#prenup discussion

[alwaysbewoke]

this is why prenups are important because you have to leave her. she's not an adult. she's a child in an adult body who wants this guy to just be a walking, talking atm machine with a dick. she's clearly contributing nothing but wants him to work himself to death so that she can have a social media worthy life. this is why men need to continue asking "what does she bring to the table?" or they will find themselves in this situation.

#dating #marriage #prenups #relationship advice #adulting #financial planning #partnership #equality #marriage advice #gender roles #modern relationships #prenup agreements #financial responsibility #relationship expectations #equality in marriage #prenup awareness #financial independence #relationship goals #gender dynamics #prenup discussion #marriage equality #relationship boundaries

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for pretending to be poor?

I was taught by my parents how to be smart with money, how to budget, what a credit score is etc. I have always been frugal. Always go for things on sale, use coupons, have always went to thrift stores, and just generally try not to spend a lot of money frivolously. I dont use a credit card unless i know i can afford it and i pay it off in full each month. To me, this is just being smart and savvy with money and was how I was raised.

I met someone at university and we now live together. We date for about 3 years. I pay for some dates they pay for others. They've talked about getting me a ring.

Well I had been looking at my budget when they came home. One of my bank statements had fallen to the floor and they picked it up. They saw i had about 50k in my savings account and flipped out.

Anytime we had discussed finances I never gave an exact amount that i owned. It just wasnt that big of a deal to me. If i love someone i love you whether you have 5$ or 500$ to your name, yeah it may be harder at times but id rather be poor and happy rhen rich and miserable. My partner had brought up getting a prenup.

They accused me of pretending to be poor because I used coupons and wore clothes that had holes in them around the house(no I just have a favorite shirt that I've owned for years and is the perfect texture and softness and I cant find another like it), that i was lying by withholding my expenses. That even though i told them i made less then them (they know the exact amount, I make 30 something an hour and they make exactly 15.50 more then me in their field) that i had more in the bank. They claim that I have broken their trust and that I need to prove that I care. Not sure how as they won't tell me how, just that I need to prove it.

They accused me of being an asshole and pretending to be poor and letting them spend a ton of money on a ring and get in more debt when I could have helped them out. I told them I never wanted them to spend a lot of money or be in debt, and that I tried to explain why they shouldn't make just the minimum payments on their credit card. That I had offered to help them budget before and was told I was overstepping. I'd buy my own damn ring but now I dont even know how to feel because they keep berating me and saying I'm a liar and that I'm pretending to be poor and "what else are you hiding" AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[nico-di-genova]

strollonso + marriage proposal.

Genuinely, thank you so much for sending this, it is such a simple request, and yet the idea of them married has now fully consumed me.

Warnings: NSFW, they are fucking nasty style.

The thing about them is that they’ve never been normal. Not when Fernando kissed Lance for the first time post Bahrain, all sweaty and roaming hands, crowding Lance against the door of his hotel room and then standing before his father the next day saying Lance was already like family. Not when Lance went down on him for the first time, choking himself on Fernando’s cock while the man sat on the phone with his engineer discussing set-up of his car. Normal was not something that came to them easily, Lance supposed their proposal wouldn’t be any different.

He just hadn’t expected Fernando to ask him right as he was bottoming out.

Right as Lance was muffling a moan into his pillow and gripping the plush material in his hands with white knuckles.

“Marry me,” Fernando grunts, and Lance hardly hears him over the blood rushing through his ears.

He moans as Fernando thrusts with practiced ease.

“Yes or no?”

Lance cannot even follow the question. He’s too busy thinking of how Fernando’s cock feels inside him, too busy arching and pushing back for more. Fernando gives it to him, leans forward so he can rest a hand on the mattress next to Lance’s face pushed into the pillow, his other hand gripping Lance’s hip tight enough to bruise.

When Fernando begins thrusting at a brutal pace Lance lets him. He lets punched out noises fall from his lips and tangle in the sweat soaked sheets beneath them.

When he comes, it’s with the shape of Fernando’s name in his mouth.

"You did not answer,” Fernando muses afterward. Lance’s head is resting on his bare chest, his fingers threading through sweat soaked strands of jet black hair.

“Answer what?” Lance mumbles, fucked out and limp against Fernando – like a sack of potatoes Fernando had once teased, boneless and immovable. He was falling asleep, his voice groggy with the promise of it.

“Marry me,” Fernando says again, a statement instead of a question.

“Later,” Lance grumbles, curling closer to Fernando.

He is rarely the little spoon, what with the size difference between them, but his thigh slots perfectly across Fernando’s hips and his head can rest nicely beneath his chin if he maneuvers enough. He can feel Fernando’s come dripping out of him, his own drying against his stomach, but the need to give into the oblivion of sleep is stronger than the need to shower.

“But yes?” Fernando asks, to which Lance makes a noise that might have been agreement, at least he aims for that.

It’s not romantic, certainly not how Lance thought his proposal would go. For one, he did not think he would be the one proposed to. In his mind there had been an expensive trip to Bali, rose petals in the sand, a girl who he’d get down on one knee for with a prenup and a ring. But the girl never had a face, nothing distinguishable about her other than the dress she wore that would flutter in the breeze and her giggle when Lance slid the expensive rock onto her finger.

This is better, half asleep against his childhood hero with his limbs still aching from how hard the man had drilled him into the mattress. Feeling warm, content, wanted – not just for his trust fund but because he was also really good at sucking dick.

Maybe it was a self-deprecating thought. He didn’t care. He falls asleep like that, with Fernando’s fingers in his hair and wrapped in the scent of him. When he wakes, it’s to the man easing him out of the bed and into the warm bath that waits with steam rising in tendrils from the water. It’s easy to let himself be taken care of, to let Fernando massage the knots from his shoulders and clean the come from his body. Easy in the same way it is to let a nameless driver cart him around Montreal or let the rotating staff dust his frequently empty loft, different in that Fernando presses kisses to his neck, his shoulders, his spine, the crown of his head and tells him how good he was.  

Lance rests his cheek against the curve of Fernando’s neck while water is poured down his back, soap lathered into his hair, whispers of praise warm against his ear. Fernando uses his own shampoo, his soap, so that Lance no longer smells of sex but of citrus and sandalwood.

Fernando doesn’t mention marriage again, but he does dress Lance in a pair of his own boxers and eases him into bed with a gentleness that Lance has learned to associate with post-coital bliss.

It’s the sun that wakes him up next, and Fernando’s hand thwacking against his face when the man shifts in his sleep. He smells of Fernando and is wearing clothes are too small for his frame, and it’s familiar. At some point, it became almost normal.

A month later he gives Fernando a ring, a silver band rimmed with a strip of carbon fiber from his own car and his name engraved in Hebrew on the inside. It matches the font that’s inked across his ribs. Hurt a hell of a lot less though and cost him significantly more. His dad’s accountant questions the amount, asks Lance if he bought a new place, and Lance just shrugs it off – says he bought a snowboard or a car or a race track just to see the way the man’s lips press into a thin line as he jots something into the books.

“I’ll marry you,” he says, when he slides the ring in its velvet box to Fernando across the table of the taco place they’re at. It comes to a rest beside the chips and salsa.

Fernando stares. There’s a stray piece of cilantro sticking to the corner of his downturned mouth.

“If, uh, if you still want me to. I’ll marry you.”

“A ring?” Fernando asks, motioning at the box with the overfilled end of the taco in his grip. A stray piece of carne asada falls, plops onto the paper lined basket beneath him.

“Yeah, it’s stupid, but you know-“

“It’s not stupid,” Fernando cuts him off, annoyance lacing his tone as he sets the taco down next to the escaped piece of meat, “Don’t say that. It’s not stupid.”

Lance blushes, ducks his head, stares down at his own untouched taco and the box that Fernando still has not reached for. There’s chip crumbs sticking to the velvet. His dad would have a conniption if he saw, the same way he did when Lance would show up to events in a suit that was too big on him with an untucked button-up peeking out from beneath the oversized fabric. His dad would hate that they were even eating here, which is maybe precisely why Lance had chosen it. Something bold, something his, something that wasn’t stamped with the Stroll name and wrapped in a pretty package.

“It’s not stupid,” Fernando repeats, “But it’s for me?”

Lance feels his palms go clammy, feels suddenly like he is getting hit by a bus. His appetite leaves him with the whoosh of breath from his lungs. They hadn’t talked about it since Fernando proposed the idea when he was balls deep inside him. When Lance was moaning his name into the pillow and choking on his own tears from the pleasure. He feels suddenly stupid, hollow, the same way he feels when reporters ask him why he bottled it into the wall on the easiest part of the circuit with condescension lacing their tone. Like they could do any fucking better.

“You- fuck.”

“Lance?”

“You didn’t mean it did you? Oh, man, uh. I’m- fuck.”

Lance doesn’t cry, at least not in public. He’s become well trained in blinking back tears and biting off the quiver in his voice that gives him away. But he comes close, feels the stinging heat of them building in the corners of his eyes and has to blink violently until his vision clears. Fernando watches him, watches as he fights against the rising tide of not good enough, stupid, never enough that rises inside him suddenly and rapidly and threatens to drown him while he swallows down the bile and sour cream taste that’s building at the back of his throat.

It takes him longer than it should to stop the shaking of his hands.

“Sorry,” he says when the world settles a little beneath his feet, when he doesn’t feel like he’s going to say something spiteful just so he can see Fernando’s expression twist with the same hurt he feels. It wouldn’t work anyway, Lance has thrown nearly every well aimed bullet Fernando’s way and they land, but they never seem to hurt.

“Let’s just- let’s just forget about it, yeah? It was a dumb thing, I don’t even-,” he reaches to grab the ring box but is halted by Fernando’s hand over his own. Fernando’s fingers wrap around his wrist, strong, sturdy, unyielding.

“Stop calling it that. Let me answer, yes?”

Lance nods, braces himself for the inevitable rejection, for the floor falling out feeling and the rush of wind in his ears and the impact of his body against the pavement. It’s not a strange feeling, to be dumped by his hero and hung out to dry, doesn’t hurt any less the second time around though. He just wishes Fernando would be mean about it, the niceties hurt more, he’d rather it just be quick – it’s what he would have expected from the man anyway – a sharp dagger to the side or the bite of a blade against his throat, not the gentle press of the knife sliding between his ribs in some false semblance of mercy.

Fernando brushes his thumb along the inside of his wrist, over his pulse point, parallel to the surgical scars left from his accident. He sometimes gets phantom twinges, the memory of a snapped bone, but nothing now. Now he just feels empty.

“I did not ask you properly,” Fernando explains, sounding, strangely, sad.

“I didn’t answer properly,” Lance counters, nodding to the box that still sits between them, unopened, next to the chips and a bottle of hot sauce like it is another spare condiment. It cost him a quarter of a million, and Lance threw it down like it was the spare jalapeno sauce the waiter had left them.

“I should have,” Fernando presses, exasperated, like he’s frustrated that Lance is not understanding him, “it’s important to me. This. Us.”

Us.

Lance feels like that twelve year-old boy standing in the Ferrari garage when he says, “I don’t understand.”

Like he’s watching the race unfold with noise muffled by the earmuffs over his head and his father’s hand heavy on his shoulder. Like he can see it all, close enough to smell the rubber and the gasoline, but far enough away that it still seems unobtainable. Fernando may as well still be in that car, separated by a screen and Lance’s idolization for all the difference it makes now.

“You want to marry me, yes? Honest. This is- this is you? Your choice?”

“Who’s else would it be?” If Lance has a gun held to his head it’s one that he hasn’t spotted yet, metal pressing against his temple, and he’s somehow mistaken it for a kiss.

Fernando’s lips press into a thin line, the curl of his lips curving further downward.

“I’m sorry, Nando.”

“Stop being sorry. You do not need to be sorry. I am sorry. How I asked, when I did, it was…wrong. I should have waited. I should have asked correctly.”

Fernando’s grip on his wrist tightens, instinctively, enough that Lance winces when it shifts something beneath the skin, and he feels the hint of pain. More of a familiar ghost than anything real. Fernando pulls away anyway, sudden, leans back in his seat and tucks his hands beneath the table like his touch has somehow burned Lance.

Slowly, Lance understands.

“Wait- you- baby did you think I wanted a proposal? Like down on one knee ‘will you marry me’, proposal?”

Fernando arches an eyebrow, “You do not?”

The floor stabilizes slightly, stops feeling like it’s going to fall out beneath him. Lance breathes and when he exhales a laugh accompanies it.

“No, Fer. Fuck no. Please no, actually.”

“But you got me a ring,” Fernando points out, points at the jewelry itself, like rings and proposals must always go hand in hand. Like they’re supposed to be the blushing bride and groom. Like there’s not a seventeen year age difference between them and their first kiss wasn’t accompanied by Fernando spitting the name ‘princess’ into his mouth like it was a slur.

Lance can’t stop laughing.

Fernando still can’t seem to find the joke.

“This is not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny.”

Funny that his boyfriend became his fiancé when he was fucking him so hard Lance probably wouldn’t have even remembered his own name. Funny that he bought a ring before they’d even discussed it when their dicks weren’t out. Funny that Lance mistook Fernando’s chivalry for abandonment. It’s funny in a way that isn’t, and so he can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him in heaving breaths and spills across the table, the floor, the whole of the crowded restaurant. He knows what he must look like, wide grin and crinkling eyes, and the familiarity of his face nagging at the brains of those who turn to stare at him.

He doesn’t care if they recognize him, or, more realistically, Fernando. He doesn’t care and it’s one of the first times that he thinks it and realizes it’s probably true.

“Stop laughing.”

“I can’t,” Lance wheezes, “We’re both so fucking stupid.”

Fernando rolls his eyes, shifts in his seat, waits until Lance’s laughs fade into breathy little huffs and passes the time by picking at his now cold taco. Lance watches him, watches the twitch of his lips and knows Fernando is biting back laughter too.

Finally, he leans forward on his elbows and says, “I want to marry you. Of course I want to marry you.”

He pushes the ring box further along the table with an index finger, until it’s touching Fernando’s plate. The man looks from the velvet box to Lance’s finger and travels along his arm until there’s nothing between them, but the table and the chips and Lance’s name engraved in Hebrew on a solid gold band.

“Do you want to marry me?”

He doesn’t have to wait for Fernando’s answer, it comes in the darkening of the man’s expression, his pupils blowing wide with want and the way he hooks his foot around Lance’s ankle beneath the table.

“Come with me. I will show you how much I want to marry you, Lance Stroll.”

Three months later, Lance wears a matching gold band, Fernando’s name engraved across the inside and resting warm against his skin. When people ask if he’s married, always as a joke, always assuming the impossibility, he laughs and tells them yes. Fernando wears his on a gold chain tucked beneath his nomex. It is the last thing they take off before getting in their cars, the first thing they put back on when getting out.

“Mine,” Fernando will whisper to him at night, Lance’s fingers pressed to his lips and warm breath ghosting along the ring.

“Yours,” Lance will say when he loops Fernando’s chain around his index finger and pulls until the man comes to him, and there is no separation between them at all.  

#file this under #another prompt that got away from me #this shit is 5 pages #I don't know short apparently #strollonso #formula 1 #fernando alonso #lance stroll #my fic #anyway them!!! #THEM!!!! #they're toxic and messy and in love!!!! #smut

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Please don't think I'm stupid but do you think Carlos and TK signed a Pre nup? I'm just curious because Carlos 's first home was beautiful and had a lot of expensive stuff and I understand that he's a cop and probably doesn't make a lot but you can just tell that he saves and manages his money well enough

Oh an interesting question, anon!! I definitely don’t think you’re stupid!!!

Listen, these are the same guys who didn’t discuss kids until they were like a week and a half out from their wedding. The couple who one half thought it was a good idea to surprise the other with real estate (while he was still married to someone else 💀) and also who just never bothered to mention HE WAS ALREADY MARRIED when he accepted a marriage proposal. No, I don’t see these guys doing a lot of forward thinking, and I do not think they signed a prenup.

I also think that if anybody should be asking for a prenup it’s TK. First because Carlos kept a whole secret wife from him for three years, who’s to say he won’t suddenly pull out a few surprise kids that need child support in a couple years 😂 (I am KIDDING please do not come at me!!!). Secondly, because Carlos has so many nice, expensive things, I actually think he maybe doesn’t manage his money so well? Like, the Camaro alone was likely a very irresponsible purchase on his salary and given his dad said he could barely afford it.

It’s not his fault!!! Carlos has got a thing for the finer things and the finer men 😏

And finally, Gwyn was a corporate lawyer from the Upper East Side. She was loaded, TK must have inherited millions from her. He is easily much, much more well off than Carlos (unless the Reyes family ranch is doing really, really, really well…). I bet TK used his inheritance to pay off his debts, pay his half of the down payment on the loft and pay for a bulk of the wedding and still had a ton left to put in savings.

