#she the mistress accused him of cheating on her with his wife who just so happened to be her boss in deja view’s parking lot at 11pm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Good little girl

*gif is not mine*

Note - Requested by @holacia2 and a part two to good little wife. And special thanks to @gotnofucks for all her help! I'm so overwhelmed with all the love that fic got I hope y'all like this little follow up as well❤❤

Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Married life isn't always easy. Will you be able to solve your problems?

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, younger woman/older man, daddy kink, soft dark!Andy, SO MUCH MISOGYNY, housewife kink, innocence kink, (accusations of) cheating, arranged/forced marriage, spanking, possessive Andy.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 4.9k

Masterlist is linked in the bio and the pinned post!

You handed your mother the brownies you had baked, she thanked you, telling you how it was so unnecessary, before Andy placed the wine you had gotten on the way over on the kitchen counter.

“Why don’t you go keep your father in law company, Andrew?” your mom told him. He only nodded before making way to his boss.

“So? How are things going with him?” she asked. “You are positively glowing honey! Do you have any good news yet?”

“Mom!” you gasped.

Over the past seven months you had only seen your mother a handful of times. You were still a bit upset with her for marrying you off to an older man you barely knew, a man who you thought despised you so much he refused to even touch you.

You knew she didn’t really have a say in it. Your father never really valued her opinion, there was no way she would’ve been able to stop it but she hadn’t even so much as tried.

“No, I don’t. And I won’t any time soon,” you huffed.

While being a mother was something you’d like to experience someday, you didn’t know if you were quite ready for it yet. Which was good because Andy didn’t want kids for the next few years either, he had taken you to a doctor to get you on birth control as soon as the holidays were over.

He stated that he wasn’t ready to share you just yet. That he wasn’t sure he wants his kids to be a part of the mob, which you didn’t want either.

“Oh, but you have to, cookie. I need a distraction. Being a mom is all I’ve ever known and ever since you left the house has been so empty.”

“Well, what about daddy?” you frowned. He had never really liked spending time with your siblings or your mother, but to leave her be on her own like that.

“He’s always with Charlotte,” she rolled her eyes. “I would’ve been fine with it, he’s always been like that, can’t expect him to change now, but he brought her here, now, to a family dinner.” She sighed in resignation.

You had heard a familiar high pitched annoying laugh upon coming home, but you thought that to be one of your brothers floozies.

Charlotte, or Cherry, used to be a good friend of yours in college. Before you brought her home for the holidays of your freshman year and she decided to shack up with your married father, who was almost thrice her age. You lost touch with her after that.

“I’m telling you, honey, a kid is a good way of securing your marriage and starting a family. You are young now... but you will grow old someday. Andrew’s a good man... but he is still a man at the end of the day.”

You scoffed at that, “I won’t have you talking that way about my husband! We are already a family, we’re in love each other and he’s nothing like dad.”

She gave you a teary smile, “Young love--is just so innocent and beautiful. You always see the best in people, cookie. I hope I’m wrong about this. Any man would be an idiot to not appreciate you.”

“Andy does appreciate me. And take good care of me, ma...” you trailed off.

He did take good care of you. After the night you consummated your marriage he brought you breakfast in bed. He hadn’t kept his hands off of you for the past few weeks, doting on you any chance he could get, telling you he loved you every chance he got.

But you wondered... did he love you?

The kind of love you’d only ever read about in classical novels. The kind of love you’d dreamt of having ever since you could remember, the kind you thought you once had with someone, but didn’t. You didn’t love Alex the way you love Andy. You were in love with the idea of Alex. You knew Andy now. You knew how kind, passionate and fierce he was, your love for him consumed every single part of you. Where you would literally die for him.

But did he love you for you. Or was he just lonely because it was Christmas. You had avoided taking the tree and the decorations down, begging him, even dropping to your knees and making love to him with your mouth, you didn’t know much but Cherry had taught you that you could get men to do anything for you just by kneeling before them.

While he was very obviously pleased with your passion, returning the favor tenfold, till your thighs burned from his bread and you were shouting for him to stop, he still took the decorations down. He said he wanted to start anew this year. He made a resolution to be the best husband he could.

But you were going to protect your heart this time, hope for the best but still prepare for the worst.

Unfortunately, you had been seated next to Cherry. You found out that your father was living with her now and that while she had hoped he’d leave his wife for her there, but apparently there was no such luck.

“They never leave their wives do they,” she shook her head. “Oh I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be saying these things to you...”

“Its alright,” you shrugged. It would be hard to see your mother be unhappy but there was never any love between your parents. Your mother had learned to live without him and find happiness in other things, and other people, she was just a bit more sneaky about it.

“Well...” you hesitated “how do you keep a man?”

“What kind of question is that?” she giggled. “There are many ways to keep a man but you’ll have to be a bit more specific...”

You ended up changing the subject. The kind of questions you wanted to ask were not suitable for the dinner table, and you didn’t like the way Andy was staring daggers at the pair of you, almost displeased with the two of you chatting.

***

You smiled at him from the passenger seat when he put his hand on your knee, giving it a light squeeze. He had been quite the whole ride home so you decided to speak first.

“Can’t believe Cherry’s like my... step mom.” You laughed out loud at such a ridiculous notion.

“Step mom?” he furrowed his brows, turning his head to look at you.

“Oh I’m just joking,” you waved him off. “Dad would never leave my ma. He’ll move on to another one soon enough.”

He hummed, nodding, “Alright. I was just worried she was troubling you at dinner.”

“What would you have done if she was? Would you swop in like a knight in shining armor and save me from the big meanie?”

“You know I would,” he smiled.

You had asked for a piggy back ride from Andy from the garage to your home, he rolled his eyes and tried to say no but then gave in when you used your princess eyes on him.

He placed you on top of your bed, kissing the tip of your nose, he started unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed.

“Andy... um... Daddy?” you corrected yourself instantly.

He liked you addressing him as that whenever you both were alone, he had warned you that you would receive a punishment if you ever failed to comply.

You didn’t know what his punishment would be and you didn’t plan on finding out anytime soon. You’d withhold all affection from him if he ever dared take away the platinum card from you, or lower your allowance as your father had told him to at the dinner, ‘to tame you' supposedly.

But that wasn’t a very good plan... what if he just looked for love elsewhere.

“What is it, honey?” he asked.

“Um... do you think... you would ever take a mistress?” you gulped and prepared yourself for his answer.

“I wouldn’t...” you sighed in relief, “one woman is enough trouble.” he said flatly.

“Daddy!!” you whined, stomping your foot on the floor and folding your hands over your chest.

And he had the audacity to laugh. His laughter at your expense only fuelled your anger. “Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

He finally stopped laughing, “Look at you being a big girl,” he tried to pinch your cheek but you swatted his hand away. “You don’t wanna be daddy’s little girl anymore?” he pouted.

“No... no I do!” you answered all too eager. “I’m sorry...”

“I’m sorry too, honey. I shouldn’t be making fun of you.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” you hugged his hard stomach, rubbing your cheek against his undershirt. “It’s mean, and you promised not to be mean to me.”

“I was just teasing,” he cooed, stroking your hair. And while you knew that and secretly enjoyed it even, you still wanted a serious answer out of him.

“I intend to keep my vows forever. There is just no way I could ever want anyone who’s not you.”

“Really?” you propped your chin on his abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Promise.”

***

“Um... I’m here to see Andy,” you told the lady sitting outside of, what you had been told was Andy’s office, you assumed her to be his secretary Erica.

You always packed a lunchbox for Andy, always remembering to leave a sweet note for him and he would always call you to thank you for it. You also made sure to have dinner ready before he got home on the nights he wasn’t taking you out on the town. It was just your duty as a good wife.

But Andy had been working way too much the past couple of weeks. Where he would be gone before you wake up and be back when you were already in bed. You knew his job was demanding, working for your father and being a partner in a law firm, the job was like a mistress, stealing your man away...

So you simply decided to make his favorite, food pack it up and come to him to eat it together.

“Mrs Barber! It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” she gave you a toothy smile, shaking your hand.

You would’ve been happy, elated that Andy talks so much about you at work. If you hadn’t smelled her perfume. So familiar... you couldn’t quite place it at first but then you remembered.

The night you had slaved away, hoping to profess your love to your husband, when he had rejected you and smelled of chanel.

“That’s a nice scent...” you wondered out loud.

“Oh thank you! I love it as well,” she said, taking in a whiff of the inside of her wrist. “It’s the new chanel one!”

“Hmm....”

You almost didn’t hear Andy calling for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kissed your cheek.

You set the food before him, thinking of telling him what was on your mind.

Was he really so cliché to have an affair with his secretary?

Could you really blame him though? Although you had been married for almost seven months, you were strangers living under the same roof for the majority of them. He wasn’t really cheating... but what if he was still doing it?

“Honey,” he shook you to get your attention. “What’s up with you today? I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“You’re always working.” You complained.

“Well...” he grinned, grabbing at your thighs and pulling you on his lap, “I have to. If I had the choice I would never come into work, I would stay home forever, between your legs, right... here,” he snaked a hand up your leg and stroked the inside of your thigh. “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, “I’ve been so lonely without you.”

He hummed, biting the shell of your ear before speaking into it, “I know, honey. I miss you too. But you do still remember the number one rule right?”

“Yes, daddy. Never touch myself without your permission.”

“And why is that?”

You whined, to embarrassed to say the words, “Because... it’s your... pussy.” You replied in a small shy voice.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s mine to do whatever I want with,” he cupped your mould, just to demonstrate what he meant but then frowned when he felt your soft curls and wet slick against his palm.

“You’re not wearing any panties, sweetheart.” He noted, surprised to your boldness.

“Um... I must’ve forgot.”

So maybe you had ulterior motives behind coming here. Your body was used to be doted on everyday now, and to not have his touch for so long was agonising. You had hoped to maybe bend down to pick up a napkin that fell ever so conveniently and flash him, it would work, he would be driven mad.

“Forgot huh?” You nodded in reply as he gathered your slick in his fingers, tracing your labia with them. “That’s too bad, If you had left them on purpose I would’ve cancelled my meeting and fucked you right here. But since it was just an innocent mistake I wouldn’t do that,” he retreated his hand, placing a soft kiss on your hair. “Thanks for lunch.”

***

You were determined to prove your worth to Andy. If he did have a mistress, whether it be his secretary or any other woman, he would forget all about her when he saw how you could do everything for him.

You had went all out today, baking a pie and a four course meal from scratch, lighting up candles, the pink babydoll that Andy had gifted you was under your dress.

He was as always exhausted when he got home, his face visibly lighting up upon seeing you, you took his hand in yours taking him to the couch and making him a glass of whiskey, you handed it to him before kneeling on the soft rug.

“You work so hard, daddy,” you murmured as your fingers worked on unzipping his pants.

He looked at you in confusion, shaking his head, “You don’t have to do that, honey,” cupping your cheek in his plan, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you blinked at him.

He groaned, unable to say no when you looked so willing to please him, but at the same time he wanted to do more with you. To cuddle and watch a movie and talk, it felt as if he hadn’t in ages.

“Very well,” he nodded.

With the green signal from him, you licked your lips, tasting some of your minty gloss, taking his length out of the confines of his underwear, you took a minute to simply marvel at the sheer size and beauty of it.

You licked a stripe up the underside of it, suckling at the crown, you remembered that he liked that the best, at least from the way he twisted his hand in your hair, pulling at it till it caused a slight burn to your scalp.

You slurped his precum up before he pushed his hips up till his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him, didn’t take him long to come down your throat.

His neck and cheek covered in a crimson blush, his chest heaving as he threw his head back against the couch.

“You did good, honey...” he rasped. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He absolutely loved the dinner you had made for him. But when you subtly, because you were raised to be a good lady and wife, tried to coax him to make love to you before bed, he.... rejected you.

Sure, he was kind about it. He told you he was simply tired and would make it up to you. But it was still shocking how a man as insatiable as him would ever say no. You truly didn’t know what to make of it.

***

“Oh... I don’t know about this... it’s a bit too bold for me,” you bit your lip.

“Just try it on! You might end up liking it!” Cherry urged you, putting the bright red lipstick on you without waiting for an answer, “There is nothing more classic than a red lip. Or a red anything. Men go crazy for it.” She told you.

You simply hummed through closed lips as she put some finishing touches on it. “Doesn’t that look nice?” she asked, holding up a mirror before you.

You smiled, it did look different. Maybe different was what you needed. “It’s very pretty. It makes me feel... confident?” Which was strange. Because how could a simple lipstick make you feel confident?

“See! I told you. Confidence is the key to sexiness. Now, let’s talk lingerie.”

***

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for over fifteen minutes,” you heard Andy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Just a minute,” you said, perfecting your edges with a lip brush.

This was something you had never done before. You wore a lot of lingerie for Andy, but most of them were cute pastels or white nighties or babydolls. Nothing like what you were wearing right now...

A sheer black lacy body suit that clung to your body, leaving literally nothing to the imagination.

Top that off with your red lip... you looked like some kind of dominatrix. Cherry told you that most men secretly wish to be dominated. Although you highly doubted your daddy would want anything like that. Or would he?

“Alright, I’m coming out,” you announced, before shyly stepping out, your eyes trained on the floor as you twiddled with your fingers to maybe distract you from your nerves. “What do you think?”

He was speechless. His jaw almost dropping on the floor when he saw you like that. So far from his sweet girl. You were just as much beautiful and sexy, and while it wasn’t something he was used or prefer to he would welcome it if it was what you wanted.

He extended an arm to you, ready to tell you that you were sexy, that he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body, that he wanted his cock stained the shade of red you wore on your lips, that he was ready to make up for being away for weeks.

Until he saw... that.

He lowly growled your name, making your head snap up to look at him, “What did you do to your pussy?” Because from what he could see, through the sheer material, there was nothing where your pubic hair used to be.

“Uh... I uh... waxed it...” From the tone of his voice you could tell that he wasn’t too happy about it. “Do you not like it?”

“Like?” he scoffed, shaking his head. Taking a seat on the bedding, “C'mere, let me take a closer look.”

Hesitantly, you walked the few strides it took till you were standing before him.

He studied your mould, trying to take the fabric off so he could see it more properly and then tutting when he couldn’t even open the stupid thing.

“Wait, it um... opens here I think,” you interrupted his scrutiny, undoing the zipper that was on your side and taking the suit off of you.

He sighed in resignation when he saw what you had done, making you regret your ever spending so much money and going through all that pain.

He parted your lips apart, running his fingers along your vulva, acquainting himself with this new strange feel of you, “When did do this?” his blue eyes looked up at you.

“Just a couple of days ago. It’s just hair... it’ll grow back in like three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” he scoffed.

You could feel your eyes getting misty. You tried to go all out for him, to please him, be completely naked and vulnerable before him, only to have him get angry at you.

“You don’t like it,” you sniffled.

His furrowed brow softened when he saw you crying, pulling you down till you were straddling his lap, “The question isn’t whether I like it or not,” he explained, his thumb wiping your wet cheeks, “I could... maybe live with it. But I wouldn’t prefer it.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“But for you to have done this,” he touched your newly waxed skin and almost winced at the smoothness, “You must’ve let someone else see you naked. See what belongs to me.”

“Bu - but they were all women...” you stammered, squirming in his lap as his fingers toyed with your clit.

“It doesn’t matter,” he tutted, pushing two fingers inside you, “Only I get to see you. This is MY pussy. Only I get to decide what to do with it. Do you understand?”

You nodded, holding onto his tshirt as he twisted his fingers inside you. “So-sorry, daddy.”

“No, honey, since you were bad you don’t get to call me daddy. For tonight you will address me as sir. And of course you’ll have to be punished.”

“Punished?” you pouted. “Can’t you just let me go since it was my first strike? I’ll be good from now on I promise!”

“No, you have to learn your lesson. Come on,” you yelped as he manhandled you so you were face down across his lap, “What is your safe word?”

“Unicorns” you giggled. You thought you were so witty for coming up with it. Since he for some reason was jealous of your unicorn stuffie.

He hummed, stroking the soft skin of your butt, “How does twenty sound?”

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, looking at him over your shoulder, “No!” you said.

