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noira-l · 2 months

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Just the Two of Us

chapter summary: there is nothing like arguing with your pretend ‘husband’, right?

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

wc: 2,9k

warnings: swearing, argument, adult life is kinda hard, higher-ups are fools, angst from Megumi, mature themes, slight mentioning of sexual activity, spoilers (manga, anime, movie).

author's note: well, we began here. I hope you like it, and I can write you more. I'm still experimenting with style, and genre, so please be understanding. You're welcome to leave some notes and comments to help me grow :3 I would appriciate it.

s.masterlist

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 '𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡'

You used to love summer.

Beautiful weather, long bike rides through the unknown corners of Tokyo, trips to arcades with Suguru, the beach with Shoko and Utahime. Just the good old days.

Now you hate summer.

You feel like a curse has fallen on every summer, starting with the star plassma vessel incident. All the worst things that are supposed to happend, happen in the summer.

And this summer was no exception.

Tsumiki, whose condition no one was able to recognise.

Megumi, who, due to her sister's situation and the stress of his lack of fully mastered powers, made him even more grumpy than ever.

And Satoru.

Oh fuck Satoru

You've never seen him so pissed off, higher-ups have never been kind to you, you've always known that. You've seen it yourself many times. But now? Suddenly now they have a problem with Megumi attending Jujutsu High?

The number of your visits to them has increased dramatically, which has only contributed to constant bickering over really unimportant trifles or hiding grudges where there were none. Your home turned into a veritable minefield filled with anger and bitterness. And every day you wondered what you were going to step on this time.

You knew that if things didn't improve, all those wounds and worries would seep deep into each of you, and you didn't want that.

Even though your marriage only existed on paper, you genuinely genuinely cared for him. And he cared for you.

After Suguru left you didn't think anyone would be able to understand what you were feeling, Satoru proved you otherwise. You were both experiencing the same thing, it brought you together in a way, enough to open up between you and form an alliance of sorts that no matter what fate brought your way, you would deal with it together.

The foundations of a perfect marriage? You laughed under your breath. If this marriage was still made for purposes other than convenience in paperwork and ease of custody. You have never had a wedding, you don't even wear rings, you don't even act like a couple. You are both just good friends who grew up to become good parents. Always complementing each other. At least you tried.

The beginnings were difficult, that's a fact, you were both still young at the time, you didn't know how to do certain things, and raising 2 children was never part of the Jujutsu High education programme.

When you graduated, you both left school with broken hearts, old hurts and the hope that your dream of a better future for the young would become a reality. There was almost no talk of romantic feelings.

Almost.

On the day of your fifth wedding anniversary, out of boredom and slight compulsion, because you should at least celebrate the round anniversaries of your arrangement, you opened the sake that Nanamin had bought you for your first anniversary. As a conpensation for saving him from death on that day, which was technically supposed to be free for you. Both of you ended up on the couch, after drinking the entire bottle, fucking like the horny teenagers you still were somewhere deep inside. Satoru never had a strong head. Both of you, in the morning after a strong moral and general hangover, decided that it was better not to return to this situation and just forget about it. As far as this situation can be called a romantic feeling. Although you wouldn't call it that.

Satoru did not know the concept of personal space. And everyone who knew him was able to confirm this. Interestingly, you were the only one who was able to get close to his real personal space. Sleeping in the same bed with you for so many years, he had learned to reflexively switch off his infinity and cuddle with you in his sleep. At first the single bed was because you couldn't afford more than one, Satoru wasn't yet the head of the clan at the time and thus didn't have access to this sizeable fortune. Over time you just got used to it and the idea of sleeping separately seemed strange to you.

You caught yourself dreaming of a bed and his warm arms after another hard mission. You know he had the same thoughts coming really late at night, just to undress himself, and hug into you.

You both crawled into your routines. You've built what you dare to call 'home' on these foundations.

It was not perfect, the life of a jujutsu sorcerer was never strewn with roses or easy decisions but this 'home' was yours. You knew it along with him. And you were proud of what you had achieved together.

You didn't want all that had been built up with your hard work to be undone by one really hard summer. You didn't yet know how you were going to resolve the situation and how to talk to Satoru about it, but one thing you were sure of - you weren't going to give up.

There really is something wrong with this time of year, you sighed as you entered the flat you were renting.

"I'm back." you said rather loudly, you knew Megumi should be home at this hour. You went to the kitchen, put away the shopping nets you had made earlier and began to arrange the goods you had bought, leaving only what would serve for tonight's dinner. You took a small box of strawberry mochi out of the nets, you knew they had been going around Satoru's head lately. You placed them on the kitchen counter, adding a small heart sticker. For some strange reason, everyone in the household liked how you added those colourful stickers, even Megumi loved them, though he wouldn't admit it like Tsumiki did.

My little Tsumiki.

You were angry with yourself, unable to recognise what had actually happened to her and why it had happened so suddenly. You were angry that no one could recognise it. The amount of time you spent guessing, trying to recognise and the trial and error method, exceeded the numbers you knew. You tried, but it wasn't enough. You blamed yourself in advance for not defending her against it.

"What's for dinner today? I'm starving honestly~" you heard a voice behind you and turned around.

"Oh, Satoru, I wasn't expecting you so early. How was the mission?" you had already started preparing today's dinner. Satoru sat down at the kitchen island, not far from you.

"Can we not talk about this shit?" he sighed playing with some dark-haired boy's pencil.

oh…it's bad, isn't it?

"We can." you replied trying to think of something quick to talk to him about. "I bought you something." you pointed towards a small box. The white-haired man just glanced in that direction and a smile dawned on that face again.

"Aww~ Is that for me?" he reached for the casket with his long hand and opened the lid. "Did I mention you're the best wife in the world?" his giggle would be heard from down the street.

Of course Satoru loved sweets, especially the ones you bought him, because you always took care when choosing them, not buying just anything, but really what he liked.

"Sometimes you mention it to me." you said, throwing all the ingredients into the pans.

"I should to it more often then," he said with his mouth stuffed with one of the mochi. The sight of his satisfied face really filled you with small happiness.

"Where's Megumi?" you asked while stirring the contents of the pan.

The strongest merely sighed.

"I asked you to avoid difficult topics" his face was again filled with another mochi from the box.

You walked over to him and took the box from him.

"Why? You're so cruel, you know?" he merely asked pouting at the sight of you taking his joy.

"You'll get the rest of the packaging, after the meal." you stressed, and he continued to pout. You put the box back in the cupboard

"So, where's Megumi?" you asked a second time, pressing for him to answer you.

"You know how young people are today, they just leave without asking, without saying anything to anyone" now your sigh was overwhelming.

"You two had a fight, didn't you?"

"Ayay, I wouldn't call it a fight, more of a youthful rebellion on his part, you've been seeing this kind of behaviour more and more lately. You know, he's maturing. Aren't you proud?" you grabbed your temples where am I going to find him now?

"And how long ago he went to his…" you looked at him seriously "…'youthful rebellion'?"

Satoru glanced at his watch "Hmm…. Like 3 hours ago?" your eyes were the size of coins "But I'm not sure." he added in wonderment

You're going crazy here.

"And you allowed him to have these rebelions at this hour?" Satoru merely shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you mean, if he wants to go out then let him go out, he is capable of defending himself, after all he has unlocked to some extent his powers-"

"But not as much as we would like" you sighed "not as much as he would like." you vigorously stirred the contents of the pan, trying to pour all your anger into it so that it wouldn't accidentally be shown in words.

"You're being dramatic, it's only true to a certain extent. He has more potential than anyone else so far, I believe in him…. Which doesn't mean he's not a little weak right now." you froze, stopping the wooden spoon you used to turn things in the pan. Your own memories flowed into your head like water.

He had said something like that to you too. When you were still in high school, he could, like a complete asshole, ridicule you for hours and hours, about how you had no powers at all and were weak. You always ended up then in Suguru's arms, who was probably the only one who seemed to know what you were up against in those moments.

As it turned out, his derision found no cover in reality when one morning, after Suguru had left and after your arrangements had been made, you flashed the same eyes at him that he has, explaining to him why he could not use his techniques at that moment. The shock and disbelief that appeared on his face was payment enough, for the lack of apology on his part (for which you are still slightly angry) and for all the mockery you have bravely endured over the years.

You know what it's like to feel weak. You know what it's like when no one believes in you, when you yourself want to give up on yourself, trying to convince yourself that what everyone around you is saying is not true. You know how much hardship and effort goes into not just training, but convincing yourself that you are worth something. You don't want Megumi to ever experience the same sense of powerlessness that you had to endure. Especially not from the same person you had to endure it from.

"Did you tell him that?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him, trying to control yourself.

"What?" he asked still playing with the pencil in his hand.

"That he's weak." you must have said it really threateningly because Satoru's face immediately changed expression, you were able to see it right away despite his bandages.

"I didn't necessarily use those words." he said moving his gaze from your face to the pencil.

You took the frying pan off the fire and gave the pot of water in its place.

You sighed gathering in yourself not to do anything stupid today, although he really asked for it.

"You can't spill such words right and left. Not you in particular. " you said it as calmly as you could, turning towards him.

"I don't see the problem. I told the truth, besides I also stated the fact that he has potenc-"

"Of course everyone for you is weak, Gojo" he knew that when you addressed him by his last name, something was wrong or he fucked something up. "Which doesn't mean that everyone wants to hear about this fact. Do you realize what he's going through?" you asked the question into the ether, after a second adding "Well, yes, of course you don't, you've always been the strongest after all." The stupidity of your statement was killing you. You were able to understand his lack of competence in identifying with those weaker than himself, what you were not able to accept was how he was flaunting it.

"You are not weak." he said this while looking at you intensely.

"And after how long did you find that out? You oppressed me for years. It only changed when I showed you my technique." why do you sound disappointed?

Satoru would be lying if he said that his respect and view of you did not change after you showed him your powers.

"You know the higher-ups don't want to think about letting him go to school, and I don't understand why at this point in time you have to conclude that he is weak."

"Just not this topic, again~ We were already at such a family atmosphere." White-haired growled sighing, squirming in his chair

"What do you mean, I was the one who had to defend him from them again today-" you crossed your arms

"You talk as if I didn't do it myself yesterday" he growled, his voice rising "They keep sending me like an errand dog, on every fucked up mission they can think of, and I do it all without a moment's rest. Today I refused to meet with them, I'm shirking everything I can. I'm sick of listening to old idiots who care about rules that have long since ceased to apply. And! Of course the Zen'in clan has a problem with everything."

"As if your clan was so conciliatory.." you snarked with a wince.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he indignantly replied.

"I met your mother today and she made it clear that she was 'expecting a grandchild' " you turned quickly to throw things into the pot of boiling water, you could see Satoru grabbing his head "She stated that 'it's my duty as your spouse', it's enough for her that she covered herself in shame when our secret wedding came to light. It surprises me that she is eager to make such statements, not being the head of the clan and still having a problem about what was almost eight years ago."

"Don't worry about it, I'll call her out." Satoru sighed. Despite the fact that you were standing with your back to him now, you could feel his gaze on you.

You needed a break. A break from the curses, the higher-ups, the arguments and the flurry of responsibilities. You knew Satoru needed one too. You stood there in thought, leaning against the countertop and looking at the pot with its boiling contents, when unexpectedly you felt a touch on your waist.

You looked up to see his silhouette pressed against your back. "I'm not the best at words or expressing feelings, as you've become familiar with more than once.." he laid his head on your shoulder "but I don't want you to feel like shit, these last few weeks are probably making you tired too."

Gojo was known for not respecting other people's personal space, this time he used it in a good way. You turned to him and snuggled into his warm torso. He held you in his arms for a few moments, stroking your hair and inhaling the scent of your perfume that he, himself had bought you for Christmas. He casually turned off the cooker, when he decided that what you had thrown into the pot, had cooked.

You didn't even know you needed it. His uniform completely smelled of him, despite the fact that you picked it up from the laundry literally yesterday.

It's funny how much his smell started to be associated with safety for you. Maybe it was because of that one mission where he held you the whole time in his arms when you almost died, or maybe it was just out of habit and years spent with him. You'd swear, you could fall asleep here and forget all your worries.

The sound of your burbling stomach snapped you out of this bliss. You looked at each other, you with an embarrassed face and he with an amused smile.

"It's going to be all right, we'll work something out, as always." he said, kissing you on the forehead. You didn't expect such a gesture from him. He guessed it from your face as he took his hands off your waist, moving away from you and putting his hands back, this time on your shoulders.

"Now let's eat something, you're not the only one who's starving." he said then turned on his heel and headed to his previously occupied seat.

"Find Megumi first, then you'll get your portion." you said and he snorted with laughter "Are you ordering me around?" that smile of his lead you to many things.

"No, I'm giving you a challenge, if you find him quickly your dinner won't get cold." you waved your spoon at him lightly.

His smile only deepened "I can take orders like that every day~" he said then immediately disappeared behind the wall, leaving you alone.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #gojo x reader #fluff #tsumiki fushiguro #satoru gojō x reader #masterlist #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #years to come #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo

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whispersoftheton · 1 year

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This idea has been on my mind for a while… Anthony seeing you in the bridgerton blues for the first time, can either be smut or fluff :) thanks

Ahhhh I love this so much, thank you for sending it in! :)

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing, fluff, smut, p in v

Word Count: 1.2K

The family gathered around the room on another sweltering summer day. Hyacinth and Gregory bickered over yet another sworn tie in their endless chess matches while Eloise quietly read her book in the opposite corner. Anthony sat between his brothers, Benedict telling him of his endless tales from class among the unspoken soirees he discreetly attended from time to time and Colin of his many travels. Anthony found himself growing bored, awaiting your arrival. You were to accompany him and the rest of the Bridgertons to the races this afternoon, as it would be your first outing as a family since your marriage to the Viscount. And he could not bear to listen to another one of Benedict's tales for one more second; he needed to see you.

"Mother." Anthony stood hurriedly from the gold-trimmed sofa to approach Lady Bridgerton as she entered the room. "Where is she?"

"Now, calm down, Anthony; she is nearly ready." Lady Birdgerton assured him while straightening out his neckline to perfection. She knew Anthony's antics well enough by now to understand his growing impatience was only a product of his theatrics.

"I feel as though I have been waiting an eternity. Surely she must-" Anthony made his way past his mother and into the hallway, his words stammered as soon as his eyes landed on you. You'd been making your way to the main room when he appeared in your path, a smile gracing both your lips. There was no word in the English language to describe how beautiful you looked. The most impeccable dress draped over every curve in a more delicate shade of blue than he wore but complimented his outerwear perfectly. Warmth blossomed in Anthony’s chest at the sight of you in that color. His color. He never thought he'd see the day when the one he loved, the one his heart eternally yearned for, would wear the color that meant so much to him and his family. He would never tire of how easily you overpowered him whenever he was in your presence.

"Do I look alright?" You nervously patted your skirt, ensuring everything was as it should be. Hesitation apparent in your tone as you approached him.

"Alright?" Anthony's eyes widened as he took your hands in his. He couldn't believe you would use a modest word such as 'alright' to describe how exquisite you looked right now. "My love, you look…absolutely stunning. Beyond words, truly." Heat filled your face, and your stomach fluttered at his flattery. Anthony had a way of making you feel as though you two were the only person on the face of the earth, easily melting under his gaze. It was an exquisite feeling you wished to relish in forever. Anthony glanced around and took advantage of the privacy to steal a kiss. His lips were warm and soft against your own. They parted slightly, allowing you to move more passionately as your hunger for one another became apparent in mere seconds. It shouldn't be surprising, seeing as you and your husband could hardly keep your hands off each other since your wedding night. The moment grew heated with every swipe of his tongue, hands caressing the soft flesh of your waist and hips hidden beneath the restricting fabric of your dress.

"Mother!" Anthony reluctantly pulled away, panting, and shouted. "Go ahead without us. We will join you shortly, as promised." Without so much as a second thought or a response from anyone, he whisked you away toward a nearby closet in a closed-off hallway he was sure no one wandered by.

"Anthony, what are you doing? The races are starting soon." You protested before he cut you off with another chaste kiss and shut the door behind him.

"We will join them in a moment. I must have you right now." The passion flowed through his words, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation and a chuckle escape you. He pulled you close, continuing his ministrations. His lips scattered kisses along your neckline and down to your chest as your hands tangled in his hair. His hands worked tirelessly to remove as many barriers between your bodies as quickly as possible as he gently guided you to lean on the wall behind you. Your dress was bunched up toward you as Anthony hastily removed his trousers just to his upper thigh. You panted under him, his lips never leaving your skin, leaving a trail of marks and bruises as a reminder of his love for you.

"Seeing you in our family color," Anthony spoke between kisses. "You are so beautiful." He was rambling as he often did when he was this worked up. The way you looked, how your body responded to his every touch. Every beautiful sound he was able to pull from you, it drove him mad. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to have you now. Anthony abruptly lifted and pressed you against the wall, your fingers tugging at his hair and desperately nipping at his lower lip, pulling an animalistic groan from his chest.

"Anthony, please." You practically whimpered when you felt his cock prod at your entrance, clenching around nothing as the tip slid over your sensitive clit. He lined himself up and pressed his lips against yours to swallow any sounds you made as he gently pushed inside you. You moaned into each other in unison, and he waited, letting you settle as you nodded for him to move. Anthony began to plunge into you, easily slipping through your folds, feeling your warm cunt swallow him whole. He cupped your breast over the fabric of your dress, kneading it in his hands while breathing heavily as he bottomed out inside of you, holding you there for a moment, reveling in how impossibly soft and warm you felt around him as low whimpers escaped you.

A low grunt rumbled from his chest when he felt you fluttering around him. His hand outlined from the swell of your breasts all the way down beneath your hips, memorizing every curve, feeling the way your chest was rising and falling with every breath of pleasure that surged through you; even the way your hips instinctively moved to meet his own drove him insane. Anthony craved and wanted nothing more than to be close to you; even being inside you now, it was never close enough for him. He began to stroke your clit, already aching for attention. Your bodies rocked in sync with one another, desperate for relief. Anthony felt you whine quietly as your orgasm crashed into you. Waves of heat overwhelmed your body as you pulsed on his cock, pulling Anthony to spill himself inside of you.

Anthony pulled away from you after a moment of stolen kisses and delicate touches. He made sure you were settled on the ground and took the time to adjust himself. Moving quickly to assist you in fixing your dress and ensuring everything else was in order before opening the door to confirm no one was outside and stepping out of the closet. You may have missed the race's first leg, but with the knowing smirks and blissed-out looks on both your faces, it was well worth it.

Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 (let me know if you would like to added here or dm me if you’d like to be removed)

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton angst #bridgerton netflix #lady bridgerton #viscount bridgerton

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piastrisun · 6 days

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let me go.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader.

summary: when love becomes a battleground of dreams and unfulfilled desires, sometimes letting go is the only way to find yourself.

genre: angst.

word count: 2.6k.

warning: none.

notes: inspired by s1, ep22 of how i met your mother, ‘come on’. no use of y/n or any names at all. enjoy !! (maybe you won’t).

charles is at the desk you two share in your office, casually typing on the laptop you both share from time to time, when his face tightens in confusion. his eyes scan the screen, eyebrows furrowing as he scrolls through an email. the realization hits him like a wave. your name is in the subject line, followed by the words ‘congratulations’ and ‘art program.’ his heart pounds as he reads further: three months, starting this summer, in new york.

you, unaware of the storm about to hit, stand in the kitchen. the hum of the kettle rising to a boil fills the air, and you mindlessly pour yourself a cup of coffee. your fingers absently trace the rim of the cup, lost in thought. you don’t notice him stand up, the air between you shifting with tension.

“did you apply to an art program? in new york?” his voice is controlled, but you can feel the edge to it, like he's trying to stay calm.

you freeze, the water nearly spilling over the rim of the cup. turning slowly, you meet his gaze. “i just wanted to see if i’d get in, that’s all. i wasn’t going to go.”

he shakes his head, pacing towards you. “but... in new york?” his tone is incredulous, staring straight at you.

“i wasn’t going to take it, anyway,” you respond quickly, the words rushing out, as if saying them fast enough will make them true. you set the cup down on the counter, the clink of ceramic sounding louder than it should.

he takes a step closer, voice softening. “that’s always been your dream, and you’re not taking it, mhm.”

