#no women get prenups ever

[gabessquishytum]

What about gold digger husband hob who is…actually a gold digger?

Hob usually doesn’t make it to the husband stage. He doesn’t want to be tied down to any of his marks. He just wants a good time, get some good cock, get spoiled, and to get out.

Dream, of course, is jaded enough to see hob coming from a mile away. He sees how he operates, expecting men and women to just give him whatever he wants and to leave them broken hearted when he’s bored.

Dream doesn’t intend to be one of his marks. He doesn’t intend to let him get away.

Hob’s never been with a man as rich as Dream, or as cunning. He doesn’t realize at first that Dream sees through his usual games. At first it all goes the same way: hob bats his eyelashes, sticks out his tits and Dream rewards him with money and fucking him all over his mansion.

Except this time, hob finds out dream isn’t going to buy him an apartment. He expects hob to move into his mansion.

That’s a change, but hob isn’t the type to complain about a mansion.

Then Dream’s got him signing long documents that give Dream permission to hire hob bodyguards who follow him everywhere and utterly prevent hob from scoping out any new marks. That’s another change.

And Dream is definitely working hard not just to seduce hob but to retrain him to need Dream and only Dream, sometimes with a literal chastity belt that Dream has the only key to.

It isn’t six months later that hob wakes up and realizes he’s been wifed up and the prenup is iron clad—but he’s oddly flattered.

And he can have all Dream’s money, everything he could ever want, as long as he stays put for once. And for the first time, hob doesn’t want to leave.

ALSKSJDHA yeah this is great.

Hob is a professional sugar baby, and he's very good at his job - mainly because he doesn't get emotionally involved. He doesn't allow himself to grow fond of his marks, he never gets offended or put off by family members who want him gone. There are no dramatic scenes or histrionics. None of it bothers him and he's very focused on his goals: getting fucked and getting nice things.

And then there's Dream. He's what Hob would consider a perfect mark: extremely rich AND handsome, not married. This is going to be so easy. Hob even assumes that Dream probably won't develop feelings because he seems so cold and detached. But Hob has NEVER been more wrong.

It only takes a few weeks for Hob to become reliant on Dream for everything. The roof over his head, the food on the table, the clothes in his wardrobe. When Hob first moved in, Dream took all his documents "for safe keeping" including his passport and bank card. Dream opened up a new account for him to use, one which can be supervised. Hob does know where his stuff is (the safe in Dream’s office) but he doesn't know the code (but he's sure Dream would give his things back if he asked. probably).

Now Hob wears the clothes that Dream likes to see him in. He goes to the parties that Dream wants him at. He uses the toys that Dream buys for him, and only when Dream tells him to. He's there to greet Dream when he comes in from business meetings, and he's in Dream’s bed every night.

By the time Hob realises that he's effectively been forcibly tranformed into a rich 1960s housewife, it's too late... and fuck if that doesn't make him run off to the bathroom to jerk off. Of course he gets locked up in the chastity cage afterwards, but the explosive orgasm is worth it. He has been thoroughly trapped, and nothing has ever made him hornier in his entire life.

Dream is pleased and proud: he's decided that hes going to get a cock ring to exactly match Hob’s shiney new wedding ring. Nothing but the best for his little husband. He can spend every penny of Dream’s money, as long as he stays forever.

[aizenat]

I’m going to say this and it sounds like it’s gonna be an unpopular opinion but whatever, but I’d love to meet these supposed evil feminists who are putting down and berating stay at home moms/wives/gfs. Outside of the context of criticism towards the tradwife idiots, who aren’t just sharing their cute little stay at home lives but are specifically looking to use their platforms to encourage young impressionable girls to put themselves in danger by not pursuing education and/or a career (specifically looking to reach out to girls who would have grown up to value those things: NOT isolated and/or conservative women raised to value being a stay at home wife/mom), who are there ppl chomping at the bit to shit on women who decide to be stay at home wives/moms?

Specifically, what FEMINISTS are doing that? At most, feminists will push for women who do choose that to make sure they’re protected (be married to the man so you have a claim on his money, make sure your name is on all bank accounts, property titles, businesses, etc, maybe even set up a prenup so you’re not sol if and when he decides to leave you, still pursue schooling and/or some sort of job even part time so you can have work experience/an education if things don’t work out, etc), but I have never ever EVER seen a feminist, an actual feminist, from any wave or type, not libfems nor radfems nor 2nd wave or 3rd wave nor “intersexuality” feminists nor womanists nor black feminists nor global south feminists, literally ZERO feminists are out here shouting at any woman who is a stay at home wife/mom and throwing visceral hatred towards them. If you cannot discern the difference between feminists being concerned by women encouraging other women to literally put their entire lives and livelihoods in men’s hands and some foaming at the mouth hate for a woman DARING to not work (when we’re all living in an capitalist hellscape that has us all making jokes about how working sucks and we wish we could just sit by the ocean or run to a secluded cabin in the woods), the problem isn’t with feminists.

I literally have never seen this shit, and can only conclude that everyone reblogging that one post thinks women getting snappy with these trafwife idiots is somehow a hatred for any and all stay at home moms/wives. Do you think any Black person who shit talks Candace Owens just hates Black ppl in general? Is that how that works now? Fascinating.

Stop creating strawmen to argue against and virtue signal about. Stay at home wives/moms are always supported by feminists. If anything, men are the ones who hate them the most because they resent the expectation of having to provide for her, and they feel like she didn’t do anything to “earn” the lifestyle she’s living. The passport bros who go oversees looking for a “submissive” wife only to be pikachu faced when those women expect him to support her comfortably. The Tate-heads obsessed with a woman’s “body count” and think spending $1000 on an engagement ring is asking for too much. The red pilled idiots who hate independent women for being able to live and survive without them all while hating the women who want to stay at home because they’re “lazy” or gold diggers. That’s MEN doing that. Not women. Not feminists.

There are more men hating on stay at home women than women, especially feminists, every day. But please, do make and reblog a post that felt the need to call out the evil and mean feminists for doing what men actual do without criticism all the time. I mean, when aren’t women blamed for shit men do all the time?

[gaysindistress]

As Good a Reason - two

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: when Brock Rumlow picks a fight he can’t win with the White Wolf, he drags his Snake back. Six years after she ran away, Y/N Rumlow is faced with a choice to make; do as she’s told and kill the White Wolf or overtake her father instead because spite’s as good a reason to take his power?

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing

word count: 3.1k

Tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @vonalyn

one | series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is written vaguely enough for anyone to see themselves in her.

The city never changed during her six year hiatus. Concrete jungle or whatever Jay Z said, that is how she remembered the city and as the car rolls down the streets, it’s obvious that it’s not going to change. 

About the only thing that has changed is how much of an outsider Y/N feels like. This place isn’t her home, it hasn’t been since her father put a bullet in her mom right in the middle of dinner. It probably wasn’t even home for her before then but it’s all she knew. God even Phoenix in all its hot glory felt more like home than the lower east side did. 

Victoria has remained eerily quiet ever since they got off the plane. Y/N passed it off as nerves but Niklaus whispered to her that neither daughter had been “home” since that night. Brock had chosen to ship Victoria off to Paris to live with some business partner of his. He said it was good for her to travel but when it was really a ploy to marry her off to a 50 year old white man. 

That man ended up dead 366 days after they were married and exactly one day after the prenup ended. 

Niklaus, on the other hand, was held prisoner in his childhood home and forced to learn the ins and outs of the family business. Brock needed someone to take over in the event of his early death and being the only son, Niklaus was the natural choice. Brock always wanted it to be Y/N, his youngest and most favorite, but Jasmine ruined that for him. 

Either way, Y/N almost immediately decides to shoot the man dead the moment the White Wolf’s death is confirmed. She had thought about this very chance every night for six years but now she’s finally getting the chance. A part of her wants to make him suffer and the other part just wants him gone. Both agree that he needs to be dealt with as soon as possible which means cooperating for the time being. 

A tall blonde is driving them and she picks up on a strange vibe the moment he gives her the up and down. Any other time and she would’ve broken his nose but Niklaus guides her away before she can do that. 

“That’s Caleb Walker’s son, John,” he whispers to her as they drive. 

“THAT’S John?”

Victoria smirks, “He got hot.”

“Jesus,” Y/N snorts, “He got weird and creepy.”

“Whatever. More for me then.”

Niklaus makes a face but drops it before either sister can figure out what it means. Their attention gets turned to John when he announces that they’ve arrived at the Rumlow townhouse. Y/N wants to make a comment about how far her father has fallen since she’s left and almost does although the dark presence of the man at the butt of the comment overwhelms her. 

Standing on stairs is Brock and his men, all dressed like they stepped out of Call of Duty or some other war video game that teenage boys play. Another tall blonde that rubs her the wrong way flanks her father but he’s dressed alarmingly normal in jeans and a Dodgers tee shirt. Y/N points him out to her brother as they get out and he stalls for a second. 

“That… that’s uhhh Steve Rogers. He works for the White Wolf.”

“Don’t tell me that he’s a glorified babysitter.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

Just as they get into ear shot, they stop whispering to each other and greet everyone. Victoria makes a show of greeting Brock who can’t be bothered to even acknowledge her and keeps his whole attention on Y/N. 

“There’s my baby girl,” he says with too much gusto and squeezes her too tightly in a bear hug. 

She pushes against him as hard as she can to which he utters a warning into her ear of play nice or else. He gives her a fake smile when he releases her and introduces her to Steve who gently shakes her hand. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Juárez. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brock stiffens at the last name and corrects Steve. 

“Sorry, Ms. Rumlow.”

After taking her hand back and exchanging pleasantries, she heads inside in the direction that she saw Victoria go. Niklaus is not far behind but he’s stopped by John who whispers something in his ear and lets him go. His face is a shade paler when he catches up to them however he refuses to say what happened. Victoria is content to unpack her own bags while Y/N helps her and eyes their brother with concern. He occasionally makes eye contact with her only to quickly break it and find lint on his pants to pick off. 

Dinner rolls around and Brock requests that all three join him. Flashbacks break the surface and take over Y/N’s mind when she first sits down. Like a true villain, her father had the same dinner made from that night with the same seating so that they can relive possibly the worst night of her life. He smiles at her discomfort and preys on it like a vampire, finding delight in her shivers. As he drains her of her will to cooperate, he spills the details of his plan to kill the White Wolf. 

There will be a party on Saturday that the White Wolf will be at. Niklaus and Victoria are to find and isolate him so that Y/N can deliver the kill shot. 

Simple enough but still she finds every flaw in it. 

Won’t he be suspicious? 

If he’s going to be there, won’t he have security?

How is Y/N supposed to kill him? 

Why does this “simple” plan need the Snake?

Brock slams his hand on the table and stops her line of questioning, saying, “Because your brother and sister are too fucking stupid to do it. I’ve already tried them and that’s how we got into this position in the first place. I need you to do it.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me to never reveal all of my cards?” Y/N asks as she takes a drink of her wine. 

Brock’s nostrils flare and he squeezes his glass so hard it threatens to break, “I swear to god, Y/N.”

“You must be really desperate.”

“Y/N.” 

She takes another sip of wine, “Only a truly desperate man would turn to his enemy for help.”

“You’re not my enemy. You’re my daughter even if your mother was a whore and a liar.”

That strikes a cord. 

“Say one more thing about her and I will kill you right now.”

Brock laughs in her face, “I’d like to see you try.”

When she doesn’t answer, he continues on explaining his plan for the party. Victoria and Niklaus are listening enough for Y/N to drown everything out. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and repeats a mantra to herself;

He’s next.  

He’s next.  

He’s next.  

He’s next.  

He’s next.  

He’s next.  

She opens her eyes, inhales deeply, exhales, and takes a sip of her wine. 

“Is there a dress code for this party?”

Steve slides into his car and calls the White Wolf the moment the door closes. 

“What do you got for me?” he asks when he answers the phone. 

“She hates him with a burning passion. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that she’s here plotting his death, not yours.”

The other man chuckles, “That so?”

“How much did Sam tell you about her mom,” Steve pauses as he searches through his texts for the name, “Jasmine Rumlow?” 

“Enough to know that it wouldn’t surprise me if Brock turns up dead tomorrow morning. Did you get anything else?”

“She’s going to be the key to taking out his operation. He has a soft spot for her so we can exploit that but it might be easier to exploit hers, push her to help us.”

The White Wolf sighs and takes a moment to think before answering, “Do we know what that is or are you expecting me to figure it out when she’s pointing a gun at me?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Is that your way of saying that I need to be back here tomorrow?” “And the day after that. Don’t let her leave your sight until you know what her weaknesses are. Even if she hates mornings, I want to know everything.”

“Copy that.”

Growing up with Caleb Walker at Brock’s side meant that Y/N did know his son, John but he stayed out of their fathers’ ways. Maybe it was his parents wanting to protect him or maybe it was that he knew from a young age what a monster Brock was. Either way he failed whoever wanted to protect him. 

Working in the same role as his father, John never leaves Brock’s side and it’s unnerving to Y/N. When Brock moved, John moved. When Brock breathed, John breathed. When Brock tried to assert dominance over Y/N, John did the same. The most recent example of this is how he grips at her arm and nearly throws her through her bedroom door after she got caught sneaking back into the house. 

“What were you thinking?” he demands, his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing deep into her ears. 

Y/N shakes off his hand and voice as she walks towards her bed. She drops herself down and starts to take off her shoes which angers him even more. His question rings out again but she doesn’t care to answer it. He asks for a third time and she stops what she’s doing, straightens up, and half turns to him. 

“I’ll answer you when you stop yelling at me.”

He scoffs and puts his hands on his hips, “I don’t have time for this.”

“And I have all the time in the world.”

Shaking his head, he looks to the ground and takes a deep breath, “Fine.”

Y/N goes back to untying her shoes and kicks them off when he finds the peace inside himself to ask the question again. “I won’t be a prisoner while I’m here. Brock might tell you differently but what I’m telling you is to take the presidency; I can and will leave whenever I want. If the White Wolf is really that big of a threat, then I’ll check in with you but no one is going to track, follow, or stalk me.”

John nods along even though deep down it’s painful to be taking orders from her. 

“Since the stupid party has a dress code, Vic, Niklaus, and I will be going shopping. If I see anyone tailing us, I will be shooting out their tires and you,” she pauses to turn and look at him, “will get the brunt of my wrath, understood?” John sniffs aggressively but nods in understanding nonetheless. Y/N finishes taking her shoes and socks off before going to her closet to change. He doesn’t leave or move, annoying her even more than she already is. She wants to huff at the invasion of privacy but it won’t be her any good. With her luck, he’ll take it as her being hurt or worse; a threat to his manhood. Before she can think of something snarky to say, John speaks up and starts into the nostalgia of her being back. He goes on and on about how he never thought he would see her again and how he always thought that they would end up together. 

Pulling a sweatshirt over her head, Y/N stops in the closet entrance and stares blankly at him. He grows uncomfortable and shifts but keeps up with his line of wishful thinking. 

“I’m going to stop you right there,” she says, interrupting his tangent about how he had a crush on her growing up, “I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about our childhood from your point of view. I don’t want to hear about how happy you are that I’m back. I don’t want to hear any of it because I don’t care, John. As soon as I’ve outlived my usefulness with the White Wolf or whoever else Brock pissed off, he’ll send me away or kill me and honestly, I’m good with either. I don’t want this life and I never have so please spare me the romantics of it all.”

The door slams almost immediately after she finishes and she lets out a deep sigh. Of course it would take crushing his dreams of them being endgame to get him to leave. On the bright side, maybe he won’t bother her anymore or it could go the other way and he’ll be stuck to her like glue. 

Y/N chooses to not think about it anymore and falls onto her back on her bed, allowing the comfort of the blankets to engulf her. Time slips away from her as she lets her worries and stress disappear even if for a minute or two. Nothing is ever really stressful free for her, not when her father is still alive and controlling her life. 

There had been a time, maybe two years into living in Phoenix, did she think that it would be possible to be free form Brock. Maria and her were in the middle of moving from their first tiny apartment to the one she left behind when the letter showed up. It was simple and with no address. All the letter said was “Don’t get comfortable.” Maria hid it as soon as she found it and tried her hardest to hide any fears that it brought it up but it only worked for a few months after that. A car crash is what took Maria but Y/N always knew that it was more than that; a planned attack or something like that. In hindsight, it could’ve been this White Wolf and not Brock but that would mean that he’s been pulling the strings for far longer than she knew or wanted to admit. 

Her phone rings on the nightstand, drawing her back to reality and she groans as she grabs it. There’s no caller ID so she’s hestiaant to answer and lets it go to voicemail. Dropping herself back onto her bed, she doesn’t get a second to enjoy it because it starts ringing again. No caller ID flashes once more and she figures that if she doesn’t answer it now, whoever it is will keep calling all night long. 

“What do you want?” “No hello?” a man’s voice comes through, harsh and thick but with an undertone of something she can’t place. 

“What do you want?” “Open your curtain.”

She closes her eyes in annoyance, “no. You have three seconds to tell me what you want before I hang up.”

“Assuming your father is going to be the most predictable thing and try to pull something at the party, I’m having a dress delivered for you to wear. Something a little different from those cargo pants you wear everyday.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say this is the White Wolf asshole that Brock is obsessed with.”

He chuckles, deep and profound, “Ouch. I don’t think I’m an asshole.”

“Well,” Y/N starts as she sits up and pushes the curtain back to peer out the window, “if the shoe fits.”

Across the street is a blacked out car however she can only assume that the man on the phone is sitting in it. Her assumption is correct. The passenger window rolls down and a dark haired man waves at her. From this distance she can’t make out too many details but she can see the speckles of facial hair and penetrating eyes.

“I fully expect you to be wearing my dress and if you’re not, I’ll be very upset, little snake.”

“I’ll try but no promises.” 

“Oh and it goes without saying, don’t tell your father we talked.”

Y/N hangs up without answering and the man continues to stare up at her as another man gets out of the car with a big black box in hand. He puts it down in front of their gate and returns to his car. The White Wolf gives her a grin to match his name and the two drive away. 

That box sits in her closet for almost three days before she opens it. The decision comes after a few failed shopping trips and with her returning with one dress she only got because Victoria didn’t want to leave it at the store. Y/N and Niklaus argued with her for a solid 45 minutes about how stupid it was to buy a dress only because you don’t want someone else to have it. 

Of course her response was that she’ll find another time to wear it if Y/N choose something else. The shimmery emerald green material shines too much and the deep front v cuts too low for her liking hence why she’s sitting in her closet with the box in front of her. She’s been staring at it for probably 15 minutes now and the looming pressure of the party tomorrow is starting to get to her. Aside from the dress being generally not something she would wear, it feels impractical to wear if she’s going to complete a mission. 

Curiosity gets the better of her logic and she’s tearing into the box before she knows it. In the white tissue paper lies a simple black dress. No jewels or gems, no elaborate hems, or fancy material. Pulling out the dress, she gets a better look at the floor length dress that will no doubt hug her figure. The boat neck line provides the cover that her sister’s dress lacks and she quickly shoves the dress back into its box. 

“No, no. no,” she whispers to herself as she drums her fingers against the lid, “I’m not wearing it. I can’t. I won't.”

It calls to her, chanting her name from beneath her hand. 

She slowly reopens it, letting her hands drift over the fabric as she battles with herself about it, “No I can’t wear this. I mean…. I could. It’s more practical. I could probably fight in it. It’d be easier…” 

She trails off in her internal line of arguing as she feels its softness. 

“I’ll just try it on first.”

Famous last words.

[ashbrat488]

Candy - Chapter 14

Word Count: 1389

Cassidy wakes up between Lloyd and August...

MINORS DNI

Cassidy woke up in the morning nestled between August's warm body and the soft snoring of Lloyd behind her. She shifted closer to August, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His eyes turned to her as she moved, and he greeted her with a soft, "Good morning."

Her voice was soft and contemplative as she asked a question that had been gnawing at her since the night they met at his Christmas party. "Why are you married if you just cheat on your wife with me... and other women?" The idea of being the 'other woman' bothered her more than she cared to admit. She had always known that most of her clients were married, but with August, it felt different, and it stirred feelings of jealousy she hadn't experienced before.

August turned to look at her, his expression thoughtful. "It's a marriage of convenience," he explained, his voice equally quiet. "I married her for the sake of my son. I grew up with divorced parents, always being shuffled around, and I didn't want that for my child."

"So you have an open relationship?" Cassidy probed, trying to understand the dynamics of his marriage.

August let out a low, somewhat ironic chuckle. "More like a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy. We didn't bother with a prenup, and if I left her, she'd get half of everything. So..." He trailed off, the complexity of his situation evident in his eyes.

Cassidy continued to press, her tone tinged with a mix of concern and curiosity. "So, you choose to stay and sleep around with other women? Do you really think that's a healthier environment for your son than just splitting up?"

August's jaw clenched, a sign that he was growing uncomfortable with the conversation. He shook his head slightly. "My son is not your concern. Now," he changed the subject swiftly, pulling her on top of him. She straddled him, her bare skin brushing against his, sending a shiver down both their spines. "Why do you ask? Are you jealous?"

Cassidy scoffed playfully, her hips beginning to move against his. "Jealous? Why on earth would I be?"

"Because there is something here between us, doll... That's why you should stop seeing all other clients and let me take care of you."

"Oh?" She teased his cock, now hard under her with her hands on his chest. "Are you jealous?"