But most importantly I don’t think they needed a prenup because they are soulmates!!! SOUPMATES if you will. They’re never going to need a prenup because they’re going to be married forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever…

#tarlos #911 lone star #tk strand x carlos reyes #ask #thanks anon!!!

[gabessquishytum]

New prompt for a pervy Black Widow/Sugar Daddy AU - it's long sorry!:

THE SETUP -- Dream's family is broke and each sibling is tasked with (bullied into) trying to entice the new rich bastards on the block to marry them, without a prenup. Now, maybe the professed plan is a black widow end - 'cause the Endless family is sooooo less than honorable (and let's be honest, great, great, great Grandma Endless's 2nd husband only had his money and his short life to recommend him), but the plan is fluid. First, one of the children needs to snare the right mark.

They don't talk about why Destruction won't return his parents calls - like he's so much better than the rest of the family.

Sufficed to say Desire and Dream are seen as the ones with the best shot. So every rich dick (figurative & literal) party they can go to, every society invite they can wrangle, they dress Desire and Dream up in the newest sexy couture they can borrow based on the Endless name and the fashion worthiness of Dream and Desire; and as they get more desperate, the outfits get more sheer -- tits outs and hints of trimmed pubic hair on show. See, the recent Mugler RTW Spring 2024 (soooo many sheer outfits!).

THE SITUATION ON THE GROUND -- Dream has been on the block too f'ing long. Desire seems to be enjoying it, or at least the part where they are competing against Dream for the "win," but all of these men (/very rarely women) are absolutely gross. Handsy and odious and just evil, why, even for just as long as it might take to separate any of these people from their money, Dream would want them to touch him - he can't fathom. And unfortunately, the biggest interested mark so far is Burgess - and Dream thinks he literally, openly, traffics people and starts wars for "fun."

THE [NEW] MARK -- Enter Hob Gadling. Now, no one is really clear where Hob's reported billions have come from. They just know it's "clean" money now, and Mr. Gadling appears to be a respectable tech/finance guy, now. There are rumors that, 'Please, call me Hob', Gadling, is not a nice man and that people who go against him wind up suspiciously broken (many times in bloody pieces, not just broke), but well he's mostly charming.

_______

Dream doesn't want to like Hob, again Dream knows all these people are just the worst (and let's be honest, the "plan" still involves a convenient honeymoon accident), but they keep running into each other, and Hob is hilariously vicious in his quiet comments to Dream, and Dream can feel the heat in Hob's stare as Dream's "dresses" get shorter, and sheerer, and really, at this point, Dream is walking around these parties mostly naked (with nipples that Hob's stares make so hard). Dream doesn't even want to discuss what happened when Hob put his hand on Dream's lower back to guide him through the party. *shivers*

Dream allows Hob a kiss after a particularly cutting remark about Burgess that has the whole party laughing; Hob takes the next few kisses that night; smudging all of Dream's make up and walking away visibly, shamelessly, hard. Dream's own full body flush can be seen under his sheer dress.

I'm gonna add the second part to this post!

I love the concept of vaguely gangsterish mystery millionaire Hob!!! Honestly if Dream is being honest with himself Hob probably also made his money from human trafficking but the difference is that he's sexy, and funny. And he doesn't look at Dream like he's a piece of meat.

So yeah of course he's gonna let Hob buy him pretty things! At first it's all trashy but expensive stuff that Dream squirrels away to sell later. But Hob slowly persuades him to accept more tasteful (still very expensive) things. Floor length gowns and huge opals that glimmer in the light, and even a car (and a chauffeur to drive it, Hob doesn't want his darling having to do that). Dream’s parents are pushing him to get a ring on his finger, get married, get in the will... but honestly Dream is very happy as he is at the moment.

And the sex is obviously insane. Dream’s previous lovers have all been selfish and boring but Hob is just... he wants Dream ALL the time. He's always coming up behind him, gently groping him and whispering that he wants to go again, please, will Dream let him? And Dream has no inclination towards saying no. He'll let Hob do whatever insane sexual thing to him because he knows it's always going to be amazing. And of course Hob has the biggest, most perfect cock. Dream would be devastated if he didn't get it inside him every day. He doesn't care how many people see or hear him whimpering while Hob fucks him slow and deep over the bonnet of his fancy car.

He's getting fucked and the money is rolling in. What's no to love?

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[mafaldaknows]

Kylie and timothe are allegedly getting married next year. Now tell me how is thios PR and how he's still getting his cherry popped by Armie Haammer. And I want a logical explaination, not some cult guru shit about believing in love and all that nonsense.

Hello, Anon:

Let’s stop for a moment and consider what the word “allegedly” means.

It seems to me that an unfortunate by-product of our social media culture is that people conflate allegations with facts, to the point that all anyone has to do these days to make something true in many people’s minds is simply to say it somewhere on the internet. It doesn’t even have to be “official”.

Allegations are not facts. Speculation is not confirmation. Hypotheses are theoretical. None of these things assumes itself as the truth, but merely introduces a starting point for further discussion or investigation in order to discover the truth about something.

So why bother to come to my inbox to ask me what I think about something that you already seem to think is true? It seems to me that you don’t need my validation. And don’t worry, Anon. I’ll spare you the cult guru shit about love.

Because what’s love got to do with it?

It takes at least two years for people to stop being on their best behavior around their romantic partners, so making a lifelong commitment to love, honor, and cherish someone in less time than that is a serious gamble, and seems highly unlikely in this case, assuming that at least one of them still has functional critical thinking skills, and isn’t in the habit of setting their life on fire without first contemplating the consequences, as most reasonable grown adults do, especially when making such a major, life-altering decision like getting married to someone they barely know.

What’s ironic to me, Anon, is that if you wanted me to agree with you, this would be a good spot to give you some cult guru shit about love. Because I believe that there are some people who know right away that they’ll love someone for the rest of their lives. But they tend not to need a team of managers and publicists, and constant, chronic, random no-one-asked-for-it-but-here-it-is-anyway press attention to prove it to everyone on the internet, in order to seal the deal. Lovers just love, no press required.

They only just allegedly met this spring. One year’s time is most likely not enough time for them to know if they’re suitable life partners for each other, if they intend to stay married, especially if they’re not even “official in private” and only “casual” at this moment in time, depending on how their insider source is feeling that day, depending on which way the wind blows, even when no one asked. It might be helpful for someone on their PR teams to keep track of what their insider source is telling the media on an hourly basis on an excel spreadsheet or something so they’re at least all on the same sheet of bullshit.

If it happens, then mazel tov to the happy couple, and let’s hope there’s a prenup, to keep things simple when if it falls apart.

As for popping a cherry, that’s a one-shot deal. Once in a lifetime. You might want to brush up on your idioms, Anon. 💥🍒💥

However T & A chose to define their connection to each other is no one’s business but their own. I’ve said this time and again. And who T sleeps with is also none of my business.

How T chooses to share his business that’s nobody’s business like nobody’s business is the larger issue, imho. The fact that T&K’s presence together has become ubiquitous in the media has now made it my business, like it or not.

Selling their relationship seems to be the point, and that’s the part I struggle with. It’s difficult to see the truth of their alleged love story when it’s so deeply embedded within such an obvious PR sales pitch. Even if they’re madly in love, that doesn’t change the fact that they’re also using each other as a means to an end. Famous people marry each other all the time without ever having to ask one to commodify themselves for the sake of elevating the other’s image.

Unlike some other relationships, however, T &A do not make it their business to make it our business to know their business, every damn day, for months on end. So I have no idea about the status of their relationship; romantic, platonic, doesn’t matter to me, Anon. But I can still be hopeful and watch for signs, with both my feet firmly rooted in reality.

Only time or Tim will tell.

Thanks for your question. ❤️🧿☺️🍒👀

#hello anon #it’s business baby #cult guru love shit #what’s love got to do with it #commit and commodify #a means to an end #isn’t it PRomantic #always be closing #can’t knock the hustle

[kisses-from-crows]

Crossed Wires - Campbell Bain - Ch. 6

Pairing: Radio Host!Campbell Bain/Popstar!femReader

Summary: Y/N and Campbell agree to meet and discuss a plan to put the pesky dating rumors to rest. Campbell is just hoping to get to the bottom of this mysterious interview.

Genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, modern au, reader insert, forced proximity, misunderstandings, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4,199

Warnings: Swearing, Yelling, Mental Illness, References to Alcohol

Chapter 6: Cocoa and Conversations

Beginning | Previous | Next

TMZ: Breaking News! A source close to Rodger Del Ray Jr. states that he and F/N L/N have amicably called it quits. The couple has ended their three-year engagement over issues with the prenup. Click here to read more about the split!

Posted: 1 year ago

“My place is swarmed with paps right now. Can we meet at yours?” Y/N messaged.

Campbell’s heart dropped to his stomach. Y/N at his apartment? Images of dirty dishes and piles of laundry flashed through his mind. His fingers twitched over the screen as he wracked his brain for excuses. For any single reason to keep her out of his space. Dread filled his whole body at the thought of it.

They had to meet somewhere else, anywhere else. What would they even do at his house? He barely kept any food that wasn’t frozen or microwaveable. What kind of snacks did she eat? What if she didn’t like any of the drinks he had? What if she thought his decorations were dumb? It had to be somewhere else.

Memories of getting swarmed in the restaurant flooded his consciousness. Phantom sensations of running through the streets, gasping for air, and the weight of her hand in his. Campbell flexed his hand unconsciously at the thought. A repeat of that incident would just make everything worse. His apartment was the only option.

“What time?”         

Around 7:15 Campbell was scrambling around his apartment in a feeble attempt to make it presentable. Shoving clothes into closets and frantically washing dishes that had begun to develop their own ecosystem. He may work well under pressure, but it didn’t ease the overwhelming panic that sat on his chest. Once his closets were thoroughly stuffed and his dishes mostly done, Campbell decided the space was as good as it was going to get.

He plopped himself down on his threadbare old couch and waited. And waited. And waited. Feet tapped the floor impatiently as hours ticked by. Unable to stand the rising pressure, he checked his phone. It had only been two minutes.

Nervous energy took hold of his being. Campbell sprung to his feet and began rearranging the furniture in his living room. He took to manic interior decorating like a fish to track and field. In a matter of minutes, the armchair was in front of the window, and he was struggling to push the couch across the room. With an effortful grunt, he pushed against the couch with all his might before collapsing into a heap on the ground. As he began to catch his breath, the buzzer to his apartment rang out. He scrambled to the intercom.

“It’s unlocked.” He rasped out. And fell dramatically to the ground once more. Moments later there was a knock on the door. He miserably crawled over and fumbled with the door handle from the floor. It opened to reveal a pair of fine brown leather boots.

“Hi- why are you on the ground?” Y/N asked puzzled, she crouched low and gave him a once-over.

“Dinnae worry bout’ it,” Campbell said breathlessly. Were the impromptu workouts going to be a more frequent thing? Because that was going to be an issue. Upon discovering he had no immediate injuries requiring medical attention, Y/N stepped over his prone figure and into the apartment.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” she said politely, the pleasant tone a contrast to the rather presumptuous way she had entered the apartment. Campbell pulled himself to his feet, nearly stumbling into an unsuspecting Y/N, but righted himself moments before collision. He let out a breath of relief. The idea of touching her made his skin feel tight and tingly.

“Aye, I’m rather fond of it. Something wonderful about having yer own space.” He followed behind her, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “It’s not much but it’s home.” She must be used to her penthouse on the Upper East Side. A lush life surrounded by doormen in well-pressed uniforms and influencers awash in petty status symbols. The heels on her tall boots clicked across the wooden floor. The sound paused as she stopped to examine a picture frame on the wall.

In it, a younger Eddie gave a crooked smile as a younger Campbell slung an arm around his shoulder with a smile so wide it took up his entire face, eyes disappearing behind his rosy cheeks. It had been taken in the old studio back at St. Jude’s. He had only been 19 at the time. There was something so innocent and unsullied in those scrunched-up eyes.  Something tugged at his heart as he realized just how young he looked. He remembered feeling so much older.

Behind them stood a merry Rosalie, a coy-looking Francine, and… Fergus. His throat felt tight. Fergus was making some ridiculous face, with his brows scrunched together and his teeth protruding over his bottom lip. The corners of Campbell’s mouth tugged upwards despite the way the well-worn cracks in his heart had once again sprung a leak.

She smiled and traced a finger along the image of him before remembering herself and withdrawing her hand. Her eyes flashed quickly to the side to see if he noticed. He did.

“Is that you?” She said with a warmth in her voice that he wasn’t quite familiar with.

“Aye,” Campbell said a bit shyly as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He felt rather vulnerable as she absorbed a crumb of that part of his life.

“Who’s this with you?” She asked, squinting her eyes eagerly and leaning closer to the photo. That was a loaded question. Campbell settled on the safe option.

“That’s Eddie McKenna, he’s the reason I’m even a DJ today. I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without him. Though if yae ask him, he’d insist I had enough stubborn will to do it on my own. But I like to think I wouldn’t have enjoyed it half as much” Fondness laced through his words as he recalled the influence the older man had on his life. Eddie was the closest Campbell ever got to a supportive father figure. Eddie believed in Campbell like no one ever had, defended him in his absence, and looked after him to his own detriment. He really needed to call him.

“He seems like a great guy. You think rather highly of him, huh?” Y/N turned to look at him, with a glimmer in her eyes that Campbell knew better than to call longing. And yet. “Must be quite the endeavor to get into your good favor.” The honeyed warmth in her voice soured with a tinge of bitterness. Campbell couldn’t quite wrap his head around where it came from.

Turning on her heel, Y/N took a few steps forward into the kitchen. Awkwardness sat on her tense shoulders like a yoke as she looked around the small space, unsure of what to do with herself. Campbell studied her stiff movements as she navigated the unfamiliar environment. She eyed the chairs to the kitchen table warily, as though picking the wrong one would cause a trap door in the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Based on the grim expression on her face, it seemed she might prefer the trapdoor option. Clearly, he was going to need to take the lead on this.

“Aye, there’s no reason to look so glum. Let me remind yae, yae came here willingly. Just take a seat.” Campbell flashed her his signature disarming grin. “Do yae want anything to drink before we get down to the nitty-gritty?”

Upon hearing a lack of response, he turned to look over his shoulder at Y/N. Meeting her gaze briefly, her eyes betrayed just how uncomfortable she was. Not quite to the same level it was at the restaurant, but that deer-in-the-headlights look was making a strong appearance. Okay, a slow approach would be best then.

“Do yae like cocoa? I make a damn good cup of cocoa.” His gaze didn’t leave hers as she gave a small nod with a rather pathetic attempt at a smile. He grinned in return and gathered the ingredients for the drinks. Campbell bounced happily, remembering that he had snagged more mini marshmallows on the way home. He turned on the stove, electric only of course, and began heating the kettle full of milk.

“I can’t remember the last time I had hot chocolate.” Y/N mused; amusement floated through her voice with a note of something more Campbell couldn’t place.

“Seems yer long overdue then, if yae ask me.”

“I guess so.” Y/N played with rings on her fingers. Twisting the silver bands, pulling them off one by one, and setting them on the table. Before putting the rings back on and repeating the process over in a sort of nervous ritual.

As the milk came to a boil Campbell pulled it from the burner and poured it into the two mugs. He tore open three packets of cocoa mix, stirring one and a half packets into each until he was satisfied with the consistency. Just as he went to pick up the mugs and bring them to the table, a tiny voice shouted out in his mind. Without a second thought, he pulled out a small espresso mug and poured a splash of his cocoa into it for Fergus. It was their ritual, and he wasn’t going to stop it now.

He carried the mugs to the table, shoving down the complicated feelings fighting their way to the surface. The mugs clicked against the table as he set them down haphazardly, a bit of steaming hot cocoa spilling over the side and onto his fingers. He quickly shoved the afflicted knuckle into his mouth to soothe the burn. Y/N sucked in a breath, air hissing between her teeth. Eyes flitting between his knuckles and his furrowed brow, assessing the damage.

“Are you all right?” There was an unusual tenderness in Y/N's voice. Campbell gave a non-committal shrug and removed his fingers from his mouth, shaking them.

“S’alright.” He gave a cheeky smile. “Would take more than that to take me down.”

He sat down and pushed the fuller mug across the table to the not-so-empty seat opposite him. She gave him a grateful smile and picked up the mug. The sight of that second cup of cocoa doing anything other than growing cold and remaining miserably untouched was a little jarring to Campbell. She blew on the liquid to cool it off before bringing it to her lips. Her eyes lit up with delight as she began to down the chocolate beverage. Moments later she yanked the cup from her mouth and let out an undignified wail.

“Oh god, I burnt my tongue!” Y/N whined, panting dramatically in an attempt to cool off her mouth.