He didn’t really plan on spanking you... did he? He liked swatting your ass here and there, and truth be told you liked it too. But you had never been spanked or even hit as a punishment.

“Well, if not this then maybe we can make you go a week without cumming.”

Your gasp was louder and even more incredulous this time. You could most definitely take twenty swats, but just the thought of not being able to finish, after knowing what an orgasm with Andy feels like, made you shiver.

“You will count each one, and then thank me for it. You are grateful I’m teaching you, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“Do you know how to count to twenty? Or would I have to teach you that too?” he asked ever so condescendingly as you huffed.

“Of course I do! I was just two semesters away from graduating college!” Never mind that you learned that in kindergarten.

“That’s good. Are you ready?” he asked, cracking his knuckles as he got in position.

With a nod from you he delivered the first slap to your right buttcheek, the sound of it reverberating in the room, his palm stinging slightly as he stroked the skin he had just punished, it was already warmer.

“One, sir. Thank you, sir,” you held onto a moan, it wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be...

You jerked forward as he unceremoniously hit your other cheek, since you were unprepared for it, and he was much more brutal.

“Tw-two, sir,” you sniffled.

You considered throwing in the towel and saying your safe word by the time fifteen rolled around. Your behind was on fire, while you couldn’t see it, you just knew it was bruised. But you wanted to be good for Andy and it was wrong of you to do something that drastic without his permission.

“Sixteen...” you hiccupped. You could feel your slick running down your thighs but at this point... you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Do you want a break?” he asked, taking pity on you.

You nodded frantically, “Yes please! Can you... can you touch me? Down there?” Since the pain in your throbbing pussy was unbearable. If you didn’t receive any attention, you might actually burst.

“Down where? Here?” He had the audacity to play down, while you were suffering, and touch the back of your knee to patronise you.

“No!” you whined.

“Well then you’ll have to be a bit more specific, princess.”

“In my... between my legs... my pussy...”

“Are you sure you deserve it though?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that, “No I don’t. Not until I finish my punishment.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his hand massaging your raw ass as your heart swelled in pride.

“Nineteen, sir,” your mind was hazy. It didn’t even feel as if you were in your reality anymore... it was as if you were floating, while you could still hear and feel him spanking you, for some reason it wasn’t as painful anymore.

“The last one, doll, hang in there,” he said before delivering the last swat.

You whimpered, “Twenty, thank you, sir,” willing your nose with the back of your hand.

Andy collected your weak form in his big string arms, rocking you back and forth in his lap as he kept whispering soft praises in your hair, “My sweet beautiful doll,” he pecked you on your lips.

“Sorry about your pants, daddy...” you said when you realised what a wet mess you had made on him.

He shushed you, “Don’t you worry about that right now. Do you want to take a bath?”

You pouted, your red lip jutting out, “No.”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead, “Do you want daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“We have to be careful about your butt, baby,” he said as he gently placed you on the mattress.

Your head on your pillow, besides your two most trusted stuffies--your unicorn and teddy. Andy only allowed you two in the bed after complaining they made it hard for him to cuddle you. You demanded he buy you a shelf to display them or you would go back to your old room. Which of course made him comply instantly.

You made grabby hands at him, impatient to have him closer to you, but then were glad he took the time to take off his tshirt so you could ogle the wide expanse of his chest, the light scattering of fuzzy hair over it, his numerous tattoos along with one of your name, which marked him as yours forever.

He took a hardened nipple in his mouth while his hand tweaked the other, nudging your legs apart to make room for him, he placed his length at your entrance.

Slowly pushing into you, letting you get accustomed to the size of him. Although your pussy was always so welcoming to him, he knew you often struggled to take him.

You whimpered at him, tears rolling off of your face. “What’s wrong, honey? Does it hurt?”

“No... it’s just so good,” you sniffled.

“Okay, just hold on,” you held onto his shoulders as he slowly fucked in to you.

Your pussy clamping around his length, the soles of your feet digging into his ass, “Can I come, daddy?”

“Of course, baby. You earned it.” He groaned, his hips hammering against yours as you bit his neck, letting out a muffled scream.

You hummed against his neck when you felt his warm release fill you up, he pulled out of you, frowning when he looked at your naked and hairless pussy, dripping with his cum.

“From now on I’ll be picking out your clothes,” he stated, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms.

“Okay, daddy,” you hummed.

“And no more surprise bikini waxes.”

“Mmm...” If that’s what you had to do to get in trouble and be punished, then so be it. “We’ll see.”

***

Three days later

“Lotion time, doll,” Andy said, pausing the movie you were both watching to go get said lotion.

He had rubbed your lotion on your backside when he spanked you and decided that he wanted to be the one putting your body lotion on you from now on since he had too much fun doing it. He insisted on doing it twice everyday since it was still very cold.

You followed him to the bedroom, lying face down on the bed a he squeezed some on his palms, rubbing them together to warm them up.

You winced just a little, your skin still a bit sensitive, you even had to sit on a pillow the time.

“Will you be going back to work tomorrow?” you wanted to know.

He didn’t like the sadness in your voice, “Yes,” he sighed. He hated leaving you all by yourself.

“I’ll be all alone then.”

“Didn’t you want to go back to college?” He remembered you telling him that your parents forced you to drop out so that you would marry him.

“I do actually. Hate leaving things incomplete... maybe I can even go to a law school and become a lawyer like you!” you perked up.

“You’re not working for your father though, you’re too good for that world.”

“You’re too good for him too.” You said. “Maybe I can work with you.” And you and him could be like a power couple. It would be so exciting.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#andy barber x reader #good little wife #steve rogers x reader #andy x reader #andy barber x oc #andy barber x you #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #defending jacob fic #andy barber fic

2K notes · View notes

taliaquinn · 4 years

Text

Hamilton AU Part 2

lthI’m really glad to see that you guys loved the Hamilton AU. I really enjoyed seeing all the comments. Sorry for the inactivity I was super busy with getting readjusted and getting the proper amount of sleep. I hope I tagged Everyone if I didn't please feel free to comment here or direct message me. Here is the part two with a bigger presence of the Batfam. :)

“ItwasanecessarysacrificeitwasnecessaryItwasneededtosavemyreputationitwas-” repeating that mantra, Adrien slowly lifted his head from his hands to look over the newspapers, splattered all around his desk. All the headlines glaring at him in bold black print.

SHOCKING: Details Of Adrien Agreste’s Affair Revealed

FASHION INDUSTRY IN CHAOS FOLLOWING ADRIEN AGRESTE ADMITTING AN AFFAIR WITH BRULER INDUSTRIES SECRETARY LILA ROSSI

‘OH YES HE WOULD STAY WHENEVER HE COULD ESCAPE HIS WIFE” ALLEGED MISTRESS LILA ROSSI STATES

MARINETTE AGRESTE IN TATTERS FOLLOWING BOMBSHELL AFFAIR ALLEGATIONS

Adrien couldn’t help but flinch at that specific headline.

Marinette would forgive him. She was head-over-heels in love with him plus she had to forgive him for the sake of Emma, Louis, and Hugo.

He quickly turned and focused on the only headline that mattered.

ADRIEN AGRESTE CLEARED OF ANY FINANCIAL WRONGDOING BY FRENCH INVESTIGATORS

Oh god, he couldn't believe he had let it get that far. He should’ve released the video much earlier before any charges were made public.

How dare they try to frame him. Everyone knew he always did everything in his life perfectly, efficiently, and legally.

That lowly Bruler Board Member trying to extort him of all people. Then have the nerve to accuse him of embezzlement just so they could avoid jail time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the big framed picture of his and Marinette's wedding. Marinette beaming with joy, her arm wrapped around Adrien's.

She looked beautiful that day. No matter what, seeing that picture of her in her wedding dress always managed to take his breath away.

She’ll forgive him. Especially once she knows why Adrien had to take extreme measures.

He threw most of the Newspapers away keeping only that one that cleared him on any legal wrongdoing.

He sat down actively trying to ignore the pings from his cellphone. Before finally reaching over and shutting it off.

He leaned back and thought back to that fateful day that changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien was just walking out of a meeting with the CEO of Bruler Industries when he felt hands wrap around his arm. He shifted to politely ask them to let him go before he was staring at familiar green eyes.

”Oh!?” Adrien is that you?” Lila squealed. Grasping his arm even tighter.

“Lila? It's been so long since I last saw you” he exclaimed awkwardly trying to get his arm released from the Italian grip.

“Far too Long” Lila cried wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He quickly returned the hug. finally breaking it off, after an oddly long time, before walking towards the elevator together

” What are you doing here? Are you working on a Charity collaboration with Bruler Industries?” He asked, he couldn't help but notice Lilas employee id.

“Huh- OH UHM no actually I work here now” She let out quickly taking off her ID and stashing it into her pocket “I got offered a job here once they saw the way I ran one of my charities, They practically begged me to come work for them as a secretary and help them with Organizing”

“Wow, that's amazing” He breathed out stepping onto the elevator with her following closely behind “What a coincidence that we managed to run into each other”

“Sure is” Ha. As if.

Lila had been seeing the Articles written about the “power couple”. Adrien and Marinette. She seethed with jealousy every time an article would appear, praising her work, her charity, and her kindness.

That should’ve been Lila, she should've been the other half of the power couple. She should’ve been the “beloved beautiful Mrs.Agreste.”

This is why she was ecstatic and thrilled when she saw Adrien scheduled for a Meeting with Bruler Industries CEO on the schedule that Assistant Secretaries received each day. She could barely manage to qualify for her job as an assistant secretary to a lower executive, she could only dream of being the CEO’s secretary.

Reading articles and watching videos Lila realized that she wasn’t the only one Jealous of Marinette. Adrien was too. Through the quick glances thrown in his wife's direction or the flickers of annoyance on his face every time Marinette's fans approached her on the streets, who would practically ignore Adrien.

Lila knew it was jealousy. She after all felt it too.

The baker girl surpassed Lila. That enraged her to no end. She was determined to change all of that.

This is why she had to sneak her way onto the top floor barely in time so she could “run” into Adrien. Which was successful.

Shaking back to reality Lila couldn't help but give a quick glance at Adrien next to her in the Elevator, she realized that she had stumbled upon a crucial piece of knowledge that would give her everything she wanted.

There was no way she could let Adrien leave….at least without her.

Lila practically dragged Adrien towards a “close” cafe that just so happened to have an intimate theme. Lila ordered coffee for them both and quickly delved into all her “adventures” she “had” since leaving lycee. Totally false but attention-grabbing as apparent by Adrien's intense concentration on Lila and her adventures.

Lila knew that she didn’t have to worry about Marinette interrupting their little meet-up. She was away. Lila knew this. She saw the news report about Marinette and Her kids landing in Gotham in a private jet.

Adrien was obviously unhappy at the fact that his family was in the States without him for all of the summer. They had to stay in the States for all of the summer because of Marinette. She was a Wayne so she was required to go to the annual Wayne Gala.

Meanwhile, he stayed behind to take care of the Agreste company, fighting to make it even greater, Maintain the image of perfection. He even had the hope that someday it would be able to join Wayne corporations. Until then the Agreste Mansión was empty.

For now.

Lila wasn’t blind she could see the jealousy written on Adrien's face when the topic shifted to his wife. Marinette Wayne-Agreste. beautiful, talented, intelligent, business owner and mother of three.

Plus her parents were Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Corporations, along with Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain who were world-renowned bakers.

Marinette was the envy of all, including her husband.

She reached out and took Adrien's hands into her own. “Oh Adrien just know that you are sooo kind,” putting on a mask of fake worry she continued “I could only wonder how much you worry about her cheating on you, I mean Marinette does go on abroad trips on a daily basis and men practically trip over themselves to talk to her, who knows what goes on when you're not around”

She felt Adrien's hands tighten their grip around her. Lila flashed a triumphant smile before quickly placing a mask of concern over it. If everything went on according to plan soon she might find herself as the new Mrs.Agreste. Soon they both stood up and Adrien offered to walk her home and pay. “ Adrien you are too kind” Lila giggled out.

Oh, Adrien was feeling pleased with being the center of attention, and Lila didn’t even have to milk it that much. After all, He offered to walk her home she didn't even need to ask.

“Oh Adrien it was so much fun talking and chatting again” Lila cooed, batting her eyelashes at him while clutching at his arm. Very reminiscent of their highschool days. Far too soon for Lilas liking they arrived at her hotel.

“Well I should head back home,” He said sheepishly standing inside the hotel lobby.

Lila knew she had one shot. Quickly she flung at Adrien and clasped her hands around her upper arm. “Stay” She pleaded “We haven’t talked in so long, it's too soon for you to go”.

Adrien let out a sigh and saw the hopeful and pleading look in her eyes. Marinette's smiling face flashed in front of him for a sec. But he quickly brushed it aside. Talking to Lila had been such an eye-opening, refreshing experience. Marinette's face flashed once again before Adrien angrily pushed away from the image.

Like Lila said, who knew what Marinette was up to on her trips abroad in Gotham? She probably stayed in her friend's hotel room all the time to talk. Plus He was weak and tired from the long weekend; it surely wouldn’t hurt to stay and chat for a few hours with Lila.

Making up his mind He allowed himself to be led up the hotel stairs.

Lila Quickly led him to her hotel room and opened the door. Adrien without batting an eyelash stepped inside. The door shutting behind him

Unbeknownst to a happy Marinette in Gotham surrounded by her brothers, sister, father, and children the perfect storm has just been created and its name was Lila Rossi

Anyways that's a wrap. I used the tax Evasion accusation since thats similar to what Alexander Hamilton was accused of. Wonder what's coming next >:)

Don't forget to like, reblog and comment, I really look forward to reading your comments since they bring me so much joy. Also if I missed tagging you please just comment again. Apologies :)

Stay Safe and Healthy

S/o to @mikantsume for noticing the Custody thing. Hope this answers your question.

Don’t forget to Like, Reblog and Comment <3

Taglist:

@purplesundaze @silvergold-swirl @k-poplunardreams @pepelachanel @laurcad123 @maribat-is-lifeblood @kass-is-weird @another-fan-of-anotherplan @damianette-is-life @amayakans @parallelparabox @miukiiu @valeks-princess @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha @thezestywalru @dreamykitty25 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @mochinek0 @shamefullove @mochegato @souleateralicestein @thestressmademedoit @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @aestheticnpoetic @flufflepuffle296@mysupporthyperfixations @itsmeevie01 @jeminiikrystal @iglowinggemma28 @whydoexamsexist @kuroko26 @animalgirl05 @susiej1118 @damianthebratboy @ccwkm6967 @valyui901601 @wannajointhecrabcult @thornalchemist23 @tazanna-blythe @rebecarojas07 @moonlightstar64 @chylou34 @thecrazyfantrolls @iamablinkmarvelarmy @boldlydecadentkitty @thornalchemist23 @tazanna-blythe @blackmagicforever @blueboobutterfly @sharingiscaringapparently @starlightshield @mikantsume

#miraculous ladybug #hamilton #hamiltonau #BatFam #damian wayne #Jason Todd #dick grayson #Tim Drake #adrien salt #adrien agreste #lila salt

270 notes · View notes

saintobio · 3 years

Note

okay, first off-- i love, LOVE SO FRIGGING MUCH 'sincerely not'. i usually have a problem with depictions of cheating in fanfic because sadly my faves are the cheaters and represented as cartoony ass-holes or, when the cheating is well written, they're depicted out of character. with sincerely not it doesn't happen, and while i wish that gojo gets pink eye and loses his inheritance (??, it is in character with him and the context. i just applaud you so much and i can't wait to see how it plans out everything.