"Fuck yes I am," he admitted freely, grabbing her hips as he glided her pussy over him. "I want you all to myself. Lloyd is lucky he's my friend, or else I would have killed him last night." He reached down between them and grabbed the base of his cock to tease her entrance. "Now tell me you're jealous, doll."

Cassidy could feel the heat building between them as she slowly lowered herself onto his cock, but he halted her descent with a firm grip.

"You can't deny it, Cassidy," August whispered, his voice a blend of desire and challenge that sent shivers down her spine.

"I'm not..." Her voice trembled as he guided her down onto his cock, a moan escaping her lips as pleasure surged through her.

"Liar." August's grip on her hips tightened as he continued to orchestrate their passionate rhythm. He drew closer, his heated breath tantalizing her ear. "Tell me you're jealous, Cassidy."

"August..." Her resistance crumbled with each commanding thrust, her voice reduced to a needy whimper as she surrendered to his dominance.

"Say it," he demanded, his tone thick with possessiveness and lust.

Cassidy's body undulated with pleasure as she rode August with increasing fervor. His words stoked the fire of her longing, and she felt her climax edging ever closer. "Yes," she gasped, her voice heavy with desire. "I'm jealous, August. I want you all to myself."

"Good girl." August's eyes darkened with desire as he watched her. With one hand still tangled in her hair, he seized her hip with the other and thrust into her with primal intensity, propelling her to the brink. Their lips met, their tongues entwining as he moved her against him. She quickened her pace, thrusting forcefully as she neared her release. "Come for me, doll. Make it yours."

With a trembling cry, she collapsed against him, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her body convulsed with pleasure as he tenderly traced his fingers along her back, their lips locking in a passionate kiss once more.

"That was fucking hot," Lloyd interjected beside them as August groaned.

"I forgot he was still here."

Cassidy giggled, leaning back up straight, still moving slowly on August's cock as her chest heaved. She watched Lloyd hop out of bed and open a bedside drawer before positioning himself behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Have you ever done anal, pumpkin spice?"

"Yes," she gasped out as she felt him push her onto August's chest before she felt the cold lube.

August stroked his fingers through her hair, lifting her chin to pull her lips to his to distract her. He felt her tense before whimpering into his mouth as he felt her pussy clench around him and knew that Lloyd had begun to push his way into her. "Relax," he whispered as she nodded, swallowing down a moan.

"Fuuuck," she whimpered as Lloyd eased his way into her ass. "Fuck." She relaxed, letting her body become accustomed to the feeling as August moaned low in his throat.

Lloyd gave a short thrust before withdrawing, only to slide his cock back inside. Her breath hitched as he started to pump into her, stretching her opening to accept his length.

"Like that, pumpkin spice?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Lloyd began to increase the speed of his strokes, speeding up as August began to pump into her at the same time.

Her hands gripped the bedsheet on either side of August's head as he held her firmly against his chest. Each thrust seemed to send another jolt of pleasure coursing through her body as her juices dripped from her.

She leaned back to look at August and found him staring at her with an intensity she'd never seen before. It caused her heart to skip a beat and made her quiver with anticipation. He grinned as she met his gaze and smiled. "This feels good," she admitted, biting her lip to hold back a moan as Lloyd increased the speed of his strokes. "Don't stop..."

"I'm gonna fill your fucking pussy, doll," he told her with a smirk as he thrust into her.

"Ahhh..." She bit her lip to keep from crying out as another orgasm built up inside her. The feeling was so intense, her body trembling as her climax washed over her.

"Yes..." she cried out, clawing desperately at the sheets as her body seized up. The feeling lingered long after the waves had faded and both men stayed inside her, slowing after filling her.

Lloyd pulled away slowly before collapsing onto the bed beside them. August kept Cassidy on his chest, lifting her chin to gaze into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she panted with a smile. "Another bath would be nice though."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her lips before rolling her onto the bed beside Lloyd. "You got it."

As Cassidy stepped out of the bathtub, a hushed conversation between Lloyd and August caught her attention. She wrapped a blanket around herself and tiptoed to the slightly ajar bedroom door, straining to overhear their words.

"Why did you tell her we had a present for her? I told you that we weren't involving her in this," August's voice hissed, his irritation palpable.

Cassidy heard some rustling from the bedroom, which only piqued her curiosity further. She leaned in closer, trying to catch every word.

"And I told you that we should involve her. That she deserves to decide for herself."

"Well, I'm the one in charge."

Lloyd's exasperated sigh echoed in the room. "Oh, fuck off, August. Your ego is even bigger than mine. And what are we going to do about Joe?"

Cassidy couldn't help but peek through the crack in the door to see August resting his hands on his hips, deep in thought. "Show her the videos," he finally responded.

Cassidy could contain her curiosity no longer. She pushed the bedroom door open and stepped inside, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her. "Show me what videos? And what's my present?" Her eyes darted between the two men, her expression a mix of intrigue and confusion.

Chapter 15 Candy

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[cat3ch1sm]

🐸| hello everyone! i made the mistake of staying up until 3am and came up with these cracked hxh headcanons. yes i know i write for hxh way too much which is why i need u guys to send requests for other fandoms😀 not that i don't love hxh hcs and ur totally welcome to send those in, but if u have any thoughts for the fandoms i write for send them in<33

🥝| also my birthday is in three weeks omg. stg i still feel like a little kid

🌱| anyways enjoy these hcs<33 they're definitely not canon but it is funny 2 imagine😭💀 ily guys

part 2 with the butlers??? let me know🤭

part 3 with the phantom troupe??? LMFAOO

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ maybe some homophobia?

how would the Zoldyck family react if they find out that hisoka and illumi are an item?

silva

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ bro is still kinda trying to get the "illumi likes men" thing. silva can kill hundreds of people at once and is the most feared assassin ever, but when it comes to his kids actually having... like... lives... his mind just empties.

・❥・so when illumi just pulls up with "hisoka and i are dating" in the most unemotional tone known to man, silva's brain doesn't really process it right off. he sits there for like ten seconds straight in silence with an intimidatingly blank stare. imagine the little "loading..." thing over his head

・❥・and then he gets it. he blinks. looks at hisoka and illumi awkwardly, with a brow arched or something. then looks down at kikyo, who is sobbing on his shoulder into his shirt.

・❥・he stares at his wife for a few more very long seconds before looking back up at his son and his maniac pedophile clown bf, rolling his eyes as he gestures with his head for them to just go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

kikyo

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ she was never on board with hisoka and illumi's whole thing to begin with. she does not understand why Illumi wants to spend all his time with hisoka, who she thinks is creepy and overly eccentric, when he could be spending time with a lovely woman who also kills people to carry on the Zoldyck name.

・❥・and she really wasn't with the gay thing anyway. she would have lots of perfectly eligible murdery women meet illumi in hopes that they would get together and bear a Zoldyck child. but here he is. kikyo just cannot understand it.

・❥・although, it's a tiny bit less about the gay stuff than it is about the fact that it's hisoka. hisoka. him of all people. why? his aura is repulsive, he runs around in crop tops, heels, waist trainers, makeup, and pink hair. illumi had already been poisoned, kikyo could tell, when he started with the crop tops as well. but it had been worse than she had thought. now here they were, the disgusting clown and her perfect illumi saying they were dating.

・❥・it was enough to make her burst into tears- and cry she did. the second illumi finished his sentence, the waterworks began. now it was too late.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

zeno

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "Like I care. Just don't have sex in the house."

・❥・enough said

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

alluka

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ i don't know how she'd find out, really. maybe killua told her? but despite the fact that Illumi doesn't even consider alluka a family member or even a human being, she'd be thrilled for him <\3

・❥・"Big big brother has a boyfriend? Really?!"

・❥・she'll want to know everything about hisoka- what he looks like, how he behaves, what about him attracted her brother. romance thrills her, no matter who it's between or if the people involved are trying to kill her☹️

・❥・"Will I get to meet him? :D"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

kalluto

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he'd been collecting clues for a while. he noticed when illumi stopped cutting his hair, when his clothing style changed, how much more often Illumi was going to hisoka for assistance in missions and such rather than his family- whether he actually needed the help or not.

・❥・and when illumi joined the phantom troupe "per hisoka's request," and when he spoke of an "engagement ring" and "prenup" despite there being other less fruity terms he could have used to describe the contract- kalluto was almost 100 percent sure.

・❥・ the kicker, though, was when kalluto found out that they had contracted each other to kill... each other. they both shared the same twisted idea of "romance" and "friendship," and this basically set kalluto's suspicions in stone.

・❥・so kalluto half-heartedly played dumb when Illumi announced their official status as a couple- but long story short, he wasn't surprised. he isn't really fond of hisoka, but he sees no point in messing with the relationship, so he doesn't care much overall.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

milluki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this mf doesn't look up from his computer screen and potato chips and weird dolls long enough to even notice that hisoka existed, let alone how much time he and his brother spent together. so he's wayyy out of the loop when illumi makes his announcement.

・❥・bro almost chokes to death on his snack when illumi's done. when he finally pulls himself together, he gives Illumi a look and is basically like "ew, weirdos"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

killua

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ *screaming intensifies*

・❥・illumi. his psychopath brother. hisoka. the pedophile clown man who has a crush on his twelve year old best friend. dating. illumi. gay. with. hisoka. what the fuck what the duck what the fuck

・❥・this could go two ways. one, illumi makes his announcement, and killua immediately starts dramatically falling to the floor and screaming hysterically while pretending to vomit. may or may not ask if he can put a hit on himself. hell, he'll demand someone put a hit on him- he'll be waiting with open arms for them to come and end his misery

・❥・or, killua takes matters into his own hands. he doesn't react at all before calmly exiting the room, walking through the halls, entering mike's domain, and simply climbing up the dog's fur into his mouth. perhaps he'll take a stroll up to the roof of the house and throw himself off?? either way, he's ending this shit

[smartycvnt]

The Board

Pairing: Rita Calhoun x Reader

Prompt: 6. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to bend you over that table during the meeting."

Warnings: smut, top Rita, bottom reader, vaginal fingering

NR

WC: 1589

The downside to becoming the leading divorce lawyer at your firm was that you had to sit through so every major meeting that one of the partners decided to hold. Rita wasn't too bad about calling meetings, but you had a major bone to pick with the other partner. He was notorious for being a huge asshole and had essentially bought his way into becoming partner with his parents' money. The man was practically incompetent. However, he still had the majority of the control. Most of his meetings, you sat there not paying attention until he called on you for an update on how things were doing on the divorce side of the firm.

You always had positive things to say. You had perfected the way to appeal to your clients, enough so that you personally had a waiting list. Everybody found you by reputation at this point. However, your appearance played a big part in how things went afterwards. A lot of the men, who tended to be kind of sleazy, liked all the short skirts and nearly-sheer blouses. The women required a bit more professionalism. You worked for a very high society group, usually the ones who were too young to fully grasp all of the things that should go into a prenup. Today, you had met with a 24 year old heir to some boat company and dealership out of Saratoga. He was definitely the kind who spent 90% of your meetings together just staring down the front of your shirt and nodding along to whatever you told him.

"Alright, that is enough for today," Rita said, effectively concluding the meeting. You sent her a grateful nod, glad that she put an end to her firm partner's rambling. You were about to get up and leave to go back to your own office, but Rita nodded for you to follow her instead. It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to get lunch together at work. People knew that you were friends from childhood, but there was a lot that they had no idea about. Technically, you weren't married yet, but you might as well have been. Each of you did have something that you wore for the other symbolically like that anyways. Rita had the white gold bracelet you had gotten her from Tiffany's, and you had the pinky ring with Rita's birthstone on it, worn as a promise to always be with her.

"I am free after this to get drinks if you are," you offered. Rita shook her head as she sat down on the edge of her desk in front of you. You frowned, assuming that she had to go to court after this. You hated later court days. It felt like Rita was constantly in court to you, but maybe it was because you rarely ever went to court. You handled divorces, but unless it was a special case, you wouldn't take custody cases. Those were much messier in your opinion. "Court?"

"Carisi wants to talk deals to avoid that, actually. I didn't call you in here to talk about my case, and you know that," Rita said as she pulled your chair a little closer to her. Your breath hitched as Rita leaned forward quickly, her face just a couple inches from yours. Rita studied you for any hesitation and smirked when she saw none. You parted your lips slightly because you could tell from the look in her eyes what kind of kiss this was going to be. Rita had been thinking about this moment and the ones that would follow it. You wondered how long she had been thinking about bringing you back to her office. You hadn't worn this into the office today, but you always kept a couple of outfit changes for throughout the day. Usually, you met with multiple clients and not all of them required the same image.

"I don't think you wanted me in here to talk at all. In fact, I'm a little surprised you didn't just turn the cameras in the meeting room off." You leaned back in your seat as you uncrossed your legs. Rita stepped off of the desk and leaned over your chair to trap you back to it. Even if she wasn't standing in your way, you never would have tried to get up. Rita could keep you here for as long as she wanted to. You had nothing else to do all day except for go home and wait for her. You knew that when you got home, you'd get an extended version of whatever happened in this office, but you were in no rush to get there. You wanted to experience everything you could with Rita.

Rita leaned forward to kiss you once again, just as feverishly as the first one had been. You could feel heat bubbling up in the pit of your stomach as Rita continued to kiss you. You could taste the expensive coffee on the tip of her tongue. Rita's hands fell to your hips, just barely bunching up the bottom of your skirt. Rita did know what was underneath your clothes for the day and had almost been late this morning because of it. Your stomach fluttered as you thought about the way she had tried touching you while you had been getting ready that morning. This time, she was successful in getting you where she wanted you, even if she couldn't properly enjoy it the way she really wanted to.

"You have no idea how badly I wanted to bend you over that table during the meeting. I can't focus on anything when you look this fucking good," Rita mumbled between the kisses she pressed along your neck. You let out a sharp gasp as Rita's teeth scraped against your skin briefly. You could feel the low chuckle coming from her against your skin as she continued to press on. She undid a couple more buttons to fully expose your chest. There was a darkness to the usual softness in her eyes when she looked at you. You swallowed as her fingers brushed against the front of your lace underwear.

You gripped the arm rests of Rita's chair tightly as she pressed a little harder. Rita could definitely feel the heat and wetness through the lace. Your underwear were most likely ruined, but you didn't mind. Rita would buy you countless other pairs because she loved the way you looked in lace. Her fingers pushed the lace over to the side and gently dipped between your folds, as if she needed to test how wet you were. You knew that she was just teasing you, making you wait a little so that you'd get desperate. Rita loved getting you desperate and making you wait for what you wanted. She liked playing games, something that you had gotten used to after nearly a decade of being with her.

"This can't all be from just now. Were you thinking about me when you put that outfit on in your office earlier? Did you think of me calling you in here for parading yourself around like that? What did you think I'd do to you Y/n?" Rita asked. Question after question went in one ear and out the other as she touched you. You began to really lose your focus, unable to mutter any answered beside a simple 'yes' or 'no'. Rita had you right where she wanted you, a bumbling mess with her fingers inside of you. One of her hands came up to cover your mouth, certain by now that the walls in her office were not soundproofed. The meeting rooms were, but the personal offices weren't. Rita knew the kind of clients that occasionally came asking for her help, so you didn't blame her for wanting that extra bit of security, even if it was annoying in the moment.

Rita kept her hand clamped over your mouth as you came, but some of the noise still escaped you. Rita removed the hand from between your legs before the one over your mouth. Your lipstick was beyond repairable, so you spent the next couple of moments making sure that it was completely wiped away. Rita watched you get ready to leave her office, fixing anything on your person that needed to be fixed. You may have been walk of shaming it out of the office, but not everybody needed to know that. Rita was tempted to let you use her executive elevator, but that always seemed to rub others the wrong way. And Rita did not feel like dealing with another series of passive aggressive emails from people who didn't know how to mind their own business.

"Don't stay out too long please. Oh, and give Sonny my love," you told her. Rita rolled her eyes as she nodded. Barba had been her buddy at the DA's office, and Sonny was yours. Rita didn't understand how or when the two of you had gotten so close, even if she was glad that both of you were good friends. Despite how much of a pain in her ass the entirety of SVU could be, she did think that they were good people, especially Sonny.

"I will. Behave yourself until I get home." Rita gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as she led you out of her office. You made a stop by your own office to grab your coat while Rita called cars for the two of you.

[radradmarivy]

I hate marriage, i believe its an archaic institution made for men by men. Thats why im not getting married. With that said... I am not getting married because I am not in a relationship and I dont plan to be.

But if you are, sadly, in a relationship with anyone and specially if they are of the opposite sex, please get married. Dont fall for "its Just a paper bullshit", get fucking married. Because if you dont, even if you have 10 Kids with the bastard, even if you bought and built shit together, even if you spent almost 50 years together, when push comes to shove, you mean nothing without that paper.

Im not going to sit here and say that "its Just a paper" bullshit and watch as women end up in shitty situations when they lose everything. Not getting married to a man you built a family with can limit you socially and economically. What will you do if he dies or ends up in a coma and he has no will or didnt made you a beneficiary of anything he owns? You are fucked. You cant even be there for the asshole to take medical decisions, because you are nothing to society without the papers.

You know Who will decide if the fatjer of your Kids that refused to marry you but didnt thougth that a baby or two were such a big deal? His blood family or the ex wife he didnt legally divorce. Thats who! Why? Cuzco you got no papers so you are nobody! He dies. All the shit you had?? Can get taken by his Bloom family or any wife he didnt divorce. And you will have to figth nail and teeth to be able to keep anything for your Kids.

Not only that, take into a account how society makes it hard for single mothers to thrive. Think about the economical implications of this whole ordeal. Is it fucking worth it??

Ladies, stop giving family benefits to a man that doesnt see you as family. A dude says that marriage is too much of a compromise but is happy to have 3 Kids with you and play family, when he is not even protecting you all in case something bad happens? That dude doesnt love you, he doesnt love his Kids. He is just using you, making it easier for him to leave qhen the next young piece of ass come.

A baby links you two forever and ever, and he wants that before marriage? You cant divorce from a baby! What is even more final than a baby? 2, 3, 4, 5 babies are fine but marriage its Just a paper??? You all know that the moment the asshole leaves, you are all fucked?

No Matter how much i dislike marriage, its a binding contract and its made to protect you. Yes, justice is slow, men have ways and loopholes around it, we all know that. But if you really want to have Kids with some sleamy ass man whore, at least ask for a ring before popping out the little monsters.

That way you will be more protected. Your Kids will be more protected. Worst case escenario, the law is on your side. He ends up in the hospital and for some reason you want him to live? You can tell the doctors that and make decisions. You dont want to share shit with an ex wive? Make sure he is divorced already, marries you, and you wont have to share with nobody but him.

Dont get played by this douchebags, ladies. Remember that we are always the ones that have more to lose if shit goes south. Marriage binding contract and prenup, trust no man no máster how much you love him.

And never become economically dependant on them either. You will thank me later.

[parkers-notebook]

The House

(This is the opening to a lesbian horror story I wanted to work on when I was stuck on Red Death Ball. I know it's really exposition heavy, and I plan to edit that when the story is finished, but I wanted to share the backstory of the haunted house I'm creating)

There were signs all over the place. Really, my first clue should have been the fact that the listing was that underpriced. I mean, fifteen thousand for a rambling old Victorian mansion? One that was up to code, according to the inspector I hired to find out what the catch was, completely modernized while still maintaining the old world feeling? One that came prefurnished with lovely antique furniture, and even had a butler and maid service already set up? I should have run the other direction. I really should have.

And, I mean, I checked online. Most of the manors in this part of the state were going for four or five times that cost, and I'm talking for houses that are roughly half the size of Gracebourne Manor. This place is huge. Like... six acres of land, and a manor house that reminds me of Downton Abbey. There are servant passages in the damn walls! The last owners did a huge remodel, too, making sure all the plumbing was up to date and the house had electricity. It really was a good deal for the house.

Besides, Anna and I, we wanted a large place. Nice big plot of land for the kinds to play, if we ever got around to having those. We'd been talking about it for a while, but the time wasn't right. Even so, how many women in their mid twenties get the chance to own a place like Gracebourne Manor? Anna's inheritance would cover the cost outright, we didn't even have to mortgage it. And her trust fund could keep the property taxes covered, plus any emergency costs that might come up. We didn't need to worry about any of that.

I didn't marry Anna for her money, of course. Hell, I didn't even know her family was wealthy until we were engaged. Anna never cared about any of that. And sure, the Breckinridges never really liked me. Her mother, the high and mighty Lucinda Breckinridge, refused to her dying day to acknowledge that her only daughter was even a lesbian. Whatever. Alistair, her father, was cordial enough, and he made sure Lucinda didn't disown Anna for marrying me. He even refused to let Lucinda demand a prenup for our wedding. He just wanted Anna to be happy, and if Miss Evangeline Dumont from backwoods Georgia was it, then by God, he was going to make me feel welcome. Hell, half the money was left to me outright in the will. I didn't expect that, but it was nice.

So we could afford it. And I wanted Anna to have a bit of the privilege she was accustomed to. She said it didn't matter, that we were happy in our little walkup apartment in Savannah, but I wanted more for her. Hell, I wanted more for me too. I didn't intend to find Gracebourne Manor; I wanted a little house outside the city, but most of those were going for twenty thousand or more, and when the realtor mentioned Gracebourne Manor, well, I jumped at the chance.

