#The Plaza Hotel wedding

[weddingcentralpark]

Emma and Paul's Wedding on Chambers Boat Landing

Emma and Paul eloped from their home in Northern Ireland to get married in Central Park in October.  Paul was forty and Emma thirty when they got married.  Emma told me that marriage had been something they had talked about before but there just came a time when it felt like the next logical step for them – the right time.  They are ready to start their family and they want everyone to have the…

[greatevent89]

Drury Plaza Hotel Santa Fe

Located in the heart of Santa Fe, New Mexico, the Drury Plaza Hotel in Santa Fe offers a unique blend of comfort and luxury. As a LEED® Certified establishment, we are committed to energy-efficiency and sustainability.

Our hotel is within walking distance of the Plaza in Downtown Santa Fe and the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum. Whether you're here for business or leisure, our hotel offers top-notch amenities to make your stay memorable.

[makeyoumine69]

Love ur writing it always makes me so happy when you post

For the celebration can you do breeding, belly bulge, and loss of innocence/virginity please 🥵🥵

Obsession

◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: When your father told you that you were going to marry the son of his biggest business partner, named Patrick Bateman, you didn't believe him at first, but eventually you had to face reality and accept your destiny.

◥ WARNINGS: Smut, hurt /comfort, forced marriage, forced pregnancy (kinda), loss of virginity, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, nipple play/tit sucking, teasing, vaginal sex, creampie, belly bulge, Breeding kink, Praise kink, Innocent kink, Size kink, sweet dirty talk, multiple orgasms, humiliation, manipulation, pet names, horny hubby!Patrick Bateman himself.

◥ WORDCOUNT: 4.1k

◥ SONG REC: Mariah Carey - Obsessed🖤

◥ A/N: Finally, I managed to finish this prompt. I really enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for this request, I hope you like it!

◥ LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [BWC MASTERLIST].

You were so scared and lost that you couldn't really believe it was happening - you wished that marrying Patrick Bateman was just a dream... but it wasn't. It all felt so real when after the super luxurious wedding, you rode in his limo to the Plaza Hotel for your first night together. Because the whole situation between the two of you was so rushed, you didn't even have time to get to know each other better, your father was too impatient and he wanted this marriage to happen as soon as possible. However, you remembered Patrick since you were children and all the girls around were always so charmed by him, even when he was just a little cheeky boy.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Patrick suddenly asked, placing his large palm on your knee. 

With a sharp gasp, you shrugged from his unexpected touch and turned to face him, holding for a moment to admire his beautiful, brown eyes. 

“Nothing.” You replied, breaking eye contact with him once you noticed you were staring at him for too long. 

You heard him letting out a tired sigh, and then Bateman tried to cuddle with you a bit, wrapping his arm around your slightly shaking shoulders. “I know that everything seems to be a bit messy but…”

"It doesn't seem like it, but it really is," you looked at him again, his face so close to yours that you had to hold your breath. "Literally…everything."

"Baby, please. Don't interrupt me, okay?" Patrick tried his best to be patient and polite, but you could feel his hand tightening on your back with each passing moment. "Things are really messed up, but I want to assure you – if you can be a good wife, I'll be a great husband to you. That sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?"

Shivering from being so close to him, you almost writhed in your seat when you felt his searing lips brushing behind your ear as he murmured something soft, something soothing, but you couldn't concentrate as the meaning of his words slipped away from you like a leaf in the wind.

“Pat-Patrick, actually … there’s one thing I didn’t tell you yet,” you mused nearly audible. “You know, I’ve never been close with anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, the limo stopped and you both looked into the window to see the beautiful illumination of the Plaza. 

“Oh thank God, we’re finally here … I really hate NY in this time of the day, because of these fucking traffic jams.” 

Bateman’s rants still resound behind your back even when you got outside. Gently, he held your waist for support as you moved to the entrance to the grand hotel, your hand kept fixing the hem of your massive dress. 

It was not surprising that Patrick chose a luxury presidential suite for you, with large rooms and high ceiling above. You couldn't hide your fascination and that made him smirk loftily whilst he was helping you to remove your half-coat. Little by little, you moved to what was supposed to be a living room and took a seat on the huge black leather couch, suppressing growing anxiety inside your chest. 

“Do you like this place?” Patrick looked at you before letting out a short whistle, removing his jacket. 

“Yes, it’s really nice.” Smiling timidly, you clutched at the skirt of your dress once you saw him coming closer. 

“Uh, you always loved fancy things, darling,” he sat next to you, throwing his leg over another and placing his hand on the back of the couch, almost touching your shaky shoulders. “Well, nothing's too good for my wifey.”

His kiss on your lips was so sudden that it sent a million chills down your spine, causing your lungs to cramp from the lack of oxygen. At first, you clawed frantically at his solid biceps as you felt his hot tongue slide against your mouth in a demanding manner. You jolted once you gave him what he wanted, because this kiss was nothing compared to the one you shared at the wedding - it was much more passionate, but still you couldn't relax.

“Pat-Patrick, please … wait,” you whispered as your voice shook, searching for his brown eyes which now were dark as a midnight sky. “You must know one very important thing.”

“What is it, my dear?” 

"I'm..." you stuttered from the way he was staring at you, his hungry gaze literally eating you alive. "I'm a virgin, Patrick."

He frowned for a moment, then laughed uproariously before pulling up the hem of your dress, messing with its countless layers. "You can't be serious."

His reaction really embarrassed you, so you just pushed his big palm away and got up, leaving him on the couch with a disappointed grimace on his face.

"Hey! Where are you going?" He asked annoyingly, his golden Rolex wiggling on his wrist as he raised his hands in confusion.

"I want to get off this dress and change into something else," you complained, trying to reach the ties at the back of your dress to undo them. "I hate it!"

It was as if he hadn't even noticed your ranting when he rejoined you: "And what about that guy from college who was hovering around you like a fucking shark? Poor guy missed his chance to get a bite of a delicious pie like you?"

Gritting your teeth, you shrugged at the unpleasant sensation and shouted: "Don't you dare talk about him like that!"

He chuckled again, in his natural haughty way. "He was always a loser, and I always knew you would be mine."

You were almost done with the ties, but as soon as you heard his last words, you froze, feeling something snap in your mind. "What did you just say?"

Bateman's grin grew even wider as you turned to face him, with an unhidden dread in your eyes. "I said I always get what I want..." He stood up and walked over to the large coffee table near the couch, taking a glass and pouring some red liquid into it. "Wine?"

When you didn't answer, he took a sip of alcohol before continuing his malicious confession: "As you probably remember, my dear (Y/N), my father wanted me to marry," with every word he said, Patrick was slowly closing the distance between the two of you. "And he also wanted me to have an heir. The American dream family, that really works best for a good social reputation".

He paused, standing almost face to face with you, you could feel his expensive perfume enveloping you like a mist. “And?” 

Your curiosity made him sneer with delight, so he cupped your cheek and looked down at you, murmuring softly as if trying to lull you into a fake sense of comfort. "And then there was a business meeting with your father where I remembered you as the ideal candidate to be my wife," he smiled almost lovingly, stroking your cheekbone and placing a tender kiss on your temple. "Too bad you couldn't see the look on your father's face when we talked about it, he was as happy as if he'd won a fucking billion dollars."

Stifling the immense pain in your heart, you closed your eyes and almost fell into his embrace from the feeling of being so miserable in this selfish world. His words only proved your thoughts about being just a figure in another chase game of your dad, and according to what Bateman just told you - your father won a jackpot by forcing you to marry the son of his biggest business partner.

“But to be fair, I didn’t expect to be that lucky …” he murmured before pulling you closer, his hands traveling around your lower back. “… to get such an innocent flower.”

When Patrick kissed you on lips again, you didn’t even struggle as the dark void inside your soul was consuming all of your thoughts and feelings, leaving you completely empty. With no rush, Bateman was undoing the rest of the ties on your dress as if he was unwrapping his most desirable gift. Your throat shivered in a choked gasp, as your body was traitorously responding to each touch he made, especially when his large palms ran across your boobs to give them a slight squash. 

"Baby, you don't have to be afraid of me." His suddenly charming voice sounded like honey, so sweet and stringy. 

"I'm not afraid," you stared up at him, catching his hands that were now caressing your thighs. "I'm so... so fucking disappointed."

"It's understandable."

"But not for you," you scowled a bit, biting your lip to keep the salty tears from welling up in your eyes. "I'm just a toy for you... just like for my beloved father."

Suddenly Patrick's eyebrows knitted, making him look a little frustrated. "No, you're not."

"Enough lies," you wanted to push him away, but he only held you tightly, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. "This is all so fake!"

"Maybe everything around us is fake, but we are not..." he gently traced a finger along your cheek, moving down to outline your trembling lips. "We're real, and when I said I'd take care of you, it wasn't a lie."

The way he looked at you was literally captivating, it caught you off guard and you couldn't help but breathe out sharply as his plump lips nestled against the sensitive spot on your neck. 

"Pat... Patrick," your hands clung to his shoulders as you desperately searched for protection, and your inner nature told you that he could do it - his strong arms were like a shield between you and the whole world. "I really want to make it work, but..."

Bateman didn't allow you to finish, pressing his thumb against your mouth and then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing as he walked into the big, fashionable bedroom. Shaking slightly, you closed your eyes from the sense of unreality that clouded your mind like the strongest alcohol.

Did he just say he was going to take care of you? 

The man you had always known as a total egoist, who loved no one but himself, now covered your small frame from above as he laid you on the king-size bed, planting little kisses on your cheek before settling on his knees, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his white shirt.

"You look gorgeous, (Y/N)," he mused, taking your leg to peck at your ankle, causing your back to arch at his unexpected tenderness. "As you always do."

Cautiously, Patrick slid down your luxury wedding dress, exposing your bare skin that was not hidden under your beautiful white lingerie - just a glimpse of it made him swallow hard, and when you gave him your most innocent look, he licked his lips briefly as his nostrils began to turn red.

Panting barely audibly, Bateman stood on the floor to remove his clothes, not wasting a moment to admire your embarrassed face, the more naked he became, the more noticeably you began to fidget.

"Come here, darling." He purred like a cat and beckoned you over to sit on the edge of the bed.

There was something sweet about him, as all the girls always said when they saw him, which was probably the reason why you couldn't resist him as you obeyed and knelt beside him, waiting for his next move.

“Babydoll,” he stroked your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes again from the blissful sensation of his warm palm. “Tonight, I’m gonna guide you into the world of pure pleasure … ”

You shuddered at his promise as your insides tightened like a spring - that strange sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You'll never be the same after this, sweetheart." Bateman crooned, wrapping his hand around your neck, not to hurt you, but to make you feel his unspoken dominance.

“A-ahh,” your low moan caressed his ears and that was one of the most delighted things he ever heard. “What do you want me to do?”

Your hasty question impelled him to humm in absolute adoration, as Patrick drew near your mouth to kiss you hungirly, never in your life someone was kissing you like that, sucking on your lips one by one and biting them a bit, making you literally melt in his strong arms.

"Be yourself, (Y/N)," he whispered into your ear, hugging your shoulders before pushing on them determinedly, and now you were sprawled on the bed beneath him. "You're incredible just the way you are."

Trembling, you wanted to scream as his words worshiped your broken soul, even if he was only doing it to befuddle you and get what he wanted - in that moment, you didn't care as the strange, burning desire grew from the inside, corrupting your innocent mind by the second.

Delicately, Bateman darted his soft fingers against your belly, sliding them up to your heavy breasts, teasing your nipples with light strokes, you gasped from that contact, creasing the blanket and spreading your legs that allowed him to rest himself more comfortably. 

“Good girl,” he praised you and pulled down the straps of your lingerie to expose your extremely hard peaks. “Mmm … my sweet, little girl.” He gave one of them a few licks, before he took it into his hot mouth, sucking it with pure delight. 

“A-aww, Gosh … ” You wailed and enfolded your arms around his head, not even realizing you were pressing him closer. 

Patrick exhaled a muffled groan and switched to your other nipple, swirling his wet tongue around it so deliciously that the tight knot in your lower abdomen was begging to be released.

“Patrick! P-Patrick please!”

“Mmm, honey, you have amazing tits,” he huffed and trapped your swollen tip between his sharp, white teeth, forcing you to freeze in silent moan of pleasure. Seizing the moment, he sneaked his long fingers between your legs to grope your taut lower lips. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet and we have only just started.”