“What didya do that for? Yae just watched me burn myself not three seconds ago!” Campbell laughed at her theatrics and took a sip from his own mug.

“God, that is it good.” Y/N practically groaned. Ignoring Campbell’s teasing she went back in for another ill-advised swig of cocoa.

“Oi, I almost forgot!” Campbell exclaimed, leaping from his chair suddenly, nearly knocking it over in the process. Y/N jumped slightly at his sudden movement but kept her composure, staring after him curiously. He bounded across the kitchen to snatch his prize from the cupboard. Treasure in hand, he plopped himself back down into his seat.

He tore a messy hole in the bag of marshmallows and stuffed his fingers in to grab a handful. Campbell plopped them messily into his mug with a proud smile, picking off the rogue mallow stuck to his finger with his teeth. Without asking, he reached in to grab another heaping handful, dropping them into Y/N’s mug with even less ceremony than the first. The sheer number of mallows could not be contained by the measly mug. They toppled over the sides and onto the table.

Y/N let out a loud sudden laugh that staggered out of her like it caught her by surprise. She picked up her mug gingerly to preserve the marshmallow mountain, but to no avail. A few more precious morsels fell into her lap. A lopsided smile slowly took over most of her face, tongue poking out slightly from between her teeth. It was goofy, and adorable, and perfect.

Campbell felt his heart stutter in his chest for just a moment. It was a foreign sight, such a raw genuine smile gracing Y/N’s face. When had he ever seen her smile like that? With the way the emotion shifted in its place like it was unused to being there, he wondered if anyone had ever seen it. He liked it.

“I have to admit, you make a pretty good cup of hot chocolate. This is amazing! Really-” Y/N rattled off praises that made the tips of Campbell’s ears turn pink. A thin hot chocolate mustache lined her top lip. He smirked as he took in the sight. She didn’t have a clue as she continued to take deep gulps of the now cooler cocoa. Her lips probably tasted just like chocolate right now.

Well, that was new. Campbell’s eyes widened at his traitorous thoughts. He scrambled to remember why they were here, drinking together and laughing.

Enemies. They were enemies. Who were using each other to get out of a sticky situation, that’s all. They hated each other. It was nothing more than that.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, desperately trying to urge his mind off its current topic of interest. Y/N bounced slightly in her seat, happily downing the rest of her drink, blissfully unaware of the war happening behind Campbell’s eyes. He wracked his brain for something to say, anything.

“So apparently yae and I are dating.” Brilliant Campbell, just brilliant. Evasive maneuver of the century. Y/N choked on the last of her cocoa. She attempted to compose herself through poorly hidden coughs.

“Are we now? Well, you could’ve at least told me.” She smirked as if she had any dignity left after that coughing fit.

“Well, I’m just as surprised as yae are.” Campbell smiled, leaning back in his chair and locking his hands behind his head. A perfect picture of feigned indifference. His heart, however, beat out a confusing rhythm in his chest. “Yae wanna stage a messy public breakup? Could be fun!” A conniving smile slid across his face as he hatched an overly elaborate scheme that was likely doomed to fail.

“Let’s not reinvent the wheel here, we just need to stick to the original plan. And the rest will work itself out. No reason to give the vultures the false satisfaction of being right.” Y/N said, unable to meet his eyes as she smoothed out invisible wrinkles on her wool sweater. Gone was the carefree Y/N who had been laughing moments before. In her place was the media-trained figurehead he knew and loathed. ‘False’… something about that wording made Campbell’s chest ache a little.

“Aww come on, wouldnae be fun! We could come up with a whole buncha shite about each other. I would say I couldnae handle yer fifteen-step skincare routine and the way yae slept with all the lights on like some sort of serial killer. And yae could say how it would never work because I’m far too handsome and too good of a lover. That the pressure of knowing yae couldnae find better just got to yer head” Campbell teased, wiggling his eyebrows. He longed to get a rise out of her, leaning across the table to see even a glimmer of irritation in Y/N’s eyes. She rolled her eyes, but no wrinkle appeared. Damn, he was losing his touch. He leaned back in his seat and pouted slightly.

Silence stretched out between them as Y/N pretended to sip from a mug that Campbell knew damn well was empty. She was stalling. No more beating around the bush. He had very little to start with, but this game of cat and mouse was wearing on his patience.

“Why did yae choose me for the interview?” Campbell verbally laid his cards out on the table. “Back in the bistro yae said yae didn’t leave by choice. That yae needed MY help. Mine specifically. I wanna know why.”

“Right into it then? Alright.” Y/N said wearily, eyes trained on the table. She rubbed a hand over her face with a sigh, unsure where to start.

“Here’s the truth… a lot happened. I wish I could say it all started with the paps in the park.” Y/N slowly eased into the story as if she were wadding into uncomfortably cold water. Campbell remembers the incident well. Videos of Y/N surrounded by photographers in Central Park, screaming and yelling at them. The clip of her throwing a $12,000 camera to the ground had been inescapable for weeks.

“That thing,” Campbell wasn’t quite sure what the thing she referred to was. “had been building for months… hell years.” Her eyes flicked back and forth as though she was replaying a scene in her mind.

“It’s so exhausting, you know? Living that life. It all seems so exciting at first, all the fancy cars and the famous people and the endless glamour.” She picked at a loose thread on her sweater. “But it wears on you. You begin to realize these people; they all surround themselves with disgusting amounts of wealth to distract from how empty they feel inside.” Y/N’s voice was tinged with a trace of bitterness as she spoke. Her fist tightened around the handle of her empty mug. Campbell wondered if it might crack under her grip.

“Your life just isn’t your own. It becomes its own consumable product. Everything you do is calculated and controlled by people on your own damn payroll.” Should he have started recording before this conversation started? “Where you go, what you do, who you meet, what you eat. All of it, planned down to the last detail. And god forbid you deviate from that plan.” Y/N hissed out the last bit, brows scrunched together, jaw clenched.

At that moment, Campbell felt like he was seeing her for the first time. Not Y/N the popstar, not Y/N the brand, but Y/N the person. She was complicated and messy and bitter. She was utterly human.

Her eyes glazed over as she became aware of just how much she had revealed, just how vulnerable she had been. But that was the point of it all. So why did it bother her so much? Was it that difficult of a story to tell?

“I fell into a really dark place. I felt so out of control, I just lost it. And after everything happened in the park, it just all went to shit. A couple of months later is when…” She paused, eyes tinged with guilt flicking up to meet his. “That was when I started researching you.”

Campbell sucked in a breath. Researching him? What the hell did that mean? Even worse, what did she find?

“What?” He said, unsure of where this was going.

“I don’t know, I was mad at the world. I needed something to latch on to. I was jealous of you. The way you seem to do whatever the hell you like, and everybody loves you!” She spat out the words like they disgusted her. Campbell blinked owlishly at her outburst.

“Well… not everyone.” Campbell attempted to cut the tension, uncomfortable with how deeply serious the conversation had gotten. “There’s always Rodger.”

Y/N leveled a glare at him over the mention of her ex-fiancé. Alright, so maybe there was such a thing as a bad time for humor.

“I don’t know why I thought this was going to work, this was a stupid idea.” Y/N shook her head and started to stand. Surprising them both, Campbell sprung up and grabbed her hand, gripping it tight.

“Dinnae go. It’s not stupid, just sit back down. I’ll be quiet, I promise.” He pleaded with her gently, sinking slowly back into his chair with his hand still wrapped around hers. A silent bid to stay.

Y/N sat back down cautiously. Their hands lingered a beat too long before she pulled hers back into her lap. Campbell’s hand stayed right where it was.

“I thought maybe if I knew more about you, I could figure out… how to be more like you.” Her voice trailed off at the end like she was ashamed of it. Campbell fought the smirk that threatened to take over his features, letting the snide remark die in his throat. He promised to be quiet, and he very much intended to keep that promise.

“There was this article… from a smaller publication in Glasgow. It was from ages ago. But there you were, wearing the goofiest button-up I’d ever seen. You had been DJ-ing at some hospital fair.” Y/N words hung in the air as Campbell’s blood ran cold.

Hardly anyone knew about his past medical history. That part of his life stayed back in Glasgow. His time in St. Jude’s wasn’t something he was ashamed of. Regardless of the potential ramifications it could have on his career. Yet Campbell could never forget the effect that knowledge had on Fergus. What it cost him. What it drove him to do.

“I know about St. Jude’s.” She said finally. Campbell felt his cold blood start to boil. He carried the weight of everything associated with St. Jude’s every day of his life. It was an experience he wasn’t very willing to relive outside of his little family that he found there. The ones that got it.

“So what? Yae found out my deep dark secret and decided what? That yae’d throw me a bone because you pitied me?” Campbell broke his oath of silence.

“Campbell, no-“ Y/N interjected.

“Well, I dinnae need yer stupid pity. I’ll have yae know I am doing quite well by myself.” Campbell felt the anger rise in him with each word that he spoke. “So yae can take yer pity and shove it right up yer arse because I AM NOT ILL.” His voice rose as he stood up.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Y/N pleaded with him, crossing the floor into his space. He huffed as he took a step back.

“I know exactly what yae meant, yae spoiled princess.” Campbell spat. “I’m no charity case.”

“I never said that! You’re not listening to me! Please.” She reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled back as though he’d been burned. “What can I say to make you believe me?”

“Yae cannae say a thing because it’s none of yer business.” He waved his arms indignantly, forcing distance between them. “Yae dinnae know what yer talking about so just shut it.” Anxiety took over him. His head pounding as unpleasant memories came flooding back.

“I know more than you think… I know what happened, Campbell.” Y/N’s voice got notably softer as she spoke. “I know what happened to Fergus.”

That was the final straw.

“GET OUT” Campbell lost the last shred of his composure. “YAE DINNAE GET TO TALK ABOUT HIM”

Y/N stepped back in shock; eyes wide. Without another word, Campbell grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him toward the door. His touch was far gentler than his tone.

“Yae need to leave, yer no longer welcome here.” His nostrils flared as he flung open the front door, ushering her to leave.

“Wait Campbell, please, I wasn’t finished” Y/N pushed against the door as he attempted to close it on her.

“Nae, I think yer quite finished all right.” Campbell attempted to close the door again, she was stronger than she looked.

“Campbell listen!” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes tight like the words pained her. “I got hospitalized.”

He paused, limbs going slack as he processed the words.

“After that day in the park, they had me forcibly hospitalized.” She gathered all the courage she had left to look him in the eyes. Hopefully, he could see the truth in them. Maybe they could communicate something that she wasn’t quite ready to put into words. But the look in his eyes froze her to the spot. The anger had melted away to reveal something much softer. Something akin to understanding. A feeling so unfamiliar to her, that it made her weak at the knees. ‘I was hoping you could understand.’ The words died on her tongue before she could speak them.

Time slowed as they stared at each other. Both feel far more exposed than they were comfortable with. Campbell blinked like he was breaking out of a trance. He cleared his throat and turned his back to the door, walking slowly back to the kitchen. He took a deep breath in and out just like Eddie had shown him all those years ago. The voices in his head got quieter but didn’t fully leave.

“Where are you going?” Y/N called after him, voice thick. Campbell rummaged through the cupboard above his fridge and pulled out a bottle of whisky.

“I figured we were gonna need something stronger than cocoa.”

_________________________________________________

A/N: Have you guys ever heard that saying that if your brain tells you take a break and you ignore it, your body will force you to. that essentially happened to me this week. i had the worst cold but i’m on the up and up now! thank you so much for reading this story and i appreciate all your kindness on my other post about needing a break. love you guys!!! have a good week, you deserve it!! <3 -Ducky

#campbell bain #david tennant #fanfic #fanfic writing #taking over the asylum #campbell bain x reader #kisses-from-crows #modern au #campbell bain fanfic #enjoy! #multi part #enemies to lovers #WIP

[absurdthirst]

The Halloween Hit {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Warnings: Assignation attempts, gun violence, poison, technically infidelity, divorces, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, breath play, squirting, death ***Not all warnings are listed to prevent spoilers***

Comments: Your new landscaper is hiding a secret: that your soon-to-be ex husband has hired him to kill you. Wanting the inheritance he can’t touch and being divorced for infidelity, he hires Pero Tovar to kill you. Pero finds it harder to kill you than he anticipated, especially when he falls into your bed, and you manage to get under his skin right before the Halloween festival your resort puts on every year. 

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers​

|| MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Jerry. Have those pumpkins been delivered?” You call out to your resort manager who walks past your office. “Yes ma’am. They came in this morning. We are working on the maze for the festival and we need you to finalize the menu for the snacks for the kids.” Jerry tells you and you grin, “you know how much I love Oreo pudding and gummy worms.” You wink, knowing the chef will go out of his way to make the snacks Halloween themed. 

“Oh and the new landscaper will be arriving today. Pero Tovar.” Jerry tells you and you turn back to your computer for a moment. 

“Send him to me when he arrives. I need to discuss the trees that need to be planted in the south side of the property.” 

Jerry nods, “yes Mrs. -” You raise your eyebrows at your resort manager. 

“Miss. Well, not technically but soon to be.” You scoff, relieved that the divorce is in process. Jerry nods nervously and shuffles off, leaving you to your emails. You own The Rosewood Lodge. A luxury resort in the mountains that caters to the wealthy. Built and established by your father, you’d inherited the resort after he passed and you’ve been running it ever since. It’s hard work but it’s your home, all you’ve ever known, and you are determined to ensure its success.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Pero admires the changing leaves and colors of fall as he makes his way up the winding road to the lodge. It’s exclusive, ritzy. The type of place that he would never be allowed in, except for the cover he was maintaining, landscaper. His mamá’s obsession with her gardens being put to work in the most surprising of ways. To kill a woman. 

He didn’t care for the particulars. An upset husband not wanting to pay out a divorce settlement because he couldn’t keep his cock to himself - also greedy for the resort his wife inherited and was untouchable by the prenup. He didn’t care. What he did care about was that he was getting one million dollars to kill her. He smirks to himself and turns up the radio as he continues to drive towards The Rosewood Lodge, ready for a laughably easy hit.

You look up when there’s a knock on your door, your assistant standing there with a presence behind her. “Mr. Tovar, ma’am.” She introduces him and you stand up, “thank you Kellie. Ah welcome.” You reach out to shake his hand and his dark eyes are friendly, his grip light and your stomach twists with something unknown. 

“Thank you Mrs.-” 

You sigh, correcting him like you did your manager. “I’m technically Mrs. Thompson but I’m getting divorced so please.” You tell him to call you by your first name to make things easier. “Welcome to Rosewood. I will have the bellboy show you to your quarters. All the staff live on the property unless they opt not to and you are welcome to a room. I am told you are one of the best in the business so I am looking forward to hearing your ideas.”

Pero nods, surprised by his reaction to you. You are pretty, gorgeous really, although he would never pair you with your husband. You look like complete opposites and that might be while you are divorcing and your husband wants to kill you. “I looked around on the drive in. There are several things we can do before the winter snows set in.”

“Perfect. Right now, we are preparing for our Halloween festival next week so the landscapers are working on the maze if you want to include your input. We are full steam ahead before the snow arrives. When that happens, we are in a holding pattern until spring. Do you have any experience in snowy climates? Your resumé said you’ve been to Asia and assisted the wealthy there with their shrubbery.” You recall his resumé. He’s handsome, in that rugged kind of way, but there’s something in his dark eyes that you can’t put your finger on.

“My childhood was in the mountains in my home country.” He reveals, eager to get close to you so he can find a weakness. It has nothing to do with the interest that he sees in your eyes. “While it does not translate to work, but I have experience.”

You bite your lip, swallowing down the saucy retort that you’d like to see that experience. You think he’s sexy in a mysterious way and you know it’s not professional so you push that thought aside. “Glad to hear it.” You settle on that, a smile on your face as you try to navigate this so you don’t embarrass yourself. Ever since you caught Richard cheating, you haven’t had sex and it is getting to you now but you promised yourself you wouldn’t be like Richard, you’d be divorced before you found someone to share your bed. “I will let you get settled in and then Jerry will introduce you to the landscaping team. Welcome to Rosewood, Mr. Tovar.” You hold your hand out towards him.

Your grip is firm and Pero squeezes slightly and he shakes your hand and nods. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly, pulling away and turning around to leave your office. He needs to keep up appearances before he decides how he will take care of you. One million dollars depends on it.

****

“Tea, ma’am.” Kelly brings in the tray of tea and you thank her, looking forward to the refreshment after a long day of meetings to prepare for this Halloween festival along with negotiating a new food contract. It’s been exhausting. Kelly leaves and you look up when you see Pero standing on your threshold, his hand raised after he knocked on the door. He’s been talking to the landscapers over the past day or so and you’re eager to hear his thoughts. “Come, sit down.”