But yeah, there were signs that something was off. I knew the history, of course. Gracebourne Manor, built in nineteen hundred by Mister Edward Henry Gracebourne. The Gracebourne family itself dated back to before the Civil War, but the original house, on a plot of land that no longer connects to the current acreage, burned down during the war. You see, the Gracebournes were good people, abolitionists in slave owning Georgia. They were accused of treason during the Southern succession, and while they escaped the charges, fleeing North during the war and staying there for a few decades after, the house was set aflame. A warning against them ever returning to Savannah.

But in the late eighteen nineties, Edward Gracebourne and his new bride, Miss Avaline Pritchard, returned to the ancestral land. They marked off six acres of the dozen or so that they still owned, and sold everything outside of that, including the spot where the original house stood. Edward designed and built the new Gracebourne Manor. It took ten years, during which time Avaline lived in a townhouse in downtown Savannah with her husband and their growing family. That townhouse, incidentally, was turned into apartments in the seventies, and is actually where Anna and I lived until we bought the manor.

But I digress. So, in nineteen ten, the new house was finished, and Edward moved his family into it: Avaline, their nine year old son, their seven year old daughter, and the three servants who lived with them. They kept the townhouse, so they had a place to stay when they were in the city. Everything was fine for about two years. During that time, Avaline gave birth to another little girl, Elizabeth, and they hired a new nanny to tend to her. Edward was away constantly, tending to his business interests up North, but he hired a caretaker for the manor and his family, one Richard Jameson.

It was rumored in town that little Elizabeth Gracebourne was not actually the daughter of Edward, but of Richard. She looked nothing like him, after all, though honestly, who can say what a child is going to look like when they grow up? But people were nasty gossips, and Richard living in that big house with Mrs. Gracebourne set tongues wagging. Edward didn't believe a word of it, of course. Avaline swore that she was faithful, and that was good enough for him.

It was during one of Edward's visits home that things began to go sour. The older daughter, Matilde, began claiming that there was a man in her room at night. Naturally, they at first assumed that she was imagining things. Until the night that Avaline, going to tend to her daughter after hearing her cry out, caught Mr. Jameson in the room with her. I won't say what he was caught doing, but I'm sure you can guess. Well, Avaline shrieked bloody murder, and Edward came running in with a pistol. When Avaline screamed, RIchard Jameson leapt on her, trying to make her hush, and when Edward saw that man atop his wife, half dressed and throttling her... he shot him.

Unfortunately, the bullet missed him. It didn't miss poor Avaline, though. Richard rolled away from her and fled past Edward, who was beside himself at the turn of events. He dropped that gun and went to his wife, trying to save her. Matilde's screams brought the butler running, and before long, the police had been summoned. Edward was arrested for the murder of his wife, though he was later acquitted when Matilde was able to testify that he'd been trying to protect Avaline. He returned to Gracebourne Manor, and there he stayed.

Matilde committed suicide at fifteen. She couldn't get past the trauma of what Richard Jameson had done to her, or the trauma of seeing her mother die in front of her. Her younger sister, Elizabeth, found her hanging from the banister of the attic hallway. Elizabeth herself went missing, also at fifteen, never to be seen again. Edward ate a bullet in nineteen twenty seven, a year after Elizabeth's disappearance. And the son, Edward Jr? He began to receive letters from an unknown source, each one containing a tantalizing clue about his sister's whereabouts, though they never panned out. Elizabeth was declared dead in nineteen thirty. Edward Jr sold Gracebourne Manor and moved back to the townhouse in Savannah. During World War Two, he was killed in a battle in France. No one knows what became of Richard Jameson.

Every owner of Gracebourne Manor has reported seeing things, feeling cold spots, all the usual haunted house claptrap. So Anna was wary about the house. But we couldn't raise a family in that little walkup apartment. We couldn't even have a dog there. No pets allowed. And we had the money, so why not make the change?

Besides, she changed her mind once she saw the house. It really was a lovely old place, and as I said, completely modernized inside. We even had internet. And a pond on the property, where we could teach kids to swim. So after the inspector returned a clean bill of health for the house, we signed the papers and started the process to move in.

I really should have paid attention to the signs.

[book-reviews-by-an-idiot]

No One Needs to Know by Lindsay Cameron

271 pages

Dual POV

2.5 🌟

Spice level-🌶

***Contains spoilers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!***

As I first started this story I was expecting drama, murder, a who dunit mystery that kept me on my toes. I was underwhelmed and unimpressed on how it played out.

The story follows three mothers: Norah, Heather, and Poppy.

Heather is the classic mom who wanted better for her Daughter Violet than herself. She pushes her daughter hard to do good in school, get excellent over-the-top grades, and get into a high-level boarding school for high school. She works as an author and is one of the few parents at Violet's school that doesn't have millions. She wants her daughter to succeed but when a leaked picture on an anon Insta account gets seen by hundreds, she might go a little too far to protect her own.

Norah was your typical workaholic mom who was hardly home, hoping she isn't messing up her child by being gone all the time. She made millions so her family never had to worry about finances like she did as a kid, with her mom slowly succumbing to Parkinson's (which is only ever brought up once throughout the book). All she wanted was to keep Caroline on track and try not to notice how sketchy her husband, Bennett, had been lately. Her husband also owned a gym where he trained those on lacrosse teams called Reflex an important detail at the beginning of the book.

Poppy wasn't happy in her marriage. It was sexless and unloving, she was a trophy wife in her relationship, but she didn't mean to cheat. Or rather she definitely did. Norah had the right to be suspicious about her new husband Bennett. At first, it was just flirting, a quip here, a compliment about her lips there. Until she invited him into her and her husband's bed. The prenup she had signed with her husband flashed before her eyes. She had screwed up, Bad.

She also had a housekeeper that I will call M. She was incredibly good-looking and one of the only ones to see Bennett come into the apartment for the cheating event. And always seemed to be in the wrong room at the wrong time.

Not long into the story, the readers find out about an app called UrbanMyth and The Doubles dance.

UrbanMyth is an anonymous app where you can go to post just about anything you can set your mind to. Cheating husbands, inflation at the grocery store, and accused drug dealers in a private middle school. Anyone can comment, but the catch? It only takes a small group of hackers to send it tumbling down(I will come back to this in a second)

The Doubles dance is basically if someone locked 100 or so celebrities in a room without their phones. The kids were all filthy rich and didn't realize their actions had consequences. All three kids end up at this dance: Poppy's son Henry, Heather's daughter Violet, and Norah's daughter Caroline. Henry is covered in phone numbers written in pen by the girls at the dance, a weird tradition that they have there.

As Heather drops off her child, waiting back just to make sure, a child, a girl, sneaks around the guard not giving him her phone, and runs into the dance. This is where the drama starts, with this well-written line by Heather that makes it sound like her daughter died but was actually just caught vaping. (Henry is in the picture as well, or rather his arm reaching out to take the vape from Violet)

"Rules were rules. If she hadn't left. If She'd somehow intervened. If. If. If."

As I said previously, Violet was caught in a picture, vaping, and was posted to an anon Instagram account, to which Heather freaks out and blames Norah's daughter Caroline. Eventually going as far as to search through Caroline's phone for the picture which leads me to my next subject.

Bennett, lovingly referred to as stepdad by caroline, bastard by Poppy, and countless other names by me as the book continues on. Bennett has a business of sleeping with wealthy women and getting them on tape if you catch my drift, forcing them to give up a ransom for deletion of the video(but let's be honest he probably doesn't delete them.) As he and Poppy are laying in the bed she sees his phone recording and screams at him to leave. A lot of stuff goes down but in small words, he demands money in a week and she freaks out thinking her husband is going to divorce her and take everything because of the prenup. She does end up transferring him the money, but wasn't able to meet up with him so she doesn't know if he deleted the video.

Caroline finds out about Poppy and Bennett very early on, catching a picture of them on her phone, making out in the backseat of her car. Norah later finds this picture, as does Heather as said above, and kicks him out of the house, with him telling her she will regret what he had done.

As I said before, Urbanmyth is very popular amongst the Crfton middle school parents. Except, well it gets hacked. Everyone's secrets are out. A lot of stuff happens during this time but it's not big enough to be remembered by me. Except Heather doing something incredibly stupid after finding the picture. Posting on the app about how she was sleeping with the coach at Reflex, trying to out Poppy to the world. But instead getting heavily questioned by the police.

Norah gets a call from Bennett's mom about not being at her birthday party and this is when the story gets juicy. You see he had never missed a party of his dear mother's. Like ever. A few days later he's missing. Oh no not Bennett.

Skipping a few parts we are in the living room of Poppy's apartment. Heather, Poppy, M, and the doorman stand there. A secret is let out, Bennett wasn't just missing, he was murdered. By M. Which she annoyingly, and willingly admits. The day Poppy was supposed to meet him in the apartment, Bennett went after M, touched her in a place she didn't like while she was cleaning, and tried to rape her. She pushed him off, she was on a ladder, and he hit his head and died on impact(or possibly broke his neck I can't remember exactly. Maybe both.) Fernando, the doorman, hid the body because M and he are dating.

He is found a day before this interaction, in the water underneath a bridge. The police suspect no foul play, and when they arrive at Norah's apartment tell her that he most likely committed suicide by jumping off the bridge. Poppy and the others find this in the news headlines and accept this as their new normal.

The book ends with M in a bank, holding a 100k check in her hands and depositing it into her account. Poppy had given it to her for her silence, and because she was laying her off. And then she is free.

All in all the book by itself is a decent and quick read. But don't trust the tags that read 'thriller', 'fast-paced', or 'murder mystery' because it's just not that. On page 240ish, the murder is first brought up. I rated this book this way because I was severely disappointed, and led to believe it was something it was not. There is no mystery ad the one who murdered Bennet was jut out right said and there was no detectiveness that you could do to try and figure it out. I wished that it was in third person because the three person dual POV was a little hard to follow at first, and wished the book was much longer. I also would have loved to learn more about Poppy's son Henry because it seemed he was just there to connect her to Crofton. And honestly I think the kids' POV's would have been a cool way to do this as well. If you want a quick read I recommend it, but if you want a thriller? Somewhere else is your best bet.

[stories-poetry4all]

After the divorce, she hid her pregnancy and left. Five years later, she took the child to work, only to find out that he was CEO. He broke down, "Who is the father of this child?"

=========================================

Chapter 1 Ex-girlfriend Returns

Raegan Hayes was a little absent-minded at the moment.

All she could think of since this afternoon was the doctor's words. "Congratulations! You are going to be a mom."

Suddenly, Mitchel Dixon pinched her arm. His low voice came the next second. "Come back to earth. What are you thinking about?"

Mitchel was her husband. They had been married secretly for two years. He was her superior at work, the president of the Dixon Group.

Everything had happened so fast. She was newly employed in the company when they unexpectedly got married.

At that time, Mitchel's grandfather fell seriously ill. It was then he proposed a fake marriage just to fulfill his grandfather's dying wish.

They signed a prenup, agreeing to hide their marriage from the public. Their union could be terminated at any time.

It was an unconventional thing to do. However, Raegan only considered herself lucky at that time.

Never in a million years did she think she would ever get married to the man she had a crush on for eight years. She delightfully agreed.

After their marriage, Mitchel was very busy. He spent most of his time working.

Raegan wished she could spend more time with him at home. However, she was rest assured because there hadn't been any rumors or scandals about him with women in the past two years.

Except for his mild indifference, Mitchel was a perfect husband.

Raegan had mixed feelings as she stared at the medical report.

In the end, she decided to tell Mitchel this news.

She also wanted to tell him that she hadn't learned about him for the first time two years ago and that she had been crushing on him for many years before then.

Just then, Mitchel’s phone rang. He went to the balcony and answered the phone.

Raegan checked the time and found that it was already midnight.

She felt a little uneasy. Who would call Mitchel at this hour?

Mitchel spent a few minutes on the balcony. Thereafter, he returned and changed into formal attire. His handsome face which had a clear outline made him look dignified.

He was something to see now.

"Don't wait up for me. Good night," he said finally.

What? He was on his way out? At this hour?

Raegan's grip on the report tightened as she stared at him in disappointment. Unconsciously, she withdrew slightly. After thinking for a while, she blurted out, "It's already so late."

Mitchel's fingers froze on his tie. With a faint smile, he pinched her earlobe and said, "Be good, okay? There's something I have to do. Don't wait up."

With that, he headed for the door.

"Mitchel."

Raegan quickly ran and caught up with him.

Mitchel turned around and looked at her seriously.

"What's the matter?"

There was a tinge of coldness to his voice. An icy cloud hung over them as they stared at each other.

A little distressed, Raegan asked in a low voice, "I would like to visit my grandma tomorrow. Can you accompany me there?"

Her grandmother always wanted to see her. As a result, Raegan wanted to take Mitchel there to assure her grandma they were happy.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow, okay?" Without agreeing or declining, Mitchel left in a hurry.

Several thoughts were threading Raegan's mind. She couldn't sleep a wink.

After tossing and turning for a long time, she went to the kitchen and made herself a warm glass of milk.

A few notifications from some online blogs came into her phone.

However, she wasn't interested in them. She was about to swipe them away when one of them caught her attention. The familiar name made her click on it.

The news read, "Famous designer, Lauren Murray was spotted at the airport with her mysterious boyfriend earlier today."

Lauren was wearing a bucket hat. The man's figure was vague, but the outline of his body was enough to show that he was dashing.

Raegan zoomed in on the picture. The next second, her heart dropped.

Mitchel was the man in the picture!

So, he canceled the afternoon meeting just to go pick up his ex-girlfriend from the airport?

This realization settled like a boulder in Raegan's gut, rendering her flustered.

Her hands trembled. Subconsciously, she dialed Mitchel's number.

The dial tone brought her back to her senses. Just as she was about to hang up, the line connected, and a voice came from the other end.

"Hello!"

It was a particularly gentle woman's voice.

Raegan froze for a second and then threw the phone away.

She suddenly felt sick in her stomach. Covering her mouth, she ran into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet bowl.

The next morning, Raegan went to work on time.

Mitchel had tried to get her to stop working after they got married. Stubbornly, she insisted on making her own money.

Mitchel didn't kick against her decision, but he asked her to work as his assistant, helping him with the daily chores.

The head assistant, Matteo Jenkins was left to take care of the major affairs Mitchel had.

Matteo was the only Dixon Group employee who knew about their marriage.

Since inception, only male assistants were hired for the president's office. Reagan was the first and only female. Her employment broke the protocol. As a result, other workers couldn't help but wonder if she was involved with Mitchel.

It took a while before they realized that Mitchel never gave Raegan special treatment. Strangely, this made them despise her even more.

After all, no one would last long in anything while taking advantage of their looks.

At this time, one of Raegan's colleagues handed her a document and ordered her to take it to Mitchel's office.

Mitchel didn't return home last night. Raegan was so worried that she didn't sleep at all.

All she kept thinking about was the woman who answered his phone when she called. What was her relationship with Mitchel?

Raegan already knew the answer to that, but she was still in denial.

It was difficult for her to come to terms with that fact.

Raegan tried to remain calm now. She reasoned that no matter what happened, she deserved a result that would be rewarding for all the years she spent loving Mitchel. This couldn't be all for nothing, right?

She pressed the elevator button calmly and went up to the president's office. Before she walked out of the elevator, she smoothed her hair to make sure she looked good.

She had arrived at the office, only to see that the door was ajar. A man's voice came. She halted instantly.

"Come on, man! Do you have any feelings for Raegan or not?"

The voice belonged to Luis Stevens, a childhood friend of Mitchel's.

"What do you mean exactly?" Mitchel asked in a cold voice.

"You know exactly what I mean!" Luis clicked his tongue impatiently and added, "I think Raegan is a good girl. Isn't she your type?"

"Do you want me to hand her over to you?" Mitchel asked carelessly.

"You know what, forget it!"

The scornful laughter of Luis sounded particularly harsh in Raegan's ears.

They were talking about her as if she were an object.

Raegan took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the document.

Soon, Luis's voice was heard again.

"By the way, I saw the gossip news about Lauren's mysterious boyfriend this morning. That was you, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, well, well! That woman still has you wrapped around her little finger. You always want to please her."

Luis sighed and continued to tease Mitchel. "As the old saying goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Tell me, did you two..."

Their conversation was like a thunder exploding over Raegan's head.

Her face turned pale and her body was as cold as ice.

The woman was indeed Lauren!

Absence made the heart grow fonder!

Every word drove a knife into her heart.

Several whispering voices filled her head at this time. She suddenly felt light-headed. Her vision became blurry.

She held the wall and took a step backward. Suddenly, the door was opened from inside.

"Raegan?"

Chapter 2 One-sided Love

Luis was the one who opened the door. It appeared he was on his way out.

Raegan balled her hands, turned to him, and nodded. "Hey, Mr. Stevens!"

Without waiting for him to respond to her greeting, she walked past him and entered the office with the document.

Mitchel was seated behind a large luxurious desk. In an expensive suit and matching tie, he looked particularly handsome.

Raegan noticed it wasn't the same suit he had on when he left home last night. How did he get changed?

With her eyes lowered, she swallowed that question and said instead, "Mr. Dixon, this is from the Marketing Department. Please sign it."

Mitchel was expressionless as he signed the document at a glance.

Raegan walked out the door as soon as he handed the document back to her. Luis was still standing at the threshold.

It wasn't until she went out of sight that Luis turned to Mitchel and said in a hushed tone, "Do you think she heard us?"

Mitchel's appealing eyes were expressionless at the moment. Obviously, he wasn't paying attention to what Luis was saying.

To Mitchel, Raegan had always been docile and never felt jealous of anyone.

Her strict obedience was all Mitchel demanded from her in exchange for treating her well.

In the elevator.

Raegan held her breath just to hold back her tears. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

She had thought two years would be enough for Mitchel to realize how much she loved him and reciprocate her love.

Now, it turned out that was just a pipe dream.

She realized she would always play second fiddle to Lauren, Mitchel's true love.

Reagan wiped her tears when the elevator halted. Save for her pale face, she looked normal when the doors opened.

She dragged herself to the break room, intending to make herself a cup of tea.

Several employees were chatting inside.

"Guys, have you heard? Lauren Murray is back."

"And who is that?"

"Oh, my! You don't know her? Lauren is the heiress of the Murray Group as well as a world-class designer. Most importantly, she's the only girlfriend Mr. Dixon has ever shown off in public. She's his first love!"

"Why is her return such a big deal? Isn't it rumored that there is something between Mr. Dixon and Raegan?"

"Raegan? She's nothing to Mr. Dixon. Mr. Dixon never admitted that he was dating her. And that is no surprise to me. After all, look at her. She's not even that beautiful. Yet, she behaves as if she's already Mrs. Dixon. What a fool!"

Standing at the door, Raegan smiled with self-mockery as she listened to them. It turned out everyone else saw the truth except her.

The love was one-sided.

"Ha-ha, have you finally woken up from your wild dream, Raegan?"

A voice of mockery suddenly came from behind. Raegan turned around to see Tessa Lloyd, Mitchel's cousin, who had always despised her.

Tessa must have also heard the employees gossiping.

The last thing Raegan wanted to do now was argue with Tessa in the company. She turned to leave, but Tessa blocked her way.

With a cup of coffee in her hand, Tessa uttered sarcastically, "Lauren is back now. Do you think Mitchel will still give you any attention?"

Raegan said nothing to that.

Seconds later, Tessa continued the ridicule. "Maybe it’s time for you to seek out another man, you pathetic fool."

Raegan clenched her fists and said coldly, "Ms. Lloyd, if you are interested in that kind of thing, feel free to pursue it yourself."

"You..."

Raegan's retort made Tessa's face change.

The next second, Tessa raised her hand and emptied the cup of coffee on Raegan.

Raegan didn't think for a second that Tessa would do something so crazy. She held up her arms just to block the liquid from her face. In no time, the coffee drenched her clothes.

Raegan frowned. "What did you do that for? Are you out of your mind?"

It was lunch break and many employees were free to watch the drama. Tessa was even more complacent when she saw growing onlookers.

She put on a mean-girl look as she said, "What makes you so smug every day, huh? Do you seriously think that others don't know you are just an orphan? The nerve of..."

Tessa was silenced by Raegan’s shove.

Her jaw dropped to the floor. She had never expected that Raegan, who was so quiet and timid, would shove her.

Tessa stuttered, "You... You pushed me? How dare you!"

Raegan eyed her and replied, "Yes, I did! It seems you need to be taught simple politeness."

Indeed, she lost her parents when she was a child. But that didn't mean she would allow someone to walk over her for it.

Wrinkles appeared on Tessa's face as she frowned in anger. As Mitchel's cousin, she was used to being fawned over and respected. This was the first time she had been treated like this.

Tessa charged at Raegan like a raging bull, poised to retaliate.

This time, Raegan was fully prepared for what was coming. She grabbed Tessa's wrist so that the latter couldn't move another inch.

Tessa was shorter than Raegan. As a result, she struggled like an octopus that had one of its tentacles stuck in a fishing trap.

Tessa cursed angrily, "How dare you put your hands on me? Who do you think you are?"

These harsh words attracted more people to the break room.

"That's enough!"

Out of the blue, a baritone came from behind. Mitchel had left his office and ran into this hullabaloo.

The entire room fell silent.

"Mitchel?" Tessa's blood ran cold at the sight of Mitchel. She had always been scared of him. Her mother also warned her against provoking him.