Breathing heavily, you look up at him from under your lashes with your dazed eyes, feeling his soft finger pads slide up and down your feverish pussy. Bateman stared back at you, smirking in his arrogant way, especially when you jerked beneath him as he slipped a thumb inside your panties and pressed it against your sensitive nub.

"No one's ever touched you like this before?" Patrick asked, rubbing your clit steadily, forcing you to bend your legs into knees to give him more space to play with. 

You tossed the pillows around to cover your face and just nodded, feeling his ministrations becoming more and more insistent, you didn't know how long you could stand it. 

"Mmm, does that feel good, baby?" He watched you from above, admiring the view of your trembling body as his fingers slid over your cunt like clockwork, making obscene, sleek noises.

"A-arrh, yes ... mmm ... so good."

To be fair, Bateaman knew what you were going to say before you answered, because he was absolutely confident in his sex skills, and you would remember this night for a long time.

First, he left a light kiss on your side, passing your rib bones as he descended to your mound, leaving a wet trail of hickeys. Fondly, Patrick opened your hips wide apart, and he had to hold them securely as he pushed your underwear aside. You winced because you knew what he was going to do, and when he finally latched his plump lips against your blushing clit, you didn't know whether to stop him or explode right here - his skilled tongue left you with no choice. 

"Mm-mmhm, ohhh God, I can't... I can't, Patrick! It's too much," you writhed on the bed, the tension in your womb too intense for you to bear. "P-Please ... ah, please ..."

Uncertain of what you were pleading for, you let him strap your legs over his broad shoulders as he lapped at your cunt without stopping, sucking your burning flesh and consuming your sweet juices like his favourite dessert. You were so fucking close to combustion when a sudden sharp pain ripped through your body, causing you to shriek in agony.

"Shh, it's all right ... I need to prep you, (Y/N)," he smooched the inside of your hip, slowly pushing his thin fingers into your spasming cleft. "Hang in there, baby. Will you do it for me?"

His voice was so soothing, so convincing. As you wiped away your tears, you saw him offer you a hand and you took it, letting your fingers intertwine. Patrick interpreted this gesture as a 'yes' and the next moment his lips found their way back to your clit, flicking it with his warm tongue and sparingly pumping your pussy with his expert fingers.

As much as he attempted to be gentle, it was still painful as he plunged deeper with each passing second.  "Mmm, I..." you stammered as you felt him add another finger. "I'm scared, Patrick."

"Don't be," Bateman mused after tugging on your little tip with a squelch, slowly twisting his digits and looking at you from between your legs. "As long as you're a good girl for me, you've got nothing to worry about."

Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes from the stinging sensation of your shimmering tears. You knew there was no going back, you belonged to this man now and he could do whatever he wanted with you. Still, you tried to believe him, it might be naive and stupid, but... you just couldn't deny your sympathy towards him, especially when he treated you so kindly and lovingly.

Maybe one day you would regret it, but for now all you could do was whimper loudly and writhe on the king-size bed in the most expensive suite at the Plaza Hotel as your lawful husband was about to make you his, now and forever.

After a while, your taut body couldn't take any more of the crazy mix of pain and ecstasy that was intoxicating your mind - you orgasmed so vividly that you were afraid you were going to pass out from the feeling of your inner walls pulsating again and again.

"Yes ... just like that, honey," Patrick murmured, his fingers still pounding into your spasming cunt, prolonging your climax and it seemed you were about to cum again. "Ahhh, baby, you make me so proud."

"Patrick..." your chest rose and fell so abruptly that your face burned from the heat, as if someone had poured hot tea on you. "Mmm..."

You only managed to squeak out as Bateman suddenly rolled you over, forcing you to stay on your knees as he sat behind you. Shit, he was so huge, you felt so tiny in his arms, especially when he wrapped them around you to plant a sloppy kiss on your neck, he could feel the artery beating so fast.

"You'll like it, believe me," he chuckled softly before pushing down on your back to bend you over. "It will hurt, I admit, but not for too long."

At the very last moment, a creeping fear took over your mind and even after several orgasms he had worked you up, you couldn't relax, knowing the pain to come. Nervously, you bent down to rest your head on your crossed elbows, his hot flesh poking at your tight little hole. God, he was so big... you knew it from the time you danced close together at your wedding, your inner channel clenching around nothing in anticipation of what would happen next.

"(Y/N)," he called your name longingly, stroking his full length as he spread your wetness around his engorged head. "I've never wanted someone as badly as I want you now."

Bateman lowered himself to lick your neck, and then you screamed loudly as he began to thrust into you, gripping your hips tightly as you instinctively tried to slip away. 

"Pat! Mmm, I'm so f-full, Goshhh," you tried your best to hold yourself back from crying, but the tearing sensation in your lower abdomen was too much to handle. "W-wait!"

"Almost there, darling," Patrick lied, as it was only the tip, but he didn't want to make the current situation any worse, so he decided to just keep going, ramming into you with more effort, grabbing you by the waist and almost digging his fingers into your delicate skin. "You're doing so well, mmmm ... F-fuck, you're so tight, baby."

Bateman really tried to control himself, but the way you embraced his thick cock was too blissful, it brought out his inner beast faster than he thought.

"Aaa-awww, so... so big, oh mmmm," your eyes rolled back in your head as he buried himself completely into your squeezed womb, your saliva dripping uncontrollably from your mouth. "Ah! It hurts..."

Without hesitation, Patrick leaned down to your neck and tongued your earlobe in order to soothe you a little, and when that didn't help, he cupped your face to bring you closer as his red-hot lips locked with yours. Passionately, he attacked your mouth, sucking and licking your tongue with a slurpy sound. 

"You will give me a child, sweetheart," Bateman muttered in a demanding tone before forcing you to sit on your knees and covering you from behind. "A beautiful son..." he thrust deeper, holding you by the neck. "...or a daughter...or both."

The sounds of flesh meeting flesh mixed with the squelching your pussy made each time his beefy shaft moved in and out of your inner channel, relentlessly hitting your cervix with its tip.

"Yes, P-Patrick ... I'll do anything you ... want ... aaaww!" Your ability to speak diminished each time he rocked into your body, pressing you closer to his solid muscles as he settled more comfortably on his knees beside you. 

"Of course, you will, baby girl."

Bateman was about to lose it at any moment from the way your tight hole was squeezing his dick, and your lascivious moans only encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster. 

"Do you feel that love?" Patrick put his hand on your belly, impaling you relentlessly on his thick cock. "Can you feel my dick hitting your belly? Arrgh-fuck, you're so delicate and fragile ... I'm even afraid of breaking you."

After his brief confession, Bateman took your palm and placed it on your tummy, so you could sense the outline of his huge dick sliding inside you, and that sensation literally made you choke on air. 

"I feel it ... Patrick, I f-feel it ... aaah," you threw your head back, resting it on his sturdy shoulder. "Patrick..."

You mumbled his name over and over as a saving mantra, your eyes now full of tears, and as if that was not enough, his hips began to slam into yours with increasing intensity. For a moment you found yourself fading away from the tremendous sensation of being so fucking full and abused that you couldn't even pronounce a world, only moaning wildly as you were fucking like animals, so ruthless and totally out of control.

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna make you pregnant again and again, mm-my dear wifey," he suddenly lowered his palm down your mound to rub your oversensitive bud, smearing your slick all around your pubic area and causing your legs to tremble frantically. "Shit," he felt you clenching around his dick as you climaxed so abruptly from his rubbing circular movements. He watched you quiver in his arms, your mouth paralysed in a silent cry as he kissed your temple and contemplated: "I wanna see your belly swell with my child ... I bet you'll look so beautiful, ahh-fuck."

Growling, Patrick closed his eyes from the surging ecstasy that soon consumed him, causing his whole body to cramp and his thrusts to become absolutely raw but ragged. As he pumped his fertile seed into your pussy, he didn't stop ramming into you, holding you tightly in his muscular arms until he was spent to the last drop. The feeling of warm cum filling you from the inside was so overwhelming that you didn't have time to be afraid, as if it was destined to happen before you could even think.

‘Just be a good wifey for him,' kept nagging at the back of your mind, your tears falling on your sweaty body as your eyes were wide open, staring at that one spot on the ceiling above with bitter sorrow in your chest.

From now on, you would never belong to yourself again. Not ever.

[hai7ani]

to win is to lose / rivals to lovers (who were already in love since the beginning)

thinking 'bout how attending an ex boyfriend's wedding while also having to endure the stares thrown your way from the guy you've been sworn enemies and rivals with for god knows how long halfway across the room must really suck. like, both sides really rubbing it in your face, you think 一 that you've lost this time. you're not as capable of love as you think you are, as you'd once boasted to that douchebag of a rival and how you'd thought your ex was the one for you.

except he isn't, and he isn't as well 一 the stares were just him making sure you weren't breaking down in the middle of a wedding and shutting off as you stand and watch with a semi-broken heart as your ex kisses his new bride at the altar, and a bouquet of flowers you've just caught earlier gripped tightly in your hands. a harsh slap to the face, this is.

so when he catches you at the hallway during the after party all alone, really at your most vulnerable as you quietly wipe away your tears with wobbly lips while making sure your makeup isn't ruined in the process, he waltzes over with his hands tucked into his pockets, stands in front of you a little too close for your usual liking, and you cry even harder. you don't have the energy to make another snarky remark to him 一 in fact, you haven't spoken a word to him since seeing him in his million dollar suit when he'd entered the venue without his rumoured plus one, no gifts for the newly-wed (a clear sign telling them to go to hell), and without his usual smug face too, for some reason.

when your tissue decides it isn't able to catch all your tears in time he then presses a hand to your nape forward. his touch is warm, so gentle, and your forehead rests on his right shoulder softly. you don't bother moving and he keeps you there like that, until your sobs have turned into sniffles and you've got an arm wrapped around his waist for some support.

it's when you wrap the other arm around him that he only speaks.

"i'll marry you."

you hear laughter echo in the quiet hallway as the other guests have the time of their lives in the room just behind the wall you're leaning against. is this a mockery? is he fucking mocking me? you've just about had it up to here with him. you want to scream at this man. you want to hit him. you want to punch him.

but your dress is tight so you hook an offensive thumb into the belt loop of his expensive dress pants instead, getting ready to threaten him, until he speaks again.

"so what they're doing this in the plaza hotel?" he scoffs, and your hold on his belt loop significantly loosens. his own around your nape, however, tightens and he presses your body anymore closer to him. you can feel his heartbeat pound in his chest, against your own, as he rambles on and on like the boastful boy you'd met in grade school despite being the ceo of a million dollar company.

"i'll marry you at the beach. new fucking york can kiss my ass, we're going to mykonos." you stifle a laugh at that. "he won't even be fucking invited because he's not ruining it for you, and he's gonna have to hear about our wedding from his mother-in-law."

you're full on giggling at him now as he continues to list out all the things he's gonna be making sure your ex pays for for the evil shit he'd pulled tonight.

"so? what do you say?"

he asks after a pause. when he tilts his head down to look at you he finds out you're already staring at him. wide, glossy eyes gazes into his own and he softens up when you hug him even tighter.

a hand brushes your hair out of the way. you close your eyes and smile. he swipes a thumb on the apple of your cheek.

"we can't lose to them now, can we?"

#gojo satoru he's so annoying, miya atsumu, haitani ran, haitani rindou, baji keisuke, kuroo tetsuro, hanma shuuji

it's 8am. haven't slept a wink. im so annoying

[theroyalsims]

BREAKING: ANYA, GUS STUN IN NEW PRE-WEDDING PHOTO; MORE ROYAL WEDDING DETAILS MADE PUBLIC

We're now only a week a way from the royal wedding, and it's official! Brindleton is abuzz with Royal Wedding Fever!

Today, the Palace surprised us with a brand new photo of the soon-to-be newlyweds and oh, boy! Do they look great together! Along with the new snap, more details of the royal wedding have been revealed.

The wedding will begin at exactly 10 o'clock in the morning. The Crown Princess will be accompanied by her parents, The Queen and Prince Jacques, aboard the Queen's exclusive state limousine as they head off from the Palace towards Brindleton Abbey. It has also been confirmed that Prince Jacques will be walking HRH down the aisle. The Queen will be escorted by her son, Prince Nicholas.

Gus, meanwhile, will travel to the Abbey from The Brindleton Plaza Royale Hotel. He will be riding in another state limousine, along with his mother.

After the ceremony, the procession will take place. The bride and groom will board a horse-drawn carriage - the same one used during The Queen and Prince Jacques' wedding - weather permitting.

