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teawan · 2 years

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Heyoo! Saw your post for fic ideas but I was wondering if you would mind doing a Byler forehead touch in the rain that evolves into a kiss? Something that mirrors the "It's not my fault you don't like girls" scene but less angsty and more romantically tense?

Then afterwards they hug and laugh or something, like, you can feel the relief when they realise all the tension (from the mutual romantic feelings) has been burst.

this one was a little tricky!!! i'm not really confident about the characterization (as always) but i do think it's pretty fluffy and hopefully satisfies someone's cravings for a sweet byler moment <3 enjoy!

Mike is staring at Will when the shrill ringing of the downstairs phone sounds, and he just barely manages to look away before Will’s head shoots up from where it had previously been bent over, studying one of Mike’s X-Men comics. Willing his heart to stop pounding like he’s a toddler who’s been caught with a hand in the cookie jar, he glances back over at Will in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner.

“That’s probably my mom,” says Will, seeing Mike’s questioning look at his peculiarly severe reaction. He grimaces slightly, as if tasting something bitter. “I think I forgot to tell her I was coming home with you today.”

Mike’s brain short-circuits at Will’s choice of words—coming home with you. He knows it’s nothing, because yes, Will had, in fact, come to the Wheeler house after school today instead of to his own home, so there’s nothing to read into. At all. But he can’t help but think back to the soap operas his mom watches at night after dinner, when the protagonist meets a tall, dark, and handsome mystery man in the bar after a breakup, and he asks her, word for word: what do you think about coming home with me tonight, darling? It doesn’t take much of an imagination to guess at what that kind of “coming home” implies.

But this is Will. William Byers, Mike’s best friend since kindergarten, and he should not be thinking this way about the boy sitting on his bed across from him; he shouldn’t be thinking this way about any boy.

He knows there’s something wrong with him, that he shouldn’t be thinking like this—he’s grown up with a father that scoffs and curses under his breath at the rare sight of two men doing something as simple as holding hands in public, with a mother that can’t even speak the word homosexuals or queers without glancing around and lowering her voice like it’s a dirty thing to say. Yes, he likes girls and their uniquely feminine beauty, the way their hips curve out gently, that indescribable pleasant girl-smell that seems to radiate from every female person he’s encountered, but that’s not all he likes. He’s stared at the men in the dirty magazines under Lucas’s bed just as much as, if not more than, the women. He shouldn’t be thinking like this, but yet, his thoughts race a million miles a second at that phrase leaving Will’s lips, those words shaped by Will’s beautiful, musical voice, directed at him.

He realizes Will has been watching him patiently, waiting for a response. His head is cocked to the side just slightly, like a curious puppy. Mike is certain that he is about to explode. “...Ah. Should we—”

Before he can finish his trainwreck of a sentence, his mother’s voice travels up from the first floor. “Will, honey? Your mother’s on the phone!”

“Yep,” Will says, as an answer to Mike or a confirmation to his own previous statement, Mike isn’t sure, and then slips off the bed, walking almost silently in sock-clad feet over to the door. He turns the knob, pulling it open, and glances back at Mike, looking expectant. “Aren’t you gonna come?”

“Uh, yeah! Of course,” Mike splutters, cursing himself silently. He is so far in over his head right now. If he keeps this up, the entire population of Hawkins and their mother will know about his big, fat, crush on Will Byers. He wishes he could shake out his head to clear it, like how dogs do after getting baths, but he figures that would only make things worse. Instead, he schools his face into the most normal, absolutely-not-attracted-to-his-best-friend expression he can, and stands as well, following Will through the hallway and down the stairs.

His mother is waiting for the two of them by the phone, and when she sees them appear, she says so into the speaker and then hands it to Will. He can only hear one side of the conversation, but it’s not hard to follow, since he’s been around for enough of Will’s interactions with Joyce that he has a feel of how a typical conversation might go.

“Yeah, sorry,” Will is saying quietly, looking down at his feet as he listens to his mother’s reply. “I forgot to tell you, but yeah. I’m okay. I’m with Mike.”

The first thing his mind jumps to when he hears those last two sentences from Will is that to the Byers boy, being okay and being with Mike is synonymous. His heart swells for a moment—I’m safe to him, he knows I’ll protect him—before he checks back into reality and realizes that, once again, he’s reading way too deeply into things. He doesn’t know what the hell’s gotten into him today—maybe the sight of Will sprawled out on Mike’s bed like he belonged there, fitting perfectly in like the last piece in the puzzle of Mike’s life, was too much to handle.

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Will says, voice tinted with a touch of exasperation. Clearly Joyce’s overprotectiveness is showing itself again, but, if he’s honest, he can’t blame her. Sometimes he catches himself worrying about Will a little more than maybe he should when the shorter boy is a couple of minutes late to school, or when there’s a hint of that glossy-eyed dissociation that takes Mike back to that night in the shed, with Will tied up like some kind of criminal, his best friend’s body taken by a sick, evil creature, when Mike had thought for one horrible moment that perhaps he would never again get to play Dungeons and Dragons with the only person he felt had ever really understood him.

“Calm down, Mom, I’m sorry. Look, I’ll head home now, alright?” With one last drawn out goodbye, Will finally hangs up, turning to Mike with a wry smile. “I have to go. My mom’s pissed off that I came over without telling anyone.”

“It’s cool,” Mike reassures him, “she’s just worried. I can understand why.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wants to slap himself. He can understand why? That’s exactly the kind of thing that’s going to get him in trouble, the kind of thing that’s going to clue people in on his weird, twisted desires and make him lose Will forever.

Luckily, though, Will doesn’t seem to really process what Mike has said as thoroughly as Mike himself has, and just sniffs a laugh as he heads toward the door to the garage, where his bike is resting against the wall right next to Mike’s. Slightly disoriented, Mike trails behind him.

He slams into a wall.

Will spins around, startled at the sudden noise, and rushes to Mike’s side when he realizes what’s happened. “Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?”

Mike blinks once, twice, three times, head spinning a little from the impact, and waits until Will’s face comes into focus to reply. “Oof. Yeah. I’m okay, I, uh, lost my balance.” It’s a crappy excuse, and he just lays there on the ground, waiting for Will to call him out on it, but he never does. Instead, they stare at each other for a little a lot longer than what would be considered normal.

Will’s face is close enough for Mike to see every little detail: his eyes are this deep, beautifully smooth brown hue, a color that makes Mike imagine the taste of chocolate melting on his tongue—warm, silky, and decadent. He wants to tell that to the boy leaning over him, but the words are stuck in his throat because he can’t really tell what’s happening right now. Are these same thoughts circulating through Will’s head? Is he waxing poetic about Mike’s irises in his mind? Is he admiring the way Mike’s features are sculpted like they were carved by Aphrodite herself? Is he imagining what Mike’s lips would feel like pressed up against his own mouth?

Then the moment shatters. Will stumbles back, away from Mike’s face like he’s snapping out of a trance, face burning red and mumbling something that Mike can’t understand. He thinks it might be an apology. He wants to scream.

He doesn’t scream. In reality, he picks himself up off the floor casually, pretending not to see the deep red blush climbing up Will’s neck, and prays that Will has the decency to ignore the heat he can feel crawling up his own cheeks. Then, he walks on, taking the lead like the last two minutes didn’t happen, and listens closely to make sure he can hear Will’s footsteps behind him.

They exit the house silently, both avoiding each other’s gazes—Mike knows this because he’s taking every chance he has to steal a look at Will to see if maybe he’ll suddenly develop telepathic abilities and be able to read exactly what the Byers boy is thinking, and once or twice he catches Will turning his eyes away from Mike just a beat too late—as they make their way over to the corner where Will’s bike leans.

Will clears his throat awkwardly, making Mike jump a little. “Um, bye.” He doesn’t sound angry; more uncertain, as if he’s just as confused as Mike is. The thought that he might feel that way relaxes Mike a little. If they’re both stumbling blindly in the dark, then maybe it won’t be so embarrassing if he trips up and makes a mistake.

“Bye,” he offers back weakly, forcing a smile. It’s not that he’s mad or upset; he’s just far too bewildered to muster up a genuine one at the moment. Will smiles back, swings his leg over the seat of the bike, and, with one final glance back at Mike, who tries to look as reassuring as possible, he rides off.

He’s only just turned the corner and disappeared from Mike’s field of vision when the sky opens up and rain comes crashing down in gray sheets, hitting the ground so powerfully that drops of icy cold water travel what has to be at least two feet and splatter onto the front of Mike’s shirt.

His first thought is of Will—Will, who’s on his own in the streets in the middle of this downpour, trying to make his way home. Without any hesitation, he sprints out into the storm and in the direction of the Byers house, and only then does he remember that he’s dressed in just a thin t-shirt and jeans, both of which are not even remotely waterproof. Within a second, he’s soaking wet and dripping like a soggy Goldfish cracker in tomato soup.

Fuck it, he thinks to himself. It’s not like running back into the shelter of the garage is going to magically dry his clothes, so he forges ahead, sneakers squelching as he runs, rain running down his face and into his eyes like cold tears. He can’t really see anything at all, but that’s okay, because he’s been down this sidewalk enough times that his feet can recognize the texture of the familiar pavement beneath them.

“Will!” he yells uselessly into the watery world. It would be a miracle if anyone heard him over the incessant shh-shh-shh of the rain, but he keeps on calling his best friend’s name nonetheless, using his hand to block as much water as possible from his face. He’s not even actually quite sure of what he plans to do if he does manage to catch up to Will, but he isn’t really thinking all that clearly right now.

Mike slows when his lungs begin to burn from breathing in air that is more water than oxygen, and by now he thinks he might be screwed. He’s cold, really, very cold and wet, at least half a mile away from his home, and Will is nowhere in sight—he’s uncomfortable enough now to admit that maybe this was a bad idea. His fingers are turning numb. Turning blindly around in circles, he tries to decipher his exact location. He knows the general area that he’s in, but with the rain obscuring his vision, he can’t quite pin down where exactly he’s standing. Sighing to himself when he realizes that there’s nothing to do but wait for the rain to mellow out, he blinks hard a couple of times to dispel the excess water from his eyelashes and wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to conserve body heat—

“Mike!”

He’s so fucking freezing that he’s hallucinating. Wonderful.

Then the voice, Will’s voice, calls out again: “Mike? Is that you?” and Mike takes a moment to try and figure out if this is real or just a figment of his imagination. Before he can decide, though, a dark figure appears somewhere from his left. It grows closer and closer until Mike can make out the shape of a boy, a boy wheeling a bike towards him. “Will?” he asks, although he’s certain that this is his friend, his best friend who’s stopped on his way home to backtrack through a rainstorm just because he heard Mike call his name.

“Mike! What are you doing out here?” It is indeed Will Byers, usually-fluffy hair plastered to his skull and plaid button-up soaked through. Water is dripping from his chin, his hair, his dark, clumped-together eyelashes, and all Mike can think about is how warm, how alive he looks.

“H-hi,” he stutters back, and realizes that his teeth are chattering.

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” says Will worriedly, casting his beloved bike to the side carelessly so that he can get closer to Mike. He pulls Mike into a hug, attempting to rub some warmth into his shoulders, and Mike presses his forehead down to Will’s. The shorter boy’s skin is warm, a little chilled by the icy downpour but still at a considerably higher temperature than Mike’s. Will doesn’t react much, still putting all his effort into transferring as much body heat as possible to Mike through various methods. Finally, he settles for the full-body hug, locking his arms around Mike and moving in to create as much contact as he can between the two.

Mike just watches, so starstruck at this beautiful boy in front of him, fussing over him—maybe it’s the numbness in his extremities or maybe it’s the years of pent up feelings and urges but he’s so distracted that he can’t really even feel the cold anymore—that he doesn’t protest, or blush, or freeze up like he might if this were to happen anywhere or anytime else. Then, Will tilts his head up a little so he can meet Mike’s eyes and opens his mouth to ask what Mike assumes will be another query as to why he’s not home, and Mike moves before he thinks.

Will’s mouth is just as warm as the rest of his body, and it feels like heaven against Mike’s cold lips, reminding him of sitting in front of the fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate after coming in from a day of playing in freshly-fallen snow. Will tastes like cinnamon and peaches and boy, so different from anything Mike’s ever tasted before, and he’s mesmerized by the complex flavor that tastes like sunshine and cologne and a newly-mowed lawn—in a pleasant way—all at once. It’s at least three times better than the way girls taste.

And then Will’s kissing back, and Mike is completely sure that this is the best kiss of his life. There is no possibility of anything, or anyone, topping this feeling of pure exhilaration and giddiness that’s sweeping away any remnants of the wet chill from his bones. It’s gentle but insistent, the kiss, and, as if the universe is somehow synced to Mike’s feelings, the rain abruptly lightens to a much more reasonable drizzle.

Will pulls away, and Mike panics for a moment, but then he sees the wonder on the smaller boy’s face and any fear is erased from the pit of his stomach. He sees Will stare, at him, at the rain, at the water dripping off of the both of them, and suddenly he’s laughing, laughing so hard that he doubles over because he feels so light. As he clutches his stomach, peals of laughter escaping him uncontrollably, he hears Will start to giggle as well, a sweet, light, beautiful sound that makes Mike want to kiss him again and never stop.

He hadn’t realized how heavily these feelings had been weighing on him, on his friendship with Will—hadn’t realized that suppressing those thoughts and emotions had actually taken a toll on him, like someone had been gradually dropping rocks into his pockets as he struggled to tread water. Now that that weight is lifted, though, he can’t do much more than relish the floaty feeling in his body, the bubbly happiness that he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced before. A glance at Will confirms that the other boy seems just as elated, brown doe-eyes sparkling, and Mike recovers enough to pull Will into another kiss. This one is shorter, more of a drawn-out peck, but it’s just as awe-inducing as the one before it. “Guess what,” he asks Will when they part again.

Eyes wide and smiling, Will asks what.

“I’m in love with William Byers,” Mike tells him, and it’s like the clouds part in his heart, allowing sunshine to reach into every nook and cranny of his insides. “I’m in love with you.”

#fanfiction #one shot #byler #mike wheeler x will byers #fanfic #stranger things #text #fluff #first kiss #might be ooc #fic request #byler fluff #constructive critism welcome #kissing

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

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Ok so I've been coming back here to reread all of your work and I never get tired of it (the NSFW alphabet one is low-key my favorite one 👀) and let me tell you that you're one of my favorite writers and love all of your work.

You don't have to do it if you don't want to, but do you have hc of how Billy Russo would react/ be when he finds out that he's going to be a father? Based on your NSFW alphabet you did for him, you described him as a (extremely) sweet and caring person and I couldn't help to think about how he would be if he ever had a kid of his own.

(Once again, feel free to ignore this if you want to or feel uncomfortable doing it. It's a thought that hass been in my head for a while and wanted to get it out of my system lmao 😂)

First off, thank you! I really appreciate that 🥺🖤🖤🖤

Also, I love talking about headcanons, never worry about asking me about them lmao

So I just wanna say since I did write a multi chapter series about how Billy walked away when he found out that like, the idea for that happened because the first part, his letter to you, is what came to my head. And I wanted to write something sad and angsty. I feel like he's much more likely to stick around in all honesty but the boys got so many issues who even knows loool

But I just wanted to point that out because this will be different and I don't want people to be like; 'But Thalia... you did a whole thing where he left...' 😂

So yeah lmao

Remember, this is my Billy. AU, still bros with Frank Billy 👀😂🖤

I've split this into a few scenarios because I feel like there would be small differences depending on the context.

One night stand:

You had a one night stand with Billy. An amazing, ruin you for other men, kind of one night stand. But then you found out you were pregnant and went to Anvil to tell him. Of course when you turn up there he has no idea the bomb you're about to drop on him. Instead, he gives you a filthy smirk as you enter his office.

"Couldn't stay away?"

When you tell Billy you're pregnant, there's a long moment where he just blinks at you and you're pretty sure you might have broke him.

He cycles through a million and one emotions before it settles on a mix of sheer terror, shock and happiness.