But when she remembered that Raegan humiliated her, she put on a pitiful expression and sobbed. "Mitchel, she bullied me."

The sunlight from outside fell on Mitchel's handsome face.

Raegan felt so grieved all of a sudden, and lowered her head to look at her clothes which were soaked with coffee.

Their gaze met in the air. With a deep frown, Mitchel looked at Raegan and said, "Raegan, have you forgotten the rules of the company?"

His ruthlessness made Raegan's breathing cease. She couldn't believe her ears.

No one dared to make a sound at this moment.

Raegan just stood straight there with her slender figure.

When she got employed here, Mitchel had told her that the Dixon Group wasn't a place for her to mess around and that he would not tolerate her making any mistakes.

Raegan could understand why he took this stand.

However, at this moment, she was desperate to know whether Mitchel had heard those hard words Tessa scolded her or he was just pretending not to have heard because he agreed to those words.

Was she truly insignificant to him?

Scared to death by Mitchel's rage, the crowd soon dispersed. A few employees were bold enough to peep from a distance, unwilling to miss the good show.

Mitchel's cold eyes made Raegan shiver from head to toe.

Raegan pinched her palm to suppress her emotions as she looked at Tessa.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lloyd. As an employee of the Dixon Group, it was wrong of me to have offended you."

Eyeing Raegan, Tessa raised her chin complacently. "Humph! Don't think you'll be let off the hook just by making a simple apology. I don't buy..."

"The offence has nothing to do with the company. Personally, I refuse to apologize to you. Now, if you'd excuse me," Raegan chimed in.

She then walked past Mitchel without sparing him another look.

"You..."

Tessa's face turned blue after hearing what Raegan said.

Never in her years of being alive had she been so humiliated. She was always the bully, not the victim!

The humiliation was so much that scolding Raegan wouldn't appease her anger.

Pointing in Raegan's direction, Tessa shouted, "Mitchel, did you hear what that woman just said? She humiliated me, yet she's still so arrogant. Call her back. I have to teach her some manners!"

Mitchel, staring at Raegan's thin back, had an ambiguous expression at this moment.

"Enough!" he said coldly, raising his hand.

As someone who lived and breathed drama and cruelty, Tessa didn't think Mitchel was partial to Raegan just now. She assumed that Mitchel didn't care about Raegan at all.

Tessa gritted her teeth and said viciously, "Next time, I'll get someone to teach her a lesson."

"Tessa!" Mitchel's tone and squint made it a reproof.

Tessa trembled at once.

With a somber face, Mitchel said, "I'll only say it once. Forget about what happened here today. Leave Raegan alone."

The aura he exuded made her tongue go dry. All the vicious ideas she had in store against Raegan disappeared in an instant.

She stammered, "Ok... Okay, got it..."

Mitchel cast a cold glance at her and spoke to Matteo. "Irrelevant people wouldn't be allowed in here from today onwards."

Without catching the drift, Tessa flattered Mitchel. "Nice call. This is a top company. Not everyone gains access in here."

Matteo nodded to Mitchel and then walked over to Tessa. He gestured to the exit. "Ms. Lloyd, this way, please."

It wasn't until this moment that Tessa realized that she was the irrelevant person Mitchel just mentioned. She tried to speak to him, but Matteo blocked her way. The security guards then escorted her out.

They showed her no mercy. Her struggle was useless.

Meanwhile, Raegan got changed when she returned to her office.

Her heart was filled with sadness as she thought of how Mitchel looked at her minutes ago.

Closing hour soon rolled by.

Raegan took her bag and headed for the exit. However, Matteo stopped her.

He said, "Mr. Dixon has something urgent to deal with, so he asked me to drive you home."

Raegan declined the ride without thinking twice.

She was blind before, but now she could see through the situation.

In Mitchel's eyes, she was just a nobody.

How could Mitchel agree to accompany her to visit her grandmother when he didn't even care about her?

Upon arriving at the hospital, Raegan saw that the nurse was about to feed her grandmother dinner. Raegan took the job over and did it by herself.

All her life, her grandmother had been living in the countryside, enjoying a quiet life. Everything changed last month when her routine medical checkup showed that she was in need of medical care. Raegan insisted on bringing her to the city for better treatment.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 12) - Not So Sweet Home

Summary: Jensen is fed up with his parents ignoring Y/N all day and when he gets a moment alone, blows up on them like never before. The reader sees how upset Jensen is over what’s happening and does her best to defend him while still trying to salvage a relationship with them...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,200ish

Warnings: language, major family angst, mention of a dead parent

A/N: Eek! If you like angst this part is for you! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

It was late, the kids asleep in the guest bedroom, Jensen’s siblings and their families gone home for the evening aside from his brother. He made some half ass excuse about wanting to hang out with Jensen more but you knew he could sense what you did. Jensen was getting close to popping after a whole day of politeness on his part and his parents ignoring you on theirs.

Jensen was bouncing his knee like crazy as he sipped on his beer around a gas fire pit, suddenly stopping when you shifted in your seat.

“Maybe you ought to cool it with the alcohol tonight,” said his dad. Jensen set his empty bottle down on the grass and breathed deeply through his nose. “Your legs been-”

“Y/N, would you get me another beer please?” asked Jensen. You took the opportunity to get out of there, surprised when the back door opened quickly after you, his brother closing it behind him.

“I don’t think your parents like me very much,” you said, going to the fridge and pulling out a drink. 

“I know,” he said, glancing out the dark window. “Jensen asked me to make sure you don’t come back out there.”

“He’s gonna go off on them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m guessing,” he said with a sigh. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to go well. You guys can crash at my place if you want. We don’t have a guest room but we have an air mattress we can put in the family room.”

“You think it’ll be that bad?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Then why are we in here talking about this when we should be out there making sure he doesn’t say something he regrets in the morning.”

“You might hear things you can’t unhear,” he said. 

“Right now my concern isn’t if my feelings get hurt. He’s really upset and I need him to be okay.”

“You know that’s why the rest of us like you, don’t you? You care about him, the kids. You’re in love with him.”

“Yes I am,” you said as he nodded.

“You call me if either of you ever need anything,” he said, going back to the door. You nodded and took a deep breath, following him outside and already hearing raised voices.

“She’s half your age, Jensen,” said his mom. “She was your nanny. Sweetie you have to know what’s going on here.”

“You’re getting played,” said his father, catching you walking out with Josh.

“She is not half my age. She’s thirty fucking years old! She’s a goddamn adult and been through more shit then both of you put together! She’s not after fucking money,” snapped Jensen who was already out of his seat.

“You’re engaged to the girl after five months!” said his father. “It took you years to propose the first time around!”

“Because I was a nervous kid that was away working constantly. I didn’t want to make Dee stay if it was gonna make her unhappy. I’m not afraid of how I feel anymore because I feel the same about her as I do Dee and I’m not wasting my time so I can stick to your socially acceptable schedule,” said Jensen. “I love her and she’s gonna be part of this family whether you like it or not. Deal with it.”

“You need a prenup,” said his dad.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! You’ve known the girl for not even six months!”

“She’s not up to anything!” shouted Jensen.

“Son-”

“Have you ever lost your wife? Have you ever been in the car and almost die yourself while you watch her breathe for the last time? Where she’s hurt and you can’t do a thing to fix it? Have you ever had to tell your children their mother is dead and she’s not coming back? You have no idea, no idea, what that does to you, how much it hurts and how much it hurts when you’re still so fucked up and your parents start making comments behind closed doors about you and you have to pretend you’re better when you’re really not. When you don’t even care about yourself anymore, when you pretend for everyone’s sake so they stop treating you like a child, when you don’t know how to tell your kids it’s okay because it’s not. It’s not. Until you go through that, until you know how bad it hurts, don’t assume a damn thing about her. She’s my best friend and she makes me feel like my old self again. I laugh and smile and have fun and when I get scared or feel guilty or freak out she makes me feel better. I don’t give a fuck how old she is or what her job was. She’s kind and good and she deserves better than you two. Danneel’s parents like her. Jared’s parents like her. Her old foster dad’s family likes her. Our family likes her except for you two. Get your heads out of your asses or you can not even bother letting me know you exist anymore. I’m done with things hurting the women I care about. I couldn’t stop what happened to Dee but I can sure as hell keep Y/N away from the two of you,” said Jensen. He huffed and walked off, Josh running off after him. 

“Well congratulations. You got your hooks in him deep, don’t you,” said his father. You rolled your eyes and his mother scoffed.

“You can take care of someone without treating them like a child you know. He’s an incredibly strong person. If you don’t like me fine. But don’t call him stupid or easily manipulated or imply that it’s wrong to know you love someone after only a certain amount of time. I love your son.”

“You love his money,” said his mom.

“I do just fine on my own,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “He’s staying at Josh’s house tonight. We’ll pick up the kids in the morning.”

“He’s overreacting. He’ll be fine in the morning,” said his dad. You crossed your arms and leaned your head back. “He’ll be fine.”

“You two don’t know a thing about me and you assume I want money because of my age and my former career. Don’t assume your son will be fine and get over it.”

“We’ve known him a lot longer than you have. He’ll get over it after a night’s rest.”

“You may have known him longer and I’m sure in some regards you do know him better but not the ones that matter. If you did, you would have seen how much he would have loved for the two of you to like me. I would have taken some respect and been happy because trust me, I get how this looks to everyone else. I understand you have fears and I’m not mad you have them. I’m mad you assume those are facts when all they are is a story you made up in your head you don’t want to change. He’s right, I’m not going anywhere. The difference between him and me though is that I’ll stay out here all damn night with the two of you until you get it through your heads that I’m not here to fuck him over. I love him. I don’t have family, not really. Things have always been screwed up for me pretty much until I met him and he didn’t have to say it for me to know that he was hoping he could share the two of you with me. Maybe I was hoping for that too. But right now I’ll take some goddamn respect and an apology to your son to start and we can go from there.”

“You’re gonna curse at us and expect an apology?” said his mom. “We know you took him when he was at his low and tricked him into trusting you so you could get exactly what you wanted.”

“You know what I want? What I’ve always wanted and somehow always seems to get ripped away? A family. A stupid fucking family. Being a nanny? That let me feel like part of the family. I could pretend I was like all of those people I worked for. Nice and normal and like people gave a shit. Some kindness and a family is all I’ve ever wanted. You two...you wouldn’t have survived a day in my childhood. In my adulthood with the shitty ex boyfriend and the crappy friends and I picked myself over all of them because my mom told me to stand up for myself. Even when she couldn’t be there and I wanted her to. So I stand up for myself and now I stand up for him and those three kids to anyone and I mean anyone, that hurts them. He’s my family and those kids are my family. I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do but I guarantee the only thing I will do is tell you two where to shove it and to leave him the hell alone.”

“Why would we believe anything you say? At all?” his dad asked. “It’s probably the same sad story you told him to get him on the line. I don’t buy it.”

“I have a million dollar book deal. I’ve worked rent free for a lot of rich people since I was eighteen years old. Do I sound like someone who needs his money?” you said. You put your hands on your hips and shook your head. “What is it? You want me to sign a prenup? I would but he doesn’t want one. He trusts me and for a guy that lost his wife and had to work through falling in love with another person, I respect that. He knows what he wants and he’s not wasting time. This is scary for him. It’s scary for me. But when Dee’s parents gave me open arms and kindness and their blessing, the last people I ever expected to disapprove were you two. If you’re going to stand there and keeping calling me a liar, I’m going to find your sons and I’m going take care of Jensen instead of wasting my time here.”

“We don’t disapprove of him moving on and marrying again,” said his mom as you turned to walk away.

“Could have fooled me,” you said. 

“He’s going too fast and he doesn’t know you either, not well enough to make a decision like that,” said his dad. You turned around and smiled.

“He knows my favorite color. He knows what my favorite flavor of ice cream is. He knows why I have nightmares and he knows how to make me forget them in the first place. I’m sorry we aren’t doing things on your schedule but it’s his life. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with it, whether that’s me or somebody else. For the record, he knows me just fine. Oh and if this is how you plan on speaking to him again in the morning, I’ll pick up the kids myself.”

“We’re looking out for his best interest,” said his dad.

“No, you think you’re looking at his wallet for him. See money? People think that’s important and it is but best interest? It ain’t that shit,” you said as you started to leave.

“Well what do you assume his best interest is then?” said his mom. 

“Treating him like an adult. He is smart and strong and the most emotionally healthy man I’ve ever met which considering all the fucked up shit he’s been through and felt the past year is really saying something. He’s your child but he’s not a child. He found someone he loves and all he wanted to do was share me with you. This was his worst nightmare and I couldn’t stop it. So if you’re not gonna even try with me, then I’m gonna protect him from you.”

“He doesn’t need protecting from us,” he said.

“You call him stupid and that he can’t take care of himself, that he can be fooled and that the person he thinks is his best friend really only wants him for his money. He knows none of those things are true but it’s what you said to him when you said that about me. For a man who went through what he did, it wasn’t mean. It was cruel. I’m gonna go fix what I can of your relationship with him because despite all that, I know you guys love each other and I’m not letting that get fucked up because you think whatever the hell you think about me.”

You stormed off around the house and found Josh’s truck still there but neither man in sight. You looked around and heard a sniffle, your head going up to the roof. You saw the lattice work on the side and climbed up, peeking your head up to spot the two of them sat on the roof.

“Hey,” you said quietly. Jensen wouldn’t look at you, Josh rubbing his back. 

“Careful,” he said as you climbed up and slowly walked over. You took a seat on your bottom, spotting the window behind them. “That was my room. Jensen used to sneak out this way. I was always too nervous of getting caught to try myself. You landed the bad boy of the family.”

“Oh yeah, such a bad boy,” you said. You scooted closer on your butt to him, Jensen resting his head on his knees. “Hey. Before you even think about it don’t say you’re sorry.”

“I know,” he said. He took a deep breath but looked up, looking fairly normal aside from a slightly pink nose. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Nobody was,” said Josh. “I’ll give you guys a minute. I’ll be in my car when you’re ready.”

“You should go home,” said Jensen. “Staying in a different house won’t change anything.”

“That was kinda fucked up what they said.” Jensen raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “I don’t always agree with them. If you guys want to stay, that’s your choice but I’m not going home without telling them what a mistake they’re making.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re my little brother and I like her. Even if I didn’t, they’re being assholes and she doesn’t deserve that. You don’t. Alright?”

Jensen nodded and Josh walked off to the lattice and climbed down while you scooted next to Jensen. 

“You thought your siblings weren’t gonna like me,” you said.

“He’s a good person. He’s never told off our parents before so...I don’t know if I’m happy about that or not.”

“He’s a good big brother,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “I don’t love you for your family though. I don’t care if your parents don’t like me. I’ll deal with it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” he said.

“I still like your dad so much better than mine,” you said.

“Yours is a monster to be fair.”

“Yeah, he is. Yours love you and I don’t agree with them but in their minds, they’re protecting you and I don’t have a problem with anyone trying to do that.”

“How are you so fucking kind to them after they basically said you’re with their dumbass son because of money?”

“Like you said, I know monsters. I know toxic and bad. They aren’t it. They raised you and I really, really like you. Good people can be stupid and still be good. In the morning we’ll try again.”

“What if I can’t get them to change their minds?” he said quietly. 

“Jensen,” you said, moving to squat down in front of him. You grabbed his cheeks and he stared at you. “You don’t have to pick anybody over anybody. Maybe I won’t be close with them but that’s okay. It’s so okay. We’ll respect each other or just won’t talk to each other and we’ll figure it out but we don’t have to do it all tonight.”

“I think what bothers me the most is they’ve already made up their minds about you based on your age when they don’t even realize who you are. They don’t see that this is the kind of person you are, kind and supportive and I heard you not taking their bullshit. You’re a stronger person than I am and I wish they could see that the reason I’m not freaking out over this is cause I know you’re my partner and you got my back like I got yours. I’m just having a hard time understanding why they won’t even listen to us.”

“I don’t know,” you said, eyes darting to the window when you caught some movement inside. You narrowed them and glanced down, spotting the crack between the windowsill and frame. “I’m a little cool. I’m gonna get my sweatshirt if that’s okay.”

“Careful climbing in,” he said, turning on his bottom and pushing the window up. You kissed his cheek and climbed inside, the room empty as far as you could tell. You stepped out to the hall and into his old room, getting your hoodie, his old hoodie. You pulled it on but went downstairs, catching his parents in the kitchen with Josh.

“Josh may I speak to your parents in private,” you said.

“Yeah. I’m done here. I’ll be over for brunch, okay?” he said. He walked past you and caught your arm. “Call me if you need me back.” You nodded and he kissed your temple before he went out. 

“Were you eavesdropping on us?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“We went to tell him to get off the roof. We could see him from the backyard up there,” said his mom, putting her back to you as she mixed up something in a mug. “But we heard the three of you talking and then the two of you. We didn’t mean-”

“We are all on the same side. His side. We should get along. It shouldn’t be this difficult and I don’t appreciate private conversations being listened in on. But I hope you understand that you hurt your son. I know you didn’t mean to and it’s the last thing you’d ever want to do to him. But you did. So please try to help me fix this. This isn’t easy for me to accept that you don’t like me either but you’re gonna respect me. If we can respect each other, then he’s not going to worry as much at least. Please promise that we can agree to that,” you said. His parents looked at each other and you sighed. “You have to be kidding me. What do you want me to do? Go away? I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

“That’s not...Jensen called your father a monster up there,” he said. 

“I thought it was a sob story according to you ten minutes ago.”

“You said you don’t have parents. He said your father is alive.”

“What’s your point, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Please enlighten me.”

“It doesn’t make much sense to tell different stories,” he said. 

“You can’t even give me the benefit of the doubt that I love your son. Why the fuck would I tell you things only he knows, things so few people know about. Why would I trust you with the worst parts of my life when you don’t accept the best ones. For your information, my birth mother is dead. My adoptive mother is dead. I wish my son of a bitch father was dead. The only glimmer of a parent I have maybe, maybe was my foster father. That was until last weekend. I met some parents. I met Dee’s. I met Jared’s. I got the same message from all of them. Let us know if you ever need anything. Oh the way he looks at you. You must be pretty special. Anything at all, you give us a call. People that don’t even have an obligation to look in my direction treated me like I was their kid. So maybe he and I both got our hopes up with you two and that was on us. If you want to pick apart what I’ve said and call me a liar…” you said, putting your hands on your hips. Your shut your eyes and breathed deeply, turning around. “I don’t care if you have to pretend to respect me. Just do it for his sake and the kids sakes, alright?”

A tissue appeared over your shoulder and you took it, blowing your nose and stepping away. 

“When did your mother’s pass?” you heard behind you. You threw your head back and took a deep breath.

“When I was born and when I was sixteen,” you said, turning around and swallowing. “Why does that matter?”

“When were you adopted?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Please.”

“I was eight,” you said.

“So you only had your mother for eight years then,” he said. 

“Yeah. She got sick when I was fourteen. I stayed with her boyfriend until I moved out for my first nanny job at eighteen. It was all very sad and angsty,” you said.

“Who made the first move?” 

“I’m done with this interrogation,” you said. You started to leave but he stepped in front of you. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want to know who made the first move, you or Jensen.”

“I don’t…” you trailed off. “We had a fight. I told him I didn’t want him to be my friend anymore, he was just my boss and that was it. We couldn’t hang out at night and stuff anymore.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want him to hurt me,” you said quietly. “I didn’t fit with his life. I’m not a pretty actress. I’m not smart. I’m the younger nanny and that’s all I was gonna be until I became an older nanny and that was supposed to be my life. I didn’t ask for…”

“For what?” asked his mother, carrying over her mug and setting it down on the end table.

“I didn’t ask for him to love me. But he did and I don’t know why but I trusted him not to hurt me. It’s not fairytales and roses all day every day but I like having a best friend and I never would have submitted those books to a publisher without him encouraging me and I need him to feel better. He can’t catch a break lately and I hate seeing him upset. It makes me sick to my stomach and I really, really need him to be okay so please stop doing this. Just stop. Please. I don’t care if we have to pretend the rest of our lives but please, I can’t keep seeing him take hit after hit anymore and not being able to stop it.”

You weren’t expecting the hug from his father or to bury your face in his chest for a brief moment. His mom guided you to sit on the couch, pulling a blanket around you. She handed you the mug and you saw it was hot chocolate, your eyes darting back and forth between them.

“This isn’t about to be like a lifetime movie where you murder me, right?” you said. 

“No,” said his mom as she sat next to you. “We hurt you quite deeply today, didn’t we.”

You stared at the mug, holding it in your hands. 

“You were looking forward to meeting us,” said his dad as he sat down on your other side.

“It doesn’t matter. All I care about is him.”

“I don’t think he’d be very happy with you laying down for a semblance of normalcy for him,” he said.

“Just spit out whatever the fuck you want,” you said. You gripped the mug and shut your eyes.

“I’d like you to stop swearing please,” he said. “In exchange, maybe we can have a second chance.”

“Second chance at what?” you said dryly.

“At meeting our son’s fiance.” You lifted your head and stared at him, catching a bashful look you saw in Jensen every so often. “We understand, as well as we can, he was hurt after Danneel. We can’t fix those problems like when he would scrape his knees. We knew he was in a vulnerable position and things between the two of you seemed so fast for how in pain he was. We thought of the worst of you before knowing you and that wasn’t right of us. We were trying to protect him. But like you said, we all try to do that. So if you’ll let us, give us a second chance.”