Following the procession, the couple will grace the Palace balcony, and they are set to be joined by the members of the Royal Family and the groom's family.

In the evening, a private reception will be hosted by Her Majesty at the Palace.

The Palace also revealed that the wedding cake will be designed and made by world-renowned pastry chef, Flora Albadawi-Craneholm.

As for the gown Anya will be wearing for the ceremony, the Palace remained tight-lipped, although many royal fashion watchers are claiming that the new photo shared is a massive hint of what's to come.

Dressed in a strapless white dress with a layered skirt and a silk belt, HRH looked beautiful standing beside the love of her life. The photo appears to have been taken at the Palace gardens.

Andrea Preaseley, editor-in-chief of Brindleton Sogue, predicts that Anya's wedding dress will be modern - much like HRH:

"I think we'll be seeing a sleek silhouette, and more modern elements. Anya is very much a modern woman, and I think she's bound to surprise us with her wedding ensemble. Maybe off-shoulder since she's very fond of those, maybe even a strapless number. I think there'll be a tiara, for sure, but the veil is 50-50. I'm very excited to see the entire look."

Don't get us wrong - we love this update, but do you think they'll reconsider and push the wedding to tomorrow? Pretty please?

[la-kuntessa]

A Very Classy Night

For the Hellcheer Discord Hotties

NYC

June, 1989

It’s such a beautiful, iconic, warm and sexy New York night that they have to take advantage of it. 

They’re dressed up, having left a fancy party thrown by or for a big donor at Chrissy’s dance school. It was in a fancy apartment on fifth avenue. Champagne, h’ors d’overs (Chrissy’s favorite food), beautiful art in a gorgeous, million-billion dollar apartment and an open bar. 

Super classy.

Eddie was on his best behavior, he charmed all the rich wives and their staff. He meticulously pressed his suit and bought a tie with matching pocket square. He wore his pointy boots and his hair neatly tied at his nape. Chrissy thinks he’s so handsome she could die. 

They bounce the classy party before everyone gets too drunk and things get inappropriate (Eddie thinks there’s a very sexual vibe between donors and dancers. Like, they throw money and you dance for them. Chilling.)

They’re not ready for this night to end, though! They have to hit as many bars as possible because they look and feel so cute. They want to get drunk and make out at a bar, then they want to go home, get stoned and make out some more.

A perfect Saturday night. 

So Eddie’s twirling Chrissy as they walk down Fifth Avenue and they find themselves in front of the Plaza Hotel. 

There’s fancy people coming in and out and they all look like they’ve been partying. Must be a wedding. It is a Saturday in June, after all. 

Hmmmm. 

It takes very little to persuade Chrissy to try to sneak into this fancy wedding. 

They enter the hotel from a little used side door, feeling like spies. Chrissy is giggling so hard it makes Eddie get the giggles and they have to take some circular breaths to calm down. They put Eddie’s jacket on Chrissy, she holds her heels. Eddie tucks his hair into his popped (ugh) collar and he puts on his sunglasses for extra asshole vibes.

They stumble over, pretending to be drunk yuppies, like they’ve been at this party for hours. There’s no one to check them so they walk in with purpose to the bar. 

The room is massive and there’s so many people…

This could be fun.

They grab two passed champagne flutes and sip nervously. 

No one is looking at them. 

The coast…is clear? 

They nibble on some canapés.

They hit the dance floor when the band starts up on some Temptations. 

They eat a couple of eclairs from the Viennese table.

This might actually work!

They’re back at the bar when one of the bridesmaids approaches them. 

Uh oh.

“Great party right!” Chrissy chirps.

“Totally,” says bridesmaid “Who are you with?”

Oh NO.

“Michael!” Eddie croaks. “We’re Michael’s kids!”

“Michael who?”

“Michael Michael!”

Chrissy acts fast.

“He’s right over there!” she points to the far side of the room.

The bridesmaid looks over-

-THEN BITCH THEY ARE RUNNING-

Ok, not running, running, more like scooting away at a fast clip.

They zip down some halls and miraculously find a unisex bathroom to hide in.

Chrissy and Eddie are laughing and trembling so hard, oh my god. 

They wait until they’re sure no one has followed them or called the cops or whatever rich people would do to two scalawags such as them. 

Eventually they slide out and slink onto 58th street where they indulge in a cab to 13th street to stop at the Pony Keg because Eddie used to work there and drinks for (mostly) free. 

On Monday Chrissy tells her dance friends about their adventure (turns out they left just in time. Things indeed get sexual; Antoine blew a waiter in the service stairwell and Lisette got multiple offers for threesomes. {She’ll do it if they pay her $500 cash})

So everybody had fun!

Years and years later, they’re at a HUGE charity gala at the Plaza. They’re having a great time schmoozing, sipping Champagne, feeling very rich and famous, when Eddie turns to Chrissy and says sotto voce 

“ok, if anyone asks, tell them we’re with Michael” 

Chrissy is confused, but Eddie sees the realization wash over her. She makes an undignified, loud, explosive laugh-snort and doubles over laughing, ending up squatting then sitting on the floor. 

She’s crying laughing, she can’t breathe.

She’s doing Chrissy Laugh #234- “ah-HA! Ah-HA! Ah-Ha!” one of Eddie’s faves.

He’s holding her wrap and purse so they don’t end up with her. ON the floor of THEE Plaza Hotel. “Christine, please! The press is here! She’s not drunk, I swear!” he laughs. She’s so fucking cute, he wants to kiss her all over her adorable face. 

The cameras flash all around them.

There’s a picture of Chrissy in her beautiful midnight blue satin gown, her hair, gleaming, diamonds at her ears and throat, at this major event…looking like she peed herself on the floor of the Plaza. 

This picture?

It ends up in Vanity Fair. 

It’s framed on Eddie’s desk. 

[inzaghisgirlfriend]

I've been dreaming about an AU where Jang Han-seo doesn't die and instead gets to live out his fantasy of being Vincenzo's little brother. They both get get brothers who aren't trying to kill them and stumble into a close familial relationship where they learn to trust each other. Han-seo calls Vincenzo for advice running Babel, and in return, he keeps an eye on the residents of Geumga plaza to make sure nothing happens to them. Han-Seo gets so close to Vincenzo that he gets to be his best man at the wedding in Malta to Hong Cha-young. Anything along those lines would be amazing!

In fairness, theirs isn't a dynamic I'm great at or a character voice I can give deserved justice to, but let's see where and how it goes...

- - -

When her surgery ends, and he gets both medical assurance and visual proof that Hong Cha Young's condition has stabilized, he asks Mr. Nam to keep brief vigil.

He somberly passes the men he has stationed at her door and the ends of the hallway to exit and descends down a back stairwell, climbing six floors to the ground level and then two more beneath it, exiting to a stand, hesitating, looking at set of double doors he's passed through just once before.

Inside them is a place he knows far too well.

He steps through them and then stands again a long while in silence, regarding the form laid out beneath the white sheet - all that's left of the man who'd laid his life down for both of them earlier.

And he says a final prayer for Jang Han Seo.

Before tossing a black duffel on the middle of the gurney.

There's a strangled sound and then motion, squirming, beneath the thin fabric.

"Hyung," a strangled voice grunts. "How is she?"

Alive, he wants to say. Because you tried to trade your stupid life for hers.

"Stable," he says instead, fully aware of how gruff and cold he sounds. Hoping it doesn't sound as feigned to Han Seo's ears as it does in his own. "Get dressed. Watch your wound. Cho-sajangnim is waiting outside. There's a passport in the bag."

"A fake one?!"

He doesn't answer - just turns and leaves the morgue without another word.

He can't stand this fucking place.

And wants to be the first person she sees when she opens her eyes again.

As well as the last one Jang Han Seok does before his close forever.

"Apologize to your brother," are his last words to the man, though the word settles poorly against his tongue for reasons he can't quite put a reason to.

Leaving her hours later is the closest thing he's ever felt to dying.

And in that miserable state, the last thing in the world he needs is company or another life to be responsible for. But both are what's waiting - and eagerly - for him, in a shitty, anonymous airport hotel room in Ankara.

"This shirt you packed doesn't fit me right," is the greeting he's offered, bone tired as he staggers into the room and past the smiling idiot to collapse face first on top the nearest of the two beds. "Nice material, though."

"It's tailored to my body," he mutters into the musty coverlet. "Of course it doesn't."

"These are yours," comes the excited answer. "Are they Booloara?"

"Booralro," he mumbles. "And close the damn door already."

Luca gives the guy's cheerfulness and guileless enthusiasm some major side eye when he, Matteo, Marco, and Nico arrive the next morning, a welcome delegation of loyal footsoldiers.

And Vincenzo hears his voice telling all of them to go easy on the guy.

Tries to cover it by adding something about recovering from a gunshot wound.

He can tell from Luca's quickly-hidden smile it's not convincing enough.

The six of them travel together to just outside Catania a day later, where they double their numbers, joined by a half dozen more who are disgusted by Paolo's bloodthirsty egotism and sloppy leadership.

Something they discuss at length. And often.

"Fratello," their ever-present hanger-on repeats quietly in an overdone accent, when yet another strategy session looses steam, slips, and drifts into the guys just cursing the asshole's name. "That means brother, doesn't it?"

He hates the way he doesn't hate the way the word sounds, suddenly, in either language, when it's coming from him.

Vincenzo spends a lot of of the next few days repeating things, moving from Korean to Italian and then back again. And a lot of what he's translating from Italian requires additional and very basic explanation. And from Korean, extremely heavy editing of some absolutely terrible ideas.

But he's surprised by the way the guys seem to have developed a odd fondness for 'Aldo', as he's apparently decided to re-anoint himself. And none seem to mind the way he sits and smiles so broadly while they debate and plan for war and bloodshed around him.

He does start to pick up a little Italian after awhile.

A lot of Italian, actually, which Vincenzo notices but dismisses somewhat, since the vocabulary he's best seems attributable to the late nights his men spend blowing off steam and playing poker than any to remarkable intellectual capacity.

Until he starts picking up Sicilian, too, casually, out walking the city's marketplaces and fetching coffee and pastries from the nearby cafe.

"The guy's smart," Luca says quietly one day, as they watch Aldo disassembling the safehouse's espresso machine, thinking he'll somehow find the cause of its recent failure. "You should try to find a role for him after you..."

Luca pauses, unwilling, like everyone seems to be, to say what needs to happen next.

"...when everything settles again," he finishes, eventually.

"He isn't smart," Vincenzo counters, gruffly, wincing at the way the emergency packet of instant coffee he's scoured from out of his hand luggage makes his heart yearn for a law office on the other side of the world. And the woman sitting behind a desk inside of it.

"And my goal is to get him out of my hair as soon as possible," he adds.

The next morning, Luca sets Vincenzo's espresso beside his breakfast plate, raising an eyebrow meaningfully. It smells freshly made; the ghost, it seems, has been successfully exorcised from its machine, which sits back on the kitchen's countertop.

And Vincenzo lets himself be quietly impressed.

When they arrive in Rome, there's four more men who join them. And a plan.

Aldo's authored parts of it, but in three more days, when Vincenzo makes his unannounced return to Milan, he won't be there to execute on it.

Aldo will go instead with Matteo and Nico and ready the island for the ones who survive long enough to join them.

"Hyung, I want to help," he whines, when he's given the news. "Not hide."

"Stop calling me that," is all manages to say.

Whether he'll let the man see violence or risk his damn life again isn't up for discussion.

Before they depart, though, Aldo comes and finds Vincenzo after sunset, standing with an untouched glass of wine on the balcony overlooking the Piazza Navona.

He clears his throat to announce his presence and entry, something he's always careful to do and a habit Vincenzo doesn't like thinking too much about the origins of.

"I thought you'd gone out to dinner with the others," he says without turning.

"I stayed," he answers simply, joining Vincenzo against the balustrade to take in the city lights that seemed to reach to and beyond the dark horizon. "Wasn't hungry."

This rings entirely false.

He knows only one other person on earth with an appetite more voracious.

Someone he misses more than anything.

Which resteels his faintly wavering resolve.

He needs, more than wants, to do what he's fated to tomorrow. Change his family for the better. Claim back what's his, what he's earned, from the one who mistook it for mere birthright.

Settle this score once and for all.

But images have been flooding his mind all day - trading good-natured insults while kicking the football around together in the vast yard to the east of the main house, driving together on meandering errands through Liguria talking over a radio turned up too loud, awake late at night watching movies together, laughing when they realize that they're both madly in love with with the pretty actress from Ho Voglia di Te.