He tries not to get offended when you blurt out that you'd understand if he didn't want to be part of his baby's life. He didn't want his kid to grow up feeling like he didn't love them. He's not his mother.

You're not offended when the first words to leave his lips are asking if the baby is definitely his. Its a valid question since you'd slept with him just hours after meeting him in a bar.

He tells you he wants to be there and of course he takes care of all medical bills and even tries to convince you to let him buy you a better place to live. Somewhere closer to him so you and the baby will be close by.

It wasn't planned or expected by any means but he wants to be there.

Casual sex/friends with benefits:

Billy comes over expecting to get some great sex and instead has you thrusting a pregnancy test in his hands. You're scared and upset and have no idea how he'll react. You've been sleeping together for a while but been friends for longer than that. His commitment issues are exactly why you're worried.

He sits down and stares at it, letting his brain try to absorb the fact he's going to be a dad. He feels the shot of anxiety run through him, wondering if he can do it. What kind of dad could he be? His own mother never loved him, would he be capable of loving a child?

But he knows the answer is yes. Because despite not even being in a relationship with you and this coming out of the blue, he feels excitement welling inside of him and he doesn't even realise he's smiling at the test in his hands.

When he looks back at you, sees how scared you are, he feels a pang of something in his chest that feels an awful lot like panic. He asks what you want to do, scared of the answer you'll give him. But of course you scoff and tell him you're keeping the baby.

Relief and happiness flood his body then as he gets up, hugging you tightly and stroking your hair.

"You don't gotta worry. I'll take care of you both, I promise."

And he means it. Once again he pays all the medical bills and he shockingly tells you he'd like to make a real go out of what you two have.

He buys a house for you and the baby but doesn't pressure you about him living there too. He let's you set the pace for what's happening between you.

Relationship/marriage:

He cries. Like a lot. Planned or not, the news has him weeping like a little girl. You're living together so he notices when you're feeling unwell. Notices that you haven't had your period since he normally gets you ice-cream and also gets you pads and things if you need them. He doesn't say anything though until you do.

So he gets the test for you. The pair of you sit on the bed after you did what you needed, a timer on his phone. The test is on the dresser across the room. Both of you are silent. Overwhelmed by what might happen. He really wants it to be positive. (If this wasn't planned then when you told him you might be, he started to really think about it and found he wanted a baby with you).

When the timer goes off you both jump up comically but hesitate near the dresser. Billy ends up being the one brave enough to look. You watch his reaction for a moment and you're startled when his eyes water, the way he looks at you with a beaming smile as the tears fall without him even noticing.

"We're havin' a baby!" He grins like a mad man, picking you up and twirling you around.

He's so excited that the second your feet hit the ground, he's on the phone to Frank telling him the news. Still crying, mind you.

Once he's made his phone calls, he tells you the penthouse is being left behind. He's buying a house near the Castle's for your new little family.

Both he and Frank fix it up and decorate it.

No matter which scenario it happens:

Billy goes to every appointment with you, every ultrasound. The first time he sees his baby, he cries. When he finds out if its a boy or girl, he cries. When he first feels the baby kick, he cries. When the baby's born, he's a mess. He attends every class with you and reads all the books he can get his hands on. And of course he asks Frank for advice about anything and everything.

He frequently talks to your bump, regalling the baby with tales of his life or reading from a book. He takes good care of you, anything you need, he gets you. You want pickles and a donut at 4am? Don't worry, Billy's got you. You need crazy good sex because the hormones are driving you up the wall? Billy's got you. You're sobbing because you feel like a beached whale and none of your clothes, even the pregnancy ones fit you? Billy's there. Telling you that you're absolutely beautiful. Radiant even. He gets one of his guys to buy you a bunch of clothes that fit and he cuddles you until you feel better. He dotes on you constantly, always calls and texts if he's not with you to make sure you're okay.

When you go into labour, he's there holding your hand and cheering you on the whole time. And the second the babys there, he's sobbing and smiling like an idiot. When he first holds his baby, it's a feeling he's never felt before. He feels complete in every way. So full of love he just might burst from it. And while a tiny part of him grieves for the baby version of himself that didn't seem to ever have that, he's overwhelmed by the pure happiness and love as he gazes down at his little ones face.

"Shit... you're so perfect."

He vows to be the best damn father he can be and the baby will never feel unloved for even a second.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine #billy russo headcanons

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clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Voodoo doll” - Billy russo x reader

A/n: and here’s another one for Billy. I got the idea from a request I got for another character and I thought it perfectly fit Billy. As if Ben Barnes could ever be considered anything but beautiful, *scoff* please.

Warnings: a bit angsty, fluff though, jigsaw!billy, season 2 billy

Prompts(loosely): “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…”

(let me know if you want to be tagged to any of my writings)

“Oh, hi you’re up.” You let yourself inside Billy’s hospital room smiling when you saw that the back of his bed was pushed up. He was sitting instead of lying down and that usually meant that he was awake.

“How are you feeling today? The nurse outside told me that she gave you something for the pain but that everything is healing nicely.” Billy recovery looked like it was going to be long but after the impossibly long surgery you were just happy to see him alive and breathing. He didn’t look like he shared your optimism though. Granted, he was bound on a hospital bed, his body probably ached him all over and above all, his face was completely covered in bandages. It was the part that had taken most of the hits and Billy was one lucky bastard to even be in a hospital bed instead of being underground. That’s what the doctors had told you, at least.

Still, you could see how hard it was for him to see this whole situation in a positive way. It was taking its toll on him and you knew that no matter how many bruises and broken bones he had, his psychological health was the one which was in the worst shape.

You tried to offer him all the support you could. Sometimes that meant cheering him up with jokes and terrible puns, others simply required you to be next to him.

Seems like it was one of those days because Billy stayed silent.

“Billy?” you tried again, setting your bag on the ground and taking your usual place by the side of his bed.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” His voice was hoarse from how little he used it these days but hadn’t lost that gruff edge that you loved so much.

“Visiting his majesty of course.”

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s a waste of time anyway.”

“Waiting for the bus for 20 minutes before they tell you that the run has been cancelled, now that is what I call a waste of time.” You complained recalling what had happened that morning.

Since you had entered his room, Billy hadn’t moved. Not that he could manage any big movement given the restraints they had put on him but at least he could move his head. It had been laying on his pillow up until now. He lifted it to try and look you into your eyes.

“I’m not your Billy anymore.”

“Why? Has anyone made their claim on you? Is that what this awful smell is? Your new playmate’s piss?”

Billy made a noise, it sounded a halfway between a laugh or a sob but since his head was covered in bandages, you couldn’t really tell. You hoped for the first, Billy had always loved your sense of humour- he had told you it was one of the reasons why he had noticed you- even if it consisted of terrible jokes. You thought they were hilarious, Billy thought you were adorable. Whatever.

“Listen, I can see how hard you’re taking this whole reversed beauty and the beast plot. But just so you know, I’m willing to let my facial hair grow if that makes you feel like a princess again.” You added on a more serious note, kinda, hoping to convince him that his face wasn’t the only thing you loved about him.

This time, the sound that left him was most definitely a sob. Startled, you didn’t know what to do.

Could he even cry? Wouldn’t it mess up with his bandages? Why was he crying though?

Still unsure on how to go about this, you reached for one of his bound hands only to see that it was tightly close in a fist. Your hand wrapped around his anyway, hoping that this small contact could soothe him in some way.

Fuck, you must be really worse at this than you thought. You were trying to make him laugh and here he was crying.

“Billy?” you tried again in a whisper.

All jokes aside, something must have happened this morning to make him feel this on edge. Had someone been rude to him? Well, he was a wanted person of course people weren’t going to respond to him like they did before. Billy couldn’t even count on his charm and good looks and you knew how good he was at using them to get what he wanted.

Wait, could that be the problem?

You thought about the best way to word the question when Billy spoke again, saving you from the embarrassment.

“I don’t think this is going to work.” Uh, what? Oh no no, he doesn’t get to do that.

“I agree, I’m not a fan of facial hair myself. We could buy you a tiara though. That is definitely going to do the trick.” Completely refusing to acknowledge his words, you kept going along with your previous joke.

“I’m serious y/n.” He insisted, his voice straightening to highlight his intent but still to no avail. Still clueless to it, he had laid on a silver platter your next pun.

“I thought your name was Billy, not Sirius. Wicked name though.” His hand tensed in your hold and you knew that he was getting angry.

“Would you stop joking around for one second? I’m trying to tell you that you shouldn’t waste your time around me.” His voice grew rougher, not exactly the high and strict tone he used to use at Anvil, but you could see he had strained his vocal cord to even attempt a stern voice.

“I’m going to look like a butchered voodoo doll, forget the beast.” He added in a quieter voice. A confession laced with guilt.

“Oh Billy, don’t say that. You’re so much more than your looks, you know that. Besides, I’m sure you’re still going to be the one with the dashing looks of the relationship.” Your voice came out all wobbly and squeaky but you couldn’t help it, hearing Billy’s words, a far cry from the man he used to be made you emotional. You wanted nothing more than to help him but you didn’t know how. And here he was, trying to push you away.

“There’s no relationship, y/n.”

“I know that you’ve taken a big hit on your head, the doctor told me about your memory loss. It’s okay, they told me that some things are going to come back and you remembered my name when you woke up so that’s a good sign.”

Billy contemplated the idea of making up a story about him not remembering about you and come up with someway for how he knew you name when he first saw you after the incident but even though he wanted you to see his point, he couldn’t do that to you.

He did remember you and he knew that the first part of your relationship had been based on lies. About his work, about his past, about his whereabouts when you asked him where he was going to late at night.

He also remembered how that almost had cost him your relationship entirely.

Billy wasn’t one to make promises but he had made one to you. To at least try to be open and honest with you. There were still things that Billy didn’t talk to you about but this time around, instead of coming up with an excuse, he openly said that he couldn’t tell where or what he was doing . That, in the long run, had gained your trust back. You knew it was for your safety and that every time he told you you couldn’t know something, it was work-related.

And despite the fact that Billy was trying to self sabotage himself and your relationship, there was a part of him that didn’t want to see you go.

Yes, he still thought that you deserved more. Not only for his looks but for the things he knew he had done but couldn’t remember. If half the things he was accused of were true, then that didn’t make him a good person, did it?

“I do remember you. There is nothing more vibrant in my mind than my time with you. That’s not the problem.”

“Then I wholeheartedly refuse your attempt at breaking up. You can say whatever you want but I assure you it isn’t going to work.”

“I wish I could say that I did not remember you being this stubborn but we both know it would be a lie.”

“Oh, honey we both know that you enjoy it quite a bit when you want to.” You wriggled your eyebrows, trying and completely failing at making a suggestive face. You were successful, however, in making him laugh.

“Fuck don’t do that y/n, I can’t laugh.” he groaned, his head resting back on his bed.

“Well that is going to be a problem, ‘cause all I’m good at is being a huge cosmic joke.” You smiled at him, happy that he was finally done with all that nonsense he had just tried to pull. Instead, you dived into your back to show him what you had brought him.

It was his favorite comic book.

Apparently, a successful CEO of a security firm had an extensive collection of comic books which was also his most priced possession. The first time he had come around after the surgery, he had asked about them. He was worried that in searching his place for clues and whatnot the police had ruined it or something. You couldn’t see his face but the long sigh he let out when you told him that you had taken care of it personally looked a lot like relief.

What were hundreds of expensive tailored suits in comparison?

You started reading one of his favorite ones, including a very poor but very engaging representation of every sound of action in the story which made Billy smile under all those bandages. He felt like the luckiest voodoo doll in the world.

#billy russo #billy russo imagine #billy russo imagines #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fluff #marvel the punisher #the punisher #the punisher imagines #ben barnes #ben barnes imagines #ben barnes x reader

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the-al-chemist · 2 years

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Happy FFWF❤️❤️

So i was wondering, while writing an intense chapter such as your last one from artie's adventures, what would be your advice to someone who also wants to write a chapter related to alot of tragedy and drama?

Happy FFWF! (These answers are getting later and later, I’m so sorry!) 💛

Okay, this was one of the harder questions to answer this week, because I feel really underqualified to answer it. I actually think that the angsty and more emotionally intense scenes are the weaker parts of my writing. But, you asked. So let’s try…

I think the one saving grace for my angst scenes is that I have a really low angst tolerance. I find writing scenes that are intense difficult, so whenever I do, the scene has to have a reason to be in the story. I can only write angst if there is a point to it. Also, as a content consumer, I personally don’t like scenes in films/books/tv shows that are overdramatised, and so I have a tendency to pare back on the intensity of these scenes.

It’s not advice as such, but I have a horribly dark sense of humour, so I like to break up emotional intensity (whether that is emotion from angsty, romantic, or scary scenes) with light or even comic relief. It’s no coincidence that Tonks and Jae usually make appearances before or after more emotionally taxing scenes. It keeps me sane, and I think it makes for a better reading experience generally. No one really likes things to be all doom and gloom, and in real life there’s a laugh or smile to be had even when things aren’t going well for us. The thing I find challenging is picking out the exact place to put the light relief, and how much lightness is appropriate for the gravity of whatever else is going on.

In terms of advice, I’d say that the best way to improve writing emotionally intense scenes is to read and watch these critically whenever you come across them. Did you actually enjoy the angsty parts? Why/why not? Was it too intense, was it not intense enough (guilty, sorry!)? What made it seem that way for you? I’d also make sure that you really know the characters you’re writing in these situations, how they react to intense emotions and why, and how much pressure the character can actually handle before they completely crumble to pieces. And, most important of all, make sure you do your research about any potentially triggering topics so that you can write them realistically and sensitively.

I hope that helps! 💛

#al speaks #happy ffwf!

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izzyrmiller · 3 years

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Six females who helped me embrace my weirdness

I was 11 years old when I watched Kate Middleton get married to Prince William. She floated down the isle of Westminster Abbey looking effortlessly radiant – a vision of beauty and femininity.

Its fair to say not many of us will ever be able to relate to the likes of Kate Middleton, or any royal for that matter, but 11-year-old me watched the royal wedding and believed whole heartedly that this was the definition of the “perfect woman”.

It’s not just the future queen that gave me and many others this false ideal, there are a list of women who meet the criteria of “cookie-cutter” perfect. Yes, we as the public don’t really know the personalities of any celebrity, but it’s fair to say there’s a long list of famous faces who do a great job of making people feel well, like shit.

If you are anything like me, you may have spent most of your youth wondering why you were a bit different. Having stunningly beautiful and put together women gracing our TV’s, magazines and social media feeds likely adds to these feelings of inadequacy.

There are however an army of women I idolised growing up because they made me realise that there is much more to being a woman than beauty and elegance and that actually, it’s cool to be a bit of a weirdo.

From 90’s wild-childs to pop princesses, here is a list of six females who wear their weirdness with pride:

1. Björk:

Kicking off this list of quirky queens, is Icelandic singer Björk. There is no denying the talent and genius of this singer, songwriter, composer, record producer, actress and DJ who has blessed us with tunes such as “its oh so quiet” and “venus as a boy”. Björk’s music videos and lyrical content are odd and eccentric, which match her public image. If there is anything she has taught us, it’s that when you apply your eccentricity to your art, the results are beautiful.

2. FKA Twigs:

FKA Twigs really does encapsulate the essence of femininity whilst also embracing her differences. I remember walking to school as an angsty teenager with Twigs’ debut studio album LP1 plugged into my earphones, thinking I was the coolest kid going. I would watch interview after interview, in awe of how unusual and complex she was yet still so charming and elegant. Her most recent album, Magdalene, is a reflective and beautifully crafted piece of work that Twigs wrote during her public breakup from Robert Pattison. Not only is Twigs an incredibly gifted artist, but she has also become a voice for women who have found themselves victims of domestic abuse after she bravely opened up about her abusive relationship with Shia LeBeouf.