“For him, I will give you both a second chance,” you said. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this but this sort of thing isn’t going to go away just like that, for him or for me.”

“Is there anything…” said his mom as you shook your head. “We are sorry for before. Truly.”

“I know. Trust is difficult for me on a normal day. You guys kinda tore through the safety nets I thought I had with you. I need to build them up again is all.”

“That was you that said that, people have safety nets,” she said. You raised and eyebrow and she sighed. “Jensen, months back, he told us his therapist told him that, put things in perspective.”

“I guess couple’s are kinda each other’s therapists,” you said. “Sometimes they just need to vent to each other too.”

“Before you said...has he ever been to one?” asked his dad.

“Last weekend was...intense. I went to one as a child and he talked to him for a little while, helped him put things in perspective,” you said.

“Intense? Did you fight?” she asked.

“He and JJ got stung by a scorpion. It was a little serious. We went out the next night and I made a comment and he took it a different way and he got upset thinking I thought of myself as being less in his eyes than Dee was. I know it’s not true, it’s just different. He’s been having a really great week aside from today.”

You took a sip of the hot chocolate and went back for more, drinking half the mug down. 

“We screwed up,” said his dad with a sigh, sitting back against the couch. 

“Yeah but he’ll forgive you,” you said. “This is really good Mrs. Ackles.”

“Thank you sweetie and call me Donna. I made it for Jensen. He’s always liked it when he was living here and having a bad day.”

“Why do you think he’ll forgive us?” asked his dad as Donna got up.

“Because he’s Jensen. He’s not an angry man. Angry in moments but he doesn’t hold onto anger. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. So I know he’ll forgive you. When I’m not sure of but it won’t be forever.”

“Have you two ever fought badly?” he asked.

“We’ve had a few fights. Mostly small and when we’re both tired or hungry. We had a big one a few weeks ago when he got home but we talked about why it happened and how to make sure it doesn’t again,” you said. Donna carried over a kettle and poured more hot chocolate in your mug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don't ask about fights Alan. It’s not our business. We should let them tell us what they want,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen.

“They probably should have had a big fight at least once to know if they can work through those things and it sounds like they have,” he said when he turned to you. “I know you’re probably love struck but marriage? That’s a lifetime of putting in the work.”

“Alan if I didn’t care about putting in the work I wouldn’t be down here right now. I know I don’t know everything I’m signing up for and no one really does but I know him and the kids and that’s worth the parts I have to work at.”

“You sound older than you look.”

“Age doesn’t always equal life experience,” you said.

“I suppose not,” he said. He stood and took a deep breath. “I do apologize for thinking the worst of you and not giving you a fair chance upfront.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m going to bring this up and check on him.”

“Can I ask one last thing?” asked his dad. You nodded and he looked over to Donna who gave him a short nod. “Josh said you really love him.”

“I do.”

“Do you think he loves you the same way?”

“I know he does,” you said.

“How are you so sure?”

“How are you so sure your wife loves you?” you said. “Goodnight Alan.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his mom catching up with you in the foyer where the stairs were. You gave her a tired smile and she nodded.

“If I told you something, would you keep it a secret from Jensen?” she asked.

“No,” you said with a smile. 

“I had to try,” she said. “We’re not like this by nature. Something happened he doesn’t know about when he was recovering that put us off to you. A woman. A young woman at his physical therapy.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly. She took a seat on a step and you sat beside her. “If someone tried to take advantage of him, you should have told me and him. He thinks you guys have gone nuts, no offense.”

“You’ll find with time you’d rather have your child safe and upset at you than the other way around,” she said. 

“What happened?”

“We moved down to the house for a few months to help Jensen. He went to physical therapy. A very good place. A family friend works there and got him in and he regained a lot of strength in his leg quickly because of it. There were nurses that often helped and he worked with a few regularly and they develop a relationship and all that. It’s good for morale and healing we were told. One of these girls was about your age and our family friend overheard her gossiping to a friend on the phone during a lunch break.”

“Gossiping about…” you said. “Jensen?”

“They saw an opportunity to manipulate him. He is smart, smarter than the both of us together, but he was going through the motions that first month. She made him smile a bit. She flirted with him. Our friend told us what she’d said and we realized, he could be hurt again. Taken advantage of for what he has, what he can offer. His sudden shift in mood this year, introducing you as a fiance, made us think we’d failed to protect him this time.”

“Why not tell him that?” you asked.

“And tell him he was being manipulated back then? He’s so adamant that it can’t happen to him but we know different.”

“I think you should tell him, Donna. It makes your reaction today seem not so…” you said, her head shaking.

“Ma,” you both heard. You looked over your shoulders, Jensen sat against the wall at the top of the landing. “Mom. Jerry told me why I got a new nurse when it happened. She was nice, or was pretending to be, I don’t know. But I didn’t like her. I never got manipulated and I was never going to.”

“How long-” you said, Jensen rubbing the back of his neck. “You heard everything.”

“Yup,” he said, popping his p, his dad coming over to the bottom of the stairs and staring up. “I don’t want to talk to either of you right now. Y/N, I’d like to go to bed, please.”

“Accept their apology Jensen. You can hash out the rest of this in the morning but accept that they know they were in the wrong,” you said. 

“Why should I?” he asked, cocking his head.

“We both got hurt out of their love for you. They are not monsters and I know the difference,” you said. “You know too.”

“Will you two ever look at me the same again,” said Jensen, staring at the landing. 

“Honey it was a fight. It’ll be alright,” said his mom, his head shaking.

“Ever since I woke up in the hospital, you two look at me like I’m a kid. Like I’m weak and defenseless. But I’m not. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been and this whole day could have been avoided if you treated me like your adult son, not the kid who fell off his bike and cries over a cut. I needed you two to take over, I did, I honestly did after the accident. I couldn’t take care of myself let alone the kids. But you haven’t stopped thinking I can take care of me again. I can. I do. I know I’m your kid but let me be an adult again. Trust me. Please.”

“Come here,” you said, holding out your hand. He slid down the steps and you stood up and aside, letting him get a hug from his mom and then dad. 

“We’re sorry,” said his dad.

“I know,” said Jensen quietly. “Never do something like that again. Ever.”

“We won’t,” he said. You leaned against the wall and sipped on the hot chocolate, Jensen’s nose twitching.

“That’s my cocoa,” he said, turning his head up at you.

“I just Jerry Springer’ed ya’ll. I get the cocoa. Get your own,” you said. He smiled and you gave it right back, his parents pulling off and bringing him to his feet. 

“Come here,” said his dad as his mom dragged him off towards the kitchen with the promise of hot chocolate. You stepped down until you were about his height and took a drink, licking your lips when you finished. “How do you just let that go? You were so angry before.”

“I’ve been to therapy. I have good diffusing skills,” you said. 

“Is that a joke?”

“Not really,” you said with a smile. “You made a mistake because you love him. I’m gonna make mistakes because I love him. So when I screw up, now you owe me one, deal?”

“I know it’s getting late but would you be willing to stay up a while longer, maybe find out that favorite color?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, stepping down.

“Depends on the day,” said Jensen, stepping out with a mug of his own.

“He’s right,” you said. “You okay to stay up a bit?”

He nodded and walked back to the family room, taking your hand. 

“Better?” you whispered to him.

“Yeah. Not all the way but definitely better honey.”

It was warm when you woke up the next morning. You peeled open an eye and caught Jensen laying awake, staring at his ceiling. You kicked off the blankets and he reached an arm out, pulling you to lay on his chest.

“It’s hot in here,” you mumbled, eyes shutting again.

“There’s a box covering the vent,” he said, dancing his fingers lazily over your bare arm. “It’s almost noon.”

“Seriously?” you said into his chest, nuzzling against his soft skin.

“Yeah. Sounds like they’re out back with the kids,” he said. You nodded and felt him move his fingers all over you, soft and light, absentmindedly tracing patterns every so often.

“Still upset?” you asked, his head nodding. “They’re human. They fuck up.”

“Are you angry?”

“I was. Not anymore. I kinda like ‘em actually.”

“Why would you give them a second chance?” he asked. 

“When I got adopted I didn’t like, instantly love my mom. I was scared of her at first. I don’t know, I get that you can not like someone at first and then love them unconditionally, you know? It’s weird but your opinions can change once you get to know someone.”

“I don’t do a very good job of protecting you from things,” he said, tilting his head, moving a few hairs behind your ear. You looked up at him, his fingers playing in your hair behind you. 

“Honey you went off on your parents last night. I bet you’ve never done that to them. You were trying to protect me and you did. No one has ever protected me the way you do,” you said. “Today is a new day and I’d like to get to know my new family some more.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll follow your lead.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 13 here!

[pynkhues]

any time Shiv does comfort Tom (and it's not just trying to offer sex) she always holds his head to her chest like a mother would for her child? as awkward as she still is with them, she comes off more natural with her brothers

Yeah, exactly!

I feel like it's such a testiment to how good Sarah is as Shiv that she showcases Shiv with these different degrees of vulnerability and intimacy and openness depending on the circumstances, the person, the moment. She's never, ever an open door, but sometimes, especially when someone she loves needs it, she lets them have the key for a minute before she changes the locks.

In so many ways she's been trained to divorce herself from her own emotionality and the show never draws a clean line as to the reasons for that, but I've always seen it as a survival mechanism and a form of self-defense, particularly being so frequently made the only woman in a man's world, and having a hypercritical mother who she sees as having abandoned her.

It creates this really interesting parallel, I think, because I tend to view Kendall and Tom as the two most emotional characters on the show. Of course, Tom seems to have a deeper understanding of what those emotions are than Kendall, who's always operating on varying levels of freefall, haha, but I'm fascinated by the show's choice to have Shiv as the one they both seek comfort from the most. I think there's a lot to be said about it being a statement of the emotional labour expected of women, but I also think Kendall and Tom do it for different reasons.

Sure, their relationships to her are different – Tom's married to her, and Kendall's her brother – but I think more than that, Tom, no matter how much he wants to be a part of the family, will always be an outsider.

There's a reason why Kendall could tell Shiv and Roman what he did to the waiter, even when he could tell no one else, and there's a reason they forgave him, a reason it re-forged their bond. Shiv and her brothers have something Tom won't ever have – they have a shared history steeped in trauma – and Shiv can close the door as often as she wants on them and know they'll still be on the other side, kicking at the doorjam or scratching graffiti in the paint.

It means Shiv can publish a letter saying awful things about her brother and he'll still hug her at his birthday party and it means she can crouch beside him in the dirt at their mother's wedding and, intentionally or not, with her other brother, absolve him of the worst thing he's ever done.

I think she really wanted to bring Tom in, in her own way, especially in s1 and s2, but I think she didn't know how then, and after Tom insinuated that he might leave her in the s2 finale, I think she lost the capacity to. He'd broken a fundamental, fragile trust without even realising that's what he'd done. He'd promised to be with her forever, no matter what, on the other side of that door, but then he'd told her maybe he wouldn't be. That, maybe, he'd walk away.

And I think for her, deep down, she knows he can get his comfort elsewhere. Tom has a mother who tried to protect him with the prenup and he has friends outside of the family, and a past like a hearth to return to. Shiv doesn't have that, and she knows Kendall and Roman and Connor don't have that either, and, again, she knows he could leave. She's seen women leave her father, seen Rava leave Kendall, seen love and then the absence of it, and I think she resents Tom for putting her in the position where she still wants his love.

She still feels vulnerable with Tom, even when he doesn't see her vulnerability, and she tries to give him what he wants – gets him more power, gets him closer to her father – because she's been taught love is transactional, love is a hungry mouth and an outstretched hand – and I don't think she understands that Tom wants more. That Tom maybe doesn't even really want her at all, he wants her name, her title, and a woman she isn't, someone who'll be at home when he gets home, someone who'll stand beside him (behind him, really) but never in front of him, someone warm, someone who needs him, and he can't cope with the fact that she's none of those things at all.

[ktheist]

(why) we got married | m

synopsis. they say the 7th year of your marriage is always an uphill battle - but with the existence of your prenup coming to light thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend’s slip of tongue - first it reached your and his families, and then your family’s close friends and then your family’s close friends’ friends until - almost everyone is speculating on the grounds of you and taehyung’s marriage being anything but love.

you’re not sure if you’re even going to make past the second year mark in your marriage. but is the reason you got married really as important as why you choose to stay or leave?

muses. chairman!taehyung x stewardess!reader

alternative title. as you are.

inspired by. the 1 by taylor swift

genre. arranged marriage au with a pinch of drama and angst

words. 12.5k

warnings. explicit content

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

x

in your defense, neither you nor taehyung made an elaborated plan to deceive both his family and yours with the marriage which yes, had been founded upon a contract. but that’s not the point - the point is, your father and brother never sat down with taehyung and had a man-to-man talk. and his mother never sniffed out your reason for marrying her son being his abundance of wealth. but when all comes to light, thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend who made a slip of tongue - your parents and his were the ones most vindictive about who’s digging whose gold.

and to be completely frank, you were one article away from calling up your mother and telling her that you seduced taehyung into marrying you - just so she’d stop baring her fangs at mrs. kim. these days the headlines keep blowing up your mother and mrs. kim’s completely-by-chance meeting at a five star restaurant that erupted into manic yelling and pointing fingers.

“what did you say, you-” the audio bleeps for a split second before your mother in law’s voice comes back on, “-it was your daughter that seduced my son!”

“you crazy-” the audio bleeps again, “-you better watch your mouth or i’ll-”

the remaining seconds of the video are filled with bleeps that make it hard to even understand what either woman was saying. a wave of regret floods your chest as you scroll down the words strewn out into a juicy, tea-spilling commentary on your and taehyung’s past - the writer seems to pick up the minor little details that, in hindsight, leaves a big fat question mark out in the open.

when exactly did ___ ___ and kim taehyung start dating?

the answer was never.

the two times you and taehyung were photographed together was at a cafe near your office and the other, near his penthouse wherein you were discussing the terms of the contracts by yourselves. the one near taehyung’s penthouse being the final stage where you both signed it on your ipads. to the naked eye, you probably looked like you were on a date and being young professionals, it was only a given that both of you had some sort of electronic on you at all times - even during dates.

everyone just assumed you were together and with the assumption of being together, comes the conclusion that you were deeply, madly in love. was it the way the picture caught you two looking at each other with smiles on your faces? was it it’s sister picture that stilled you in a frame where you’re looking at your ipad and taehyung looking at you with the same - possibly remaining - smile from the moment the first picture was taken? that, you will never know.

but so it goes, you started going to socials together because taehyung needed some cleansing from his... charm-filled past. he used to go to those with different partners each week, and the previous woman that went with him always ended up refusing to talk about it or boasting about her ‘relationship’ with him. that was of course, after yoo now-kim jeongyeon got married three years ago. he used to attend those socials with her for the most part.

but someway, somehow, his public record was clean of any drama.

you would know, you’ve seen the man in action with your very eyes. on your 7th social event together, son chaeyoung had marched up to you and him like a ticking time bomb, red-faced and flaring nostrils and all. you were about ready to stand your ground when taehyung softly touched your hand that was around his arm and asked if you minded if he left for some fresh air.

of course you didn’t - respectfully, you couldn’t care less what taehyung does as long as it didn’t bring a negative light to you and him and the dynasties you both carried over your shoulders. everyone had their eyes wide open and ears perked for what was to come when taehyung walked chaeyoung out to the hallway. but nothing happened, and you were left to mingle on your own until he returned, looking devilishly handsome as always and strutted up to you with an air of refined sureness.

chaeyoung didn’t come back with him but everything remained quiet - not even a dramatic “stay away from my man!” at any point of your contract. you never asked how he did it - you thought it involved money, but over time, you realized it was just kim taehyung and all the things that made those women attracted to him. and just like a flame, he’d burned the moths’ wings until they couldn’t flutter over to him anymore after your wedding.

“uh, miss, we’re here,” the driver calls, meeting your eyes through the rear-view mirror.

it takes you a few moments to close the cover of your ipad and shove it into your handbag before pulling out bills that’s worth more than your car ride, “thanks, keep the change.”

and with that, you hop out of the cab, ready to put on a facade of grace and confidence. the staff who knows you greets you with a range of emotions, some with unhinged admiration from day one, others with curiosity on what’s truly hidden beneath those darken ray bans - without a doubt, aware of the drama going on between their boss’ mother and their boss’ wife’s mother.

either way, you make sure to return each smile and greeting like you always do. red lips sewn across your face like an ever smiling doll.

it’s only once you’ve entered the elevator and luckily left to your own devices, do you let your shoulder sag, the smile downturned into a frown all the way until a ding echoes into the small compartment and a red ‘8′ flashes on top of the doors.

you don’t fail to fix the secretaries a smile, relief flooding over you at how their warm - or was it profession-required - greeting hasn’t changed even after the rumors spreading about your inevitable divorce - of course, purported by you and taehyung’s mothers.

“son, if you don’t divorce that woman right away, i-i,” and here you see for yourself, the woman who called you ‘my daughter’ with the most loving voice, stuttering into a fit of rage, “i don’t think i can face my friends anymore - that bitch jihye has been slandering our family saying you used her daughter to get hold of the company!”

mina is about to knock on the door and announce your arrival when you hold a hand up before placing an index finger to your lips. she doesn’t need to be told twice when she nods once and steps back to leave you eavesdropping on your mother in law and husband.

“that’s fair,” there isn’t even a stuttered beat in his response.

“what-”

“that’s part of the reason we got married,” he goes on, “and ___ needs some help setting up her brother with some connection so it works out - and mom, please refer to ___ and mrs. jeon by their names, ___ is still my wife and mrs. jeon is the woman who raised her.”

“y-you-” mrs. kim stutters out in disbelief just when you decide to make your presence known, hand on the door, “you ungrateful child, oh my- oh my-!” you walk into the sight of the woman falling backwards with mr. ji the kims’ lawyer stretching his arms out to catch her, shouting “madam!” while taehyung launching himself across the room, “mom!”

mrs. kim ends up hospitalized.

“it was a case of stress and overworking that should go away with a good few days’ break,” chairman kim who also opts to assume his seat as part of the hospital’s doctor and a family friend of taehyung’s, fixes you with a reassuring smile.

the stethoscope and white robe gives off a more professional vibe than the sophisticated air you see him wear at family dinners.

“that’s a relief - it’s nothing life-threatening,” the smile you return doesn’t seem to sit right with him as his eyebrows knit together and a cloud seem to loom over his face.

“it’s really not in my place but,” he pauses, probably weighing out the pros and cons of offending you with what he’s about to say - but he doesn’t need to worry too much because after today, you probably won’t be seeing each other at dinners any time soon, “me and jeongyeon,” he means his wife and taehyung’s childhood friend, “are here for you if you need to talk - i know mrs. kim can be a little unreasonable at times, but give her some time. don’t give up on her.”

you nod once, murmuring a hollow ‘thanks for that, seokjin’ before watching the man strut down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps accompanying his leave. only when you’re left with the sound of your breathing, do you finally allow chairman kim’s words to sink into the deepest depth of your heart.

it’s not an easy task to keep your heart still and unbothered by your own mother in law’s words. even now, you can still hear her embellishing her headache, back ache, joint pains and every sort of non-fatal pains she has enough to get taehyung to stay by her bedside - so he doesn’t go home. doesn’t go back to the place where you two have built for yourselves.

and yet you can’t help but agree that - “if you’d divorced her just like i told you, i wouldn’t have fallen so ill!” she sighs, just as you’re about to slide the door open.

all of a sudden, the image of the delicate woman swaying and tumbling towards the ground flashes at the back of your head and you instantly recoil, as if the door was made from fire.

the fear of worsening mrs. kim’s health at the sight of you has you backing away, choosing to wait at the seat in the hallway instead. seconds stretch into minutes and minutes into hours until you feel your body being shaken.

your eyes which you never noticed fluttered close - snap open only to gaze at the face of an angel - a concerned one at that judging from the way his eyebrows knit together. and then you’re hearing the smooth baritone of his voice. you almost pulled out your phone from your purse to ask if you could have it recorded so you could listen to it as a lullaby.

that is, until you realize the angel’s disheveled wavy hair and eyes that look like they’re well on their way to falling asleep standing.

“taehyung,” the name slips out of your mouth with a surprised gasp as you note the pristine pastel background of the vip section, body jolting to sit up from your previously slumping position.

“have you been waiting all this time?” he takes a seat next to you - and only then do you notice the unkempt mess that he is.

the first few buttons of his shirt is undone whilst it hangs over his shoulders, untucked, tie hanging loose over his chest as he drapes his blazer over his arm. the sight is almost alien, especially coming from someone who can’t even stand a crease in his shirt.

“what time is it?” you wonder, reaching for your phone while he checks the rolex on his wrist - which proves to be faster than rummaging through your bag.

“seven-thirty - you’ve been waiting here for more than five hours,” and just your luck, right as the words hit the air, your stomach decides to remind you of the meal you’re about to miss if you stay here any longer.

the heat rushing to your cheeks a second later is immeasurably hot, “o-oh, okay.”

clearing your throat, you ask, “so how was mother? seokjin already told me but i wanted to hear it from you that she’s okay.”