“but there’s a lot of things i’ve wanted to do… and i haven’t done any of them, so” you reply, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as if grounding yourself.

his eyes search yours, frustration laced in his next words. “and now? you decide to do it now? with everything we have lined up in the future? we’re about to get married.” his voice lowers, pausing for a moment. “no, you can’t.”

the mention of the wedding makes your chest tighten, a wave of guilt creeping in. “are you forbidding me from going?” your voice is calm, but the hurt is beginning to break through the surface.

he rubs his hand over his face, exasperation clear in his posture. “i never said that,” he mutters, pacing a little, his footsteps heavy on the floor. “but i don’t know, we have a wedding in a few weeks, and i was hoping you would be free that day."

silence stretches between you, the weight of his words sinking in. you feel the heaviness in your chest, like you're stuck between what you owe yourself and what you owe him. finally, you look up, your voice steady. “i’m not asking you to understand. or to be happy about it. i’m just asking for your support.”

his gaze sharpens, and he shakes his head again, frustration mounting. “support you? how can i support you when it feels like i’m losing you?”

your heart skips a beat, and for a second, you’re unsure of how to respond. “you’re not losing me,” you say quietly, but there’s a tremor in your voice, betraying the uncertainty you feel. “i’m still here.”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running his hands through his hair. “you’re still here? you’ve been accepted into a program in new york, for three months. that’s a whole summer. and you didn’t even tell me. you applied without saying a word.”

you bite your lip, guilt flooding through you. “i didn’t want to say anything because i told you, i wasn’t planning on taking it.”

he looks at you incredulously. “then why apply? why even put yourself through the process if you weren’t going to follow through?”

you look away, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you. “i don’t know. maybe i wanted to see if i was still good enough. if i could still be the person i used to be.”

“the person you used to be?” he repeats, his tone a little softer now, but still confused.

you rub your arms, trying to ease the tension in your muscles. “it means... i feel like i’ve built my life around you. around what we’ve built together. i haven’t chased any of the dreams i had when we first met.”

“i never stood in your way,” he counters, his voice quieter now, almost pleading for you to see things from his side.

you take a deep breath, the truth burning on your tongue. “i know. but i’ve settled for the fact that we have a home, and that i got a stable job—one that’s almost mediocre. it sucks, but that’s what i’ve been going through.”

his brow furrows, his voice strained. “i want to understand. i swear i want to understand. but i don’t.”

your throat tightens. you remember the younger version of yourself, eighteen and full of hopes. “do you remember when we met? i wanted to travel the world, study in different countries, learn everything i could. i wanted to be someone, charles. i haven’t been able to be that person anymore.”

“i love you, no matter what. you know that, right? i’ve always loved you.” his hand finds yours, holding it tightly.

you pull your hand away gently, shaking your head. “it’s not about that. i know you love me. i just— i don’t love myself. and i hate that i haven’t done anything for me.”

the silence is crushing until he speaks, his voice small, vulnerable. “but what if you decide that you want to keep pursuing art? and you realise i don’t fit into that world anymore? what if those three months turn into forever?”

you stare at him, your heart sinking. “charles...”

his gaze hardens as he leans forward. “because if you can’t promise that we’ll still be us after this, then maybe we should end it now. i’m not waiting three months just to have my heart ripped out.”

you feel the sting of tears in your eyes, your breath catching. “charles, i love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking as the tears finally fall.

he’s silent for a moment, his expression softening as he watches you, but the pain is still there, clear in his eyes. “can you promise me that won’t happen?”

you freeze. everything feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. your chest tightens as the words catch in your throat. “pause,” you plead, needing to stop, needing a moment to think.

he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “no.”

“pause!” you cry out, louder this time, desperate to hold onto something, anything.

he looks at you, hurt and frustration etched in his features. “why do you want us to pause?” before you can answer, you pull him in, kissing him with all the desperation, fear, and love you’ve been holding back. for a second, he hesitates, but then his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close as if he’s afraid to let go. he kisses you back, but there’s a sadness in the way his lips move against yours—like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers.

as he pulls away from the kiss, your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. you don’t let go of him, your forehead resting against his. his hands stay on your waist, fingers digging in lightly. his eyes are closed, and there’s a tension in his jaw that you can feel, even in this closeness. the silence between you is heavy, filled with things neither of you know how to say.

“unpause,” he whispers, voice rough, his breath warm against your lips. “you can’t just kiss me and expect this to go away,” he murmurs, his voice low but firm, as if he’s forcing himself to break the fragile silence.

you pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. the desperation in them mirrors your own, but beneath it, you see the fear too—the fear of losing what you’ve built together, the life you’ve shared, the future you’ve imagined. the moment feels unbearably fragile.

“okay.” you nod, wiping away a tear that has slipped down your cheek. “what makes this different from your job, charles? you travel every week for training, races, events. you’re gone a lot. and i’m with you almost every single time.”

he opens his mouth to respond but hesitates, the weight of your question settling heavily. “that’s different. that’s my career, i’m chasing my dreams.”

“and i’m not?” you counter, your voice rising with frustration. “you think i’m just working at a kindergarten because i want to? i love kids, yes, and i love teaching. but i have dreams too. art has always been my passion.”

his eyes flash with uncertainty, but he presses on. “but that’s a commitment. you would be living in another country for three months. we have our lives planned together. our wedding.”

“exactly,” you respond, feeling your heart pound. “you’re pursuing your career while i’m stuck here in a job that doesn’t fulfill me. i wasn’t even going to take the program, but now... it feels like i need to.”

he shakes his head, anger flaring again. “so you’re saying you would rather leave everything behind, including us?”

you take a step back, the pain of his words cutting deep. “i’m not leaving you, charles.”

he runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “and if it changes everything between us? what if you decide you want to stay in new york?”

“i wouldn’t know until i try,” you argue, desperation creeping into your voice. “you’re not giving me a chance to explore who i am outside of our life together.”

his expression hardens, and you feel the air thicken with tension. “then maybe we shouldn’t get married,” he says, his voice cold, an edge of betrayal slicing through the words.

the words strike you like a blow, and you stare at him. “maybe we shouldn’t,” you reply in a firm voice, as if you were sure of what you were saying when in reality you are not. both of you realise what you said and fall into a deep silence, staring into each other's eyes for a couple of seconds.

he clenches his jaw, anger burning in his eyes. “you want to throw everything away just like that? when i’m willing to build a life with you?”

“willing? you’re saying it like you’d do it out of pity!” your voice rises. what at first started as confusion had turned into rage. any word made them both burn inside. “you act like you’re doing me a favor, like my dreams don’t matter unless they fit into your plans.”

“it’s not pity! it’s because i fucking love you.” his fists clench at his sides, desperation flickering in his gaze as he tries to bridge the chasm forming between you.

“love shouldn’t feel like a compromise,” you snap, the heat of the moment fueling your anger. “you’re treating this like a transaction instead of what it really is—a partnership.”

“because it feels like you’re choosing this over reality!” he shouts back, the words slicing through the air. “i can’t stand by and watch you run away when we’ve fought so hard for what we have!”

“fought for what? a life where i can’t even be myself?” you retort, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. “we’ve been together for nine years, and we got together when we were eighteen. of course i don’t know anything but you!”

his eyes narrow, hurt mixed with fury. “so because of that you’d rather chase your move kilometres away than build a life with me?”

“building a life with you doesn’t mean i have to give up mine!” your voice rises, the fear and frustration spilling out. “i want both!”

silence hangs between you, charged with emotion, and the reality of your words feels like a dagger in your chest. the weight of what’s unsaid presses heavily on your shoulders. both of you just stand still there.

“you know you can’t,” he says finally, his voice trembling but full of raw intensity. he takes a step back, the hurt in his expression deepening. “and i know i can’t understand how you want to risk everything we’ve built, everything we are.”

“charles, i’m not risking it! i just wanted to reclaim myself before i lose everything, including you!” the desperation in your voice feels palpable, the stakes higher than ever.

he stares at you, pain twisting his features. “you think this is easy for me? seeing how you can’t choose me the one time i’m asking you to. you think i’m just going to accept that?”

“i didn’t choose it over you! i just want a chance to be myself again. is that so wrong?” you’re pleading now, your heart racing as you see his resolve falter.

his expression hardens again, a wall slamming down between you. “maybe you should have thought about that before you applied. you think it’s all just a game?”

the discussion was taking place in every room, until finally you reached yours. the one you cuddled in, slept in, where you told each other your dreams and talked about how wonderful your life would be when you finally got married.

“don’t you dare put this on me!” you shout, your voice breaking. “you’re the one making me feel like i have to choose! i can’t keep living for you while losing myself!”

“if you’re having these doubts, maybe you don’t really want this life with me at all.” he snaps, each word dripping with anger and betrayal.

the words hang in the air, a finality that feels suffocating. your heart shatters at the thought, and you can feel the walls closing in around you. “i didn’t have any trouble with this engagement until now,” you whisper, the weight of the decision crushing you.

he shakes his head, disappointment etched on his face. “i won’t pretend everything will be okay when you’re clearly not sure about us.”

without thinking, you start to gather your things—clothes, sketches, the remnants of a life shared. each item feels heavier in your hands, a tangible reminder of everything you’re about to leave behind.

tears spill down your cheeks as you try to grasp the reality of the situation. “i love you, charles. but come on.” but even as you say it, you know the truth: you need to find out who you are without him. the realization makes each movement feel like a betrayal, yet you can’t stop packing, each item a piece of your heart that you’re reluctantly setting aside.

“i love you, but—” his expression hardens, anger and hurt merging. “but if you walk out of that door, and we’re done. no second chances. you’ll have everything, but not me.”

“then this is where we end.” you nod slowly, feeling the gravity of his words. “i just needed to figure out who i am outside of our relationship. i’m really sorry you couldn’t even bother to understand it.” you add, voice steady but filled with pain.

as you zip up your suitcase, you turn to take one last look at your flat, your gaze lingering on the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls. smiling faces frozen in time serve as bittersweet reminders of what had just a couple of hours ago.

he doesn’t look at you, unable to meet your gaze, the silence between you heavy with unspoken feelings. you open the door, the cool air rushing in to meet you, a stark contrast to the warmth of what you’re leaving behind. with one last look at the man you thought you’d spend your life with, you step outside, the door closing behind you with a finality that echoes in your heart. as you walk away, the emptiness he leaves behind feels like a gaping wound. you stand in the hallway, your heart heavy, knowing everything has changed in a heartbeat. the future you once envisioned together now hangs by a thread, and all you can do is hope that, in time, both of you will find your way back to each other—or at least to the pieces of yourselves that have been lost along the way.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

#piastrisun: work #piastrisun: drabbles #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x female oc #charles leclerc angst #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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mrsbarnesxxx · 7 months

Note

Bill Weasley x Malfoy!reader. Met at Hogwarts, dating since graduation. Bill brings reader home and Weasleys hate her/treat her like flour until bill snaps them they get to know her. End with fluff

Warnings: slurs/general unkind words (nothing too serious), fighting, angst, Bill being an absolute sweetheart

It wasn't easy growing up a Malfoy. Everything you did was under scrutiny. Everything was about blood status. Your parents barely spoke to you anymore now that you had "betrayed" them by dating Bill Weasley. You two had met at Hogwarts, you'd had classes together every year, and eventually, the two of you bonded about being the eldest in your family. Eventually, one summer day, Bill had asked you to marry him. Of course, you said yes, however, you were regretting saying yes to spending time with his family. You had gotten to the burrow yesterday afternoon and no one had said a word to you. Maybe they thought you'd be like your family, but they clearly weren't interested in getting to know you. They would look at you and scoff before turning away. You expected a bit of apprehension from them. Bill had told you this was the first time he had brought a girl home and your family didn't exactly help, but you hadn't expected them to be this bad. Over the last day, they had escalated from ignoring you to saying blatantly rude things. They would call you a blood supremacist, a snake, and all sorts of other things.

The second night you were there you had enough at dinner.

All of his brothers had been making subtle comments since dinner started, you'd expected one of his parents to say something, but it seemed they agreed with them.

"J'aimerais y aller, s'il te plaît." I whisper leaning over to Bill after his mother's latest jab.

"What? English is beneath you, princess?" Bill's brother Ron jeers.

"Alright, that's enough," Bill says standing up from the table. "All of you have been nothing but rude to my fiancee since we got here. None of you have bothered to get to know her or even ask her anything about her. You haven't even bothered to make polite conversation that anyone could tell was fake. What is wrong with you? You used to be the most loving people. I get the world is messed up, but that's no excuse for your behavior. Come on, let's go." He says, finally turning to me and extending a hand. I take it, offering a polite smile at his family before we leave the room.

"You have to understand that we never expected you to bring someone like her home." His mother exclaims. That seems to stop Bill in his tracks. He turns around to face his family.

"Someone like what? You don't even know her. You always said that you never cared about blood, but it seems you care about her's." He says. "Let's go."

He turns back to me, taking my hand and leading me upstairs.

"I'm so sorry, darling. I can't believe they acted like that tonight." He says pulling me into a hug.

"Bill, you can't be serious?" I ask pulling away from him. "They've been acting like that since I got here. You haven't heard your brothers' comments about my 'murderous heritage'? Or your sister asking me to pull up my sleeves to check for a snake on my left arm? Or your mother calling me 'one of those people'? The only person who has been remotely kind to me is your father and he just hasn't said anything to me."

"I'm so sorry. I should have paid better attention. I have no idea why they're acting like this." He says softly, caressing my cheek. "We'll go first thing in the morning, okay?"

"We can't go, Bill. We're supposed to be having the wedding here. In the backyard with your parents and the rest of your family." I explain.

"I don't care. If they're treating you this way, then they don't get to come to our wedding."

"Bill, they're your family!"

"And you are too." he says caressing my cheek. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want you to be the mother of my children, and in 16 days, you're going to be my wife, so that makes you the most important person in the world to me, okay?"

"Okay." I smile leaning up to kiss him.

As soon as our lips meet there's a knock on the door. We pull away from each other, Bill running a hand over his face before turning to his mother in the doorway. He doesn't say anything, simply looks at her waiting to see what she has to say.

"We're so sorry, Bill. We never meant to treat her like that...we're just...we're sorry. Please come back downstairs. We can start over." His mum offers.

I smile and take Bill's hand, "Please." I whisper trying to relax him.

"Okay." He nods looking at me.

I smile, interlocking our fingers before we head downstairs.

As we reach the table, anxiety fills my chest at what his family might say or if they never like me, but I know that none of that matters because I have Bill.

#mrsbarnesxx #mbxxrequests #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x malfoy!reader #bill weasley #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley angst #bill weasley fluff

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fantasyescapes17 · 1 year

Text

Closed Doors (Part 2)

Soonyoung had made peace with his station in life. A younger son of a little-known family, he was not set to inherit a fortune and had nothing to recommend him but his bright personality. Nobody expected Soonyoung to make the match of the season. But when you- a woman with ties to the royal family and riches beyond his imagination, a Duchess in your own right- seeks Soonyoung's hand in marriage, his life begins to spiral entirely out of his control.

Genre: Hoshi x female!reader. Regency!AU. Your title is the Duchess of Graham but your first name is not mentioned.

Warnings: Wedding night so mentions of sex but nothing explicit is described, it fades to black. Not even remotely historically accurate. Much like Bridgerton, this is all about the aesthetic.

Word Count: 7.5k+

Part 1 Part 3

Series Masterlist [This is not the first installment in this series- it is strongly recommended to visit the Masterlist and read the installments in order as they are all interlinked and the timeline can be confusing.]

"I've known the Duchess for most of my life," Viscount Hong explained as the carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets. "Our late fathers were close friends. My sister and I spent a few summers at the Graham's duchy in our childhood; although my sister was probably too young to remember much of that."

Soonyoung tried to focus on the Viscount's words, but it was difficult to hear them over the sound of his own pounding heartbeat. The two gentlemen were on their way to your manor now. Soonyoung had asked to speak with you himself, though as the manor looked closer, he was beginning to regret his decision.

What was he going to say to you? What did one even say to a Duchess who had proposed marriage after a single conversation? Thank you?

Soonyoung cleared his throat and tried to focus on the conversation. He needed to understand as much as he could from the Viscount before he faced you.

"Did you never think of marrying her yourself?" Soonyoung asked.

Viscount Hong looked surprised. "Oh- erm… not with any real seriousness. I will admit our late fathers may have preferred it. The Duchess is a good person, but I am not sure we were ever compatible in that way."

"So you were not compatible with her," Soonyoung replied in mild disbelief as he looked at the handsome, rich and otherwise impeccable Viscount in front of him, "but somehow you think I am compatible with the Duchess? Me? The second son of the Kwon family who doesn't have a single useful talent or penny to his name, me?"

The Viscount Hong sighed.

"Soonyoung, think about this rationally. The Duchess is a young woman who has no surviving family and has been burdened with a title, fortune, and dukedom that nobody in the ton thinks she should have. She did not even have a chance to properly mourn her father; the moment he died, there were petitions submitted to the Queen by noblemen protesting her title and seeking to take her lands from her. She is fighting a battle against some of the most powerful men in the country, all alone. What do you think she wants in a husband?"

Soonyoung stared at the Viscount blankly.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he admitted.

The Viscount pressed his fingers to his temples. "She wants someone she can trust, Soonyoung. She came to me for help. I will not lie to you. I did introduce her to other eligible gentlemen. For some reason, she turned them all down. The Duchess only expressed an interest in you."

Soonyoung felt nauseous. "But we only talked about cakes."

"What?"

"At the ball. During our dance. I was nervous and she asked me why her ball exceeded the usual London ones, so I told her she had a better selection of cakes. That is all we talked about during the dance, Viscount Hong. Cakes," Soonyoung admitted worriedly. "I just can't understand why she would…"

The Viscount smiled.

"You had better ask her yourself, then. We have arrived."

—----------------------------------------------

The Duchess' manor was as intimidating and magnificent as Soonyoung remembered it. He still felt unworthy to walk these grand halls. He followed Viscount Hong anxiously as a servant led the two gentlemen towards one of the many drawing rooms that Soonyoung had never set foot in before.

"Viscount Hong and Mr. Kwon are here, Your Grace," the servant announced their arrival.

You were seated near the window, but rose gracefully to greet the gentlemen. Soonyoung was struck once again by your beauty. In the absence of the sparkling lights of the ball and the heavy jewellery, even in the simple pale morning sunlight, you were still the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

"Thank you for coming," you said to them both in your soft, lilting voice. Your smile- the beautiful one that Soonyoung noticed still did not quite reach your sad eyes- made him almost forget to greet you with the proper decorum.

"Your Grace," he choked out quickly, bowing his head.

The Viscount glanced between the two of you with an amused smile. "Well, far be it from me to intrude upon your conversation any longer than necessary. I have brought a book that I am quite keen to read. I will employ myself accordingly. I only ask that if your conversation takes too long, I might be served some tea."

"I have sent for some tea already," you promised the Viscount, who retreated to the far corner of the room. He made a show of seating himself as far away as possible, facing in the opposite direction from you both and burying his head in his book.

You turned to Soonyoung.

"Mr. Kwon; please, have a seat."

Soonyoung walked with shaky legs towards the small table near the window. There were two ornate chairs on either side- he sat across from you and took a deep breath. His hands felt clammy.

"Thank you for coming," you repeated to him softly. Your hands were folded politely on your lap. "I must apologise for not approaching you directly on this matter, Mr. Kwon. Considering how brief our acquaintance has been, I thought that if you were not inclined to matrimony or wished to reject my proposition, you may have been more comfortable expressing your response to Viscount Hong. I am very glad you asked to meet me.”

Soonyoung stared up at you with wide eyes.

“That is… very considerate of you, Your Grace,” he said politely. The mere thought of hearing your proposal directly from you instead of from Viscount Hong made his palms sweat. Soonyong was certain that his current position was far preferable.

You smiled at him gently. “You must be… surprised.”

“I will not pretend that I anticipated any of this.”

“Allow me to explain,” you began carefully. “I am sure the Viscount has given you an indication of my situation. I lost my father- the late Duke, a few months ago and have inherited his title. I have no surviving family and the reception from the ton and other titled noblemen to inheritance of the lands and title has not been… entirely positive,” you explained. Soonyoung watched you, captivated. You spoke calmly, and a faint strain in your voice towards the end of your sentence was the only indication of any loss of composure.