3. Whoopi Goldberg

I had to include Whoopi on this list. One of my favourite movies growing up was Ghost, not just because I had big fat crush on Patrick Swayze (me and everyone else), but because nothing made me hysterically laugh more than the iconic scene where Whoopi Goldberg’s character attends the bank in an attempt to impersonate someone and withdraw funds from her account. Whoopi Goldberg’s gift is that she can provide comic relief to any movie yet still deliver gut wrenchingly sad performances, watch the colour purple to see what I mean. The reason she has made this list is because she helped me understand that I do not need a significant other to be complete. Whenever I find myself feeling down about being single, or in a state of rumination about how I will probably end up alone with 12 cats, I remind myself of Whoopi Goldberg’s iconic answer to the marriage question; “I don’t want somebody in my house”. Same sis.

4. Courtney Love

I think I was probably introduced to Courtney Love through my love for Nirvana. Although Cobain had been dead for 5 years by the time I was born, I had grown up a fan of his which ultimately led me to become a fan of Courtney Love. Not only is Love the definition of rock chick but she was also the first female celebrity I knew of that was a known neurodivergent. Her beauty and ownership of her sexuality was very liberating for me as a young woman and even to this day I admire her frankness and passion for getting the truth across. Her band “Hole” also has some absolute bangers that I would highly recommend you give a listen.

5. Grace Jones

The honourable Grace Jones may have a bags of talent, a face to die for and overall star quality, but she represents a whole lot more. I had always been interested in the idea of androgyny growing up but could never quite muster up courage to attempt it myself… until I began obsessing over women like Grace Jones. As so eloquently put by Jean-Paul Goude for Vice in 2012; “she’s feminine, no doubt about that, but I’ve always thought she was far more beautiful without the artifices she’s employed to make herself more feminine”. I personally think we have Grace Jones to thank for empowering women to embrace their androgyny, as well as the tune that is “pull up to the bumper”.

6. Angelina Jolie

Angelina Jolie is often called “the most beautiful woman in the world”, and there is no doubt that she does in fact look as though she’s been crafted by angels, but when I think about Angie, I think about the 90s chick who wasn’t afraid to be her weird and wonderful self. The media liked to romanticize the wild-child days of Angelina Jolie, honing in on the blood vial necklaces, the unexpected relationships and so on, but for me Angelina Jolie was a young woman who did not care to live up to the expectations put upon her. She spoke up for what she believed in, she did what made her happy and didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought. Nowadays, Angie still makes headlines regarding her incredible humanitarian work. In the Summer, following the devastating scenes of refugees fleeing Afghanistan, Angie joined Instagram promoting her work for the UNHCR, the UN refugee agency. Queen shit.

I could go on and on rambling about female icons who aid in making us realise that we don’t have to be the picture of femininity and grace to be respected, in fact, if I have learned one thing from this, it’s that you can embrace the femme side of yourself whilst also unleashing your inner freak. Today, we have the likes of Doja cat, Meghan the stallion, Christine and the queens and a wealth of actresses, social media influencers and more famous faces instilling into young people that it’s okay to embrace your difference, speak up for what you believe in and be a bit weird.

#blogger #celebrity #being weird #literature #writing #angelina jolie #grace jones #courtney love #whoopi goldberg #fka twigs #bjorkfan #music #musicians #actress #feminist #student #why we need feminism

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spidernerdsblog · 4 years

Text

Wildest Dreams

Pairing: actor! Tom Holland x actress! Reader

Summary : Based on Taylor Swift’s song Wildest dreams. You thought Tom was the love of your life but it was just one of your wildest dreams.

Warnings : 18+,SMUT, mature content, infidelity, angst, tom being a douchebag.

"Today we have with us the Oscar winning renowned actress the one and only Y/N Y/L/N!" The RJ hyped you up.

"Hello everyone" you spoke on the mic in front of you smiling.

"Well first of all congratulations Y/N on your big oscar win."

"Thank you so much. I’m still recovering from it not gonna lie." You chuckle. The RJ asked you a bunch of other questions which you replied cheerfully.

"So you have been casted to play Morgan Stark in the next part of Marvel Avengers movie."

"Yes and I am looking forward to it. Being in a Marvel film was always on my wishlist and I can finally tick it off."

"Do you feel yourself under pressure as you will be continuing a legacy?"

"It’s definitely a pressure playing Tony Stark’s daughter and living upto the standards of none other than RDJ. Luckily he is personally mentoring me and I think I’ll fare well. I have read the script which I can't reveal much but playing the grown up version of Morgan who is a part of the Avengers will be a lot of fun."

"Well saying so you are also going to be sharing screen with Tom Holland after a long time. What do you have to say about the rumours of you being speculated as the possible reason behind his relationship with his fiancee hitting the rocks?" you took a moment before answering the question.

"Well a lot of things fly in the air we don't catch on everything right? And I have always made it clear that we never dated, we are just friends that's all."

"So you are still single?"

"And not interested to mingle." You chuckle.

"Well it was nice to have you with us today, Y/N."

"It was my pleasure. Love you guys bye."

The show ended and you headed out of the office building for the pre production meeting arranged by Marvel with the whole cast. You were sitting in your posh car, the last question of the RJ about your relationship with Tom still spiraling in your mind. You reminisced about one of your past mistakes. Though you wouldn't call it a mistake because you fell for a wrong person but when he left he gave you a life lesson which you will remember in your lifetime that 'nothing lasts forever'.

It started with a small Instagram follow but who knew it would take you down like that.

It all happened 2 years ago in a promotional show just like this. Your acting career had just begun and you had managed to create quite a buzz in and around the industry delivering two blockbusters mesmerizing the critics and audiences with your spectacular performance in your three year acting career. You were in a radio show for the promotion of your upcoming movie. The RJs were interviewing you.

"Well Tom Holland was here the other day and we asked who he likes among the upcoming new talents in the industry. He said and we quote that you are cute, sexy and very talented." the lady said.

"Well what do I say thank you Tom." you giggle shyly.

"Have you guys ever met?" the other male RJ asked.

"Not really, though we had a chance to interact during the comic con. But I really admire his work and would love to work with him in future."

"But I have to inform you that he is a little disappointed that he follows you but you never followed him back." the lady jokes.

"Well I can fix that I guess.'' You took out your phone from your jeans pocket and opened your insta app.

"And here we go, officially following Tom Holland." You said tapping the follow button.

"I hope now you are not upset anymore, Tom." you chuckle.

In less than a month you were signed up for a Netflix movie. It was a rom com and you were casted opposite none other than Tom Holland. The shooting began within two months.

You were on the set sitting in your trailer facetiming your mom.

"Honey are you eating well?" Your mom asked.

"Yes mom I am." You assured her when you heard a knock as the door of your trailer opened and the person’s head popped in, it was Tom. You waved your hand to usher him in.

"Five minutes please." You mouthed to him

"It’s okay," he mouthed back sitting on a chair.

"Who is it?" Your mom asked.

"It's my costar you know him, the guy from spiderman." You inform her.

"Oh the one you have a crush on?"

"Mom!" You shrieked utterly embarrassed with your mom revealing your secret.

"What? You only said that he is cute."

"Ok-ok I get it you made your point but I have to go now, I'll talk to you later."

"OK sweetie take care."

"Yeah bye mom." You ended the call heaving a sigh of relief and turned towards him.

"Ignore my mom. I just told her that you were cute in the homecoming movie and she just assumed I have a crush on you."

"Oh that's fine." He gave you a warm smile.

"So what's up?" You chirped.

"Umm just here to talk about the scenes we are going to shoot tomorrow together."

"Oh you mean the sex scenes?"

"Umm yeah." He said uneasiness clearly in his voice.

"Tom Holland nervous about some sex scenes?" You joked.

"No-no it's, it's not like that. I just want to make sure that you are comfortable tomorrow so I just wanted to discuss it beforehand."

"Oh that's really nice of you. Well honestly I'm always nervous before such scenes. Though it's partial nudity but still the scenes are quite passionate and vividly described."

"Don't worry I'll try my best to make it easy and comfortable for you."

"Thank you Tom."

"Pleasure is all mine." he smiled.

The next day on the set the director gave you the last minute reading of the scene that you are going to shoot. You and Tom walked in the frame. As per the script you guys play characters who are friends with benefits but both of you grow feelings for each other. When one confronts the other it leads to an angsty moment but soon turns into passionate love making.

The camera started rolling and as soon as the director said "action!". You both got into your characters and played your parts flawlessly as per the script.

"Why don’t you find someone who doesn’t hurt you?" You ask

"But I love you, Emma." Tom replies with a soft tone.

"Liam you don’t understand I was never good at this." You say with frustration in your voice.

"What.. talking?" He sarcasms.

"Yeah talking, communicating, relationships.." You were cut off as he captured your lips for a kiss.

"Well neither was I but we can figure it out slowly." his gaze was intense as your eyes were glassy.

The next thing you did was, crashed your lips to his. It had to be a very messy sloppy one so both of you rolled your tongues into each other’s mouth. You popped open the buttons of his shirt out of desperation and then pushed him onto the bed. Tom plopped on the soft mattress as you got up to straddle him around his waist pulling your sweatshirt off your body revealing your red lacy bra underneath. Tom let out a light gasp it wasn’t to happen but the whole act turned him on as he felt blood rushing down south. You carried on the act like a true professional and leaned on to his face capturing his thin lips. He deepened the kiss holding your face and you kept on grinding on his crotch. The kiss grew heavy then you were suddenly aware of the growing bulge underneath you but you continued anyhow 'he is a human getting aroused is normal' you kept on repeating that in your mind. His hand trailed up your back and unclasped your bra.

And with the scene coming to an end the director shouted "cut!"

"Well done you guys." The director praised. You pulled away and got off him as the costume runner handed you your robe to cover you up, you slipped it on and tied it around your body.

Tom's eyes never left you as you made your way back to your trailer to retouch your makeup and take a rest before the next scene starts. He was always known to be a professional but you made his mind go haywire. You on the other hand could only think about the scene, how you felt his hard on though it wasn't his fault it happens sometimes you reminded yourself.

After the unit packed up for the day you were on your way back to your car as you heard a car honking behind you. You stopped as the car pulled over and the windows rolled down.

"Need a ride?" Tom asked sweetly.

"No thanks, I have my own." You gave a tight lipped smile.

"C'mon it's been a hectic week for both of us we should really blow off some steam and I don't want to get drunk alone too."

"Okay." You gave in breaking into a smile. You sat in the front seat as he drove the car while you texted your manager Mike about your change of plans.

"So where are we going?" you ask.

"Just in and about the town.'' everything went silent again before Tom cleared his throat and began.

"Umm listen Y/N I'm.."

"It's okay Tom it happens sometimes I didn't mind anything." You cut him off saving him and you from the awkward conversation. He took you to a local pub and had a few drinks together. Later you got back into the car both of you totally buzzed. You were laughing about something as Tom kept staring at you.

"What?" you ask giggling. What came into his mind you don't know as he just straight up went to grab your face and kissed you, catching you off guard. You pushed him away, bewildered.

"Tom! What are you doing?!"

"Sorry, sorry, I-I just couldn't control myself. Ever since I saw you like that you are the only thing in my mind." he rambled.

"But that doesn't mean you can kiss me."

"Don't tell me you didn't like it." his voice low as he brought his hand to your cheek.

"Well.." Your words were stuck in your throat as your gaze dropped to his lips and you leaned forward to kiss him again fervently.

"Your place or mine?" He asked, pulling away gasping.

"Whichever is close." You said out of breath.

He never drove his car this fast the way he drove tonight to reach his apartment rented by the production company for him. You weren't even completely inside his apartment as he crashed his lips and pushed you against the door. You moaned into the kiss as he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom.

You woke up the next morning as the sunlight hit your face squinting your eyes open. You stir on the bed to find yourself tangled in bedsheets and in the arms of Tom.

"Goodmorning, love." His voice husky as he looks down at you with his soft brown eyes. You sit up abruptly holding the sheets to your chest wide eyed as you recollect the memories of last night. Mike your manager had always warned you that you should avoid getting into any kind of relationship with your costars. You are young and new to this industry, a good image is what you need right now.

"No, no, no this was a mistake. This should have never happened." You repent holding your head. Tom sits up holding your shoulders comfortingly.

"Hey-Hey it’s okay. Last night was really good.I understand you don't know me well and your career has just begun so you don't want a relationship but that doesn't mean we can't have a little bit of fun." saying so he went for a kiss but you pull away.

"That's not the point Tom! We are colleagues and I want to keep it that way. And this will never happen again. This will be the first and last." You made it clear and left his apartment.

🥀

However Tom made it a mission to tease the hell out of you on set. You would often find him subtly touching you whenever he got the chance, when you were sitting together his fingers lazily dancing around your thighs making you shiver as he flashed you a cocky grin because he is totally aware of what he is doing to you.

You reached your breaking point on the day you had to shoot another sex scene. The scene required minimal clothing. You would be just wearing your underwear and modesty patches to cover your breasts which will leave little to anyone's imagination. You took off your robe and lied down on the bed underneath the white covers Tom got on top of you in just his boxers. You licked your lips as you saw the prominent outline of his dick through the fabric which only reminded you of the night you slept together. He propped over you on his forearms a pillow kept between you.

As the director shouted 'action', Tom leaned down to kiss you, dragging his lips down your body, sucking on to your skin as he massaged your breast with his hand. He could feel your nipple harden through the patch as you began to let out small moans as per the script. The heat radiating from his body was so overwhelming you could just think of him railing you to the mattress. Heat pooled between your legs and you were thankful that there is a pillow separating you or else he would easily get to know how wet you are.

You closed your eyes, hands slipping on to his back letting out fake moans as he carried on rutting his hips on the pillow. Suddenly a chill ran down your spine when you felt two slender fingers brushing near your heat.

"Did I make you wet, darling?" he whispered, chuckling lowly into your ears. Your breath hitched as you felt your cheeks heat up but you had nothing much to do than just go on with the scene.

The scene ended as soon as the director said "cut!" And you were more than thankful as you quickly slipped into the robe. But you were hot and bothered as you exchanged glances as you both agreed to an unspoken agreement.

And a few agonising moments later you find yourself bent down gazing at your flushed out reflection with droopy eyes in the dirty mirror of one of the restrooms on set you both snuck into to relieve your sexual frustration. Your dress bunched up to your waist as Tom thrusted inside you hard and fast.

"Fuck darling! This feels so better when I actually get to fuck this pretty little pussy instead of wasting my energy humping a damn pillow." He grunted drawing back his hip to slam right into you as you jolted forward trying to keep yourself steady gripping on the edge of the marble.

"Fuck Tom!" you moaned. Your legs felt wobbly; knees on the verge of giving out as Tom’s hands expertly supported you. One of his hands slipped between your thighs rubbing circles stimulating your sensitive bud. You gasped at the added pleasure.

"Tell me sweetheart who is fucking you so well?" He asked cockily.

"You T-Tom you." you were finding it hard to form proper words.

"Damn right." he chuckles.

Just then there was a knock on the door. You squeaked in surprise and Tom immediately covered your mouth with his hand. You glared at him through the mirror.

"Miss Y/L/N?" It was your assistant Rebecca. Tom removed his hand from your mouth still going on with his menacing pace.

"What the fuck?!!" You seethed.

"You were being loud." he Whisper yells.

"Mam are you there?" She asked again.

"Yeah- yeah. What is it?" You stuttered.

"The next shot will be ready in half an hour. You need to go for your makeup."

"Okay .. ah i’ll be there in a few minutes." You tried to answer as energetically as possible.

"Mam are you okay?" she asked with concern in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just-just go I’ll be there." Tom had a smug grin plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes. His eyes darkened dripping with lust as he thrusted deep inside you again, hitting your spot as you moaned loudly but he pulled you back by your neck, capturing your lips messily muffling your moans. You felt him twitch inside you and you knew you weren’t far away. You heard Rebecca's receding footsteps as Tom increased his pace again tipping you off the edge you both came with a loud moan. His head dropped to the crook of your neck panting, brushing his lips on your sensitive skin. You hissed when he pulled out. He stepped away giving you some space to clean up while he chugged the condom in the bin and zipped his pants fixing his shirt.