It's that boy, every bit as much as the man he's become, that he must face.

"He tried to kill you once," says the soft voice of the man beside him, after a long moment's silence. "He'll only keep doing it until he succeeds."

He doesn't say anything. About the boy he remembers. About Fabio and what he'd think.

About the way he knows Aldo is right.

"You have lots of good men beside you," he says, still quiet, hesitating again before adding, "And gli amici sono i fratelli che ti scegli..."

And then he goes and leaves Vincenzo to his thoughts.

Which recall to him more recent memories. Violent confrontations, and another set of two brothers who really weren't.

A week later, when Vincenzo arrives in Pagliuzza, his unenviable task complete and his family once again in hand, Aldo's is the first face he sees among the men clustered and waiting there on the island's small dock.

And the only one that's somber the way Vincenzo's soul is still, despite the decisive victory.

Lucia Cassano is a distant cousin - second or third, Vincenzo can never remember how to count through the lines of consanguination correctly.

But when he gets word of how Fabio's uncle's daughter's daughter is being treated by her Luciano sottocapo husband, he dispatches Matteo and Luca to end it. End him. And bring her to Pagliuzza.

It's why he's built this island, after all, as a respite for those whose lives are steeped in violence they did not choose.

That Aldo makes a perfect close companion in those first few days shouldn't be a surprise.

That it continues, however, very much is.

As is the way his men are apparently the nosiest gossips to ever walk God's earth.

Though Aldo is no better, and, despite living now four months amongst hardened mafia soldiers, hasn't yet learned to keep his eyes on his own business and not ask questions he's got no right to.

Luca betrays it first, telling Vincenzo that Aldo's questioned him twice now about the postcards that Luca ferries to Valletta each month, along with the island's regular mail.

"And what did you tell him," Vincenzo bristles.

"That I don't know anything either," Luca answers, though it's clear he's only very loosely paraphrasing whatever was said. "Apart from what I saw when I visited Seoul..."

His candor earns him a glare.

Aldo, for his part, is far more direct.

"I'm sure she misses you, too, hyung," Aldo says, apropos of nothing, while continuing to use the nickname Vincenzo’s certainly never given him permission to.

"I don't know who you're talking about," he answers, stubbornly, as they watch the sun slip behind the ocean at the horizon in silence.

"Okay," Aldo answers him. "But she does..."

One afternoon, he appears in Vincenzo's office and asks, shyly, if Lucia can move into the villa at the farthest end that Aldo claimed for himself when they first came to the island.

It takes nearly all Vincenzo's resolve not to leap up from his chair and pull the man into a joyful embrace.

Instead he continues perusing the contract in front of him, huffs out a breath, and warns him to warn her about how life on the island means living as an open book.

And grins when Luca appears the next day with a scandalous grin and "news."

Six months later, it's those same two nosy assholes that scheme and corner Vincenzo in his office with big dopey smiles, a fake diplomatic passport, and a plane reservation.

Though it's Aldo alone who's tasked with retrieving him from the mission two days later, discerning in a single glance that Vincenzo's brief return went better than it had had any right to.

It's him Vincenzo trusts to arrange her first visit to Pagliuzza three weeks later. And to collect her from the airport.

He hears them chattering, even above the boat's motor, as Luca tosses a tow line to Matteo to bring it fast against the dock's mooring bouys.

It's been...he doesn't know how long, actually, since he's heard Aldo speak Korean.

Something he stops pondering the moment his eyes meet Hong Cha Young's.

Just before his restraint, his private nature, and every one of his best intentions give out on him all at once and he pulls her into his arms before her second foot even hits the planks of his dock.

Even with Luca and Aldo just standing there, grinning like idiots, watching them.

When she goes home ten days later, he thinks of sending Aldo back with her. To Seoul. Finally finding a way to send him back for good, return him home.

He could set him up to assist with driving the final stake into the blackened heart of Babel, he thinks, now that Cha Young's work has picked it nearly clean of both revenue and criminality and sent it into receivership and imminent failure.

And it makes some sense to send him back to keep watch over the rest of his family, with all of them still clinging so stubbornly to that wretched bit of concrete and glass in the middle of Seoul, their boss and queen forever bringing trouble its way.

But he also has her, and she's more than capable.

And in no need of a babysitter.

So Aldo stays.

Ahead of Cha Young's third visit, he calls her on their encrypted line, and tells her to pack an evening dress.

"We've been through this," she objects. "I'm not sitting through an opera. Even for you."

He rolls his eyes. He'll get her to one someday.

"No, there's a wedding this weekend," he says. "Small one. On the island."

And so they watch, hand in hand, that Saturday, as Aldo and Lucia stand facing one another at sunset, both of them knees deep in the warm surf off the island's western coast, with Father Efizio gamely standing there with them, the ends of his vestments swaying to and fro in the gentle tide.

He can't avoid the hug he's pulled into after they rings are exchanged and they're back in the beach with the rest of the revelers.

But mainly because Vincenzo can't see it coming soon enough to evade it. Damn salt air, always making his eyes water.

"Noona looks so pretty," Aldo says, years later, grinning broadly as he enters the small chamber where the groomsmen are set to assemble in five minutes' time. "The veil, the dress, all of it."

The guy's tie is crooked, as always, and Vincenzo sighs, standing up and moving towards him to undo it.

Aldo straightens his posture automatically as the ends come loose and Vincenzo busily takes them up to start over again.

The man's never really gained an eye for aesthetic detail.

"How is Elena," Vincenzo asks, entirely unable to picture the woman he's about to marry in bridal attire. "Does her dress fit right?"

Buying clothing for a three year old who grows like a weed was a bit like hitting a moving target.

Aldo laughs, though, a sound Vincenzo never tires of.

"Yes, but she got too excited to wait and dumped the petals out of her basket out front of the church. Matteo and Luca had to scramble around and save what they could."

He looks not the least bit chagrined, the way fathers always seem to be, even when their children run wild and are ill mannered.

Though he adores the girl, and couldn't not have had his goddaughter serve as his flower girl.

On which subject...

"Small change in how we rehearsed," Vincenzo interjects, as he finishes the knot and stands back to examine his work.

"Oh?"

He nods, less answer to Aldo's question and more expression of satisfaction with a job now properly done.

And then he turns back to the small table behind him.

He palms what he needs to from its surface, and then turns again, hand extending Aldo's way, smiling inwardly at how the sudden movement doesn't make the other man reflexively flinch anymore.

"Yes. You're standing on my left now," he says, mildly, reaching a little further forward to prompt Aldo to take what he's holding up between them. "Between Luca and I."

Aldo frowns but raises hand for Vincenzo to deposit its cache into his palm.

"But he's best man," Aldo says, looking down in bewilderment at the platinum bands he's now holding.

There's a knock at the door.

Speak of the devil.

Though Luca had been very understanding about the change.

"Ah," Vincenzo says, moving away and towards the door. "Yes. But I thought about it. And decided today's a day I need my brother beside me."

He isn't surprised when arms encircle him from behind before he manages to reach the door.

Or when that damn salty sea air clouds his vision once again.

- - -

The end.

I know it didn't entirely track along the lines you'd had, especially towards the middle and end, but characters sometimes do what they want, and I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

Thank you for prompt/ask (and reading it).

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Love Conquers All (Supposedly)

Chapter Five of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: It's been challenging - to say the least - coming back to Pigeon Creek. How is it possible for everything to be so different and yet it all feels exactly the same? Linley's not sure. All she knows is that she misses New York City, the glitz, the glam, the fashion, and Bradley Bradshaw. God, does she miss Bradley Bradshaw. Like a night in shining armor, it's a phone call from Bradley that reminds her what she's fighting for. It's just her luck that she'll have to fight for Bradley by fighting Jake until he signs the divorce papers, right?

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3757

A/N: Oh, here we go! This is the chapter where we finally get to see more of Linley's relationships with the other denizens of Pigeon Forge, not just Jake and Mav! I hope you all love it!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

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New York City - Mayor’s Residence

Bradley can’t believe that his mom is still going on and on about Linley and the wedding. Linley’s only been back in Alabama for a day; they’ve been engaged for just a little bit longer than that, and Carole Bradshaw is on the warpath.He never would have agreed to meet his mom for breakfast.

“Do you even know who she is, Brad? I mean, what her family is like, where she comes from? Don’t give me that shit about how she’s told you stories. Do you have any proof that Linley Floyd is who she says she is?” Even at home, his mom always looks like she’s ready to attend a board meeting or kiss babies for a few additional polling points. But more likely, she’s expecting photographers to pop up when she least expects it for an interview with the mayor of New York. If it’s happened once, it’ll happen again. That’s one of Carole Bradshaw’s favorite mottos and it’s one she lives by.

“I love her, Mom.” Bradley can’t help trying to reason with her.

“That’s nice, sweetheart. But you have to understand, we’re not better than the people we serve, or worse. We’re just different. We serve the people to the best of our abilities, and we have to be good examples.” She’s got a frown on her face as she puts the newspaper down.

“Do you have to be so controlling?” It’s a question Bradley’s been meaning to ask for a very long time, and even if he probably shouldn’t ask it, it still slips out.

“Is it controlling if I know what’s best for you?” She takes a sip of her coffee before continuing. God she’s impossible.

“In any case, you tell Linley that I’ve put a hold on the Plaza Hotel here in New York for June. It’ll give you both a nice, long engagement to look forward to.” 

Bradley waits until she’s mid-mouthful of her poached eggs and toast before he interjects, “We’re getting married in Ireland over Christmas, actually.”

She swallows hurriedly and that’s the most satisfaction Bradley’s had in a long time. That feeling doesn’t last however, because she spits out, “If you think I’m going to let some girl talk you into getting married in some foreign country…” 

This is about when Bradley starts seeing red. “She’s not some girl, mom. She’s my fiancée.”

“You are just like your father. One minute you’re brilliant, controlled, and steadfast, the next minute you’re throwing it all away on some girl. You know how hard it was for your father to claw his way back into politics once he married me. Why would you make the same mistake he did?!” Bradley’s left in shock as his mom races out of the dining room like something he said just burned her. Okay, so maybe reconciling Carole Bradshaw to the fact that Bradley’s marrying a fashion designer from Hicksville, Alabama is going to take a bit longer than initially expected.

Pigeon Creek, Alabama - Main Street

A couple of hours later finds you in your dad’s beat up old truck rattling back into town. The midmorning sun is hot already as it beams down on the road. You weren’t planning on being in Pigeon Creek for so long. This errand should have taken max half an hour. How could you forget how stubborn Jake could be when he wanted to be? With Jake being a complete idiot, it’s going to take much longer than you expected to get the divorce you’ve been trying to get for the past seven years. So you’re going into town to withdraw some cash and prepare for the day. You call your lawyer while you’re on the road. You need to know how long it will take to get this divorce signed, sealed and buried away.

“I understand Mr. Fitch. Tell me, how long does a contested divorce take?” You pull into a parking spot in town.

“Eighteen months?! I don’t even have eighteen days, Mr. Fitch!” You continue talking to Mr. Fitch as you walk down the street to the bank. Of course, just then, one of the hicks in town starts cat-calling you from his truck. But the more he says, the more his voice sounds familiar. “I have to call you back, Mr. Fitch. In the meantime can you please see if there is anything you can do?”

You hang up on your lawyer with every intention of giving this hick a piece of your mind. At least, that is, until you see who it is. The sight of an old friend is enough to have you veering across the side of the road towards the truck stopped right in the middle of the dusty street.

“Bobby?! Bobby Floyd, look at you!” You wrap your arms around him and it finally, finally feels like you’re home. If there was anyone you could call your best friend other than Jake, it would be Bob. 

“Look at you, Lin! You look fantastic! New York's been treating you well, huh?” You grin up at Bobby, nodding as he pushes his glasses up his nose.

“How’ve you been?” As he sets you down you see a couple of members of the town’s gossip circle looking at you and Bobby. The hug alone would be enough to have tongues a-waggin’.

“I'm good, Bobby. Though, I shouldn’t keep you too long. Wouldn’t want to make your girl back home angry.” Though you’re not sure he has a girl, looking at the slight blush on his face, and well, who are you if you don’t ask?

“You do have a girl, don’t you?” 

When you prod, gently, because this is Bobby, sweet, soft-spoken Bobby, all you get is, “I can barely afford to take care of myself, forget some high-maintenance babe.”

“Weren’t you dating Cindy in high school? I thought you guys were getting really close!” You’re smiling at him as he grins unrepentantly and a little sheepishly at you.