Soonyoung cleared his throat. “I-I am sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you replied simply. “While I am relieved that my family’s legacy is not lost, I must admit that the role of a Duchess is not one which was designed to be played by a lady alone, particularly not an unmarried one. In addition to the friction from the other noblemen, my position makes it difficult for me to do justice to my duchy. It is also important that I secure the future lineage of my family so that my father’s efforts are not in vain. I am explaining these things to you, Mr. Kwon, so that you are better able to understand my reasons for needing to marry soon.”

Soonyoung nodded. “Yes-yes, of course, Your Grace, I understand.”

A servant entered the room with some tea and biscuits. You paused and waited for her to pour you each a cup, and directed the servant to send one over to Viscount Hong in the corner of the room. Then you turned back to Soonyoung and watched him put two sugars in his cup.

“I see you have a sweet tooth,” you remarked with a small smile.

Soonyoung’s ears turned pink and he froze halfway through stirring his tea. “I-I, erm. Yes, yes, I am partial to a little more sugar than most,” he admitted self-consciously. “I apologise. I should perhaps try not to consume so much of it…”

Your expression was gentle as you looked up at him. “I do not think a habit of excessively sweetening one’s tea is the worst vice a gentleman can have, Mr. Kwon. Viscount Hong speaks very highly of you.”

Soonyoung’s ears reddened further and he coughed. “I-I did not realise you spoke to Viscount Hong about me, Your Grace.”

Your eyes dropped down to your tea and Soonyoung saw a flash of that familiar sadness in them for a moment before you spoke. “I have been finding it… difficult to trust people of late. Some of my father’s closest allies signed a petition to have my title revoked. Others have made underhanded attempts to orchestrate a match with their sons and usurp my duchy. Viscount Hong is the only nobleman I can still trust. That is why I sought his aid to find a suitable husband. I considered his judgement to be more impartial and reliable than anyone else I knew.”

Soonyoung nodded in understanding. It was becoming increasingly clear to him now- this was a very delicate situation that extended beyond frivolous gossip and societal opinions. This was about politics and land and power. The Viscount had been doing you a favour by being vague at the ball a few nights ago. It would not be appropriate for the entire ton to know that the Duchess of Graham had turned down most of the offers made to her by noblemen and was seeking a husband elsewhere.

Soonyoung bit your lip. “I am sorry that you are in this position, Your Grace,” he said carefully. “But I must commend you for placing your faith in Viscount Hong. I doubt I could name anyone with more integrity or honesty than the Viscount.”

You bit back a smile. “I am glad you think so. Because the Viscount led me to you.”

Soonyoung cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, he led me to you. I…”

You set your tea down and took a deep breath before lifting your eyes to meet Soonyoung. He was stunned into silence by the power of their gaze. There was a deep, deep sadness in your eyes but he also saw strength and gentleness.

“I apologise for putting you in this situation,” you told him honestly. There was a hint of regret in your soft words. “This is hardly the most romantic way in which to propose marriage and I am sure it cannot be flattering to you to be put in this position. I assure you, Mr. Kwon, I will not blame you if you cannot find it in yourself to enter into this… marriage of convenience.”

There was a long silence.

It only occurred to Soonyoung much later that there were other things he should have carefully considered about the match- the possibility of gaining a fortune, a title, and lands, of going from a penniless second son to a Duke in one move. There were so many reasons to accept your proposal. None of the other gentlemen of the ton (least of all Mr, Kim and Mr. Lee) would believe Soonyoung when he said that none of those things had been on his mind at that moment.

Instead, he had only one thought on his mind.

You needed help. And while Soonyoung could not pretend that he fully understood you (there was still so much hidden behind that beautiful smile and deep eyes of yours), there was one thing that he was fairly confident about.

He wanted to be the one to help you.

“It would be an honour, Your Grace,” Soonyoung said slowly and carefully, “to be your husband.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

Soonyoung felt like he was in a dream as he exited your manor that afternoon with Viscount Hong. His mind and body seemed to be floating in the clouds, and it was difficult to concentrate on what the Viscount was saying to him.

“... cannot tell anybody about the engagement, yet, you understand, not until the Queen has granted her approval for the marriage. Perhaps in two days the announcement can be made in the papers. I assume the Duchess will handle making an appointment with the Queen, but-”

Soonyoung was suddenly and violently jerked out of his reverie.

“Sorry- did you just say the Queen?” he demanded.

Viscount Hong gestured for the carriage driver to begin and then turned back to his companion. “Yes, the Queen. The Duchess is one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. She is part of her court. Naturally you will both need to approach the Queen for her blessing before you can announce the engagement publicly. You risk offending Her Majesty if you do not approach her before a public announcement.”

Soonyoung swallowed. He suddenly felt faint. “Yes, but surely the Duchess will handle that…”

“The Queen will naturally want to see you in order to grant you her blessing to the couple.”

“O-oh.”

Viscount Hong bit his lip as he looked at the startled young man sitting across from him in the carriage. He took a deep breath and sighed. “Soonyoung.”

“Yes?”

“Have you fully thought about this? Really thought about it? Being a Duke is not easy and there is an incredible amount of responsibility involved. The Duchess is entangled in the middle of a political tussle and I am sorry to say that she is on the weaker side. She needs someone who can be strong and support her through this ordeal. I know you are capable of doing so, I would not have recommended you otherwise. But I need you to step up to the task. The Duchess needs you to step up to the task.”

Soonyoung looked up at the Viscount sharply. There was a newfound determination in his eyes.

“I will do whatever is necessary,” he said firmly.

The Viscount relaxed. “Good. I will let you know once an appointment has been made to meet the Queen.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Lee Seokmin was quite drunk.

“I cannot go to the navy alone!” he cried, his glass of whisky sloshing all over the expensive carpet. Fortunately for Seokmin, Mingyu was far too entertained by the scene before him to be concerned by the damage Seokmin was doing to his drawing room rug. “We were supposed to go together! We were going to capture pirates together, Soonyoung!”

Mr. Lee Jihoon raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. “It is quite unlikely that you would both have been stationed on the same ship.”

Seokmin paused. “We could have met at the naval base.”

“Yes, because the royal naval base is simply full of pirates ripe for your picking.”

Soonyoung was currently on his fourth glass of whisky and Kim Mingyu’s drawing room was beginning to appear hazy to his intoxicated gaze. The gentleman’s club was the preferred haunt for the group of bachelors gathered, but it was too public for the present celebration. Since the announcement would not be made in the papers for a few days, it was important to keep the news of Soonyoung’s engagement under wraps. They had gathered in Mingyu’s drawing room instead.

Jihoon, the most sober gentleman in the room by far, leaned closer to Soonyoung.

“Seokmin is merely inebriated,” Jihoon told him gently, misreading the worried expression on his friend’s face. “I hope you do not blame yourself for destroying his dreams of capturing pirates- my sister and I would never have consented to him joining the Navy in any case.”

Soonyoung blinked. “Oh.”

“Congratulations on your engagement, Soonyoung.”

“Thank you.”

Someone passed Soonyoung a cigar and he lifted it to his lips, taking a deep drag before leaning his head back against the armchair. He did not smoke often- he did not even drink often but the consequences and ramifications of the decision he had made earlier today were rapidly descending upon him. In order to distract himself from the sinking thought that he had perhaps made a rash decision that would impact the rest of his life and your life, he allowed Jihoon to refill his glass.

“I would like to raise a toast,” Mingyu announced loudly, rising to his feet and lifting his glass. “To Kwon Soonyoung, the man who refused to chase the dowry so the dowry came chasing him!”

Everyone chuckled. Soonyoung clumsily tossed back the whisky. He was beginning to feel nauseous.

“For heaven's sake, that painting is an eyesore,” Jihoon complained loudly as he gestured to one of the obnoxiously large paintings of a tastefully nude woman that Mingyu had displayed above the fireplace. “Is there nowhere else to hang that? What do you do when there are ladies present?”

Mingyu chuckled. “Do not fret, Mr. Lee, I will be shifting that painting to my art gallery once it is opened. As for the ladies, I entertain them in the breakfast parlour. It has paintings of kittens.”

Jihoon was still unimpressed. “I pity the women you court.”

“May I remind you that you are the one who cannot seem to stop staring at the painting?”

“You little-”

“I need some fresh air,” Soonyoung announced. He was barely audible over the sound of Mingyu and Jihoon debating the inappropriateness of nude paintings in a drawing room. Setting his glass down and finding his unsteady legs, Soonyoung walked towards one of the large balconies and stepped out into the night air. The cool summer breeze swept through his hair. He leaned against the railing for a few minutes- eyes closed, and thinking about the whirlwind of events that had led to him being engaged to a Duchess in a few days.

“Soonyoung?”

Seokmin had followed him onto the balcony. The younger Lee rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he joined Soonyoung near the balcony railing.

“Seokmin.”

“Jihoon thought I might be upsetting you by going on about the Navy. You know that I don’t actually resent you for backing out? I was merely joking. You’re about to be married, I couldn’t be happier for you,” Seokmin said honestly. He had a smile on his face. “You’re about to become a Duke.”

Soonyoung swallowed. “A Duke. Yes.”

“Why do you look worried?”

“Because I am worried,” Soonyoung confessed. His knuckles were white as he clasped the railing of the balcony and the words spilled out of his mouth rapidly. “The Viscount is right. I don’t have the faintest idea what the responsibilities of a Duke are. Having a title like that and a duchy is no joke, it is about politics; something I have no knowledge of. It is not merely my own life on the line. Everything I say and do will impact the Duchess. She is… she is not merely asking to marry me, she is trusting me with her property and family legacy and reputation. I-I don’t know if I am capable of this.”

Seokmin stared at his friend for a long moment.

“Soonyoung. You underestimate yourself.”

Soonyoung bit his lip, hard. “Do I?”

“Do you know what any other young man in your position would do?” Seokmin asked knowingly. “He would celebrate that some woman had handed him a fortune and a title on a golden platter. The fact that you are seriously considering the responsibilities involved with the dukedom proves that the Duchess was not wrong to choose you.”

“I don’t know why she chose me,” Soonyoung admitted with a sigh.

“Did you not ask her?”

“I should have asked, perhaps- it just… I did not get the opportunity and she called it a marriage of convenience, so clearly the answer cannot have been anything very flattering,” Soonyoung mumbled. He took a deep breath and looked up at the moonlight sky. “I wish I could celebrate with you, but all I can think of is how I am suddenly deeply terrified of disappointing the young lady that has misplaced her trust in me.”

“Soonyoung,” Seokmin said firmly. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You are overthinking this.”

“Do you really think so?”

“You were prepared to go out into the open sea and fight pirates and enemy ships. I never once saw you show fear at the thought of joining the Navy. Why do you suddenly think you will not be able to handle the simple task of being a good husband?”

Soonyoung sighed. “I trained to be a sailor. I attended the Royal Naval Academy for years. Nobody has ever prepared me to be a Duke, Seokmin.”

“Then start preparing now. It is not too late.”

Soonyoung took a deep breath. Yes, Seokmin was right, He did not need to blindly blunder into this situation. He could prepare. He would prepare and would prove to you that you had not made a mistake by choosing him.

Kwon Soonyoung would learn to become a Duke.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soonyoung fidgeted in his brand new coat as he waited for your carriage to arrive. The coat was not uncomfortable in the least. On the contrary, it was perfectly tailored to fit Soonyoung, as opposed to the hastily mended hand-me-downs from his brother that he often wore. The Viscountess Hong was an angel; upon hearing of Soonyoung's engagement, she had promptly sent for a tailor to customise a new suit for Soonyoung to wear to his meeting with the Queen.

His meeting with the Queen.

A phrase that Soonyoung had never imagined he would say with any seriousness, and yet here he was. Standing near the entrance of the royal palace and waiting for the Duchess of Graham to meet him for a private audience with the Queen.

Your carriage approached and Soonyoung took a deep breath as he hurried forward. The footman was mildly surprised when Soonyoung stepped up to the carriage door himself and offered you a hand to help you descend.

You gave him one of your soft smiles and accepted his hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Kwon,” you told him. Your deep eyes glanced at him in an almost approving manner. “Is that a new suit? You look very handsome.”

Soonyoung could not prevent his ears from turning red at the compliment and he struggled with what to say in return. You looked radiant in a beautiful green dress that emphasised your glowing skin, and he opened his mouth to return the compliment… but nothing seemed sufficient to encapsulate how beautiful he thought you were. He waited too long; the moment passed.

“The Queen was pleased to grant us an audience even at such short notice,” you informed Soonyoung in a hushed tone as you both entered the royal palace and followed a pair of servants to the audience chambers. Soonyoung tried to focus on your words and not on the gentle pressure of your hand resting near the crook of his elbow. “I am sure she will be perfectly pleased to grant us her permission to marry, but I must warn you- Her Majesty is under the impression that this is a love match.”

Soonyoung cleared his throat nervously. “A love match?”

You blinked up at him apologetically. “I have already rejected offers from the sons of a few other Dukes that attempted to have my title revoked. The politics here are complicated; I found the easiest way to justify marrying someone outside of the commonly expected options, was to tell the Queen I was in love.”

“I see,” Soonyoung swallowed. “In love-yes, yes, I suppose we may say that.”

You seemed worried. “I apologise if this is sudden-”

“Not at all, Your Grace,” Soonyoung told you firmly. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. This was his first test and he was not about to let himself be thrown by a small change in circumstances. He could handle this. He would not disappoint you. “It is not an issue at all. I will be sure to confirm the Queen’s understanding that this is a love match.”

You seemed relieved. “Thank you, Mr. Kwon.”

You both arrived at the audience chambers and waited in the hallway for a few moments until the Queen was ready to see you. Soonyoung’s heart was beating at an unnatural rate and he resisted the urge to fidget with his sleeves and cough. Your gloved hand resting lightly near his elbow somehow worked to keep him grounded. He focused on your gentle touch and kept his composure as the doors to the audience chamber opened and a guard came out.

“Her Highness has granted you an audience. Please enter.”

The Queen was seated at the head of the room. Soonyoung did not dare lift his head to look her in the eye. He did not even dare to look properly around the audience chamber for fear that the grandness and magnificence of the royal palace would cause him to lose composure. He simply allowed your gentle hand to guide him where he needed to go and followed you into a deep bow before the Queen.

“Ah, the Duchess of Graham,” the Queen greeted you loftily. “I must say that I was pleasantly surprised when you requested an audience, The word among the ton is that you have rejected so many eligible suitors that I had quite despaired of your ever marrying. I am relieved to see that is not the case.”

You responded quickly- your voice was soft and deferential. “Your Majesty. You have bestowed my family with the most precious gift of all by allowing my lineage to continue to hold the dukedom. We are forever indebted to you for your kindness and naturally, the decision of who should be the next Duke of Graham was not one that I could take lightly.”

This seemed to please the Queen.

“And you have finally made your choice? Mr. Kwon, I hear?”

Soonyoung bowed his head. "Yes, your Majesty."

The Queen observed him slowly and critically. "You are a handsome young man; I can certainly see why the Duchess prefers you. But the question remains- can you be a Duke?"

Soonyoung swallowed. "I will do my best, your Majesty."

The Queen huffed. "I suppose that is all one can ask for, really- my dear Duchess, have you quite set your heart on this man?"

You bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Then far be it from me to stand in the way of your love. You have my blessing. You may marry- and Mr. Kwon may be granted the title of a Duke," the Queen said dismissively.

"Thank you, Your Majesty-"

"Yes, yes. Be on your way and prepare for your wedding. And my dear Duchess- now that you shall have a husband to handle the matters of your estate, I expect you to attend to the royal court far more often. You will need to join me and the other court ladies for tea at least once a fortnight."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Your grasp on Soonyoung's arm relaxed noticeably and Soonyoung was relieved when you began to leave the room and he could follow you. The moment you both left the audience chambers, he released the breath he had been holding and looked up at you with a sheepish smile.

"That was… not as difficult as I expected," he admitted with a grin.

You smiled back at him softly. "Did you think it was going to be difficult? I did tell you that Her Majesty would be pleased to grant her permission."

Soonyoung flushed. "Yes, but- I mean… I have never met the Queen, so…"

"Of course. I can understand. I thought, perhaps we should discuss, before we part… when we might have the wedding?" you began. There was a sudden shyness in your gaze that Soonyoung was surprised to note.

He blinked. "Whenever you see fit, Your Grace."

"Our engagement will be announced in the papers tomorrow," you told him as you both walked back to your carriage. "Since we have the Queen's permission to marry, I do not believe a lengthy betrothal is necessary. Unless you had any objection- perhaps next Monday?"

Soonyoung froze in his path. "For the wedding?"

You noticed his hesitancy. "Was there any reason you wished to wait longer?"

Soonyoung opened his mouth to speak. It was all happening so quickly. He almost wanted more time to prepare, to comprehend the life he was getting into. But he saw the anxiety in your eyes. You wanted to be married soon and he could understand- the pressures you were facing were not light.

It was not the time for Soonyoung to be selfish.

"No. No, next Monday is perfect, Your Grace," Soonyoung said quickly. Your carriage was waiting outside the palace and your footman rushed to open the door for you.

"Then I will have the arrangements made," you told him gently.

"E-excellent."

Soonyoung held out his hand to help you into the carriage but he was interrupted by your butler, who suddenly approached with an armful of books. "Mr. Kwon!" the butler greeted him politely. "I had these brought over from the Graham library, as per your request. Was this what you were looking for?"

You paused and frowned at the books. "What are these?"

Soonyoung's ears turned pink. He had expected the butler to give them to him privately- not in front of you. He took the books and smiled at you awkwardly.

"I-I realised that I knew very little about the Graham duchy so I asked your butler if he could find some books that would teach me about your family lineage and the history of your lands," Soonyoung admitted shyly. He noticed the shock in your deep eyes which slowly melted into something much, much softer and affectionate as your eyes dropped to the heavy genealogy book at the top of the pile.

"Mr. Kwon…" you said softly. "You really don't need to do that."

Soonyoung cleared his throat. "I would like to."

You stared at him for a long moment. Soonyoung felt almost exposed under your lingering gaze. He could not read what was behind your piercing eyes and he was about to apologise for overstepping when you finally spoke again, a small but noticeable crack in your voice.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “We will see each other soon, Mr. Kwon.”

“Of course. Goodbye, Your Grace.”

—---------------------------------------------------------

The week before the wedding went by in a flash. The announcement of the Duchess of Graham's engagement in the papers had predictably thrown the entire ton into an uproar. Kwon Soonyoung went from being an obscure, little-known gentleman to the name on everyone's lips in the span of a single morning.

He was overwhelmed with invitations; to tea at the Baron's house, to dine with the Carter family and many more. It seemed that every single noble family suddenly wished to make Soonyoung's acquaintance and pretend that they had been very familiar with him all along. Soonyoung honestly thought that he may have gone mad if it had not been for Seokmin and Mingyu by his side.

"This happened to my family as soon as my sister's engagement to the Viscount was published in the papers," Seokmin said as he rifled through the invitations. "The entire month was spent having dinner with different families."

Soonyoung's head was buried in a weighty tome about the genealogy of the Graham dukedom and he looked up with a sigh. "I barely have time with wedding preparations to attend half of these invitations. Not to mention the reading I hoped to do. What should I do?"

Mingyu, sitting in the corner of the room with a pipe in his mouth, chuckled. "Ignore them."

Soonyoung frowned. "What if some of them are from important families of the ton, they may take offence-"

Mingyu laughed as he took the stack of invitations from Seokmin's hands and smoothly tore them in half. "Important families? Oh my poor dear Soonyoung. I am not sure you understand what is happening to you. You are about to be a Duke. You are now the important family that everyone fears offending. You don’t need to worry about them!"

Soonyoung blinked. "Was it necessary to tear them?"

"I would tear that book in your hands as well, if I thought I could manage it. What are you doing, Mr. Kwon? These are your last few days as a bachelor- are you really going to spend them reading? Something you never even did in your short time at Oxford?"

Soonyoung bit his lip. "This book is rather dry."

"That's the spirit-"

"Do you have any books on agriculture I might borrow? The duchy consists largely of agricultural land and I was hoping to understand more about how the agrarian community pays its taxes."

Mingyu looked aghast.

"None of that. Stop that immediately and come have a drink."

While it was difficult to get the notorious rake to discuss anything seriously, Soonyoung did manage to extract some advice from Mingyu on managing an estate once he was sufficiently drunk, and Seokmin was a welcome presence that served to keep Soonyoung's spirits high.

The day of the wedding finally arrived. It was a smaller celebration than customary for a Duke's wedding and there were many members of the ton that openly lamented not receiving an invitation. Despite the short guest list, Soonyoung was still anxious as he stood up at the altar and stared at the sea of people watching from the pews.