"I’ll go out first and you come out later." He said running his fingers through his messy hair trying to tame them. You nodded trying your best to fix your dishevelled appearance.

🥀

This just became a regular thing for you guys sneaking out on the set to end up making out at the most odd places you could ever imagine. Sometimes in your trailers for a quickie.

One time you were making out at the back of your trailer Tom’s hands were roaming around all over your body as he blurted out of nowhere.

"I love you." You broke the kiss and raised a brow.

"You don’t need to show your fake love to get into my pants." Tom frowned.

"What? No I do love you Y/N"

"You’re joking right?" you gave a poker face.

"No Y/N, ever since I met you I fell for you instantly."

"Really?" Your eyes welled up in disbelief.

"Yes, love. I love you and will always love you."

"I love you too." You sealed your lips kissing softly, emotions running high.

You started to feel his presence even more around you after you confessed your feelings for each other. Your wardrobe now consists of half of his clothes which he leaves behind in your room every time he spends the night with you. He tells you he loves you but he is never there the next morning for you. He isn't ready to acknowledge the relationship between you because he says it isn't a good time. You are always dodging the prying eyes of the media.

Yes you were young, naive and trusted people way too easily that is why you didn't see the obvious red flags in your relationship.

🥀

The last scene for the movie was to be shot outdoors near a cliff. The location was picturesque as the last scene was shot of you and Tom kissing each other. After the shooting ended the director officially announced the wrapping up of the film. The crew hugged each other and indulged into a little celebration at the location itself. You went near the cliff soaking in the natural beauty reminiscing about how this was the best summer of your life where you found the love of your life when Tom walked up to you from behind. He brushed aside your hair placing a necklace with a heart shaped pendant around your neck. You let out a light gasp surprised heart swelling up at his loving gesture.

"This-this is beautiful Tom."

"I know, love. Only for the most beautiful woman. This will always remind you of our love."

He wrapped his arms around you as you overlooked the cliff watching the sunset with an orangish yellow hue. His phone buzzed as he took it out from his pocket and saw the caller id.

"I need to take this." He excused himself to take the call. You fiddled with your necklace admiring it and smiling to yourself. One of the runners brought you a bottle of beer you took it and the boy was about to go and give the other bottle to Tom but you stopped him.

"I’ll give it to him." You took the bottle from him and made your way where Tom was busy talking to whoever called over the phone.

"Yeah bye love you. Miss you too." You caught the last bit of his conversation.

"Girlfriend?" You joked startling him. For a moment he felt his breath caught in his throat, he gulped hard before chuckling nervously.

"I’ll be so damned to cheat on you. It was my cousin. Have to go back home, some urgent family work has come up."

"You will leave tomorrow only?" You pout.

"Sorry love." He brings his hand to your cheek.

"What about I go with you? I always wanted to meet your family, I mean my future family." Your eyes sparkled.

"Uh i don’t think that’s a good idea since we are not public yet." he fumbled.

"So let’s go public. You love me, I love you, what's the problem?"

"Ofcourse, love but not this time. Once I return from London we will make our relationship official I promise."

"What if you find a hot brit chick and forget about me?" you pout.

"I can never forget you. This face is worth remembering." he cradled your face lovingly.

"I really want to spend the last few moments with you before I go back."

"I'll keep my door unlocked.'' You winked.

At night Tom stood in front of your hotel room and as you had said the door was unlocked he smiled to himself sneaking into your room quietly. He was startled as you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in pinning him against the door pressing your lips to his.

"I’m gonna miss you so much." you say breathing heavily.

"Me too darling."

Pretty soon all your clothes were discarded as you now lay on your bed spread out for him while he pounds into you relentlessly.

"Oh fuck darling you always feel so good around me." He praises thrusting deeper inside you. You grab onto his back wrapping your legs around him. His phone buzzes several times on the bedside table but he was too invested in the pleasure he was getting being buried deep inside you so he decides to ignore it.

"So gorgeous." He purrs trailing his lips down your chest sucking on to your hardened nipples. Your body arches at his touch, your one hand reaching down to rub your clit.

"Yes rub that clit for me." He demands. You clench hard around him as you both reach your own highs. He collapsed on top of you burying his head in the crook of your neck as he pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder before pulling out and rolled over to your side. You turned to him resting your head on his chest. His phone buzzes again and he reaches to receive it but ends the call abruptly seeing the number.

"Who is it?"

"Oh it's no one, darling." He said, stroking your hair gently and pecking on your forehead wrapping you in his warm embrace. You nuzzle your face in his chest listening to his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

You woke up to an empty bed next morning. Tom had an early morning flight so maybe he didn’t want to wake you up you thought, giving yourself false hopes.

First two weeks he used to FaceTime you daily but soon it got limited to plain simple texts and suddenly all of it stopped. Two months went by and you didn't hear anything from Tom but still you kept your hopes high telling yourself he must be busy.

🥀

The time of the premiere for your film was approaching and you were over the moon with just the thought that you were finally going to meet him. At the night of the premier you were dolled up in one of your designer dresses, you decided to ditch your expensive diamond necklace to wear the necklace Tom gave you before leaving. You reached the venue and stepped out of your car as your eyes were flooded with the flashes from the cameras, you gracefully walked the red carpet a wide smile adorning your face. But it didn't last long.

You heard the crowd going frenzy chanting the name of the person you loved the most in this world. You turned around to look at him and froze. He wasn't alone, he had a woman in his arms as they smiled at the cameras. Your heart clenched when you saw the big rock shining on her ring finger. He got engaged and he brought in his fiancee to make the news public. So this was his emergency family work in London.

Tom looked around smiling when his eyes found you standing at a distance with a hardened gaze. His gaze dropped to his feet as a sense of guilt kicked in. You were disgusted and filled with hatred he left you, no he fucking lied to you and was cheating on you this entire time. You never wanted a relationship in the first place. He was the one who professed his love for you and you being the lovesick idiot believed him.

The cast was made to stand together for a group photo. You stood to the left of him. He couldn't dare to meet your eyes.

The movie began as you took your seats and tried focusing on the screen. Tom frequently stole glances of you as memories came flooding in. You caught him glancing at you and you could no longer take this betrayal anymore. He had imagined of getting married one day and starting a family but guess what it was true but just not with you. You informed Mike sitting beside you that you aren't feeling well, he arranged for you to leave. You got up in the middle of the movie and ran out of the auditorium. Tom saw that went after you.

"Y/N wait! Please don't go. Let me explain!" he shouted desperately.

You didn't listen as you ran towards your car with tears in your eyes. You got into it and drove past him as you saw his reflection in the rear view mirror desperately calling out to you. Tears pricked your eyes as you saw the necklace he gave you as a token of love dangling down your neck. You held the necklace and pulled it hard breaking the chain. You took a look at it for one last time and threw it out of the window in rage. You wailed inside the car crying your heart out. That night you made up your mind to only focus on your career no more distractions or false attachments. Your hard work has paid off because two years later you are now an internationally acclaimed star with a strong image, a role model for many and your fans adore you.

Though after that dreadful night you received a string of messages of apologies from Tom which went on for at least a month but you left all of them on seen. Recently he had started texting you again mostly they read 'I miss you', 'can we meet?' He even went on a liking spree on your Instagram account which fueled the rumors of you two possibly getting together. You decided to ignore all of it because you always wanted him to suffer the way you did. You wanted the memories of you to haunt him for eternity like a curse he can't get rid of.

Your car reaches Marvel's office as your bodyguard opens the door and you step out of the car you strut past the gates through the hallways to the room where the meeting was to be held. Your assistant walking by your side briefing you out about your today's schedule. You entered the room to find some of the big names in Hollywood already present and there was Tom too. This is the first time in two years you are finally meeting face to face. His eyes lit up instantly seeing you as he made his way to you enthusiastically.

"Hi Y/N"

"Oh hey Tom." you greeted him with a smile.

"So how are you?" he began but you didn't answer as your eyes were trained on the person behind him, a handsome blonde with icy blue eyes walking right your way.

"Hi Harrison Osterfield." He introduced himself.

"I know, you are playing my love interest and I must say you are totally worth it." You giggled.

"Well it’s my honor to be your love interest." he chuckled.

Tom just stood there as a mere spectator watching his best friend and you flirt with each other. You're totally lost in him, the only thought reeling in your mind.

Fuck he’s gorgeous…..

..................................................................................

(A/N : This crap came out of nowhere. Will I be writing a Harrison osterfield x Reader fic based on 'gorgeous'? who knows🤷‍♀️) Feedback and suggestions are always welcome.

Forever taglist: @starcoadrienette2 @hollanddolanfangirl

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland and y/n #tom holland and you #tom holland one shot #tom holland and reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #taylor swift

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stitch1830 · 3 years

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youve talked about the gaang witnessing softmom!toph, her parents witnessing it, but what about her coworkers? How would they react to her pregnancy with Lin, her maternity leave, and eventually, her coming back with a baby lin in her arms. How do they react when she does the same with sujin? What if they have to take care of the babie(s) while toph is in the field? i imagine that toph is the only woman in the force, and she has a good relationship with her coworkers.

Hi Anon, thank you for the ask! And yes yes yes I love this idea! :D

I must say I love thinking about this from two perspectives: one where Toph is a single mother, and the other where Kanto is in the picture. Both situations have really cute and funny (and angsty) scenarios to them, so I might dive into both if that's okay! :D

Single Mom Scenario: I see her coworkers being a little surprised, but supportive. They never really saw a guy in Toph's life that was super consistent, nor did she bring her dates to the station a lot. Her private life was just that. Private. But then after a few days where she showed up late and looking a little tired, she gathers the coworkers that she works with the most and is like "Listen up lily livers, because I'm only gonna say this once. I'm pregnant."

Everyone is like :O because they never really expected this, but they're surprised and excited and a little nervous for their boss. They try not to ask too many questions, but some of the officers that are closer to Toph than others learn a little more about the situation, but they still respect any boundaries she puts up. As time goes on and her belly gets bigger, they can't help but find their once menacing Chief looking rather... cute. She's grumpier than usual because she can't go into the field and she's slower than normal, but her colleagues are nice and understanding which is a relief to her. She spends a lot of time talking to the officers and being outside her office because otherwise she's way too bored lol! So it's a nice time for her to get to know the officers even more.

When she's on leave, they know what they're supposed to do, but they struggle to really focus because they kind of miss their Chief. She was a hardass, but she was still a great leader. But they go on with their days and try to get things done. One day, they have a visitor, though. Two visitors.

That's when they meet Lin and oh boy do the officers all fall in love with Baby Chief. She looks tiny even in Toph's arms, has a full head of hair, and her eyes are bright green like her mama's and she's an adorable baby. Toph lets some of the more responsible officers hold Lin, but everyone gets to see the little bundle of joy :D After that, they protect Baby Beifong as if she was their kid, and it makes Toph a little emotional thinking of the support system she has at work.

I would say the officers react similarly when they hear Toph is pregnant with Suyin, mainly joking around this time and saying "Again?" or "Another Baby Chief?" or "Not another Beifong to boss us around!" It's all in good fun, and Toph still appreciates the team's understanding and support. When they meet Baby Su, it's a very similar reaction to when they met Lin, but now they also get to play and joke with Lin while they see the baby.

If they ever had to babysit the girls, I'd imagine they'd rely on the team members that are actually parents and they're pretty good about keeping the girls entertained. I feel like the officers would be majority men, but I can also see a handful of metalbenders that are women and some are maybe even mothers themselves! That would certainly help ease some of the nervousness of taking care of the girls while Toph is out in the field (although it would be comical if it was just a bunch of single dudes trying to take care of Lin and Suyin for a bit lmao). But Toph seems like a pretty relaxed parent as long as she knows they're safe, and she knows her kids are safe with her officers. The team loved babbling with the girls when they were babies, and when they were older, they played a lot of cops and robbers around the precinct haha!

And now for a bit of self-indulging Kantoph scenarios.... :)

Toph and Kanto are super lovey dovey with each other around the officers, which is a drastic change to how they normally view their bosses. They're not sure whether they like the Chief and Deputy this way or when they were yelling at them LOL.

Per Kanto's orders, they keep a close eye on Toph and help her as much as she'll allow. I'd say it's not much and she complains about them hovering a lot, but their support is actually really nice whenever Kanto is out in the field.

In a scenario where Kanto dies before Lin is born, the officers keep a close watch on Toph and relay important information to the Gaang because she's so sad. They do their best to give her the support she needs, but the wound is still so fresh and they have no idea how they can truly help her when everything about work reminds her of Kanto.

The same thing would happen if he dies after Lin is born. They try to help in their own way, but a lot of them would also be grieving, so perhaps, they try to grieve with Toph 0-0.

And it becomes bittersweet whenever they see Lin at the office, because she looks a lot like Kanto, and it makes them miss their boss and friend...

Okay! I think that covers the question. Thank you so much for the ask, Anon! Always love talking about Toph, mama Toph, and incoming baby Beifongs :') Feel free to stop by again, I'll be here all day answering asks and writing. Hope you have a great day!

......

Send me asks about ATLA, or anything, really! :D

#toph #toph beifong #lin #lin beifong #suyin beifong #kanto #kantoph #atla #lok #headcanons #my asks #thanks for the ask!#anon #don't mind me i'm in my mama toph feels again #toph beifong loving hours #because let's be real it is LOL

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years

Text

His Mistress - Series Finale

Warning: 18+ smut, mentions of cheating, coarse language, mature themes.

Author’s Note: I am terrible at ending stories because I never want them to end. The ending I initially wrote wasn’t good enough, so I started again until I felt it was right. I’ll keep it brief, but I want to thank all the readers who fueled this crazy fire and inspired me to flesh out a dark love story that I’m proud to say I wrote. I’ll miss Mr. Deaver and all the smutty, angsty, drama of his life with his mistress. Thanks for tolerating the never-ending POV shifts and filling my inbox with love and support for the story and for me. You guys are the BEST. I’m forever grateful!

I hope you enjoy the 9K series finale. It’s been a slice!

Henry X Mistress Masterpost [x]

Henry's company held an office party to bid farewell the building that had brought them growth and success over the last few years. Once again expanding, the company added a brand new customer-relations department, a slew of employees fresh out of university and interns to fill in the gaps. The celebration took place on the evening of their last workday and boasted live entertainment and enough luxurious fare for each employee and their loved ones. They rented a bouncy castle and ball pit for the kids and set up an open bar next to two seminar tables' worth of catering.

It wasn't only a farewell party for the company, but the first time Henry showed off his girlfriend in front of his colleagues and employees. Word of Henry's divorce had already made its rounds, his colleagues begging for gory details after the documents were signed and filed. Rumours fluttered in and out of ears and mouths, but never while Henry was in the room—Henry had cheated on his wife with a coworker, Henry screwed the cleaning lady and his wife caught him in the act, Henry picked up a venereal disease, and poor Mary. The speculation rose tensions, but like all rumours, faded into irrelevancy once news of the company move surfaced. People forgot all about Henry's ugly divorce for the next round of gossip. Word of his mistress died down.

Although the tension had mostly evaporated, she felt eyes crawling on her when she showed up on Henry's arm. Of course, everyone recognized her—she was the secretary for a time, the only line to get an opening with Mr. Deaver. She had spent months parked next to his office, taking his appointments, booking his days, answering his phone. They remembered, and they leaned into the nearest ear to whisper, "I knew it all along."

If Henry noticed the curiosity, he chose to ignore it, but she couldn't. She felt every woman in the place wringing her silently, scrutinizing her moves, her hand in Henry's. People who knew Mary tended to side with the older woman, and the nattering reinstated in hushed exchanges. She was alone at the party save for Henry, but he could only guard her for so long before his colleagues whisked him into conversations littered with business jargon that lost her attention.

Still, she clung to his hand, and once in a while, Henry would break from stock discussions to turn in for a kiss. He surrounded her ears with his fingers, tilting her face up so he need not crouch just to show some affection. When he buried her mouth with his, she savoured the taste of wine, the power in becoming the first lady, the stares from Henry's subordinates.

