#if you understand what this is we should have a summer wedding | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fantasyescapes17 · 11 months

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

458 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 10 days

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.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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

86 notes · View notes

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

691 notes · View notes

mrsbarnesxxx · 3 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

105 notes · View notes

redheadspark · 1 year

Note

June prompt #6 with azriel would be 🤌😩*chef's kiss*

A/N - This one will be nice and short with some mushiness in it! Thanks for the request, anon!

Fruit of Labor

Summary - You remind Azriel of how important he is to Velaris, even over glasses of wine

Warnings -Just some cute fluff

“Ah, finally!”

“Sounds like you had a rough day,”

“More like delinquents up at the camp, my love,”

You looked up from your paperwork, seeing your husband sink into the armchair across from you and rub his temples with a hint of frustration and fatigue. You placed your paperwork down on the pile on the floor, folding your fingers in your lap as you watched him unwind in the armchair, you cocking your head at him as you noticed his wings were sagging to the floor on either sides of the armrest.

“These new soldiers are not up to par, I take it?” You asked as he shook his head.

“No, they’re going to be fine soldiers. We need to break them in and get them on board,” Azriel hummed behind his squinted eyes as he finally opened them and looked over at you with a tired smile. You reached her to take his hand in your own, massaging his palm with your fingers.

“Maybe you should take a break from being up there,” You suggested as he was watching your intertwined fingers hanging between your armchairs, “Cassian should be able to handle the new soldiers without you,”

He hummed, you knew he was thinking about it but he was still drained. It was evident in his eyes and how he was sagging in the chair. Sometimes he would come back from the training camp with high hopes, a pep in his step with plenty to tell you. You never minded hearing him talk about it since he could barely telling you anything about his spy duties or placed he would have to fly to for Rhysand.

Yet there were other days that he came home and simply wanted to not talk about his day. That was understandable, it was stressful to not just recruit new soldiers but to train them. Those roughers days you would try to help him ease the stress he had. Running him a bath, cooking him one of his favorite dishes, or even going on a long walk with him through the city.

But this time, you knew what would help him.

“Come with me, my dear,” You said to him, pulling him out of his chair and guiding him over to the kitchen. Azriel followed him, not letting go of your hand while you both were now in front of the small liquor cabinet. You never were a drinker, nor was Azriel. Yet it was a gift from Rhsyand when he offered you two the little home as a wedding gift, including a wet bar in the kitchen. Arzriel thought It was unnecessary, yet he couldn’t say no to his brother and best friend.

“Here,” said, letting go of his hand and pulling out two glasses and pouring yourself a glass of red wine, the same wine Mor gave you for your birthday. But when you were about to grab the whiskey bottle that Azriel would usually drink on rare occasions, he took the bottle gently from your hands to place it back on the cabinet.

“I’ll drink wine with you tonight,” He explained as you were giving him a confused look. He poured the wine, you both taking your glasses and then walking over to the backdoor where you had a small backyard terrace that gave a great view of Velaris below you.

The terrace was gorgeous, planned and created by Elaine as part of your wedding gift. Plenty of busses and flowers were outline the area, a small black iron fence made the outline as your house was nestled on a little hill. The city was below you, showing off all the houses and shops that descended down into the bay with the massive mountains to the right. You loved this part of the house, especially during a warmer summer night.

Just like tonight.

You both made it over to the bench that was perched in the grass, right in front of the bench to show all of the city. Azriel sat first, then helped you sit next to him with his arm draped along the back of the bench to touch your upper back and neck. You grinned, taking a drink of your wine as you both were watching the scattering lights of the buildings and shops. The soft hum of the night, along with the bugs and insects that were active at night, made the mood lighter and simpler.

“You know, this is my favorite view,” you explained to him as he was watching the scene in front of you both, “Sometimes when I knew I’m stressed out with what we’re trying to do for Velaris, or how we’re going to handle any obstacles, I simply come out here and look at the city. Do you know what I see when I do?”

Azriel stayed silent but looked from the city to you as you pointed out in front of the pair of you.