“you know how mom is - keeps saying her head hurts from the fall even though mr. ji managed to catch her halfway,” in any other circumstances, you and him would have found humor in how your mother in law’s overembellished diagnosis to gain attention from you and taehyung - but this time, it’s only one of you she wants that from.

it doesn’t stop you from chuckling though, “it sounds just like her - maybe i should make some ginseng chicken soup to help her get better... or beef seaweed, you know, her...”

swallowing the lump in your throat is a feat - and unfortunately, you’ve failed terribly as taehyung gather you his arms.

only then, do you realize you’re sobbing like a child, emotions running wild as everything comes crashing in like a storm - his mother, your family, the whole fucking tabloids that’s being written and ready to be posted in the next few hours and the fact that the marriage may have been a fraud, but the bonds you made along the way had been more than just business. mrs. kim was a mother to you as much as yours is to taehyung. there may have not been any love between you two but you cherish his family like he cherishes yours.

“i’m sorry - for causing a- a scene - for causing mother to f-faint-” you weep and weep.

in your crying fit, you barely notice the way his arms tighten just the tiniest bit as he sways you left to right gently, one hand on the back of your head caressing your hair as he whispers something along the lines of “it’s not your fault” and “we’ll figure it out together.”

and so for the nth time in your one year of marriage, you’re banding together to capture mrs. kim’s heart again. the first time you visited her with taehyung, she narrowed her eyes at you and demanded taehyung explain as to why he didn’t come alone through the very same eyes next second.

when the man pretended not to notice and even placed a hand on your lower back just as your steps faltered in a ‘i’m with you’ kind of way, she opted to stare out the window while you unpack the broth you made onto the table. the portion you poured into the bowl you brought was getting colder by the minute as you spoke to her, “mother, i made beef seaweed soup, it’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

the only indication that she was listening was the way her eyes scanned the bowl of broth in front of her and proceeded to keep them on the window until you had to leave.

and so goes your second and third visits being received with shoulders made of ice a kind of silence that never fails to make your stomach churn with a sort of nervousness you should have felt when you meet your future husband’s parents for the first time. but the first time you met mrs. kim, your chest was filled with nothing short confidence and woo her you did along with taehyung’s relatives and closed friends. at the time, you didn’t think what you were doing - fooling everyone into believing that you’re marrying each other for love - would come biting you in the ass.

if karma existed then this probably you getting what you deserved.

on your fouth visit, you’d come alone because taehyung had an urgent meeting to attend. mrs. kim spared you a once over just like a rabbit who voluntarily and follishly hopped into the lion’s den.

“mother,” you offer her a smile, “how are you feeling?”

when silence is the only response you get, you quickly rummage through the paper bag you’d brought with you, “have you eaten? i made chicken soup-”

“don’t bother,” her voice cuts through the air like a blade. eyes as piercing as spears, “sit down, i know taehyung has an urgent meeting - it’s the only way to get him off my back.”

you’re not quite sure what she means but you have an inkling that the reason her hostility has yet to reach its pique is because taehyung has been giving her subtle looks to ‘mom, be nice to my wife’.

with a nod and a smile that seems to be glued to your face, you ask, “how was the bibimbap yesterday?”

though she didn’t cut you off, her response doesn’t exactly shed hope to your efforts being paid off when she dismissively says, “i gave it to mr. ji.”

the immediate ‘oh’ that tumbles out of your mouth is purely reflexive even though you know she’s never touched the meals you packed for her. but having her admit it is a different kind of heartbreak.

“i see,” is all you can say as you feel tears prick your waterline, a lump in your throat.

“this,” she places a folder of documents she seems to have ready by her bedside into your hands and without any explanation, sends you off with, “if you have any conscience at all, you’d sign these papers and stay out of our lives.  even though i never read the contract but i’m sure a smart woman such as yourself would’ve thought to include the alimony as well - you understand what i’m saying right?”

you tried to say something - anything but at that point, the look in her eye already paints a picture of you clinging onto taehyung’s wealth. and yet you still tried, “m-mother, i-...”

but no words come out and as though her point had been proven, she’d huffed out a sigh and tuned you out like she always did on your previous visits.

so you walked down the hallway with shades covering your tear stained eyes and a skip to your step that oh-so-badly wishes to break into an unceremonious run to a place where nobody knows you. where nobody looks at you with rounded eyes for the briefest moment that easily translates to mrs. kim ___, wife of kadore’s chairman who married her husband for money.

but all you can afford to do is keep your head up until you reached the bathroom door, check each stall one by one to make sure no one’s inside before you finally set down the document and your handbag on the sink. the first sob hits the air as soon as you see the woman in the reflection’s reddening eyes and smudged makeup.

it takes you several breath-holding, eyes-shutting and a couple more sobs breaking through the cracks of your walls before you can finally pat some powder onto the patch of skin under your eyes and on your cheeks where most of the damage was done. by the time you’re back in the hallway with shades darker than the night sky, you find your feet melting and becoming one with the floor at the sight of a man with jet black hair standing at the reception.

and almost as though sensing the heat of your gaze through your ray bans, the man turns around to reveal a pair of doe brown eyes and the smile you’re so used to seeing now missing in action and replaced with a straight line.

“jungkook...”

“how’d you know i’d be here?” you start once you’ve both placed an order for your drinks at the counter.

“how long are you going to keep doing this?” instead of answering your question with a real answer, jungkook heaves out a sigh, eyebrows knitting together in vexation as he fixes you with one of those ‘i’m not telling mom and dad but this is our problem now’ kind of look.

“how ever long it takes,” is all you say, reverting your gaze to the smooth surface of the table.

“are those the divorce papers?” you refuse to look at him but you know he’s burning holes inside the beige colored folder sitting underneath your handbag on the seat between you and him.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, shoulders squared as you meet his eyes through your shades, “i haven’t opened it yet.”

but jungkook being jungkook, he takes that as a bare affirmation, choosing to interrogate you on a different topic, “have you seen what people have been saying about you?"

“i don’t really care about what people say,” is all you have to offer.

“you haven’t,” he nods in conclusion, “they’re saying you can’t have enough of your husband’s money... they’re saying you’re coming here everyday to grovel over his mother’s feet to let you stay married - that’s how i know you’d be here. and judging from the looks of it, they’re not too far off.”

it takes you a good solid minute to stomach the new found information. you haven’t been checking social media because of those same exact malicious comments but that was just the beginning of a downward spiral of your reputation - you never thought your efforts and hard work of burning your fingers on hot stoves and redoing dishes to get a perfect one would be met with an assumption of groveling over mrs. kim’s feet all for your husband’s money.

“god, i need a smoke,” jungkook huffs, receiving a look from the waiter that’s setting your drinks down. only after she’s gone does he present you with another set of questions. “was he the one that paid off dad’s debts? all of them? even the loan sharks?”

“that...” you nod once, failing to keep your head high as you twirl the straw of your frappe around but don’t even take a sip, “and the money i said i had saved up and lent you to start your company,” you quickly add,“- but taehyung doesn’t care about that - he wouldn’t accept it even if you wanted to pay him back twice the amount.”

“then why are you...” it’s the way his voice breaks at the end that makes you look up only to see a man whose eyes are a little sunken and cheeks a little hollow - almost as if he hasn’t been sleeping nor eating well because of his foolish sister, “why are you letting that woman trample all over you like this? wouldn’t it be easier to just get a divorce-”

“that woman is my mother in law, jungkook. at least, practice the same level of respect you’ve been preaching about,” you speak over him - it’s funny how taehyung once stood up against the same woman you’re standing up for, for you.

when all that follows is silence, you go on. this time, in a much demurred tone, “and it’s not about letting myself get trampled over... if mom found out you lied about something and she’s acting like mother does because she’s hurt, would you just go on with your life like nothing happened?”

it takes a moment for him to register what you said before taking on a much less hostile tone though still just as firm, “___, this is your life... i don’t know what kind of ‘happy family’ delusion you’ve been living in but i’m willing to bet all my money that it’s not taehyung that gave you those papers to sign and made you cry in the bathroom stall for thirty minutes-” he throws you look, “yeah, i saw you go into the washroom after coming out of her room. i was gonna call you but you looked like you had to take a huge dump so i waited but we know that’s not the case now.”

silence lapses between you for the umpteenth time before you stubbornly announce, “i could’ve been taking a dump - you don’t know.”

the sight of jungkook’s jaw dropping and hitting the ground is laughable, if not for the fact that he’s shaking his head five seconds later. vexed. irritated, “this is getting ridiculous - we’re going home. now.”

and he doesn’t mean the penthouse that you and taehyung shares.

shooting up, his hand grasps your wrist and he would have dragged you all the way to the car if you hadn’t protested.

“jungkook, no - i’m not going anywhere,” pulling your hand back, you stand a good one head shorter in front of your brother which doesn’t do much for your cause.

“___, if not for you then do it for mom and dad - they’re getting too old to be worrying about their one and only daughter’s marriage prospect,” he tries to coax, knowing full well your heart would wither like a flower at the mention of your parents worrisome nature - especially when your business is out in the open no matter how hard you try to hide it, “and you haven’t been answering their calls either.”

“i know, i just-” before you can even finish your sentence, a flash of garnet and bridal pink catches your eyes.

“____... jungkook, i didn’t think you’d be in korea. how are you?” taehyung’s warm baritone is laced with confusion as he stares at your brother and then at you for a sort of explanation but before you can even open your mouth, jungkook’s already has his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, “yeah, well someone’s gotta clean up the mess you started. ___’s coming back home with me - back to her real home.”

“i’m not - stop saying that and let me go,” you tug on your wrist only to wince at the pressure of his grasp, “jungkook, you’re hurting me!”

“hey, let my wife go,” taehyung takes a peaceful step forward, “we can talk ab-”

“oh no,” the laugh tumbling out of jungkook’s mouth drips with malice, “no, see, you lost your knight in shining armor privilege after you quite literally lied to our faces about how you’ll take care of my sister until ‘death do you apart’ when all it took was mommy dearest pretending to get sick while everyone labels my sister a gold-digging wh-”

you taking a step forward with a balled fist, is completely instinctive and you would say taehyung prancing towards the dark haired man with a fist that actually hits the mark, was also instinct-driven. except that he probably has better aim and his punches hurt more than yours ever would.

the first one, you admit was satisfying but when your brother ends up on the ground with your husband throwing blow after blow, you have no choice but to intervene.

“taehyung, stop!” the shriek that echoes against the walls almost burst your eardrums. you would have believed it to be mrs. kim if not for the fact that she’s nowhere in sight and you’re the one with your hands grasping onto your husband’s arms, trying to hold him back from sending blow after blow onto your brother’s half-conscious face.

“taehyung, don’t stop,” you frown, taking a seat next to him while swiping the ice bag off his lap before gently pressing it to his darkened jawline, “seokjin said to keep the ice on the bruise for at least an hour.”

“ahhh - ow - ow-!” the man whines, eyes screwed shut as his grits his teeth together but doesn’t recoil from your touch.

“maybe you should’ve thought twice about throwing a punch at a trained boxer,” you shake your head, lips curling into an inevitable smile.

after taehyung’s had a round of punches in, jungkook managed to flip them over so that he’s the one pinning the elder man down. the events that unfolded after that were the least bit pretty. the nurses and doctors attending nearby patients rushed to the two struggling men and then there’s you, shifting the shouting to your brother to “god damn it, jungkook! stop being a dick!”

it took five men - doctors and just-arrived guards alike - to pry your brother off your husband who still tried to get a punch in and was held back by seokjin who finally arrived at the scenes with half a mind to knock the both of them out as he calmly orders for jungkook to be dragged into one of those empty rooms akin to the one mrs. kim is staying at.

because taehyung was the one who started the fight, seokjin decided that an ice pack would do for the taller man whilst he treats jungkook and orders the other doctors to go back to their post.

picking up the mixture of garnet and bridal pink roses, he stares at their wilted petals for the longest moment, face painted with dejection. they must have been specifically ordered for mrs. kim-

“these are for you,” your train of thoughts halts in its track at taehyung’s words. his hand levitating midair as though unsure of whether to hand the bouquet to you or toss them away, “or were,” then he captures your gaze and you don’t think you can ever find your way out of the maze he’s able to hold you captive in with just his eyes, “you deserve fresh flowers specifically plucked from its stalk - you deserve a whole garden, actually-”

“taehyung,” your free hand covers his as if to say, “they’re lovely, thank you.” placing the ice pack down, you cup both hands around the flowers, bringing them to your nose, “and they smell wonderful - i love pink roses.”

“i know,” the tiniest smile peeks from his lips, “you told me that.”

“i did?” you blink, surprised.

“at our wedding reception, you got a little tipsy and started sobbing because the roses were blush pink and not bridal pink,” the sound of his chuckles drums in your ears like hymns just like it did a year ago.

back when you were decked in an elegant off shoulder white gown after changing out of your wedding dress. you’d stood in the sidelines while your families and friends danced to their hearts’ content to the sound of the music. white champagne in your hand, the background beginning to turn fuzzy and your thoughts began to get louder.

it didn’t help that the object of your frustrations was smack dab covering every inch of the vicinity from the gargantuan rose covered backdrop, to the tiny vases in every single table.

the sob hits the air like the first raindrop. you had to clasp your hand to your mouth as if you were about to cough to hide your mouth stretching into your crying mouth - you don’t know how to explain it but your lips tend to morph into an unshapely sight whenever you cry and covering it when you feel the waterworks coming has always been second nature. as for the tears - they were concealable because the lights were dim enough.

but then there was someone next to you - he just popped up out of nowhere really and because you were standing in the darkest corner, you couldn’t pick out any defining features besides his height but you didn’t have much time to ponder on that as his question fills your eardrums, “so, how does saying goodbye to the bachelorette life feels like?”

“it’s terrible,” you’d wept some more and he shifted on his feet slightly, as though noticing the tear in your voice but luckily for him, he didn’t even have to ask because you were spilling your innermost thoughts out loud, “they- they gave me blush pink and garnet roses- i want bridal pink and garnet roses.”

“oh,” distinctively rang in your ears among the sound of instruments and joyful laughter.

then comes another input, “i didn’t know they messed up your request,” and you didn’t know why he’d sounded like he was about to murder someone.

“yeah and,” you sniffle, “- and i didn’t wanna say anything because- because i don’t wanna be that bratty bride who picks on every little detail.”

that morning, you woke up to a box full of roses and they were the lightest shade of pink. taehyung was already awake and offered to ring up breakfast for the both of you after he’d bid you a good morning and a “something came in for you.”

the gifts were prearranged to be sent to the penthouse instead of your suite but then again, there were chocolates and champagne bottles that made past the hotel doors because of its edible nature - the roses too... their fleeting livelihood seemed like you’d enjoy them better in your hotel room than a week later after you’d come back from your honeymoon.

the card didn’t even leave initials but had ‘roses for a rose’ playfully written in cursive black ink. your heart blooms a garden but your head is what makes you search for your newly wed husband, only to see him looking at you with a tender smile - one that you thought manifested because of your own involuntary smile when you’d read the note.

“i don’t think these are for us,” you could feel the frown setting into your features, causing taehyung’s own brows to furrow.

“i think these are for... me,” and so you told a tale of a woman with ambitions rather than stars in her eyes, who felt a compulsion to at least tell the truth to her husband and the stranger whom she met at her wedding. of course, omitting the teary eyed part and the blush and bridal pink roses part.

taehyung had easily chuckled while the staff set down plates of delicacies on the round meant-for-two-people-on-a-honeymoon table, saying, “he has fine taste - they’re from halls & tara,” after the staff left.

it didn’t occur to you that the h&t initials on the top right corner of the card stood for the most well known florist in seoul until he’d pointed it out, which could only mean he’d been suspicious enough to take longer than a glance at the flowers.

“do you mind if i keep them? at least, until they’re not as fresh anymore.” you quickly added the last part.

“you can keep them in a vase and have them live longer... why? are they not the shade of pink you wanted?” he blinked once, hand halting midair as he was about to take a mouthful of pancakes.

“well- no, they’re perfect actually - i love them,” you almost stutter in your haste to explain while trying to be casual about how devastated you would be if- “it’s just that... i really didn’t know him or who he was- but he obviously knew me because it’s hard not to know the lady of the day- i’m not breaching any terms-”

it’s the way the trickles of laughter filling the otherwise silent room that got you to clamp your mouth shut. the way kim taehyung looked so ethereal and majestic in the pristine black and white setting of the room.

“i don’t mind,” he’d clarified a moment later, eyes twinkling with the remnants of laughter, “i understand why he’d want to desperately send you these if only to see you smile softly like you did - you look beautiful when you smile, by the way.”

the compliment had caught you off guard and your heart might or might not have somersaulted but if there’s anything seven years of becoming a stewardess has taught you, it was to always prepare an adequate response to every situation - and at that time, kim taehyung was infamous for his quick wits and reputation with the ladies. of course, words sweet as honey would come easy for him.

“thank you,” and so were the words of gratitude on your part as you schooled a smile and dug into the pancakes your husband made.

but sitting on the black leather couch, holding onto a similar colored bouquet, you can’t help but blurt out, “that was you? i was bawling my eyes out because of some mismanagement to my husband who didn’t even recognize?” something between a disbelieving scoff and an irony-induced laugh escapes your mouth, “why didn’t you tell me?”

taehyung’s shoulder line shakes as he shrugs, hand going up to scratch the back of his head as he drops his gaze, as if searching for the answer only to look back up into your eyes with a, “i didn’t think you’d be as happy if you knew it was me,” his gaze falters, like a bud of fear blooming behind his irises,

“why wouldn’t i be?” you blink once, not quite understanding where he’s coming from.

that is, until a small smile slips onto his lips and it’s heartbreaking to witness and even more devastating to know you’re in no place to let your arms gather him into a hug like you wish. to kiss his forehead until his worries disappear.

he twines his fingers with yours, thumbing the diamond on your fourth finger, “i’m sorry that i took away your choice to marry for love - that’s a bit corny isn’t it?” he scrunches his nose and you can’t help but giggle, “it’s not just some short term contract since we both agreed divorce is never in the equation,” neither of you believe in tainting the sanctity of marriage - no matter what cause it was founded upon - with separation, “but god, the things you’re going through right now - i promise i’ll make things right.”

taehyung’s eyes tend to appear in different shades along with his emotions - though you know it’s most probably the lighting. dark brown is for when he’s scrutinizing the hollow smiles and empty compliments he gets at functions. but sometimes you find yourself catching hazel.

like right now, as they capture yours and look at you as if you’re the only one he sees.

“taehyung...” you thought you knew what you wanted to say when you said his name but as you get lost in the midnight dessert of his eyes, you’re not sure if you can even muster so much as a squeak without falling apart.

and that’s when a knock reverberates into the air like thunder, forcing you to jolt away from the man until no part of you is touching any part of him.

“hey,” a somber voice greets as jungkook leans against the doorframe, “so they fixed me up and the chairman wants me gone in,” he looks down at his wrist, “two minutes and fifty-three seconds.”

blinking away the remnants of the emotions away, you stand up, giving the man a once over. his button up is marred with a trickle of deep red a few inches over his chest, hair matted and face sporting different stages of bruising. the bleeding’s stopped for the most part.

“you’ve definitely seen better days,” you announce, walking around the couch to get to where the man is rolling his eyes at.

“sorry for calling you the w-word,” that’s definitely wasn’t what you were expecting which prompts the belated, almost suspicion induced,“...okay.”

“i did that because i needed to confirm something,” he goes on, eyes flitting over your shoulder where you know your husband is staring right back, burning holes inside your brother’s head before he looks back at you, taking a full 180 in attiude, “and don’t worry about mom and dad - i’ll take care of them.”

it takes you a moment to digest his proclamation, all the whilst hyperly aware of the hand that makes its way on your lower back as a familiar dior scent fills your senses, “so you’re not gonna drag me home?” as though disbelieving the words that came out of your mouth, you add, “that’s all it takes? a few punches to the face?”

the twitch of his eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by you. nor does the deep breath he forces himself to take at the blatant insult and insinuation of your future boxing lessons to which he warns, “don’t get any crazy ideas,” then he turns to the man next to you, “i let you hit me - let’s get that out of the way first.”

and before either you or taehyung manage to get a word in, jungkook hand comes flying to your forehead, a loud sound of skin smacking against skin echoing throughout the room as you tumble backwards with an audible “ow- hey!”, barely noticing the much larger hand that’s covering yours. inspecting the patch of skin where jungkook just flicked.

without even an apology for the uncalled for assault, he nods at something over your head, probably taehyung, “you take care of my sister, you hear me? cause there won’t be a second time.”

and then he’s gone like the wind - you would have tracked down that wind and give him a taste of his own medicine like you did when you were children. you’d jump on his back and attempt to bite a chunk of his head if your nannies didn’t pull you apart  - but right now, you couldn’t escape taehyung’s hand on your waist even if you wanted to.

“let me see,” he instructs, gently coaxing your hand to unclasp the patch of skin on your forehead so he could softly blow on it.

you stay like that, standing at the doorway with your bodies too close and taehyung refusing to unhand you until your cheeks are replaced with a different kind of heat than the anger you felt for your god forsaken brother.