Henry pulled back an inch, staring drunkenly, though he'd only had one glass of pinot noir, and nipped her bottom lip. "Having a good time, sweetheart?"

"Sure. I love catching all the cattiest office workers glaring."

Henry smirked as though he too tasted a dollop of satisfaction from the envy. "You know what I say to that?"

"What?"

"Fuck them," Henry whispered.

She feigned a gasp, swatted his shoulder, and he pulled her even closer. "Gosh, you look beautiful. I want to undress you later and do all the things they're thinking about me doing to you."

"My, my, Henry. You better take it easy on the vino."

"I'm not tipsy. I'm excited."

She checked his pockets for bulges, hoping Henry's intentions weren't to propose in front of all these near-strangers. The lines of his suit were smooth, and when she hugged him, she only felt his cellphone, wallet and keys, no ring box. She sighed with relief and sweltered under another one of his long kisses. He moaned against her, stroked her neck and back until she interrupted him to say, "Jesus, Henry. What's with the PDA?"

"I'm sorry. I just don't care anymore. Let 'em look."

"Easy, tiger. You're the star of the show. People want to talk to you without lipstick all over your face."

"Mm, I'd fuck you right now if I could," said Henry.

She squeezed his shoulders, holding him off for a moment before he swooped in for another peck. "Okay, okay, I'm done. For now."

"Don't make me spank you when we get home," she warned, mouth curved in jest.

"I'll behave," he assured.

With children running about, the catering service making rounds in the nearly empty office space, more employees and their significant others piling in by the minute, it was easy to get lost in the bustle. Henry's colleagues whisked him away into a conversation she had no business understanding, leaving her stranded, drink in hand, smoothing out the wrinkles in her blouse to distract herself from her friendless reality. None of Henry's employees came to talk to her. She stood alone, a flag on a pole reminding everyone that Henry had upgraded in every way. Some people went by, nodding respectfully, while others bypassed her like a piece of furniture.

Just when she felt the pressure behind her eyes saying she was tired, Frank stepped out of the elevator with his wife and two boys. The children bolted for the bounce house, leaving their bickering parents in their dust. Frank travelled through the crowd rolling his eyes and sneering at his wife, who looked upset about something, but retracted her frown as soon as a colleague's wife greeted her. The loud businessman honed in on Henry, and she watched her helpless boyfriend go limp when the man slung his meaty arm around his shoulders, thumping his back with a ham hock fist.

She mused over Henry's embarrassment as Frank launched into a story designed specifically to draw attention to him in the worst way. Frank's baritone floated above the music, and soon, others gathered to listen to the man tell the story of how Henry got too wasted on sake on a business trip to Japan because he didn't want to seem rude to the host and didn't know how to decline.

"This fuckin' guy—pardon my French—is rolling on the floor in his hotel room, has ten minutes to get dressed and downstairs for the conference, but can't even hold his head up straight. How many did you have, Henry, seven? Eight?"

Henry blanched, shaking his head. "Eight, yeah, I think that's about right."

"You've never seen a guy so drunk in your life! He did the conference, slurring the entire time, stumbling over his shoes, but the folks loved it! Didn't they, Deaver? You really got their attention when you started hiccoughing between every word."

"Different times. We were younger. We were boys."

"Ah, yeah. Young and dumb. Now, look at you! Much older now and just as dumb, eh?"

The gaggle surrounding Henry burst into laughter and carried on as Frank surrendered his grip. She tried to picture Henry staggering, too drunk to string together a sentence, but couldn't imagine him as anything less than poised. The image reminded her of the conversation she had with Mary in the parking garage. Before the divorce had been finalized, Mary told her Henry had done questionable things abroad with his colleagues. Frank's story, although comical and meant as a harmless jab, filled her with suspicion.

Henry had denied the accusation that he cheated before that night he invited her up to his hotel room. With desperation on his face, he vowed on his love for her that he was never unfaithful, barring their affair. She believed him, with reluctance, and stowed it away in her mind with the rest of Mary's dubious claims. Now that stories of shenanigans and unprofessional conduct were in circulation, she tried not to let her suspicions gain traction.

The night played on, and as more of the families left to put their hyper children to bed, the heads of business brought out the top-shelf Scotch and sat around picking at sandwich trays and hors d'oeuvres. Frank caught Henry's assistant-turned-girlfriend in his cross-hairs and approached her with a drink in hand. Red-faced and loud as ever, Frank asked her why she wasn't enjoying herself.

She cleared her throat and offered her best smile. "I am having fun. I just don't have a rich enough history with the company to offer any entertaining stories."

"Oh, come now. You were Henry's assistant for months! You don't have anything to share about banging the boss?"

Frank's announcement only fell on her ears, but it was enough to make her blush and want to escape. He apologized and sidled up to her, clinking his whiskey tumbler with her wine glass.

"Gotta get you a refill, Whaddaya say, toots?"

"I'm fine for now," she said. "I offered to drive home."

"That's right. You two live together now in that little condo."

She blinked, unsure of how anyone might think of the condo as little, then realized she was standing among wealthy men whose homes spanned acres, who owned Summer cottages bigger than the average townhouse.

"I gotta say, Deaver's got that colour back in his face since he started on with you, doll. What do I gotta do to get me a woman like that? He's a whole new man. Is that all it takes is a nice, young honey to roll back the decades? I bet the old bastard gets it up just fine. Just fine."

"Thank you, Frank. I'll try to sift through that to find a compliment," she scoffed and sipped her wine.

"Aw, I mean it with love, darlin', you know that. Ol' Franky just talks, right? I don't mean any harm. Maybe I come from a place of envy, who knows? Not every day a dry old fella gets his hands on something pretty as you. I can see you're good for him. He sure smiles a helluva lot more! Christ, can't chisel the grin off that face. Loopy as a damn circus clown since you came around."

"Really?" She tittered.

"I'm serious. Shit, when Henry was with Mary, you couldn't pay the guy to crack a joke. Now, he's nothing like the shlub I met all those years ago."

She ran her finger along the glass rim as Frank droned on, her eyes on Henry across the room. He had been having a good time, his cheeks aglow with cheeriness. She'd never seen Henry interact with his coworkers for more than a quick trip in and out of the conference room to deliver him a printout or progress report. Tonight, Henry hadn't complained about people talking his ear off. Even after Frank's unflattering account of one of his rare blunders, he hadn't whined or wished they could sneak out unseen. Henry was at ease.

"He's planning on proposing to me soon," she said.

Frank cocked his head and rose his glass. "Here's to hoping he makes the right decision, and quick, before you realize you can do better!"

She clinked glasses with Frank once more, and while he drained his whiskey, she set her glass down on a table nearby.

"I was wondering what his coworkers might say about him remarrying."

"Anything to get him away from that soul-sucking ice queen of an ex-wife."

"Frank? Can I ask you something and get a sincere answer?"

Frank read her serious tone, shifted his brows and angled in, unaware of his alcohol-laden breath fanning over her face. "Anything, love. Franky tells no lies. That's what they say. With me, it's pure honesty."

"I heard a rumour about Henry in Thailand. Somebody said he cheated on Mary. Do you know anything about this? I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into, being young and all. I don't want to end up wasting my best years with a man who might cheat on me down the road."

Frank scoffed, slapped his leg and howled. She waited for him to wipe an invisible tear from his eye, hoping nobody asked what was so funny.

"Oh, doll. You can't believe all the rumours you hear in this place. Thailand... Shit, that was so long ago. I can hardly remember what happened. It's true, we did some partying, but when in Rome, right?"

She grimaced as Frank went on, "Ol' Deaver never left his hotel room on that trip. Me 'n a couple of our work buddies cruised around, got ourselves into a little trouble, but not Henry. He spent the whole week hunched over his laptop, putting last minute touches on some PowerPoint crap—never was good with computers, myself. And don't get me wrong, there were offers made during dinners—generous offers. You know the type. They like to show their hospitality. But Henry was the professional. We call him Dad since he's always keeping us in line. Even us old guys, eh? No, no... Company is rock solid 'cause of him. We told Deaver a million times to drop the ball 'n chain, but the kid stuck it out, he really did."

"Am I stupid to marry him?"

"Doll, I think if you want someone to treat you right, it's my man, Henry Deaver. The Kid can't contain himself. And who could? He's a lucky man, really fortunate to have a dish like you."

"Oh, stop," she gestured at the opposite corner of the cleared out office space where the wives gathered. "You know, if I marry Henry, I'll have to join the wives' club and stand over there with Phyllis and Dorothy."

Frank beamed at her. She decided not to loathe the man for his praise, both for her and Henry. He was a bumbling idiot at times and unfiltered, but she had seen much worse. Before the corporate job with all the nice clothes and gadgets she used to pine for while browsing fashion websites, she worked her food service job. With every type of asshole and gentleman coming through the hotel bar, Frank was the loudmouth who'd changed her mind on Henry Deaver.

"You're a different kind, ain'tcha? I bet Deaver has his hands full with you."

Warm, wine-drunk confidence slid off her tongue, "Oh, I keep him busy."

"I'll kill him if he doesn't marry you, kid."

"I'm sure you will."

"That's Frank's Guarantee."

She tipped glasses with him once more and excused herself to use the washroom. The night was drawing to a close, and she enjoyed the quiet of the bathroom and its 3 stalls. Many times she had retreated to the washroom to text Henry while he was in his office. She couldn't risk getting caught exchanging dirty messages with the boss, so when she wanted to make him blush, she snuck off to the lady's room. Many nude photoshoots happened in the safety of the last stall on the right, and all of them fed to Henry's phone at inopportune times—mostly during meetings or video calls with clients across the world. Now, she laid her head against the cool metal and thought of marrying Henry.

Back then, falling in love with him was forbidden, tingly, like a shot of alcohol at an inappropriate hour that she hoped nobody could smell on her breath. Now, it was pure. There were no more walls, no need to hide in the stall to talk to him. Henry was hers, and everyone knew it.

Henry waited for her by a stack of chairs. Behind him, the catering company was clearing away serving trays, stacking cups and folding tablecloths. The band had long since packed up, and anyone with children had taken them downstairs to the shuttles the company had arranged to drive them home.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey, indeed. How're you doing? I thought I saw you getting along with Frank." Henry chuckled. "What was up with that? I thought you hated him."

"I don't hate him. Maybe I wasn't keen on him hitting on me back at the hotel, but I think he's smartened up. As uncouth as he may be... He has your back and cares about the company."

"He's the drunk uncle of the business."

"You'll have to teach him some manners, though. One day, you'll have a female big-wig to schmooze, and she might not take kindly to pet names."

Henry's eyes bugged as he nodded. "Frank doesn't get to talk to the women in the industry, and don't worry, I'll whip him into shape."

"Hm, is that why they call you the company dad?" She asked, tracing one finger down Henry's lapel. "You just keep everyone in line, don't you? Lay down the law. Tell all those silly men how to act."

Henry shivered as her hand travelled lower, coasted over the front of his pants while nobody was looking. He puffed his chest, a crafty look taking over his visage. He snatched her wandering hand and stepped closer, eclipsing her as he slouched over to whisper in her ear.

"Yeah, I'm the Daddy around here."

"Is Daddy ready to head home soon?"

"Let's say our goodbyes, then we'll get out of here. Come on."

Henry gave her directions that took them in the opposite direction of home. When she questioned him, he patted her thigh, assuring there was a surprise waiting at the end of the line. She tried to pry it from him while they cruised the highway in the dark. The radio played low while Henry tried changing the subject.

"Where am I going?" She asked.

Henry pointed ahead. "Get off at the next exit."

The roads narrowed, and the street lamps spread farther apart outside of the city. She slowed the car, flipped on the high beams and guided Henry's BMW over gravel hills. There were houses along the quiet strip of country line, but they were hidden behind spruce and maple trees.

"Henry, we're so far from home. I'm tired. Please tell me what we're doing."

He pointed at a driveway tucked behind a line of birch and a dented metal mailbox standing crookedly on the side of the road. "Down there. It's close now, don't worry."

They curved through a loose gathering of evergreens and pulled up to a sprawling ranch house with a double garage and topiaries along the sides. The place was dark, but a motion light illuminated the paved driveway as she pulled up and parked. Henry pulled a set of keys from his pocket and exited the vehicle. He waited for her to catch up, breath turning to vapour in the crisp night air.

"Care to explain what we're doing at some random house?" She asked.

Henry took her hand and guided her toward the front door. In the dark, she sailed by the realtor's sign and stepped onto the first stone slab leading to the front door. She watched Henry fiddle with a key, shove it into the lock and turn the handle. The door opened with a whoosh, the scent of fresh paint and lacquered wood spilling out of the massive wooden door. Henry hit a switch, and fractals of light exploded from a chandelier on high in the foyer.

"Check this out. It's so open in the center, you could drive a truck through to the backyard. And the kitchen! Oh, you gotta see the kitchen. It's lovely," Henry said as he grabbed her hand and led her through the house. "All stainless steel and marble. The island is bigger than our bed! And come this way, down here."

They journeyed down an echoing hall, footsteps casting off the hardwood floors and glass light fixtures. Henry threw open a door and ushered her inside a furnished bedroom. A sleigh bed domineered the far end of the room, all dark wood, plush duvet and pillows.

"I know you're not keen on beige, which is fine. We'll paint it. But, look at this bed! And this window overlooks the backyard—Well, I wouldn't say 'yard.' It's more of a...field. Look, look, look!"

"Henry, what is this?" She asked, peering out the window at the blackness beyond the dim orange halo of the bedroom light.

When she turned back around, Henry placed his hands on her hips, excitement simmering. He smiled, wry and lustful, and bent down to kiss her.

"Isn't it obvious? This is our house."

"What are you saying?" She gasped. "You bought this place?"

"Mhm. I've had my eye on it for a long time."

"And just how long exactly were you planning on keeping this a secret?"

"Only until I bought it."

"Henry!"

He jingled the keys in his pocket. "Well, you can't just walk into a place that's not yours."

Suddenly, she realized Henry had put this in motion weeks before, masked it under the search for a new office building. Realtors had rung Henry's phone off the hook, and she had answered them all, oblivious to his underlying motive. When it clicked, she dropped her jaw and swatted him playfully.

"I can't believe you. Right under my nose!"

"It was good timing."

"But...why? What's wrong with the condo?"

Henry guided her to the room's centre beneath the carnival glass light fixture that had to go, along with the drab paint job. "Nothing is wrong with the condo. It's just not ours. There are too many memories preventing me from letting go of the past. I want to let it all go, but I can't when I look around and remember where I was just a year and a half ago. It served me well as a place to escape, but now, I don't need to hide. I want new memories. I want to walk outside with my coffee and see you in the backyard, doing whatever you want—gardening, reading, lounging. I want to pull up after a long day at work, see this place, and know that you're inside, all of our things, our memories, our smells."

"And what if I hate it?" She asked, stifling a giggle.

"Then I'll sell it, and we'll find a new place."

"I don't hate it, Henry, but...This was such a risk."

"It paid off. I knew you'd like it. It's the perfect combination of vintage and modern. The structure is old and strong, but the renovations give it that modern class. It's like that chalet we stayed at in Sweden. Remember?"

"Of course, I remember. We didn't leave bed for two days."

Henry smiled fondly at the memory and stroked her hair back, smiling with her in his arms. She laid her cheek on his chest and breathed in a contented sigh.

"There are two offices, one for me and one for you. Two other bedrooms. One for guests and one for a kid."

She looked up at him, and all the playfulness fled from his eyes. He kissed her to avoid the inevitable questions. When will we see a doctor? What is the plan if we can't conceive? They didn't need answers, only trust that whatever battles stretched on, they would meet them hand-in-hand.

"I can't wait," she whispered. "I love you. And I love this house."

"There's one more thing," Henry cleared his throat and stepped away from her. "It's kind of important."

"What is it?"

"I'm old, babe."

"Henry, you're not that old."

"I'm an old man. I'm head of a multi-national company, y'know. I wear suits and talk to people who hemorrhage money day in and day out. I like to style myself as a professional."

She cocked her head, wondering where Henry was going with his monologue.