“I see a happy city, a safe city, but most of all I see a city that is thriving because of all that we have done over the centuries. The hard work up at the camp or the planning with the Inner Circle is pulling off when I see the peace here in this city, in this court,” You explained, seeing his face going a bit soft as you spoke, “You have worked so hard to be where you are now. These people are living their lives with no worries or fears, all thanks to you,”

“It’s mostly Rhysand..” He was about argue with you, you huffing and reaching over with the spare hand to making him stare at you intently. His eyes went big from the sudden movement, though they weren’t afraid as you stared him down.

“You’ve done good, Az. Take the credit where the credit is due, okay? I know the work you have done and I see the fruits of your labor. Azriel, you have done so much for Night Court, alright?” You asked him in a bolder tone, clearly wanting it to get through his stubborn mind that he was making get progress and doing great works for the city.

He’ll never take credit when it was given to him. Your husband would work int he shadows and not be seen, it was better for him sine he hated being in the spotlight or getting massive recognition. But you knew that he needed to hear how big of an impact that he made, the ripple effect that happened because of him.

Finally, your husband smiled, truly smiled for the first time that evening. You placed your wine on the ground next to you on the ground, moving back to frame his face in both hands and kiss him under the stars. He kissed back, leaning into you a bit as his hand behind your back moved to wrap around your waist and tug you in a bit closer. You giggled, kissing him one more time before you pulled away and eyed him with love.

“Take the credit, okay?” You asked him, hearing him laugh as he nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” He replied, you pecking him on the nose before you grabbed his wine glass from his hands swiftly and took a small drink. Now he gave you a shocked look.

“You have your own drink,” He countered, though his smile was playful as you drank down the small sip and shrugged.

“You’re not gonna stop me,” You replied, seeing him then roll his eyes as you leaned back on the bench again .

“Fine, give me your glass,” he said, holding out his spare hand with patience. You knew he was back to his playful self again, the same Azriel that was filled with some aloofness and joy that he had when you two met. You knew you would try and bring that joy to him when he was drifting away from it, over and over.

After you handed him your own glass, you both were sipping each other’s wine as you were watching the view go on and the stars glisten high above. The peace of the city was evident and inviting, you leaning your head on Azriel’s shoulder as he was scanning the very city that he fought to protect and help thrive.

Indeed, the fruits of his labor were evident.

The End

June Summer Prompts

#azriel x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acotar fanfiction #acomaf fanfiction #acotar

190 notes · View notes

callsignspark · 10 months

Note

Bradley and Mary

straddling your partner's thighs

look at what you've done, anon. I've gone and written something ridiculously long.

send me a physical intimacy prompt for any of my Dagger, Sword & Shield couples!

your lap is my safe place - part i

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, uterine cancer (discussions of a terminal illness and treatment), death due to cancer (established universe death), grief over losing a parent, funerals, panic attacks, vomiting, you don’t need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this but you should anyway

word count: 7.1k

part ii - coming soon

note: originally, this was supposed to be a short, simple prompt answer - one part sad and one part smutty - but it's gotten extremely out of hand due to my inability to be brief. so this is part one (the sad part), and the smutty sequel will be coming (ha) sometime early next week. and when I say this part is sad, I mean sad. some of this is very much based on my experience with loved ones who have had cancer and/or were terminally ill. it was very therapeutic to write, even if I did cry a whole lot.

Tuesday, September 3, 2002 | 06:35 A.M.

Bradley wakes up to his alarm clock blaring in his ear, feeling like he’s going to throw up, which is weird for him. Mav says that he’s never met anyone with a stronger stomach. Eighteen-year-olds have stomachs of steel, his mom jokes when she’s having a good day.

He stumbles down the hall and hangs his head over the toilet. Nothing comes up. The nausea goes away in a few minutes, but his gut still feels twisted. He brushes his teeth and decides the likely culprit is the new recipe Mav attempted for dinner last night. He choked down a few bites of the horrible fish tacos before his uncle called it a failure and ordered pizza.