“god he’s an ass - you should’ve messed up his face more,” you huff, and you don’t know why - maybe it’s the way you stomp your foot, maybe it’s the way your cheeks tend to puff when you’re feeling vindictive or maybe it’s a mystery locked in taehyung’s head that you’ll never know but his chuckles sound like hymns in your ears.

and you thought that was the end of the electrified sensation on your skin where his touch lingers until you feel a pair of the softest lips on your forehead, right where the flick was supposed to throb. a grinning taehyung looking back at you as if asking, “my nanny used to do this to me when i bump my knee against a furniture...” a flash of worry blooms in his eyes for the briefest moment before he voices his concerns, “hope the magic still works.

the sight is heartwarming. endearing even. and you can’t help smile, cheeks hot, “it does - it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

and just as you thought he’s about to release you from the torment of having your heart skip multiple beats at a time and step back, he presses another peck on your forehead. a smile gracing his features, “another one for good measure.”

it’s a surprise your legs are still holding you up with how jelly-like they’ve become.

“th-thank you.”

mrs. kim discharged herself a week after the fight but not without standing in front of the hospital with her frilly fur coat and gucci handbag while she looks at the camera and consequently straight into the screen, “i have yet received a publicly apology for what jeon jungkook did to mine by the jeons. my taehyung couldn’t even kill a fly, let alone start a fist fight-” she shivers uncontrollably as though overcome with chills, “such a barbaric, uncivilized act can only come from-”

“you’re watching that?” a smooth baritone fills the room as a figure struts in beige slacks and oversized creme sweater, “again?”

he sits on the edge the backrest of the couch, looking down at you with an expression that makes your stomach churn. with butterflies or guilt for breaking your promise to stop checking out these articles, you don’t know.

“sorry,” you mumble, placing the ipad down a few inches from your feet as you bring your legs up against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, “worrying about how the press twists mother’s words comes from the plentiful of time i have on my hands after being sacked, i guess.”

it’s been a week since you’ve received your new schedule. to which you received a call right after to head to the headquarters in the heart of seoul only to be told that-

“___, you gotta understand, this whole fiasco going on with your family... it’s giving the airline a bad rep,” mr. bang leaned back against his recliner, his eyes hiding behind the beam of his glasses, “people are leaving bad reviews on the website that has absolutely nothing to do with our services but has everything to do with you and your husband.”

he meant the growing dissatisfaction upon the revelation of the artificiality of you and taehyung’s marriage.

nobody’s caught jungkook and taehyung in a video but there’d been witnesses and ‘sources’ affirming the two getting into a fistfight at the hospital. and so another record has been made in your long list of family drama.

“sir, please,” you could feel your eyebrows joining together from the sheer frustration and reality anchoring into the pit of your stomach, “i’ve been working for korean air -for seven years now- check my reconds,” hope blooms in your chest as you suggest the idea to your superior, “i’ve never been late, never had a customer complain about me, never made any mistakes prior to this-”

“it doesn’t matter what you did before this, ___,” he cut you off, voice heavy with emphasis.

but you weren’t backing out that easy, “please, it’s not fair to lay me off for something i have zero control in.”

at your wording, the man physically flinched, almost as though struck by a spear before he shook his head, denying your claims.

“you’re not fired,” he corrected, “you’re on paid leave... until everything calms down.”

it took everything in you not to let the frown slip onto your face. first it’s paid leave and then it a one month notice before they officially sack you - you’ve seen how this played out one too many times.

so you smiled, “with all due respect, mr. bang, how long is ‘until everything calms down’?”

the man’s shoulder line jolted as he shrugged, lower lip jutted out in a nonchalant nature, “that depends on how you choose to solve it, ___... i assume you are working on a solution, yes?”

it was a trick question. if you answered the affirmative, it’d be admitting what mrs. kim and almost everyone have been demanding - a divorce. if you answered no, then you’re as good as jobless.

“my husband and i are working on it,”  was all you say.

when taehyung found out later that night - he was livid. he was a phone call away from calling up mr. ji to sue the airline for discrimination. it took you stealing his phone away and running around the penthouse until you made him promise that he’d listen to you first.

he did, and you’d wanted to wait it out and see because, “there isn’t any damage to build our ground on anyway because i’m not fired yet.”

“well, dinner’s ready ” taehyung’s soft as silk voice tears you apart from your memroies, hand levitating midair until you take it, hoisting yourself up.

taehyung pushes himself off the couch, walking on the other side with your hand in his. it’s comical but endearing all at once and you giggle at how neither of you are willing to let the other go even though you’ll have to once you reach the four-people dining table.

“thank you,” you say as you lower yourself on the seat while he pushes the chair in for you.

home cooked meals have become a norm for the both of you ever since that day taehyung punched jungkook in the face. at first, you insisted that you should be the one cooking since he was injured but he stayed with you in the kitchen and you talked about your day and reminisced about your childhood and how you similarly had nannies that forbade you from coming into the kitchen.

then there was the peck on the top of your forehead he started doing a few days ago after you were sat and before he went around the table to get to his seat that’s across from you.

“did you go shopping today?” he asks in between cutting up the steak which he stole a whole plate from you into mini slices.

“yeah, with hwasa,” you nod - the woman had been all too delighted to see you after mismatched schedules and ghostly texts because of life and work getting in the way.

“the friend from high school?” taehyung surprises you yet again as he places your plate back in front of you, this time with the pieces all cut into edible bites. you’ve never mentioned hwasa to him - but it’s not a lie that she’s your closest friend from high school who got accepted into the same training programme as you at the beginning of your career.

“thank you-” you shoot him a smile before picking up the fork and knife, “and yeah, that’s her. we haven’t seen each other for months so we kind of went a little crazy with the dresses.”

he doesn’t look up when he speaks his next words which is why you have a trouble digesting them as you involuntarily blurt out a, “sorry- what?”

“the dresses you bought,” he reiterates, an amused smile on his lips - possibly because of your almost-choked state, “- can i see them?”

“oh,” clear your throat once, sipping down the red wine before chuckling nervously, “hwasa bought dresses - didn’t.”

taehyung hums, head tilting to the side as though trying to capture your avoidant gaze, “then put on whatever you bought that i saw lying on your bed - the door was open when i passed your room.”

at that moment, to say your heart quite literally crash against the floor, would be an understatement. it takes you a minute to gather yourself, another to force out a laugh as you attempt to brush the thought of taehyung seeing the black and red laces from savage x fenty hwasa adamantly insited you get after a story time on why you decided to get married to how something has definitely shifted between you and taehyung.

but no amount of gushing and squealing about made up scenarios brewing from hwasa’s little head could prepare you for what’s happening right at this moment.

“oh those?” a chuckle, “those are aren’t even worth showing.”

and just as you thought he’ll let the matter go like he would when you dismissively mention something that he inquired about, taehyung takes a full 180, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you don’t dare delve into, “that’s for me to decide,” he takes a sip of the wine, pushing his chair back as he stands up, “i’m done,” with that, he places his plate down where geom, your mixed breen papillion and silky terrier shouts out an appreciative woof at the pleasant surprise.

patting the canine briefly, he turns to you, those clouded eyes seeping into your soul, “put them on - i’ll be waiting in my room.”

his footsteps echo against the walls as he ascends the stairs and disappears into the hallway where his room lies across from yours. it is a whole solid minute later, once you hear the door of his room click shut, that you make a beeline for the couch where your phone lies lonely.

dialing up the only person you know you can hold accountable for, you quite literally scream at the ‘hell-’ with a “hwasa, he wants me to put the lingerie on and show him!”

while your voice drips with dread, the other woman, choosing to be willfully oblivious, screams into your ears, “oh my god - oh my god. then what are you doing calling me?! go put them on!”

and that’s how you end up holding in a breath while deliberately repeating hwasa’s not so helpful pep talk of ‘you’re the hottest’ and ‘kim taehyung will be wrapped around your fingers by the end of the night!’

“but it’s been over a year - i’m not sure if i even know how to moan!” you’d protested while pull the strap of the garter around your thigh.

that was half an hour ago.

now, you’re debating on whether to knock like you would have before you started cuddling into the other while watching tv. but before that, you’d never did anything together unless it was family dinners and gatherings.

so you opt for pushing down the handle. the sharp ‘click’ being the only announcement of your entrance. taehyung’s walls are a deep shade of maroon almost black with the lights on its lowest setting. the sound of music playing in the background barely registers in your mind as you focus your attention to the figure that’s pushing himself up from his laying down position.

you resist the temptation to run and hide under the comfort your covers - an opposed response compared to your confident stride, placing one foot after the other until you stand a good two feet away from the bed and taehyung.

“what do you think?” the smile brandished over your face is nothing like your racing heart whlist you do a little twirl- but then again, you’ve always been such an actress.

“if the world were made of diamonds, i’d choose the rose before me... because you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid eyes on,” you wonder how he doesn’t even blink as those words pour out of his mouth, hand finding its way in the dip of your waist. staring. admiring.

“always the charmer,” you want to curse yourself for the unoriginal come back yet taehyung doesn’t seem to notice as he lets you push him to the bed whilst his eyes undress what little piece of clothing you have on as you crawl on top of him.

your toes curl at the sound of taehyung’s excruciatingly slow exhalation - almost as though he intends for it to caress your ears and seep into your pores before settling into the pit of your core.

the sharp charm of dior fills your senses as you place kisses on his neck, tucking his flesh between your teeth ever so gently, not expecting the delectable surprise that slips out of his mouth.

who would have thought kim taehyung was a moaner?

the giggle that trickles out of your mouth is blamelessly involuntary but catches his attention nonetheless, “what?”

“oh, nothing,” you nibble on his earlobe before whispering into his ears, “just thinking of how cute you’ll look moaning for me.”

and you’ve easily add to the long list of things you won’t forgive yourself in the morning. yet you still caress his growing size through his pants, giggling when the delicious sound hits the air for the second time.

“take it out,” he whimpers after one too many teases, “please.”

“only because you said please,” the way his chin tilts to follow your lips after you pecked them doesn’t go unnoticed by you but you clasp your hand against his chest, pinning him down with a shake of your head “uh-uh, you get up when i tell you to.”

the excruciating ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips is what truly lights up the flame in the pit of your stomach. you watch as his hand goes up to run through his hair in a sexually frustrated nature but doesn’t attempt to push himself up after that.

it only takes a few pumps for the clear fluid of precum to trickle over your hand, letting you smear all over his hardened dick and causing it to glisten underneath the luminescence of the room.

sparks shoot through your core and strike your heart into an erratic rhythm when you lower yourself over him, holding the slit of the black lace undergarment apart until he’s hitting every delicious inch inside of you.

you’ve barely even started to move when you break out into a cry, falling into his arms like a puppet whose strings got cut off. the arms around you are gentle as they hold you against him until you’ve come down from your high.

by the time you push yourself up, your knees are still trembling yet you nod when he cups your cheeks and forces you to look into those concern filled eyes, “are you good?”

“i’m fine,” the sniffle is probably the last thing you need to convince him, “i lost myself for a moment.”

this time, it’s his turn to chuckle, lips curling into a smirk, “it’s completely understandable to admit that you couldn’t hold out for more than a minute because i stretched you out so good.”

you want to protest - want to gain back the control you lost when he hit that sweet spot not even, yes, as he says, a minute into taking him in. but one single thrust right against that same exact spot and you’re whimpering in utter submission and devotion.

“that’s what i thought,” that damned smirk is the last thing you see before you succumb to his every wishes and command until you find yourself with a strong arm banded over your stomach, another arm reaching for a pillow and puffing it up before you feel yourself being gently lowered face flushed into it - the smallest gesture of tenderness that you didn’t expect to witness when you decided to tease him in the beginning.

the yelp when taehyung’s hands slip under the strap of the garter, doesn’t even manage to form fully when a moan replaces it as he yanks the garter and consequently, your ass against him, forcing you to swallow his entire length in one stroke.

“god, you’re so big,” if you were a little sober and a whole lot more conscious, you would have added that into the list of things you said that you would cringe at in the morning.

but you’re already one orgasm down in the foreseeable long list of orgasms that kim taehyung promises you as he sinks into you, moaning out your name like a holy mantra.

“i know you love it,” he agrees oh so innocently for someone who’s about to thrust into you like a godless being.

five strokes in and you’re cursing and screaming out in pleasure, hands gripping onto the duvet for dear life as you feel you convulse into a state of toe-curling euphoria. the way taehyung stops moving and trails down butterfly kisses down your back until the tensed muscles in your lower abdomen simmers down into pleasured twitches, doesn’t go by you.

“you can move now,” another sniffle, but this one has completely and irrevocably succumbed to your rawest desires.

it’s the soft chuckle and the one last peck on your left shoulder blade that has your heart stuttering. ungodly opposite to the way he moves his hips as he thrusts into you without so much as a warning - your last two orgasms were just preambles. ones out of the many that night that has you writhing and moaning in pleasure. some of which were incited by sides of you, you didn’t know existed.

the last thing you recall is taehyung gathering you in his arms like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you even in his sleep now that he’s had a taste. it’s endearing and daunting all at once. because for the first time since your marriage, you’re afraid of losing him.

a few days after that, you’re tying away on your macbook when taehyung comes home looking less like the man you knew. his hair, disheveled from having run his hand through them more than his hair gel allows. his eyes, carrying a sort of weight that latches onto him like parasites - or maybe that’s just the papparazzo that you noticed have been following you around. their numbers have decreased considerably after the rumor of taehyung hiring a team of lawyers which was no rumor at all.

it was the morning after you woke up with tingly legs barely able to function like it should and muscles sore but a sort of fullness in your chest when you noticed the man whose arms are wraped around you like a protective cocoon as he faintly snored away.

then came the muted sound of your phone from the other side of the hallway where your room door beckons you into its domain. it wasn’t as obnoxiously loud since it was at least twenty feet away and you would have ignored it and gone back to bed if not for the short interval signaling the person calling had finally reached the mailbox or hung up on their own. that was, before they hit call for the second time.

slipping out of taehyung’s arms, you trudged to your room with half a mind to give whoever this caller is a piece of your mind - god’s sake, the flashy red digits on your alarm clock stares at you at 5:23 in the morning.

“this better be good, hwasa or i swear-” before you can even finish the woman is already screaming into your ear like she’s being chased by an axe murderer.

“oh my god, oh my god - have you seen the news?!” except no woman chased by a murderer would sound this exhilarated, she went on before you could even get a “no one in their right mind would be checking the news at ass crack-” out.

“oh shoot, it’s still 5 something in korea, isn’t it?” she gasped - if you weren’t on paid leave, you’d be in hong kong, probably sharing rooms and getting tipsy in some club there, “but anyway, kadore’s chairman is suing insight, pullbbang and other websites for slander!” she shrieked.

"what?” you could feel the muscles on your face pulling into a contorted confusion but

after hanging up and telling hwasa you were going to look into the matter some more, you’d come up with multiple articles stating a similar fact as your overly enthusiastic best friend did. still in denial, you’d confronted your husband about it- he was still sleeping soundly when you strutted in and shook him up to which he confessed, eyes droopy and face puffy. the sight was so foreign to you because you were used to seeing him fresh and suited up but you’d found yourself making a little space in your heart for barely-just-woken-up-taehyung to reside in.

first came anger - you didn’t ask for him to do this, “what would everyone think if i went to you crying about a little bit of criticism for something i did do?” then came confusion because what exactly did you do that was so horrendously heineous to warrant these websites to write such malicious statements about you?

taehyung had seen every flash of emotions that pooled in your eyes and tugged on your fingers - you weren’t sure if he’d meant it but it successfully pulled you from drowning in your own thoughts, “i told you i’d make things right - these people won’t be able to say another word about you unless it’s the truth- that you’re a hardworking, amazing woman who deserves everything she has and yes,” he fixed you the most tender, sleepy smile “that includes the money i make - what’s the point of working if i can’t even provide my wife with the best?”

taehyung tosses the beige tuxedo onto the handrest of the couch adjacent to where you’re sitting with one leg up in nothing but a loose fitted sweater that hangs off your left shoulder. the half empty wine glass lies untouched on the coffee table since you’d put it down.

with a thump, he sinks himself into the leather material of the couch, hands cupping his face, as though if he rubs it hard enough, the deadset frown would go away.

before you know it, you’re padding over to the couch he’s on, hands finding their ways onto his shoulders, massaging the noticeable tension in his muscles until a grateful sigh slips out of his mouth, hand guiding your own to his lips where he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

only when you go around to take the spot next to him, hand smoothing out his hair, do you finally say, “is it the board again?”

mina has been keeping you updated on the turbulence that was caused by your fraudulent marriage being exposed. the chairman seat became taehyung by default when he got married as per his father’s will. but the board members have been vocal about abrogating his rights to succeeding kadore.

“there’s talk about votes demoting me to director,” he’s never sound so fragile - in taehyung’s long list of fluctuating interest from women and men to art and sculptures and to yatches and sports cars, kadore is probably the only thing he’s ever taken seriously.

you would know - seeing him decked in armani with soft wavy hair contrasting his strong features, weren’t your only reason for accepting his proposal of marriage. it had more to do with the way he spoke about the company. in a dimly lit room just like now, with a wine glass in his hand and the cityscape underneath that gave an illusion of stilled fireflies scattered all across the city, taehyung had spoken of his unforgivable regrets. the deals he’d let pass by. the merges he’d settled with instead of aiming higher. the brands he didn’t reach out to.

those regrets birthed fears and those fears were what made him even entertain the notion of a beneficial marriage.

or as the board likes to call it, an atrociously wickedly schemed marriage.

“they won’t have a ground to depose you to a director’s position if they can’t provide a solid reason,” you say and he blinks, clueless, hopeless.

it’s almost as if you’re facing a whole different man.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m talking about us doing what we do best,” you fix him a smile - one that probably needs a little convincing and grounding but a smile nonetheless, “we show them that the kims aren’t to be messed with,” you pause, letting the silence settle into brimming suspense before finally saying, “it’s been awhile since we’ve made a public appearance together, hasn’t it? how does lunch sound like?”

and so goes your multiple appearances in the most top notch restaurant together. the lack of chauffeur wasn’t intentional but helpful nonetheless to prove that the chairman was hopeless and irrevocably mad for his wife that he’d drive all the way to wherever she was to pick her up and then drive them to the designated restaurant instead of the convenience of meeting at said restaurant from wherever you both were prior to that.

then there was the hand holding, hip grabbing and not going a minute without smiling and giggling about what the other said. to outsiders, it would have looked as if things hadn’t been all that different - except you’d finally came out of your 1 billion doller cave after the whole ‘fiasco’ with your families. but it was the little hand kisses and forehead pecks in between taehyung making mini runs to get to your side to open your car door.

and the ‘how was your day’s and which are followed by a ‘you’re still deadset on working, huh?’s each time you told him about your in-the-work resume since you’re ‘at the risk of getting a notice of resignation any time soon’.

“what if you started your own business? i could buy a whole building in nonhyeon-dong that you could make as your headquarters?” he offers in between twirling the pasta around his fork after you insisted that- “my job is the only thing that i’ve got going on for me to prove that i’m not a gold-digger that everyone thinks i am.”

“i was thinking more like travelling from place to place like...” you shoot him a ‘you know’ smile before adding, “a cabin crew.”

“one of korean air’s biggest shareholders are letting go of her stock because her color pencil business isn’t doing so well these days,” he nods, deeply contemplative, “they’re gonna be sacking a few employees if they don’t get buyers by the next two months,” he surmises with a concluding nod to which you end up laughing and almost choking on your food.

picking up the water on your right, you quickly gulp it down before clarifying as to why you found his statement so funny that you’d risk your esophagus in the process, “no, tae,” that nickname is also one of the little things that just happens - you don’t miss the tuck in the corners of his lips when it slips off your tongue, “it’s sweet of you to want to buy me a share of the airline i’m working for but that’s the thing, it’s your money,” you reach out for his hand, smiling when he meets yours halfway.

a warm pressure engulfs your hand as he squeezes briefly, “and i told you, what’s mine is yours.”

“likewise,” you fix him a grateful smile, “but i like flying. i like being a cabin crew - on top of holding onto my job to prove people wrong, of course.”

the longest pause hovers over you like a grey clouds with taehyung’s beautiful but contemplating eyes holding you captive. as though trying to take you out part by part, trying to figure you out.

“then, what would you like me to do?” the question catches you off guard, like being hit by a wild baseball even though you’re walking right next to a baseball field, “you’ve always been so good at taking care of yourself - when you broke down in front of me... at the hospital... i didn’t know what to do-” his lips quiver just the slightest bit, almost as though holding back invisible tears, “tell me what to do. because it feels like everything i do isn’t the slightest bit helpful. ”

all of a sudden, the sands of time seem to have stopped, levitating midair within the dip of the hourglass. it’s daunting but heartbreaking at the same time - the sight of raw fear and uncertainty that’s pooling within taehyung’d eyes like unmoving river - you never knew your attempts to hold up your values reflects as a declaration of nonessential to taehyung’s own attempts to reach out to you.

“i don’t need you - to fight my battles, to solve my problems for me - though i’m immensely grateful that you did,” you say after what feels like an eternity, “but i want you so... stay as you are, supporting me like you’re doing now.”

“i don’t know if that counts as support - i’m not doing anything,” he counters, eyes downcasted until you reach out your other hand to cover his that’s already holding your left hand.

“you are - you never invalidated my feelings of wanting to work, you encouraged me to do bigger things and that means you believe in me - maybe i will take up that offer in the future but right now, i want to keep doing what i always have been,” you fix him a smile, “and i want to do it with you by my side.”

the tiniest of smile that slips onto his face tells you that his heart is still in a state of unrest. unconvinced. but he’s trying as he nods, “if that’s what you want,” and you thought that’s the end of it. until the foreshadowing “but,” that comes a second later, “i’m not gonna stop worrying and trying to fix things - we’re married, your problems are my problems too.”

the chuckle escapes your mouth signifies the good natured jest of your next words as you summon your hands back, already missing the warmth of his much larger ones around you, “well we weren’t exactly on that term until just recently.”

a shadow casts itself over taehyung’s handsome face as he picks up his fork, “that’s something i’ll regret for the rest of my life - not getting to know you beyond the contract sooner.”