“Naw. She’s a women's softball coach up in Nashville.” You truly can't believe that he and Cindy didn’t stay together after high-school. They were so close.

"I'm sorry about that, Bobby." You really are. Bob's got a heart of gold. If she couldn't see what a catch he is, someone somewhere is sure to. As you look at one of your closest friends you’re not surprised at all to see mischief in his eyes.

“Don't be, Lin. People grow and change and keep secrets. I mean, you have your own fair share of secrets, huh? Of course, yours we can all read about on the internet. Guess we know all about the cock in your henhouse.” 

You gasp and smack his arm. “You sure do know how to make a girl blush!” You have less time than you thought if Bobby Ray already knows about Bradley, and his nickname the tabloids so lovingly bestowed after the first snaps they got of him on the beach in close-fitting swim trunks. Honestly the paparazzi need to get better at nicknames for people, because Rooster Bradshaw is far from tongue-in-cheek. Come on Joe Nobody, you really want everyone to know you think the New York Secretary of Housing has a big dick? Natasha had laughed until she cried and then immediately asked you if it was true. But you digress. You need Jake to sign those papers before all the paparazzi in the country descend on Greeneville and by extension Pigeon Creek. It’s only a matter of time and it’s your worst nightmare. You know how to talk to reporters about clothes, not scandals.

“I have to get back to the factory. Are you going to be in town for a while? I’d love to catch up.” Bobby seems none-the-wiser to your inner turmoil as he hugs you tight one more time before opening his truck door.

You smile at your friend, murmuring, “I hope not. I just need to hit the bank and talk to Jake about something and I should be out of town pretty soon.”

The minute you say the words, “hit the bank”, Bob is already recoiling in terror and you know why. You wave him away with a smile as he drives away. But that leaves you to look at the Pigeon Creek bank. It still looks the same as the last time you saw it. But you also remember why Bob recoiled in terror. Accidentally blow up a bank one time and everyone automatically assumes that you’re going to do it again. Eugene at the bank still looks terrified to see you, for one, when you walk through the doors.

“Good to see you, Miss Linley. Miss Dorothy, I’m taking my lunch.” Is all you get out of him before he’s running out of the bank like you’re going to blow it up again.

You walk up to the teller window, and are surprised to see someone you think you vaguely recognise standing there. 

“Dorothy?! Is that you? You look amazing!” You’re not lying. The last time you saw Dorothy Thompson she had on braces and looked completely different.

“Hey Linley. It’s good to see you. Thanks. The last time you saw me, I was about 110 pounds heavier.” She smacks her gum as she looks you up and down. "You look great too."

“I was looking for an ATM, but I didn't see one.” You point out the front like it’ll show Dorothy the lack of an ATM outside.

“Yup. Russ hates ‘em. He thinks it’ll detract from the customer experience in the bank. Call me Dot, Lin.” She leans through the window a bit closer. “We’ve known each other for years, after all!” 

You’re not sure what to say in the face of her overwhelmingly Southern Charm. Oh, Toto you’re not in New York anymore. When did backstabbing double-speak become more comfortable than well-meant small-town nosiness for you, anyways?

“So…” Her voice drops to a whisper as she murmurs, “I hear from Mickey that you and Jake had a pretty wild reunion. But then again, it’s just pillow talk, talkin’.”

“You and Mickey?” You can’t believe it. Dorothy hated Mickey when you were in school.

“Yeah, it’s been three years.” She shows you her ring, smirking, as she says, “It isn’t Tiffany’s or anything, but anyways, you can’t believe everything you hear on TV, now can you?”

Yeah, you’re definitely running out of time if the news of your engagement is already on TV.

“Um, I’d like to make a withdrawal out of my …” You fumble in your purse to pull out your wallet.

“Your joint account?” At Dorothy’s innocent suggestion, you get a wonderfully wicked idea. “You know, your joint account with Jake? From what I hear, y’all are still married.”

“Yes.” You grin at Dorothy as innocently as you possibly can. “Yes we are. From my joint account, please.”

With the frankly eye-watering amount of money you’d withdrawn from the joint account, you’re ready for war. You spend the rest of the morning going to all of the home decor stores in the greater Greenville area and buying things to make Jake’s house look like home. You finish up with a batch of groceries and let yourself into the house with as much aplomb as you can muster. Jake wanted a wife, he’s going to get a wife. It’s just icing on the cake that hopefully he’ll be so pissed off that he signs the papers and you can escape Pigeon Creek with nothing more than the accent.

When you see the old sea-plane land on the lake with a plume of water from the kitchen window, you're ready to play the part. What part? The part that will get you a divorce in a spectacular style and with spectacular speed. Jake looks exhausted as he walks through the front door - which you'd expected. But the exhaustion soon fades into pure rage when he sees you walking out of the kitchen wearing an apron and carrying a bottle of wine.

"Hi, Jake!" Your voice is all saccharine Southern sweetness. "Welcome home, honey! How was your day? How's your mama doing?"

He chucks his leather jacket through the open bedroom door, uncaring of how it thuds heavily to the ground moments later, before glaring at you.

"Cut the shit, Linley. Where's all my stuff?"

"I just picked up after you, sugar." You cup his cheek gently, rubbing at a bit of grease on his cheek. "It's what a wife ought to do, isn't it?"

"Not a wife who doesn't live here." You just shrug before walking back into the kitchen to continue chopping up veggies for the salad you're making as the final touch to dinner. The kitchen smells fantastic, if you do say so yourself. You’d gone to all the trouble to bake up a lasagne after all, his mom’s recipe, and you know he’ll be hungry the moment he smells it.

"Can you just tell me where the hide-a-key is, Linley?" He sounds like he's at the end of his rope as he takes in all of the things you've bought for the house. You just ignore him.

"I spoke to Mrs. Garcia about her tractor. You know, I'm so happy that we can let bygones be bygones. We’re all clear, though I will say that it isn’t nice that you called the police on your wife, Jakey." You add the final bit of cucumber to the salad before setting it on the dining room table.

"It's nice to hear your accent again." Jake's looking at the ceramic fruit on the mantel like it's an alien creature. "I wasn't aware you could find and lose it so easily, though."

"I found a lot of things today." You toss the salad a bit before walking back into the kitchen where Jake is looking at the magic you've wrought in his filthy old kitchen.

"What the hell happened in here?!" He sounds shocked and it makes a wicked glee spark in your chest. "My magnets are all gone,” His voice hushes as he opens the fridge door and sticks his head in. “And what the hell happened to my fridge?! It's all chick food!"

"That's not chick food, honey! It's light beer. Fewer calories, you know? You're getting a bit of a tummy, baby." You pet his stomach a couple of times before walking back over to chop some parsley on the cutting board. You’d found a singular bottle of ketchup and six-pack of beer when you looked in it earlier. The man’s been eating takeout every day, for every meal, and he’s still got rock-hard abs. It doesn’t escape you how his stomach growls at the smell of a home-cooked dinner in the oven.

"I tried to pick out a new bed at the Sit 'n Sleep but everything was disgusting. Have you been there lately?! I guess I should just order something in from New York." You keep your eyes on the cutting board, even as you hear Jake's boots clomp back out into the living room.

"Darlin' you can buy whatever you want. It's your money, after all." Your grin is vindictive as you hear those words.

"But I thought you told me I should think of it as our money when we got married, Jake?" He freezes in the doorway, beer can still held in his hand and you can't resist stepping just a little closer.

"Are the words 'joint checking' ringing a bell, Jakey?" 

His green eyes are flashing dangerously when he turns back to you.

"How much of that money did you take?" You can hear the rage in every word as you look innocently up at him.

"All of it." The words drip off of your lips like the poison off of the apple the Evil Queen gave to Snow White as a flush builds on his cheeks.

"Sunovabitch!" His roar is deeply satisfying, as is the way he crushes the empty can and chucks it away.

"Why do you have so much money anyway, Jakey? There's no way you made it all working at the tire factory. You're not doing anything illegal now, are you?" You're so close to victory you can nearly taste it. He doesn't answer your questions, his face stony as he glares at you.

"Just sign the divorce papers and I'll give it all back." You proffer the papers and pen to him.

"Fine." You're already grinning in victory when he grabs the pen. "On one condition, I don't ask you about your boyfriend and you don't ask me about my life. Deal?"

Your joy at your near victory slips away in an instant. Jake looks disappointed in you.

"Who?” You clear your throat and try again, “Who told you?" You're more than a little shocked that the news has spread so far around town already.

"Nobody told me, sweetheart. I may talk slow, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid." He snatches the pen from your hand and pulls the papers out of their envelope. “ I know how to use the internet just as well as the folks in New York. You know the cafe Mrs. Garcia runs? It has a computer in it now.”

There's an imperceptible shake to his long fingers as he glances over the papers.

"I guess it's true what they say, huh? Nobody finds their soulmate at ten years old." His words make you feel inexplicably sad. But just as soon as he says those words, a smirk is taking over his face. You should’ve known better than to fall for his bullshit.

“Actually, you know what, Linley?” Jake sets the papers and pen down before walking into the open bedroom. You pretend not to notice how the muscles in his back ripple as Jake tugs on a plaid shirt the color of his eyes. 

“I forgot that I have a date tonight. And you know what? I should probably have my lawyer look over those papers. I’m just a dumb corn-fed hick, weren’t those your words, sweetheart? I should probably make sure you’re not taking me to the cleaner’s or anything.” 

Your scream of frustration echoes in your ears as you follow Jake’s truck to The Hard Deck a couple of hours later. Dinner had been tense, incredibly so, considering how Jake couldn’t seem to stand looking at anything but his plate and you were busy trying to envision how easily you could wrap your hands around his throat and strangle the smug grin off of his face. It’s typical of Jake to take a date to his mama’s bar, the one place where he will never have to pay for drinks. The live band sounds just as tuneful (and loud) as always as you pull up to the gravel lot in front of the Hard Deck. Just before you get out, you pull out Bradley’s ring and put it on your finger. It makes you miss him just a little less, and fills you with enough confidence to face all the old friends you’ll no doubt find inside. Just hearing the country songs getting butchered has your blood pressure rising. What you wouldn’t give to be back in New York getting dinner and drinks with Bradley right now.

You can picture it, practically in front of your eyes. The bartenders who are always polite and know how to pour the perfect martini, the jazz band playing softly in the background, and Bradley, your Bradley, sitting in front of you in a perfectly tailored suit smiling at you. A place where all you can smell is his cologne and sweet perfumed air. It sounds like heaven and absolutely not like the Hard Deck, which stinks faintly of horses and cows and strongly of spilled beer and liquor, even from where you stand in the parking lot near your car, quite far away from the swinging doors. 

When your phone rings, you don’t even hesitate to pull it out, you’re that desperate for the reminders of the life you were leading just days ago. It’s a phone number you’ve had memorized since the first week you met the man who owns it, and as you pull open the phone, you’re chanting, “I love you” until the sound of Bradley’s laughter washes over you.

“Aww, honey. Miss me that badly?” You can picture his smile even thousands of miles away.

“More than you know, baby. More than you know.” You’re filled with a sense of homesickness even as you’re smiling into the phone.

“I miss you too, honey. But, I actually called because I saw something that might make you smile. I picked up a copy of New York Magazine, and I was reading the articles. I’m going to read this quote to you, and you tell me what you think.”

“Linley Floyd is a cool breath of fresh air blowing through Fashion Week. Her designs are fresh and exciting. We’re going to be keeping our eyes on her as her star in the fashion world is on the rise!”

You giggle and jump up and down a little in excitement at hearing his words.

“Bradley! I needed to hear that almost as much as I need you here with me, right now.” His groan makes you ache to have him in your bed and in your arms.

“I can fly down whenever you’d like, honey. Just say the word and I’ll be right there.” 

You blow a kiss down the phone before sighing out, “I know, baby. And while I’d love to have you here, I still haven’t had the chance to tell my dad about us. And it’s a small town. The minute you drive into town wearing one of your nice suits, everyone would know. Let me tell my dad first, alright, baby?” You can’t help your soft smile or how  missing Bradley feels like something is missing in your life. “I love you, baby. Goodnight!”

Thanks to Bradley, you finally have enough confidence to walk through the doors and enter the Hard Deck. You’re getting looks, from the boys and men you’ve known practically your whole life, and it makes you wonder, just once if you should’ve taken your Dad’s offer to borrow one of his old flannels. But you shake those thoughts off. This is who you are now. Pigeon Creek can deal with it if they don’t like it. You elbow your way to the bar. If you’re here, you might as well grab a drink, right?