Pero shouldn’t be nervous to talk to you, he’s talked to so many targets before. Looked them in the eyes and smiled, laughed and joked with them right before dispatching them to their early grave, so it’s ridiculous that he has the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans. He walks over, noticing that you have a tray of tea and refreshments that he had been seeing set at the tables in the opulent dinner room. “I don’t want to interrupt.” He lies, knowing you will insist he join you. You are that type of person. “I can come back later.”

“No. Please. Come join me. I’ll fetch another cup for you.” You tell him, knowing there’s a spare cup in the staff break room that’s not the elegant china but you don’t care. You stand up, “pour yourself the cup and I will be right back so we can discuss your thoughts.” You insist, walking out of your office to the staff room, quickly finding a spare cup. You come back to your office, finding a cup already poured by Pero. 

“Please, take this cup. I insist. A beautiful woman deserves beautiful china.” He charms you and you smile, “thank you Pero.” You reach for the other cup, pouring him some tea and setting it back down in front of him.

He waits for you to doctor your tea the way you prefer, taking only a lemon for himself and he can’t help but sigh at the first sip of the fragrant brew. It is a blend that reminds him of his time in China. “I have been looking over the plans for the maze for your Halloween party.” He tells you. “There are several ways we can improve the design and add for a quick exit if necessary.” He’s already sketched it out and he shuffles forward so he can pull the folded paper from his back pocket.

You don’t touch your tea right away, not liking it piping hot, and you reach for the folded piece of paper. You take in his design and you smile, “I love it. It looks difficult but not impossible. Just what we need. Something spooky but not scary for the families.” You pick up your cup, about to take a sip after you set his design down on your desk but your phone rings and you set your cup down. “Jerry?” You answer, “yes. Okay. I can come over there now.” You sigh, looking at Pero as you put the phone down. “Guest issue. Wants to see the owner.” You roll your eyes and stand up. “I love the design. Stay here. Finish your tea.” You order and pick up your cup, pouring it in the plant in your office as you walk out.

There is a small chance you have a camera in your office, but he doubts it. He hadn’t seen any when he first arrived and he had looked. It was ingrained in him through years of work. Quickly springing up, he rounds the desk to start going through your planner, taking notes of meetings with your lawyer and various other appointments. All seemingly related to your business or your divorce. He chuckles and shakes his head, pulling the small vial out of his pocket and dumping the poison into your tea. It would be quick and painless, making this a relatively easy job for him. Putting everything back where it was, he sits back down where he was and picks up his tea cup.

When you return about ten minutes later, you decide to have another cup of tea. Pero is still in your office, patiently waiting and it makes you smile that he doesn’t rant and rave that his time is precious like most men would. “Sorry that took so long. Some prick thought he was important enough for a suite when he only paid for a room. Some new tech guy from Silicon Valley who thinks he’s hot shit.” You roll your eyes and pour yourself another cup of tea. “Where were we? Oh yes. The trees. Any idea on what you are thinking?” You ask, picking up the cup to take a sip when your phone rings. “Sorry Pero. Let me- hello?” You answer the phone. “What? No. He can’t do that. We aren’t - the divorce is in process. That doesn’t mean he can take the money - fine. Okay. More paperwork.” You huff, slamming the phone down and the cup of tea is abandoned again. “Sorry Pero. The trees?”

Pero tilts his head, curious if you would tell him anything about your divorce. Not that he cares, but often when someone is telling a story, they drink. “It sounds as if you are having a rough time with your soon to be ex-husband.” He commiserates. “I understand, my friend - his divorce was nasty.” A complete lie, his only friend is still happily married to his wife.

You usually wouldn’t indulge in personal issues with your staff but your blood is boiling. “My damn soon to be ex husband wants to take the money from our joint savings account and invest in some harebrained private jet company that doesn’t have any other backing or any credentials and there’s nothing I can do to stop it since he still has access to that account and I cannot block him until we are divorced.” You rub your forehead, “I didn’t cheat. He’s the one who decided to fuck one of the housekeepers before he told me I wasn’t hot enough for him and I - you don’t want to listen to this.”

He snorts and shakes his head. Rich men apparently all needed to have their egos stroked as often as possible by anyone. “That was a lie.” He tells you confidently. “It was about power. Over you, over the housekeeper.” He rolls his eyes over how obvious that is to him. “Call the IRS to review the account.” It doesn’t matter to him what he says right now, you will be dead within the hour - before you can call anyone. “They will freeze the account and he cannot touch it.”

You stare at him, surprised he knows that, and you nod. “That is…not a bad idea. He can’t just invest five million dollars into some college kid’s dream.” You shake your head and sigh, looking down at the cup of tea. Pero looks down at it too, silently urging you to pick it up and drink. “Ugh. He’s put me off of my tea now. He’s a prick. Sorry. Would you-? Can we discuss the trees later?” You ask, tilting your head at Pero whose dark eyes flick up to meet yours. God, he’s far too handsome and you are off limits. You’ve put yourself on the shelf.

Pero nods, covering his frown slightly by setting the tea cup down. He wanted to stay while you drank the poison, making sure that none discovered you until it was too late, but he does not want to make you suspicious. “I understand.” He murmurs softly, standing and towering over your seated form behind your desk. The poison will work regardless if he is in the room or not. “I will be working late if you wish to talk later.” He tells you before bowing his head slightly and turning to walk out of your office to leave you to your fate, ignoring the slightly curdling of his stomach. 

You watch him go, admiring his broad shoulders, and you sigh, looking down at the tea. No longer wanting it, you pick it up and put it in your plant like you always do with your cold tea. You need to push Pero out of your mind, you don’t need to have distractions and he is a distraction. You huff and go back to typing up an email to your accountant about this stupid investment. Perhaps Pero’s idea isn’t too bad after all. With a hum, you begin typing, knowing it’s going to be a long day. When the hour hits past dinner, you step away from your desk, deciding to seek out some food before you collapse in your bed, and that’s where you find Tovar. In the dining room, now open to the staff since the guests are in the bars or in bed. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Tovar.” You greet him with a smile.

“You as well.” He manages to keep his cool, wondering if no one had been in your office since he had left to discover your body but he has his answer. You must have ignored the tea and not drank it. He curses internally but he motions toward the extra seat at his table. Everyone else was split off into groups but Tovar had avoided joining them, claiming that he wanted solitude. “You are welcome to join me, discuss those trees now.” 

You glance around before you sit down, drawn to this man in an unexplainable way. You've never had this instant draw before, not even with Richard. "Please, finish your food before we discuss business." You tell him and one of the waiters comes over to take your order. You look at Pero after you've ordered. "So...how are you settling in so far?" You ask.

He shrugs and takes a bite of his overflowing plate. The buffet the kitchens provided is scaled down, not nearly as luxurious as what the guests eat, but is delicious and plentiful. Pero was going to take advantage of free meals while he could. “I am settling.” He says after he swallows. “The accommodations are generous and not too many people have balked at the sight of me.” He knows he looks dangerous with the large scar over his eye, but he does not try to hide it. It is a part of who he is and he is good enough at his job that he has never been on any government lists. 

You are pleased that he likes it here, for some unknown reason, and you file that away to process it later. He’s mysterious and intriguing and you are desperate to know more. “Anyone who balks at you, please let me know. We are a diverse staff and people shouldn’t stare because you have a scar. How - I hope you don’t think I’m being impetuous but how did you get that scar? If you’d rather not answer, I don’t mind.” You assure him before thanking the waiter who sets your meal down.

“Compulsory service.” When he’s in situations like this, the less lies he tells about himself, the better off he is. For him to be in the military in Spain prior to 2000 wasn’t unusual even though it was not the normal thing in the US. “There was an accident with weapons training.” He gives a small shrug, although at the time, it had seemed like a life changing thing. “Luckily, it did not cost me my eye.” 

“That was lucky. Well, it hasn’t taken away from your handsome face.” You say without even thinking about it and you swallow, hoping he doesn’t think you’ve stepped over the line. He’s your employee and you can’t be taking advantage.

Pero smirks, watching you shift slightly in your chair in embarrassment. Obviously not meaning to blurt that out. “It is good to know that you find me handsome, hermosa.” He rasps out before he takes another bite of his dinner. Maybe flirting with you will help him get closer and he’s not opposed to flirting with a pretty woman. It was almost a shame that you were going to be gone so soon. Again, he ignores the way his stomach rolls slightly at the prospect.  

You fluster, picking up your fork to start eating and you moan at the taste of the mashed potato. The chefs really put something good in it tonight. “Sorry. I haven’t really eaten all day. Too busy.” You apologize. “I gotta go out tomorrow and meet the party supply people for the festival.” You sigh, knowing it’s never ending.

He had heard all about your resort from your husband, listening politely while the man ranted about how it should be under the umbrella of his hotel chain. About how you were driving it into the ground and he could manage it so much better. However, he hasn't seen anything like that since he has been here. “Is your festival popular?” He asks, having seen how quickly the staff were moving to get ready for it. 

You nod, “very. All of the local towns come up to celebrate Halloween and we also have a Holiday festival in December so they are a great time for the locals to get together with the guests. My father started the tradition and it’s endured ever since. My soon to be ex hated them. Thought it was ridiculous to invite the locals and wanted it to be more exclusive but I never wanted us to alienate ourselves from the locals. They are all important to the operation of this resort.”

He doesn’t see the harm in letting the locals participate, especially because most of the staff seem to be from the area. However, he wasn’t in charge and soon, your husband could do whatever he wanted. “I see.” He hums, watching as you take another bite of your dinner. “Sounds like he’s a pretentious ass.” 

You scoff, “and then some. I don’t know what I saw in him. Maybe I thought he could understand me because he came from a similar background but he relied on his daddy’s money too much. Didn’t want to work hard and then, when I caught him with the housekeeper, I realized I never loved him. Clearly, he didn’t love me either. I was a means to an end. A way to get this resort and I know he wants this resort in the divorce but the prenup is iron clad.”

If you only knew the lengths he would go to get the resort. Pero shakes his head and scoffs slightly to make you believe that he sides with you. “At least you did not waste your life with him, or have ties beyond a wedding vow.” He knows you don’t have kids, it had been one of his questions. He will kill anyone, but he won’t potentially put a kid at risk. He has some morals after all. 

“Thank God I didn’t get pregnant. Mind you, he rarely touched me. Said he was too tired from work. Even said several times that I wasn’t hot enough to turn him on. Turns out he was getting his dick wet in other women. God, I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear this.” You shake your head, taking another bite of food and cursing yourself for being so unprofessional.

Pero snorts, throwing you a smirk and trying to ignore the way his cock twitches at the idea that it’s been awhile for you. Having you think he was interested and him being interested were two different things and a very delicate line to walk. “So he was a blind moron as well.” He huffs, pinning you with a serious stare. “You are a woman who should be fucked thoroughly and often.” 

His words steal your breath and you inhale sharply. After a moment, you smirk, leaning closer to him. “I am technically a married woman so I wouldn’t fuck you unless I was single but if I could, you’d be the kind of man I’d want to destroy me.”

He likes your boldness, his eyes dropping down to your lips and his tongue slides against his own bottom one to wet it. He could see you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock. “Technically that is between you and God.” He murmurs. “Once you are filed for divorce, you are single to me.” 

His words make you ponder and the way he’s looking at you has you ready to abandon your morals but you don’t want to give your husband any reason to question the divorce. He’d likely say it’s adultery. You don’t want to take that risk. You can’t risk the resort, everything your dad has worked so hard for.

You don’t comment, flustering and looking down at your plate in a way that is intriguingly innocent. He decides to have mercy on you and changes the subject. “If you were to take the northwest corner of the property, you could transplant some already mature furs. Fraser, Balsam, Noble, whatever you wanted. You could either create a seasonal Christmas maze where they are surrounded by decorated trees in the snow, or you could start harvesting them for your guests to take home or have spread throughout the resort.” He offers. 

You like the idea, “that sounds like an excellent idea. Perhaps we can give the trees away to people who cannot afford a tree.” You smile, “perhaps we can have the Christmas maze too. Make an event around it.” You tell him, leaning in a little closer. “Can we get that done before this year? If we bring in the mature trees.”

He treats it like a real scenario, like you were actually going to be around for Christmas. He doesn’t mind spending the money on things that will not matter to him once this place is in your husband’s hands. He purses his lips and nods. “It will be expensive, but the draw of the crowds for a Christmas maze or festival would balance that out, I believe?” He says, tilting his head as he waits for your answer. 

You nod, “let me have the accountants run the numbers. Off the top of my head I believe it will be fine but I want to double check. Our winter fete is always popular. We will more than cover the overheads but I want to be certain. Can you get started on a layout?” You ask, taking another bite of food.

He smirks, thinking about what needs to be done in order to lay it out. “I will go up there in the morning and start staking it out.” He tells you. “Estimating how many trees we would need plus fifteen percent.” He lifts his brows. “Transplanting mature trees involves a little more risk.” 

You nod, understanding the risks. “Let me know tomorrow when you have the numbers. I am heading into town tomorrow around 11 so find me after to discuss.” You finish eating, gulping down the water before you stand, taking your own plate, “have a good night, Mr. Tovar.” 

“Goodnight.” He murmurs, watching you walk out of the room with a smirk on his face. You are heading into town, a perfect opportunity for you to have an accident. Brakes can be tricky and he knows how to tamper with them without making it too obvious. Tovar finishes his own dinner and quickly stands. He knows where you are parked and he wants to inspect that spiffy little car. It would be a shame if you didn’t slow down going around that tight curve halfway down the mountain. 

The next morning, you have breakfast and look out towards the beginning of the festival being built for Halloween. You sip your coffee, pleased with how everything is coming together and you are excited to start planning the Holiday festival soon after the Halloween one. You already have a costume picked out for Halloween, something sexy yet dignified enough for the boss. When you glance up at the clock, you sigh. You don’t have time to go and meet with the vendors. You call Jerry, asking him to rearrange the meeting and also ask him to have the bellboy, Derek, take your car for a detail. You haven’t had it washed in a while and you know the nineteen year old is eager to drive your car whenever he can.

Pero smirks when the car is missing from the usual parking spot as he comes back to the main lodge. Knowing that you have left for your meeting in town, he can guarantee you won’t be coming back. He whistles as he starts to enter the lodge, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees you walking out of your office.

You are frowning, glancing down the hall. “Ah Pero. Perhaps you can look at my plant. It’s…it’s dead. I have no idea why. I always water it and care for it and this morning, I came in and it’s dead.” You ignore the way his eyes are shocked and you continue on. “Maybe I shouldn’t have watered it with my tea.” You ponder, glancing back down the hall. “Do you need something?”

The fucking tea. Pero nods and wonders why the hell you are here if your car is not. “I- I have the number of trees we will need to order.” He tells you, frowning slightly and looking at his watch. “I thought you would be in town.” He comments.

You barely pay attention to what he said, your mind whirling a mile a minute and you look at him. “Oh, Derek took my car into town to valet it. I don’t get much time and it’s been a while since it was cleaned.” You admit, “plus I know he loves taking it for a spin.” You chuckle, watching as Jerry strides down the hall. 

“Something’s happened.” Jerry declares and you frown. “What?” You ask and Jerry rubs his cheek. “Derek has been in an accident. He - he was driving your car and he - he drove off of the cliff.” 

You gasp, “he drove off of a cliff? Is he - is he alive?” You ask. 

Jerry bites his lip, “we don’t know. We are waiting on an update from his family.”

Guilt is not something Pero deals in but his gut curls with it. You were supposed to be in that car, not Derek. He’s a boy, an innocent one. He shuffles slightly and looks over at you. “Do you… want to go down to the hospital?” He asks you. “Sit with the family?”

You are in shock, guilt threatening to overwhelm you and you swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes. “It’s my fault. I - I sent him out. I sent him out to get my car washed. God, to get my fucking car washed and now he - oh God.” You choke, feeling so responsible. “I need to go to the hospital. I need to know what happened.”

Pero puts aside the task that he was sent to her for the moment. Right now, he wants to see if the boy survived, and needs to know it. He nods. “I will take you.” He assures you. “You are in no condition to drive.” You are too upset and as crazy as it sounds, he doesn’t want you to have impaired judgment. “Get whatever you need.”

You nod, tears dropping down your cheeks and you walk back into your office to grab your purse, wiping your eyes as you walk back into the hall. “Thank you for taking me.” You tell Pero, knowing he’s being kind and you follow him out to his car, still crying and worrying about Derek.

Tovar opens the door to the car to let you in the passenger seat. “Of course.” He murmurs softly, knowing that this is the time to try to hash out exactly why he is doing this. “We will get there and see that the boy is fine.” He promises with a surety that he doesn’t feel. He closes the door and rounds the hood to climb in beside you to start the engine.