Back in his room, it doesn’t take him long to finish getting ready, pulling on his new first-day-of-school outfit and shaping his mustache. He doesn’t care what Slider says; it’s looking good, much thicker than when he started growing it in April.

“It’s my first day of senior year, my last first day of school. Until the academy, anyway. But with the summer training, the first day of classes probably won’t even feel like a first day.”

His father’s official Lieutenant-JG portrait stares back at him. Unanswering as he fixes his hair.

“Mom is getting worse… She’s getting weaker; I don’t think we have very long before she has to go into hospice. I really want her to get better - I wished for it - but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

He swallows hard and fights back tears, remembering his birthday just a few months ago. Everything hadn’t seemed quite as bad then as it is now.

“I hope she can make it to Christmas. I almost have enough money saved up to buy her that pair of earrings that look like the ones Princess Diana had at her wedding. They’re not real pearls like hers, obviously, but the lady at the jewelry counter told me they’re replicas, so I think she’ll like them anyway.”

Brown eyes identical to his own stare back at him. Hints of the mischievous, prank-loving man visible in the polite smile captured. The old photo is carefully tucked into the edge of his mirror; it was his mom’s first, but she gave it to him when he was eight. She had caught him staring at it every day for a week, quietly talking to it about his day.

“Wish me luck, Goose. It’s gonna be a big year.”

Downstairs, he’s greeted with the second weird thing of the day. First, his stomach, and now his mom is flipping pancakes. She’s hardly had the strength to use the bathroom by herself in the last six months, but this morning, she’s standing at the stove, singing along to the radio, and making his favorite breakfast.

She’s always said that bad things happen in threes, but strange things happen in pairs.

He thinks she might be right, but if she feels good, he’s not complaining. She never feels good anymore.

“There he is! Oh, Mav! Look at my baby boy, all grown up and ready for his last year of high school!”

“Ma…” He groans, and without prompting, he bends down to let her kiss and pinch his cheeks like he always does.

He’s not sure how many good days she has left, so he tries his best to behave and make her life easier.

He doesn't complain when she asks him to take the garbage out after he already did; her memory hasn’t been as good since she got sick. He keeps the anger inside when everyone forgets his baseball games because she had chemo; it’s more important for Mav and Ice to take care of her than to watch him throw a ball around. He even offered up his college fund to help pay for another round of treatment. He was denied before he could even finish the suggestion, but he just wants her to get better more than anything in the world.

Needs her to get better.

She sets a stack of pancakes in front of him, and again, he has the urge to cry when she kisses the top of his head. Her perfume takes over his senses, and if he closes his eyes, it’s almost like he’s little again.

A massive stack of fluffy, perfectly round pancakes, slathered in butter and syrup, filled with his mom’s love.

Mav sitting across the table from him, drinking the worst black coffee to exist on the planet.

His mom humming off-key at the stove, her beautiful, golden hair swishing as she gets into a song.

But then he opens his eyes, and he’s not little anymore.

The pancakes are still covered with butter and enough syrup to give him a cavity, but they’re not the same. They’re flat and mishappen; her arms aren’t very strong anymore, so Mav must’ve had to help her.

Mav still sits across from him, terrible black coffee in his mug, but now he looks old. Too old for someone in his thirties. They’ve been lucky he’s been able to be here this past year. After Mom got sick, Ice and Viper pulled some strings to get him assigned to a shore-duty desk job. Bradley knows he hates it. Can see it in the way he watches every plane that passes overhead - civilian, military, it doesn’t matter - his fingers twitching to be the one controlling the powerful engines. But he never complains, is steady and strong, taking Mom to appointments and Bradley to school.

His mom is humming at the stove for the first time in a long time, somehow more in tune than she’s ever been. He wants to make a joke about how the treatments must have fixed her tone-deafness, but it would just make everyone sad. A reminder that it’s the only thing her treatment has fixed.

It’s taken everything else away.