now, in relationship to the last chapter: 1) i just wish to see more people supporting Y/N, seriously, Gojo and Sera are shitting all over her and she just gets the short end of the stick while they get to live their forbidden romance stuff. AND THE WORST PART IS THAT POOR READER TAKES THE FALL. seriously, i just wanna give the girl a big ass hug and get her out of that enviroment. 2) seriously sera, do you seriously thought that the man who is MARRIED would not make love to his WIFE not even once?? and you complain about being betrayed when you're the mistress that gets the love and gifts?! seriously, and poor Reader having a clear illness from her chest pains but noooo, for gojo is all about sera. i just hope that, dunno, at the very least gojo suffers. he has to, but i know that at the points it happens we'll suffer too because by then he will be attached to reader. 3) man, toji was such a breath of fresh air. someone said he's usually depicted as a smexy man who only thinks about sex, but strangely enough while i think that it's not so far of an approach to toji, this one is really in character according to the universe?? AND THE REFERENCES TO MEGUMI AND HIS WIFE?? seriously, i just want YN to spend more time with him. now, to close off, pett's stupid theories about what could happen in later chapters: 1) reader gets fed up with gojo's shit and starts to make his life a living hell, how? getting where it hurts: either to make him believe she's falling for another and thus threaten his position with the marriage (i've been thinking about one of my favorite scenes ever with them, and basically it would be reader luring Gojo to a bar to meet with, say, toji or nanami and then she makes him believe they're having a romance); 2) gojo learns about the birth control. shit goes down, knowing gojo he would totally say she's trying to tie him down/sabotage him and sera, u know usual sn!gojo stuff... but the thing is, the reader snaps. but not a simple screaming match, she makes it hurt. she tells him about how she would've never wanted to marry a man like him, how he's been mistreating her, how he humilliates her with sera but acts all high and mighty thinking she's some evil woman out there trying to make him miserable, and that she won't take the fall that gojo's life has gone downhill since it's not her fault. and 3 (and maybe tied down to number 2)) reader... reader leaves. she's tired, and we know it, she's been trying to make things work hard. and sure, maybe she can stop caring, maybe she could play his games... but she would end up like him, she would become the monster her husband accuses her to be. so, even for a little while, she says "fuck this shit" and leaves. maybe she tries to follow her dreams. maybe she even get in contact with gen (i love gen so much, i kinda ship her and toji, sorry), toji, maki and mai and plans stuff out. and gojo thinks she'll come crawling back, bawling to him but... she doesn't. she doesn't pick up his calls. she doesn't reds his texts and he can't tell shit because he will have to own for his shit to his father. when reader comes back, maybe and knowing gojo, they would fight, but maybe with reader having a clearer mind it won't? who knows i just want consequences for gojo(?? 4) some romance comes from another male character towards reader. my bets are toji (his rival, reader reminds him of his wife/megumi's mom and he's already stablished in the sn!universe), nanami (a wild guess and maybe unexpected, but in canon he's always portrayed as a foil to gojo when it comes to values and personality, and he's always been really caring of people so i could see him falling for reader) and my really wild guess: GETO. he's known to not approve of this and maybe we could say gojo is running on thin ice with him, imagine if he falls for his WIFE and goes to the point to going against his best friend to protect said best friend's wife. if a love triangle happens with another male chara, gojo and mc, i would bet my money on nanami and geto since it kinda seems toji would be a platonic

relationship, buuuuuut who knows

either way these are my dumbass theories, i don't want to impose them on you because believe me, sincerely not is and will be amazing regardless if any theory is true, and i cannot thank you enough for this heartwrenching story and your dedication to it. you deserve the best!

omg this was a lot to process and i have no words except wow !! thank u so much for taking the time to write these down <33 the analyses and theories were rly fun to read :’)

#saintobio.asks #series: sincerely not

35 notes · View notes

ill-skillsgard · 3 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

109 notes · View notes

glassartpeasants · 4 years

Text

Crybaby

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating, toxic relationships, fighting

A/n: @zuffer-weird-girl Hehe sending out my troops of tear collectors as we speak >:)

~~~

“Can you just listen to me for once Kai?! It feels like everything im saying to you goes in one ear and out the other!” You scream at your husband who refused to listen to anything you had to say.

“I was listening! It’s just everything you say pisses me off or makes no god damn sense! Who can you expect me to listen to you when all you do is cry!”

“Maybe i cry cause im fucking human?!” The arguing between you and your husband had been going on for hours. At least that’s what it felt like. Arguing with Kai was like arguing with a brick wall. The fight never goes anywhere and it feels like you can never win.

“Can you just shut up for once! God it feels like every time I talk to you it makes me want to slam my head against a wall! You are so insufferable!” Kai screamed in your face.

You were never good with yelling. Which is probably why tears were streaming down your face now. You were always a bit more on the sensitive side anyways.

“See your crying right now! Your such a fucking crybaby!” He screamed at you once more, making even more tears then before. You bit your lips and curled your hands into fists. You looked up at Kai your vision blurred from your tears.

“If you hate me crying so much why did you even fucking ask me to marry you then?!” You scream in his face.

“I don’t even fucking know anymore!” He screamed at you right back. Before you could do anything rationally, your hand slaps Kai right in the face. Effectively knocking off his mask. You didn’t mean it really, inside you wanted to apologize but your anger got the best of you.

“If you don’t know anymore then I’ll just leave!” You say as your feet start taking you outside of your shared bedroom.

“I never needed you anyways!” Kai screamed from the top of his lungs which rang through the entire compound.

Your feet carried you even faster out of the compound to the point of running. You couldn’t stand to hear him. Or even see him for that matter. You just wanted time to yourself.

~~~

Once you were away from the compound you reached a little park that was nearby.

You settle on a little bench that looked out over the playground that laid in the park. You put your hand on your chin as you watched little kids playing on it, seemingly enjoy the time of their lives.

It was little moments like this where you wanted a kid but then you remembered that what would be the point in having a kid when most of the time you and your husband fight about everything.

“Maybe us getting married was a mistake?” You say to yourself as you look down at the ground kicking around a little rock.

‘When was the last time we even slept in the same bed?’ You sat back as you looked at the tree that hung over you.

It as a good question. The amount of times you guys fought couldn’t be counted on both hands. You both always said hurtful things, trying to make the other give up and say that the other side was right. It was such a toxic situation. Every time after each fight you cried to the point you threw up. Sometimes it wasn’t the fight itself, it’s the thought of was the love he had for you even real in the first place?

You guys may have been married but he was always cold and distant. You thought it would change, but it didn’t. He would always be at work and he would always never say good morning or good night to you. You did it all the time. It didn’t matter which emotion you were feeling you would always say the same thing.

You knew about Kai’s past and you wanted to show him that you weren’t ever going to leave him so that’s why you did your best to show moral support for anything he did and you always told him where you were going before you even left.

Something Kai never did.

Kai never told you anything. Where he was going, what he was doing, where he was. He never told you anything which made you get suspicious. You didn’t want to accuse Kai for cheating or anything like that so you kept your bottled emotions to yourself, which always came bursting out in tears when you guys argued. Sure you were sensitive, but sometimes you just can’t help but feel the need to just burst out crying, which eventually lead to the name crybaby, given to you by your oh so loving husband.

You felt hot, wet tears pouring down your face as you were pulled out of your thoughts.

“God damn it.” You say in a hushed voice.

