”
you didn’t speak for a minute. your eyes studied his face. he knew you were probably taking in the obvious signs of age, of battles he came back from when you were no longer there.
“you going on a suicide mission? is that why you’re here? making amends before you die so you can face the afterlife with a clear conscience?”
he shook his head, taking a small step forward. “no. I— I was discharged. a bit ago, actually.”
“congrats,” you deadpanned.
“tha’s not tha’ point,” he sighed. “they made me go to therapy for a while. unpack all tha’ shit they put me through. and the shrink brought up you once, and it got me thinkin’—”
“so you’re here because your shrink told you to say sorry?”
“bloody hell, love, let me finish,” exasperation was clear in his tone, but he tried to reel it in. he reminded himself that you didn’t owe him shit. you could kick him out right now. he was here because of your allowance, and the second you stopped tolerating him, he’d be back on the porch.
you raised your eyebrows but kept your mouth clamped shut.
“I was an ass when I was with you, and tha’s on me, not you. I was dealin’ with my own shit, and havin’ you celebrate me and boastin’ about my bravery and shit— it didn’t— I couldn’t stand it. you don’t understand, love, and you never will— and tha’s not your fault. s’mine, and I’m still comin’ to terms with all tha’ shit. and I should’ve communicated tha’ with you instead of pullin’ away.”
silence filled the air between the two of you. he could hear the tick of a clock nearby. two ticks. three ticks. four. five.
“what do you want from me, then?” you spoke, and your voice was soft. he could hear the tremble in it— that old you slipping back in, and god he wanted to hold you.
he remembered loving you. he still knew what that felt like, even if was so long ago. and that love was creeping back in, that need to protect you coming back like a tidal wave.
“nothin’.” he said.
“nothing.” you repeated. he nodded.
the timer on your phone went off. five minutes, on the dot.
you clicked it off and looked at him. he was already moving towards the door.
“wait—” you called out to him, and as he turned back to face you, he could tell you hadn’t meant to. it had slipped out subconsciously, and he could see you fighting yourself on what your next words would be.
“I— I don’t forgive you,” you told him. “I don’t know if I ever will. but I— you don’t deserve to be alone. not after all you’ve done.”
he looked at you, the fingers of his hands twitching as he waited for you to speak again.
you took a deep breath and turned your attention to your feet. “I’m here. if you need someone to talk to about whatever. um— I—”
“it’s alrigh’, love. y’dont have to say anythin’ you don’t mean.”
you shook your head. “I do mean it. I admired you when we were together, y’know? you were everything to me— and that’s not something that ever fully goes away. I kinda hate you for everything you did,” you gave a small laugh. “but I don’t want you to suffer, okay? maybe we can— can get coffee or something next week. yeah?”
your eyes were glassy. he resisted the urge to reach for you. he was a protector, it was in his nature. he’d been too wound up in himself back then to realize that the trait he’d showcased on the battlefield should’ve applied to his home life, too. applied to his relationship. to you.
“yeah.” he nodded, his voice soft. he gave you a small smile. “tha’ would be nice.”
you nodded. he looked at you for a moment longer, taking in everything that had changed. but there was still the hint of that naive, youthful you, and that made him smile a little wider.
he turned and walked out the door.
————
author’s note:
muahahahaha ambiguous ending. do they get back together?? no?? do they ever get coffee?? it’s up to you!
this is ending one, keep a look out for ending 2 :)
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