“everyone makes mistakes,” you shrug before taking a peek at his expression as you mention a certain free spirited woman, “besides, you were too caught up with jeongyeon on our first year of marriage.”

she had been one of the few people who’d managed to bring out a side of taehyung you never knew existed.

boyish. bratty. someone who actually bicker and whines about the littlest things and everything that was on the opposite spectrum the crisp, suit-wearing, slicked back hair, charming man you married. sometimes, when you go out to dinners or the little moments when you find yourselves alone while attending functions, you see glimpses of that playful, boyish side of him. the human side of him.

over time, you realize that that’s also part of what makes taehyung... well, taehyung. it’s just only recently that you start seeing more than glimpses of these sides behind closed doors.

the way his eyes widen is enough for you to know that you’ve hit the nail right on its head. if the incomprehensible stuttering isn’t, “that... i was... we didn’t-”

“i know,” you fix him a jesting smile, “you may be a certified charmer for the most part but you’re not a homewrecker, tae.”

lunch goes on with you talking about how your father and brother are thrilled to have you and taehyung over for your monthly dinner. to which the man was partly confused and partly shivered in his seat at the thought of sitting down at a table with two of your favorite men in the world no doubt shooting him daggers while you’re not watching - or pretend that you don’t notice.

“i can’t avoid father forever,” he laments, finally giving into his fate as you walk out the restaurant, “and i have a lot of owning up to do to your family.”

“as do i,” you hum in agreement once before murmuring a ‘thank you’ as he holds the car door open after tipping the valet.

it’s only five minutes into the ride, once the car rolls to a stop at a red light does he turn to you, “you know, you don’t have to... with mom, reconciliation is a two way thing and she...” you notice the way his grip tightens around the wheel, eyes darkening as he breathes in, grounding himself “- she even made you file for divorce.”

the papers she’d given you that day still lied in your drawer, hidden away from taehyung’s pyromaniac hands. you’d caught him almost setting them on fire when you he found it lying on the counter after he’d returned home. all because spent a good chunk of the afternoon staring at it before leaving it to take a hot bath, not realizing taehyung would be home any time soon. ever since then, he hadn’t been on speaking terms with mrs. kim. turned down offers for dinners and luncheons, as he had directly told her in front of you through a phone call, “...not until you apologize to ___ first.”

“tae, mother was hurt by our lies and i understand why, i can’t promise i’ll be as accepting if i found out the daughter-in-law i cherished so much didn’t marry my son for love like i thought they did,” you lightly pat his hand that’s on the gear but instead he captures your fingers between his and guide them to his lips as he traps you within those beautiful eyes.

“you’re too kind for your own good, you know that?” there they are again, hazel underneath the light. but clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

but before you can even muster a word, his eyes are already focused on the road as the car propels itself forward. but he doesn’t let go of your hand. he keeps it twined with his between yours and the gear. almost as if he didn’t want to be apart from you if he could help it. and neither could did you as you rub tiny motions into the back of his hand.

in your defense, you’ve stolen a precious gem from her that no money or gold could ever replace. and no matter how much you cherish the bond that formed after hours spent on shopping, tea times and mother-daughter (in-law) vacations, you’re not kind enough to unwrap him from your little fingers.

a smile curls on your lips as you guide taehyung’s hand to yours, placing a kiss on his knuckles and watching as his own lips tuck at the corners.

you’ll just have to make it up to mother some other way.

x

note. if you enjoy this then please leave a comment either below or in my inbox! and check out the other members’ installments to the series filed under ‘verse’ on top!

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 06

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: The dinner is coming up and there’s a little flangst. Also, they are still two stubborn idiots.

WC: 3779

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​​​​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

It feels like she’s been sitting down for ages and she’s worried about Bobby and Liv. Sure enough, Sam sensed her worries and texted her that they are both being taken care of. So at least there’s that. 

Pamela made her slip into the sequin dress after her shower and the woman put some makeup on her face.

“Not too much, okay?” Y/N says, just making sure because she still wants to be herself after all.

The brown haired woman chuckles, “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll just turn up the volume a little, you’re fine the way you are. You have a cute face, don’t want to hide that below too much make up anyway,”

With careful strokes, Pamela shows her how she can apply it herself for her next outings and yeah, Y/N can’t say that she doesn’t like that. Because it seems hideous to always have a stylist at hand, no? She didn’t sign up for this crap.

When Pamela is done, she leaves with a contented smile on her face and Y/N walks over to the floor lengths mirror that’s attached to her closet to catch her own reflection. She wears heels, has to still get used to it because they are way higher than the ones she wears for work. Apparently being fake engaged to Dean Winchester comes with a sacrifice of her feet. 

Her eyes trail up her body from her shoes to her face and it’s weird because she thought that she’d probably not be able to recognize the women who will be staring back at her, but she does. Pamela was true to her word, she just really turned up the volume to Y/N’s boring self. 

Okay, now is the time to present herself, she guesses. Sam had said that they’re waiting in the study. She’s yet to find out where it is, though. 

Sticking her tongue out at her own reflection, she starts to chuckle. She’s living the life she never thought she’d get to experience and god, she hopes she won’t lose herself in it.

With a last look around her new room, she makes her way to Dean’s study.

  Dean makes his way into his study after having rushed home after the meeting to take a shower. He had been sweating bullets since this morning and it was refreshing to say the least. It would have been better if his dick wasn’t half hard when he thought about Y/N. He didn’t rub himself off, didn’t let himself go there and jerk off to the image of a girl he paid to pretend to be his fake fiancée. He was afraid that it would uncover things he didn’t need in his life right now. 

So, when he pushes the door to his study open, his dick is still semi but Dean thinks it’ll go away soon. Especially when he thinks about the dinner with his dad because that meeting is what nightmares are made of.

Sam’s already waiting on the couch, nursing a drink. He probably had a rough day as well and Dean can’t blame him. He walks over to his mini bar, pours himself two fingers of whisky and sits down with a grunt across from Sam.

“Go on,” Dean says, “I know you have a lot to say,”

The other man just chuckles, “She’s cute and pretty, you didn’t mention that,”

“Is she?” Dean cocks an eyebrow and takes a sip from his drink, “You’re right, I didn’t.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Sam,” Dean snorts out the man’s name, “I don’t even know her. She was in the right place at the right time,”

“You were never a good liar. I could always see through you.”

Dean frowns, “What do you mean?”

The other man chuckles as he takes a sip and lets the liquid travel down his throat, “You could have chosen anyone for that. The execs in your meetings, the ones working just below you, yet, you picked her.”

“Are you trying to go anywhere with this?” Dean asks with clear irritation in his voice. 

“Wait for it,” Sam says before he takes another gulp of the brown liquid in his glass and Dean rolls his eyes. Sam grins before he goes on, “All our lives, you have never picked a girl, Dean. Mostly they offer themselves to you, even back at school, do you remember?”

Oh, yeah, he does remember. Sam’s not wrong, but still.

“They offer and present themselves to you or your father picks them for you to bring along to social events and most of the time, you’re a one date kinda guy. You never ever picked one on your own.”

“You say it like women are something you find in a field,”

“Am I wrong?” Sam raises an eyebrow to match Dean’s, “Fact is, you picked out Y/N, even though you could have waited. You could have talked things through with me, wait until Carmen gets back and we could have come up with a plan. You know that she isn’t in for you either, she’s signed a contract and was willing to sign that prenup.”

“I didn’t want to wait for Carmen to come back to me,” Dean’s voice is stern. He really didn’t, he didn’t want people to think he let it slide when she’s been cheating on him. How will it make him look? He’s not a fucking idiot.

“I’m just saying that you’re being hot headed doesn’t help us at all. And the fact is still there that you’ve picked her and that means something in my book,”

“What stupid books are you reading?”

Sam chuckles and ignores Dean’s remark, “Carmen boarded the next plane back, by the way,”

Dean takes a sip from his drink, thinks about Sam’s words, “You can tell her that she doesn’t need to show up. I’m not taking her back when I have Y/N,”

The other man’s grinning from ear to ear and Dean rolls his eyes a second time, “And no, I don’t really like her. I barely know her. I just find her interesting, is all. She’s different to all the women I’ve ever met.”

There’s a laugh coming out of Sam and Dean scoffs annoyingly. 

Just when Dean wants to open his mouth to tell Sam to shut the fuck up, there’s a knock at the door. 

They both turn their heads to see Y/N open the door to his study. Dean feels a rush of blood to his head. How long has she been standing outside? How much did she hear? But before he can think about being more embarrassed, another punch knocks him out when he sees her walking in with her beautiful dress. 

“Sorry,” She says, “Am I interrupting?”

Dean has to clear his throat before he’s able to speak, “No, you didn’t. Come in,”

She nods and walks further into the room. She looks absolutely stunning, a really stark contrast to the look when he met her. It’s not that she was ugly before, she wasn’t — isn’t. He can see that she only wears minimal makeup.

“How do I look?” She asks with a smile as she twists around in her dress and somehow Dean wishes that Sam wasn’t here to see her like this.

“You do clean up nicely,” It slips out of Dean. 

Clean up nicely? What the fuck did he just say? Who says that?

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Sam chimes in to probably play off the stupidity that Dean just let slip out of his mouth and Dean sends him a grim look. 

But it doesn’t stop there because Sam ignores Dean’s look to wink at her. He’s a little irritated by it, to say the least. 

“So, Y/N,” Sam says, “Do you care to tell me how you two met?”

“Sam, aren’t you late for your appointment?” Dean interrupts.

Sam looks at him puzzled and it takes another two seconds until he catches on, “Oh, yeah. It was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you because you’re a delight,”

The tall man stands up and takes Y/N’s hand, places a kiss on the back of it before he leaves and Dean tries his best not to let the feeling of jealousy hit him. He doesn’t know why he should feel jealous anyway. There’s nothing to be jealous about. It’s a business deal. He should be used to it, right? Right.

“My father will arrive in thirty minutes,” Dean says drily, his throat restricting the longer she looks at him. 

“Is there anything I need to know before you feed me to him?”

Dean lets out a small snort, “I’m not feeding you to him. I’m there too and can help out. When I think of it, maybe it’ll be good if we could establish the story of how we met.”

“Oh, I know!” Y/N shrieks out and gets all excited. Dean thinks it’s really cute. “How about I got into the elevators so quick which made you spill the coffee you’re holding over your shoes and pants? Like, the story is really partially true and it would be less hard for me to make it sound trustworthy,”

“Go on,” Dean nods his head, and empties his glass before he sets it down on the table before him. 

Her long legs and the away she sits doesn’t help his state of mind. The dress has ridden up on the couch and Dean tries to look anywhere other than at that exposed flesh that he’d like to sink his teeth into.

“I was afraid that you’d be mad at me so I offered to buy you a coffee to make up for it, but you didn’t want that because you were late to a meeting. But I was persistent and waited in front of the door and asked you so many times if you wanted a coffee and to please let me make up for ruining your suit. And somehow you agreed, maybe just to shut me up. We went on a coffee date every day until we fell in love.”

After her story, she smiled satisfactorily. The smile of a winner if he ever did see one. One he shows too often after a done deal. 

“I don’t really have time for coffee dates,” Dean adds his two cents, knowing that it doesn’t sound quite nice but he just can’t help himself. That’s the way he is. The way people expect him to be.

There’s a little pout on her lips, and Dean’s not prepared for that because it looks too cute, “I mean do you have a better idea?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, “I like it, I never said I didn’t,”

“Good, but I’ll let you come up with your proposal story, okay? I feel like I can’t pick my brain anymore than I already have. It has been a long day.”

“Right,” He stands up and pats his thighs, buttons up his suit jacket too because he thinks it hides his more than semi hard dick pretty well, “Wait here, I’ll be right back,”

  Dean leaves the door open and Y/N can hear his heels clicking on the stone flooring until the sound is out of earshot. She wonders what he’s up to, feels a little nervous about it.

While Dean’s gone, she gets up from the couch and looks around the room. The study is spacious, like every room in this ridiculously big penthouse, she guesses. There’s a desk at the far wall, a bookshelf graces the other wall. It’s full of books. She wonders if Dean really reads. It doesn’t seem like he has the time to do so. She wonders if he relaxes at all because he seems so tense all the time. Maybe he only tenses up when he’s around her, at least she can’t help to feel this way.

There’s the group of sofas where she was sitting on but right by the floor to ceiling window is another sofa that looks out over the city. She wonders why that is because the sofa seems a bit out of place. 

Standing by the window, she’s looking out over the city, the people and cars seem so small from up here. She doesn’t dare to touch the glass though in fear that she’d leave handprints all over it. Dean probably won’t be happy about that.

She’s lost in thought, wondering over and over again if she had made the right choice. It was a spur of the moment thing. She does a lot of those, like the time she hooked up with Jimmy for the first time. They were at a frat party and she knew him from her communications class. She let him drive her home, even though he was definitely not fit enough to drive but her head was spinning and she might have had a couple of drags of a joint too many. They didn’t even make it into her apartment, fucked right in the backseat, not worrying about contraception. 

By the time she knew she was pregnant, it was too late to abort, and honestly, she wouldn’t know if she would have. It’s not the baby’s fault. She and Jimmy tried to make it work, even though he was always suspicious if the baby was really his. Jimmy’s parents were loaded and he had a bigger apartment close to campus, funded by his parents. She moved in there because his parents wanted it that way, not because he did. While Jimmy was still enrolled and finished his degree, she dropped out to care for their baby. He eventually graduated but stayed in college to pursue his Master's degree. 

When Liv was four, Y/N wanted to try her chance at the job market as well, but Jimmy was against it. His parents were too, apparently, because they said that she wouldn’t be able to give their grandchild a good future and they wouldn’t stand to have their name dragged into this. She fought tooth and nail to keep Liv and changed the child's name back to her own. And after a long fight, they eventually agreed that she would take Liv, and Jimmy was not to pay a single dime. 

Getting out of the abusive and loveless relationship was probably the best decision of her life up until that point. Jimmy drank a lot and was overall not happy. He would lash out at her and she didn’t know why she stayed. Maybe there was a shred of hope that she desperately tried to cling on to. 

So, when she moved out, she stayed with Bobby for a while until she found the job in Dean’s company, and then it went pretty quick. She and Olivia moved into their own apartment.

A year later, she heard the news that Jimmy’s parents went bankrupt and Jimmy was trying to hold himself above water after he developed a drinking problem. Apparently, Karma’s right there helping her. 

She’s so deep in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice Dean returning, only realizes it when a figure is standing behind her. Startled, she jumps a little as she turns around. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” He mumbles as he steps closer to the window to stand next to her and they look out of the window together. It’s romantic, she thinks, with the backdrop of the city, especially at night.

Looking over to Dean again, she notices him holding a velvet box in his hand and smirks, “Is that a ring, loverboy?” 

Dean sends her a look accompanied by a little frown. Something that says, I have heard it but I won’t say anything because it’s stupid. Well, he might not be wrong.

“Sorry,” She breathes out, “I told you I tend to babble when I’m nervous,”

He sighs and lifts his eyebrow before he opens up the box and it is as if the air has been punched out of her lungs. 

“Wow,”

The ring is absolutely beautiful.

Dean smirks and clears his throat before he speaks, “It used to be my mother’s,”

It wasn’t like all the engagement rings Y/N’s seen that the rich and famous women are wearing nowadays. This one is modest, might even be boring and too normal compared to those. The ring has a bigger round diamond in the middle, with two smaller accompanying stones on its side. It’s a gold color ring too, not white gold like they usually are. It looks special and it looks like it has more sentimental value around it than monetary value. Maybe that’s also why she thinks it’s so precious.

“Dean, I can’t possibly wear this ring,” She says, but his hand already goes to her left one, grabbing it and holding it up to slip the ring on her finger.

He pauses to look at the ring, smiles as he sees how it fits. How did it fit anyway? How is that even possible? 

“I was right with the measurement,” Dean chuckles and she thinks that he wants to turn away, but he’s still standing here holding her hand, “I want you to wear it whenever you’re with me, okay?”

She can not do anything else but nod.

“I proposed to you on this rooftop, overlooking the city,” He says and it takes her a while to realize that he’s talking about his proposal story that he’s suggesting.

“Right,” She bites her lips and looks down to the ring briefly before she looks up to meet his eyes again. They are glistening a little, and there’s a hint of a smirk on his face. Right here by the window, his freckles are prominent on his face. 

Y/N’s distracted, feels the urge to count them.

“We were alone and we just had a meal. It was a warm summer night and we took our desserts on the terrace,”

She can picture it clearly and her heart starts to beat faster. 

“I didn’t prepare a speech,” Dean clears his throat, and adds, “And the things I said weren’t particularly romantic,”

“It didn’t matter, because I know that you feel more comfortable showing your actions rather than using your words,” She chimes in, “There’s no romance needed, no sappy words, because you already show me enough how much you love me,”

There’s a sparkle in his eyes after she said it. Somehow she thinks it’s fondness, but then something changes and he avoids her eyes. Instead, he looks down to the hand that’s still holding hers. His cheeks are tinted pink. It’s totally cute how embarrassed he gets. 

“So,” Dean swallows, “The contract says that we don’t touch each other more than necessary, especially not in private. But since my dad will be here, we will probably need to keep up the illusion, don’t you think?”

“Dean, the only one who seems to be uneasy and flinches at my touches is you,”

The pink in his cheeks rises up to his ears, “Yeah, I’ll try to change, okay?”

“I want you to feel comfortable. And please know that you touching me doesn’t bother me. I’m not disgusted or disturbed by it, okay?”

He nods, “I’m not—” He starts, but stops to exhale, and then he tries again, “I’m not disgusted by your touches, I just need to relax, I guess,”

“What would help you relax?” She asks and she means it. Maybe she can help. 

“It would help if I knew that I didn’t pay you,” He chuckles drily, “Dad will be here soon so let’s get this over with,” He pulls her along to the door and her grip tightens around his hand. 

She’s so fucking nervous.

“What if he hates me?” She whispers just before they reach the door and Dean turns around, places a hand where her shoulder meets her neck.

“My father wouldn’t like you even if it was real. He has high standards,”

“That’s fucking reassuring, thanks,” 

Dean chuckles, “It doesn’t matter what he thinks, okay?” He rubs along her arm with his other hand, “Can you pretend to love me for a while, Y/N?” 

“It depends,” She says with a shrug and his eyes widen. She smirks then to ease the situation because he obviously doesn’t get the joke. “Can you pretend that I’m the only thing that keeps you going? Pretend that I’m your first thought when you wake up and the last before you fall asleep, Dean? It’s more challenging for you with the array of women you’ve dated,”

He smiles crookedly, and there’s that glint in his eyes again, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not worried about my end of the bargain,”

Her face feels hot all of a sudden but she frowns after she catches herself, “Of course you’re not because you have nothing to lose,”

The frown on Dean’s face matches hers from before, “What are you talking about?”

“Yeah well, if I screw this up, I will lose my job and a steady income but you?” She pokes at his chest with her index finger, “You, Mister, will probably get a lecture from your dad, but you’ll be back to dating super rich women and beautiful models, and you can go on with your life as if nothing happened.”

Dean chuckles and he looks kind of amused? Which is not fair at all when she’s all worked up.

He pushes both his hands into his pants pockets, balances back and forth on his heels before he leans down to be on her level, brings down the air with him and she can smell his cologne. It’s intoxicating. 

“Tell you what,” Dean smirks, “If this blows up because of me, if they should see through me or if anyone should question my feelings for you, I’ll buy you an apartment and I’ll help you secure a job. I have connections. Somewhere where no one knows that you were being engaged to me. But,” He darts his tongue out, licks over his lips and she bites down on her own because she knows exactly how they feel, “If you make a mistake and it blows up because of you, sweetheart,” He makes a pause and stands back straight.

“I have nothing you’d want,” She shakes her head.

“There’s something,” He shrugs and he says it so easily too. She can’t help but frown in confusion.

“What?”

“If it blows up because of you, Y/N. If you fail to convince the world how much you love me,” He grins, and the grin grows cocky, “You’ll marry me,”

Ch. 07

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[luxurybrownbarbie]

Literally I told my dad I would want a prenup with my future spouse and he rattled on about true love and I was like “??? Then we won’t ever have to use it?? It’s like insurance for marriage” and he thinks I’d be offended if a man asked (I wouldn’t). It’s about protecting my assets just in case. But I think a lot of more old fashioned guys are like that.

(I’m so sorry I’m so late to this 💛!)

You’re right! People get so caught up in the idea of the prenup, like “How dare you think your love won’t last forever and ever!” as if you sign it and then spend every waking second of the next however many years thinking about this legal document you signed to make sure all your assets are protected. It’s just unrealistic. At worst, if circumstances change heavily, you to get a postnup and re-evaluate it every five years or so. If nothing changes, you sign a document and move on. People give it so much weight.

I think people just get their feelings hurt because you “don’t expect it to last”, but it’s ridiculous, and I’ve seen too many women get absolutely burned because they have no recourse after divorce. People get nasty where breakups are involved, but no one likes talking about it.