You buckle your seatbelt, wiping your eyes again as Pero starts to drive. “I, uh, i can tell you where the hospital is.” Your voice is croaky and you are silent for most of the descent down the mountain. When you drive past the broken barrier, your car now smashed on the boulders below, you sob. Praying for Derek’s safety and the fact that that could’ve been you. “Oh God. I - I shouldn’t - he shouldn’t have gone. That should’ve been me.” You choke, grasping your chest.

“Don’t think that way.” Pero reaches out and takes your hand. He had done it unconsciously and when his fingers slid between yours, he wouldn’t dream of pulling away. Not when it seems to comfort you a bit. “It was an accident, you can’t think that way.”

His hand in yours comforts you even though you didn’t even know the man this time twenty four hours ago. There’s something about him that makes you feel secure, that he’s capable. More like a security guard than a gardener. You swallow, throat dry from your tears, “I need to know what happened. I don’t - he’s young but he’s not stupid enough to joyride in this road. He knows it’s dangerous.”

“Could have been an animal, anything.” He offers, squeezing your hand as he winds down the side of the mountain and heads into town. Your concern for your employee is admirable, surprising really. You worry about the boy as if he were related to you. “Left?” He asks, coming up to the light and needing directions.

“Yes. Then right. It’s pretty close to the main road.” You sniffle, sitting up straight as you try to prepare yourself to face Derek’s family. “Thank you Pero.” You pat his hand with your other one before you withdraw your hands as he parks in a spot. “You didn’t have to come here with me.” You tell him as you enter the hospital.

“You could spare me.” He offers, knowing that any of the staff would have volunteered to bring you. They were all fiercely loyal to you, none of them having a harsh word to say. He had tried to find someone who had a beef with you, but according to all, you were a firm but fair boss.

You smile, patting his arm and ask the desk for Derek’s room. When you make your way down the hall, his parents are waiting there. “How is he?” You ask and his mother has tears in her eyes. 

“He’s stable but - but he crashed into a tree. They don’t - they are waiting to see if he wakes up. He has broken bones and - oh my baby boy.” She sobs and tears sting in your eyes again. 

“I’m so sorry. I - I asked him to take my car to get it cleaned. I know he loves driving it so I figured - oh God. It’s my fault.” You choke and a police officer approaches you, saying your name. “Yes?” You frown. 

“I need to speak with you privately.” 

You nod, “anything you want to say can be said here. All of these people are my friends.” You declare and the officer sighs but concedes. 

“We recovered the car. Someone looked at it when we were moving it onto the tow truck and…ma’am, our mechanic said the brakes had been cut. Is there anyone you know who would want to harm you?” His next words fade into the background as you process the news. Someone tried to kill you. 

“Oh God.” You sway, feeling a little sick, trying to process still.

Pero hisses though his teeth quietly, wondering what the fuck happened. He had made sure that the cut was ragged, not looking like something that had been done on purpose. He shakes his head as the police officer looks over at him and he reaches for your arm. “Have you had anyone angry at you lately, hermosa?” He asks softly, not bringing up your soon to be ex husband. “Vendors, environmental groups? Guests?”

You swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes again. “N-no. No one that I know of. Oh God. Someone tried to - they wanted to - oh God.” You feel sick and Pero turns you towards him and away from the officer. 

“It’s okay hermosa. Just breathe for me. Think. Anyone you know who wants to harm you?” He asks, glancing back at the police officer. You swallow, hiccuping as you try to calm down. 

“No. Well, maybe…there was a - an issue with a guest who tried to - to scam us. He wanted a suite and ordered champagne and room service. His card declined so we called the police when he refused to pay. When he was arrested, he screamed that he’d kill us but that threat was directed to my soon to be ex husband too.”

He rubs your back, trying to keep you calm, directing you away from the thought that someone is trying to kill you. Ironic considering the man touching you is that person. 

The police officer nods and writes it down on his notepad. “We will look up the report, contact information of the suspect.” 

Pero nods to the officer as he pulls you against his chest, trying to offer you some comfort and make his own guilt seem nonexistent.”She will be back at the lodge this evening, if you need to talk to her again.” He assures the officer before he walks away. “It’s okay, nothing is going to happen to you.” 

Tovar’s touch calms you down and you manage to calm your racing heart. “Thank you for being here. I don’t - I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” You squeeze his hand and approach Derek’s parents. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” You tell them and his mother steps forward. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not your fault. He - my boy loves working for you. Comes home happy every day and he loves your car. He - he will be fine.” She assures herself and you, trying to be strong. 

“I will pay for any medical bills. If you need anything, you tell me.” You reach out to hold her hands and squeeze when she begins to protest. “He’s such a sweet boy. Truly, one of my best employees. I want to make sure he’s taken care of.”

Pero swallows, guilt nearly making him open his mouth but he doesn’t. Reminding himself about the money. It would be enough to let him retire, to give up this life and to try to make amends for the evil he has done. Even though he feels that this is wrong. You shouldn’t have a hit on you and it shouldn’t be him that is contracted. You are too good for this. He watches as you give the boy’s mother a hug, wondering if he can cancel the contract, or delay it until the divorce is final. Then it would be void. 

You step back from the parents, knowing it’s best to leave them be at a time like this. “Please let me know how he is.” You plead and she nods, “we will. Thank you so much for coming.” 

You nod and step back, letting Pero guide you away from them and towards the entrance of the hospital. “Thank you for bringing me, Pero. I appreciate it.” You tell him, a grateful smile on your face and you remind yourself that he works for you. His kindness is to his boss, not to you as a person.

“Of course, hermosa.” He murmurs, his hand on your back twitching slightly at the beaming smile on your face. Even if you have red rimmed eyes, your kindness shows and it makes him feel lower than the dirt on the bottom of your shoe. “I am sure many others would have jumped to do anything for you as well.” He reminds you, knowing how much everyone loves you. 

“Yes but you are here and I - I am glad it’s you. You are comforting.” You tell him, letting him guide you back towards his car. You get in after he opens the door and you are soon making your way back to the resort. You know you have to get back to work but you are still worried about Derek. The fact that someone tried to kill you by cutting your brakes has you terrified and you briefly wonder if your husband is behind this but even he isn’t that evil. You had loved him enough to marry him so you hope he felt the same. He wouldn’t be trying to kill you. “Thank you Tovar.” You say when he pulls up outside of the resort and you lean over to kiss his cheek.

“Anytime.” He turns his head, lips closer to yours and all it would take is leaning an inch to kiss you. But your words about still being married break through his thoughts and he pulls back. He can’t afford to get emotionally involved with you. Looking up at the sky, he frowns at the dark clouds in the distance. “Looks like we have weather that will be here later on.” He murmurs. “I should finish overseeing the landscaping before the storm tonight.”

You look up at the sky and shiver. You hate thunderstorms. Always have since you were a little girl. You swallow harshly and look back at Pero. “I best get back to work. Thanks again.” You step away from him and your heart is pounding in your chest as you walk away, focusing on what needs to be done today instead of Derek laying in a hospital bed because of you, and you certainly don’t need to think about Pero Tovar.

Pero wipes his forehead, standing straight and panting as he surveys the work. The grounds are ready for a deluge of rain, as much as they can be. The clouds are darker and he turns to the rest of the staff. “Let’s get these tools put away.” He tells them. “I don’t see us working for the next day or so.” The rains will continue for at least 36 hours so it was going to be a slow few days.

The rains continue to roll in after dinner. You don’t see Pero around and remind yourself that you shouldn’t be looking for him. He is off limits despite you finding yourself thinking of those dreamy dark eyes, so full of something you can’t quite figure out. The mystery intrigues you and you find yourself drawn to him. When the thunder claps overhead, you shake, deciding to make your way back to your quarters and hide under the covers. Storms have always brought anxiety for you, the sounds, the lightning, it’s all too much and you find yourself shaking as you gather your things and walk down the hallways. Richard always used to make fun of you for being so scared, saying it was childlike behavior.

When he runs into you, you look almost frantic. Wiping his hands on a rag as he drips from rain that had caught him as he was getting out of his car. “Hermosa, did the boy take a turn for the worst?” He asks, reaching out and stopping you.

You whimper, shaking your head. “No. No change. I just - I just hate the storms. Always have. Makes me - I don’t like them. Ever since I was a kid.” You ramble slightly, clinging to his upper arms. “Sorry. I -  I am sure you are heading back to your room.”

“I am.” He acknowledges, feeling you flinch when another crack of Thunder bursts out. “Do you want to have some company?” He asks. “I need to shower but I can sit with you. If you don’t like the storm, you shouldn’t be alone.” He doesn’t know why he offered, especially because he isn’t trying to get closer to you to kill you. He just wants the panicked look to change into that smile again. “I can be quick or you can come with me to my room.” There’s nothing in his room to give away who he is, so the offer is safe.

"I, uh, would like that. I don't want to be alone but maybe...would you mind coming to my room? I can - I can order us some tea and we can talk about the, uh, the landscaping. Anything to get my mind off of the storm. I need to shower too so shall we meet in my room in twenty minutes?" You suggest, biting your lip at the thought of him in your room but you would rather that than be seen sneaking out of his room.

Pero knows what room you are in, all the staff's rooms are marked clearly so there are no mistakes. “Twenty minutes.” He leans in and kisses your forehead, wanting to reassure you. “I will be quick. Then we will take your mind off the storm.”

You nod, watching him go before you make your way to your room, shaking when another flash of lightning covers your dark room and the thunder rumbles as you turn on the lamp. Yours is a suite complete with a sitting area and small kitchenette. The place you’ve always lived and Richard had insisted you move to a house near the resort but you’ve lived here your entire life. You won’t leave. This was the suite your parents had. 

You rush into the bathroom, taking off your makeup and stepping under the shower, letting the hot water and steam work your tense muscles after such an emotionally stressed day that seems endless with the storm outside. You get out and dry off, pondering what to wear since Pero is coming and you bite your lip, settling on a silk nightie and your silk dressing gown. Different than your usual tank top and shorts but you have a feeling about tonight. You don’t want to risk your divorce going wrong but there’s something about Pero that makes your heart race. You haven’t decided yet if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. There’s a quick knock on the door and you pad over to the door, opening it to find Pero waiting for you.

His eyes widen slightly and he inhales when he sees your robe. Silky and sexy, it’s not exactly comfort you were going for. Especially not compared to the gray sweatpants and t-shirt he had opted for, his hair still dripping water because he wanted to shave his face except for his mustache. “Hermosa.” He murmurs breathlessly. “May I come in?”

You nod, stepping aside and your heart is pounding in your chest as he pushes past you. You close the door behind him and turn to look at him, his shoulders stretching the white t-shirt he is wearing and you lick your lips, the atmosphere heavy. “I, um, can make us some tea.” You didn’t want to order it on second thought, just in case people start to talk. You turn away from him, walking to the kitchenette to turn on the electric kettle and the lightning flashing makes you flinch.

“If you want.” Pero looks around your room, noting how homey and cozy it seems. “This is a nice room.” He compliments, figuring distracting you by talking about it might help. It’s cute that you are scared of the storm and he can think of a lot more fun ways to distract you, if you were willing.

You smile, waiting on the kettle to boil. “Thank you. This room belonged to my parents and once my dad passed and I took over the resort, it felt right to move in here. My ex…he didn’t like it. Wanted a big mansion down the mountain but this is my home. I like cozy. Richard wanted modern and sleek. He wanted to make the resort like that but it’s in the mountains. People want cozy.” You sigh, reaching for two cups.

“That is the point of the mountains, no?” Pero asks. “Getting away from life and slowing down, relaxing.” He has enjoyed the crisp air and the resort is extremely comfortable. Luxury without pretentiousness. It was a perfect balance in his opinion. “To blend in with nature.”

You like that Pero understands the resort, unlike Richard who believed it was just another one of his hotels…a money making machine. For you, it’s your home. “To relax and not worry about life. That’s the aim. That’s what I want to give people.” You explain, turning back to work on preparing the tea. You don’t hear Pero step over to you, his fingers ghosting a touch along your arm and it makes you stop what you are doing. Pausing, you wait for his next move. 

“What about you, hermosa? Who helps you relax and not worry about life?” His voice deepens and you try to not shiver. 

“No- no one.” You answer, throat dry and you shiver when another thunder rolls through but it’s Tovar, not the thunder that makes you shake.

He can feel the goosebumps start to break out on your skin. He feels like that conversation he had with you, all of them, have you second guessing your decision to not take a lover. “And me?” He asks, leaning in to press his front against your back and his nose bumps along the length of your neck. “If I could help you relax? Take your mind off everything, the ex, the storm, the business. Would you let me?” His hands slide down to your waist and he holds them there, waiting for your answer.

Your eyes close, unconsciously leaning back against him. He’s unlike any man you’ve ever met. Something about him draws you to him like a moth to a flame. “Yes.” You respond breathlessly, turning in his arms so you can face him. “I want you to be my distraction. I want you to help me relax.” You answer, leaning closer and tilting your head so your lips are a breadth away from his, your heavy breaths mingling.

Pero smirks. “Good girl.” His lips aren’t gentle when he kisses you. He’s bold, slightly forceful but he would back off if you resisted. It was more to overwhelm you. To take your mind off the storm and focus on nothing but him.

You moan into his mouth, your hands immediately tangling in his damp hair and you press yourself against him. His tongue invades your mouth, his hands sliding down to grab your ass and it’s too much and not enough all at once. “Pero.” You moan when he kisses along your jaw, his hands sneaking under the nightdress to grab your ass.

Humming, Pero continues to kiss your skin, massaging and spreading the cheeks of your ass while he starts throbbing against your hip. Once kiss, one desperately flavored kiss and he is harder than he should have been.

You whimper when he kisses along your throat. “Pero.” You gasp when he bites down on the juncture of your shoulder and your neck. His chuckle against your skin is dark and has you shivering, the thunder and lightning long forgotten until it makes a reappearance and you shake, closing your eyes. 

His hands slide down to your thighs, lifting you up to carry you over to your bed. “You need to relax, hermosa.” He orders as he lays you down on the bed. 

“Make me.” You challenge, sitting up on your elbows to look at him while he stands at the foot of your bed.

He smirks as he looks down at you. Your lips already kiss swollen and there’s enough of a fire in your eyes that makes him want to tear you apart, make you forget everything but his name. It has been a long time for you and he is cocky enough that he wants to make sure you never forget Pero Tovar being in your bed. He coos as he reaches for the hem of your nightgown, your robe sliding off your shoulders. “This is a pretty little thing, hermosa.” He rasps, gripping it in his fists and ripping it up the middle to get to your body.

Your gasp echoes in the room, unable to believe he just ripped your nightgown to get to your body. “Pero!” You don’t move to cover yourself, instead you shrug off the robe and the remains of the silk, tossing it aside so you are naked on the bed. You wonder briefly if he likes what he sees since Richard cheated on you and you haven’t had sex since before that fateful day.

Pero groans as he looks down at you. From your tits to the thatch of curls covering your pussy, you are gorgeous. His cock twitches in his sweats and he can feel a bead of precum wet the tip and soak into the material. “Preciosa.” He murmurs, shuffling closer and kneeling on the bed as he slides his hand up. “Spread your legs, hermosa.” He orders. “Show me the pretty pussy I’m going to lick.”

You watch him, chest heaving and heart pounding in anticipation at the way he kneels between your legs, shifting until he is on his stomach and his eyes meet yours as he leans down to take your nipple into his mouth. “Tease.” You joke breathlessly, hands caressing his back and you want to feel all of him but you need to be patient.

He chuckles against your flesh, flicking your nipple with his tongue before biting down on it. He loves the way you gasp, the way your body arches up to the sting of his teeth and he soothes it with a harsh suck. One hand slips between your thighs so his fingers can slide through your damp folds, gathering the wetness and rubbing your clit while he sucks at your breast.

You moan, already so overstimulated. This is more than when you’ve been alone at night, your vibrator or fingers between your thighs. “Oh God.” You cry, hips bucking up into his touch and he chuckles against your breast, making you whine, before he switches to the other tit. 

You’re so responsive to him. So pretty as you moan and squirm under his touch. The pads of his fingers rub slow, deliberate circles over your clit while his ring and pinky fingers push inside you. Groaning over how wet you already are. How tight your walls are clutching his finger and sucking them deeper.

“Oh fuck.” You gasp, reaching down between you to palm his cock through his sweats, eyes widening at the thickness of him through the material and you work to shove your hand inside of the pants, wrapping your fingers around him as he pushes his fingers inside of you, making you whine his name.

Pero growls against your breast, his teeth nipping again and he rocks his hips forward into your grip while his fingers curl up. Your hand is perfect around him, squeezing and stroking him - a little more softly than he would like - but still making him groan.

When his fingers curl up into you, hitting the right spot, you shatter. Crying out his name, your walls clamp down on his digits and you gasp, trying to breathe as the orgasm knocks the air from your lungs, your grip on his cock tightening from the pleasure.