You sigh before standing up and going back home. If it were up to you, you wouldn’t be. You would be staying the night at a friends house or something but Kai was the only person you had. Your friends abandoned you after finding out you were dating a criminal and your parents disowned you for being quirkless. You were just a mess at this point. But you digress.

~~~

As you step back into the compound you notice a pair of red heels that you’ve never seen before. You sure as hell you don’t own red heels like that. Maybe Kai had gotten them for you? They were certainly beautiful.

Thinking Kai had gotten them for you as a make up gift or something you go to tell him thank you before stopping in front of your bedroom door. You furrow your eyebrows before putting your ear on the door before lifting you head away while covering your mouth.

You slowly back away from the door before hitting the way behind you as you slowly slide down it onto you butt. One thing was for sure and that was,

Kai didn’t give you those shoes. Those were HER shoes.

You should’ve known. Kai had never gotten you gifts before so why would he now? You choke on your own tears as you hiccuped and sobbed into your hands.

Anger filled your entire being as you stood up and stomped right towards the door before kicking it open. And you were right.

Kai was with another woman.

“You fucking liar! What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?!” You scream at him. The door slamming open scared him and the girl as well. He turned and saw your tearing face, realizing that he had been caught.

“Babe who’s this?” The girl asked Kai with a questionable look.

“‘Babe?!’ I’m his fucking wife! How long has this been going on?!”

“Wife? Well not anymore i guess. Looks like he found someone better.” The girl only laughed at you. Hot angry tears streamed down your face.

“Damn who knew your wife was such a fucking crybaby!” The girl only laughed harder before being dragged onto the floor by the bed by her hair by you.

“You such a fucking whore! Who dare you! You don’t fucking know me!” You scream at her as you threw punches at her. You both started yelling profanities at each other. She was scratching at your face while you punched hers.

“(Y/N) stop!” Kai screamed at you trying to pull you off the other girl which earned him a big punch in the face.

“I fucking hate you! If you didn’t want me you should’ve just told me! I can’t believe i gave up everything to fucking be with you! I loved you! I was always there for you and you think i fucking deserve this?!” You stood up as you looked at both of them. Blood seeped from the scratches that the girl gave you.

Kai said nothing as he looked at you right in the eye. Looking at what was once something he cherished to something he threw away.

“Oh you got nothing to say now you cheating bastard?!” You scream at him.

“ANSWER ME KAI CHISAKI!” Nothing.

“I’m fucking done with you. I never want to see your cheating ass again. Have fun with your slutty mistress.” You say as you turn around slamming the door behind you as you walk towards the door.

Fuck Kai, fuck his mistress, fuck your life. What have you done to deserve such a hell fire? All you ever did was try to love Kai and give him all of you, which he never cared about.

“What’s so wrong with me? What about me is not good enough?” Tears flowing down your face as you storm out the door not before grabbing those red heels and chucking them into a nearby dumpster.

You look back at the compound only to hear the sound of the door opening and seeing Kai struggling to put his belt on as he tried to catch you.

You turn back and you run as fast as you can, which was pretty easy as he was still struggling with his belt. You could hear his cries of your name getting farther and farther away until you could no longer hear him.

“You didn’t want a crybaby then Kai, so why would you want me now?”

#overhaul #overhaul x reader #mha #bnha #kai chisaki x reader #overhaul angst #chisaki overhaul #mha overhaul #kai chisaki #kai #shie hassaikai #bnha angst #mha angst

226 notes · View notes

jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

Text

I’d put a crown at your feet... (Part I)

For the dearest @marilynmonroefanfics 💝👄

Hope you’ll like the story.

TW: mentions of smut

June 1972. Castle of Balmoral.

Walking through the Scottish lands, Philip Mountbatten, Duke of Edinburgh, was in a foul mood.

He felt like his life was falling apart for two years. Or maybe for more years?

He did not remember when it went sour, but for sure, he knew that his life was a complete mess.

First of all, his marriage was falling apart: he and Elizabeth grew distant from each other. Farewell, the sweet romance of the beginning! Even the birth of Edward, their last child, did not manage to patch things up between them.

Secondly, his “dear” wife did not show any maternal love for their children. She cast Charles, Anne, Andrew, and Edward away, often scolding them for their mistakes and barely complimenting their efforts or successes.

Philip had to admit that he was not really present for his children, but he was not at ease with them. Moreover, Elizabeth took perverse pleasure remembering his royal duties.

But the final straw was when he discovered that his spouse enjoyed the company of other men, to say the least.

Amazing! And he was the one the press accused of being a cheating husband! It is a topsy-turvy world!

As he was brooding over the disaster of his personal life, he did not hear the sound of a four-wheel-drive coming near to him until a familiar voice called him:

"Hello there, dear brother-in-law!"

He turned around and saw Margaret at the wheel of her vehicle, a slight smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Invading Scotland! Seriously, I'm escaping from my sister's boring sycophants! They were wasting my day!"

Philip smirked: his sister-in-law was the best person to understand how he felt in this oppressive world. Even if they did not have the same character, Philip and Margaret managed to get along. Especially since they had to tolerate Elizabeth's obnoxious behavior for some years.

"If you talk about the Daniels and the Furlingtons, you took the best decision! I would do the same!"

"Is it not what you're currently doing? Escaping from my dear sister at long strides?"

The prince shrugged.

"Maybe..."

"I see... Fancy a ride?"

"Is it risky?" joked Philip.

"Oh, don't be such a coward! Get in the car!"

"How could I refuse such a lovely request?" said her brother-in-law with irony as he climbed in the car!

Soon after, they were driving into the Scottish countryside, enjoying the view at every turn. Philip admitted that his legs needed some rest after his long walk.

After half an hour of driving, Margaret stopped the car, and they appreciated the point of view.

"Well, I have to tell: you are an excellent driver!"

"Oh, I had a good teacher! Dad and I used to drive there when I was younger!"

She sadly smiled.

"I remember his laugh... He told me how bold I was!"

"I wish I could have those kinds of memories with my own father!" answered Philip.

"Sure, you were not lucky!"

Both stayed silent, watching the calm landscape until Margaret spoke again.

"If Dad were among us, he would never let Elizabeth behaving that way with you or the children!"

"You're probably right. Unfortunately, I don't know what your mother thinks about it!"

"Don't worry about that! She often criticizes Lizzie for her lack of maternal love! She said that the monarch of Great Britain should never forget both their royal obligations and their parental duties!"

"Regrettably, your sister does not really care about it!"

Margaret scoffed.

"You bet she did not listen! My dear sister repeats that her children are more a burden than a blessing!"

She turned towards Philip.

"Speaking of that, make some effort, damn it! It looks like you're trying to avoid them at any cost! Don't you love your children?"

This question hit Philip like a punch!

"What are you talking about? Of course, I love my children!"

"Then, act like it! They are craving affection, and they cannot count on their mother for that! They need their father, and if you don't do anything to rectify the situation, you will regret it!"

The Duke of Edinburgh sighed.

"I know that it's not an excuse, but nobody taught me how to be a father. I tried my best, but I only witness the disaster I've created!"

"Don't be so pessimistic, or you're going to make me depressed! Sincerely, between you and my sister, you are the better parent! You just have to improve it, and it's not too late!"

She frowned.

"But I can't even believe Lizzie dared cheat on you with this jackass!"

"You know the name of her lover?"

"The most recent one? Of course, I know his name... and you know him too!"

"Who is it?"

"You won't like it... But it's Roger Acherville, one of your squires!"

Enraged, Philip struck the dashboard.

"DAMN IT! THIS RASCAL BOWED AND SCRAPED IN FRONT OF ME, BUT SHARED MY WIFE'S BED!"

Margaret bit her lip: she wished she never had to tell that news to her brother-in-law, but she must tell him the truth, even if it hurts like hell!

"I'm sorry, Philip. I'd prefer never tell you this..."

He interrupted her.

"No, you were right. You did well to tell me who my wife is cheating on me with right now!"

Philip was upset. How could Elizabeth do such a thing to him, after all they have been through together?

"But now I don't know what to do ..."

He turned to Margaret and saw that she was wearing a big, mischievous smile.

The kind of smile that announced that she had an idea behind her head and that didn't promise well.

"What are you going to tell me again as a twisted idea?"

"You know the law of retaliation: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth..."

"I know this motto, indeed. And then?"

"Well, what I mean is... I allow you to get your own back on my sister!"

Philip opened his eyes wide: he thought he hallucinated? Did Margaret just authorize him to cheat on Elizabeth?

Years ago, she would have torn his eyes out if he ever imagines that possibility!

But now, the circumstances were different, and she was his best ally in Buckingham Palace.

Moreover, the idea of finding solace in someone else's arms was not unpleasant...

He nodded.

"Alright! You convinced me!"

"Really?"

"Yes! After all, why my dear wife should be the one having fun?"

"That's the spirit, dear in-law! Before you start finding a lover, do you know what would make me happy?"

"What?"

"Shave that goddamn beard! You look like a caveman!"

The prince consort laughed: he almost forgot his bushy beard!

"What is the problem with that? It looks nice to me! People would think that I am an explorer! Or a Viking: after all, I am a Danish prince! Or maybe Socrates, as I am a Greek Prince too!"

"Of course, and I look like the lost twin of Marilyn Monroe!" she taunted the Duke while playfully punching him on the shoulder.

The two royals laughed and spoke for a long time, far from their daily issues. After all, this day was the beginning of a new journey for Philip Mountbatten...

Two months later. August 1972

Philip adjusted his bow tie: he hoped he wasn't doing anything stupid by accepting Margaret's invitation to one of her parties. She had promised him that he would not be bored and that he might find the perfect person.

He sighed: he knew he was running a risk looking for a mistress.

If ever the press caught him in the arms of a woman, his reputation was gone! And his wife would not hesitate to put him down!

Straightening his chest, he gave a satisfied smile and got ready to join his sister-in-law when his son Andrew entered the room:

"Good evening, father ... Oh, you are very elegant!"

"Thanks, Andrew."

"Are you going out tonight?"

"Indeed, yes. I'm accompanying your Aunt Margaret to one of her parties. According to her, I am the guest of honor."

The 12-year-old boy nodded.

"Does ... Mother approve of this?"

"I have to. At least, your father will stop my sister from doing something stupid!" answered a familiar voice.

With these words, Queen Elizabeth entered the room. Dressed in a pearl gray satin dress, she had put on her most exquisite jewelry. She looked stern, almost disdainful.

"Good evening, mother. You are beautiful tonight!"

The queen ignored the compliment and turned to her husband.

"Can I count on you so that Margaret doesn't end up dead drunk in another man's bed?"

"I'll do my best ... And you, what have you planned tonight?"

"I'm attending a reception at the Indian Embassy. As for Mother, she spends the evening with her lady-in-waiting, and Edward stays with them."

"And what about Charles and Anne?"

"I have no idea, and I don't want to know!"

Philip raised his eyebrows.

"I thought every parent should be worried about their children's nighttime activities!"

She replied in an annoyed tone.

"Oh, don't say such nonsense! They are old enough to fend for themselves! Besides, I have other priorities!"

She glanced at the clock that sat quietly in the back of the room.

"If you have nothing else to tell me, I'll leave you! I have to go to the embassy! Have a good evening!"

She turned on her heels and took off at a brisk pace, leaving her husband and son alone.

The Duke saw the sad look on Andrew's face and felt pain for him: how many times has he witnessed his wife ignore their children's words?

He tried to cheer his son up:

"Come on, it's nothing. I'm sure your compliment made your mother happy!"

Andrew replied:

"Don't bother too much about it, father. She does not care what I tell her. And she does the same to Charles, Anne, and even Edward!"

The young boy turned his gaze to his father:

"Even you, she snubs you all the time!"

"Well ... let's say that between adults, things can get more complicated!"

"Well, that doesn't make you want to be an adult!"

Philip laughed at the clear opinion of his third child.

"Don't worry, it won't be like this all the time! I'm sure you'll find someone you get along with!"

"I hope so too..."

Changing the subject, Philip asked:

"So what about you? What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm staying with Grandma and Edward. At least, I am sure to have a good evening!"

"I think so too. Well, I have to leave you: if I arrive late, your aunt might strangle me!"

"What are you waiting for? Go ahead!"

"I'm going! See you tomorrow!"

"See you tomorrow, father!"

Philip kissed his son on the forehead before heading outside the palace, where a limousine awaited him.

He got into the back of the vehicle and ordered his driver:

"We can go, Henry! Let's go to Princess Margaret's residence!"

"Right away, Your Highness!"

And the vehicle set off, taking the prince to the place of the party.

A few minutes later, he arrived outside Kensington Palace, where several luxury cars were already parked in the driveway.

With a steady step, he entered the house where a butler greeted him with deference:

"Welcome to Kensington Palace, Your Royal Highness."

"Thank you. Could you tell the Princess that I have arrived?"

"She's in the main living room, Your Highness. If you please follow me, sir ..."

The Duke of Edinburgh followed the servant into a large room with dancing music and laughter.

Philip spotted Margaret, in her best dress, chatting happily with her guests.

The butler walked up to his employer and announced:

"Lady Snowden, His Royal Highness Duke Philip of Edinburgh has arrived."

"Perfect! He's coming at the right time! Thanks, Howard!" Margaret exclaimed before going to greet her brother-in-law.

"Good evening, Philip. I see you dressed up… But you still haven't shaved your goddamn beard! What did I tell you?"

“This must be my rebellious side…” smirked Philip.

This remark amused the princess, who grinned.

"You got the point!"

She took his wrist.

"Come on! I have some lovely people to introduce you to!"

And so Philip became acquainted with singers, actors, dancers, musicians, artists, and other socialites of good English society.

Suddenly, he noticed the presence of a young man who was talking to some artists.

Although he tried to stay focused on the conversation, he found it difficult to take his eyes off this mysterious young man.

The latter had dark skin, raven hair, and intense ebony eyes. Dressed in an elegant black suit, he was rather slender and had elegant hands.

Philip saw that he was wearing light makeup that showed off his face.

Margaret saw that her brother-in-law seemed hypnotized by the young man. She smiled:

"Tell me, Philip, would you like me to do the introductions with that handsome brunette over there?"

"What? Come on, Margaret, you don't have to ..."

"No way! Follow me!"

Letting out a long sigh, the Duke followed the Princess, who addressed her guests:

"So, are you having fun?"

"Absolutely, Maggie! This night is awesome!"

"I am delighted about it!"

She turned to the man who accompanied the mysterious young man.

"Jonathan, you nasty little secretive! You did not present me this delicious young person who accompanies you!"

"Where are my good manners? Margaret, Prince Philip, let me introduce you to Piero De Angelis! He is a model of your husband Anthony!"

"I should have guessed! Anthony has always had an eye for beauty!"

The British princess turned to the man named Piero.

"And you, my dear, how do you like this evening? Are you having fun, I hope?"

"Oh yes, Your Highness. I'm having a great evening!"

The prince noticed that he had a voice that was soft enough for a man.

"I am delighted about it!" smiled Margaret, who nudged Philip lightly.

The latter, having understood the message, cleared his throat before asking:

"Like that, your name is Piero? Like the character from commedia dell'arte?"

"Not quite, but I admit it sounds like it! My name is spelled P-I-E-R-O, while the character is spelled P-I-E-R-R-O-T. That is all the difference!"

"I see ... When you take a closer look, you look a bit like him!"

"Oh, really? Do I look melancholic?"

"No, but your makeup is as subtle as his!"

His sister-in-law slapped her forehead: she feared Philip might bring out one of his sharp sense of humor. His jokes tend to upset those involved.

However, she did not expect Piero to respond maliciously:

"Beware, Your Highness: appearances are often deceptive. For example, when I look at you, I can say that it must be several centuries since you last saw a shaving foam!"

This gibe amused Margaret, who gave a fit of laughter, while the other guests gasped in horror: how dared this young commoner speaking to the prince consort with such poor manners?

As for Philip, he was taken aback: no one ever ventured to respond to one of his jokes. But he had to say: Piero had some spirit, and he liked that!

He laughed:

"Well played! I appreciate people with some character!"

Philip offered his hand to the young man:

"I know when I lost the game."

Smiling, the young Mister De Angelis shook hands with the prince:

"It was an honor verbally sparring with a member of the Royal family!"

At the second their hands touched, Philip felt like electricity went all over his body. He thought it has been years since he underwent such emotion...

As for Piero, he was mesmerized: he always found Prince Philip attractive when he saw him on official pictures, but now, the young man could affirm that the prince consort was handsome, to say the least.

The young man also observed that Philip's piercing eyes hid something else, but he could not tell what: sadness? Or melancholy? Hope?

Yet, he was sure that the Duke of Edinburgh was not as happy as he seemed.

When they stopped shaking hands, Piero bowed respectfully before Philip:

"It was a pleasure speaking with you, sir."

"The pleasure was mine, Signore De Angelis."

Amused, the young man slightly bowed his head before he turned his heels and walked away.

Philip smirked: this young Piero was the most interesting man he ever met so far.

He glanced at Margaret, who smirked slightly. Looks like she had something in her mind...

"What?"

"Nothing... I just confirm that you find your match!" she muttered as she sipped her glass of Martini.

Rolling his eyes, Philip answered:

"Please, do not make overly ambitious plans!"

"What? Do not give me that stern look!"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Philip glanced at the young man with a sly smile on his face: he had the feeling that Piero would have an intriguing role in the future...

Two weeks later, at Kensington Palace.

In the main living room of the palace, Philip and Margaret talked about many gossips and their respective marriages.

"I'm glad to hear that you and Anthony are on better terms!"

"Yes. I would not lie, it was struggling. But, in the end, it is worth fighting for!"

The prince nodded before sighing:

"I really hoped that things would get better between Elizabeth and me. Unfortunately, I have to certify that it only worsens! She avoids me most of the time, and I am sure she pretends to have different appointments to be with this Acherville!"

His sister-in-law puts a sympathetic hand on his arm.

"I am sincerely sorry for this, Philip."

"Thank you, Margaret. But, my hardship only strengthens my desire to see someone else... Someone who can love me for who I am!"

An impish smile came across Margaret's face.