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

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[rom-e-o]

✨Wedding/Honeymoon Headcanons ✨

Modern!AU Ebenezer/Constance

-Their wedding is grand, but the guest list is small. Friends and family only. Extra security is hired to make sure no paparazzi sneak inside and spoil ANYTHING ABOUT THE DAY.

-This is Constance’s second wedding, and Eb’s first. As a result, she is EXTRA INSISTENT upon Ebenezer being honest about wants and desires. “What would you like for flowers? How about colors? Venue? Music?”

-Connie’s dress had a golden-ish hue to it, and she wears her hair down and loose, because that feels best to her. Ebenezer’s suit has golden accents to the buttons and cuffs to match.

-The official wedding color is gold (shocker) and the flowers are lilies, forsythia and sunflowers (au autre shock).

-Ebenezer asks Harry for help, and goes to him with any nervous questions about the ceremony and the day of. Harry, ever a golden retriever of a man, is over-eager and READY to do anything to make sure it's the best day ever! ("Oh, Uncle, have you taken waltz lessons yet? You have? Good! Have you practiced? Good! What about cake? I know an excellent baker! You'll need low-sugar and gluten-free options too! Oh, and don't forget favors! Here, let's make an excel list. Oh, this is so exciting!")

-Bob is more tepid and introverted, and as such, his guidance is more subdued. ("Don't think about how to need to react to every thing. Just ... react. Naturally. Don't try to plan your moves or act a certain way. Just be you, because that who she wants to marry.")

-Prior to the ceremony, Ebenezer is pacing around like a madman. He's excited, but also SO nervous. "I'm not worried about marrying her - I'm worried about being good enough for her. What if she regrets saying 'yes'? Would she?" He knows he's being irrational, but marrying a woman after all these years ... he feels underserving.

-Theresea, Connie's mother, attends the wedding. In fact, she's right in the front row. There is an empty seat beside her, reserved specifically for Connie's deceased father, Arthur.

-Prudence is a very good flower girl, and will get treats later.

-Ebenezer absolutely cries upon seeing her walk down the aisle. Constance tears up too, so both are crying at the altar. Dorks in love.

-Their first kiss turns into about three to four kisses, because neither wants to part ways immediately.

-Their first dance song? "At Last" by Etta James, followed by "Sarai Qui".

-They begin their honeymoon at The Ritz in London. They then will take a train to the English countryside to enjoy some solitude. Then, they'll fly to New York and conclude their stay at The Plaza.

✨HONEYMOON (PG-16)✨

The second the door to the hotel room shuts, they are ON EACH OTHER.

-Their honeymoon is not the first time they've slept together as a couple, so they already know each other's likes and dislikes.

-It is a multi-session night. Their sex starts frantic and needy, but by the third or fourth round, it's slow and passionate lovemaking all-around.

-They share a bath after their lovemaking (probably at about 3 a.m.).

-Constance asks Ebenezer to join her, and considering her past, he's more than willing to join. He parks her right in his lap, helping with shampoo and body conditioner.

-It IS their first time sharing a bath, so they do have some soapy little slip-ups, but both are keen to laugh about it.

-They absolutely have matching silk pajamas. Dorks in love, I tell you!

-They are unaware, but their first daughter, Starla, is essentially conceived this night.

Thank you all for your support!!!

@quill-pen @crimson-phantom-designs @st0r-fruit @ray-painter @themostanonymousscribbler

[mariatesstruther]

okay WAIT an eloise at christmastime x tlou au in which tommy and joel miller work at the plaza hotel to support their niece sarah, who gets to live at the plaza in exchange. ellie lives there too, for the same reasons—anna is working there as a line cook, and the plaza’s owner has allowed both of them to stay for as long as they need. tess is their general manager, and maria is the owner’s daughter, a law student at columbia who stays at the plaza to help out her father when she has the time

the plaza is owned by hank moreau, a hotel mogul who made a legacy being the first black man to own and manage the plaza through his longstanding hospitality company. he employed anna, joel, tommy, and tess at the plaza when he took-over, both as a thanks and as recognition for their hard work at his other hotels for years

okay so the actual plot: maria is coming back in town because she’s engaged and set to be married at the plaza, but her fiancé is actually a douchebag and tricking her into thinking he loves her so that he can steal her and hank’s money. sarah and ellie find this out somehow, probably hear him bragging about his plan to his buddies over poker as they sneak around in the adults-only area if the hotel. and theyre like!!!!!!! absolutely!!!!! fucking!!!!! not!!!!!!! we NEED to stop this guy!!!!!

exposition and maria/tommy first meeting under the cut 🫶🏾

sarah and ellie have known maria for years, since they were both little girls that had just moved into the plaza and maria had invited them both up to her penthouse suite for snacks and movies. she told them all the best places to hide, the best days to get free food from the banquet and the days to avoid, as well as who to go if they ever need help—including her, tess, and her father. point is, the girls love maria. they’ve always loved maria. so theyr’e Not Fucking with this Fiancée Asshole or this farce of a wedding

they also know that tommy is in love with maria, has been basically since the moment the two met, which was just a few weeks before that first sleepover. sarah and ellie were there to witness it all: they’d been messing around with tommy’s tool cart as he went through rooms and lame parts of the hotel to fix shit. sarah had sent ellie flying down the hall with it right as maria had been walking around the corner—ellie crashed into maria so hard, she’d been knocked into the wall behind her, the folder full of papers she’d been holding flying all over the place

tommy, sarah, and ellie had all winced at the crash. at that point, they were all new and nervous to be there, and they knew who maria was by name but had yet to meet her. still, without knowing who she was, all of them knew fucking around in front of the guests was the number one way to get kicked out of the plaza.

“jesus, girls. mira por donde vas!” tommy had immediately gone over to where she was on the floor, offering her his hand, expecting her to be pissed and for his and joel’s chance to give sarah a better future to go straight down the drain he’d just fixed.

but then he’d heard her start to laugh. and it was the most glorious giggle he’d ever heard. maria smiled up at tommy from the ground, papers fallen around her like snowfall and bringing out the sparkling white of her teeth—he’d fallen head-over-heels in love with her right then and there.

“ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, reverently taking the small, perfectly-manicured hand she’d slipped into his and pulling her up gently. “i am so, so fuckin’ sorry for that—i mean, uh—i apologize for them. think the girls got a lil’ too carried away.” the last part had been expressed pointedly over his shoulder at ellie and sarah, who were standing shyly by his cart with childlike embarrassment on both their faces.

“no, it’s fine, i’m just fine. no need to be sorry,” maria’s still laughing by the time she gets up, smiling right up into tommy’s face and—wow, is she beautiful. he doesn’t remember ever being stunned by anyone this much in his whole life. she’s got long, beautiful locs with loosely-curled hair at the ends, falling long down past her waist like rapunzel. wearing a short pink blazer dress and matching heeled loafers, she’s a confusing yet dazzling combination of intimidating and adorable. tommy feels the heat of her hand in his even after she lets go. “i may have needed the laugh, honestly. thanks, girls.” she directs the words to ellie and sarah kindly and genuinely, and tommy feels himself immediately warm to her as he watches the anxiety on their faces ease from over his shoulder.

“sorry for knocking the shit out of you, lady,” ellie says, and he cringes.

luckily, it only serves to make maria laugh once more, and the woman lifts a hand to wave away the apology. “i wasn’t watching where i was walking, anyway. my fault,” she insists kindly, then turns her attention back to tommy. he finds he likes being under the weight of her sharp, pretty brown eyes. “the real problem here is that i don’t recognize you guys, and i recognize everyone. are you new? i’m maria. maria moreau.”

“oh, shit,” tommy can’t stop himself from saying. he feels sarah and ellie both turn their eyes to him, instantly picking up on his nerves. he can see the amusement on maria’s face at his clear and shocked recognition. he immediately goes down to start picking up her fallen papers, hands fumbling as fast as his words. “we really are so, so sorry, ma’am, and didn’t mean to disturb your day. we don’t do this often at all, i promise ya. i just needed to watch them the girls while i took care of an emergency repair, so—,”

“jesus, cowboy, calm down,” maria cut him off immediately, voice amused and her smirk melting into a pleased, charmed smile. to tommy’s surprise, she drops right down to the floor next to him and starts collecting her papers beside him, uttering a small thank-you as he passes her the ones he’d already picked up. “i told you already, i needed a laugh. don’t worry about it.”

“so i won’t have to worry about your father comin’ to my door and firing me for nearly knockin’ the head off his daughter?” tommy’s tone is joking and light, but there is clear underlying anxiety in his voice as he asks. the quip is said low enough that neither sarah and ellie hear, the girls talking behind them as they pick up the few tools knocked from tommy’s cart in it’s collision.

“not if i have anything to say about it,” maria says, her tone light but serious. she gives him a long, pointed once-over that he can’t help but interpret as flirting, a blush heating up his face before he can control himself. “i really don’t recognize you at all, cowboy. i was right about you being new, wasn’t i?”

“yes, ma’am.”

“what’s your name?”

“tommy,” he responds as they both get up. at first, they end up just a tad too close, so he takes a polite step back as he hands her the last of her papers.

“tommy,” maria repeats back to him, and he feels a rush of something shoot up his spine, forcing him to stand up straighter and taller, at the sound of his name from her lips. she must notice, because she smirks at him knowingly as she holds her messy folder to his chest. “you don’t have to worry about a thing. i think i’d like to keep you around.”

and she had—well, her father had, technically. but maria had remained close friends with the millers and the williams for years, always treating sarah and ellie with gifts, stopping by the halls to talk with joel while he fixed pipes or by the kitchen to hang with anna while she did her prep—and always speaking, joking, and flirting with tommy every chance she got. they never became anything official; mostly because, according to joel and anna, tommy was always too chickenshit to ask her out. by the time maria finished her ADA training and moved out of state, tommy was surely in love with her but equally determined not to hold her back. he always wanted the best for her and believed she deserved far better than the maintenance man at her father’s hotel, so he held his tongue. she left. then she comes back with a complete douchebag of a fucking fiancée, set to be married at the plaza on christmas

and it’s up to sarah and ellie to stop the motherfucking wedding

for my mariatommy lovers, specifically @ameerawrites @bumblepony @clickergossip and @liveandletcry23

[royalpain16]

On November 6, 2023, Bonhams New York will auction off the engagement ring as part of the “Barbara Walters: American Icon” sale.

The 13.84-carat diamond engagement ring by Harry Winston, which Walters received from former husband Merv Adelson when he popped the question before their first wedding in 1981, will. Be included in the auction.

The design includes an emerald-cut center stone flanked by trilliant-cut diamond side stones, which weigh 1.46 carats. The auction house estimates that the rock will go for $600,000 to $900,000. Walters wore this iconic gemstone to many important events, such as an occurrence in 1985 to honor the American GI liberators of World War II at the Century Plaza Hotel in Los Angeles.

In addition to her 120-piece jewelry collection, Bonhams is also auctioning off many other items in her $8 million Upper East Side estate, including fine art and furniture. All proceeds will benefit charities that Walters supported. “Our home was always filled with interesting and beautiful reminders of her incredible, diverse life,” Walters’ daughter, Jacqueline Danforth, said. “I know she would find comfort that these pieces she cherished so much will be enjoyed and cared for.”

[goldeneyedgirl]

day 125 asking for home again please i'm begging u i don't mind if you have a new chapter an idea or just rambling randomly about this fic i'm only asking for crumbs i hope it will touch your heart

Anon, you moved me. I'm so sorry I forgot your request. I have a memory like swiss cheese.

The rewrite has temporarily stalled, only because I have four chapter fics going, three one-shots needing to be finished, and I'm plotting out Whumptober, Nanowrimo, and Ficmas. Plus I have uni work which involves planning and writing a manuscript in 2025. Soo rewrites have escaped me for the time being.

But I do have plans to add a couple of fics to that series. The next fic I was going to publish was second chronologically - Cynthia's wedding. So this takes place maybe eight weeks after Home Again, so everything is kind of new and Jasper gets to experience Alice's family nonsense and how the insanely rich live.

Other fics I was messing with in this universe (the file for these has disappeared, so I have to do a deep dive on my harddrive to see where it was filed but it's totally gone at the moment) includes Alice's father showing up in Mexico for a surprise visit at a very inopportune time; the Brandons deciding to have a pre-Christmas gathering at Alice's house so that Alice's mom can get a bunch of photos for social media; Alice and Jasper in Seattle (I mean, we need to have Maria show up at some point - I love writing Maria); plus drama around the rest of the family - Edward and Bella having a baby, Peter and Charlotte getting married, and just other wholesome nonsense.