When he pulls off your breast, your nipple is swollen. Bite marks and his saliva covering it and he hums as he looks down, pleased at the sight. “You are beautiful when you cum, hermosa.” He coos, sliding down between your legs and wedging them apart with his shoulder as he pulls his fingers out of you to pop in his mouth. He groans at the taste of you, sucking your juices off every finger and smirking when he finishes. “Ready for another?”

You inhale shakily, watching him as he lays between your thighs, his fingers glistening as they caress your skin. “You don’t - you don’t have to do that.” You promise and he frowns, “why not?” 

You bite your lip, “my ex…he didn’t exactly - said it’s not pleasant.” You try to sugarcoat his words when he actually told you that you tasted sour, that he hated going down on you.

Pero snorts and rolls his eyes, wanting to tell you that your husband is a fucking fool. He doesn’t though, instead he settles in, blowing on your cunt. “Believe me, I want another taste.” He groans. “You taste like ambrosia and I am going to gorge myself.” His tongue buried itself in your folds with a moan.

Your hand immediately finds his hair, tugging as his tongue slides through your folds, flicking against your clit with expertise. You whine, hips bucking until he flings his arm across your stomach to stop you from moving. “Oh fuck, baby.” You gasp when he sucks your clit into his mouth. “Pero. It’s - oh my God.” You’re lost, the storm forgotten as he feasts on your cunt.

He groans into you, pushing his tongue deeper into your soaking cunt. His scalp burns but he loves it, making him lick into you harder and suck on your clit when you tug on his hair and moan his name. The storm rages outside but he doesn’t notice beyond the way the lightning lights up your face.

You gasp when his tongue delves deeper, making your chest heave and you reach up to squeeze your own tits. “Pero. Oh fuck, Pero. It’s so good. So good. Please. I need - need to - to cum.” You plead, the storm growing stronger outside but you are lost in the sensations he’s creating.

He hums, the sound vibrating against your clit and he flicks his tongue against it before he sucks it into his mouth and presses his fingers deep inside you so he can curl them up. Wanting you to cum as his dark eyes watch your face.

You cry out, your body seizing up as he pushes you over the edge. “Oh my - fuck!” You squeal, thighs pressing against Pero’s head as you cum, your entire body shaking as the best orgasm you’ve had in years - even before your marriage - wrecks you and his name is the only thing you can think of at that moment.

He works you through it, wanting you to wring every drop of pleasure from his tongue before he slides inside you. Pressing his fingers deep into your clenching and spasming cunt while you soak them. His tongue lashing your clit again and again.

You have to push his head away when it becomes too much, the sensation making your toes curl and you need a moment to breathe. “Baby. Baby. Baby.” You pant, “please. Give me - I want - want you inside of me.”

Crawling up your body, he grins at the needy plea in your voice, happy that you are thinking of nothing but him. “Gonna fill you up.” He promises, growling as he leans in and bites your bottom lip before he kisses you to soothe it. When he’s settled between your thighs, he lines up and starts to slide in easily.

You moan, needy and loud as he pushes inside of you, making you cling to his shoulders and lift your legs onto his hips, allowing him to sink deeper inside of you. “Oh Pero. You feel so good.” You whimper, kissing his jaw as he allows you a moment to adjust to him. “Fuck me.” You beg, digging your heels into his thighs.

He hisses at your words, bucking his hips for a thrust before he pulls his hips back to slam them back into you. His breath catches at how tight you squeeze him, making him readjust to his elbows so he can set a harsh pace, wanting to see you fall apart again.

His hips slam into the back of your thighs, nearly folding you in half as he sets a hard and deep pace. Your mouth falls open, no sound escaping as he steals the air from your lungs, making you gasp when you finally breathe. “I - oh shit. Yes. Yes. Yes!” You shriek when he pushes deep and hits something incredible. No one has ever fucked you like this.

Baring his teeth, he reaches up and curls his hand under the back of your neck, anchoring himself to you so he can drill into you. Hard and deep with every slap of his hips while he fills you. Wanting to hear you squeal. To feel you gush around him, “give it to me.” He growls, demanding another orgasm from you. The storm rages outside but all he can hear is your cries.

His growl combined with the way his cock is just devastating, sends you over the edge and you scream his name, not even thinking that your employees can hear as you gush around his cock, thighs locked as they shake and you throw your head back into the pillows.

Pero hisses, having to push harder for how tightly your thighs squeeze him. Rocking into you a half dozen more times as his own orgasm mounts. A shudder rocketing up his spine before he growls your name. Pushing his cock as deep as he can inside you, he paints your walls with hot ropes of his sticky seed.

You pant, nails digging into his back as he spills his seed inside of you, making you moan his name. “Fuck. That was-” You have no words. It’s definitely the best sex of your life…which wasn’t hard to achieve but you’ve never ever felt like that before. He’s left you boneless beneath him and all you can do is kiss along his jaw.

Pero grunts in agreement, turning his head and burying it into your neck as he catches his breath. The storm is still raging outside but he hums, more relaxed than he’s been - ever. Even though it’s wrong, he lifts his head up and kisses you tenderly before he gently pulls out of you and rolls to the side, bringing you with him to hold.

You snuggle into his side, all anxiety associated with the storm is gone and you focus on the thump of his heart as you rest your head on his torso, your fingers making circles on his chest. “Thank you.” You murmur, “for taking my mind off of the storm.”

“My pleasure, hermosa.” Pero smiles as he strokes your back gently, enjoying the softness of laying here with you. “I’ll keep you safe from the storm.” He promises, a flash of lighting Illuminating the window. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

**** 

“Oh fuck. Pero!” You cry, grinding back against him as he fucks you from behind. It’s been a week since that night with the thunderstorm and Pero has been in your room every night, making you cum and cry his name. During the day, he’s been out overviewing the upcoming festival and you’ve found out little else about him but you don’t care. You feel like a teenager, sneaking around, but you’ve never felt so alive. “Yessss.” You moan, falling down onto your elbows when he swings his hips.

Slapping your ass, he slams his cock into you again and again, furious at how he has failed at killing you. He’s had the perfect opportunity night after night as he lays in the bed beside you while you sleep and yet he can’t do it. Growling, he pulls out of you and grabs your hips to flip you over. Pinning your legs up on his shoulders, he wraps his hand around your throat and starts to squeeze while he hammers into you again. He’s going to kill you now, just so he can prove to himself that he’s not in too deep, that he can disconnect from the feelings he tries to bury deep.

His grip tightens but combined with his cock and the way your breath is stolen from you, you’re ready to cum. A strangled moan manages to escape and your eyes roll into the back of your head in pleasure as your vision goes blurry. It’s intoxicating and you are so close to cumming, your walls fluttering around his cock as he relentlessly pounds into you.

You don’t push back, instead you are leaning into the curve of his hand. Growling, he squeezes harder, nearly snarling at how fucking eager you are for everything he gives him. Shredding up into your cunt and hitting that sweet spot deep inside you.

He cuts your oxygen supply off and that makes you cum. Clamping down on his cock, you gush from the angle that has him hitting something deep and your mouth opens in a choked cry as you soak his stomach, balls, and the sheets below. Completely unaware of what’s going through his mind, you give into the pleasure.

Surprised that you squirt all over him, Pero releases your neck. Giving one desperate push into you as he shouts your name. Your orgasm sending him over the edge in complete amazement that you just came while he was trying to kill you.

When his hand releases your neck, you gasp in breath, in awe of how hard he made you cum. You can’t move, your entire body jell-o as he works himself through his orgasm and you enjoy the lingering effects of your own. “Fuck.” You pant, voice cracking but a smile appears on your lips as you look at him, reaching up to caress his cheek.

He sighs as he looks down at you, closing his eyes for a moment but it looks as if he is just recovering from the intensity of the moment. He couldn’t even kill you now. Instead of being mad at you, he lunges forward and kisses you roughly, acknowledging that you are perfect. Your husband is wrong and he’s not going to be able to complete the contract. Fuck the money, his arms slide around you and he apologizes through his lips latched onto yours.

You cling to him, just breathing him in, and you can’t believe this is what you’ve been waiting for. You never imagined that this would happen to you. You could fall in love with him easily. 

**** 

“Hey baby. Did you find out if they managed to get those extra lights up? I want this maze to be the best one yet.” You tell Pero, walking over to run your hands along his chest as you look at him, those dark eyes finding yours and you can’t help but smile. “Where’d you go?” You ask him, noticing his distant expression.

**** 

"What do you mean you can't do it?" Pero hears the disgust dripping from the other end of the phone and rolls his eyes. Of course the husband was going to be an asshole about this, but Pero's mind was already made up. 

"I mean that I am canceling the contract." He growls, looking towards the lodge where he is putting the last minute touches on the maze for the festival. "Your wife is not going to be killed by me." He had debated making the call, but he had received a text demanding an update. His phone is pressed to his ear and he kicks at a few rocks on the ground with one foot. 

“I offered you a million dollars! Do you want more money? Do you want one and a half? Or two? I’ll fucking give you two million. That resort is worth twenty from the valuation I got when I was there. Two million dollars. A man like you can’t turn that down.” Richard reasons, his jaw clenched as he tries to convince Pero into killing you.

Pero scoffs, the money not even tempting to him at this point. He’s begrudgingly accepted that he’s in love with you. Luckily there is nothing that would tie Pero back to the contract, the burner phone in his hand is unregistered and after this conversation, it will be destroyed. “I don’t want your money.” He huffs, annoyed that the man will not let this go. “You will be divorced in three days, be grateful that your wife will not try to take money from you.” He has seen the divorce settlement, knows that you are leaving him with much more than you could be given his infidelity. Richard is being greedy. 

Richard chuckles, realizing why the man has had a change of heart. “You’re fucking her, aren’t you?” He asks. 

Pero clenches his jaw, knowing that this is a fine line. Part of him wants to tell Richard he’s fucking you to make him regret cheating, another part of him wants to claim you, tell the other man how hard you cum. He doesn’t though, knowing it will cause more trouble. “Goodbye sir.” Pero says, hanging up the phone and he removes the battery and SIM card from the burner, tossing them both into the trash that is being picked up at any moment.

****

Pero looks down at your hand on his chest and smiles softly, covering it with his own. “I went to make sure that everything is perfect for opening night.” He lies easily. While he had been up at the maze, he had been well away from everyone else while he was having his conversation with Richard. “The lights are strung and the booth for apple cider is ready to hand out cups of steaming cider.”

“Perfect. I cannot wait for tonight. A proper celebration before we celebrate me being divorced…finally.” You kiss his jaw and step back from him with a smirk. “Wait until you see my Halloween outfit, baby.” You wink, having decided to use the event to come out as a couple with Pero. He’s dressing as Gomez from the Addams Family and you, Morticia. Your dress is sexy yet appropriate for work, tight in all the right places. With a smile, you step back once again. “We best get back to work for the final details then I’ll see you later. Your outfit is in your room.” You tell him, swaying your hips as you walk away.

Pero growls as he watches your ass, satisfied that he has talked to Richard and he shakes his head at how different his thoughts are from when he first arrived. The boy was released from the hospital earlier today so he can be happy that he hadn’t ruined a young life on a task that he was in no way finishing. Tonight, after the opening of the festival, he plans on telling you that he’s fallen in love with you. 

****

You put the finishing touches on your outfit, waiting for Pero to arrive and escort you to the grand opening of the festival and when there’s a knock on the door, you grin and make your way over to open it. “Hey handsome.” You grin, admiring his slicked back hair and striped suit, his scar adding to his appeal and you are ready to rip it off of him here and now.

His eyes widen and he steps back so he can fully take on the skin tight black dress. It flares about a foot from your shoes and the long sleeves have extra material. A perfect copy of Morticia’s dress, right down to the cleavage you are displaying. His eyes narrow and he decides to play into the role. “Amore,” he growls, stepping forward as if he is about to start dancing and picks up your hand to kiss your wrist and then up your arm. “You are breathtaking, stunning.” He declares, his dark eyes on yours as he leans over your hand. “Allow me to be your footstool and I will be the happiest of men.”

You giggle, loving how he is playing into his costume. “Pero.” You gasp when he leans closer to kiss your neck and down to your cleavage, sliding his tongue along the exposed flesh. “Oh God.” You whimper, gripping onto his arms. “St- stop. We need to - to go open the festival.” You pant, wanting nothing more than to stay here and rip that suit off of him but you can’t, you have duties to follow through on. “Come on baby, let’s - let’s go.” You inhale deeply, gently pushing him away from you and you reach out to cup his cheek, pecking his lips after a moment of looking into those dark eyes you love so much. 

Yes, you love him. You’ve never felt this way before. So happy and like you belong. Everything will be perfect once the divorce is finalized. He pouts, making you chuckle, and you make your way towards the festival outside. It's chilly but you have a coat to keep you warm that fits in with the outfit. The crowd gathers as you walk on stage to open the festival. Pero stands off to the side, watching you as you make your speech. 

“Welcome everyone to the Rosewood Lodge Halloween Festival. We have been preparing this for many weeks now so I’d like to give a round of applause to my wonderful staff who have all worked so hard to accomplish this amazing event.” You clap along with everyone else until the crowd settles. “This lodge has been my family’s home for many years now and I plan to remain here until the day I die. This is my home. Welcome to my home and I hope you enjoy! Go have fun everyone!” You order and they all clap, making you smile as you walk off stage to allow the band to come on and start playing.

Holding out his hand, Pero assists you down the stairs so you don’t trip and sweeps you into his arms. Since he is playing Gomez, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you in front of the staff and guests. His reasoning is that it would be expected “My love,” he insists when he pulls away. “Dance with me.” He pulls your body into a traditional tango and starts to march you towards the dance floor that had been set up.

Your heart is pounding, feeling eyes on you, but you are so proud to be in his arms. Letting him guide you onto the dance floor and his hands pull you close as he begins to dance with you. “I didn’t know you were such a good dancer.” You confess breathlessly, looking at him in surprise. 

He smirks, “there’s a lot you don’t know about me. You’ll find out.” He promises and you nod, enjoying having him pressed against you. 

“Maybe after this dance, we can sneak into the maze.” You whisper, leaning closer and you kiss his jaw.

“As the owner, you should know the maze…intimately.” He murmurs in your ear, pulling you slightly tighter against his body. “I think there is a spot that you need to check out that isn’t visible to the other guests. Maybe we need to make sure guests cannot hear anyone there as well.” The idea of sneaking under your dress is an exciting one. 

You smirk, looking into his eyes as he playfully winks at you. This is such a different version from the grumpy man you first met. You dance, the air heavy between you until the song ends and you lean in to kiss his cheek. "I would like to see the maze now." You tell him, reaching for the hand on your waist when you have an opportunity to leave the dance floor.

Pero lets you drag him off the dance floor, smirking as a few heads turn while you march for the entrance to the maze. He wants to touch you, needs to touch you to reassure himself that he is doing the right thing. He knows he is, but he needs to make you cry out his name again.

When you enter the maze, Pero takes over to drag you through the hedges, guiding you to the secret corner and when you find it, you gasp. It's a little seating area with lanterns and lights. You turn to look at him and he blushes, 

"I wanted to create something just for you." He admits and you surge forward to press your lips to his but not before telling him, "I love you."

Groaning against your lips, Pero shudders in relief. You love him. Everything will be okay because of that. Sweeping you up into his arms, he ignores the rustling of bushes as others pass by the hidden spot, too focused on the way your body is molded to his. “I love you, hermosa.” He whispers as he breaks away from your lips to kiss down your jaw. “I love you.”

He stumbles back to press you against the hedge, the branches hitting your back but you don't care, enjoying the way his tongue slides into your mouth. His hands sneak under your dress and you whimper when he rips it slightly so he can get under it to press his fingers against your clit through your panties. "Fuck baby. I - I need you." You murmur against his jaw, pressing kisses on the clean shaven skin.

Pero chuckles, happy that you are reading his thoughts and he slides your panties to the side so he can slide his fingers into you. There is a small rustle behind him and a low, manic huff of laughter. “I knew you were fucking her, Tovar.” Pero freezes as he hears the voice of your husband, Richard behind him. “Mediocre pussy had you backing out of our deal, but I won’t let you ruin my plans.”

Your eyes widen and Pero immediately pulls his fingers from your dress, pushing you behind him but you lean around him to see Richard standing there, a gun in his hand. "Richard. What - what the fuck are you doing?" You gasp, clinging to Pero.

"Oh sweetheart. I hired this man - the one who has been in your bed - to kill you. Apparently your pussy is better than a million dollars. That I don't fucking understand. So he hasn't killed you despite my generous offer." Richard explains and you shake your head, laughing. "You really are a lying bastard. Pero is a landscaper. He's not a killer. You are insane. Put the goddamn gun down and we can talk like adults. He's crazy, right baby?" You look at Pero.