"A little bird tells me that you have a specific young man in your mind, am I right?"

The Duke of Edinburgh raised his hands in defeat.

"There's no fooling you!"

The princess squealed in delight.

"I knew it! I saw this little sparkle in your eyes that says a lot about your feelings!"

"Wait a minute... Are not you upset by the fact that I may be romantically involved with a man?"

She shrugged.

"As if I care! Choose whoever you want to sleep with, as long as it gets on Lizzie's nerves!"

"I recognize your open-minded character!" chuckled Philip.

"Indeed."

"Speaking of him, what can you tell me about this Piero De Angelis?"

"Are you reading on my mind? I was about to tell you what I know so far!"

"Go ahead!"

She cleared her throat and answered:

"Well, I asked my best friend, Lady Anne Tennant, to give me some pieces of information about him. According to her, he was born in a middle-class family who fled Italy during World War Two. Loving parents, close relationships with his siblings. A nice life, to sum up.

He is six years older than Charles. She also told me that he graduated from Oxford, but he prefers modeling. He sometimes worked as a tutor for children of noble families. I approve of his model career: he has such good looks! It would be a shame not to take advantage of it!"

"Sure... What about his temperament? His hobbies?"

"As far as I know, he is an artist: he loves drawing, sculpting, dancing, taking artistic pictures, painting, acting, and singing! A perfect artist, I tell you. Those who know him say that he is patient, charming, cultivated, smart, polite, and humble... He has some humor, but you have already noticed it. Ah, I almost forgot! He has some... unusual tastes!"

Philip raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't imagine something scandalous! It's just that he loves good fashion, jewels, and perfumes."

"He has a fondness for feminine things..."

"Exactly. Is it not a problem?"

"Oh, I would handle... At least, I'll have someone to give those kinds of presents!"

"That's the Philip I know! I might add that he currently lives in the area of Westbourne, in the neighborhood of Notting Hill... which is not far from here!"

"You planned everything, did not you?"

"I learn to anticipate, dear in-law! He lives in a small house, so you won't be disturbed by potential housemates."

Philip smiled before saying:

"Alright. So, am I supposed to go there, and ask him out?"

Her grin confused the prince consort.

"Oh, dear... That won't be necessary!"

As Philip was about to ask what she meant, a butler appeared:

"Your Highness, Mister De Angelis is here. Shall I let him in?"

"Perfect, just in time! Let him in, Howard!"

The prince could not believe his ears:

"You invite him?"

"Of course, dear in-law! Like this, you would get to know each other better!"

At the same time, Piero entered the room, escorted by the butler. Margaret gave her warmest smile towards the young man:

"Piero, caro mio! What a pleasure to see you! How are you since the last time?"

"I am fine, thank you. I did not expect an invitation from you..."

He noticed the presence of Philip and bowed:

"Your Highness..."

"Mister De Angelis..."

Suddenly, Margaret stood up from her place and said:

"Well, you know what? I'll pop over Lady Anne and picking some pastries, while you two have a nice little conversation. I would not be too long..."

"What? But..." started Philip.

"No protest in my house! Alright, see you later!"

She turned her heels and walked out of the palace, followed by her butler.

The two men stood silent, looking at each other. Piero broke the silence as he tried a joke:

"I see that you finally shaved your beard..."

The prince chuckled:

"Yes, indeed. As you can see, my interview with the shaving foam went well."

"I hope my joke didn't offend you."

"Absolutely not. I'm fond of that kind of blunt humor, and I was pretty happy to find someone to share it with!"

"You see me honored, Your Highness."

Philip shook his head negatively.

"No formalities with me: we are not at Buckingham Palace! You can call me Philip!"

Piero was surprised by this inquiry but didn't really pay attention:

"However you like, Philip. In that case, you can call me Piero. Or Peter, if you prefer."

"Understood, Piero."

The young man asked:

"Did your wife ask you to shave?"

Piero regretted asking that question because he saw a glimmer of sadness in the Duke's eyes.

The latter sighed:

"No, I was the one who took that initiative. And to be honest, my wife doesn't really care about my hair choices. In fact, she doesn't really care about me at all!"

This revelation surprised Piero: he did not expect Prince Philip to make such a confession to him about his married life!

"You ... are you arguing?"

"If only that was all that! But unfortunately, there is also indifference, contempt, and estrangement!"

"I am sincerely sorry for you, Your Highness. But you know, all may not be lost: things will surely work out ..."

Philip laughed bitterly:

"How I would like to be as optimistic as you! But when the person you love goes to seek passion elsewhere, you no longer have any illusions!"

"Indeed, seen from that angle, it is a bad start to save a marriage ... But why are you telling me all this? You do not have to tell me these things."

With these words, the prince approached the young artist and replied:

“That's right, I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it. But I've been looking for someone for so long who could listen to me and understand me. I'm tired of feeling isolated… Nonetheless, ever since I met you, Piero, it's like the light has returned to my life. Yes, I know we barely got to know each other, but I've always trusted my instincts when it comes to people I meet, and I've been right every time. "

Piero began to understand where the duke was going and panicked:

"Huh? Oh no! No, no, no, and three times no!"

"What do you mean?" Philip asked, confused.

"I can see exactly what you want to ask, and I refuse! I don't want to be a simple consolation prize! I saw what it was like to be the lover of a king or a prince, and it doesn't make you want to be one! "

He continued in a calm tone:

"I have no doubt that you are a handsome man with many qualities, but I cannot accept being just a passing lover until the day you reconcile with the queen. I do not like the idea of being a simple shoulder to cry on that you give up as soon as everything is better. "

Philip was speechless: he expected everything but that! However, he should have waited a bit before declaring his love. But the tension in his relationship was so unbearable that he despaired finding someone he could love unconditionally.

And this young Piero was the person he needed ... he still had to accept!

Philip dropped to his knees in front of the young man, and took his hands between his while looking at him with pleading eyes:

"I swear Piero: if you were to become my lover, it's because I feel like no love exists anymore between Elizabeth and me. I suffered from abandonment when I was just a child, and I know only too well the harm it does. I would never do this to a person who is dear to me..."

"But get up, damn it! If we were seen like that ..." Piero stammered, panicked.

"I don't care! I know you are suspicious of beautiful promises, but I swear to you that I will never disappoint you. You will always be showered with gifts ..."

"Hang on! I'm not a materialist!"

"I know, I know ... I will make sure to spend time with you, I will call you regularly ... I will be the most devoted lover that can exist!"

The young man laughs lightly:

"Please, it feels like a Barbara Cartland novel!"

"Thank you for this unflattering comparison!" grumbled the prince, who smiled.

Philip stood up and asked:

"What are you going to decide?"

Piero bit his lip: to tell the truth, he was torn between two feelings. On the one hand, he was scared to become the lover of the Duke of Edinburgh. He did not want to betray the Queen and being the next prey of the press!

But on the other side, he had to admit that he was always fascinated by Prince Philip and his magnetic charm. And then there was this vulnerability in this man that the young man found irresistible.

After a few minutes of thought, he replied:

"I admit that this somewhat surprising declaration of love took me by surprise. And even if I do not want to be an accomplice in adultery, I want to give you a chance!"

Reassured, Philip dared to kiss the young man's tanned forehead and replied:

"I promise you won't regret it! How much time do I have ahead of me?"

"Two months. I think that will give me time to see if I can give it a go or not."

"And that will be more than enough to convince you!" Philip laughed.

10 months later. May 1973

The spring sun sneaked through the curtains, caressing Piero's sleepy face.

The latter woke up slowly and opened his eyes, a smile on his face.

He turned and fondly looked at his sleeping lover.

The young man smiled when he saw Philip so appeased: he was happy to have accepted the prince consort's proposal.

At the same time, the latter succeeded in his probationary period: he was a considerate, loving, affectionate, and caring boyfriend.

Piero had never had so many presents in his life: the number of beautiful clothes that filled his wardrobe was impressive. And what about the magnificent jewelry that Philip brought back from his official trips?

All this had convinced the young man to become Prince Philip's lover, but also his confidant: it was to him that the Duke of Edinburgh told of his marital misfortunes and his doubts about his ability to be a good father for their children. And Piero felt privileged to be one of the few to know Philip's emotional wounds.

But what made their relationship so intense was when they had sex. Although the prince was a middle-aged man, he was an experienced and vigorous lover. The first time they had sex, they took their time to get to know each other's bodies better and to have fun.

The other times, the antics were more intense, even passionate ... as was the case last night, when they "celebrated" Philip's return from an official trip to America.

He remembered the feel of Philip's rough yet gentle hands on his body, their bodies moving against each other, their cries of pleasure filling the air... It was a pleasant experience, even if it was the umpteenth time they made love.

Of course, the two lovers would like to see each other more often, but they had to be discreet so as not to attract the attention of the media, let alone that of the Queen.

But hey, that didn't bother Piero who was delighted not to become the new darling of London.

Suddenly he felt Philip stretch and wake up. The prince turned to his lover and smiled at him:

"Hello, mein Liebe. You are very early."

"To believe that I took your bad habit!" the young man smiled.

"But it's not a bad habit to be early in the morning. On the contrary, it gives me more time to enjoy your presence ..." the duke replied before kissing his lover.

"Speaking of having time to spare, wasn't it today that you promised Charles to have lunch with him?"

"Damn, I almost forgot!" Philip exclaimed, hopping out of bed before rushing into the bathroom.

"What a scatterbrain!" Piero laughed while getting dressed.

"I heard you!"

"That was the goal, amore!" replied the young man, teasingly.

5 minutes later, the Duke comes out of the bathroom, ready to return to his obligations.

"Am I presentable?"

"Honestly, you are still handsome!"

Smiling, Philip kissed his lover's cheek:

"I'll call you tonight, I promise."

"I will wait impatiently for your call ... Come on, go join your son!"

"I'm going right now. See you tonight!"

"See you tonight!"

As the Duke left the house, Peter lay still on his bed, a thoughtful smile on his lips.

He was glad that the relationship between Philip and his children had improved, especially thanks to his advice.

Piero had relied on his life with his parents and siblings to empower his lover to be a more present father to his children.

Speaking of which, Piero would love to meet his lover's offspring: seeing how Philip talks about it, they must be very nice young people.

He would love to talk about the arts with Charles, who seemed to be very passionate about it.

He would also appreciate being able to walk with Anne and talk about lots of things or reassure her about her future as a young bride.

He would love to give fashion advice to Andrew who was already paying attention to his appearance when he was only 13 years old.

And he would be happy to spend time with Edward, the youngest of the siblings.

This boy worried his father a lot because he was silent and always seemed sad...

Suddenly the phone rang, interrupting Piero's thoughts.

He picked up the phone:

"Hello?"

"**Dear Piero, how are you?**"

"Oh, hello, Margaret. I'm fine, thank you. How about you?"

"**Oh, it's okay. As much as I wish I hadn't had tea with Sally Frodenborough! This woman is so boring, I thought I was going to fall asleep!**"

The young man laughed.

"Now do you understand why I politely decline her invitations for tea?"

"**You'll tell me so much ... But let's forget about it! Tell me instead about your relationship with my esteemed brother-in-law! How is it going?**"

"It's a fairy tale, I can't say better!"

Piero knew he owed it all to Margaret: she was the one who introduced them at that party at Kensington Palace. Since then, she had become an ally and a friend of the couple and did not hesitate to invite them to her home so that they could meet again.

All this with the benevolent complicity of her husband, Anthony.

Over time, the princess and the young artist became good friends, and she often invited Piero to have tea at her place.

"**Glad to hear that, darling. Besides, I have to say that your relationship is very positive for Philip. He is happier, more serene, and closer to his children. You did a great job!**"

"I only encouraged him, he did the rest!"

"**Don't be so modest! However, I think my sister is suspecting something!**"

Hearing this, Piero felt a chill run through his spine: if the queen ever learned that her husband was cheating on her with a simple artist, he feared the worst!

"When you say she suspects something, do you mean she suspects Philip of adultery?"

"**No, I wouldn't go that far. But she can see the change in Philip's mood and she knows it's not her responsibility. She's not really trying to find out, but let's be careful!**"

"You're right ... But, I admit that there are times I wish I could spend more time with Philip. I understand he's doing his best without raising suspicion, but ..."

"**I see what you mean, and I understand you ... Oh wait: I just got an idea!**"

"Again? But it never stops"

"**My dad always said I was the most imaginative of the family. Okay, here's what we could do...**"

A week later, at Buckingham Palace.

In one of the palace rooms, Queen Elizabeth was having tea with her mother, Queen Mum.

"But what is Margaret doing? She should have been here since 10 minutes ago!" the sovereign said impatiently.

"Don't be so harsh on your sister, Lilibeth. I've heard that traffic in London is a bit chaotic right now. If so, she got stuck in a traffic jam."

"Maybe ..." Elizabeth replied.

Suddenly a servant entered the room and announced:

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Margaret, your Majesty!"

"Finally, here she is! Let her in, thank you!"

The servant shifted and let Margaret in, accompanied by a dark, smartly dressed young man.

"Hello, my dear sister! Hello, mom! Sorry for the inconvenience, but there was an accident near Piccadilly Circus which disrupted all traffic. I thought we would never get there!"

"You see, Elizabeth: I was right ..."

"Indeed, mum. But tell me, Margaret, who is this man with you?"

"I was just going to explain it to you: you see, I thought back to your history of tutoring for Andrew and Edward. And it turns out that this young man, Piero De Angelis, worked as a tutor in very good families. Here, I have some letters of recommendation from them. " she said, handing out a few missives.

Elizabeth took the letters and read them in silence. After reading it, she said:

"My word, your former employers are heap praise on you, Mr. De Angelis. They compliment your pedagogy, your intellect, as well as your patience with children."

She gave a slight smile.

"Since my sister seems to find you suitable for her nephews, I think we can take you on for a trial period."

Piero respectfully bowed while giving the monarch a hand kiss.

"It would be a great honor for me to serve you, Your Majesty!"

"This young man looks very pleasant to me. In my opinion, your sons will be in good hands!" said the Queen Mother, amused.

"Thank you for placing your trust in me, Your Excellency!" Piero replied, giving a slight bow.

At the same time, the door opened and Philip entered the room.

"Ah, Philip: at the right time! I present to you Andrew and Edward's new tutor."

Seeing who it was, Philip thought he was having a heart attack: but what was Piero doing here? It was too risky!

When he saw Margaret by his side, it didn't take long for him to realize that she had yet come up with a completely crazy idea.

Straightening up slightly, he cleared his throat and politely said:

"Welcome, sir ..."

"My name is Piero De Angelis, Your Highness. It is a huge honor to meet you in person!"

The duke refrained from smiling: he had forgotten that his lover was an excellent actor. And he had just proven his talent in front of everyone!

"And how did he convince you to hire him?"

"He was warmly recommended to me by several high society families. All were satisfied with the work of Mr. De Angelis. It seemed logical to me to have a competent person to supervise the education of your youngest sons."

"Sounds perfectly fine to me!" replied the prince consort.

Satisfied with her husband's response, the Queen said:

"Perfect. Then maybe you could introduce Mister De Angelis to his future students?"

"But of course. If you will follow me, sir ..."

And as they were about to leave, Margaret followed on their heels:

"I'm going with them, just to make sure Philip would not terrorize the poor schoolmaster!"

"Hey, I am not a monster!" scoffed Philip.

The three left the room. The duke waited to be far from his wife to scolding his lover and his sister-in-law.

"What's got into you? Did you ever think about the risk of being caught?"

"Oh, don't be such a coward! I thought you would be pleased to have your lovebird here!" whispered Margaret.

"And I thought it would be easier for you if I work here. You won't have to find excuses to see me... Besides, I wanted to meet your children."

The prince consort raised an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me: I wanted to meet your children. You talked about them since we started dating, that I aspired to know them better."

Philip pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed: it would be a miracle if Margaret and Piero did not drive him crazy. But, at least, he would manage to spend quality time with his sweetheart. So, why not take the risk?

"Fine, you convinced me. But, we have to intensify our discretion. Otherwise, we will be doomed!"

"I'll be careful, don't worry!" promised Piero as he gently held his lover's hand.

"Aw, you are so cute!" mockingly cooed Margaret.

"Please, Maggie: stop killing the mood!" grumbled the prince consort, rolling his eyes.

4 months later. August 1973.

"How do you find my drawing, Piero?"

"Let me look at it... Oh, it's beautiful! You have some talent, Edward!"

The young boy happily giggled: he really appreciated his new tutor. Unlike his predecessor, Piero was kind, patient, funny, and really interesting. Thanks to him, the little prince quickly understood his lesson by heart, and his grades improved. The same evolution can be noticed for Andrew: the teenager preferred learning with Piero to listening to his teachers at school.

"You think I am talented?"

"Absolutely! And for who you draw this?"

"For Anne! It would be her present for her wedding!"

"That's absolutely sweet, Edward. I am sure that she would love it!"

Speaking of the princess, she entered the room.

"Good afternoon, Mister De Angelis! Hello, Eddie!"

"Hi, Annie!"

"Good afternoon, Your Highness. How are you today?"

"Fine, thanks. I just come back from a horse-riding session with Mark!"

"Oh, lovely. How it went?"

"It went nice until it started raining. But we finished fast, so I would not soil the clean wooden floors of Buckingham Palace!" snickered Anne.

"Annie! Look what I've drawn for you!" cheerfully exclaimed Edward as he handed his drawing to his sister.

"Oh, thank you: I love it! I will show it to Mark: he would be impressed!"

"Can I draw something for him?"

"Why don't you ask him when he will come back?"

"Alright, I will wait!"

At the same time, Andrew entered the room, dressed in a nice suit.

"Good grief! I thought Mr. Brownsfield would never let us go!"

"Watch your language, young man! If your mother hears you, you will end up being lectured for hours!" gently advised Piero.

"I know, I know... But I am so relieved to be here!"

"I have noticed!"

Anne lightly cleared her throat.