"I still don't understand how you seduced the Duchess," Soonyoung's elder brother grumbled from behind him as he adjusted his cuffs. It had taken no small effort to keep the elder Kwon sober and presentable for the wedding; Soonyoung would forever owe Jihoon a debt of gratitude for undertaking that unpleasant responsibility and executing it without complaint.

But he did not have the opportunity to respond to his brother. You suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle and Soonyoung felt as though the entire room had fallen away and you were the only person standing before him.

You looked exquisite, in a simple white dress and with a gentle smile on your face. Soonyoung watched, almost in a trance, as you walked gracefully down the aisle in a slow, practised gait. You looked divine and Soonyoung was suddenly reminded of how in over his head he felt, how he was marrying a woman so far, far above his station that this had to be some sort of a dream or joke, it could not possibly be real that you were about to become his wife.

You reached the altar and looked up at him quietly through your eyelashes with a small smile.

Soonyoung's heart pounded as you both turned to face the minister. The man read out some pre-written drivel about holy matrimony and Soonyoung tried to concentrate but all he could focus on was the sound of your soft breathing beside him and his own pounding heartbeat. He barely remembered saying his own vows.

"Mr. Kwon," you said softly. "The ring."

Your voice snapped Soonyoung out of his reverie. Somebody was presenting him with a ring and he swallowed nervously before reaching for it. It was a delicate little thing; Soonyoung fumbled with the ring for a moment, but to his relief it did not fall from his grasp. He reached for your hand- your soft, gentle hand- and placed the ring on your finger.

It was done.

You were married.

The rest of the morning felt like a blur. Soonyoung received congratulations from dozens of people he had never met in his entire life. He found himself thrown from conversation to conversation like a child's ball until finally your hand on his elbow tightened and you whispered softly in his ear.

"Our carriage is waiting outside," you said. "We can leave."

"Yes, let's."

It was a number of goodbyes before Soonyoung could finally reach the carriage and help you inside. Soonyoung climbed in as well and once the door was closed behind him, he took a deep breath and looked across the carriage at you.

"I think that went rather well, Your Grace," he said to you lightly.

You smiled back at him. "I thought having fewer guests would make the ceremony quicker but I am afraid we were still detained much longer than expected. Would you object if we went directly to the estate for the night? It is not very far- a few hours' ride."

Soonyoung nodded. "Of course."

—----------------------------------------------------------

You fell asleep during the carriage ride to the Graham estate. Soonyoung was torn between watching the magnificent views of the countryside and the sight of your head drowsily leaning against the carriage wall as you tried to fight sleep. Soonyoung couldn't help but smile at the sight of your eyelashes repeatedly fluttering closed and then fluttering back open in protest.

It appeared even the Duchess of Graham got sleepy during carriage rides.

It was late evening when you both arrived at the Graham estate and although Soonyoung was now much more prepared than before, he was still struck with awe at the sheer size and grandeur of the estate. There were vast gardens at the entrance and the manor itself loomed over the carriage. He could hear the sound of a creek nearby.

"Welcome to the Graham manor, Your Grace," you told him.

Soonyoung descended the carriage slowly, taking it all in. Was this to be his home? Was he really going to live here? Did all this really belong to him now?

"I am afraid we don't have enough time for a tour of the estate this evening," you told him as the servants hurried to open the front doors for you. "I sent word ahead to have supper ready. Perhaps tomorrow, I can show you around the manor and the gardens?"

Soonyoung swallowed and nodded silently.

"Shall we dine?"

"Y-yes."

The dining room was magnificent and there was a lavish spread for supper. Soonyoung decided that he was too far gone to exhibit any shame; he had not eaten all day due to the anxiety from the wedding, and was in no position to refuse the delicacies served at the table. Even the knowledge that you were watching him eat quietly with a small smile on your face did not deter him from filling his cheeks with food.

"Mr. Jones, will you show the Duke upstairs?" you asked once supper had been cleared away. Soonyoung was surprised when one of the butlers quickly ushered him upstairs through various lengthy hallways and foyers to an enormous bedchamber before he could ask any further questions.

A warm bath had been prepared for him in an adjoining bathroom and Soonyoung was surprised to see that all his belongings had already been brought and neatly unpacked in the bedchamber. He undressed and relaxed in the bath for a few moments before the fog from the excellent supper cleared from his mind and he remembered.

This was his wedding night.

You would have to consummate the marriage.

Soonyoung jerked upright and the water sloshed out of the side of his bath. He finished the bath quickly and dressed in a fresh night-suit that had been placed on the bed for him. Then he paced the room and regretted not asking someone about this sooner.

How did this work? Would you come to him? Did he go to you- but no, the manor was enormous and he did not have the slightest idea where you had gone after dinner. He could not wander the hallways searching for your. Should he ask a servant? The sheer mortification from the thought of doing so made Soonyoung shiver.

Would you even want to consummate the marriage? You had said in your own words that this was a marriage of convenience and not a love match. But even marriages of convenience were consummated! You had mentioned carrying on the lineage and to have children it would be necessary to consummate, so surely it would be done?

But perhaps you did not intend to do it tonight. You had fallen asleep in the carriage and you were probably tired from the journey. Perhaps the assumption was that you would consummate at a later time?

There was a soft knock on the door to the bedchamber.

"Come in!" Soonyoung called.

You peeked your head around the door and Soonyoung jumped to his feet. "Your Grace!"he greeted you.

"May I come in?"

"O-of course!"

You entered the bedchamber slowly; you were wearing a soft satin nightgown that revealed your silhouette and Soonyoung felt his blood rush to all the wrong places. Your cheeks were flushed and you were biting your soft lips nervously.

Soonyoung took a deep breath.

Well. It appeared that this would be happening tonight after all.

"I thought- we never got a chance to taste our own wedding cake, so I had them bring a few slices back for us," you explained softly. Soonyoung noticed that there was a covered tray in your hands. He rushed forward to take it from you, and placed it on the bedside table.

"Our wedding cake?" Soonyoung repeated anxiously.

You nodded and lifted the cover off the tray. There were two small slices of a pink strawberry cake covered in white frosting on the tray, as well as a bottle of wine and a pair of wine glasses. Soonyoung stared at the tray and then looked back at you.

"Oh," he said. "Cake. I see."

"The wine was a gift from Viscountess Hong," you continued to explain. Your voice was growing quieter, and Soonyoung noticed that you looked rather flushed. "She thought it might.. help. I must admit that I already had a glass earlier. But perhaps we could share another one?"

That explained why you looked flushed and the way your deep eyes boldly darted up to his and then turned away shyly. Soonyoung took a deep breath to calm himself and sat on the bed.

"Wine and cake," Soonyoung said with a smile. "Two of my favourite things."

"I thought you would regret missing the wedding cake. It's strawberry- made from fresh berries from the strawberry fields on the estate and the cook says she improved the recipe since the ball," you said. You were speaking more quickly than you normally did and Soonyoung noticed the slight tremble in your hand as you poured out two glasses of wine.

"Have you already tasted the cake as well?"

You shook your head.

Soonyoung was not sure where his sudden burst of confidence came from. He certainly never imagined that he would ever have the strength to make a move on any woman, much less a Duchess. But you were nervous. He could see it in your anxious eyes, in the soft lips that you kept biting, and the way your hands trembled slightly as you grasped your wine glass.

He took a small piece of cake on the spoon and held it out to you.

"Taste it first."

You stared at him for a long moment before leaning forward and taking the bite that he offered. You swallowed it and nodded.

"I think it's rather well made," you said softly.

Soonyoung chuckled- he had no doubt that it was well-made, it even smelled delicious. He took a huge bite out of the cake and delighted in the sweet strawberry taste that exploded in his mouth.

"That," he said firmly, "is the most delicious strawberry cake I have ever tasted."

You giggled. "Soonyoung, the cream is all over your face. Here…"

You leaned closer to him and used a napkin to wipe away the cream that had stuck to the corner of his lips. Soonyoung was suddenly flooded with your scent; the familiar fragrance of lilacs and an intoxicating scent that was you, so uniquely you. His dark eyes darted up and met your heavy, lidded gaze.

You kissed him first.

It was not a surprise- Soonyoung had been leaning forward but your lips found him much sooner than he expected, and he had to grasp the edge of the bed to steady himself. You were clumsy in your movements- perhaps it was the wine- and Soonyoung soon found himself wrapping his arms around you to steady you both in a deep, passionate kiss. Soonyoung's fingers grasped fistfuls of your satin nightgown and pulled you closer to him.

You gasped when his lips met your neck. Soonyoung was gentle but his touch was firm and your warm bodies melted together as you both explored each other with your hands and lips. Your hands grasped fistfuls of Soonyoung's dark hair, and you let out a squeal when Soonyoung grasped your waist tightly and turned so that you were lying underneath him on the bed.

He looked down at you for a moment. Your hair splayed out on the pillow and your lidded eyes looked up at him nervously. He could see the excitement and the anticipation, but also a hint of fear in your eyes.

"Soonyoung…" you whispered his name hesitantly. "I… I've never…."

Soonyoung decided that he would never give you a reason to look at him with fear again. He leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your lips and waited until he felt you relax against his lips.

"Tell me if it hurts," he whispered gently, "and we can stop."

You looked up at him and nodded.

"A-allright."

—-------------------------------------------------------

#seventeen scenarios #hoshi scenarios #seventeen fluff #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #regency!au #seventeen fanfiction

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bagopucks · 1 year

Text

J. Hughes - As Sure As It Gets

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 4.6k

Warning(s): none? Angst? Miscommunication?

This was proofread once and written during a nasty headache.

—————————————

“Jack, you’re my best friend.. and I know that..” I had to pause to find the right words. Jack was home for the summer. Home with his family, and I stupidly thought I couldn’t hide my feelings any longer.

“Your best friend?” Jack smirked, leaning into my side, where he’d been for the past hour, binging comedy sitcoms with me. He was practically laying on me, but I never minded. Jack was always a space invader. The best kind, in my opinion. Cuddly and gentle.

“Yeah.” My heart hurt to hear the excitement in his tone when he repeated my words. Maybe best friends was all he wanted to be.

“What’s up?” Jack pressed on, knowing by the tone in my voice that there was more.

“Jack-“ I sighed, glancing down at my lap, where I had been playing with Jack’s hands, occasionally running my fingers over the bracelet I made for him a week ago. The one he never took off. Because it was a symbol of our friendship.

When I didn’t continue, Jack gently moved one of his hands from my own to rest on my thigh.

“I’m listening.”

“Did you ever think about us.. as maybe more than friends?” I knew he had when we were little. Because when we were little, Jack was obsessed with me. Always running across the street with dandelions or flowers from his mother’s garden to knock on my door and give them to me. I used to love the flowers, but Jack had to stop that eventually when Ellen’s plants kept dying. At one point, little Jack, as mischievous as he was, stole his mother’s wedding band to propose to me. Granted we were only kids, and those feelings meant nothing, because they weren’t romantic. But Jack used to think I was the prettiest girl in the room.

“What?” Jack giggled, and I was too caught up in the fact that he was laughing to acknowledge the nervous sound in his voice. “No. Why? We’re best friends.” Jack squeezed my thigh. “Silly.”

Silly. Just like my delusional hope that he felt the same way. My heart shattered. Tears sprung to my eyes, but I tried my best to wipe them away without disturbing the boy pressed into my side. I stared down the tv, as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. Jack and I never bothered to look at one another. But at one point I did notice the way his hand raised to his face. No doubt biting one of his nails, which was a nervous habit he had. Had I made him uncomfortable?

When I got the confidence to speak again, I carefully rubbed a hand through his hair to gain his attention. My eyes were no doubt red from holding back tears, but in the dark, Jack would have been none the wiser. He tilted his head back to look at me.

“Yeah?”

“I should get going..” I was slow to slip out from beneath him. Jack’s lips immediately pulled into a frown. I never left the Hughes house this early.

“You have to stay. The episode’s not even over.”

“Sorry, Jack. I’m just too tired. Ask Lu to watch it with you.”

“Lukey’s boring.” Jack’s small whine of complaint would have been amusing if not for the pulsing pain in my chest. I forced out a laugh nonetheless and started to make my way over to the door. It was only then that Jack completely sat up and stared me down, a sad look in his eyes that I didn’t completely understand. I slipped my shoes on and eyed him in the silence.

“You’re really leaving?”

“Yes, Jack.”

“But we were gonna do milkshakes.” The disappointment in his tone frustrated me. The last thing I wanted to do was be around him.

“We’ll do ‘em some other time, Jack.” I sighed, shaking my head and grabbing my purse. A few tears finally slipped down my cheeks.

“Did I do something?” I heard Jack stand up, and I immediately reached for the door, opening it.

“No.. no Jack. Goodnight.”

Perhaps it was a harsh way to leave him. We hadn’t spoken for a week. An insufferably long week. I pushed him aside when he asked about hanging out. I told him I wasnt home when he asked to come over. I told him I didn’t have time when he offered to take me out. And each time he texted, I’d cry. I’d remember how he wanted nothing more than a friendship, and my heart would break all over again.

“He can have anybody. I should have known it was just in my head.” Eventually the sadness became overshadowed by anger. Frustration in myself for ever letting my feelings get as far as they had.

“I could have sworn he had a thing for you.” Madison muttered as she leaned against the cafe table we were seated at. The one I took Jack to frequently before I decided to ignore his existence.

“Apparently not.” I snapped softly. “He’s just like that.. that’s just the way Jack is. He’s touchy and sweet- and cuddly, and he probably did the same thing with Ty before he left.” My voice could barely balance itself, overwhelmed with emotion as I felt tears well up in my eyes. What hurt the most was knowing Jack probably wasn’t even phased by the fact that we weren’t talking much, or seeing each other. He probably just assumed everything was fine. This was one of those things I couldn’t see Jack about. I couldn’t cry on his shoulder about a broken heart, because he was the one who broke it. And he didn’t even know.

“Maybe you just need to find another guy. I mean, you’ve never known anybody as deeply as you knew Jack. Maybe a contender might help. And you have shit to look forward to! Like your birthday coming up! Did you make plans?”

“Not really…”

“We should do something!”

“I don’t know.”

“We could go out for drinks and get you laid. I think that’s a flawless plan.”

“What about Jack?”

“Think of it as the beginning of you forgetting about him.”

“I’ll think about it.” I wouldn’t. I knew for a fact the Hughes would want to do something, and as hard as it was to think about Jack, I’d still rather spend my night with a family who cared about me, than a man looking to get lucky.

——————

“Hey, mom?”

Ellen smiled at the sound of her son’s voice. Filling that silence she grew used to over the years of her boys being gone. She looked up from the magazine in her hands, taking in the usual disheveled appearance of her middle child. She wasn’t oblivious to the change in his behaviors as of recent, but seeing as he wasn’t going to be an open book about it, she never asked more than once.

“What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you, just real quick?”

“Yeah, hun. What’s-“

“It has to be fast. I’m up to play Quinn in ping pong next.” Ellen smiled at her son. He always thought he was slick, finding excuses to make their emotional conversations brief. To act like whatever was on his mind, wasn’t truly that bothersome.

“Pop a squat sweet pea.” Jack quickly plopped down in the deck chair across from Ellen. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed, leaning back and getting comfortable. Too comfortable for the supposed “short” conversation they were going to have. “What’s going on?”

“Do you know..” Jack’s hands fell into his lap, fidgeting with them aimlessly. “How to apologize for something.. when you don’t know what you did wrong?”

Ellen’s brow furrowed, and she closed the magazine in her hands.

“Who’s mad at you?”

“Uh.. nobody. I was just- asking.”

“Is it one of your brothers?”

“No.. it’s just- the other night, at the house when I had-“

“Did you upset her? What did you say?”

Ellen knew it was me before he even said my name.

“I didn’t say anything.” Jack brought his hand up to his face, resting his cheek on his fist and propping his elbow up on the arm of the chair. “She asked me if I ever thought of us as more than friends.”

“What’s wrong with that? You like her, don’t you?” Jack shrugged, a deep frown tugging at the corners of his quivering lips. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Ellen cooed, slowly leaning forward.

“I told her no.”

“What?” She set her magazine aside. “Why?”

“Because she’ll end up hating me!” Jack began to wipe at the tears forming in his eyes. Ellen stared him down in disbelief.

“How many years have you guys been friends? She’s put up with you this long.”

“But it’s different.. if we get into a relationship and she decides she hates me, it’ll ruin our friendship.” Jack choked on a breath of air and sighed. “She’s my best friend, mom. What if I ruin it?” Ellen slowly stood up and closed the short distance between herself and her son. She reached out to him, and sighed when Jack fell forward, his forehead pressed into her stomach as his arms wrapped around her legs.

“Sometimes I wish you’d just tell me these things before you work yourself up this much over them.” Ellen whispered as she ran one of her hands through Jack’s hair. “Jack, I don’t think you could possibly ruin anything between you two. I raised you to be a kind and respectful person. You’ve never hurt a girl before, have you?” He shook his head, a quiet sniffle catching the attention of his mother, who moved the hand rubbing his back to carefully guide his head away from her body. She tilted his chin upwards. “And even if something happens and you two decide to stay friends, I doubt she’ll just walk away.”

“She won’t spend time with me now.” Jack whispered, trying to stop himself from breathing as hard as he was, while his mother wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“Because she’s hurt, Jack.”

“‘Cause I hurt her.” Ellen could see the tears forming again.

“You can fix it honey, I promise. It’s not too late to figure it out.”

——————

“It’s refreshing to get out of the house. Jack’s been such a let down lately.” Quinn griped as he turned down the next street. I didn’t know why I turned Madison down to go out. I dreaded seeing Jack, but spending the day with Quinn helped me ease into the idea of spending an evening around him.

“Thanks for the birthday celebration today.” I spoke with a small smile.

“No problem. I enjoyed it. Especially that cake you dropped.”

“I didn’t drop it!”

“Yes you did! You’re lucky the thing had a lid, or we would have been eating cake off the concrete.”

“Bold of you to assume I was eating concrete cake.”

“You like the gift though, yeah?” Quinn swiftly switched the conversation on me, and I chuckled softly.

“It’s perfect, considering I’ve only been asking for Canucks gear for a year now.” I teased, tugging at the sides of the Canucks beanie I wore on my head.

“I’ll take it back.” Quinn threatened as he pulled into the driveway of the Hughes’ household. My gaze drifted to the house, and my smile slowly faltered.

“Mom’s been cooking all day. She even got our dad to help.” Quinn turned the car off and quickly climbed out. I hesitated, and he must have taken that as a hint, seeing as he opened the door for me when he got around to my side. I had no choice but to slip out of the car and follow him to the front door. I could smell the food the second Quinn pulled the door open. We both inhaled at the same time, an excited look taking over Quinn’s features. His usual dark and brooding demeanor completely gone.

“Mom! I got her!” Quinn called, and I gently shoved his shoulder.

“I’m not a package.” I scolded.

“Trust me, I know. Nobody would pay for you.”

“Hey! Don’t be mean!” Luke piped up as soon as he stepped into the entryway to greet us. “I’d pay for you.” I assumed Luke was trying to be kind, but it hadn’t come out the way he wanted it to, which left us three laughing softly.

“Glad to know. At least I’d have one supporter if my first profession doesn’t work out.” I held my arms out, and Luke was quick to hug me.

“That’s nasty.” Quinn commented, seeing as I put a visual in his head that he certainly didn’t want. “Go talk to Jack about that.” It was a thoughtless quip. One he knew better than to speak after his mother informed him of the situation, but one he hadn’t thought twice about saying because he said similar things all the time. I cringed, and Luke gave me an extra squeeze. I had no clue that either of these boys knew of my situation with Jack. When Luke pulled away, Ellen was standing in the doorway waiting for her turn. We lunged at each other the second we made eye contact, Ellen pulling me into one of the tightest hugs I’d ever received.

“Oh how I missed you!” She laughed softly. “Jim did too, believe it or not.” It was my turn to laugh.

“Where’s he at?” I questioned as we pulled apart.

“In the kitchen with Jack.” My heart sank. I hadn’t been as prepared as I thought I was. “Come on!” Ellen grabbed my hand and led me off down the hall. I drew in a deep breath, soothed by the smell of her cooking, and quickly stressed by the sight of Jack when I stepped into the kitchen with the woman.

“Hey! Birthday girl’s finally here!” Jim shouted, abandoning the pan on the stove to hug me. I laughed at his excitement.