"It's awkward when people ask me about you, and I have to refer to you as my girlfriend. Guys like me aren't supposed to have girlfriends. It just sounds creepy. Plus, you're so much more to me than that. You're not my girlfriend; you're the love of my life. My soulmate. My queen. I want you to be my partner."

"Henry—"

He cut her off and fetched something from the table next to the bed. When he rejoined her in the middle of the room, he bent at the knee and presented her with the ring box she had already seen, yet she fluttered as though it was the first time.

"Baby... I could have flown you to a tropical island or put this in a glass of champagne. I could have done this in front of everyone at the party tonight, but all of that seemed silly. Don't get me wrong, I still want to take you to every corner of the world and give you all the nicest things, but I wanted to propose to you in our house, just you and me. So... Will you quit being my girlfriend and become my wife instead?"

Henry separated her ring finger from the rest and slid the band down to the knuckle as she blotted her sobs with the other hand, nodding and fighting joyful tears.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" She asked as he rose to his feet and clamped her in a bone-cracking hug.

"I know I'm clever! You thought I would propose to you in front of all those people? No way."

"You hate being the center of attention."

"That's right. And although I want to shout it from the rooftops, I thought you'd prefer me asking you to marry me someplace quiet."

She gazed at the stone glittering on her finger, and a fresh wash of tears wet her cheeks. "I'm marrying you... You're going to be my husband."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to skip fiance altogether and get right to the wife thing."

"You're my husband."

"You're my wife!"

"We're getting married!"

"That's right," Henry beamed. "And we move in next month."

Breathless, she ripped her eyes off the ring and looked up at the man who gave it to her. She threw her arms around his neck, pressed her face into the column of his throat and breathed in the scent of old hotels, of pastry and coffee and drying ink on newspaper. She had a vision of him seated at a table across the room, smiling in her direction, tapping his silver pen on the spine of his planner. Two eyes, one green and one brown, drinking her in like fine wine, full of secrets and passion, indulgence and guilt. Her good Christian boy who was anything but pure or chaste.

"I'll worship you until I die, you know that, right?"

"Henry, I can't. You're making me cry. There's probably mascara all over my face!"

"I don't care," he pressed the words to her temple, swaying in languid step. "You'll never be rid of me. Think about that."

"I believe you, Henry."

His eyes flooded and no amount of squeezing suffocated the tears. The streams met the cuff of his suit jacket. He questioned why he still wore the suit and slipped out of it as her hand tugged his tie. Leash in hand, she pulled his face to her level and touched the tears coasting his cheeks, brushed her thumb over the scar two inches from the lips she kissed.

"Are you sure you want to marry me?"

"Shut up."

"I'm serious."

"And I'm telling you to shut up, Henry. Don't ask those kinds of questions."

"I just can't believe you're mine."

"That's right. So stop wondering if I'll change my mind. I've had many opportunities to reconsider. I stuck it out through times I should have walked out, and now we're standing in this gigantic house, and there's a ring on my finger... And you still think I'll back out?"

"I hope not. You're everything I've wanted my whole life. I have it all. Now I can spend the rest of it happy."

"I love you," she whispered against his bottom lip.

Henry crouched, circled her hips with his arms and carried her to the bed, murmuring, "I love you, too, baby. So much."

"Are we gonna fuck right here?"

"Right here, right now," said Henry, perching her on the bed so he could work open the buttons of his dress shirt. She lifted her legs, slipped off her heels, then wrestled her blouse off. The struggle to undress ended with their tops off, Henry standing with his knees pressed into the plush mattress, between her legs. He ran his hands up and down her thighs, nylon sighing between skin as he stroked.

"I didn't think I'd make it out of the office without fucking you. Gosh, you looked so good in that outfit. All those guys were looking at you... Especially when you dropped your phone and bent over to pick it up. That fabric stretching over your ass. You should've seen 'em staring."

"You think they're jealous of you?" She asked as Henry bunched her skirt around her hips, revealing satin and lace panties pasted to her crotch with arousal. His palm traversed her thigh, paused at the edge of the panties. He sent out two fingers to stroke the stitching along her groin, satin running like water across the tips. Henry wanted to take his time, but she was restless. He subdued her with a kiss.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm in control tonight, and I want to feel and lick and taste every inch of your body before I even get my pants off, understand?"

She returned his sly look and rolled onto her stomach, parting her legs so he could admire the shiny material ruched between her cheeks.

"To answer your question... Yes. Of course, they're jealous."

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

Henry snickered, like a bully cornering his prey. "Those old bastards can't keep their mouths shut. Even when you were my employee, they'd hound me for details... Ask if you were single, if I was tapping you, if I'd thought about it. I'm not one to boast, but they all knew. Henry Deaver doesn't kiss and tell, but then you'd come in and smile at me like just an hour before I was balls-deep in your pussy... Like my cum was still dripping down your thigh. They knew. We weren't as covert as we thought."

"It's that naughty little smile of yours that gives it away. You flashed me that same smile a few times at the hotel, and I just thought maybe you didn't realize how seductive you looked. But you know, don't you? You know what you do to me. How hard you can make me with just one look."

Henry lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed her ankle as he squeezed the sole of her foot, admiring the coloured polish on her toenails peeking out of the semi-opaque stockings.

"I do enjoy getting you worked up, sir."

"Let's not tonight. I'm supposed to make love to you, not treat you like my office pet. I'm marrying you, for fuck's sake."

"Then make love to your future wife. That doesn't mean I can't be your slut anymore."

"Oh, my God," Henry growled.

"Look at what I'm wearing for you. I know how much you love the way my pussy looks wearing this fabric. Thigh-high stockings aren't practical, but I figured you might fuck me in your office one last time, and I wanted to torment you."

"Not so predictable now, huh?"

She simpered and ran her toe in a line down his chest and didn't stop until she grazed his belt buckle. "Yeah, and you've been thinking about filling me up all night."

Henry grasped her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed to meet his groin. He gathered her up in his arms, pressing his entire weight on her frame as he kissed her desperately. When her legs grew weak, he clamped them around his hips and undulated. Hardness strained against her crotch, pulsing from the heat between her legs.

"You're right. I've been aching to fuck you. How long has it been? Gosh, this week has been so busy, I've hardly had any time alone with you. And you've been occupied with your new job. It's been a while since I've come."

She made a coo of sympathy. "Aw, my poor baby. You're probably so sensitive."

"I want you to do something for me," Henry muttered, adjusting his crotch, then giving up and undoing his belt and pants altogether. "I'd love it if you sucked my cock."

"Oh, Mr. Deaver asking for a blowjob? A rare sound to my ears."

He shook his head, grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed to kneel on the floor. With feet spread wide, his fingers tangled in her hair, Henry waited for her to make the first move. His view of her from on high was angelic. In the prismatic light, her eyes twinkled, and he thought of whiskey in a glass, poured by a dangerous woman he'd grown to admire. She always wore a smile, but for the right person, that smile turned luscious and dim. Her eyes would relax on him, soothe him, delight if he made small conversation instead of only demands.

Henry did not demand, but as her smiling lips tightened around the midway-point of his cock and sank, he couldn't help aiding the way to her throat with one firm thrust. "Oh... Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," he droned.

"You can use my mouth, sir."

"Just suck that dick like a good girl. Do your magic on me, baby."

With free reign, she slathered his shaft with her tongue, side-to-side, up and down. She met his eyes and smiled, the tip nestled between her puckered lips. Her grasp on the base sent waves of hot blood pumping through the veins, filling him out entirely.

"I can't wait to feel this big cock pumping my pussy full of cum."

"Oh, I know, baby. We'll get there. For now, I need your mouth. All over me, please. Balls too. Come on... Eat that cock, you hungry little slut."

She chased Henry up on the bed where she could kneel between his legs in comfort. Henry enjoyed the position, too—back against a mound of pillows, his long legs spread to the lower corners of the bed, her crumpled form nestled between his thighs while her lips and tongue worked in a circuit on his length. He leaned his head back, arms thrown over the pillows. In this position, Henry bucked his hips a few times to touch his tip to her tonsils. Each time she brought up a wave of saliva that coated him and made it easier for her to slide down.

"What about that ass, big boy?" She asked after popping up from a harsh series of head-bobbing. "I know how much you love it when I play with that pretty hole of yours."

Henry sucked air in through his teeth, chin dimpling and lashes fluttering. "Mmph, not tonight. I want that pussy. Yeah, I wanna taste you."

They flipped positions. Henry pulled her onto her back away and snatched one of the pillows to wedge under her tailbone. With both hands, he hooked the back of her knees and spread her thighs wide, elevating her pelvis until his breath stroked the front of her panties. Henry nipped the fabric, pulled it into a tent and let it snap back against her lips. He nuzzled it, faint stubble scratching the delicate fabric. She let out a gentle sigh, a whimper of lust. Henry kissed the satin once, twice harder, then a third time like he'd met her mouth in a fevered touch.

She watched his long fingers sneak the fabric away, how he made shapes with his mouth like he wanted to say something but lost his voice. Henry bit his lip, kissed where he knew her clit was hiding, then prodded her folds with a long lick. He repeated the motion on the right side, along her labia, and again on he left side.

For a while, he would only meet the crest of her entrance with light kisses and whispered promises.

"Do you like it when I tease your pussy? Giving you just enough to make you wet, but not as much as you need?"

"Henry, please," she begged.

"Please, what?"

"Please give me more!"

"More of this?" Henry asked, ghosting his breath over her clit.

"No more teasing."

"You sure?"

She clutched some of his hair and pouted. He chuckled, laid his cheek on her thigh and brought his hand up between her legs. "What if I'm not done teasing? What if I want to torment you a little longer?"

He spread open her lips, applying pressure on both sides. She could almost grind against his fingers if he didn't have her at his mercy, arched over a pillow, thighs splayed wide and vulnerable. Henry tapped her clit with three fingers, stippling with gooseflesh from the wet noises the pads made on her vulva. "Oh, I love that sound," he sang. "You're so wet for me."

"Please, sir. I need your mouth."

"Is that right? Well, you've been so good and helpful. I'm sure I can give you what you want... but you have to promise me something."

"Yes, yes, I will. Anything."

"Promise you'll tell me before you come?"

"Uh-huh. I promise."

"Okay, I trust you. Don't get too close. I have other plans for your pussy."

She groaned out loud, relieved when he finally licked her clit. His tongue was a warm blanket, weighted and placed perfectly on top. He undulated the muscle, coaxing out the sensitive parts for adoration. That's how she described his attention in her mind. When Henry ate her out, it was like he'd infiltrated her head and knew the precise amount of pressure, the proper motions, when to flicker his tongue and when to envelope her clit between his lips. He kissed, sucked, lapped and moaned like a symphony, only opening his eyes once in a while to catch her staring in awe between her legs.

"Mm, baby," Henry moaned against her slit. "I can feel you getting close already. Don't go over the edge."

"I'm sorry, you just look so good eating my pussy."

Henry pulled off her, smirking, letting her glimpse his full lips shining in their glory. She couldn't stop herself from lunging for him. The taste of her own fluid on his mouth set off a carnal urge to feel his cock too. She told him to fuck her hard, to spank her ass and make her squeal like a knifed animal. She wanted that deepness, the full stretch as his thighs bounced her up and down. They laid on their sides, and Henry entered her from behind, arm hooking her leg up so he could gaze over at her exposed breasts, her glistening clit forgotten for a moment too long. In his clutches, she was helpless, and Henry used his advantage to squeeze and rub her until more of her liquid soaked between their groins.

"Can you come like this?" Henry puffed next to her ear. "If I rub your clit like that and keep fucking you, can you come?"

"Yes," she peeped. "Yes, keep going."

"Yeah? Gonna come like a good girl all over this dick?"

Again, she nodded, biting down on her lip in concentration.

"'Cause I'm gonna shoot so much fucking cum inside you, but only after you get all tight around me."

She begged him not to stop, to never stop being hers. Henry rushed his movements until she bucked once, legs fighting to fold inward.

"Is that it? That spot right there?" Henry asked. "Keep rubbing you just like this?"

He didn't need an answer; it was written all over her flushed face, denting her lip where her teeth bore down. Henry exerted every inch of stamina he had in his body until her muscles seized hard enough to snap. Mewling as she came, Henry didn't stop pestering her clit with his fingertips or pull out after he emptied as deep inside as he could fit. He gathered her up in his arms, locking fingers and lips, breathing each other's air. Pieces of his hair clung to his sweat-dampened forehead while he pulsed and shivered.

"I need you to get your panties on right away. We can't leave a mess behind."

"Are you serious?"

Henry nodded his head, unperturbed by the alarm in her tone. "Well, it's not our stuff. It's staging furniture. I just convinced the realtor to let me surprise you tonight. She probably didn't think I'd be fucking you in any of the bedrooms."

"Henry! I'm not sure where you slung my underwear."

He pushed into her one last time and grunted. "Aw, honey, mm. That's where my cum belongs."

"You're such a bad man," she giggled.

"I know I'm dirty."

"Come on, husband. Help me find my clothes. We should get back before we both fall asleep and someone finds us like this."

They gathered themselves, sighing and stretching the tension from their muscles as they dressed and took one more look around the property. She saw the house in a warm light now, as a place they could fill with memories, starting in the master bedroom where Henry proposed. He held her hand as they drove to the condo and flung themselves into bed, drained from the night's givings but wrapped in each other's arms.

The next morning, she woke to the smell of pancakes cooking on a griddle. Henry was up, two coffees deep, and buzzing from cupboard to cabinet, humming under his breath. He lit up when he caught her motion in the corner of his eye and went in for a long hug.

"Good morning, wife."

"Morning, husband," she replied, cheeks and chest prickling.

"Pancake buffet?" Henry gestured at the kitchen island.

"It's not even Christmas!"

Henry scoffed. "Who needs a special occasion to have a pancake buffet?

"I suppose I can't complain," she said.

She sat at the island, studying the foreign object around her ring finger every once in a while. When she made a fist or spread her hand, the rock sparkled and delighted her eyes. Henry caught her staring at the ring and smiling as he launched into the day's trajectory, his plan falling on deafened ears.

"Hello?" Henry waved the spatula. "Are you home?"

She sat up straight and folded her hands. "Yes. Sorry. I was distracted."

"I was saying I have to go into the office today, but only for an hour or two. Are you okay with hanging around here by yourself while I take the car? Can you believe the Beamer is still in the shop? They say take the damn thing into the dealership, we'll fix it up for free, but we'll keep it for half the week."

"Oh, well, I was supposed to pick up groceries, but I can wait."

Henry's eyebrows popped up. "Oh, no. No, no, honey. That's all right. I'll find another way there."

"Why don't I drive you to the office? Unless...You're not actually going to the office?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Henry asked.

"I don't know...You could be exacting another one of your famous covert plans and covering it up by saying you're going to the office. How do I know?'

Henry tipped his head back and laughed as he tended the food sizzling on the stovetop. "Oh, sweetheart. No. I promise, no more tricks for a while."

"Sure," she said with a sly edge on her tongue.

"You can drop me off and take the car. It's nothing secretive, I swear."

Henry piled the last pancakes onto a plate, turned off the griddle and wiped the counter clear of flour and coconut flakes. They put together an extravagant array of dressed-up breakfast food, dousing their plates in maple syrup, chocolate chips and heart-shaped strawberries as they talked and sipped coffee. Henry sat across the island holding his hand out for her to touch every once in a while. He didn't need her to hold his hand, though, subconsciously, he always reached out for her in case she wanted to feel his skin.

The morning melted seamlessly into early afternoon, and the couple ventured from the condo after a quick round of energizing couch sex. Henry thumbed the ring on her finger as they walked onto the main floor from the elevator.

"Mr. Deaver and Madame, good morning!" Johnny, the concierge, greeted them.

Henry held up their conjoined hands. "It's Mr. and Mrs. Deaver from now on, Johnny."

The tall man behind the desk made a small gasp and bowed. "Apologies, Mr. and Mrs... Might I say congratulations to the happy couple?"

"You're the first to hear, officially," Henry said.