"Piero, can we talk... in private with Andrew and you?"

"Of course! Edward, could you go with your grandmother? I have to discuss some important topics with your siblings."

"Are we finishing the lesson?"

"Yes, indeed. You can go!"

"Alright!" nodded the young boy as he exited the salon.

Soon as Edward left, the young man asked:

"What do you want to talk about, Anne?"

The princess sighed before answering:

"Well, it's about Charles... He is not well."

"Do you mean he is ill?"

"Depressed would be more accurate!"

"Oh, dear! And what depress him?"

Andrew explained:

"Well, his ex-girlfriend got married in July! And he did not really cope with their separation, months ago!"

Piero nodded: he knew that Charles was heart-broken since Camilla Shand, his former sweetheart, ended their love story last year. But he did not expect to be downcast to this point.

"And do you want me... to have a conversation with him?"

"Anne and I thought it would be helpful. After all, you are close to his age!"

"Mark tried to cheer his mood, but it did not work well!"

"Mh, I see... Fine, I will see what I can do!"

The two princes seemed relieved.

"Thank you for your help, Piero."

"That's what I am supposed to do. Where is he?"

"In the gardens. He needed some air..."

Thanking Anne and Andrew, Piero walked downstairs to the gardens where he found Charles, wandering like a lost soul.

"Charles?"

The Crown Prince looked at the schoolmaster and the latter saw deep grief in his eyes.

Slightly sighing, Piero kindly asked:

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I... I don't know."

"As you want. Perhaps it would take a weight off your mind..."

The prince breathed before asking:

"Could you walk with me... please?"

"Sure, of course."

The young man joined Charles, and they started walking through the gardens.

"I don't know how it happened... I should have known that she favored that Parker-Bowles over me! But I still clung to the last straw of hope until I heard of their engagement!"

"I'm sorry for your heartbreak, Charles. But that was another life lesson, even though it hurts..."

The Prince of Wales sadly sighed.

"And as if it was not painful enough, Mother still pressures me to find a suitable bride... Even Father worried about it!"

"You are only 25 years old: you will find her, I feel it!"

"If only my dear parents were as optimistic as you, Piero. But no, they repeated all day long that Father married Mother when he was my age, and I'm exhausted hearing it all the time!"

"What does your grandmother think about it?"

"She says that I should not hurry to find my future wife, because a hasty marriage would inevitably end in a disaster!"

Piero nodded.

"Your grandmother is right, Charles: if you only follow what your duties command, you will bitterly regret your decision for the rest of your life. Of course, you have to find your future Queen, but you must love her as much as she loves you!"

He saw tears forming in Charles's eyes.

"I know but... I feel like everything I do is not enough for my parents. Am I just a good for nothing?"

Instinctively, the young artist knew that he would break the etiquette... but who cares? So, he did hug Charles in a comforting embrace, gently stroking his back.

"It's okay, Charles. I am here."

The prince did not cry, but he felt relieved that someone finally comforted him, so he hugged back Piero.

"I know this is not very formal, but I thought it would help you!"

"To hell with formality! I needed someone listening to me..."

They stopped the hug and Charles stated:

"I understand why Andrew and Edward appreciated you, Mister De Angelis: your patience and your kindness are helpful for the four of us!"

Piero shrugged.

"I just... do what I think is the best for everyone!"

"And I am glad that someone like you ensures our well-being..."

The young man smiled.

"You have no idea how much I am honored to have your trust, Charles. Listen: I will talk with your parents about it, and we will sort it out!"

"Thank you, Piero."

Unbeknownst to the two men, Philip was looking at them from the window of his office. The Duke of Edinburgh smiled while seeing his lover bonding with his son: indeed, he was happy that his four children appreciated Piero. Even though neither of them is ready to tell the princes the truth about their relationship: they have to wait...

In the evening...

"Do you want your son going bonkers? Stop pressuring him about his love life!"

"But he is still unmarried! At his age..."

"Yes, yes, I know the story: at his age, you were already married to Elizabeth!"

Philip pinched the bridge of his nose: Piero and he argued about Charles's single status. His beloved artist thought that his eldest son would go down into depression because of the familial pressure.

"Piero, I understand your concern about Charles, but he knows his duties..."

"Oh, please: don't start lecturing me about duties! If you were that meticulous about duties, you would never choose to cheat on your wife!"

"Don't muddle up things, would you? She started the war!"

"Don't change the subject, would you? We are talking about your son, in case you forget it!"

Piero sighed.

"Charles believed that he felt like a failure towards you. And he can't count on his mother to dismiss his fears! For God's sake, be more supportive of your son!"

"But..."

"No buts! You have to admit that your eldest son is not your carbon copy!"

"I admitted it! But people start talking: he is unmarried, had no official girlfriends, and he prefers attending parties! Rumors are spreading all around the kingdom."

His lover gave him a dark look and said with a cold tone:

"Let me ask you this simple question, Philip of Edinburgh: what matters the most for you? The public image or the well-being of your son?"

Philip stayed silent, much to Piero's displeasure:

"Fine, I see... You know what? You have all night to think about it."

He turned his heels and walked away.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Did you really think I will spend the rest of the night with someone who does not listen to my advice? I really want to help you, Philip, and especially because I love you. But if you don't pull your weight, there is nothing more I can do. Good night!"

As he watched his lover walking away from him, the prince stood, desperate and worried. He messed up everything with his children, and now he messed up his love affair!

Philip sighed: why everything was so complicated? But, he had to acknowledge that Piero was right: he went back to his wrong habits, once again.

And if he wanted to save what mattered the most to him, Philip had no other choice: he had to repair his faults...

14th November 1973.

The Westminster Abbey bells happily rang in the air. Indeed, the United Kingdom celebrated the wedding of Princess Anne and Captain Mark Phillips. A joyous day for the kingdom, and also for the royal family... Well, almost for Philip. Of course, he was so proud to walk his daughter down the aisle: what kind of father would not be happy for his child on this special day?

But what saddened the prince consort was that Piero barely talked to him since their argument about Charles. He could not blame him: the young man cared more about Charles, Anne, Andrew, and Edward than their own mother.

As he watched his lovely Anne and Mark exchanging their vows, the prince spotted Piero, sitting near the Duchess of Gloucester.

He knew that his wife allowed the presence of the young man at the ceremony to look after Edward, who was the page boy of his sister.

Piero was dashing in his pearl-grey suit, his white gloves, and his perfectly combed dark hair. Philip never ceased to be amazed by the angelic beauty of his lover. If only they did not argue 4 months ago, the prince would have already told the young artist how amazing he was.

But the young man was not inclined to speak with him yet, and this situation saddened Philip.

Meanwhile, Margaret saw the two lovers with a sad smile: she hoped that this argument between Piero and Philip would not last long, as she feared it would break her brother-in-law's heart. She knew that the young Mister De Angelis was the only one for Philip, and she could not let this match made in heaven falling apart.

Margaret smiled as she got another idea: the wedding reception will be the perfect occasion for a reconciliation...

Soon as they reached Buckingham Palace for the wedding lunch, Margaret whispered to Philip:

"Please, I know that you suffer, but talk to him!"

"I want to, but every time I look in his eyes... I only see anger and sadness. And I am the one who upset him!"

She gently patted his shoulder.

"You know what? Weddings are the best occasion to prove our love... or heal a relationship."

She winked before walking away, congratulating the newlyweds. As he thought about Maggie's musings, Philip smirked: after all, he learned to never give up what he held dear. And he would never give up on Piero...

Later that day, as the guests were too busy dancing, gossiping, or enjoying food, the prince slipped away from the crowd and wandered in the corridors when he spotted Piero in a room, retouching his make-up.

Smiling, Philip entered and said:

"Oh, dear: you do not need to change anything. You are already beautiful!"

Startled, the young artist stammered:

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, I think.

Piero raised an eyebrow:

"Really? About what?"

Philip closed the door behind him before answering:

"We need to talk about us. It feels like years since I hold you in my arms..."

"And why you do not hold me in your arms, precisely?"

The prince sighed.

"Because of my stubbornness, we are apart. And I regret it every second since that night. You were right from the beginning, Piero: what is the purpose of your help if I did not listen to your advice? I should have known that you're the right person since you only wanted the best for me. My words might sound hollow, but I will be grateful to you for being here when I felt alone!"

The young man sighed before looking at his royal lover with a sheepish smile:

"I had to confess: at first, I did not speak to you because I wanted to be sure you learned your lesson. But then... I took pleasure letting you stew for a moment."

Philip was shocked.

"Are you bloody kidding me?"

"Not at all. Besides... I already forgive you, my stubborn Viking!"

The prince smirked:

"And they said Arlequin is the trickster in chief... Looks like they underestimated Pierrot!"

"And you love it!"

"Oh yes!"

Piero laughed wholeheartedly. Then, he stated:

"So, you said that you missed the sensation of holding me..."

He opened his arms:

"Why don't we make up for lost time?"

Philip did not need to be asked twice and rushed into his arms, kissing him feverishly. Their hands rediscovered their bodies, every touch drawing breathed moans of pleasure from the two lovers.

"I love you, Piero."

"Ti amo, Philip."

And while the kingdom celebrated the wedding, the prince and the artist rejoiced in their reunion.

June 1975. Balmoral Castle.

The summer went well for the royal family, and everyone appreciated the peacefulness of the Scottish countryside. For Piero, it was like discovering another place. He was amazed by the soft colors of the countryside and the calm surroundings, far from the lively Londonian life.

To be honest, he did not expect the Queen to invite him to spend some days at Balmoral, but apparently, Edward insisted, and she accepted. How could he refuse the opportunity to be closer to his dear Philip?

However, they both tried to be careful as he did not want to be caught by Elizabeth or the Queen Mother.

But everything changed one day, as Elizabeth left with some of her friends for a horse-riding stroll with some of her friends, and her dear Mister Acherville.

It did not bother Philip, as he took advantage of her absence to spend some time with his dear artist. Once his wife went away, he looked for Piero until he found him in the gallery room, looking at the different pictures hanging on the walls.

Coming near to him, the prince gently held the young man from behind and said:

"Are you judging the quality of the paintings?"

"Well, I have to be honest that the painters were talented. Your wife should add your own paintings!"

"Seriously? She said it would look out of place... Besides, you are far more talented than me!"

Piero chuckled:

"You flatterer!"

"It is the truth! You're my perfect little Da Vinci!"

The young man turned around and put his arms around Philip's neck:

"And you're my handsome Saint John the Baptist with a mischievous smile!"

"You like my mischievous part of me!"

"No, I don't like it... I adore it!" chuckled Piero before kissing his lover.

Amused, the prince answered the kiss with the same passion... until they heard a collective gasp of shock!

They turned around and saw Charles, Anne, Mark, Andrew, and Edward who stood near the door, astounded and silent.

Horrified, Philip stammered:

"I... I can explain everything..."

"You better explain, yes!" said Anne with a cold tone.

Mark closed the door behind them, preventing any gossiping from the staff.

"Now that we are alone, can you explain what happens?"

"This scene does not really need an explanation..." smirked Charles.

Ashamed, the prince started to explain:

"I guess that we do not have the choice. As you have noticed, your mother and I do not have a good relationship for some years. I thought that it would improve, but she decided to spend some time with another man. I was so desperate, and I neglected you - and I am sorry for that. And then, your aunt Margaret introduced me to Piero..."

"Auntie Maggie and her plans!" snickered Andrew.

"You got the point, Andrew. And so, at the very moment I knew Piero, I felt like something changed... To be honest, I felt that I fell in love again. I would be forever grateful to Piero for everything he did for me."

"Was it your idea to hire him as Andrew and Edward's tutor?" asked Charles.

"No, it was again Margaret's idea. And I saw how you felt better since he spends time with all of you!"

"Do you plan to tell us the truth one day?" asked Andrew.

"We aspired to, but I do not want you to see me as an intruder in your family. But I can assure you that I deeply love your father as he loves me!" explained Piero.

The five young people looked at each other before Edward answered:

"You know, Mister Piero, I don't mind if you are in love with Papa. Besides, you love all of us more than Mum does. So, I am happy to have you here with us!"

"He is right: at least, you listen to us and you try to encourage us, unlike Mother!" added Andrew.

"I do not really care about my parents' affairs, as we all know that their marriage is doomed. But now, let's be honest, Piero: you made him happy, and it matters the most for us!" stated Charles with a genuine smile.

"I have to confess that this is quite unusual... But, my dear Anne has a high opinion of you, Mister De Angelis, and so am I. Don't worry, we won't tell anyone about your affair!" smiled Mark.

"You see, Father, we all support you, and we are happy to have Piero with us at Buckingham Palace. So, there is no need to worry." grinned Anne.

The two lovers sighed with relief: at least, they accepted their relationship.

"Thank you very much!" breathed Philip with a slight smile.

"You're welcome, Father. But, the next time you want to show Piero your affection... Try being discreet!" laughed Andrew.

"He takes that from you, dear!" chuckled Piero.

"I guess so..." sighed Philip, even if he could not help smiling.

It looked like, after all, that they gained new allies...

27 August 1979.

In his house, Piero was dozing on his couch, reading a collection of poetry works by Oscar Wilde while he listened to some trendy music on the radio.

Suddenly, he heard the voice of a journalist interrupting the music:

"Ladies and gentleman, we interrupt our program as dreadful news has just been released by Buckingham Palace: today, Lord Louis Mountbatten, Admiral of the Fleet and former Viceroy of India, has been killed by a bomb planted aboard his fishing boat while he was spending his holiday with his family in his summer home in Mullaghmore, in the north-west of Ireland.

We deplored also the tragic loss of his grandson Nicholas Knatchbull and Paul Maxwell, a young local crew member. The remaining people present on the boat when the attack happened, suffered from serious injuries and were transported to the closest hospital..."

Piero dropped his book, troubled: it could not be! He rushed to his phone and dialed Philip's number. After a few seconds, he heard his lover's voice:

"**Hello?**"

"Philip, it's me! I have just heard about your uncle! Is that true?"

The slight sobbing on the other side of the phone answered his question:

"**They... They murdered him, Piero! They killed him! And they took his grandson's life! How dared they?**"

"I am terribly sorry for your loss, my love. I know how much he was a loved one to you..."

After all, Louis Mountbatten was not only the uncle of Philip: he was his paternal figure, a role model he praised so many times. Piero could not imagine how his lover suffered from this tragic loss.

"My condolences, amore mio. You are in my prayers, you and your family. I hope that the injured will recover soon."

"I hope so... Thank you for your call."

"You're welcome. How are the children?"

"Charles is deeply upset, Anne is crying, Andrew cannot believe it, and Edward tried to cope with this tragedy."

"I imagine... Don't hesitate to comfort them."

"I will... I am sorry, but I have to quit: Elizabeth required my help to organize the funeral. I'll call you later."

"Don't worry, it's fine. See you later, my love."

"See you later, angelo mio!"

As he hung up, Piero felt bad for Philip: his lover endured so many hardships in his life that the young man wondered if he can handle this new tragedy...

5th September 1979.

Sitting in his living-room, Peter watched the funeral of Louis Mountbatten on television. He watched the royal family, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and her husband Denis, and some major figures of the kingdom attending the obsequies, all dressed in black and showing a sad expression on their faces.

The young man wished he could attend the funeral, just to be here for Philip and comforting him. But it was the mourning of a family, and he did not belong to this family...

Later that day, he heard a knock on his door.

"I don't remember to entertain someone today..." muttered Piero as he opened the door.

Much to his surprise, Philip stood there.

"Philip? But what are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you... Because I have something to tell you. May I come in?"

"Of course!"

The young man stepped aside and let the prince enter the house. Then, he closed the door behind him and asked:

"Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright. May I know what are doing here?"

He noticed that Philip held a large box under his arm.

"Hm, what is this?"

The duke sighed before explaining:

"Since the murder of my uncle, I thought about everything that happened in my life, both good and bad memories. And then, I thought about us, and I realize how important you are to me since we started our relationship. I wish I had met you sooner, but there we are. This tragedy casts light on the most significant person in my life: you."

He opened the box, revealing a golden crown before he put the ornament at Piero's feet. Then, he gets on one knee and said:

"You deserve everything, Piero. And moreover, you would be a wonderful consort. That's why I wanted to put a crown at your feet..."

"Wait for a second: it looks like a proposal... But you are already married!"

"I know, I know. I cannot divorce Elizabeth, and I think you understand that. But it is my way to say that I will belong to you, and you only for the rest of my life. And I wanted to know if you feel the same..."

Piero nervously chuckled.

"Oh Lord, that was unexpected!"

He kneeled near Philip and replied:

"I won't ask you to nullify your marriage, because I know what are the consequences. But I am moved by your gesture, and if you want to know, I will never look at someone else the way I am looking at you. I love you, Philip Mountbatten, and it won't change..."

"I love you too, Piero De Angelis." smiled Philip, relieved, before he kissed Piero.

As they tightly held each other, the two lovers felt like the sadness was less oppressive. They had the impression that nothing could tear them apart and they will surpass everything together.

October 1979.

"So, tell me more about this charming girl. What is her name, already?"

"Her name is Diana. Diana Spencer."

"What a lovely name! Is she the daughter of Count John Spencer?"

"Exactly."

Walking through the halls of Buckingham Palace, Charles and Piero were talking about the Crown Prince's new girlfriend, the young Diana Spencer.

"I know that you're dating her for perhaps one month, but how is your relationship?"

"Quite good, to be honest. She is calm, smiling, quite smart... Of course, she had different hobbies than mine but... I guess it's alright."

"I would like to meet her. I can invite both of you to my place if you want."

"It would be a pleasure."