“Jim! I told you to stir that!” Ellen left my side to rush toward the pan. Jim pulled away from me to look back at his wife.

“I just wanted to say hi.”

“I got it, now.” Ellen waved him off, and I found myself giggling at them before my gaze trailed toward Jack, seated at the table with a hopeful smile on his face.

“Hey!” I had to remind myself that he hadn’t really been affected by my confession. That the joy in his tone was from the fact that this was the first time we’d seen each other in a good week and a half. I couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Jack’s hope was merely a cover for how worried he was that our friendship was already falling apart. He was trying to look excited while mentally he berated himself over missing his chance with me.

“Hey, J.” I prayed for a distraction, and thankfully it presented itself when Luke came rushing into the room to grab my arm.

“You have to pick our movie tonight.”

“It’s my turn!” Quinn shouted from the living room.

Jim scoffed and leaned against the counter.

“Quinn and I will compromise on something. We’ve spent the whole day together, I practically know him like the back of my hand now.” I joked softly. “Go tell your brother to calm down.” Luke nodded and slipped back out of the room. I turned to look back at Jim and Ellen.

“Happy birthday.” Jack’s voice made me cringe. I forced a smile and looked toward him to nod, but my brow furrowed when I noticed the falseness in his smile, fidgeting with his hands.

“Dinner will be ready soon, if you kids wanna go sit in the living room and find that movie.” Ellen suggested.

“Got a time estimate on that?” I watched her head whip back in my direction, smiles painting our lips.

“Ten minutes,” she answered with a chuckle. I nodded and swiftly left to find Quinn and Luke in the living room.

“Quinn, hand over the remote.” I held my hand out, and watched Quinn roll his eyes before placing the tv remote in my hand.

“We’ll pick something together.”

“Oh no! It’s your birthday. Nobody wants what I want.” I chuckled at Quinn’s dramatic acting.

“You hit the nail on the head, Q.” I teased, only to earn a glare from him. We spent the next ten minutes arguing over a movie before Ellen called us into the kitchen again. There was a swift prayer said over the food, and Ellen began preparing plates before guiding everybody into the living room. Usually we ate at the table, but seeing as it was a special occasion, Ellen was lenient.

I plopped down on the couch beside Quinn, Luke quickly invading my space on the other side. I’d admit it felt weird, because Jack always sat beside me, but I tried not to think much of it. Until he came into the room and sat in the arm chair diagonal to the couch. We spared each other cautious glances, and Jack flashed me a hopeful smile. He was off. I couldn’t understand why.

“So,” Ellen spoke when she walked into the living room, sitting on the floor and resting her plate in her lap. “Tell me what you and Quinn did today.”

“She dragged me around until my feet hurt.”

I lightly slapped Quinn’s shoulder, and shot a glare at Luke when he laughed.

“We went to Starbucks first. Then we went to the mall and ran around for a bit. I went ahead and bought a new dress for this fund raiser I have going on next month.”

“I pitched in on that.” Quinn chimed in.

“Yes. He technically got me two things.”

“Yeah, but the beanie didn’t cost much.” He reasoned, and I shrugged.

“Anyways,” I smiled. “We stopped at Walmart after and got a small cake to share-“

“That she dropped.”

“On accident!” Luke started laughing once again, and I shot him another dirty glare. Jim seemed just as amused, and I almost expected Jack to laugh too, but when I looked in his direction, he didn’t seem to be paying much attention, merely picking at his food and occasionally looking up. I may have been heartbroken over the fact that he didn’t like me the way I did him, but I hated to see him so off. I hated that I hadn’t been able to spend my birthday with Jack, like we did every year prior.

“It was still good.” I spoke, slightly distracted by my conflicting thoughts about Jack.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Quinn still decided to play difficult.

“Seems like you two had a great day. Jim went out to do some last minute present shopping while I cooked today.” Ellen’s husband looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Damn mom,” Quinn laughed, “throwin’ dad under the bus.”

“More like ran me over.” Jim chimed in, earning a gentle nudge from Ellen.

“You guys didn’t have to get me anything.”

“We always do, hun.” Ellen reasoned, and she wasn’t wrong. The Hughes family always made me feel loved and special. Anybody would have been lucky to be as close to them as I was.

We conversed and discussed various things while we ate, until plates were set aside and conversation slowed. “Alright. I’ll take plates into the kitchen. You guys get the presents out.” Ellen instructed, and I watched everybody stand up and disperse. Everybody except for Jack. I eyed him for a moment, the way he brought his hand to his mouth to bite one of his nails. That spaced out look in his eyes. We started out good. He smiled at me. He greeted me. I pushed him off again…

“You good?” I finally asked.

“Fine.” Jack answered in a flat tone.

“Jack-“ I immediately stopped when Luke returned with his father. Luke held a small bag, and Jim held two wrapped boxes. When Ellen came back, with Quinn, she had a bag in her own hands. Everybody got situated in their spots again after the presents were set on the coffee table.

“Jack, honey, did you get anything?”

The middle boy looked toward his mother, shaking his head.

“I forgot.”

“That’s such a lie! You got her something like two months ago! You haven’t shut up about it since.” Luke was on the receiving end of a hard glare from Jack before the middle brother got up and stepped out of the room.

“I’ll grab it. You guys go ahead and start.” He spoke.

“Open mine first.” Luke suggested, and I nodded. Opening presents always went by quickly with the Hughes. Luke got me a Polaroid camera and a few packs of extra film. Something I never asked for, but was certainly elated to get. A gift that I was excited to use over the summer. Ellen had informed me that her mother had helped with her gift, which happened to be my very own Grandma Hughes blanket. With three little logos in the bottom, being the teams the boys play for, and my name embroidered in cursive on the other corner. Jim had gotten me a mug and tried to tie it in with his wife’s gift. I assured him the mug would be put to good use, and that I loved it. When it came down to Jack, Ellen called for him. We waited for a while before she let out a sigh.

“I’ll go find him.”

“Let me do it.” I slowly stood up from the couch. Ellen smiled at me and nodded. I didn’t expect my birthday to go by as smoothly as it did, but I knew there was tension between Jack and I. We just needed to talk. When I got up to his bedroom, I gently knocked on the door before pushing the cracked door open. Jack was on his bed, staring down at a little box and twisting a lock of hair between his fingers.

“Jack?” I must have startled him, hearing the gasp he drew in as he looked up at me. He looked teary eyed.

“I’m fine.” He insisted before I asked, his hand falling away from his hair. “I got this for you.” He held out the box, but it was the last thing I was interested in when my best friend looked absolutely heartbroken. I took the box from his hand and set it down on his nightstand.

“What’s going on?” I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Just a bad day?”

“A bad week.” I bit down on my bottom lip. I knew it was my fault. “I missed you.” He looked down at his bed.

“I’m sorry Jack.. I should have made time to spend with you.”

“It’s okay.” He sniffled. “You were upset.. it’s my fault. I ruined it.” I raised a brow.

“What did you ruin, Jack?”

“Our friendship.”

“Jack it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have asked you that question anyway. If anything it’s on me.. and if you don’t feel the same, it’s fine-“

“I like you too.” Jack’s voice came out in a whisper.

“You don’t have to lie now.” I felt the tears spring to my eyes, looking away.

“No I mean it. I do. I was afraid- in the beginning.. I got scared. I didn’t wanna lose you. I’ve liked you for- for forever. But I was afraid it would ruin our friendship.” I tensed when I felt Jack’s hand rest on my thigh. “I wanna be with you so bad.”

I looked back at him, my brow knitted together in disbelief. “Are you sure?” I wiped the tears from my eyes.

“So sure.” Jack looked up at me, and the silence was almost deafening. “I’m sorry I messed this whole thing up.” His eyes trailed back down to the bed, but I was quick to cup his jaw in my hand, bringing his attention back to myself.

“You didn’t mess anything up, Jack.” I insisted. “Just added a few pages to a chapter that could have ended a week ago.” I joked gently.

“I guess so.”

“Oh, stop that.” I gently rubbed his cheek with my thumb. “We’re on the same page now. There’s nothing to worry about.” I shimmied up the length of his bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Come here.” I patted the space next to myself, and Jack quickly moved up to sit beside me. I grabbed the small box from his nightstand and rested it in my lap. He still seemed a bit upset, but I had no doubt he was only beating himself up. He glanced down at the small box in my lap.

“I can return it if you don’t like it.” He spoke softly, but the last thing I wanted to do was return a gift from the boy who just confessed his love for me.

“You know I never return a Jack Hughes birthday gift.” I reminded him as I slowly tore the colorful wrapping paper off. I tried to fight the excitement in my chest when I felt the velvet on the box. It was jewelry.

Jack leaned into my side, one of his hands resting gently against the side of my thigh while I lifted the box and slowly opened it. My heart raced. I gasped. I sat up so quickly that Jack’s teeth chattered when my shoulder hit the underside of his jaw.

“Oh my god!”

“You like it?” Jack asked as he rubbed his face. I turned to look at him.

“It’s beautiful! Jack you have to put it on!” I quickly removed the cushion the necklace sat on. A dainty silver chain with an equally dainty heart charm on it. Something tiny, but elegant in its own manner. I removed the necklace from the cushion and handed it over to him.

“Where’d you find it?” I asked while he worked on undoing the clasp.

“New Jersey. My mom helped me find it for you when she visited last.” He wrapped the necklace around my neck, and I had trouble containing my smile. Once he got the clasp redone, I reached up to run my fingers across the chain.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t like it when I got it.. ‘cause it looked like something for a couple-“ I turned back in Jack’s direction and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

“God it’s a good thing we like each other then, huh?” Jack’s silence made me slowly pull away.

“Huh?”

“Because it’s a thing for a couple.” I reminded him of his previous words, and it seemed to take Jack a moment to understand before a smile parted his lips.

“We can do that?”

“Absolutely we can.” I allowed my arms to hang lazily over his shoulders.

“Man, I was so nervous.. I thought you’d change your mind or- god I don’t know..”

“Jack.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “I have loved you for years now. My mind was made up a long time ago.” His big smile was such a contrast to the frown from before.

“You’re sure?”

“Ask me one more time, Hughes.” I whispered.

“You’re sure?”

I slowly leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“As sure as it gets, lovely.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #quinn hughes #luke hughes

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wardenparker · 4 months

Text

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 14

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Nothing, really. Some conversations about money and clothing but this chapter is fairly smooth sailing. Summary: The wedding planning begins in earnest! Notes: For anyone following along on the chronic pain escapades, this coming week is surgery week! Hopefully this will be the last mountain to climb in the way of handling the issues at hand and we'll have just a little bit of time with smoother sailing.

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13

Planning a lunch for the day after the engagement party was very intentional, not wanting people to be short of sleep or hungover after celebrating the night before. What your mother has planned in as casual a manner as possible is a lunch for family and friends in the White House residence to help start the planning of your wedding. It’s favorite foods and enjoying yourselves. At least, that is the plan.

It’s noon on the dot when you and Agent Sisson walk into the Blue Room, and he happily leaves you to your lunch party. Agent Bailey has a much-deserved day off today and your secondary detail is just fine with leaving you to be guarded by the standing White House detail.

“Birdie, your party last night was magnificent.” Your mother rises quickly and moves to hug you. She had enjoyed the relaxed and festive atmosphere.

“I’m glad you had fun, Mom.” The hug is tight and short, but you squeeze each other before letting go. “We thought it went really well, too. The caterers were incredible.”

“They were.” She agrees. “Now, Marcus’s parents should be here any moment. Your father has already talked Matthew into a round of golf after lunch.” She huffs in amusement.

"Of course he did." That doesn't surprise you in the least, but you are glad to see that your father and Matthew Pike are getting along. When the Pikes had come to visit over the summer the two fathers had gotten on like gangbusters and it's continuing. "Sydney should be here soon, too. Juan is taking the baby to his mother's today for some bonding time." Looking around, there is no sign of your sister despite the table being set for the full party. 'Where's Junie?"

“She’s actually out.” Your mother tells you with a small smile. “She went out to breakfast with her new favorite person.” It’s absolutely wonderful how she has clicked with her soulmate and there is no way she would discourage that. “She gave up sleeping in to spend time with him.”

"Our little Junebug's in love." It stings a little that your baby sister won't be here for lunch and to talk about wedding things, but you definitely also understand the pull of wanting to be with your soulmate every possible moment.

“She is.” Your mother nods and touches your shoulder. “Much like you are. I expect her to come rushing in at the last minute, flustered from seeing him.”

"I guess Grammy's wedding dress is going to get a little bit of a workout." the idea makes you smile. Just the mere idea of it. Even if Junie decided she didn't want to wear the heirloom, it wouldn't truly matter. It's having the option that is meaningful.

“That is something that I wanted to talk to you about.” Your mother arches a brow delicately and smiles.

"What about?" You ask tentatively, desperately hoping she's not about to say that something has happened to it or that she doesn't want you to wear it for some odd reason.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about all of your weddings.” She admits. “I was thinking about offering Alex some of the train, if one of you wishes to remove it, in order to create a vest or something to be a part of his own wedding ensemble with he and David eventually marry. But I wanted to see what you and Junie think, since it will one day be held to pass down to your daughters.”

"Mom." Your eyes water immediately, one hand going to your chest, and you're nodding before you can even say anything else. "I think that might be the sweetest thing I've ever heard. I love it, and Junie will too, I just know it."

“And maybe it will become a tradition with David and Alex’s kids, if they decide to have some.” She is so grateful you like the idea.

"It actually works perfectly with an idea I had," you admit, but a sound from down the hall cuts you off and you grin when you recognize the commotion. "I'll tell everyone together. That's definitely Sydney and Selena that I hear."

“Oh my god, I’m in the White House!” Selena cannot even contain the squeal as the door opens to admit them. “I’m such a history nerd, I just can’t.”

"We'll finally get you on a full White House tour one of these days, I promise." Selena has been meaning to and meaning to book a place on a tour since she moved to DC, but she's been busy and just hasn't nailed down the time. You file the reminder away for yourself and in the meantime you throw your arms around both friends. "I'm so glad you guys are here, oh my god."

“Where else would we be?” Sydney scoffs. “A private invitation to the White House is being framed and hung up on my wall.”

"There's going to be a bunch of them over the next year." Your laugh is full of relief, though, and you usher them both into the room. "Selena, you met my mother last night, right?"

“To be honest, I was too nervous to approach her.” She admits with a rueful shake of her head, obviously a little intimidated by the President of the United States being your mother.

"She's an absolute nerd," you assure Selena with a laugh. You grab her hand and tug her toward the center of the Blue Room. "Mom, you can see Syd's baby pictures in just a second." It's so incredibly sweet that in the last two minutes your mother has clamored to see pictures of baby Constance, but you bring Selena forward with you and smother a laugh. "I want you to meet Selena Pike. She's one of Marcus's cousins and we got attached at the hip while I was in Dallas."

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Your mother has several different smiles, but the one she gives Selena is a genuine, friendly smile that is reserved for family. “Don’t shake my hand.” She shakes her head when Selena offers a more formal greeting. “Family hugs.”

“Oh my god.” Selena breathes, in a way that makes it very clear that the full sentence is actually oh my god, I’m hugging the President, but she keeps her composure well enough and is beaming when she pulls back. “It’s such an honor,” she gushes, giddy and not caring to hide it.

“Well hopefully I won’t disappoint.” She gives Selena a wink and smiles as she practically vibrates.

“Absolutely not.” Selena assures her, certain that there won’t be any politics talked today beyond the invitation list. Today is about the wedding.

“While I know it will not be up to snuff with the amazing caterers that Birdie had last night, I hoped that having lunch would be an easy way to start things off.” Your mother informs them.

"I can't imagine your chef making anything less than stellar." Donna Pike strides into the room with a glowing smile, with your little sister by her side. "I'm so sorry. We got caught up for a minute. June was showing me something in the China Room."

June trails behind your future mother in law, beaming with the innocent hope to someone newly in love. “Sorry, I saw her at the gate and escorted her in.”

"Don't be sorry!" You sweep in and hug them both one at a time, glad to be able to squeeze the life out of your sister and see Donna happily smiling away. Everyone is here and today is meant to be relaxed and joyous.

“Our bride to be is looking radiant this morning.” Donna observes slyly. “Hopefully that means you have a clear plan on what you wish?”

"Marcus and I have talked through some of our early ideas," you pat your purse with pride. "I have a notebook dedicated to wedding planning and thought we could start talking things through over lunch."

“Very efficient.” Donna praises with an encouraging smile. “Now- let me go ahead and say that this is your show. What you want - goes.” She promises. “I will offer an opinion when you want one, but I would never want to be the kind of mother-in-law that views this as ‘her wedding’.”

"This is the White House's wedding." It isn't something that you regret or dread, though, and you turn to your mother with a smile. "And we're going to honor that as best we can, while still doing things our way."

“As long as you are happy with the results.” Your mother interjects. “Otherwise, that wouldn’t be fair.”

“Why don’t we all sit down and we can start talking?” You suggest, nodding to the table that has been set. “I don’t know about you guys but I slept late and didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

“Yeah….slept.” Junie snorts with a knowing grin. “You and Markie couldn’t keep your hands off each other at the end of the night.”

“It was their engagement party,” Sydney reminds Junie, laughing her way to the table. There are place cards out with everyone’s names on them and little bud cases with a few flowers at each seat. “They’re allowed to be sickeningly cute. It comes with the territory.”

“I know.” She grins. “I’m happy for you, even if it’s eye-rollingly cliché.”

“Says the girl who basically came skipping into the room from spending the morning with her own soulmate.” You sit down at the table where your name is marked, delighted to have Syd on one side of you and Donna on the other. “You guys were sickeningly cute last night, too.”

She rolls her eyes and bites her lips for a moment before she sticks her tongue out at you.

"And on that note..." Like the big sister you are, you snicker playfully before turning your eyes across the table. "So Mom, what's for lunch?"

“Poached salmon with a lemon dill sauce, couscous and root vegetables .” Your mother hum. “Started off by a summer strawberry salad with candied pecans.”

There is a collective, happy groan from everyone at the table, and seconds later a member of the White House kitchen staff comes into the room with pitchers of water and iced tea for the table and another follows with the salad course. Dining in the White House is always a bit like a dance, and you love watching Selena's face as she experiences it for the very first time.

Junie looks towards you with a happy face as the salads are being brought in. “Have you decided to wear Grammie’s dress?”

"Starting with the big questions right away?" Well, you can't blame her for that. It will affect her, too, ultimately. "I have. I love Grammie's dress and I've dreamt about wearing it for years. But, Mom had an idea. And it would affect you, too."

“How would it affect me?” She asks curiously, picking up her fork and thanking the staff as they set a salad on her place setting.

"Mom had an idea to alter the dress," you explain as everyone starts to eat. "The train on Grammie's dress is long, and there is enough fabric there that...if we agreed we both wanted to...we could have a professional trim the skirt and use the fabric from the train to make a waistcoat for Alex for when he and David finally decide to get married."

“Oh that’s a wonderful idea!” Instantly in love with the sentiment, she nods eagerly. “I agree, completely.”

"I know we like different styles." The fact that she is on board with this immediately has both you and your mother beaming with bright smiles, and you sip your iced tea happily in between breaths. "But I like dresses a bit shorter than you do, and I'm taller. I bet if we had Grammie's dress taken up to be full-length on you, it would be about tea length on me."

She snorts slightly and nods. “You are taller than me, you giant.” She teases, shooting you a grin. “I love that idea. I know you’ve been mooning over a Jackie O style for a few weeks.”

“I do want to wear pearls,” you admit with a grin. Your cheeks warm with the slowly building hum of excitement that is actually starting to plan your wedding. “And Marcus and I talked about having a cake similar to the one the Kennedys had.”

“Typical.” She teases, falling in love with the idea immediately. “Do we know if the bakery that made the cake is still in operation? You would need a huge one. It could be another feather in their cap.”

“They are.” In fact, Marcus had looked it up within hours of having the thought and been nearly giddy to report it. “But they’re in Boston, so we would need to talk to them to see if they’re even able to do a cake for a DC wedding. If not, we thought we would just replicate the flavors as a nod to the original.”

Junie snorts and throws your mother a grin. “I think that a request for a wedding cake on White House stationary would be something framed and hung on the wall.” She offers, pointing her fork at her mother. “Or can that be done?”

“I’ll find out.” Your mother’s answering grin says she’ll find a way to make it happen if it is at all within her power. “If it can’t be done on White House stationary, the request will still have the First Family’s name on it.”