Pero’s stomach drops and he swallows harshly, the plea in your eyes for Richard to be lying nearly breaks him. He shakes his head and looks away from you to Richard. “I told you I wasn’t going through with it.” He growls, shifting slightly and keeping his eyes on the gun that your husband has pointed at both of you. “You aren’t killing her either.”

Your eyes widen and your blood goes cold. He isn’t lying. You gulp, thinking back on when you first met him. “The plant.” You remember how insistent he was about you drinking the tea. “Derek.” You choke, realizing that the boy was in hospital because of the brakes being cut. He tried to kill you. You back away from both men, glancing between them with fear in your eyes for the man you love, who is standing there looking distraught. 

“You bastard.” You breathe, eyes on Pero until you look at Richard. “And you! Hiring someone to kill me. So what? You could have the resort because you weren’t going to get it since you got your dick wet. Fuck you, Richard. You will never get this resort. Over my dead body!” You shout.

Richard smirks, raising the gun in his hand, “that can be arranged sweetheart. If you want a job done, do it yourself.” He growls, pulling the trigger.

Pero shouts, moving quickly but it’s too late. Throwing his body in front of yours, he feels the hot sting of the bullet as he pushes you down and covers your body with his own. Turning and growling as he launches himself at your husband, adrenaline surging through his veins and allowing him to react even though he’s been shot.

You gasp, watching Pero wrestle the gun from Richard’s hand and people are screaming because of the gunshot. “Call the police! Call an ambulance!” You shout, grabbing someone passing by when you stick your hand through the hedge and they scream and run off. 

Pero growls, grabbing the gun and you watch as he presses the barrel to Richard’a head, pulling the trigger and your scream echoes as your husband’s head explodes from the bullet, brain and blood and skull flying and you don’t care as Pero shifts back to slump against the hedge, the gun falling from his hand. 

“Pero. Pero.” You kneel down beside him, pushing the gun away and you grab your coat, pressing it against the wound in his chest, so close to his heart. “Stay with me. Ambulance will be there soon.” You promise. He tried to kill you at first but your love for him swamps that as you focus on keeping him alive. “Just look at me.” You plead, cupping his cheek with a bloody hand.

Shaking his head, he knows he won’t make it long enough for the ambulance to arrive. He can feel the pain ebbing now that Richard is dead and he coughs, blood at the back of his throat. “I- hermosa-“ he rasps out, reaching up and cupping your cheek as he coughs again. “I love you.” He chokes out, desperate to make sure you know that it was real. That he had not been playing a role. His love for you had been genuine. “Y-you’re s-s-safe.” Struggling for breath, his pain filled eyes stare up at you, watching as tears pour from your eyes. Now that you are safe, he relaxes and his hand falls from your cheek. “L-love-“ Pero’s breath rattles out and his body goes still, eyes glassy and fixed on yours as the light in their depths goes out.

"Pero!" You gasp, slapping his cheek. "No. No. The ambulance will be here. Wake up. Please. I love you. I- I'm sorry! Please. Wake up. I still love you. Pl-please. Wa-wake up." You sob, looking into those beautiful eyes, now lifeless and you wail when you realize he's gone. He saved your life despite initially trying to take it and you are devastated. 

You would've forgiven him. You would've. Now you will never get the chance. "I love you." You hiccup as the police and ambulance pushes through to the scene, finding you curled around Pero and Richard dead on the floor. 

"Ma'am. Hands up!" The officer shouts and you stumble to your feet, still sobbing. You are handcuffed until you are back in the lodge, calm but numb as you explain what happened. The police shut the lodge down immediately due to the crime scene and begin to search Pero's room, taking you out of handcuffs when they find the signed contract between Richard and Pero for a million dollars, hidden in a locked journal that Pero had.

****

“Since the deceased had no living family, the journal should go to you.” It’s two weeks later and the police officer that is in your office is the same one who had interviewed you that night. Watched you fall apart when the hitman’s body had been wheeled out to the ambulance to be transported to the hospital for an autopsy. The details of the case were fantastic, but the journal had confirmed all of it to be true. The assassin hired to kill you had fallen in love and refused to kill you. His last entry could be interpreted as a will of sorts, at least that’s how his boss was looking at it. “I’m very sorry about the troubles ma’am.” He offers politely and holds out the journal for you to take. 

You try not to cry, thanking the officer and when he is gone, you stare at the journal. It's the last thing you have of Pero. Your lover. You will have a private funeral for him - just you - but you know you'll never love anyone like you loved him. You have so many questions for him. Like did he want to kill you when he started sleeping with you? Or did he already make up his mind that he wouldn't kill you? You sigh and open the journal, praying this has your answers.

Pero’s handwriting is neat, almost utilitarian with the list of names and the price next to it. There are hundreds of names. All seemingly people that he has killed for money. Your name is the last one on the list, $1,000,000 written out next to it. There was one neat line through it, where he had decided to cancel it. 

After that, Pero had started to journal his confused- often frustrated feelings. “I don’t know why I couldn’t kill her. Coming to her room during the storm was the perfect opportunity. Instead I wanted to kiss away the haunted look on her face and the night in her arms was the best I ever had.” Things along those lines until the last page that has his handwriting on it. 

“Hermosa. If you are reading this, my luck ran out. Don’t cry. A bastard like me doesn’t deserve your tears, your love. I promise you that no matter what you might have learned about me, I love you. I want you to do me a favor. In New York, there is a bank on 53rd street. I have a PO Box there. Number 153. The key is on my car keys. In that box is everything I have. My banking information, accounts with money. It’s yours. Everything that I have and am is yours. There’s a necklace in the box that was my mother’s. I want you to have it. I wish I could have seen it around your neck. Kissed you one last time. I am writing this because I don’t trust your husband, but know that I will protect you with my life if necessary, my love. I will always protect you. Love, Pero.”

You re-read the passage until tears blur your vision. You're so torn, loving and missing a man who killed for a living, who tried to kill you, but you know deep down, he was truly himself when you spent the night in his arms, you felt safe and protected. You decide to book a trip to New York, wanting to fulfill his last wishes. 

You find the beautiful necklace where he promised it would be and immediately put it around your neck, feeling like he is there with you. When you access the account using his password, you are shocked at the hundreds of thousands of dollars he has accumulated from being paid to kill. You decide to donate it, knowing you couldn't take the blood money, and you return home with the necklace around your neck. 

Every night, you relive the night Pero died and tonight, it's storming, making you long for the man you loved. You are no longer scared of the storms, knowing that worse things are out there so you stand by the window, touching the necklace around your neck. You think about that fateful Halloween night when your husband killed your lover. So much death and destruction. Yet hope remains strong inside of you. 

You place your hand on your growing stomach, rubbing the bump. You had discovered your pregnancy a few months after Pero's death, figuring your missed periods were from the grief and stress, but you now carry part of Pero with you. He lives on in your unborn child. 

You stare out the window, watching the rain hit the windows and the lightning flash and you inhale sharply when you see the image of Pero in the glass. Spinning around, there's no one behind you. "It's all in my head." You mutter, turning back towards the glass to see the visage is gone. 

Little do you know that Pero is still with you, watching you, loving you, from beyond the grave.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar imagine #tovar x reader #tovar x you #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar imagine #tovar fanfiction

[wyrmmaster]

Never thought i would see the Wyrm Gets Hitched arc. Congratz man!

Thank you! Neither did we! In fact our relationship was started with the understanding of no marriage even if we got old together, for various reasons. We're very similar in some respects and this was a weirdly serendipitous section that definitely contributed to what's happened, because irony is hilarious when it wants to be

Turns out we're both dinguses and "you are not immune to propaganda" also applies to "you are not immune to symbolism" (and, pragmatically, a legal say on your partner's welfare).

We'd been discussing it off and on for the last two years, and "it just sort of happened" sounds dumb as hell but she recommended me to a lawyer acquaintance of hers for prenup a few months ago, I was like "Ah. I'm gonna talk to him." and then... everything else just sort of happened.

#anonymous

[spotlightlowlife]

There's a Helluva lot that can be done with Stella

Let's be honest, Stella got done dirty.

We first met a woman scorned, upset that her husband cheated, nothing wrong with that. Bothered by losing a major bag in the divorce, fair enough. The bounty, overly dramatic but an understandable motive.

Seeing as she's been reduced a lifelong meany who's the cause of someone else's actions because she deserves it and her sinister brother is better at scheming, where could her character be taken next?

Unlike many other characters Stella has a, questionable, yet apparently close relationship with a sibling who will intervene in or take over on the scheming front, which could open more doors for her.

We have a widely unexplored family who were would have to be someone of high standing to be able to marry royalty, pose some business prospect and be expected to supply a heir? Though things do get confusing as anyone seems to be able to rub shoulders with anything else, there are still questions..

Who are her family.

What is her relationship with her father in law?

All these could result in us getting to know more about the highest ups in society, Stella serves as an excellent inbetween, not quite up there with the royals but perhaps holds some influential position, she is also a character who could has a direct connection with Blitzø, the leading character. What does she think of him ?

Since the divorce isn't her doing, has she tried to reconcile, had she tried prolonging it, has she appealed in any way and does she have a prenup? Tedious contracts have been seen to be a thing in this series, she would definitely be a candidate to go to a hells equivalent of California court, somewhere notorious for very controversial spousal support drafts.

In the real world, those Real Housewives shows are full of unhappily married and divorce women, drama, parties and hospitality, she would fit right in to a show like this. Perhaps entrepreneurial greedy sin Mammon saw the internet buzz of the showdown at his pageant and realized there's a gap in the market for royal gossip so started up a newtork and show, if he doesn't already have them, and cast Stella with her bitter divorce being her scandalous storyline.

Imagine Stolas tuning into his favourite telanovela and seeing an ad for 'Real Housewives of the ... ring' and watching his estranged wife sat discussing her no good ex in some abridged conversations and episode by episode her social media star is on the rise showing the power of celebrity and public opinion.

A socialite lifestyle is rather fitting, it may be canon but if not it could easily be because unlike many other characters, Stella has friends.

Not only that but she appears a confident, extroverted people person who can throw a lavish and busy party for little reason but she just felt like celebrating. She could have numberours self important people attending, we could got to know her connections, the show could be a big product placement where viewers flock to high street stores and the net to buy fast fashion and low quality variants of the goods they have seen on screen, feeding back to a certain greedy leader. Stella could boost her connections further which results in more options, simply by being her glamorous, social and mean spirited self.

We haven't seen how she engages with her daughter. Though they're not leading characters they are a rare example of a mother and child, mother and daughter and parent to a child who is still a minor.

They appear to be drastically different in disposition and appearance. Is Stella one of those parents who constantly wants their child who is growing into their own to look a certian way, someone who would like to see her daughter wearing a dress as she does,

or is she one of those pretentious parents who boasts about everything their child does and how unique and destined for greatness they are, which may actually be the case for Octavia.

We don't see Stella and Octavia interactions and Octavia's screentime has consisted of Stolas realizing he hasn't been hearing his daughter, there's no reason to believe that they are close or don't get along.

All in all, another assassination attempt was quashed but she's still ruthless, she's not the most calculating person on the scene, money is and isn't an objective and she lives an active life. Where writers have diluted character in order to have them be more likeable, the give and take that has been done with Stella could possibly open more doors?

#helluva boss fandom #helluva boss stella #helluva boss critique #helluva boss stolas #helluva boss andrealphus #helluva boss octavia #helluva boss critical

[mjalti]

the universe validates decisions in such interesting ways; I was at work and one of the ladies was discussing how a woman she knows had a goal of marrying a rich man so she went for a surgeon but the surgeon was 20 years her senior, recently divorced with a child, and wanted no more children (in fact had her sign a prenup in which she agreed to no children). Anyways, it’s been 20+ years that they’ve been together & she has always voiced a desire for a child but not more than a desire for her lifestyle. Seeing an illustration of a good life vs an unfulfilled one really hammers down the nails I aligned for myself. There is nothing worth the things I want, in the ways I see them playing out for me. A relationship, a marriage, like any other thing is just an agreement between two people. As long as Person A can offer something Person B wants, the relationship is alive. Ideally, what persons A& B want are the other; but in other arrangements of convenience, anything works. However; is that “anything” meaningful? At the end of your life, could you look at what you’ve done & honestly tell yourself you’ve accomplished most of the desires you set out to do? Life is full of choices and my method remains: make the choice you can handle the negative consequences of.

#ana says

[vadergf]

on sapnap's most recent twitch stream, dream and sapnap discussed how they had genuinely considered marrying george in order to get the visa. dream offered to marry george but only with a prenup, so george declined because he thought it was stupid since he wouldn't steal dreams money or anything. then sapnap offered to marry george without a prenup, and george declined that because he thought sapnap would steal his money.

if i find a clip i'll send but i'm sure it'll be circulating anyways

Jesuschrisy

[gditrisha]

Constancy | part 1 The Commitment

PAIRING: miguel o'hara x fem!reader / afab!reader GIST: Pinterest Boards, Wedding Expos, and all that jazz! Fem!Reader / AFAB!Reader is having a field day sharing her Dream Wedding to her husband-to-be. TAGS: established relationship, discreet proposal, marriage preparations, fluffy, domestic, wedding au TRISHA NOTES: aside from my writing, i designed some visuals and moodboards to make these imagines as immersive as possible! CONSTANCY SERIES | WRITING MASTERLIST 

Imagine one day Miguel initiated a conversation you'd least expect - he asks you about your "dream wedding". let's just say he once caught you peacefully curled up on the couch, remote still in hand with the TV auto-playing wedding planning videos it's taken over your algorithm, it is full of it

"Really???" you beamed then immediately retrieved your tablet, showed him your Pinterest Board, and had an absolute field day just explaining why certain details would work best

Miguel finds it adorable how your "Dream Wedding" Pinterest board is organized. He's amazed how everything is categorized with pics from attire such as rich-toned suits to dainty bridal gowns and bridesmaid dresses as well as different possible motifs, venues, venue styling, and table settings

You find it so sweet of Miguel to involve himself in the conversation, "Hmmm...instead of this suit, I'll wear the red maroon one. I don't think green sage is my color."

this came to you as a surprise cuz you knew he'd rather have a civil wedding. weddings are very costly and it's the vows that matter anyway, right? but he's actually giving suggestions???

Miguel notices the furrowed brow, he runs his thumb over it cuz it isn't a good look to your sunny self "What? I said green isn't my color...and sí, cariño...let's have a real wedding."

He then slides the engagement ring box on the table. it's a simple band encrusted with diamonds. he thought the simple design would go well with any of your rings cuz he knows you like to layer it

There's a high muffled "AAAAAAAHHHH" as you cover your mouth. You bounce on your tiptoes cuz you can't contain your excitement, Miguel carries you, carefully swinging you around in the living room, and gives you a kiss on your temples and lips

You'd both attend lots of Bridal Expos for weeks to come; trying to find more inspiration for your wedding and finalize your suppliers. Miguel holding your hand and pointing at the booths for the both of you to try. Imagine feeding each other free samples of cake and drinking wine (as if it were the ceremony already) garnering some "Awwws" from those managing the booths. You'd return back to your place with LOTS of pamphlets and business cards

The prenup photos isn't your typical shoot with a theme set in the day. No. As bubbly as you are, you knew a day photoshoot didn't fit either of you. You both enjoyed the evening as there are no expectations from either of you, everything is more quiet, reserved for each others' company. The photoset features the city night lights and how you both welcome each other in the hazy glow, beautiful smiles captured in stills similar to a Wong-kar Wai film.

You change the name of the Pinterest Board to “Save the Date” and continue your discussion about the board. Editing it during your free time after kicking anomaly butt and saving the Spiderverse

This is the motif you and Miggy come up with. A mix of rich tones and soft hues. The warmth of burgundy and amber blended with the coolness of tan and sage.

TRISHA NOTES: I forgot I owned a wedding board myself and idk the delulu in me was like might as well. But on a serious note, I was just thinking of the possibility of it coming true someday ahihihi getting married I mean. Anywaaay, trying to have intervals between posts cuz I don't wanna rush it but Part 2 goal is 2nd week of September!

#divider credit: @cafekitsune #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #the miguel effect #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #migue' o'hara x afab!reader #afab!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara is yn #miguel o'hara scenarios #reader is very sunny #sunny x grumpy #sunny/grumpy #imagines #moodbaords and banners by me #wedding planning #spiderman 2099 #mine #uploads #trisha's content #atsv #graphics #moodboard

[yxstxrdrxxm]

So I ended up fast forwarding a bit and writing this drabble for Boss x Friend! Darling……ahahaha I hope you all enjoy this scenario >:’3

Note:: All Boss x Friend! Darling stories take place in the AU where Boss wins in One Last Call

-

There is no romantic proposal.

But that is fine for a “marriage of convenience.”Rather than an emotional proposal in a special place, the two of them are just signing legal documents in Darling’s home.