A servant arrived.

"Mister De Angelis."

"Yes?"

"Her Majesty The Queen requires your presence in her office. If you please follow me..."

Piero was intrigued: why would the Queen want to see him?

"Alright, I arrive. See you later, your Highness."

"See you later, Mister De Angelis."

Piero followed the servant until they arrived in front of the door. The man knocked at the door before he announced:

"Mister De Angelis, Your Majesty."

"Perfect, George. Good afternoon, Mister De Angelis."

"Your Majesty," replied Piero.

The servant left the room.

The young man politely said:

"Your Majesty, I renew my condolences after the tragic loss of Lord Mountbatten... I shall say that I share your pain."

The Queen answered in a neutral tone:

"Thank you for your consideration, Mister De Angelis. However, the pain is not the only thing we share..."

Puzzled, Piero asked:

"May I know what are you talking about?"

She looked at him with contempt:

"Don't you dare think I am a fool, Mister De Angelis? I have learned that you have an affair with my husband!"

Piero stared in amazement: how could she know about it? He was sure none of the children told their mother, neither Margaret nor Philip. So, it must be a servant...

"I am astounded by such accusations, Your Majesty. Your husband and I have only cordial relationships, and that's all!"

"Stop spreading your lies. I know that you are the mysterious person my husband comes to see almost every day."

She came closer to him and snarled:

"I gave you my trust, I even left my children with you, and this is how you thanked me?"

Usually, the young artist would have lowered his head and being ashamed. But this time, he stared defiantly at her and said with a cold tone:

"Maybe I would be the rudest man in your kingdom, Your Majesty, but I can't stand such hypocrisy. Especially when it comes from someone who hurt her children and cheated on her devoted husband..."

"How dare you?!"

"I can ask you the same. You did not expect that I knew your dirty little secrets, am I right? After all, your lover was not really careful: he put his latest love letter in my office. What a big mistake!"

He restrained himself from smiling as he saw Elizabeth grew pale.

"But, I am a gentleman: I won't tell the media about your romance if you let us alone. Otherwise, the entire Commonwealth will hear about his adulterous Queen..."

"You have some nerve to threaten me as you do, Mister De Angelis..."

"I don't threaten, I warn: this is all the difference. After all, you would not have hesitated to destroy my life. Let's say that we are on equal terms for now..."

Suddenly, Philip and Margaret burst through the door.

"Ah, right in time, Philip. I have just tell Mister De Angelis that I knew about your affair."

As Philip was shocked, Margaret raised an eyebrow.

"And then? It's not like Philip was the only guilty!"

"You were supposed to support me, not to defy me!" snapped Elizabeth.

"How am I supposed to do that, as you enjoy belittle all your family members - it is a miracle that Mother is the only exception. And you deserve what happened..."

"Should I understand that you are behind this?"

"Absolutely, and I won't regret anything I did! And I am so glad that Philip has someone who did what you are supposed to do!"

The Queen fumed as she understood that her sister and her husband joined forces against her.

Philip added:

"You see, Elizabeth: you throw me away, but I won't running after you anymore. I finally find love again, and if you dare to mess up everything, I would not mind telling your friends about your relationship with Acherville."

Seething, Elizabeth raised her head in an arrogant gesture and declared:

"That is not going to happen for long, Philip. You know where your place is, and you will give this entertainer up!"

"I don't think so, dear wife. I am not the one who gives up so easily..."

He smirked.

"Now that you know everything, shall we leave you?"

"You're dismissed. Now, go!" she replied with a short tone.

The trio left the room, a relieved smile on their faces. However, they won't drop their guard, as they knew how embittered Elizabeth can be.

But it looked like she lost the war. Now, it was Philip and Piero's turn to conquer Buckingham Palace...

To be continued...

N.B: This request is written like an AU and changed many things from the characters to the events.

Please be kind and comprehensive and don’t snap about it!

Anyway, I hope you liked the story and I am waiting for your requests.

See you soon! 😘😷😍🥰💖

#requests #the crown #the crown au #prince philip #queen elizabeth ii #princess margaret #matt smith #drew roy #claire foy #vanessa kirby

43 notes · View notes

gossipgirls · 3 years

Note

You are actually the first person in a really long time to say that Tripp and Ben were really predatory towards Serena. Can you explain why?

oh yes, i LOVE ranting about this and how much i hate them.

the ick factor of her relationship with ben is probably more obvious than tripp, to me at least, but i have seen a lot of people defend ben, shockingly, so i’ll go into detail anyway. he DEFINITELY had a crush on a 15 year old girl, he seemingly met up with her outside of school frequently, and that moment they had at the inn where he brushes her hair out of her face...? 🤢 he ultimately rejects her advances, fine, and what lily did to him was wrong and it’s obviously understandable to be angry when you’re essentially framed for something you didn’t do, but to spend years plotting your revenge on this teenage girl, trying to literally ruin her life, without even stopping for a single minute to admit the fact that your relationship with her actually WAS inappropriate even if you didn’t physically act on it? it’s weird. and deeply tragic for serena in a way that i don’t even know how to articulate.

so that’s all bad enough, but what’s worse is the fact that he literally DID PURSUE A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH HER AS SOON AS HE COULD...? it felt very groomer-ish. he was an authority figure in her life when she was a minor and he made her feel special when she was a minor (when she’s like “it was nice to have someone pay attention to me for positive things and he was the only person to ever say no to me and i was in love with him because of that” ...i want to cry for so many reasons), which gives him a certain kind of influence over her that he very much abused. plus, “oh, so she didn’t accuse me of the thing i thought she did? guess i’ll give up my long-planned plot to ruin her life and make out with her instead like i always wished i could.” again, i just don’t even know how to properly articulate why this is so gross of him and sad for serena, but it is. what i hate the most is that he was just absolved of all of this and people were like “aw we misjudged him :)” and it was presented as if lily was the only villain in this situation.

for tripp, i feel like it’s the typical “older, powerful man cheating on his uptight wife with a 19 year old girl” thing except that tripp at least wasn’t that much older (though he did feel much older considering his career). that alone tends to be at least a little uncomfortable, since it to me always looks like a man using a younger woman because she’s hot, but he would never be with her in public (opting to, of course, stay with the Morally Upstanding good wife... madonna vs whore and all that) because after all, she’s only good for one particular thing. this man doesn’t really care about this woman, he doesn’t really love her like he says he does, he in fact could not care less about who she is as a person. what makes this so painfully clear for tripp and serena is when he literally leaves serena to die. he swore he loved her, but in the end he literally did not truly care if she lived or died and ran right back to maureen, and left the poor stupid mistress alone, injured in the middle of nowhere.

#grooming tw #i have no idea what triggers i could tag this as so please let me know if there's anything!#long post #answered #anonymous #serena van der woodsen #tripp van der bilt #ben sharp

29 notes · View notes

masterthespianduchovny · 3 years

Note

No please share your theory if only you want to though. Well I mean David did kinda almost slip up when he said years age Nate's the single guy lol & him unintentionally always bringing her up and Gillian is getting flustered and shit and whatnot all the time when he's brought up. In your OWN opinion do you think that DD is also captivated/charmed with GA's charisma and her being her in general?

Wait, what does “Nate’s the single guy” refer to again?

Full disclosure: the only thing I claim to be true is that David and Gillian are friends, which I’ve stated before last Sunday.

This is all speculation on my end and I don’t claim it’s the truth by any means.

Personally, the only way I can make sense of David and Gillian’s is if they were/are having a torrid affair.

Antis will claim this is a fantasy of mine, but I don’t fantasize about people having affairs. However, I am realistic that these things happen.

As I mentioned in another post, how is Gillian still flustered about a question she literally answers several times a year for almost 30 years? Why can’t she give a straight answer? Why does she lie and sometimes contradict herself?

Because she was and currently is involved with David in an on again/off again affair. Depending on her answer, they’re either involved at that moment and/or she’s upset at him.

Where as David can answer the question, but he slips up in other ways.

And it explains why they’d lie about it.

Let’s get something clear: they’ve always admitted that they’ve had a complicated relationship, which they are open about, but they’ve never said they’ve hated each other.

Part of the reason is that they both have dominant personalities, the other reason is that they couldn’t or wouldn’t commit to each other for whatever reason. Then when they got married to their respective spouses and had kids, but still fucked around, they couldn’t expose their indiscretions.

They’re both trying to protect their kids, David more so than Gillian. David’s father cheating, and then leaving his mom for his mistress, deeply shaped David and his brother. People may think this is ironjc and hypocritical, but sometimes kids mimic their parents behavior. Even the toxic shit. As a result, he doesn’t want his kids finding out what he did because he knows what it could do to them. It’s also to spare their former spouses embarrassment (to be honest, I’m not sure David and Gillian would ever receive public blowback for it, esp now. People already think they’re fucking, so what difference would it make). Acknowledging that they ever hooked up leads to questions about when, and then people doing the math.

Gillian’s marriage was from ‘94-‘97 and David’s from ‘97-‘14. Okay, so maybe Gillian was single for a few months and David was single during his separations from tea. I’m not sure there’s a lot of overlap where they were both technically single at the same time. David dated Perry and the woman who dated det white. There has almost always been a relationship going on.

So if they’ve been fucking on and off for almost 30 years, it wasn’t always when both were single. One or both of them were definitely in relationships.

Something we know happened: Gillian admitted that they were talking (as in trying to see if it could lead somewhere) when David lost interest because she wasn’t from New York.

So there is evidence straight out of Gillian’s mouth that when they first met they kinda hit it off in that way before David walked away.

During the dark ages, you know the time they famously ‘hated’ each other, David elopes and doesn’t tell Gillian. Months later, her and David are doing an interview for print or video where they interview each other. Gillian brings up tea and is like, “you must’ve really liked tea to marry her so quick” and “why didn’t you tell me that you were getting married?” This isn’t verbatim, but the gist of it. David says, “you’re still mad about that?”

Let’s take a moment to note how weird that is. They hate each other, right? Why would Gillian fucking care that David didn’t tell her he was getting married and that it happened so quick? It doesn’t matter, but she was hurt by that. She really was. It wasn’t friend hurt, it was jealousy and betrayal.

David hates Gillian, but makes snarky remarks about her boyfriend Roland aka “six pack” (or is it eight pack). “Well, he hates her right, so it makes sense he’d make cracks about her boyfriend?” Well, years later, it’s an inside joke between them.

Their failed relationships are inside jokes to them. Does anyone else find it unusual how often they joke about their failed marriages and relationships? How is this something apart of their narrative or necessary when talking about how long they’ve known each other?

The only way their behavior and responses makes sense to me is if their relationship is messy as hell.

Why would you lie about how close you are to someone unless you had something to hide?

When you comb through their history and read/see what they were doing and what they said, it doesn’t match this narrative that they hated each other. They were at a difficult point in their relationship, personally and professionally, and that bled over into work and interviews. But they’ve always maintained that it wasn’t hate, it was just complicated.

I think in “ghost in the machine” Gillian pretends to blow David. They insisted on doing the “cut” FTF loss and I write cut in parenthesis because, although it was cut, it shouldn’t have existed. They made out twice for fun. Why? Why would you make out for fun with someone you hate? And didn’t this occur during the dark ages? In the unnatural, after tea leaves the set, David starts humping Gillian and she giggles. Yes, two people who hate each other right there.

Their relationship was so tense and complicated because they were stubborn, proud, and strong willed. Those type of people are bound to clash. Throw in their work environment and their relationships, it was a pressure cooker. An explosion waiting to happen.

When people say they hated each other, the question is why and how did they get over that?

There’s never an answer for it. Or when they do claim something, it’s disproven.

And that’s because they didn’t.

If they hated each other, they wouldn’t have done IWTB, various cons together, or even seasons 10 and 11.

Could I be 100% wrong about this, ABSOLUTELY.

Look, it’s no skin off my back if I’m wrong.

I just can never shake the sensation of how Gillian looks like she’s about to be caught or is scared when she’s on a late night show and someone says “picture” and “David” in the same sentence. She looks shaken.

What was up with their kimmel interview?

Why we they basically flirting while talking about hooking up with women?

I expect anon hate accusing me of saying “you said that they had a horrid affair doe 30 years.” 🙄 “but Gillian was so in love with Peter and David loves young pussy.” But my whole point is, I don’t know what to make of their relationship and this is the only thing that makes sense to me. Both of those things could be true in these hypothetical anon hates, it still doesn’t change what I said.

Hell, even Téa while freshly married to David described his relationship with Gillian as sibling like and like a married couple. What does that even mean?

People who talk about “Téa had to force David to invite Gillian to his housewarming party.” Was that because he hated Gillian or because they used to fuck/were fucking. Inviting your former/current lover to your new home with your new wife. A bit awkward and disrespectful, wouldn’t you say?

Keep in mind, months before (or a year before), he was her date to the Emmys, as a friend, to support her because her divorce was being announced that day. How do you go from that to hating each other and not wanting this person to come to your housewarming party?

What was the catalyst?

Why did the fall out?

Didn’t their tension start around the time he married Téa? 🌚

I don’t know if it’s in the same year or within the same 12 months of his marriage, but she’s mad at David at one award show and kissing him on the cheek at another. Dark ages, right?

Remember when Gillian gave a spot on, unfavorable assessment of David and he responded to it all hurt and moody? 😂

And, how could I forget, let’s think of the other suspect behaviors.

1. David: we only email like five times a year.

Gillian: that’s what you like to tell people.

2. Gillian’s gum falls out of her mouth, David puts it in his mouth.

3. Gillian spitting food in his hand and David not being grossed out by it.

3. David pulling on the hem of Gillian’s shirt to pull her closer so he can sign it. Neither thinks twice about it, despite the level of intimacy being unusual.

4. David biting on her shirt.

5. David going quiet and making shit awkward after joking about her saying she kept saying she’d point at random men and say, “I’m going to marry that man.” Same occasion two minutes before, Gillian asking how David knew who mitch’s wife was (it was her stunt double). It felt accusatory.

6. The chili’s story where she has to explain she means Mulder and Scully had sex at Chili’s and not them.

7. Then holding hands under the table at comic con in 2013.

And there’s a lot of stories either I forgot or don’t know, I’m still finding out new things.

I know this theory destroys their perspective of DDGA and it ruins them for some fans, but it’s just a theory. Like I said, I’m not saying it’s the truth. I’m saying it would explain a shit ton about the ebbs and flows of their relationship and why they’re so inconsistent and reactive to being asked about each other for just about three decades. Why aren’t they bored of the question by now and answer it without this big to do?

I don’t know if David stans believe he is/was a cheater, but Gillian stans swear he is until you mention he could’ve cheated with Gillian. All of the sudden, he’s faithful and committed. 😒

I can admit that I might be wrong because I don’t know them. Only they know what goes on in their relationship. But if you had friends acting like they do, you’d think they were fucking or wanted to even when they insist otherwise.

To tour last question: OF COURSE David is captivated by Gillian. Gillian is attractive, funny, and flirty. They seem to have similar senses of humors at times as well. She’s silly too. I can totally see David being taken in by her because we see that now.

He’s more of the straight man to her zaniness, but he finds her zaniness endearing.

EDIT: please feel free to add any normal colleague behavior between David and Gillian over the years. 👀

#anon mail #evergreen gillovny #prepares for hate anon #how many will I get #it’s fitting it should be on the one week anniversary of THE PICTURE #Just sub ‘they were having an affair’ at certain difficult points into their relationship and it all makes sense #😂

21 notes · View notes

bluescluelessly · 4 years

Text

Tossing the Script out the Airlock (and Good Riddance to it)

[Rating: Teen] || hurt/comfort, suspected infidelity, polyamorous relationships, made up Stewjoni biology because George Lucas didn’t say Obi-Wan wasn’t a little weird and if he’s gonna give his birth planet a stupid name then I’m gonna give him stupid biology tweaks, and use of Dai Bendu, the language of the Jedi (translations at the bottom of the post)

tw: mentions of grooming (because Palpatine)

Ships: Bail Organa/Obi-Wan, Bail/Breya, Anakin/Padmé

Palpatine tries to convince Anakin that Padmé is cheating on him with Obi-Wan. Anakin confronts his friend about it, finds out a bit more than he bargained for, and not at all what he was expecting to.

°|●.*•

From the Revenge of the Sith Novelization:

“That’s why I put you on the Council. If the rumors are true, you may be democracy's last hope.”

Anakin let his chin sink once more to his chest and his eyelids scraped shut. It seemed like he was always somebody’s last hope.

Why did everyone always have to make their problems into his problems? Why can’t people just let him be?

How is he supposed to deal with all this one Padmé could die?

He said slowly, eyes still closed, “you still haven’t told me what this has to do with Obi-Wan.”

“Ah, that – well, that is the difficult part. The disturbing part. It seems that Master Kenobi has been in contact with a certain Senator who is known to be among the leaders of this cabal. Apparently, very close contact. The rumor is that he was seen leaving the Senator’s residence this very morning, at an… unseemly hour.”

“Who?” Anakin opened his eyes and sat forward. “Who is this Senator? Let’s go question him.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin. But the Senator in question is, in fact, a *her*. A woman you know quite well, in fact.”

“You–” He wasn’t hearing this. He couldn’t be. “You mean–”

Anakin choked on her name.

Palpatine gave him a look of melancholy sympathy. “I’m afraid so.”

Anakin coughed his voice back to life. “That’s *impossible!* I would *know*– she doesn’t… she couldn’t–”

“Sometimes the closest,” Palpatine said sadly, “are those who cannot see.”

Revenge of the Sith, Matthew Stover, p. 250

°|●.*•