“We have a back up plan in case it’s unreasonable to ask,” you remind your mother. It isn’t worth throwing titles around over a cake. That’s not only silly, it would look very bad from an outside perspective.

“If it will cause an optic problem, we will handle it another way, but the wedding will be a White House function.” Your mother reminds you.

“Of course it will.” Your fork up another bite of your salad with a happy hum. “To that point: Mom, we’d like to have the ceremony in the Rose Garden if that’s okay with you.”

“Honestly?” She smiles at you. “I didn’t imagine you would want anywhere else.” She admits. “You have spent hours out there since I’ve changed my address.”

“Have you picked a date yet?” Donna asks, promoting you and Sydney to exchange a knowing smile.

“We did.” The fact that it’s starting to become a reality — this dream you’ve had for months now — makes you giddy in your seat. “Since we share so many of the same friends and family members between what would be two guest lists, Syd and Marcus and I all talked, and we’re having the wedding on September second next year. The next morning, in place of a day-after brunch, we’d like everyone to come and celebrate Constance’s birthday at the inn.”

“Oh that is wonderful!” Donna lights up and nods. “That little girl is cute as a button and her birth is wound into your engagement.”

“And,” you tilt your head to Sydney, not having formally asked her about this particular detail yet. “We’d like her to be our flower girl, too.”

Every woman in the room, including Junie, coos at the idea. Sydney nearly tears up, hormones still making her slightly over emotional when it comes to wonderful things and her daughter. “I would love that.”

“Malachi has set his tongue firmly in cheek and insists on being the ring bearer because I trust him with everything else in my life.” It had made you laugh so hard you’d doubled over when he had said it jokingly a few days ago and it’s all you’ve been able to think of since, so you and Marcus had asked him officially. “So he’ll bring her down the aisle safely. No worrying about getting her around or trying to teach a one-year-old to throw flower petals.”Top of Form

“Oh please tell me we can find a baby carrier in your wedding colors.” Sydney snorts, cackling with laughter. “I would pay money to see him strap her to his chest.”

“It shouldn’t be hard.” The thought hadn’t occurred to you but now that it has you’re fully on board. “We think we want to go with navy and gold. It should be easy to find a navy baby carrier.”

“Only if Malachi and Constance are wearing gold.” Selena chuckles. “God that will be cute.”

“We’ll make it adorable. But putting Constance in a little gold flower girl dress sounds adorable.” When everyone is done with their salads a few members of the White House staff comes back in to clear the small plates and serve lunch, which looks absolutely stunning. Not that that surprises anyone. The White House chef is remarkably talented and it makes you grateful on a very large scale that your wedding’s catering will be in good hands.

The first bite has Donna groaning in pleasure. “This is amazing.” She gushes, looking between you and your mother. “Tell me how this works.” She begs. “Do you have to pay for them yourselves or is it part of the perks of living in the White House?”

“Their salary is part of the presidential budget. The kitchen staff are White House employees, not the family’s specifically.” Your mother doesn’t mind talking a little bit of shop at the table, but she does lend Sydney a smile. “If you didn’t already have your restaurant I would have had you here in a heartbeat.”

“Anytime you wish me to cook…” Sydney promises with a grin. She’s spent many hours with your family and has cooked for them plenty of times.

“We might have to have you be a special guest chef for something.” The President smiles. She clearly already has an idea in mind. Sydney is her third daughter and she’s as proud of her as she is of you or June.

“I will cook your next inauguration dinner.” Sydney promises, lifting her glass of iced peach tea as a toast.

“I will take you up on that, young lady,” your mother teases, although everyone knows she isn’t teasing at all.

“Does your family have any special traditions?” Donna asks after a moment. “Beyond the wedding dress? Anything like a cookie table or similar?”

"We did a cookie table when Birdie's father and I got married." Your mother nods, smiling at the memory. "Our family isn't very large, so we don't have a lot of things that have been passed all around or repeated amongst cousins. My parents helped us with the down payment for a house as our wedding present but our kids have already gotten a step ahead in that respect."

“They are amazing.” She agrees with a proud nod. “I have brought something with me that is a Pike tradition.” She informs the table and makes sure she makes eye contact with you. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be continued.”

"Oh my god." Selena breathes from the other side of the table, and she puts one hand on her heart as you tear up instantly.

"I didn't know you were going to bring it," you murmur, having seen enough Pike family wedding photos to know exactly what she's talking about.

“Of course I was going to bring it.” She’s not offended, but she huffs slightly. “I remembered your grandmother’s dress and was hoping even if you decided not to wear it on your wedding day, that we could take a photo of you in the dress with the necklace.” She explains as she reaches down into her purse to pull out a very loved and worn necklace case.

When she hands you the jewelry case you set it very carefully between you on the table and open it up to be able to show Sydney, your mother, and Junie. "I did say I wanted to wear pearls, didn't I?" The necklace itself is ornate and beautiful. A three-strand pearl necklace of natural fresh water pearls in various tones and coordinated sizes that graduate gently at each end. The inner most strand has a stunning fixture of diamonds fashioned like outstretched wings. It can be worn all as one piece, as a double strand of pearls, as just a single pearl strand with the diamond fixture, or the diamond fixture can be removed altogether to become a brooch. Each Pike bride had done something different with the piece to make it her own. "It belonged to Marcus's great-grandmother," you explain to the few people at the table who have never seen the necklace before.

“It’s gorgeous.” Junie coos, falling in love with it. “It’s- oh god, it’s Cartier.” She breathes when she sees the emblem on the box. “Isn’t it?”

"My husband's grandmother was given the necklace as an engagement present," Donna explains, having been proud to wear the piece herself on her own wedding day. She had affixed the diamond brooch to her dress like a badge of honor. "She gave it to her daughter-in-law as engagement gift down the line, and it was leant out to subsequent nieces, cousins, and other granddaughters. It's become tradition for all of the Pike brides to be given the chance to wear the heirloom."

“That is such a lovely tradition.” Your mother comments, finding it to be absolutely breathtaking.

"Isn't it?" It's impossible not to fall in love with the story, just like you had when Marcus had shown you the plethora of family pictures and explained the tradition to you.

“It is time to let the necklace rest in the hands of the next generation.” Donna tells you softly. “We want you to have it.”

“To…to wear it.” You clarify, eyes widening to the point of saucers as you look at your future mother-in-law beside you.

“To keep it safe.” Donna clarifies. “The cousins and nieces and nephews may ask you for it to use and as the future Pike “matriarch” I suggest always offering it when someone gets engaged, but I mean for you to keep it going forward.”

“Pike…matriarch?” It hadn’t occurred to you that that would be the case. It truly hadn’t. Marcus has so many cousins and aunts and uncles you had just assumed that that title would go elsewhere. That the responsibility of it would fall to someone else. But you? “I’m—I’m absolutely honored,” you promise her, tearing up at the table as you squeeze her hand tightly.

Smiling at you, she reaches out and touches your face softly. “I am thrilled that Marcus has found you, wonderful you.”

“I didn’t plan on crying today,” you huff, always playfully, when tears start to press at your eyes. But it doesn’t matter. Not really. Not when they’re tears of appreciation and joy and you can lean over to hug your fiancé’s mother tightly. “Your entire family has been so kind and so welcoming. I’m impossibly grateful to all of you.”

“It is easy to be kind when you are amazing.” She promises. “You are supposed to be in this family, it’s….well, it’s fate.” She smiles ironically.

“It is, isn’t it?” Keeping things to just a sniffle is a miracle but you manage it for now with just a dab at the corners of your eyes.

Everyone else smiles at the obvious affection between future mother in law and bride. Your mother is eternally grateful that you have been so welcomed.

“Okay, well that was unexpected.” You wipe your eyes and let yourself have one more good sniffle before looking around the table with a soft grin. “Anyone else planning on making me cry today? I’ll brace myself.”

“Not unless there’s more unexpected news?” Your mother asks, looking around the table.

"I don't think so." Looking around the table makes you laugh. "Unless someone else has something up their sleeves."

“I cannot give you jewels or prestige, but I can offer my assistance with anything you need.” Selena offers.

"You have my bow." Junie jokes, ever the avid Lord of the Rings fan.

"And my axe." Syd snorts, giggling along with her.

“It was supposed to be sword first.” Your mother tsks, shaking her head at Junie, even as she grins. “Sounds like we need to rewatch it.”

"I know it's sword first." Junie complains, though she will never complain about a rewatch of her favourite movies. "But I never took fencing, I took archery. Why would I pledge my sister a weapon I can't wield?"

“My youngest child is so literal.” Your mother snorts, laughing at the offended look on Junie’s face.

"One of us has to be," you grin in amusement. "I've got my head in the clouds and Alex is a gremlin. We need Junie to ground us."

“You are all so very different, but so very alike.” She muses. “All of you amazing in your own way.”

"Oops." June laughs and points her drink in your direction. "Mom is getting sentimental. Quick, somebody else ask a wedding planning question."

“Where will the reception be?” Selena asks.

"Probably the East Room?" You look to your mother for confirmation, but it makes the most sense. It is the largest room in the residence and usually used for dancing and receptions of other kinds. "Would we have dinner in one of the dining rooms and then dancing in the East Room?"

“I believe that would be very fitting considering that is where the ‘First Princess’ photos were taken.” Your mother hums, nodding in agreement. “We must make sure that Marcus recreates that dip for another photo.” It would be for purely personal reasons she would want that.

“I’ll make sure he does.” It would be perfect for the first and last pages of your wedding album to be those photos, and the idea practically makes you sigh with the dreamy feeling in your heart. “So that’s all the wedding locations sorted. The rehearsal dinner is still way up in the air and the Jack and Jill bachelor party is being left up to the wedding party.” Your eyes cut to your three bridesmaids and Sydney, June, and Selena all grin back with false innocence. “But there will be photography so please keep it wholesome. The only other venue is the bridal shower.”

“Where would you want to have a bridal shower?” Selena asks curiously. “There are so many historic sights around here, I can’t help but think that it’s impossible to choose.”

“If we do another historical site, I want to make sure they keep the museum open like they did last night.” There are only a few bites of your salmon left and you already know you’ll be thinking about this meal for weeks to come. “Using historical sights is about recognizing American history and being open to discussing it. I would hate for someone to show up to an event at Ford’s Theater and assume we support presidential assassinations just like I would have hated anyone to show up last night and assume we supported slavery just because we were at the home of someone who had been a slave owner.” You shake your head a bit, knowing that some people will always be contrary. “Maybe a smaller museum that could use a little recognition?”

“What about something for women’s rights?” Sydney asks. “There’s the museum for Women in the Arts and the Women’s Museum.” She offers. “It can be a moment that shows that just because a woman finds her soulmate, that doesn’t mean she looses herself.”

“There are those, and also the Suffrage Museum,” you nod along with the idea.

“You mean Sewall-Belmont House?” Junie perks up immediately. “Technically it’s now the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument.” You flash your best friend a grin. We could have a tea party in the museum dedicated to women’s suffrage? They sold tea blends and Held tea parties as part of the rallies during the suffrage movement. Any of those would work.”

“Really?” Donna tilts her head in curiosity and smiles. “That is something that I know nothing about, but it would be fascinating.” She confesses.

“Lets see which of those three would be able to take our numbers and passes the Secret Service’s scrutiny,” your mother suggests. “They would all be wonderful choices.”

Murmurs of agreement sound around the table and then the clinks of the forks on the plates resume as everyone continues to eat. “What about gifts.” Selena asks.

“For the bridal shower?” You cringe, knowing that gifts are traditional but also that you and Marcus can manage. “Ought I to make a registry? Or should everyone just have at it?”

“I think you should.” Your mother nods. “If you aren’t comfortable with the gifts, find a charity you would like contributions to be made to in your honor.”

"We've tossed around a few charities we want to support." It's something that has come up a little more often now that gift giving occasions are on the horizon. "We'll talk it over. But knowing my practical fiancé, he will suggest making a small registry for closest family members and friends, and choosing a charity or two to put on the invitations."

“That sounds like the best kind of compromise.” Sydney admits. “Aunt Mildred isn’t going to want to donate to charity, she wants to gift you an egg platter that will be used twice a year and then displayed with pride.”

You smirk, but nudge your best friend beside you. “So this hypothetical Aunt Mildred…is your mother?”

She snorts and sighs. “How did you guess? The horrible name or the insistence on things being her way?”

“Your mother is as particular as she is old fashioned.” You snort, knowing that particular is a generous description of Syd’s mother. Though she has always been a kind and supportive presence, she does has very strong beliefs.

“Particular.” Sydney rolls her eyes and shakes her head, although it’s more in fond exasperation than anything else. “Yes, but that particularity will have you something hopelessly needless and ornamental.” She warns.

“And we will treasure it because it’s from her.” After all, Sydney’s mother helped raise you. She’s as much a part of her childhood as your own mother in a lot of ways.

"Mom is in meetings all day, so no fear of your mother-in-law popping in to give her two cents," you tease, as you and Marcus move through the White House residence on a Friday afternoon hours in advance of family dinner. You're meeting with the person that the White House special events staff has designated as your wedding planner for the very first time and trying not to seem nervous. It feels overwhelming to start this planning right in the midst of the holiday season but it has to get done. And the sooner the decisions are made, hopefully the easier the rest of the wedding preparations will be.

Marcus snorts and rolls his eyes playfully. “You’re the one who said I couldn’t use my badge.” He reminds you, winking as his arm loops around your waist.

"Because I want that ace in the hole, my love." You grin back at him and lean into his side, putting your arm around his waist in turn and giggling. "If anything goes truly sideways, that's when we use the badge."

“FBI, madam,” Marcus drawls seriously. “Did you insist on the color puce for a wedding color?!”

The snort you let out echoes in the halls of the residence and you're still giggling when you turn into the China Room. "I think navy and gold were good choices. Nice and simple. We're not trying to reinvent the wheel here."

“And it’s a play on red, white and blue.” Marcus observes. “The red will come from the roses in the Rose Garden and then gold for the white and of course, navy.”

"The white will surely be your bride, won't it?" Annette is already in the room, sitting with her notebook and phone out on the table in front of her. "Miss Sharma is on her way. She's just coming from a meeting with your father and I'm sure he has given her a few things to consider that he wants for your wedding."

Marcus smile as he nods towards Annette. “Good to see you again. And yes, she will be the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

"There's no need for flattery, you two." But you still hum happily and sit down at the table with Marcus and Annette. "We're all the most interested in having a day that runs both beautifully and smoothly."

“I have two goals.” Marcus tells you. “Well, one goal.” He corrects. “Marry you. As long as that happens, the day is perfect.”

"Was there another one in debate?" The chairs are too far apart for you to lean into his side, so you take his hand and weave your fingers together instead.

“I had thought to have a water fight in the Rose Garden.” He jokes. “But I don’t the secret service would like a game of hide and seek.”

"I might put it on the schedule just to see them panic." Amelia Sharma is a tall, poised, and right now very amused woman who sweeps in to the room with a chuckle. She introduces herself but doesn't stand on much ceremony, plopping down in the chair between you and Annette. "We have quite a lot of work ahead of us. A few jokes will help us keep our heads on straight."

Marcus laughs as he watches her pull out a planner and it’s a wonderful idea. He bites his lip and wonders if it might be a keepsake you and he could have after the wedding is over. “Despite the magnitude of the wedding, we are really pretty simple people.”

"That might be the other thing that will keep our heads on straight," you admit, watching the woman get settled. As is habitual in your mother's White House, there is a pitcher of iced tea and a plate of snacks on the table but for now you just reach to pour yourself a glass of tea. "We're not terribly picky, or high maintenance, or any of that. All we want is a nice day with our friends and family."

“There will be a few other guests as well.” Annette reminds you. “But only few.”

"Do you have the list of official guests?" The guest list from the White House was meant to be approved by your mother early on and adjusted as economics and politics demanded, but you have been curious about a first draft.

“You have final say.” Amelia pulls a sheet of paper out of the planner and hands it to you.

Dignitaries and representatives from other governments are all represented as you suspected them to be. Members of your mother's cabinet. The new governor of Pennsylvania and her family. A few token members of important families. But no celebrities or donors or anything that doesn't make immediate sense as you look over the list.

“Does it look alright?” Marcus asks you, knowing that you are much more knowledgeable on the political side than he is.

“I never thought I would have to curtsy to anyone at my wedding, you admit, Running your finger along the names of the various retrial families on the list before you look back up at Annette and Amelia. “Do we think any of the royals will actually show, or just send a nice card?”

“They might arrange an upcoming tour of the US to coincide.” Annette tells you with a smile. “Although you could cause tongue to wag by not curtsying.”

“I don’t object to it,” you clarify immediately, thinking of all the scuttlebutt that would happen if you didn’t do something as silly as curtsy. “It sounds like a cute photo op actually. The First Princess and the Actual Princess.”

“I think I would like to see that.” Marcus agrees with a fond smile. “It would be a beautiful photo op.”

“You know what that makes you?” The sly grin on your lips for your fiancé isn’t subtle, nor is the sparkle in your eyes. “Prince Charming.”

He snorts and shrugs, “I’ve never denied that.” He teases playfully.

“Some will accept and some will not.” Amelia Sharma smiles, mostly because she can tell you’re nervous. “But those who will souls be given a bit more attention than your standard courtesy invitation.”

“It doesn’t matter who is there.” Marcus tells you. “All that matters is that those we love are there, celebrating our happiness. Everyone else is just white noise.”

“We just want the flowers inside to complement the fact that our ceremony is being held in the Rose Garden.” It feels like a foreign language to you, talking to this florist, and you curse the fact that Marcus had been called out of the country on a case as you sit here with your wedding planning the florist’s shop wishing you knew what the hell you were talking about.

Marcus bites his lip, his alarm going off to remind him of the flower appointment. “Excuse me, I need to make a call back to the States.” Interpol doesn’t need to know that it’s not to his boss, so Marcus closes the door on the small office he’s been allowed to use and pulls out his phone.

It’s a miracle when your phone goes off in the middle of trying to find your voice with the florist. Oh thank god, you think with a sigh. “This is my fiancé,” you explain, and set your phone in the table in front of you to answer it. “Hi honey! You have perfect timing.”

“Have you already met with the florist?” He asks, happy to hear your voice and he thinks he hears a little bit of relief in your tone.

“We all just sat down,” you tell him, wishing you could just reach through the phone and hug him. “I was just telling Theresa about the Rose Garden, and Amelia is here with us as well.”

“So I’ve been doing some research….” Marcus admits with a smile in his tone.

“Oh?” Theresa, the florist, sounds impressed that a groom would be doing more research about flowers than the bride.

“We have colors for our wedding. Navy and gold, so I was thinking that we use marigolds, azure aster and baby’s breath for the bouquets.” He suggests. “They complement the roses in the garden and still have their own beauty.”

“We can certainly start there,” the florist hums, nodding along and starting to scribble down in her notebook. “We’ll get some height out of other flowers in the same color scheme, but this is a beautiful beginning. Bringing real color to the palette is much more lively than working with a monochromatic look and I think you’ll be very pleased with it.”

“What do you think, sweetheart?” He hopes he hasn’t overstepped because you and he hadn’t had a long discussion about flowers yet.

“I think it’s an utter relief,” you promise him with a laugh. “I had absolutely no idea of how to approach flowers and you’ve solved it in one go.”

“I spent the flight hooked up to the WiFi and researching flowers.” He admits with a laugh. “I just didn’t want you to have to think about this alone. If you hate it, that’s fine, but let the florist put something together like that to see, hum?”

“I’m absolutely on board.” And relieved — absolutely, entirely relieved. “You didn’t happen to have a thought about my bouquet, did you?”

“Actually…” Marcus chuckles and shrugs even though no one can see him. “I thought you could have something non-traditional and yet it would be a quiet statement in official portraits. What if you were to carry a bouquet of olive branches?”

“I could certainly use olive branches as greenery in your bouquet instead of the usual accents,” the florist offers, interested by the choice.

“You’re thinking of the official seal, aren’t you, love?” You ask Marcus over the phone, and hum slightly at the idea. It’s a nice homage without going crazy. “What if we used olive branches and laurel branches as the greenery for our flowers?” You offer after a moment. “Laurel are in the Seal of the President.”

“It would be a statement.” He agrees, having thought laurels might have been too bold, but the two of them together might be the ticket. “Especially since your mother is working hard to achieve peace.”