I might also drag the OG drafts for celebrity Alice out of the archives for Ficmas because, listen, the original Vision was very different. I think there were three different versions in 24 hours, lol.

Anyway, here is some of the draft of Cynthia's Wedding/the Spectacle.

jasper.

Flowers.

That was Jasper’s first thought.

He’d never seen so many flowers in one place before.

Or ribbons.

Or people.

“Breathe.” Alice was standing beside him, looking much more at ease than he felt. She looked beautiful but almost foreign on his arm; she’d had hair and make-up people in their suite early, and had emerged with an artfully messy updo and an almost porcelain-doll appearance.

She didn’t seem entirely real, honestly.

None of this did.

They’d arrived in New York City the afternoon before and this had been the most eye-opening twenty-four hours of his life.

First of all, the chauffeur that had picked them up from the airport had swept them to one of the most expensive hotels in the city - he knew Alice had vetoed the Plaza, where Cynthia was getting married, citing a complete lack of privacy - and they had been quickly and efficiently swept up to a suite that was, frankly, nicer than his Seattle apartment. A perfectly tailored suit and Alice’s dress for the wedding had been waiting for them, along with a handwritten schedule and half a dozen floral arrangements - as well as a bottle of champagne and a ‘good luck’ note from Carmen, which made Alice snort.

There had been a dinner reservation made at the hotel restaurant with Alice’s godmother - a pinched woman who downed three martinis and left citing a need for a cigarette before they’d even received their entrees. Alice had laughed at his total bewilderment - “I’ve known her my whole life, Jas, and I’ve never seen her eat anything more substantial than a martini olive - or stay at an event longer than thirty minutes.”

The next morning, Alice had disappeared to spa treatments, hair, and makeup after breakfast, and returned to the room looking rather blank and popped two pain pills on a relatively empty stomach but had reassured him that she was fine. He’d even gone out to get her something to eat, but she’d only picked at it and blamed nerves about being in front of the camera.

And now they were at the wedding.

Alice’s dress was beautiful - dark plum lace tailored close to her body with a high neck and buttons running down her spine. The hem brushed the floor, concealing the fact that she had insisted on nearly four inch heels despite the pain they caused her. A small fortune of diamonds hung from her ears and around her wrist that Alice claimed belonged to the family trust, from a long-dead family member. The suit Carmen had arranged for him was tailored so perfectly that it was one of the most comfortable things he’d ever worn - and one of the nicest, far and away nicer than what he'd worn at his own wedding.

That made him a little nervous - first class flights to New York, the hotel room, the suit… Alice had convinced him that as her date, she was going to cover everything. He was doing her a favour, after all - Cynthia wouldn’t have allowed her to attend without a plus-one. But this whole weekend was costing more than his entire life, and that made him somewhat uncomfortable.

“This is…”

“A lot, I know.” Alice’s smile is pasted on her face, and doesn’t look quite right. “Just look like you’re happy to be here and no one will notice.”

“I’m happy to be here with you, this is just terrifying,” he murmured in her ear and for a moment, Alice’s mask dropped and she gave him a genuine, albeit bashful, smile.

The entrance had an actual red - well, gold - carpet at the entrance, against a wall of white roses. Various photographers were lined up, snapping away. It took him several moments to place a few of the other guests dotted along the carpet - models, celebrities, singers… It was surreal.

Ignoring people calling out to her, Alice carefully guided him inside the hotel.

—

The ceremony room was all gold and white, adored in hundreds of white candles, and masses of flowers in whites, pinks, and lemons. It was dizzying and oddly hypnotic, like standing in a secret garden but knowing that something wasn't quite right about it.

Gold chairs draped in silky fabric were arranged for the guests - rows and rows of them, negating Alice’s assumption that this was planned to be an intimate wedding. A white and gold bar was set up at the back of the room, where numerous people were clustered around - people Jasper had only ever seen on TV.

“You’ll be seated in the front row,” the perky attendant said, escorting them down the aisle, gesturing to two seats.

//

Securing a glass of champagne for Alice and a gin-and-tonic for himself, Jasper immediately returned to where Alice was seated - where a man was looming over her. He wearing a well-worn, rumpled suit, clutching a drink like it was a lifeline, and looked like he needed a shave and a good night's sleep. He wasn't anyone that Jasper recognised, but the way he was scrutinizing Alice made Jasper feel oddly protective of her.

"Mary, Mary," the man said in a rough voice that sounded almost mocking to Jasper's ears as he handed Alice her champagne.

“Alistair,” the fake smile is back but Alice doesn’t rise, merely nods at him. “How are you?”

Alistair, the former fiancé - a long-time associate of Alice’s father and not someone Alice has spoken of fondly. He didn’t know the details of the break up - or even the engagement - and he couldn’t bring himself to google search his own ... what? Girlfriend? Either way, it felt very disloyal to google things Alice didn't really want to talk about.

“You look better than I expected,” Alistair is frank, and is inspecting Alice like a piece of meat. “The way your family has carried on, I expected...”

"To be at death's door?" Alice offers sweetly.

"You not to be here," Alistair chuckles, before looking Jasper up and down.

//

Mr Platt is exactly what Jasper expected; an imposing man with salt and pepper hair and generic movie star looks. He doesn’t acknowledge anyone around him, firmly focused on his phone. There’s a haughty looking woman next to him in a shimmering dark blue dress and smooth red hair that Jasper suspects is his wife, even if she isn’t old enough to be Alice’s mother.

“Fourth wife, former assistant,” Alice murmurs to him from behind her champagne glass. “Mother of two daughters, and she’s very upset that neither of them were boys.”

[khaifm]

                   lalisa   manoban.     she/her.     ciswoman.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   kannika   ‘khai’   benjawan   ,   most   likely   listening   to   good   news   by   megan   thee   stallion   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   five   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -vitriolic   yet   +uninhibited   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   heart  shaped   chloé   sunglasses   on   the   end   of   her   nose   when   gossiping   ,   the   lingering   scent   of   her   perfume   long   after   she’s   gone   ,   pleated   mini   skirt   hems   brushing   high   against   plush   thighs   ,   and   soft   brown   eyes   that   make   you   fall   in   love   ,   followed   by   flowerbomb   nectar   by   viktor   &   rolf   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   taking   an   ex’s   vehicle   on   a   joyride   and   wrecking   it   after   they   cheated   on   her   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .

template   created   by   vampstuff   on   deviantart   .

                   name   :   kannika   benjawan   .   nicknames   :   khai   .   age   +   date   of   birth   :   25   +   october   29th,   1997   .   zodiac   :   scorpio   .   place   of   birth   :   bangkok   ,   thailand   .   current   residence   :   manhattan   ,   new   york   .   occupation   :   heiress   +   socialite   .   language(s)   spoken   :   english   ,   thai   ,   conversational   japanese   .   orientation   :   bisexual   and   biromantic   .   

𓏲 ·˚₊    𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

                    the   benjawan   family   ,   comprised   of   father   ,   mother   ,   and   daughter   .   a   picturesque   family   worthy   of   a   vogue   cover   (   and   has   been   achieved   )   .   worthy   of   an   oil   painting   hanging   over   a   modern   fireplace   .   her   parents   ,   both   born   into   poverty   ,   raised   in   cramped   homes   with   too   many   family   members   and   with   ambitions   that   meant   being   the   best   of   their   peers   .   prasong   finds   solace   in   working   odd   construction   jobs   and   manages   to   lang   a   job   with   the   right   developer   at   the  right   time   .   chanthara   ,   hundreds   of   miles   away   ,   finds   her   calling   in   the   brightly   lit   department   stores   ,   wishing   for   better   solutions   to   the   beauty   that’s   advertised   .   both   have   ambitions   ,   ambitions   that   are   soon   fulfilled   and   they’re   the   pride   and   joy   of   their   respective   families   .

                  after   a   change   meeting   ,   a   whirlwind   romance   and   a   modest   wedding   ,   they’re   married   .   business   is   going   well   for   the   couple   ,   building   their   respective   brands   without   ever   accepting   any   adversaries   that   come   their   way   .   chanthara’s   desire   for   people   to   feel   beautiful   expands   as   she   becomes   pregnant   with   their   only   child   and   despite   the   unplanned   nature   of   the   pregnancy   ,   the   couple   are   overjoyed   .   first   comes   love   ,   then   comes   marriage   ,   here   comes   chanthara   and   prasong   with   a   fendi   baby   carriage   .   with   the   zeroes   adding   on   in   their   bank   accounts   ,   it’s   a   move   to   manhattan   at   thirteen   years   old   when   their   daughter   comes   into   her   own   .

                  with   access   to   funds   that   seem   never   ending   ,   as   a   naturally   gifted   student   academically   ,   socially   ,   and   athletically   ,   an   affectionately   nicknamed   khai  was   the   definition   of   an   ace   .   never   —   not   once   ,   did   her   mother   have   to   tell   her   to   straighten   her   back  .   to   be   the   most   sought   after   woman   in   the   room   .   to   command   respect   .   to   quote   mrs.   benjawan   ‘   my   khai   will   never   be   second   best   .   ’   oh   ,   how   right   she   is   .   khai   never   encounters   the   word   no   ,   often   casting   longing   gazes   until   someone   fills   her   time   ,   her   glass   ,   her   bed   with   their   presence   .   she   floats   on   a   cloud   reserved   for   herself   ,   silently   demanding   a   spectator’s   attention   as   if   a   princess   has   emerged   from   her   castle   .   have   you   heard   of   the   curse   ?

                   who   is   to   be   a   benjawan   without   experiencing   a   lapse   in   perception   ?   to   suddenly   have   a   fall   from   grace   that   has   you   spiraling   and   afraid   .   love   had   never   been   in   her   vocabulary   until   her   final   year   at   her   prestigious   high   school   .   it’s   whirlwind   ,   uttering   those   three   little   words   before   the   fourth   date   and   sharing   strawberry   milkshakes   at   the   plaza   hotel   .   three   months   in   and   like  a   scene   straight   out   of   your   favorite   horror   film   ,   melted   butter   pecan   ice   cream   drips   from   her   waffle   cone   and   down   her   knuckles   as   she   witnesses   her   first   love   love   another   woman   .   ‘   my   khai   will   never   be   second   best   .   ’   her   mother   echoes   .   she   vows   then   to   seduce   and   destroy   .   to   never   let   herself   be   vulnerable   (   let   alone   to   a   man   )   ever   again   .

𓏲 ·˚₊    𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘.

                    best   described   as   an   independent   woman   ,   as   the   better   version   of   a   popular   television   teen   who   thrives   on   manipulation   and   elitism   .   gets   what   she   wants   with   the   point   of   a   finger   and   the   bat   of   a   lash   .   has   a   strong   interest   in   people   .   jealousy   is   a   bitch   ,   but   they’re   best   friends   .   finds   comfort   in   the   swipe   of   another’s   credit   card  and  the   freedom   of   freeing   herself   from   their   sheets   before   her   spot   in   the  bed   has  a   chance   to   warm   .   would   easily   be   cast   in   a   theatre   production   if   her   theatrics   were   reserved   for   the   sage   and   if   there   were   tears   ,   she   wishes   for   them   to   be   diamonds   .

                  easily   burns   bridges   as   if   holding   the   match   .  ��don’t   start   a   habit   of   telling   her   no   and   gets   strangely   horny   for  confrontation   .   will   back   you   up   in   a   fight   even   if   you’re   wrong   ,   finds   pleasure   in   seeing   a   face   turn   red   and   will   never   hide   her   disgust   for   anyone   .   is   genuine   in   her   speech   and   has   facial   expressions   that   speak   before   she   opens   her   mouth   .   an   ice   cold   demeanor   that   has   been   completely   impenetrable   for   the   ghosts   of   a   lover’s   past   and   plans   to   keep   it   that   way   .

𓏲 ·˚₊    𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

follow  this  link  here  !

[buzzbuzzwhs]

Or forever hold your peace (A YellowJackets Taivan fic)

2004

Back when she lived with her mother in New Jersey, the TV had a wire coat hanger as an antenna. Once, the Saturday afternoon, the movie of the week was “The Graduate.”  Benjamin and Elaine running towards freedom, away from Elaine’s wedding, captivated young Van Palmer.