This is it. Anakin is going to just… ask him. He’s not sure what he’ll do if he finds out Obi-Wan has been sleeping with his wife, but…

Well, he’ll figure that out if it’s true.

He went to Padmé’s apartment, felt for himself the evidence that Obi-Wan had been there.

Now, he needs the truth. He needs to be wrong.

“So… I heard you spent a late night with a senator,” he asks, trying not to sound overly accusing. Obi-Wan always gives him the benefit of the doubt.

Several emotions flicker across Obi-Wan’s face then. He eventually fixes his gaze on Anakin, a modicum of panic in his eyes. Anakin’s heart sinks.

The next words out of his old Master’s mouth, however, catch him by surprise.

“You… know about Bail?”

Anakin’s eyes go wide. No, he didn’t–

– but he can’t help thinking he knew it, it was a male senator –

– “Bail?” He blurts out, confusion showing. “No, Palpatine said–”

“– Palpatine saw me with Bail?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice rising an octave.

“No–” Anakin insists, hands going up in a placating gesture. “Not– I didn’t know about Bail. I uh. Palpatine told me he heard you were seen leaving Padmé Amidala’s Apartment.” He explains, and some of the worry drains from Obi-Wan.

“Oh,” he says, sounding infinitely relieved. “No, I, er. Well, I definitely haven’t been making ‘late visits’ to Senator Amidala.” He gives Anakin a curious sort of look. “I hear she’s spoken for, not that I would pursue her, in any case. It would be… awkward.”

“Awkward?” Anakin asks, feeling as if he’s missing something.

Obi-Wan gives a tired sort of smile. “Besides the fact that my preference is not for the fairer sex; she once made an advance, and I turned her down.” Seeing Anakin’s flaring temper, he is quick to clarify, “long before your knighting, Anakin. But, as I said, awkward.”

Anakin nods, appeased. Then, he remembers there’s a more important topic to focus on here. “So… Bail?”

The reaction is immediate; Obi-Wan’s face blushing a dark red as he looks away. “Yes, I– if you could keep that to yourself, I’d appreciate it.”

To hell with it, Anakin thinks. “Sure Master, I’ll keep your senator a secret if you keep mine.”

“The fact that you think your relationship with Senator Amidala is a secret is adorable,” Obi-Wan responds, a glint of amusement in his eye. “Half the council is still asking me why they weren’t invited to the wedding; I can’t give them an answer, as I wasn’t invited either.”

Anakin looks shocked by that information, which is truly endearing. “Wait, they aren’t mad?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “You proved to me that you could put responsibility over your wife on Geonosis. Relationships aren’t forbidden so long as there’s not an unhealthy attachment involved. Anyways, we’ve always bent the rules a bit for you.”

Anakin feels as if a weight has been removed from his shoulders. A weight that Palpatine put there, he thinks.

The old man has been wrong about the Jedi on two accounts now… why does Anakin hold what he says about the Jedi in such regard?

Perhaps he should fact-check more of the Chancellor’s absurd claims.

“Ah.” Anakin responds intelligently. “… so why does your, um, thing with Bail need to stay a secret?”

Obi-Wan’s red cheeks return once more. “Well. A… few reasons. Not that I think I’d be in trouble for it, but… I’d like to respect Bail’s privacy. He is, after all, Married.”

“Does Breha not know?”

“She knows,” Obi-Wan assures his former Padawan. “I wouldn’t agree otherwise. But that doesn’t mean they want the whole senate knowing about their … arrangement with me; or others.”

Again, Anakin nods to show his understanding. “The less people who know, the better. Right…”

“Exactly.”

“Still,” Anakin starts, bemused, “I didn’t take you for the 'mistress’ type.”

A complicated flurry of emotions cross his friend’s face. “… neither do I,” he responds, a little clipped. “I think of myself more as Bail’s type.”

Anakin realizes how insensitive that came off a bit too late. “I’m sorry–”

Obi-Wan waves him off. “It’s difficult to understand when I haven’t explained. Bail is Bi; he generally prefers men, but his heart belongs fully to Breha. I prefer men as well, and I have… a condition… so we came to a mutually beneficial arrangement, in which Bail and I enjoy one another while on Coruscant, as he and Breha cannot be together as often as they’d like to be.”

Anakin gets all that, he does. But one thing sticks out to him that he feels needs to be clarified. “You have a condition?” Is Obi-Wan sick?

If its possible, Obi-Wan grows more embarrassed. “Well, I’m from Stewjon.”

That clears nothing up.

At Anakin’s clueless expression, Obi-Wan sighs and explains. “Right, quick biology lesson. Somewhere down the evolutionary line, it was decided that Stewjonians need more incentive to reproduce. So, while it isn’t necessary in order to live out a full, average life span, our bodies naturally produce more beneficial hormones during sexual intercouse. This means, the more I…” he pauses, looking displeased by the verbal corner he’s painted himself into. “… get laid, the slower I age, the faster I heal, and the less sleep I need. All beneficial to fighting a war, yes?”

That’s all news to Anakin. Fascinating. “So do you have… other arrangements too?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “As of now, just Bail. I could, of course, visit the lower levels to the same effect, but I find it safer and more preferable to have intercourse with someone I like and trust.” Less likely to catch something that way, too.

Anakin nods, strange mixtures of relief and utter confusion swirling in his mind. At least he knows Obi-Wan has no interest in Padmé… but that doesn’t explain the way he felt his presence in the force, in her apartment.

“Okay. Uh.” He hesitates, knowing there’s no real, good way to word this. “Just… to be 100% clear, you’re not having secret meetings with Padmé in an attempt to overthrow Palpatine and the Senate?”

The look Obi-Wan gives Anakin would make someone think he had just grown a second head.

“… no, wherever did you hear such nonsense?”

Anakin rubs the back of his neck, feeling the last bit of worry ebb away. “Just rumors.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Truly, the Senate gossip gets wildly out of hand. I’ll admit, I do on occasion have tea with Padmé, but there’s nothing treasonous about friends visiting one another and trading stories and doing each other’s makeup from time to time.” He pauses. “And while neither of us have very high opinions on Chancellor Palpatine’s term, there’s no plot against him, as far as I am aware. We are both just eager for this war to end, and for him to release his emergency powers so the Republic can return to democracy.”

“You think his rule is undemocratic?” Anakin asks, looking appalled by the idea.

“He’s been in power long past his elected term,” Obi-Wan points out. “A new Chancellor should have been elected already. Over this time, he has used the war to gain far more emergency powers than any one person should hold.”

Sensing Anakin’s impending argument, he continues. “… Of course, this makes it far simpler to fight a war; I simply worry that when the war has ended… he won’t give up his power so easily. He has resisted peace talks, and every other attempt to bring this war to an end sooner. So I… have concerns.” He gives Anakin a tired sort of smile. “But last I checked, he hasn’t yet made it treasonous for Padmé and I to exercise our right to free speech.”

“Of course not,” Anakin responds, sounding distracted. He’s always thought having one person to make decisions was a good thing… or, does he just think that because Palpatine has told him it’s a better idea so many times?

He has many things to question. But, more importantly right now, Obi-Wan mentioned make-up?

Anakin shakes himself from his thoughts, giving his friend a curious look. “Uh. Rewind a second. Did you say Padmé did your make-up?”

“And I did hers,” Obi-Wan answers easily. “We both had dates.”

That would explain why they were, in some cases, sitting closer than friends would; as far as he could tell in the force.

“Bail takes you on dates?” Anakin asks, curious but trying his best not to be pushy about it. This is something new, which he never anticipated learning about his Master… he wants to know more, but as a Jedi with his own secret significant Senator, he understands the secrecy.

“Not all of them are Bail,” Obi-Wan answers after a moment, as if weighing how much he should admit to. “But yes, he does. He’s quite a gentleman really; I do look for other potential partners, but I fear he’s spoiled me for most.”

Anakin can imagine; having a Senator as a partner is pretty nice. “The tea is that good?”

“And the company,” Obi-Wan agree, a crinkle at the corner of his eyes. “I’ll admit… I’m glad you know now. I don’t like keeping secrets from you.”

That warms Anakin’s heart, so much that he doesn’t quite know how to express it, so he deflects. “If you have pictures of yourself in that makeup, you better not keep them secret anymore,” he teases with a grin.

the teasing pulls a laugh from Obi-Wan, who shakes his head. “I don’t; but I’m certain Padmé has plenty. I think she even took a few of us the one time Bail stopped by her apartment to pick me up.”

Oh, he is definitely getting those from his wife later. “So Padmé knows about you two?”

“She introduced us,” Obi-Wan admits fondly. “I don’t share details with her, but she’s a smart woman.”

That she is. “Why am I the last to find out?” He protests, trying his best not to let it come out sounding whiny.

“Because, my dear padawan,” Obi-Wan starts, gently ribbing him. “You are a dear friend, and an unparalleled partner in combat, but you can’t keep a secret to save your life.”

“I can keep a secret!” he argues! “I swear, Master, no one else will ever know. I only talk to you and Padmé, anyways.” He pauses, “Well, and Palpatine.”

“And he mustn’t know,” Obi-Wan insists, more serious now. “Bail is one of the leading senators advocating for clone rights and peace talks, Anakin. He is a good man. And, he disagrees with Palpatine quite often. I shudder to think what the Chancellor would do with this information, should he find out. I wouldn’t put it past him to use it in an attempt to not only discredit Bail, but to berate the Jedi as well.”

“But neither of you are doing anything wrong,” Anakin states, frowning.

Obi-Wan’s eyes close for a moment. “And it’s not wrong for a system to want to remain neutral and out of the war, yes? And yet, Palpatine did everything in his power to try to strongarm Republic forces onto Mandalore, even rushing a vote 3 days ahead of time, without Satine present, based on a doctored holorecording.”

Anakin doesn’t look at it that way… but he’s not going to argue with Obi-Wan where Satine is involved. Though he now questions how romantic their relationship really was, he knows they were, at the very least, close.

“Just please, don’t tell him, Anakin.” Obi-Wan persists, looking up at his friend beseechingly. “If for no other reason than Bail values his privacy.”

“Of course,” Anakin agrees easily. “Like I said, I won’t tell anyone. I just… nobody really talks to me about Palpatine like you are now. I guess most people know he’s my friend and are too afraid to say anything less than flattering… You’re giving me things to think about.”

“I try to be honest with you whenever I can,” Obi-Wan responds cautiously. “You aren’t a child anymore, and though old habits are hard to break, I don’t want to keep sheltering you as if you aren’t a capable adult.”

“I sense you have more to say,” Anakin prompts when Obi-Wan doesn’t immediately continue.

His friend nods, looking troubled. “I know he is a close friend of yours, Anakin, and one of the few people you knew and liked here, after leaving your home. Which is why I–mistakenly, I think–didn’t object to his interest in you. Initially, I had hoped another friend would make your transition from Tatooine to Coruscant easier… but… well. I find the way he treats you… inappropriate. In some cases, predatory.”

And with those words, Anakin suddenly feels on the defensive. No, Palpatine is his friend, like a grandfather to him. He isn’t… predatory, or–

Obi-Wan’s hands are up even before Anakin can think of a rebuttal. “I don’t claim to know all the details… but the fact that when you were younger, you didn’t feel comfortable telling me anything of your activities on your outings with him says quite a lot, Anakin. And more than that, when I started to suspect something was amiss, and attempted to join you on visits with him, or simply ensure you weren’t left alone with him, he used his position as the Chancellor to strongarm me into backing down. It was… is, concerning.”

And, that’s news to Anakin. He understands why Obi-Wan hadn’t told him sooner, too. He was a headstrong kid; any attempt to protect him, especially from someone he saw as a friend, Anakin would have just taken as Obi-Wan ‘controlling’ him. He knows better now; after years of being Obi-Wan’s equal. But then, it may have just pushed him away, and further from where Obi-Wan could attempt to protect him.

Still, he feels the need to explain himself. “It’s not– He didn’t do anything… like that…” He starts, floundering a little. “It’s just, I didn’t want to tell you, because he took me places I shouldn’t really be going, and I had fun, so…” might as well come clean now, it’s not like he can get in trouble for it anymore. “He used to take me on trips to the lower levels, like, clubs. And he taught me how to make a chance cube land on the side I wanted, so we would find corrupt senators, and cheat them out of their credits. And, Palpatine said he gave the money to charities, so we were doing good things, you know?”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, and Anakin is reminded of when he tested his patience early on as a padawan, and his Master would silently count to keep himself calm.

He hasn’t needed to in a long time, not since well before Anakin was knighted.

And despite what the action reminds him of, Anakin knows his Master’s temper isn’t directed at him.

“… Anakin,” he starts, tone gentle but tight. “Please, just. For a moment, put Ahsoka in your place. If she was telling you what you are telling me now… what would you think?”

And Anakin’s gut does a flip, because deep down, he already knows.

He… he knows that Palpatine uses him, says one thing and does another, feeds him constant doubt about his friends, about the Jedi…

He knows this, and yet, no one before has had the nerve to say anything even slightly negative about Palpatine to his face. No one has ever dared do anything but say how great his close friend, the Chancellor, is.

Because like Anakin, people are afraid of him.

He feels a tremble start in his fingers, finally faced to acknowledge how afraid he is. How much it terrifies him to know that Palpatine holds all his secrets, that should Anakin ever be less than his enthusiastic friend, he could be ruined.

He, the hero with no fear… is afraid; a frightened boy in the face of a decrepit old man.

And only now can he show it, in the presence of the only person he’s ever known to have the courage to speak up about someone so untouchable.

As if sensing Anakin’s oncoming panic, Obi-Wan interrupts his thoughts, voice kind and sad. “Anakin, dear one, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He moves closer, and any restraint Anakin had breaks.

He feels 9 years old again, lost and seeking comfort in Obi-Wan’s arms. “I can’t say no,” he whispers brokenly. “Master– Jaieh, I’m terrified of him.”

Hearing Anakin call him Jaieh, like he hasn’t since he was young, since it was too hard for him to call anyone ‘Master’ without dredging up bad memories, Obi-Wan accepts Anakin into his arms, no hesitation or holding back.

Anakin needs support right now, needs to know that he isn’t alone in this, that if he asks, Obi-Wan would walk right into Hell with him. “Enoah foh bika, Anakin.” he promises him, reassures him. “Enoah foh mikeelal.”

“Paienoah kodaih bika,” Anakin says, but it comes out unsure, like he’s asking. Like he doesn’t know if he’s accepted, if he’s really not alone in this.

Obi-Wan’s heart aches, and he holds Anakin closer, pressing a reassuring kiss to his temple. “Haj Dai, Anakin. Paienoah kodaih bika.”

Anakin shatters then– or it feels like he does. So many doubts, so many fears, and Obi-Wan bats them all aside with a few words. Words said so easily, words Anakin feared shouldn’t apply to him.

He cries, his earlier suspicions and anger forgotten, absolved now, as he is faced with the truth that Obi-Wan cares for him; that his best friend is his truest ally, that Obi-Wan accepts him and will always accept him.

As he allows himself to acknowledge that Palpatine is a liar and a manipulator, and he is (and always has been) coming up with vile falsities in his attempts to drive a wedge between Anakin and Obi-Wan; the one person he can rely on absolutely.

And through it all, through his tears and his shattered sense of self, Obi-Wan holds onto him; not judgement or disgust, nothing but kindness and acceptance as he carefully picks up the pieces and helps Anakin piece himself back together.

How he could ever doubt Obi-Wan’s character… he would say he doesn’t know, but he remembers. He knows all the little things Palpatine said, all the betrayals he implied, the way he twisted Anakin’s thoughts to see himself pitted against Obi-Wan instead of regarded with him, as he should. They are a team, The Team.

He should have recognized long ago that their accomplishments aren’t a competition, they are an accumulation of the good they can both do, together and apart.

Anakin may be late, but late is better than never, and he recognizes it now, at his lowest and most vulnerable moment. A competitor wouldn’t hold him and build him back up, stronger than before. A friend does that, a friend and mentor and good person.

When he can speak, albeit in a watery way, Anakin wipes his eyes, face still hidden in his Master’s shoulder. “What am I going to do?”

The answer doesn’t come immediately, and that in itself is a reassurance. Anakin doesn’t want unthought-out platitudes, he wants honesty, and preferably, a plan.

“I don’t know what we can do right this moment, Anakin.” Obi-Wan admits. “He is still the Chancellor… and that won’t change until we end this war. But I can promise you this, my dear padawan, you will never have to go see him alone. You need only ask, and I will be by your side. And as soon as circumstances change, I will do all there is in my power to make sure he never comes near you again, Anakin.”

He sniffles, more reassured by the realistic response than he could ever be by promises that can’t be fulfilled.

“Then we’ll just have to try harder to end this war, huh?” Anakin goes for an optimistic tone, hugging Obi-Wan more snugly.

Another comforting kiss goes to his temple. Obi-Wan is frugal with his shows of affection, so it means all the more now that he is giving them so openly. “We will, Anakin.” He promises, and his voice is so steady, so sure, the rock that Anakin can always lean against. “Together, I doubt there’s anything you and I can’t do.”

“Together,” Anakin agrees, a knot in his very soul coming loose.

Obi-Wan is right. They are The Team, and that isn’t just a title. Together, they can do anything they set their minds to.

They can defeat Sith Lords, they can end a war, and maybe, just maybe, they can even save Anakin Skywalker’s soul from the Devil.

°|●.*•

Dai Bendu Translations

“Jaieh” || ● Simplified Meaning: Master

Literal Meaning

roots: ‘je’- mystic, ‘ai’- mastery, non ownership. so ‘one who is a Master in the ways of the Force’, implying more like a teacher than an owner.

“Enoah foh bika, Anakin. Enoah foh mikeelal” || ● Simplified Meaning: I am here, Anakin. I am with you.

Literal Meaning

Enoah fo - I am (in a permanent state, not transitive)

bika- here

[Anakin]

Enoah foh- I am (in a permanent state)

mikeelal - comitative ‘you’/with you.

“Paienoah kodaih bika.” || ● Simplified Meaning: We are here together, now and forever.

Literal Meaning

Paienoah - We are (in a permanent state, and this has implications for the future)

kodaih - Exclusionary ‘We’ - all of us jedi (exclusionary, implying the inclusion of Anakin in the Jedi and alluding to the exclusion of Palpatine as not a Jedi)

bika - here.

so essentially, “We are jedi, and we are together, and Palpatine is not, and this matters for the future.”

“Haj Dai, Anakin. Paienoah kodaih bika.” || ● Simplified Meaning: Yes, Anakin. We are here together, now and forever.

Literal Meaning

Haj Dai - literally ‘Force Wills’, a reassuring ‘yes’.

[Anakin]

Paienoah - We are (in a permanent state, and this has implications for the future) [italics stress is on ‘are’]

kodaih - Exclusionary ‘We’ - all of us jedi (exclusionary, implying the inclusion of Anakin in the Jedi and alluding to the exclusion of Palpatine as not a Jedi)

bika - here.

so essentially, “Of course, Anakin. We are jedi, and we are together, and Palpatine is not, and this matters for the future.”

Thanks to @jasontoddiefor @ghostwriterofthemachine for the translations to Dai Bendu, their fancrafted Jedi Language!

124 notes · View notes