“And the day is a peaceful one.” Amelia smiles at the sentiment, nodding in approval. “After the turmoil you dealt with early on, it will be nice to have your day for happiness.”

“Yes.” Turmoil, you think with a polite smile. That’s one word for it. “Maybe for my bouquet we can use those greens and an assortment of white flowers? White versions of the things that we’re using in the other arrangements, and of course roses and dahlias and camellias. Things like that?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Marcus promises, smiling softly as you start to interject your own thoughts into the process.

“And what about the boutonnieres?” The florist is now taking rapid notes. “How many members of your wedding party will there be?”

“Honey?” Marcus speaks again. “Did we decide on four or five?”

“We said four, didn’t we?” You look down at the phone as though you were simply looking at him in conversation. “You have Juan, Alex, Leo, and Clark?” Originally Marcus had asked his father if he would want to be a groomsman, but after a long discussion Matthew had insisted that Marcus choose his friends that are nearby and truly enjoy himself.

“That’s right.” Marcus huffs. “You’re completely right, I forgot. There would be five total, four for the groomsmen and I would like a boutonniere that matches the bride’s bouquet. I think there should be a subtle difference between the arrangements, right?”

“Absolutely.” The florist nods, continuing to scribble. “I can do further simplified pieces for the fathers and the ring bearer if you would like?”

“Definitely.” It sounds very sweet, actually, to have everyone unified like that. “Our ring bearer is an adult, for the record. A very close friend. So the only child in the wedding party is our flower girl.”

“Will the child be holding a bouquet as well?” She asks and for some reason that makes Marcus laugh through the phone.

“Our goddaughter will only be a year old, so I’m not planning on testing her coordination with a bouquet and a basket of flower petals,” you answer as kindly as you can with Marcus giggling over the phone.

“Sorry, I’m just imagining Constance flapping the bouquet in Malachi’s face as he carries her down the aisle.” He snorts.

“Honestly?” You giggle right along with him but offer your florist and wedding planner an apologetic grin. “That alone might make it worthwhile.”

“I’m here!” Sydney opens the door three inches and shoves her lips inside, the days of just popping in without announcing are over now that Marcus lives here. She’s not willing to risk walking in on something she shouldn’t see. “Put your clothes on.”

“Marcus is out with my Dad,” you huff at your best friend, but laugh anyway. “I’m fully dressed and presentable. But don’t come in, we need to scoot out if we’re going to meet Selena, our sisters, and my Mom at the dress shop.”

“Sorry.” She knows she’s the one running behind. Getting out the door has become practically impossible with Constance here now. “Let’s go.”

“Honey do not even apologize.” You grab your coat and grin to find Agent Bailey already ready to go.

“I’ll drive,” she offers, shooing you toward the elevator. “You two enjoy your gossip and baby pictures on the ride.”

“Thanks.” She flashes the agent a grin. “I only took ninety-seven photos this morning. Quite modest.”

“I can’t believe it’s dress shopping time already.” As the three of you head down in the elevator, you snag Sydney’s arm and tug her close in your excitement. The January chill has done nothing to quell your excitement, but it does mean you’re definitely wearing knee high boots with your plaid dress today instead of heels. “This dress shop is amazing and I’m so excited to see what you guys like.”

“How have your fittings been going with your grandmother’s dress?” She asks, knowing how careful you are being with altering the heirloom. You had taken Junie with you to make sure she approved.

“It’s going to be pretty perfect.” The elevator ride evaporates on a sigh and a laugh, and in mere minutes you’re sliding into Agent Bailey’s car. “It will be tea length, so the mission is to find dresses for the four of you that are the same or shorter.”

“You might be the first bride in history that wants her bridesmaids to have a sexier dress than she does.” Sydney teases, making Agent Bailey chuckle softly as she pulls out of the inn’s driveway.

"Knee length dresses can be perfectly modest," you huff, but you know she's right. "The place we're going is run by a pair of cousins, and they make modern interpretations of vintage dresses. I think we're going to find something fantastic. At least...I hope we will."

“I know we will.” She predicts. “This wedding planning has been super easy. Who could have guessed that Marcus would have been so engaged in the entire process?” Her comment is sarcastic because all of them knew it, but it’s still fun to point out that your soul mate is also carrying around bridal magazines in his briefcase.

"Actually?" Glancing over at her in the car, you smirk to hold back a joyous giggle. "He's the one who had the idea for the bridesmaid dresses that I think I'm going to go with."

The little dress shop in downtown DC is just that — little — but the ladies who run it are endlessly sweet and accommodating. Your group just about fills the entire shop and there are Secret Service agents to boot, so the shop owners have elected to have their place open late today to accommodate your group as a private party.

It might actually be the most fun you e had with any wedding planning trip ever. You and Sydney join your mother, June, Selena, and Sydney’s sister AnnaLeigh to round out your bridesmaids— on top of having your wedding planner present — and everyone has mimosas to make the whole thing even more fun.

“Have you decided what color you would like the bridesmaids’ dresses, or are you still going to choose what you like best?” Your mother asks, happy to be able to be here after all the meetings this morning. Nothing but a national crisis would have prevented her from coming.

“I’m hoping we can find dresses for everyone that work in navy blue, but if we can’t then that’s fine.” You’re not going to be a bridezilla about your wedding colors. The groomsmen have all already ordered suits in navy with a gold pocket square so your colors are represented there. “I want you all to wear things that make you feel beautiful. Marcus had a thought that I agree with — that we should pick a color, a fabric type, and a length that everyone can agree on. And then everyone can have a dress in their own style that coordinates instead of completely matching.”

“Ohhhh interesting.” Junie lights up and nods. “I think that would be great, although, there’s a lot of beautiful things here.”

“If you all fall in love with the same dress, then that’s fine,” you look around at your bridesmaids with an utter softness in your expression, just glad to have you friends and your sister here. “But I’m not going to force you to match.”

Sydney smirks at Junie, both of them aware of the conversation that had been had without you about how you were all going to match for this wedding.

“Why don’t we start with the navy blue options and see what we like?” Your consultant today is one of the shop’s owners and she is nothing but smiles with the large group in her shop.

“Of course.” It’s absolutely thrilling to have the President and her daughter in their shop and the owners are here to personally oversee the day, giving you the privacy you need without the additional staff here. “We will pull all the styles we have available and we can order any size needed and make alterations.”

“Do you guys want to do a fashion show?” It’s a fully rhetorical question. You know these four women and you know they absolutely live for frivolous shopping trips and the endorphins of being silly with friends. This trip might be for a real event, but it still has that air of frivolity that shopping for prom dresses did back when you were teenagers. “I’m going to sit with Mom and Amelia and we’ll go through the best of the navy blue choices first?”

“Yes!” Junie immediately volunteers, shooting up out of her seat in excitement. “I put on my good bra too.”

"Come on, Junebug." Sydney tugs your baby sister toward the racks of dresses and nudges you firmly in the other direction. "Sit," she urges you. "Drink. Chat. Let us do the work for once."

"Oo!" AnnaLeigh, already in the racks of dresses, is gasping over a discovery. "I found one with a lace top!"

She pulls the dress out with a flourish and four bridesmaids immediately coo over the pretty dress. “I think you should try it on first.” Junie tells her.

“Everybody picks a different dress and we let Birdie pick, right?” Selena murmurs, her eyes already sliding to a satin swing dress that looks straight out of the 1950s.

“Agreed.” Sydney sees where Selena is heading and her own browsing bypasses that and goes directly for a beautiful sleeveless number.

It takes several minutes to get everyone coordinated, but when all four of your bridesmaids disappear into changing rooms there is a collective squealing and another moment’s pause before they emerge again in all their glory.

“Oh my…” your mother whispers, her gaze full of love and adoration for the vision in front of her. She loves Junie with all her heart, Sydney is the closest thing to a child she has beyond her biological children and of course she adores Syd’s sister and Selena. “You all look perfect.”

“Oh my god!” Knowing that your friends have excellent taste might have been a little bit of a tactic on your part, and setting them loose to pick the first round of dresses was a fantastic choice. “Okay, you all look amazing. But how do you feel? Comfortable? Like you can dance and move and sit without trouble?”

Every woman starts swinging the dresses around playful and moving. Junie and Selena dance to no music and all of them laugh.

“What about sitting?” Choosing between any of the four dresses they’ve chosen will be impossible unless you put on a critical eye. The dress Junie has on is the right length on her, but your petite little sister is considerably shorter than the other three. And the dress can’t be elongated to fit them.

There are chairs and all four of them sit down with great aplomb, grinning happily. The dresses feel right.

“I swear, if you all tell me you found the perfect dresses first thing…” Looking between them, it certainly seems that way. As though they have all magically found perfection without any effort at all.

“What? That we have time for you to try on your dress with the alterations started?” Junie challenges with a grin. “Don’t you think you should see what a rough look like it will be, all together?”

“Is it safe?” You have to let the shopkeeper make the call on that decision. The reason you found this shop was that they specialize in working with vintage pieces as well as selling vintage-inspired designs, so it had been sort of a one stop shop for you in terms of planning.

“Yes.” She smiles at the wistful hope in your eyes and knows that she can’t say no. The hem has been pinned and as long as you aren’t careless with it, it will be good to get a final fitting with it. “We can go get it from the back.”

“I really didn’t expect to put it on today.” Which is evidenced by the fact that you didn’t even think to wear a strapless bra today, but it doesn’t matter. It will be beautiful regardless.

Junie smirks and shakes her head. “You have to.” She insists. “One picture with all of us right now.”

“Do you guys really love these dresses? You’re not just saying that?” Looking at the four of them, you can’t help but get a touch misty-eyed as Selena pulls you up on the dais with them to look in the mirror together. “Because you all look stunning, but you really don’t have to pick after the first round.”

“I love mine.” Selena snorts. “This is the one I want.” The others hum and nod in agreement. “Yeah, this is the one for me.”

“What kind of jewelry are you thinking?” AnnaLeigh asks, gleefully swishing her skirt in the mirror.

“I was thinking…pearls maybe?” Meeting all of their eyes in the mirror, you have four beaming smiles gleaming back at you. “But the other wedding color is gold, so maybe…maybe pearls and gold? But those are going to be gifts for you four. Thank you gifts, for being a part of all of this.”

“You don’t have to give us anything.” Sydney automatically protests, but she knows you will do it anyway.

“No.” You know that, but you squeeze your best friend to your side. “But I want to.”

“But we just want to lodge a formal protest.” Her sister chimes in with a grin. “So we are going to buy our bridesmaids dresses.”

“Absolutely not.” Shaking your head at that adamantly, all four of them shoot you a stern look in the mirror. “You guys, no,” you insist, nudging them all. “Get your own shoes. Whatever height you like. Be comfortable and pick something fun. Gold or blue, you guys decide as a group. But…Mom already offered to pay for the bridesmaids’ dresses.”

“You’re no fun.” Sydney huffs, turning towards the President and rolling her eyes at your mother. “The presidential purse, hum?”

“The regular purse,” your mother laughs. You’ve allowed her this one little thing to do personally, while most of the wedding expenses are being covered by a combined force of contributions. “You all look stunning, and I want the bragging right of saying I got all of these beautiful dresses for you.”

“Mrs. Pike?” The shop owner has a little habit of calling all the brides by the future marital name and it makes you beam. “We are ready for you to try on the dress.”

“Here goes nothing.” You grin at your friends in the mirror and slip away to change, practically floating with the glow of two little words. Mrs. Pike. In just eight months, that is exactly who you will be.

______

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #PrincessPike2018 #PikeWedding2018 #WhiteHouseWedding2018

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tuliptired · 2 months

Note

anything w egon and ta!reader 🙏🙏🙏

Southern Skies

Pairing: Egon Spengler/TA!Reader

no more fics abt kids for 10 years cuz I'm scared yall can tell when I'm ovulating

Better formatting on Ao3!!

The newspaper was spread out over the table, frankly ignored as all four men were scrambling to get breakfast in themselves before they headed out to a call scheduled painfully early. Egon paused, hoping to get a sip of coffee without it spilling over onto his underclothes, when he spotted it- an editorial that had consulted you for a professional opinion. Mug barely to his lips as he skimmed it, Ray appeared in front of him, ready to go.

“Something interesting?” he inquired, attempting to read upside down. Ray opened his suit a tad in hopes to get some air. “Jeez, it’s hot today.”

“It’s that time.” Egon’s own words making him start to wonder something, forgetting about the mug, guessing that it’d just have to go cold if they wanted to get there in a timely manner. “Do you recognize the name?”

Ray got a proper look, squinting and fishing for an answer in his head, shaking it twice. “Not really. You know my memories’ shot,” he patted Egon on the shoulder, all the men filing out and down the steps.

Ray’s memory must’ve been crushed, ran over, and spat upon- Egon could remember like it was yesterday. He wasn’t complaining, really, content with the recollection being something he could keep just for himself as he broke into a small and selfish smile behind his friends’ backs.

Christine brought eyes to the clouds in exasperation “You don’t know how awkward it is to see a clone of your boyfriend everywhere,” she complained as you headed back to your dormitory.

“Side-effects of dating a twin.” You let out a small laugh at her long-distance plight with your books stacked in your arms. It was nice and bright out, the perfect afternoon for a good, long book, or an equally as lengthy nap. “Are you at least, like, friends?”

She sighed, pushing open the complex’s doors. “A bit. We’re gonna have to be, anyway.”

“It’s not all bad. No need for those pictures he sends-”

“I’m not listening !” Christine whined, squeezing her eyes shut and pushing manicured nails into her ears while you snickered devilishly. “I can’t believe you saw those.”

You put the key to your space into the door. “Relax, I’m not reading your mail. Just stop leaving nasty letters on the coffee table.” Christine groaned in embarrassment, sinking into the armchair you got in a yard sale all the way back in winter.

“Speaking of,” she toyed with a fraying edge of the lime green fabric, “He called this morning. He’s still coming- just thought we should bring a few friends.”

You made a skeptic noise as you started on lunch for you and your roommate. “Ouf. During your big reunion trip that you can’t stop talking about?” you asked over your shoulder, washing some fruit.

“That’s the one.” Christine sat up, accidently pulling some of the thread with her. “I suggested it. I just thought he deserved to see them, after being away so long.” You traded your skepticism for understanding, placing grapes in a strainer. “What I’m trying to say…”

“I would love to take a road trip with strangers while you make out in the front seat. It’d be an honor, actually.”

Christine snuck a few grapes and popped them in her mouth. “You’re not as distant as you think. It can’t be that bad- I’ll be there!” she punctuated herself by stealing another handful. “What happened to our summer plans?”

“If I’m only being half sarcastic,” you ended up giving her the entire colander, “wouldn’t I be intruding?” She sat on the counter, legs of her jeans swinging back and forth.

“Not at all. I’d like you to meet him before the wedding,” Christine teased you. When you weren’t entirely receptive, she poked you in the side. “If you end up with the brother, our kids’ll pretty much be siblings.”

“Not how genetics works. We’d have to be twins, too.”

“We practically are.”

“Oh, of course.” you joked as she turned you both towards the mirror on the wall. You watched her hopeful face in the mirror. Why was she always the one encouraging you to try new things, anyway? These next few months won’t last forever, admittedly, and soon you’ll be put into the real world where you can’t just drop everything for a trip out with other young people. Plus, you needed to know if her boyfriend was as cute as she said. “When do we leave?” you finally caved.

Christine jumped up, full of excitement as she dragged you to the closet. “Oh, I have to help you pack!”

“Why would I wanna do that?” Egon said into the phone, slipping into casual speech with his brother on the other end when Peter and Ray walked in, back from their lunch. “I don’t like being in a car with you on a regular day.”

“Because I’m coming home and you wanna see me,” Elon answered, unaffected by his twin. Egon sighed into the receiver at his happy tone. Out of all the things he’s had nightmares about, being stuck in a hot car with his brother and his girlfriend was the most hellish.

“Do they know you’re coming?”

“The last time I surprised Mom she told everyone I died. I attended my own funeral. Hey, you could bring Pete and Ray along. It’s a whole thing- Chris offered.”

“What about us?” Peter said over Egon’s shoulders, making him flinch away from his friend.

“Wanna take a trip to the shore?” Elon raised his voice so Peter could hear him, Egon flinching in the opposite direction as his ears were assaulted on either side.

Ray dropped what he was doing, now intrigued. “A road trip?” he smiled. “We’re going!”

Egon handed his roommates the phone, since they were so interested in a little excursion with his brother. What was it about the concept that sounded so fun to those three? He could drive anywhere at any time without it having to be a “thing”.

“Oh man,” Ray covered the receiver, “apparently there’s a campsite with the clearest sky for stargazing,” he beamed.

“Get pictures for me,” Egon said plainly, turning his chair back to his desk. Peter didn’t like that, apparently, spinning his friend back around with his hands on his hips.

“You’re not staying here to rot while we’re off kissing girls and looking at space.”

He ignored the pseudo-vulgarity. “I’ll manage. Besides, I have work to get ready for.” Not entirely untrue, he did have an internship coming up- they all did, just not until much later in the season. Ray frowned, seemingly catching the man in his half-lie.

“That’s so far away, Spengs. If you do this, we’ll never ask for anything ever again.” Ray reasoned, grinning hopefully. Egon sat back in thought, under a spotlight shined on him by his two friends. His legs would get tired. He probably couldn’t wear a sweater in the heat. He’d have to sleep in a dingy motel at some point. But- he’d get a rare chance to actually see the night sky without light pollution. If it rained, he’d get a moment for fungus hunting. And maybe he did miss his brother. Maybe.

“When do we leave?”

You barely had time to catch the bag your friend nearly dropped before she was sprinting towards a parked light blue car by the curb with its trunk popped open. As you got closer to the little congregation, your mouth fell open as you got a real look at the man she was clinging to.

Holy shit . This was gonna be so much more fun than you thought.

“Lonnie!” She hugged him tightly, peppering lipstick covered kisses all over his face. The face you’d come to know quite well, actually.

“Hey, Chris,” he smiled dopily. It was jarring, seeing that face smile so earnestly. They were the exact same person, down to the length and style of their hair, height- if you were crazy enough, you’d ask if they wore the same frames. And one of them was smiling? You had assumed that everyone in the Spengler family was a sea anemone. He, Elon, held onto her waist, before catching sight of you standing on the sidewalk. “Hi,” he grinned warmly, “have you met everyone?”

You couldn’t answer before he took the reins, introducing the unfamiliar men who you had only just noticed. Elon exuded being a natural conversationalist. How ironic? “That’s Peter. Psychology.”

You wondered why he was so familiar until it finally clicked. “I know you. There’s a girl in psych who said you slept over and stole her silk robe.”

“I can’t help it if I look better in it.”

Elon stifled a laugh- that girl was good friends with Christine. “Ray’s in engineering,” he managed to get out.

“I like your jacket,” you complimented, amused at the fashion choice in such unrelenting heat.

“Thanks,” Ray cuffed his sleeves happily, “I like your lack of a jacket.”

You laughed at that, adjusting the bag on your back getting heavier and heavier by the second. “It’s 80 degrees!”

“Car ACs are no joke.”

Elon tried peeking around the back of the car. “I’m sure you’ve met my brother. He’s just a ray of sunshine.”

“Sure.” You smiled inwardly, watching Egon arrange luggage like there was a science to it- which, there probably was. You headed back there, slinging a backpack off your shoulder. “Isn’t this fun?” you spoke lowly. He looked miserable, but in a humorous way. At least, humorous for you.

He didn’t answer, placing it in the trunk silently. You placed Christine’s on the roomy felt flooring next to a bit of camping gear before you spoke again, unbothered by his petulance. “I didn’t know you had a twin.”

Egon moved her bag, the spot you chose apparently not optimal enough for him. “I’d consider him more of a parasite.” That made you laugh as he shut the hatch, but didn’t lock it, the latching mechanism seemingly unfamiliar to him. You reached down, doing it for him before leaving him behind to join the rest of your new friends.

“At least he’s a cute parasite.”

Elon held the door open for his girlfriend. “You wanna sit upfront?” Elon asked before she shook her head, climbing into the window seat in the back.

Christine pulled her seatbelt across her chest. “I’ll get sick. Y/N, sit back here with me.” she patted the spot next to her. Elon nodded, getting into the driver’s seat while you slid in beside your friend, cherishing the space you probably won’t get again for the next couple of hours.

“Ray? Will you be my co-captain?” Elon starts the ignition, cranking his window down a crack. Ray got in the passenger’s seat enthusiastically, almost hitting his head on the roof.