Johnny touched his enormous hand to his chest. "What an honour, sir. This position never loses its magic."

Henry twisted his mouth. "I have some other news, Johnny. My wife and I will be moving soon. We won't be seeing you every morning."

"Ah, that's all right, Mr. Deaver. Moving up and up, I hope?"

"Yes. It's a ranch house in the country. No neighbours."

"Beautiful. Well, I wish you both the very best and look forward to helping you out until moving day comes."

"Thanks, Johnny," she said with a smile.

Johnny rose his finger as they meant to leave. "One more thing. A package arrived for you, Mr. Deaver."

The concierge ducked under the desk with a set of keys and opened the security box dedicated to the Deaver property. He pulled out a bulging manila envelope and turned it over with a dutiful grin. When her eyes glanced at the writing on the front, a knot formed in her throat. Henry's name adorned the front in practiced, sweeping hand. Henry. Not Henry Deaver or Mr. Deaver. Just his name written in black ink with flourishes on the capital H and a hand-drawn filigree beneath. She watched his shoulders stiffen as he nodded to Johnny.

"Thank you, Johnny. We'll see you later."

She followed Henry to the parking garage, staring at the envelope in his hands. Henry looked ahead, his bright demeanour trampled upon by the object he carried. When they got into the vehicle, they looked at each other, then down at the package.

"What is that?" She asked.

"I think it's from Mary. That's her handwriting."

She swallowed the knot in her throat, but it had doubled in size and refused to budge. "What now? She's not supposed to bother us anymore."

"I know," Henry breathed. "I can't... You open it."

She tore into the envelope and pulled out a letter accompanied by a DVD in a flat jewel case and photocopies of ruled paper scrawled with notes. Henry nodded at the letter, signalling her to read it aloud.

"Dear Henry... I know there's little chance of getting a private audience with you now that we're legally separated, and the company is in the process of moving. You probably have your hands full and do not wish to hear from me either way. I understand your need to stay away, hence the letter and no phone call. What needs to be said cannot be summed up in a brief call, so I will try to keep this to a few pages.

I wanted to start off by apologizing. It's too late for apologies, and you must think I'm off my rocker to have even considered coming to you with this. Still, I'm not looking for acceptance, sympathy or anything but the need to fill you in on the blank spaces that must have driven you crazy over the last couple of years. The way I scorned you was wrong. A wife should respect her husband in all forms, and answer to him when he calls. I ignored you and purposely drove a wedge between us in order to distance myself from you and our collective failure.

By now, I'm sure your new girlfriend told you what I told her. It should come as no surprise that when I say "failure," I mean our inability to have a child.

When I received the news, and you were nowhere to be found, I felt the clutches of the Devil himself reaching for me. God does not make mistakes, which is how I know we were being punished for our sins, and since the results indicated you were the weaker factor, I can only assume the punishment was meant for you, and by extension, me. I know you have berated me in the past for my strong beliefs, but I cannot compromise my relationship with God for anyone's comfort. I know in my heart, his word is law, and if we couldn't produce a child, lying together would be straying down the path of temptation.

There were things you wanted me to do that I could not, in good conscience, provide for you—sex acts no married couple should have an interest in performing. If I'd have known of your devious tastes early on in our relationship, perhaps I wouldn't have married you. You resisted His word and acted on selfish impulse, spoke of wicked things with your colleagues, and Lord knows what other things I didn't catch wind of. I had to escape your sin yet remain your wife through the bad and the worse, as I pledged before God until death.

I do not judge you, as you are no longer my husband, and I know God will assess your choices in his divine eye. I don't have to worry about the unclean thoughts that live inside of you—they have no power over me; they aren't a reflection of my heavenly worth. If anything, I hope you are happy and have all the freedom one who strays from God can expect to have in this world. I pray for your soul each night and hope you do not meet the eternal fires.

I should have told you, but I was stricken with unbearable grief. I hated you. I fell out of love. I can't describe how, but I felt if I touched you, knowing what I knew then, God would punish me. Please understand everything I did, I did in the name of the Lord and with concern for my immortal soul. Call me selfish. I was and am, to this day, a selfish woman. But you were good to me, up until a certain point.

I cannot forgive your infidelity and can only pray you to seek repentance for your sin, though I will admit I did not care to make it right at the time. My silence was meant as punishment, but only God can dole penance, and in shutting you out, I acted in his name when I shouldn't have. I will spend the rest of my days begging His forgiveness and praying for you, Henry.

This package includes the evidence I've compiled of your cheating. You should know now I no longer seek vengeance. I simply want to scrub my life of all traces of you, and figured you might want to gaze upon your transgressions. Or throw them out. It's up to you now. Sincerely, Mary."

Henry was quiet for several minutes as he digested the contents of the letter. She found a pamphlet for the Evangelist Church of God among the pages and scowled.

"Wow, religion really makes people say some crazy stuff," she muttered, hoping to get a sound out of her fiance. Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He motioned for the letter and gave it a half-hearted scan before crumpling it in his fist.

"Fuck that woman. Fuck that life."

"Sounds like a story."

He puffed, scoffed, burned a hole into the letter written in Mary's graceful hand.

"But you don't have to tell me."

"She's right," Henry said. "I was different back then."

"I know you were."

"How come you've never asked?"

His question nipped the skin on the back of her arms. "The same reason I don't ask other people about their religion. That's their business. You were raised a certain way, but you changed. I know you were put in a cage, Henry. You made a mistake, but it's not the eternal damnation Mary says. Your marriage was practically over. Unless... You cheated before us?"

Henry whipped a look at her, gaping and wordless. She shrugged as a platitude and coughed over a laugh. "Well? How can I not suspect? Mary says you cheated, Frank says you didn't, but I don't trust either of them as far as I can throw them, Henry!"

"Look, I know!" Henry barked, and she pressed her back to the door. "You've gotta believe me, sweetheart. I'm trying to prove to you every day that I'm not this monster she wants me to be!"

"What's on these discs? They don't have labels. Am I going to watch this and find out something you don't want me to?"

His jaw set like he was about to explode. Air escaped his nostrils, and he glared forth at the wet cement wall beyond the hood of her car. Above, the building's pressure crushed out all sound, and Henry became aware of his breath, the tension in his windpipe.

"No. I don't know. I have no idea what's on those DVDs. If she got her private investigator to film me, it's probably just you and I making out in the car. What would be incriminating about that?"

"Did you lie to me that night in Paris?"

A dissonant, heavy silence fell over the man in the driver's seat. His skin turned sallow, and her eyes eclipsed to see the sickly guilt on his face.

"That night, you told me you left her. You said you asked for the divorce, and she just gave up. Was that a lie? Did you say that just to get me to go?"

Condemned by another bout of silence, Henry hid the colour of his ears behind hunched shoulders. "Baby, I was in love. I am in love with you. It's only ever been you! I needed you with me so bad. She knew we were done. She knew it. Divorce was not a foreign word."

"Just tell me straight. Did you put it in stone that night? When you flew me ten hours to Paris to be with you?"

"No. I didn't. I went home, said goodbye to her, she gave me the cold shoulder, I cursed, and she got angry with me. I told her I was finished, and then I left. Maybe I didn't flat out say I want a divorce, but it was implied."

"I'm curious to see what's on these discs," she said.

"Sweetheart, I will watch them with you, totally confident there's no evidence of me with any other woman."

"Good," she nodded. "Because you're mine. Maybe I'm the bad one for not caring. If you're bad, I'm worse. I don't give a fuck about you cheating on her, and this is the first time I've ever admitted it out loud. You're mine, Henry. You belong to me. She knew what she had and uses faith as an excuse for hiding a horrible secret from you!"

"Good Lord, I don't want to cry about this again," said Henry.

"Fuck it, Henry, just like you said. Fuck her and fuck the life you had. Your ass is mine now," she stuck her ring finger in the air. "Like, forever."

Henry pouted and melted into her lap. She quickly ran her hands through his hair as he moaned against her knee. "But what about our family?"

"We'll figure it out, babe. I promise. Until then, just keep shooting loads inside of me, and we'll see what happens."

He burst with laughter and lifted his rosy face to kiss her. "That's such a you thing to say in a time of crisis."

"I told you last night and back at the hotel... I'm with you. I'll back you in everything you do and make sure not a day goes by you wish you were somewhere else."

"I have absolutely no doubt of that, sweetheart. Goddamn it, I love you... Wifey," he giggled.

"But how hot would it be to have sex while watching DVDs of us hooking up in the Beamer and touching on patios and shit?"

"So hot. I've been thinking about it, and I've concluded it is very fucking hot."

"All right, hubby. Let's put this shit behind us forever and get busy getting married and having babies. We have places to go!"

"Yeah," Henry grabbed her hand and nodded. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

#henry deaver x mistress #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #castle rock fanfiction #henry deaver

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thefairyletters · 4 years

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aaaAAAHH, when you wrote abt sasusaku and reverse pining like YESSS. I couldnt exactly put it into words before reading your post, but I wholeheartedly agree. it would pose a more interesting narrative for the development of their relationship if the roles were reversed and entertaining to read sasuke going out of his comfort zone

Oh yes, Sasuke trying and fighting to get back what he had initially denied is everything that characterizes a canonically healthy SS romance.

Let's also look back to Sasuke getting welcomed back into Konoha. Now, personally I find it strange that people, especially civilians and several shinobi who didn't know Sasuke even existed within village or just knew him in the passing, didn't react to his presence back in the village. He is one of the most notorious S-class missing nins, is he not? Someone who helped instigating the war in the first place, even though he did help in ending it too? Someone who left behind his village before he even knew what his village actually did to his clan?

He is one of the luckiest characters with one of the most tragic backstories on his back.

Inspite of his long list of crimes, Sasuke was allowed to get away unscathed, something that would have gotten any other person slaughtered without a second thought. Alright, so village values his bloodline and is willing to turn blind eye to every atrocities he's committed against all five villages and whatnot. Understandable, because it's politics.

What's not understandable is the extent of sacrifice Team 7 makes for Sasuke. Particularly, Sakura who was turned into some kind of homecoming gift to Sasuke. He came, poked her forehead (voluntarily!) and left (again!), it doesn't help this pair that the forehead poke doesn't have a very positive intonation to begin with. That means, he also got the girl (broodmare) in the end; the same girl he knocked out and left behind alone on a cold bench in the middle of the night.

I wouldn't deny that Sasuke may have always harboured special feelings for Sakura, but Sakura hardly ever saw him after he left and when she did, it's always an attempt on her life by him. It should be enough to make her question if her Sasuke will ever be back.

I can understand that she never stopped loving him because she fell in love with the boy who was her teammate, not the one who made attempts on her life, so she may have always kept loving him. But after everything – the war, and their angsty moments – she more or less should have just settled with focusing on bringing him back and not on her feelings for him.

If it wasn't for Kishimoto, she would have done just that – not caring for Sasuke's feelings for her and only wishing him to return home to them, instead of getting reduced to blushing mess everytime Sasuke is in her presence. Like life had always been so peaceful and pink. Like Sakura and Naruto hadn't survived a war which probably killed many people and left many more without family. Like Sakura didn't know firsthand how death can affect people. Like Sasuke almost hadn't tried to get them all killed.

Reverse pining should have been important in SS because Sasuke easily leaves everything behind and he gets everything back just as easily. There's no effort from his side – he wants to revive his clan and he gets a willing broodmare who happens to be the same girl he had left behind, he wants his Konoha citizenship back which he recieves handily and then proceeds to leave the village the next day, with only "until next time".

I personally would have preferred Sakura to keep her feelings locked behind a polite smile and only present herself in a very cordial manner to Sasuke. I would have preferred her avoiding Sasuke, if only because she doesn't know where she stands with him and is traumatised by his attempts on her life. This, if he really loved her and wanted to let her in, would have confused him, then worried him and then finally forced him to work his way to build his relationship with Sakura, starting with a tentative friendship. Even a word between them on how they should start over would have done wonders on SS relationship.

I can't stress enough how much I hate Naruto for everything that Kishimoto/SP messed up spectacularly. Sasuke and Sakura are duo embodiments of hypocrisy. In their attempts to make Sasuke look cool and attract sympathy towards his character, Sasuke ended up looking really foolish and withdrawn to the point that he could pass for a toy broken beyond repair.

I would even approve the idea of Sakura accepting Sasuke's hand in marriage only because it is expected of her. After years of pining for Sasuke and then pretend-pining (because change will raise questions), it will be well within her character to forgo her personal feelings and do what everyone expected of her. Featuring Sakura being unconditional in giving him a home, though with sad eyes and warm company, and Sasuke understanding her sadness, acknowledging how kind she was to him even after everything he had her go through, and then trying to win her love by reciprocating the love he had always denied her. That way, it would become a story of love in an arranged marriage. This arrangement would go well in Boruto considering the gratitude that Sasuke shows Sakura from time to time.

The whole idea of reverse pining would have put Sasuke's insights of their relationship into perspective and also given us an idea about his mindset during the times that involved him trying killing her. I personally think between Sasuke and Sakura, Sasuke is the more emotional person. Uchihas are particularly passionate and volatile, but all under the wraps. Sakura is expressive and wears her emotions on her sleeves but is considerably calmer of the two where it counts. Comic relief don't count.

Shippuden either shouldn't have ended without another season expanding upon the reunion of Team 7, or it shouldn't have hinted on any pairings – least of all, SS, which is easily the most complex pair I've come across.

SS is one ship that deserved its own movie than any other. period

Am I clear?

#sasusaku #why kishi you do this to us #sasusaku had so much potential #and you people ask us why we ship narusaku #sasusaku is so frustrating #ss is beautiful but only if it is written right #i was once a big SS shipper #until it went downhill for ss #sakura haruno #i'm still mad sasuke was recieved well into the village after a war which was partly his doing #i liked sasuke best when he was genin and only a stupid 12 years old #i wasn't sure what you wanted to hear from me so I just rambled on about ss in general

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showyoumyfavoriteobsession · 2 years

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TMA thoughts!

Been trying to find a post I can reblog to say I finished TMA, but I didn't just want to ramble in someone else's tags, so. I finished TMA! I enjoyed it! I think it's one that I'm going to appreciate more after sitting with it for a while, and probably some re-listening - there are definitely characters (and to some extent, plot lines) I sort of lost track of over the course of the show, and it came back to bite me when they all showed up in season 5.

Also ngl, even after 200 episodes there are some characters whose voices I really struggle to tell apart. Usually I could get it through context, and I did get better over time, but it probably caused me some lasting confusion from the earlier seasons. (Jon and Elias sounded nearly identical to me for most of the show, and Basira, Daisy, and Melanie had some weird overlap for me. So scenes where like Basira was being particularly aggressive she sometimes sounded like Daisy, or if Melanie was more subdued she sounded like Basira... stuff like that.)

Honestly one of the things I've been enjoying most is the Q&As and retrospectives and behind the scenes stuff - Alex and Jonny do a really good job of explaining the reasons they constructed the show the way that they did, they have great insights on horror as a genre, and I think they really nailed their relationship to fandom as creators. Obviously I wasn't around when the fandom was huge, but I really respect their stance of engaging, answering questions, etc. but keeping canon decisions away from fanon while recognizing that they don't have any control over where the fandom ultimately ends up with the text. Also I loooove hearing Alex and Elizabeth and the other editors talk about soundscaping and Foley - I took a few sound design classes in college and it's definitely a latent interest of mine.

But anyway! I don't want to seem down on the show, I really did enjoy it (I blew through five seasons in like 2 weeks lmao)! Some general thoughts:

I relate to Martin to a probably worrying degree, but. I simply Love Him. (Commencing blorbo in 3...2...)

Predictably, I loved everything Jon/Martin. Unrequited pining to mutual pining? Yearning while gay? Canon ace character? (Sort of) enemies to friends to lovers? Sign me the fuck up

I really really loved season 5 and the finale in particular! Tbf they are the freshest in my head at this point, but I thought it was all a really smart evolution of the show's format, and it was just deliciously tragic and angsty the whole way through without being too depressing.