Freedom, was what Van wanted. Freedom wasn’t those 19 months her brain blocked out. Freedom had come as Oberlin offering her a scholarship. She’d gotten a degree in film, and had taken over ownership of the small video rental store in town. 

But Benjamin and Elaine didn’t know what they were doing, and Van was no Benjamin. If she was, she wouldn’t be mopping the floor of the store, she would be at the Plaza Hotel in New York City. She’d be yelling at them to stop, because Tai Turner was marrying Simone, and not her. 

She’d received the classily engraved invitation, inviting her to come. Shauna had encouraged her to go—she’d been asked to be a bridesmaid but had declined owing to pregnancy. Van was not asked to be a bridesmaid. The RSVP card had been for “Miss Vanessa  Palmer and guest. Van had thought, briefly, about inviting one of her employees as her guest. 

She’d declined because she couldn’t do it. Shauna had posted about the rehearsal dinner on LiveJournal. Shauna, being one of the few sober ones, spoke about how she liked Simone and how two of Tai’s AKA sisters from Yale, Avril and Rasheeda, were lovely. Akilah was there, and a red-eyed photo of the three survivors dotted the post.

Shauna’s role in the rehearsal dinner was to read the recent ruling out of Massachusetts, Goodridge v. Department of Public Health. It was a somber reminder that no meat carving station or the strapless Priscilla of Boston dress Tai would wear the next day could dress up the reality that Tai and Simone’s wedding had no legal protection to back it up in New York, or New Jersey.

The post had a photo that Akilah had taken on her camera phone—showing Shauna standing up at the Russian Tea Room, wearing a black dress that fit as well as a trash bag, her hair flat-ironed stick straight and hanging to her bra strap. Shauna closed the entry with a joke about how she didn’t know why a lawyer would pick someone who managed to fail the semester she spent at the County community college and the semester she’d spent a year later at Providence College to read a legal brief.

There was a photo Jeff took, of Simone glowing as Shauna quoted the passage “Here, the plaintiffs seek only to be married, not to undermine the institution of civil marriage. They do not want marriage abolished. They do not attack the binary nature of marriage, the consanguinity provisions, or any of the other gate-keeping provisions of the marriage licensing law. Recognizing the right of an individual to marry a person of the same sex will not diminish the validity or dignity of opposite-sex marriage, any more than recognizing the right of an individual to marry a person of a different race devalues the marriage of a person who marries someone of her own race. If anything, extending civil marriage to same-sex couples reinforces the importance of marriage to individuals and communities.”

Tai, meanwhile, looked as if she was ready to destroy everything:  from the sewn-in curls at the top of her head to the pink and black minidress and choker she wore. 

Van’s watch said it would be 4pm that evening in New York, meaning that her time to speak now had passed. 

Van opened a drawer she rarely opened. There were several mementos of her youth, but she looked at three:  a pretzel Christmas tree ornament, a strip of photo booth photos from FAO Schwartz, and a lock of hair. 

1998-2002

Once they were rescued and ok’d, Tai enrolled at Yale. She had been planning on Spellman, but she didn’t want to get on a plane. She joined AKA and became a proud soror. 

Van had jumped at the chance to enroll at Oberlin with her scholarship. This also meant that she was flying Newark to Cleveland and back regularly. She checked on her mother, and then rode to see Tai in New Haven. They’d take the Metro into New York. They got their carriage ride. Tai got her soft pretzel, and bought Van a Christmas tree ornament to commemorate it. They saw Rent twice. 

Both women graduated from college. Tai immediately enrolled at Columbia Law School. Van had decided to take a year off before film school. She was a manager at the video store now. 

The weekend it happened, Van had been in New York to interview for film schools. She looked handsome in  a neat tie and vest with a Brooks Brothers button-down Tai had gotten her for college graduation.She’d gotten into the habit of blowing her hair straight, and it now came to the small of her back. She bobby-pinned the sides back. The raw nudity of showing her scars lost to her mother’s voice in her head telling her to get her hair out of her face. 

The interviews went well. She and Tai celebrated by getting photos taken in a booth at FAO Schwartz. 

The next morning, Van sat in Tai’s apartment. Van had just cooked them breakfast. 

“I mean, if I get in it, we could get a place near here together, and I could commute to school,” Van said. 

“I got the summer associateship at that Big Law firm,” Tai said. There was a pregnant pause. 

“Of course you did!”  Van smiled encouragingly.

“Yeah. I’ll be in the whirlwind world of being wooed by the firm to join them post-grad,” Tai drew a breath. “Van, those associates have events for significant others. The people who go to those events…they’re not from a trailer park.  I’m sorry. I can’t do this any more.”

Van ran out of the building. She still packed things in a WHS duffle bag. She emotionlessly put in in the overhead bin.

For two weeks, Van continued to work. She powered herself on Mountain Dew and Popov. She barely slept. She didn’t shower, and her hair was in a bun of neglect. She didn’t cry or laugh. The college students with whom she worked stopped asking about her trip. 

“Sarah came in today,” Van said to her employee Jenna after they closed one night. “I barely recognized her. She said you cut her hair short—that you’re your dorm’s barber.”  Jenna felt Van lock her eyes on hers as she slid a pair of scissors towards her. 

“Are you sure?” Jenna asked, undoing the bun and running her fingers through Van’s hair. Van nodded as Jenna carefully guided her to an office chair. Van had survived fire and a wolf attack, but the icy scissors on her neck were harshest thing she ever felt. Jenna paused, holding the severed years of hair in her fist. 

“That girl you had in New York?  She was into long hair, wasn’t she?”

Van stared at the familiar waves, plopped in a garbage can. In her mind she felt Tai playing with her hair. Van shook her head—startled as her shoulders didn’t stop her hair. It had been her security blanket so long. 

“When we first met, my friend and I had just gotten bobs for freshman year. I hated it. I just—I don’t want the memories around.”

Jenna stood in front of her, grasping a thick forelock and snipping them off. She offered the strands to Van. Van accepted them, as she slowly realized that Jenna had cut thick bangs that masked her scars. As red hair rained onto the floor, hot tears finally began to silently rain down Van’s cheeks. 

“You’re so pretty,” Jenna said, more referencing her handiwork than Van.  Van looked at the face staring at her back from Jenna’s compact mirror. The bangs drew attention to her tear-swollen eyes. The rest was soft and messy, hitting her lips. “You’re always wearing those button=downs, and I figured you didn’t want your hair in their way,”  Jenna fixed a curl that framed one of Van’s scars.

It seemed like every student who came into the store had to comment on her hair. Apparently it was “hot,” “cute,” and “you have really pretty eyes.” Van never sent in her grad school apps. Why do that, if all you get was knowing you lived in the same island as Ms. Taissa Turner, 2L and gunner. As the snow melted, an email popped up in Van’s inbox. 

FYI

I was in the city with Tai yesterday. She met this girl named Simone. She’s moving in soon. I just thought you’d want to hear. 

Shauna

PS—Have you heard from anyone?

[theroyalsims]

BREAKING: GUS, ANYA MAKE (SEPARATE) FINAL APPEARANCES BEFORE TOMORROW'S ROYAL WEDDING

Our favourite soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. gave their loyal fans and adoring public one final wave before they say their I do's!

Tomorrow's the big day, and as is tradition, our lovebirds spent the night apart.

Gus was seen arriving at the Brindleton Plaza Royale Hotel with his family in tow. Dressed in a low-key blue jumper and black slacks, Anya's future husband looked happy and, dare we say, calm, considering what a huge deal tomorrow will be for him!

His Royal Highness (that's right... he now has an HRH thanks to Her Majesty) had a blink-and-you'll-miss-it arrival, but he did manage to give the press and the crowd gathered outside the hotel a small wave and a smile - which was met with loud cheers!

Anya, meanwhile, had a very brief photocall after she arrived at the Palace, where she will be spending the night. Her Royal Highness was joined by her mother, The Queen, and her father, Prince Jacques at the Palace's north wing entrance.

The visibly blooming Crown Princess looked beautiful in a form-fitting white lace dress, which she paired with low-heeled slingbacks.

Speaking of dresses, we're so excited to see Anya's dress tomorrow! We're also looking forward to seeing which tiara she chose for her big day!

Let the countdown begin!

[hitchell-mope]

Hypothetical titles for season fifteen of 88

Hudson hospital. Season premiere. Part one. Tragedy strikes when the Five Families of New York are invited to a gala at New York’s only fully hydroelectrically run hospital.

H2oh no. Season premiere. Part two. Captain Birch’s team work to hunt down the hackers while the Council tries to evacuate the hospital before any lives are lost.

Benefits. Jacob helps an elderly apartment tenant sort out his rights. Meanwhile. Zoey Anne struggles with her FWB who wants more out of their relationship. Guest starring Steve Carell. First appearance of Logan Lerman as Ethan Baum

The food chain. Drummond has to explain Satyr eating habits to his parents when Lysander Wilkins’s half pixie girlfriend arrives from England. First appearance of Millie Bobby Brown as Lady Justine Downey

The spectre of the ballet. Donovan reports a multiple homicide at a ballet school he frequently haunts.

Riot. A visit to Arizona state penitentiary turns violent for Drummond and stowaway Tina. Guest starring Asher Angel as Gerald Gauthier and John Krasinski as Warden Sommers

Shave and a haircut. Part one. Due to a highly preventable clerical oversight, Sweeney Todd has escaped Hell, which puts Leland Mulligan, who’s the head of the Supreme Court and has the middle name Turpin, in mortal danger. Guest starring Arthur Darvill as Sweeney Todd

Two bits. Part two. Thornton and Andy hunt down Todd as Leland starts climbing the walls in witness protection

Hotel unions. Jacob refuses to represent a hotelier who wants to break up an employee strike

Jury. Findlay is elected foreman of the jury on a case of third degree murder.

Stop lights. Thornton’s team investigates when a college senior accuses a freshman of raping him at a stop light party

ACS&Associates. Midseason finale. Part one. Jacob is offered a surprise promotion at Constance Bradley’s retirement party.

ACS&Associates. Midseason premier. Part two. Jacob weighs his options as Constance prepares to leave the firm for the last time. Final appearance of Ming Na Wen as Constance Bradley.

Zealots. Findlay and Sidney serve as witnesses on a case of racially motivated police brutality perpetrated by the late Irma Cahill’s daughter while Thornton and Jones desperately try and fail to prevent Carrie Hislop from sinking her claws into the situation. Guest starring Leven Rambin as Imogen Cahill.

My turn now. Part one. Incensed at how the Morris family was treated by Hislop. Findlay, accompanied by Winifred, Skipper, Lilith, Barnaby and Jonah, decides to go on the Hislop Hour one last time to bring down the crooked, conservative, talk show once and for all.

Your hour is up. Part two. Thanks to Findlay commandeering her talk show. Carrie Hislop is now connected to a string of suicides up and down the state. And Findlay’s going to make absolutely sure that the charges stick. Final appearance of Julia Louis Dreyfus as Carrie Hislop.

Vacation. Not knowing that Oswald’s father had recently hired Chambers as a ranch hand, the Five Families head to Oswald’s family’s holiday horse ranch in Alberta Canada to destress after taking down Hislop. Guest starring Donal Logue as Osmond Chatwin

A satyrs odyssey. Drummond wakes up as Captain of the Starship Enterprise. And it’s all Jonah’s fault.

Family strife. Part one. Findlay has offered to host the wedding of Aimee Davenport and Rani Burton. Much to the chagrin of Marilyn Davenport. Guest starring Dev Patel, Naomi Scott, Rhianne Barreto, Meera Syal, Miranda Hart, Dani Harmer, Chris Pratt, Aubrey Plaza, Bruce Campbell, Sally Field and Auli’i Cravalho.

Vows. Part two. Skipper plays mediator to Mrs Davenport and the queen mother while Findlay coaches Aimee through some cold feet.

Little England. Drummond intervenes when Findlay contemplates moving to a borough of New York that models itself on Great Britain.

Say yes to distress. Odessa has decided that she wants to be presented as a debutante. There’s just one problem. Her fathers can’t agree on what style of dress she should buy.

Debutante. Season finale. Part one. Drummond and Lysander wake up in a hotel in New Jersey, double tagged and with no memory of the night before. With four hours to go before Odessa and Tina make their debut.

Presentation. Season finale. Part two. Drummond and Lysander have made it and the debutante presentation is underway. And Barnaby has something to discuss with Lucia that is bound to cause Findlay a lot of emotional pain. Final appearance of Julian Hilliard as Barnaby and Jonah Sullivan.