“Do I!” he was virtually buzzing as he took in all the bells and whistles in front of him. You weren’t exactly a car person, but you could say this one was objectively pretty hip- even the leather felt nice underneath you. Peter and Egon filed in next, Elon pulling off from the sidewalk as Ray couldn’t contain himself, starting again.

He ran a careful finger across the dash. “Where’d you get this from, anyway?”

“I cashed in a couple favors, traded in the beetle,” Elon paused at a crosswalk.

Peter hummed. “Didn’t know they drove like this in yodieland.”

Elon put a finger up in defense. “I got this ‘cause of my exceptional business skills.”

“Just say you’re a bad dealer.”

Eventually, your little group made it out onto the highway, surrounded by high heels and even higher trees. You had the little book you had snuck in cracked open, but there really was no need. The car was full of excellent talkers, dissolving any previous fears about if it would ever get too quiet or awkward. Excellent talkers, excluding Egon. A silent part of yourself cursed Christine for picking the window, placing you in between herself and the psychologist, away from the victim of your tortures. But, your read and your position were forgotten about, book spread open and face down on your lap as Elon shared a riveting story about roller skating.

“Now that you mention skating,” Peter turned to you and Christine, her legs thrown over your own, “you’d never believe me if I told you how good Egon is.”

You sat up, somehow even more interested. “No way.” you flashed the man over Peter’s shoulder a wicked smile as he offishly avoided your gaze.

Peter nodded. If there was trickery in his eyes, you’d have missed it. “Yes way. Absolute god, too.” Elon and Ray made a few noises of agreement up front.

“I’ll have to see it sometime,” you say as innocently as possible, enjoying the sight of Egon’s cheeks turning pink under the attention. “No need to be embarrassed- I think it’s cool.” you sounded genuine to everyone who wasn’t either of you, leaning forward to catch his eye.

It twitched as he searched you, just like it did in your lecture hall. Who said a classroom could only have four walls?

“Not embarrassed for me,” he kept eye-contact, “embarrassed for you when you fall.”

There was a chorus of ooo-ing as you slumped back in your seat- not embarrassed yourself, but satisfied with his ability to get you back, even when it wasn’t over a work of fiction. “Very funny,” you started, needing an iron will to refer to him with his first name as to not make things look weird, “Egon.”

At some point, Christine had her face pressed to the glass while you were stuck in midday traffic- bumper to bumper. “Check out the moose!” she gasped, shaking your shoulder.

“Moose don’t live down here,” Elon spared a look while the car inched forward. You put your play down, squinting outside with her.

“Those are two bucks.”

“And they’re-”

The car suddenly gained speed as traffic lessened, giving the two not-moose their privacy.

At some point, as the sun was getting ready to set, the car found itself on another long stretch of highway, no other vehicle in sight as you made your way around winding roads lined with yellow-green. Elon must’ve noticed something, or someone, with their thumb out when he decided to slow down, easing on the brakes as he pulled onto the shoulder.

The hitchhiker spoke into his half closed driver side window, “Hey, man. I just need a ride to somewhere with a bus stop.” Elon nodded understandably, saying something about checking the tires before you’d go.

“Try to make a decision before I get back,” Elon spoke softly as to not be overheard by your prospective guest.

Egon definitely would’ve rather kept going, but Ray was the first to speak. “Probably won’t see anyone again for miles,” he presumed, turning in the passenger’s seat.

“He can’t have any ill will. Hard to kill all six of us.” you offered, not to Egon’s surprise. He watched as you turned to your friend, tapping her boot against the floor. “Christine? What d’you think?”

She kept her eyes straight ahead, arms crossed. “Whatever gets us to the rest stop the fastest.”

“Don’t worry. Just don’t think about the beach. Or the river down there. Or drinking wate-”

“Be quiet , Peter!” she fussed. He apologized when she shifted around where she was sitting, checking how much progress her boyfriend had made on whatever he was doing.

Ray unbuckled his seatbelt. “He should sit up front,” he started, before Peter put a hand out.

“And where will you go?”

He gave his friend a bemused look, cocking an eyebrow. “I’ll get back there with you guys,” he said as if he was doubting his answer.

“With that butt? There’s no space.” Egon could tell you were holding in your own amusement before your own friend spoke up, foot tapping evolving into knee bouncing.

Christine squeezed your shoulder like it was a stressball. “I’d let you sit on me, but I think I’d piss my pants if you did.”

“Glad I’m being thought of,” you kept your eyes ahead as she once did to avoid being the next puzzle piece for this little dilemma. When you heard Elon approach the car again, with no verdict reached, you sighed heavily, unbuckling yourself and scooting forward. “You don’t mind?” his wide eyes caught sight of your hand on the frame of the door. He’d say no, make you sit on the roof; that’d keep you from bothering him. So why’d he say yes?

He thought he was done with this. The things you’d do, the things you’d say- he thought all of that was done, at least until school started again and he was locked into the same routine. But now, you were on him, and it wasn’t explicit but it felt that way and he couldn’t miss the look his twin gave him before he finally decided to drive and the car was moving . He got insanely self aware insanely quickly, cursing whoever it was that convinced him to wear a dingier pair of pants.

Elon couldn’t have been more careless a driver, bumping into potholes and sticks and whatever other debris littered the road ahead as he approached a town. He only had a second to burn a stare into the rearview mirror, before his brother stopped a little too hard, sending you sliding down the length of his bent thighs and into his torso.

Egon was absolutely burning up, hands not knowing where to stay as he unconsciously encompassed the middle of your back with both of his palms, sitting up uncomfortably. “Sorry” was all she could mutter as his heart clamored to the front of his chest.

Except, you looked back at him. Smiling . “What’re you sorry for?” you asked sweetly, quiet enough so only he could hear. This was his affliction acting up again, head swimming without coherent thought. He knew that this was nothing but your poison, giving him a perfectly reasonable reaction to the toxin. Like Claudius and Hamlet. God, he was thinking like you.

So Egon didn’t say anything, planting two hands on your waist like he’d seen his brother do to Christine. He could be poisonous, too.

The car sputtered to a stop at a larger gas station outside a little town, forever tainted by the sight of Christine running inside before she could have an accident. Peter offered to fill up the tank as the hitchhiker made his way to the bus shelter, and everyone emptying out the car left only you and Egon.

“Thanks,” you grinned, pinching the apple of his blank face before you climbed off, following them all. He knew he’d rather stay alone in the car, but Peter had yet to bring the last 8 minutes up, and he was most likely close to breaking.

Egon gave Ray a half-hearted thanks as the interior gave him much needed relief from the sun, even if it was in the form of a handful of desktop fans. He wandered off from you and Ray as you stocked up on campfire-food, his eyes drawn to the knick-knacks for sale that lined the walls of pure dark wood, wherever there wasn’t an ancient looking antique mounted. A charming kind of hospitality, Egon thought as he passed another shelf full of anything anyone would stock up on.

There was a lunch counter facing a large window that gave patrons a wide view of the orange sunset. But, he wasn’t so much drawn to it as he was to the glass classes full of confections and pastry that garnished the benchtop, marked with differing prices. Egon’s stomach sang at the idea of a slice of cake. When was the last time he had a good dessert?

“Huh. Pegged you more of a vanilla-guy.” Egon jumped. You had to stop popping up everywhere. “Let me buy it for you.” you kept your eyes on the crystalware.

“Buy an entire chocolate cake?”

You shrugged, arms full of packets of graham crackers. “Sure, if you promise to go halfsies.”

Egon couldn’t think of much as you started towards the cashier, simply following you. “Why?” was the only word that came to mind. You stilled, sighing before keeping on.

“Because I find you so agreeable. Now, get my wallet for me.” And, naturally, it had to be in your back pocket.

You held the wax-paper wrapped one-tier in awe, both of you fairly hypnotized at opaque swirls of brown icing pressed against foggy parchment. You handed it off, telling him to hide it while you used the restroom. Egon hardly had a moment to take anything else in before you scuttled out the family bathroom, door shut harshly with your back.

“What?” He noted the quick rise and fall of your chest as you took a few steps away.

“They really missed each other.”

You all met Peter with bags full of marshmallow and chocolate when the stranger’s greyhound pulled up, coughing out exhaust. Elon quickly ducked into the glove compartment, springing out with a small baggie that his brother missed when he bounded over to the man. From this distance, the backpacker seemed elated as Elon returned, looking pleased with himself.

“What was that?” Ray placed the last paper sack into the trunk, away from the windows.

“Expanding my business to the east coast,” he answered confidently. His eyes went round at the sight of a police trooper against the tangerine horizon, ushering everyone back inside so they could get back on their way.

It was past dark when they pulled into the parking lot of a state campsite, virtually all for themselves. Egon felt out of place when he gandered at his reflection in the mirror of the visitor’s bathroom, t-shirt and Peter’s lounge pants replacing his normal pajamas. He was starting to miss his cap and gown- it certainly would’ve protected against prospective ticks better than the short man’s bottoms leaving his ankles bare.

Elon drove out to the lake, where Ray was put in charge of starting a fire and assembling smores. At some point during the little mass, you had stopped him passing one to Egon insisting that you see the inside. You crinkle your nose, before grabbing the bag of marshmallows and handing him one on a stick.

“How do you eat yours?” Your tone was professorial, as if you weren’t trying to interrogate him on how he toasted a mini cube of gelatin and sugar. Egon plucked it from you, holding it over the flame for all of three seconds. You made a face, taking it back. “There’s a right way to do it wrong.”

He watched as you let it burn completely charcoal black. Before he could refuse, you put a hand up, deep in concentration. Your fingers pinched the burnt outside, meticulously sliding it off to reveal a gooey, white center which you haphazardly rolled onto your palm after sampling the caramelized shell. “Try,” you held it out to him. Egon made a face in turn, silently refusing. He cowered, attempting to nix you when you climbed over your stump and onto his, eventually forcing the treat into his mouth. Reluctantly, he chewed, and found it wasn’t all that bad- if not a bit hot. He caught his brother’s eye as you sat back, licking the residue off your fingers, and the warmth and smoke of the fire caught up with him as he frowned. This was not enjoyable. This was the poisoned goblet

When the fire was out, they could really enjoy the night sky above them. It was an inky oil spill, dappled with the light of soft stars in an uncorrupted plane, vast and never ending as it rolled on in every possible direction. “It’s beautiful,” Christine marveled, curled up into her boyfriend while they sat on the grass.

Egon kept his eyes upward to avoid the sight of Elon’s fingers dancing along the hem of her pajamas. He muttered something about a better place to see it all, and they were off somewhere in the sloping hillside. Your knees were tucked into your chest when Ray leaned over, smiling.

“Have you ever seen stars like this?” You broke out into your own smile, shaking your head.

“Never,” you clenched and unclenched your hands, appealing smaller. Egon could feel that pull in between his eyes, that involuntary darkness in his face. But it wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at his friend. Where was this coming from?

Peter stood then, shaking refuse from himself. “C’mon, Ray. I’ll grab the camera and we can go up there for some good pictures.”

Ray stayed sitting with his legs crossed. “Oh, it’s okay. You can see it great down here.”

“Oh, you’re so much better with the camera than me,” Peter persisted.

“I wouldn’t say that-” Ray started to wave his friend off, before he was hoisted to his feet and led off into the darkness somewhere. That left only you and him.

You rose when they disappeared over the trees, unlocking the trunk and propping it open as far as it could go. After clearing the way from stray bags and luggage, you procured a blanket that hung over the backseat, draping in across the bed and settling in. Egon looked on stiffly, before you touched the space next to yourself. “Because you don’t like the grass,” you said simply.

He sat, legs dangling over the edge of the car ungracefully. You didn’t seem to mind. “Isn’t it perfect?” you venerated heavenward. Egon took in the celestial body, marbling in a color he had only seen on your sweaters. Other hues swirled and mixed with each other, creating a depth that he was sure would match your corneas. Airglow flowed out from within Andromeda, streaks of energy peeking and hiding within a dark backdrop that mirrored the flow of your hair. The stars speckled everything in sight, being everything and nothing at the same time, content with vacuity and shining in abundance. He nodded, transfixed.

“I never realized that stars weren’t just…dots. Now they’re in front of me, and they’re things .” you expressed, attempting to trace them into vaster shapes. “It’s a shame the moon isn’t out.”

Egon did the same, scanning for a constellation. “Burning groups of hydrogen turning into helium, letting out electromagnetic radiation.”

You twinkled. “Show-off.” You leaned back on your hands, before sitting back up, digging around and emerging with the cake from earlier. “You hid it back here?” you judged him playfully, stealing two forks from the glove compartment.

“One for you,” you pressed a fork down the middle of the, surprisingly undamaged, dessert, “and one for me.” Egon was wary as you took a piece from his half, bringing it to his lips. His pupils crossed as you held it between his eyes, and he held back as if it was venom. He took the fork from you instead, whatever fluttery feeling that was happening in his abdomen flying away.

You took your own bite, and nearly melted. “What’s in this?” you said around a mouthful of cake. Egon savored some of the pleasant, treacly chocolate flavor.

“Cherries,” Egon deduced, the both of you going back for more. At some point, you had clutched his arm, eyes wide and glowing.

“A shooting star!” you pointed, the streak of light soaring through space for a mere few more seconds before it faded as quick as it appeared. “Did you make a wish?”

He sat unaffectedly, arm tingling where you had touched him. “An archaic superstition.”

You raised a brow, sitting back again. “You believe in ghosts and possession, but not wishing on stars?”

Egon didn’t have an answer, and a silence fell when you brought yourself back to the cosmos. “If I had the time, I’d look more into astronomy.” He didn’t know what forced that out, perhaps it was the vulnerability of megacosm enveloping him.

“If you had time?”

“Astrology, if I had an eternity.” Egon paused, when you let out a noise of acknowledgment. “Its connections with the paranormal are worth researching, however frivolous.” In the corner of his vision, you were sitting and staring. Eyelids low, gaze burning and expression unguarded. Poison.

“You’re not just a robotic physicist.”

He was lost for words. “To who?”

“To me, at least.” Egon’s eyes studied every bit of your face, like a robotic physicist. Eyes with a depth that matched the hues of the night sky. Hair flowing like the airglow of space. There was a beating in his ears, drowning out sounds of rustling grasses and a rippling lake in the wind. If the universe had a tangible sound, it’d be this. And it sounded like your breathing. It all created a new layer of confusion for him. This reverie was voluntary. So why could he see ether within you? The medley of matter and the atemporal shine of stars?

An indecent noise pulled him from his rumination, though it did nothing to raise his temperature even higher than it already was. “They must’ve really missed each other,” you remarked, climbing over the backseat to grab your toiletries. Egon frowned, watching your figure retreat in the direction of the visitor’s bathroom. He only followed in case you’d get lost. But his insides still felt stark.

Egon woke when your head hit the trunk door, and you winced in pain. He sat up, not quite remembering electing to sleep in the commodious back seat, but recognizing that he was no longer in the middle of a park. He clutched the blanket pooled around his middle closer to himself, feeling like an indecent woman as you got the door open. This was a parking lot. To a diner.

“Well, don’t you two look nice.”

“You left us,” you stood at your friend’s table, not nearly as chastened at being in the middle of a busy restaurant in your sleep clothes as Egon was.

Christine smiled apologetically, putting her mug down, “Sorry, you just looked so peaceful.”

You both returned to the table after freshening up in the bathroom equally as eager to eat the breakfast that was ordered in your absence. Before having anything of your own, you split off a piece of the pie Christine saved and wordlessly slid it over to Egon. He ate it just as wordlessly.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Ray started from across the table, “The book you were reading earlier- it was Liliom, right? Are you a fan of Rodgers and Hammerstein?”

You brightened. Egon didn’t much enjoy the taste of pie anymore. “Oh, yeah! I love Carousel,” you clenched and unclenched your hands again.

“That’s great! My graduating class did Carousel!” Ray leaned forward. You parroted him.

“In highschool?” You asked, awestruck. “I’m jealous.”

“What’s Carousel?” Peter wondered indolently, buttering a piece of toast.

“It’s this opera-musical about a mill worker-”

“Who falls in love with a carnival barker-”

“But he dies trying to provide for her! And he has to redeem himself for their future daughter.” you say simultaneously, breaking out into a fit of laughter. Egon felt ill.

“You were going to see Midsummer Night's Dream, right?” The question slipped out without much thought from him, though without any resistance or regret.

He added sugar to his coffee while you wiped your eye. “Yeah, there’s a revival in this theater with the best costume design.”

“I’m surprised you enjoy it so much. I mean, it is a parody of its audience.”

You narrowed your eyes in the same owlish way you did at the chalkboard. “A parody of the audience?”

“Lysander, Hermia, Helena, Demetrius?” he offered. “Do they not mock the audience’s romantics?”

“They’re young and in love . They’re more of an ode to the audience, if anything- look at Hermia.”

Egon clicked his tongue, watching on as your passion sparked. “Her argument in the woods speaks otherwise. It mimics the efforts of the showgoers.”

“It mimics their situation!” There was the flame. He smiled to himself. This was familiar. This wasn’t confusing.

The back and forth continued, both developing a thesis: you asserted that love was arbitrary and that’s what makes it special, and he argued that love was arbitrary and that’s what makes it fleeting. You were brought to a standstill when Elon charmed a local motel owner into letting everyone use the showers- only being let in after vowing that no one in your party was a “hippie-lunatic-drug-dealer.”

What would’ve been an afternoon to get to the beach turned into an evening, when unexpected downpour managed to back up the highways. It didn’t seem to bother Elon or Ray, as they found an indoor flea market to explore while they waited for the storm to pass. It wasn’t all bad- there were endless tchotchkes to look at and Christine had managed to haggle for some unexpectedly good donuts.

The car eventually pulled into the beach town at night, joining dozens of others in the parking lot of an ocean themed motel. It was close enough to the boardwalk that the neon signs reflected off the windows, shining in Egon’s blinking eyes. Ray looked on eagerly as you popped the trunk.

“You saw the size of that coaster, right?” he asked Peter.

“Sure did.”

“We’re going on it, right?”

“Sure are.”

“You guys coming?” He asked you and Egon, making sure he still had his wallet.

You looked around, noticing that your friend and her boyfriend disappeared, probably at the front desk. Then you noticed all the stuff left to bring in. “Don’t wait up,” you breathed out, letting the men race each other to the attractions.

Egon started to help you pull bags out, before you gasped, looking up at something over your shoulder and stopping him. “What?” he followed your gaze to the yellow-lit windows of the kitsch inn.

“They’re catching up on lost time,” you dismissed him, “let’s just-” you put everything down, shutting the door. There was a beat of quiet filled with the sounds of fun from the oceanside, before you turned to him, grinning at the absurdity of the situation. “We’re stuck out here.”

You lead him towards the boardwalk, hands in your pockets. “I don’t suppose you’re a fan of rides,” you assumed.

“I’m not. You can go ahead. I’ll just,” he pushed up his glasses, “wait.”

“No way.” Egon was confused as you threw a few glances around, before stealing over to the edge of the wooden boulevard. “Come on,” you clutched a woven rope.

There wasn’t much for him to do but follow, cringing at the feeling of sand under his shoes. You led him rather quickly, only stopping to get a better sense of direction. “Don’t you need a license to be on the beach?” Egon put out.

You halted at the bottom of a formation of large rocks. “It’s the beach,” you made your way up them like a staircase, “I shouldn’t need one.”

Egon sighed, prudently doing as you did when you waited for him at the top. They weren’t that high, just slippery from the tide as they formed what was natural and short pier. “This isn’t safe,” he warned, anxiously watching as you teetered to the end. “There are rules against this.”

“Just look,” you pointed upwards once he cagily caught up to you. The moon was finally visible, white beams bathing everything in a dim, pale light. It seemed so close from here. “Turn around,” you patted him on the shoulder.

Egon hesitantly agreed, only turning around when he felt your clothes hit his back and heard your footsteps running down the makeshift wharf. There was a hearty splash when he raced to the ledge, pupils dilated when you didn’t come back up. He chucked off his shirt, diving in after you.

Your head popped out above the foaming surface of the ocean, laughing madly as you wiped the water from his face. “I remembered I can’t swim,” you gasped, gleefully holding onto Egon’s shoulders in an attempt to stay afloat. He blinked away salt from his eyes when there was the sound of a whistle from down the beach, making him hold you closer to himself.

Egon regarded the way moonlight bounced off your smiling face, seawater lapping around where you held him. Poisonous.

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