All of the characters are interesting but I thought Melanie was a really fascinating kind of character - someone who is "good" and on the same side as the protagonists, with many of the same goals, but absolutely hates the main character and almost every decision he makes. It's rare to see that played seriously rather than comic relief, and I thought it added really interesting character aspects to both her and Jon as they constantly end up facing off against each other. (And tbf the more comic bits near the beginning of Melanie's arc were extremely funny as well.)

Maybe this is a silly thing to add after listening to 200 episodes of a horror podcast, but I enjoyed the horror aspects a lot! I've been slowly easing my way into horror as a genre for a long time (because I'm a big baby), and a podcast was a nice medium somewhere between horror books (which I broadly enjoy) and horror movies (which I'm very picky about). I think the framing of listening to the tapes helped keep a level of separation, so the more intense stuff wasn't quite as visceral, but there were still plenty of moments that gave me good chills and statements/images that stick in my mind.

#j rambles #feel free to reply but pls don't reblog #3 #4 #5 #the magnus archives #i feel like counting out tags like that doesnt really keep posts out of tags anymore but. im trying

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free-pool-trash · 4 years

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folklore - isaac lahey {1/?}

my first isaac piece... y’all i can’t even lie this kind of got away from me but here we are so let me know if you want me to commit to making this a series!!

this is pre-bite isaac!!!! because i haven’t seen anybody write for him before he was bitten so i wanted to explore the dynamic of him and reader while he was just normal, which obviously i’ll get more into in future parts if anyone would be interested in reading more <33 feedback would be really appreciated !!!!!

masterlist

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse (i think that’s it but let me know if i missed anything)

mostly fluffy but a lil angsty

i’m gonna tag the people that replied under the post i made asking if anyone wanted an isaac fic hope that’s okay <3 let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list for possible future parts!

tagging: @makeusfreefromthisfandom (thank you for putting up with me while i attempted to write this), @cece-lives-here, @chocolate-raspberries, @tanyaherondale again lemme know if you wanna be removed or added <3

PART 2

You could remember with complete clarity the day you'd met your best friend, who also kind of happened to be your only friend, but that minor detail didn't even matter as you wouldn't ask for anyone else or anyone more and what was better was that you knew for a fact that said best friend felt the exact same about you.

It was the first day of middle school when you'd met your long time best friend, both of you had been wide eyed and hopeful about the coming years as you were seated beside each other in your very first class. He'd been shy at first, glancing at you with a nervous smile and playing with the zip of his pencil case when the teacher instructed you all get to know the person beside you.

"My name's (Y/n), what's yours?" You asked him, a friendly smile on your face- you knew from the get go that you were the louder of the both of you.

"I'm Isaac." He answered you with a smile that was more certain than the last one he'd offered you.

He'd tensed up again, however, when you pointed towards his backpack. Even so early in the day someone had already poked fun at the bag that was covered in comic book characters that the boy loved so much, with the way you pointed at it excitedly he couldn't help the nerves that built up in him, he didn't know why you were excited, you either liked his backpack or you liked teasing people, he seriously didn't know.

His nerves settled down once you'd actually opened your mouth, "Woah, your bag is so cool! You like Spider-Man too?" Your eyes sparkled with excitement and Isaac finally allowed himself to reciprocate it.

"Thanks! Spider-Man is my favorite superhero! Do you read comics?" He asked you with a smile that had widened significantly since the beginning of your meeting.

"No, I don't have any comic books at home…" You explained with a slight frown before your lips lifted back upward as you continued, "I watch all the movies with my dad, though!"

Isaac nodded in understanding, blue eyes shining bright with happiness that he'd made a friend so easily, while he usually found the task quite difficult since he was very soft spoken, your charismatic energy seemed to rub off on him as he found himself talking to you easily.

"I've got some in my backpack, do you want to read them with me at lunch?" The boy asked hopefully, his shy demeanor returning ever so slightly as he realized he'd just taken a leap of faith, something he didn't love doing.

Head nodding enthusiastically, your smile grew only wider, "Yeah!"

The memory always made you smile as you'd sat with each other at that lunch time and at every other lunch time from that day onwards. You and Isaac were a pair, as you grew up you did mostly everything together, his father and brother loved you and your parents loved him just the same.

He knew all of your secrets and you knew all of his, including how abusive his father became after the death of his older brother, he'd told you but under the condition that you didn't breathe a word to anyone else, so you kept your mouth shut but did everything in your power to support him in the aftermath of a punch or emotional scar.

Isaac often voiced how much you meant to him, despite the fact that he wasn't great with putting his feelings into words, he always managed to remind you that he was sure you were some sort of guardian angel to him or how you were really and honestly his favorite person in the whole world. The proclamations more often than not came mixed with shaking breaths and sobs from your favourite boy. You were both sixteen the first time it happened.

A knock on your front door tore your attention away from the show you were watching, you raised an eyebrow in question. Neither of your parents were home and you weren't expecting them back until the next morning, shrugging your shoulders you made your way to the front door, opening it revealing Isaac looking more broken than you'd ever seen him in your five years of friendship, his blue eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red, cheeks painted in tear tracks and loud sniffles sounded from him along with a sob that threatened to rip your heart out when he met your eyes.

Immediately you'd rushed him through your doorway, barely taking the time to shut the door before you had your arms wrapped around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to reach him due to how tall he'd become in the last few years. His arms wrapped around you in seconds as he began shaking against your smaller frame, sobs wracking his body violently.

After a minute, when his cries didn't die down as they usually did, you ushered him towards the couch, sitting him down and taking the seat beside him while you looked him over for any obvious injuries.

The only thing you noticed was that his fingernails were stubbed and bloody, as if he'd broken them trying to claw himself out of somewhere. You slowly and gently placed your palm to his cheek, stroking your thumbs under his eyes, removing his tears as you did. He was cold, no, he was freezing and you couldn't tell if he was shaking from the temperature or from whatever trauma his father had inflicted on him to put him in such a state.

"What happened, Isaac?" You asked softly, scooting closer to him when his hands reached out for you, they clutched the fabric of your hoodie- his hoodie- tightly, he only shook his head, pulling you into him completely, arms now wound tightly around your torso as he cried into your shoulder, you'd never seen him this shaken up, you'd never felt his tears soak through two layers of your clothing but you supposed there was a first time for everything as your curly haired best friend couldn't fight the tears that just kept flowing.

Your hands ran through his curls, scratching softly at the nape of his neck, something that usually always worked in calming him right down, only it wasn't working and you couldn't stand the way he was still freezing, you wanted to help him, you always helped him, you were at a loss as he cried this time though, you didn't know how to help.

"You're freezing." You murmured, his breath hitched at your statement and you had to move his head from its spot between your neck and shoulder, hands back on his cheeks.

Reluctantly you separated from him, fighting the urge to throw yourself back in his arms when he let out a panicked whimper, quickly you grabbed the throw blanket you kept on the armchair beside the couch and made your way back to Isaac's side, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders tightly and rubbing your hands up and down his arms softly, you tried your best to heat him up.

"I'm going to make you a hot drink, ok? Then we can talk- or watch a movie or just- yeah. I'll be back in a minute. I'm right in the kitchen if you need me." You fretted, kissing his forehead before rushing into the kitchen. Hot chocolate always cheered Isaac up, he'd once proclaimed that if he could only drink one beverage for the rest of his life it would be hot chocolate. You really needed a win with him tonight so with shaking hands you began making a cup of hot chocolate for your best friend.

It got hard sometimes, staying strong when you saw him so broken, sometimes you wanted nothing more than to cry with him, let the pain you felt for him consume you, but you never did, not in front of him anyway. If there was one thing he hated more than himself being upset it was making you upset and you knew that, you knew that it you cried for him in his presence he'd be reluctant to confide in you in fear of upsetting you. You couldn't have that, he needed you and you needed to be there for him, even if it hurt.

So you took a deep breath and walked back to your living room, cup of hot chocolate in hand, relief flooded you when you noticed Isaac had stopped crying, he was still sniffling but the tears had ceased.

"Here bub." You placed the cup in his cold, shaky hands before returning to your place pressed against his side, "Thank you."

His voice was scratchy and broken as he spoke, "Not just for the drink." He added on, voice merely a whisper.

Shaking your head you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, "You don't have to thank me for anything." You told him quietly, he'd never ever owe you anything and you wouldn't want him to ever think he did.

"But I want to." Isaac placed the cup on your coffee table and took both of your hands in his, "You're the only good thing I have left." His voice was certain and as steady as he could make it because as horrible as his experiences were, the thought of being able to collapse into you once it was over got him through it.

Without saying a word you rested your head against his shoulder and tightened your grip on his hands, holding them in your lap while you waited for him to continue.

"I don't know what I'd do without you." Titling your head up at his words you let your lips press to his cheek, something you did often.

"Well, you don't ever have to worry about that because I'm not going anywhere." You reassured him, a smile rising on your face when his lips met your forehead.

You and Isaac were always affectionate with each other, from sharing beds at sleepovers to holding hands if one of you was anxious. Naturally, you were very touchy person and it played in your favor that your best friend craved physical affection. The two of you just worked.

And sure sometimes when he'd hug you from behind or when he'd absentmindedly play with your hair you wished that he was more than just your best friend. What you didn't know was that Isaac felt the same, every time he told you that he loved you he wanted you to know just how much he really meant it, let you know that the words ran way deeper than just your friendship.

What made things difficult was trying to act none the wiser about Isaac's home life when his father would invite you over for dinners or movie nights, the same way he used to before he started using his youngest son as an emotional and physical punching bag. It was genius really, he kept up appearances and if you hadn't gotten the truth out of Isaac you probably wouldn't have guessed that his father was such a scumbag.

Tonight was one of those nights. Mr. Lahey invited you to stay for dinner when he noticed you studying with Isaac, helping him with chemistry, at the dining table. Not wanting to leave Isaac alone with the man for any longer than he absolutely had to be you had taken him up on his offer.

You even helped him make the meal, it was times like that you were extremely thankful for your acting skills.

Isaac's father sat at the head of the table while yourself and Isaac sat across from each other either side of the table.

"So (Y/n), d'you find yourself a boyfriend yet?" The older man asked you with a smile, "Dad-" Isaac chastised, his eyes wide and cheeks blushing a rose red.

"Um, no not yet." You answered, glancing at Isaac quickly before moving your gaze to his father, "How are things at the graveyard?" You asked sweetly, praying to God that he'd drop the topic of your love life. What were you supposed to say? "No I don't have a boyfriend but I am in love with your son who you're abusing you piece of shit."?

Luckily, he didn't push on the subject any further, "It's been busy lately with all these animal attacks."

"It's a mountain lion right?" You asked with interest, looking at Isaac now, the boy shrugged, letting out a chuckle at your curiosity, "That's what everyone's been saying."

"I heard from Scott McCall that it's some kind of wolf." You explained, finishing off your plate as Isaac raised an eyebrow, "You know McCall?"

"Yeah, he sits next to me in homeroom, he's pretty nice. Anyway he said him and Stiles were out in the woods and he swears that he heard a wolf howling." You shot off, a million theories cooking up in your head as the words left your lips excitedly. You didn't miss the soft smile on Isaac's face as he listened to you talk so passionately.

The hearty chuckle of his father cut you off and you turned your head to look at him, "There hasn't been a wolf in California in over sixty years." He stated, standing from the table, collecting your plates and placing them in the sink before pointing to Isaac.

"Whatever it is, it got someone else last night so I need you to go down to the yard and start digging." Isaac only nodded, pushing himself up, "I'll walk (Y/n) home and then I'll head over."

"Sure, you kids be careful out there." He replied superficially, letting out one last chuckle as he left the room completely.

"You ready to go, bubs?" You ask, grabbing your backpack and throwing it over your shoulder, "What?" You asked when you noticed Isaac hadn't moved but was instead looking at you with a quirked eyebrow and a fond smile, his arms crossed infront of his chest.

"You gonna be warm enough walking home in that?" He motioned towards your blouse and you threw your head back in frustration and grumbled, "No probably not."

"Wait here, I'll grab you something." He told you, pecking your cheek as he passed you.

It only took Isaac a minute to return to the kitchen, grey cardigan in hand, he loved that cardigan but in all honesty he loved it more when it was on you, which is why he picked it for you to wear on your walk home. Usually you forgot to give his clothes back to him when he'd leave you at your doorstep, which always led to you wearing it into school the next day, he absolutely loved when you wore his cardigans and his hoodies, the way the sleeves hung way past your wrists made you look so adorable to him and he had to stop himself from throwing his entire closet at you.

"Is that your favorite cardigan I see?" You questioned, a knowing smile on your face.

Isaac gave you a playful shrug, handing the cardigan to you and stating, "My favourite cardigan for my favorite girl."

"Hey!" A whisper hissed from the desk behind you, glancing back you saw Stiles Stilinski leaning forward towards you, his entire upper half against his desk.

"Hi?" Your voice was uncertain as the boy with the buzzcut gave you a triumphant grin while Scott rolled his eyes from his seat beside you and infront of Stiles.

"You know Derek Hale right?" The question threw you off slightly, your family had been close with the Hale's before they'd all perished in the house fire six years ago, all except Derek- the prime suspect although you knew it couldn't have been him who set the house ablaze.

"Well, I knew him. He and Laura used to babysit me. I was friends with his younger sister too, back in elementary school." You answered Stiles' question, "Why?"

"Did he seem murder-y to you?" Stiles asked, ignoring your question while Scott let out a tired sigh at his best friend's antics. "No. He was sweet, they all were." You told him sternly, growing tired of his questions about people you would've considered your second family until the vast majority of them burned alive.

Scott's voice was softer than Stiles' when he leaned towards you, "He's uh back in town. We saw him at the Hale house yesterday. We were just wondering if you knew why he was here?"

"Derek's in town?" You asked, eyes wide while Scott nodded in response, brown eyes searching yours for any kind of answer to his previous question. "I didn't even know he was back." Your voice was merely a murmur, you tried your best to digest this new information but all you could think about was how you needed to see him.

"If you're looking for him, I'll help you find him." You offered to the two boys who shared unsure looks causing you to release a sigh, "Come on you two, out of the three of us I'm the only one whose gonna get any answers out of him. He's not exactly welcoming to strangers."

The words left you flatly and the two of them knew you were right, "Yeah you're right. We're going to stop by the house again after school you could meet us there?" Scott agreed, furrowing his brows as he watched you shake your head and scribble something down on the corner of your page, ripping it off, "I've got plans with Isaac after school today but I'll ask my parents if they know anything, they were really close with the Hale's." You explained, handing the scrap of paper with your phone number on it to Scott, "Give me your numbers so I can call you if I find out anything useful." Scott nodded gratefully, scribbling down his number on the side of his page the same way you had while Stiles just looked at you with a funny expression on his face, "Don't you hang out with Isaac like every day? Can't you just ditch him this once?" You let out a humorless chuckle, raising an eyebrow at the boy, "Would you ditch Scott?"

Stiles grumbled something under his breath, finally seating himself back in his seat properly, defeated by your retort.

Stiles wasn't wrong, you did hang out with Isaac almost every day but you'd never once ditched him just as he never ditched you, you weren't going to change that for the sake of two boys that you barely knew.

You'd met Isaac during a dark period of your life, when the Hale fire happened and all the people you'd been raised around suddenly disappeared from your life, he'd been exactly what you needed and he continued to be that person who always made you feel like there was always something to hope for even if everything looked grim.

He was the living embodiment of surviving hardships, and although he'd never realize it, he was the reason you were able to pull yourself out of slumps and keep pushing forward even when you felt like the weight of the world was crushing your chest. One smile or word of encouragement from Isaac and all that weight would evaporate into nothing.

As the bell rang you wanted nothing more than to find the boy who occupied your thoughts and tell him about the information you'd just been given, you definitely needed a pick me up after finding out Derek was back in town and you hadn't even seen him.

So you set off, giving Scott a small smile before exiting the classroom and making your way into the busy hallway, starting your search for Isaac the second you entered the crowd.

#isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf x reader #isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagine

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