Aside from the marriage contract, there are many things to discuss—ring designs, living arrangements, cover story for their coworkers, whether or not they’ll have a wedding. The whole time, Darling acts serious and meticulous; it’s a side of her that Boss doesn’t see often.

Then again, he expects nothing less from a senior manager of Celestia Inc.

If things went his way, this marriage would be “real.” Alas, Darling still refuses to give her heart to him, hence why Boss is yielding to her terms. It doesn’t mean that he has given up, though.

Now that they’re married, he will have more opportunities to win her over emotionally. And thanks to this agreement, no one else will pursue Darling or judge them for their previously single status.

“And that’s it.” Darling signs the prenup and looks up to face him. “Here’s to our shared future. Let’s hope you don’t do anything to make me regret this decision.”

“I could say the same,” he shoots back. “I can only imagine the many ways you will test my patience moving forward.”

Not that he dislikes it. By now, the both of them know that Darling has him wrapped about her finger. It’s funny, really—in his desire to control her, he is controlled by his desire for her.

“If you are going to blame anyone later on,” he continues, “it should be yourself for forcing my hand to begin with.”

“Now, now.” At that, Darling’s lips curve into a familiar smile. Her next words sound better than any yes or I do. “Don’t be so mean to your wife~”

Now all that’s left to own is her heart.

-

And they lived happily ever after—jk it will still take months/ years for Boss to make Darling say “I love you” to him. At least he gets a partial victory in another universe xD

I still have more ideas for what happens in Boss x Friend! Darling’s relationship before they reach this point, and aahhhh I can’t wait to make Boss even more of an asshole + boyfailure <3

I hope you don't mind that I did a small continuation to fuel the thoughts of making him a boyfailure btw LMAOOOO

It should've been a loveless marriage.

It should have. That should've been what was expected from the two of them.

And yet, as he found himself one night, years past their first day in being 'married', he found himself unable to put focus on such a thing. To remember that, in a way, this isn't what he could bargain for in the long run.

It was a night like no other. A peaceful, idyllic one, if not for her back turned to him. And his turned back to her as well, for the sake of personal space.

Husband and wife, turning themselves against each other. Such a record, he found himself thinking, but he couldn't bring himself to say yet another word.

Boss— no, Alexander— often had troubles in his mind. Even as the Boss of one of the partner companies of Celestia Inc., the one that focuses on MixMatch as a whole and running his own shady business below, he still found himself thinking through the night.

It left him to stay up, unable to get a wink of rest. And he despised the thought.

Normally, he would find himself able to relax and sleep after 4 hours. He was an insomniac, but nothing that couldn't be solved if he idled long enough with nothing in his mind. Although, as he found out, this was not what he had hoped to occur.

Not with her.

After a while of idling and praying to Gods above to help him sleep to no avail, he turned his body to face her back. He could hear her breathing, even when they're not too close to do such a thing, and his hand quietly reached over to grab hers.

He isn't fond of vulnerability. He's never fond of thinking he should be... Open to someone without thinking they'd stab you on the back.

He hates it. Loathes it to the very core of his being. He couldn't fathom of how people can trust those that could bring them harm, that could simply ruin them if they so much as tried to put their trust and get in fights with them.

But as he held her hand, he felt his shoulders relax. He felt his body lose its tension.

... He's such a fool, he thinks. Just how badly must he crave for someone who'd never love him, when he, himself, can never bring the same commitment?

Maybe it was a curse. A poison he willingly drank, foolishly thinking that no one would catch his eye.

He knew his days were numbered, but in such a night like this, he found himself thinking that it wouldn't be so bad.

He's grown softer. Cordial. Over the years he spent with her, his walls weathered down and became nothing but mere wooden remains. He even found himself thinking that he could simply be laid to rest, and he'd be happy, so as long she remains by his side.

But he will never say that to her.

His pride, his ego, his mind will never let him.

He can cry in anguish all he wants, and truly, he could— but he knew that the day they were together, it will always remain this way.

It was unrequited from the beginning. Maybe he's deluded himself so much into thinking he's had a chance, but he isn't stupid.

So, for now, he will cherish the littlest things he gets from her. He'll cherish the only thing she's allowed him to get.

Her heart will be a grandeur treasure he'd take and never return, but he's content in the time they spent together. In a bit of an irony, he found himself thinking that their time was worth more than just an organ.

After all, what use is a heart if it stopped beating?

Will there be use of an organ when the memories will be the thing left beating?

He didn't knew. No one else knew.

And for once, that left him in a stupor.

Perhaps he can think about this some other time.

Not when he has her in his hand, just like tonight.

#💌 ;; promising letter: one last call #💌 ;; message delivery #💌 ;; fine print: ''boss'' #💌 ;; to my beloved: jessamine

[smoll-tangerine]

ten reasons why i hate you: reason #2

SYNOPSIS. while you admittedly didn’t refuse the arranged marriage between you and jung jaehyun, that didn’t mean that you’d allow him to treat you like a doormat. for the emotional distress he had put you through during the months leading up to your engagement party, you ensure that he will pay for the way he had been treating you for the rest of his life. 

PAIRING. rich boy!jaehyun x rich girl!reader  GENRES. angst, drama, rich kid!au  CHAPTER WORD COUNT. 1643 

WARNINGS. mentions of drinking, female!reader on a war path. 

DISCLAIMER. this is a work of fiction based on fictional events and characters. it is unrelated to any real people, organisations, locations, and events. the laws, and legal and medical interpretations in this work have also been modified for storytelling purposes.

[a/n]: thanks everyone for their interest in my drabble (now titled reason #1)! thanks to that, i decided to make this into a small series comprised of 10 short chapters, hopefully all under 2k words. do note that there will be little to no romance for this series. i’ve always wanted to write a story from the “antagonist” pov, so here’s my first attempt at it! 

← REASON #1 || MASTERLIST || REASON #3 → 

REASON #2

The engagement party was a drag and it took a toll on you emotionally. 

While you barely remembered what exactly went down as you drank more than you could handle, you distinctively remembered that you somehow came out with a goal from that party. 

And that goal was to make Jaehyun’s life a living hell. 

Despite the engagement, there was still nothing concrete about it. 

Your family had a verbal agreement with Jaehyun’s, but that wasn’t enough for you to actually proceed with the marriage. 

So, a few days after the engagement party, you invited him and his family to discuss what your marriage entailed. Your family got the gist that Jaehyun didn’t want to marry you, but they didn’t know the exact reason for it. 

Luckily for the Jungs, you spared your parents the details and told them that you’d handle it yourself this time, to which they thankfully didn’t object.

Af if God knew of your plans, the restaurant Jaehyun’s parents picked was the one where his girlfriend worked. You didn’t know if that was karma working for or against you. Nonetheless, even if you weren’t the one who picked it, it wouldn’t change Jaehyun’s opinion of you, so who cares?

“Let me tell you how Mr. Jung and I are so ecstatic of your engagement to our son!” Jaehyun’s mother gushed to you as his girlfriend was serving red wine to everyone at the table.

You ignored Jaehyun and his girlfriend the whole time and pretended that they weren’t there. In any case, you didn’t need to look at him to know where he was or how he felt about the situation; the smoke coming out of his ears were enough.

“I’m afraid that this dinner isn’t what you think, Mrs. Jung,” you replied as you motioned your family butler to hand you your briefcase.

“Please, we’re about to become a family, call me–”

You slid a few papers onto the table. “This is the prenup that my family lawyers drew up,” you cut her off and then took a sip of the red wine.

You grimaced at how gross it tasted and motioned Jaehyun’s girlfriend—what was her name again, Chaeyoung?—with a flick of your wrist. “Get me a bottle of Château d’Yquem.”

You didn’t fail to notice the flash of annoyance in her eyes. You relished this moment even more, as sadistic as it sounds.

“A prenup…?” the older lady then said, shocked. “I- I don’t understand.”

The look on the three of their faces were worth the effort. Mr. Jung looked fuming, his wife evidently devastated, and Jaehyun looked like he was going to burn a hole through your skull by the way he was glaring at you.

“Well, you honestly can’t expect me to marry your son when he, well,” you glanced at Chaeyoung subtly as she poured your wine with a frown, “comes with quite a baggage.”

“I can assure you that my son has cut all ties with that girlfriend of his,” Jaehyun’s father gruffly stated.

You almost snorted into your wine glass. How shameless of them to force their son into an arranged marriage with a complete stranger when they knew that he had a girlfriend? And you wondered if they knew whether that that girlfriend of his was the one serving them right now. If that were the case, you had to ponder whether this was a deliberate move on their part or not to bring you to this specific restaurant.

“Oh, and the prenup isn’t the only thing,” you continued. “There are more things for him to agree to.” You gave them a half-smile. “You know, just to protect myself from future liabilities.”

Along with the prenup were a list of conditions that they had to agree to, if they wanted this marriage to move forward. Your demands were pretty ridiculous, but not ridiculous enough that they would straight-up reject them. You weren’t dumb, you knew there was more to this marriage than the two families wanting to join together.

Your mother was a famous socialite while your father’s side of the family owned a couple of private hospitals, known for providing the best healthcare in the country. Jaehyun’s family, on the other hand, was known for being in the pharmaceutical industry. A partnership between the hospital line and a pharmaceutical line would certainly be beneficial, especially for the Jungs.

Not to mention how your family’s net worth was around $1 billion, and Jaehyun’s was worth half of yours—in the $500 million, last you checked. While they certainly had a lot money of their own, it wouldn’t hurt to protect yourself and well, to also hurt Jaehyun’s pride in the process. Two birds, one stone.

It was only too bad Jaehyun was such a dick to you.

“If Jaehyun was caught in a cheating scandal, the settlement our family will have to pay–” his mother scanned the document and screeched. “This is ridiculous! How dare you ask us–”

“Well, of course, the same applies to me,” you reassured her nonchalantly. “If anything, I don’t care if he has mistresses on the side—as long as he doesn’t get caught by the media and drags my reputation to the ground. I’m afraid that’s going to be a little bit hard to get back to. Cheating scandals are fine and all since we can always refute them, but oh, if he gets someone else pregnant,” you tipped your wine glass to them, “that will certainly be a problem.”

A moment of silence as the parents looked at each other, not even considering Jaehyun’s opinion or feelings at all. While the two elders were busy whispering amongst themselves, you smirked at Jaehyun, happy with the development of things.

“Oh, and of course, if Jaehyun signs this agreement,” you said and pulled out another document from your briefcase and slid it over. “Then, here’s the partnership agreement you’ve previously spoke about with my parents. And I can assure you that the terms are much better than the ones you previously set with my parents. My father’s and grandfather’s signatures and seals are, of course, already on it. Feel free to send it to your lawyers to authenticate everything.”

Of course, you ensured that your family wasn’t on the losing side of the partnership, but you also had to make sure that your offer was enticing enough for them to sign it. And surely enough, they gobbled it up.

“Get me a pen and my seal stamp,” Mr. Jung quickly conceded.

“Father–”

“You shut your mouth!” he shouted at Jaehyun, surprising even you. “You almost ruined our family with that little girlfriend of yours, you will not disobey my orders! You will sign this agreement or I will cut you off completely!”

Jaehyun looked furious as ever. His hand trembled as he signed his name on the prenup and then stamped it with his seal, his girlfriend witnessing the whole process.

You swore that you were going to make his life a living hell, and you were going to keep your word.

“Lovely doing business with you,” you said with a sickeningly sweet smile and shook all of their hands. “I look forward to see what this partnership will bring.”

“It’s only too bad that you’re a doctor,” Mr. Jung replied. “You would have made an amazing businesswoman.”

You smiled politely. “You flatter me too much.”

Jaehyun’s parents finally left and you two were alone in the private room. Your fiancé sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Are you happy now?” he asked with a sneer. “Are you staying here longer to torture me further and gloat?”

You scoffed and sipped at your drink. “Nonsense. I’m also staying because of how expensive this glass of wine costs.”

He rolled his eyes. “A glass of a 1997 Château D’Yquem only costs $1000—you make that every second. Not to mention, my family picked up the tab.”

“Of course they did,” you said with a small snort. “As if they’re going to make their future daughter-in-law pay for dinner.”

“You’re the one who invited us.”

“And rightfully so,” you snapped back.

You could tell that Jaehyun was surprised with your attitude, so different from usual. In a way, it was true yet untrue at the same time. You’ve always been know to be a force to be reckoned with, one to never back down from a fight. Yet somehow a man like Jaehyun was able to knock you off your horse for the past couple of months so it was high time for you to get back on it.

“I said I was going to make you suffer for the rest of your life,” you said as you got up from your seat, and threw your serviette onto the table. “I’m simply holding my word. As you can see, I’m not one to go back on it.”

You walked away from him and Chaeyoung, who had been as silent as ever for the whole duration of the dinner. You even stopped next to her and pulled out a few hundreds before shoving them into the little pocket of her vest.

“Sorry for the trouble,” you told her with a fake smile.

You made sure that your back faced them as you left the restaurant, your heels clacking loudly against the floor. After months of torture, you finally started enacting your revenge.

But this wasn’t nearly enough for you. This was nothing compared to the months of hatred and spite he held against you during the months leading up to your engagement.

Jaehyun hadn’t even a full taste of your fury yet. It was your turn to knock him down his high horse. And you looked forward to the day he will be on his knees, begging you for mercy. 

← REASON #1 || MASTERLIST || REASON #3 →

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun romance #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenarios #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #jaehyun oneshot #nct 127 scenarios #w: ten reasons why i hate you

[ciaossu-imagines]

Hi! I'm here for the 2nd day of the event~ Can I request a headcanon for Jumin from Mystic Messenger as a parent? Like what kind of parent would he be? What is his parenting style, and what are its effects of his child/children? What are his strong points and flaws as one? How do his childhood experiences affect how he parents? Etc~ Thank you very much again! 💙

No, thank you very much! I loved this question, and it was really interesting to think about! I love Jumin and I enjoyed writing these! I hope you’ll enjoy reading them!

I think that, unless carefully balanced out by the other parent, Jumin would be at a real risk of being a helicopter parent. He’s going to be a very nervous parent, no matter how old his child gets, and he’s all too aware of the dangers that can befall the child of someone of his stature. He’d really want 24/7 bodyguards for his child, regardless of where they were, and he’d want them to be in very steady contact with him. His partner would really have to explain to him how that could also impact their child negatively and the two of them would probably have quite a few long discussions about it until a compromise could be reached.

Jumin’s own childhood will definitely have a huge impact on how he does parent. While he does truly love his father and him and Chairman Han do have a good relationship, albeit a slightly odd one (also, sidenote, but Chairman Han – super involved grandparent), the fact is that there were many things growing up that did leave huge emotional scars on Jumin. He will try so hard, almost neurotically focused on it at some points, to not repeat the mistakes of his father. It will become a huge thing for him to keep his family together, his partner and him and their child and one of his greatest fears, other than someone targeting his child to get to him, is of his family breaking up and his child having to live with the same revolving door of new romantic partners/new parents that Jumin had to deal with growing up. In fact, he gets so scared about it that he has a new clause added to the prenup he had his partner sign before they got married that, in the case of a divorce, Jumin would provide for them financially for the rest of their lives with the stipulation that his (ex, in that scenario) partner wouldn’t bring any new romantic partners into his child’s life until his child reached college age.

Now, I do believe that Jumin would be a very strict parent. His own father was quite strict with him and while he tries hard to not be his father, I think that he does fall into some of what he learned as a child. His children will have strict curfews, they will be expected to perform well in school, to attend church, and to take etiquette and extracurriculars pre-approved by Jumin. He’ll have rules about how old they must be before they date, and all potential romantic partners will be thoroughly screened and must be brought to meet the parents before his children will be allowed to go out anywhere with them. He will be preparing his children for the life they will have as heirs to the Han conglomerate.

While strict, Jumin will still be a very loving parent. His partner and his children will genuinely mean the world to him and, in an attempt to avoid the mistakes his own father made, Jumin will work extremely hard to ensure that he spends time with his family. He will want to spend time with his partner and child doing things together, but he’s also going to really want to spend time with just his child, building a fatherly bond with them.

Unless his partner stops him, Jumin runs the very real risk of turning his child into a spoiled brat. There is nothing he won’t buy for his child, no request he won’t blow up into a huge production to satisfy a childish whim. His partner will really have to sit him down and be like ‘No, Jumin, they’re only turning three, they really won’t remember this birthday, so it really is not necessary to rent out the entirety of Disney Land and fly all their little preschool friends in for the day, just because our kid likes Mickey Mouse’.

After all that Jumin and the RFA go through together, he will want to have them be a part of the child’s life and all of them will be honorary aunts and uncles. He was alone so much as a child that it’s really important for his own child to start their lives with there being people who truly care about them and he really will encourage his children’s friendships as they grow, as long as the friends in question are ones that Jumin does approve of and who he doesn’t feel are just using his child.

#event ask #mystic messenger #mysme #headcanons #jumin han