Her skin, once bright and youthful, is now dull and gray-toned. Her energy has been zapped; she doesn’t even have it in her to make it through their Sunday movie nights. Her body is frail. She was always slim, but now she borders on gaunt, her appetite nonexistent most of the time. Her hair was the first thing to go, a rotation of brightly colored scarfs and hats replacing the blonde strands that used to reach her shoulders. He looks at today’s choice. A bright red scarf that matches the white sundress and red cardigan she’s pulled on.

She looks pretty.

“You look pretty, mom.”

It grabs the attention of both adults, the two of them staring long enough that he squirms in his chair.

“Thank you, baby.” Her pleased smile tells him it was the right thing to say. “You don’t want your pancakes?”

“I do. They look great, but my stomach kinda hurt when I got up, so I don’t want to eat right now. I’m sorry. If you put them in the fridge, I can eat them for dinner.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! It’s a special day; we’re going to have something special for dinner! Something that Mav won’t be making.” The teasing smile she sends to the table makes the knot in his stomach unwind some. It makes him feel good enough to take a small bite.

The shape is wrong, and they’re not fluffy enough, but the taste is the same. The flavor melts over his tongue. The pressure in his chest, the one that showed up around the same time as his mom’s cancer diagnosis, lightens a little bit.

I should fake sick and stay home.

The thought comes out of left field, but he’s immediately on board. She hasn’t had a good day in forever, and he doesn’t want to miss it. Who knows when the next one will come. If there will even be another good day. He wants to spend time with his mom while she knows what’s happening.

“My stomach hurts; I don’t think I can go to school.” He groans and grabs his stomach, trying to look as pathetic as possible to sell his story.

He’s forgotten how sharp his mom is, how well she knows him. “Nice try, honey. You were fine two seconds ago, and you’re not missing your first day of senior year. Now, c’mon! It’s photo time!”

Carole is marching towards the front door before he can argue, so he tries to sway Mav in his favor. But the dark-haired man just shakes his head and avoids eye contact, grabbing the camera off the counter. Bradley stands in the middle of the kitchen, the knot retwisting itself.

He suddenly realizes that his upset stomach has nothing to do with yesterday’s tilapia trying to get its revenge and everything to do with what he overheard in the waiting room during his mom’s last checkup.

“I know, I heard. Isn’t it terrible? He'd been sick for a while, but it seemed like he was getting better. He even took his kids on a bike ride, and then - BAM! - he was gone the next day!”

“Oh, that happens a lot with people who are sick for a long time. Toward the end, they get this sudden burst of energy. It’s like God’s way of giving a happy memory to them and their loved ones. Letting them have one last good day before they go.”

He’s actually going to throw up this time.

Bradley drags his feet all the way to the front door, delaying his departure as much as possible. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he’s not going to win any fight against her right now - he’s going to school, come hell or high water. And he doesn’t want to fight with his mom; instead, he chooses to commit the moment to memory.

The gentle touch of her hands as she fusses with his hair, making sure it’s just right before any photos.

The brightness of her smile, how it’s the one thing that’s never dimmed despite everything she’s gone through.

The teasing barbs she exchanges with Mav, the man who has been family to her for longer than Bradley has been alive.

He looks at Mav, the man who has done his best to help raise him. Tried so hard to be a fatherly figure in place of the man who was lost too soon. Mav looks tired, Bradley wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as him.

She’s going. She’s going, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Just like every year since kindergarten, they squish together on the porch, his mom wrapping her arm around his waist. He thinks about how she used to have to squat down so their heads were together. Now, she’d have to go on her tiptoes, and he’d have to crouch down for that to happen.

He knows his smile looks fake; he has to force himself because this might be the last photo he gets with his mom, and that makes him sad beyond words. Carole quickly fixes that, tickling his side on that one spot that always gets him. He giggles and tries to squirm away, his smile turning happy and real as she laughs at him.

“You’re just like your father; he was ticklish in the exact same spot.”

Even the talk of Goose doesn’t bring them down like it usually does. Today, it lifts everyone’s spirit to realize how much he’s like the father he didn’t get to know.

After Mav has taken an ungodly number of photos, Bradley asks for the camera and stands next to his uncle. He snaps photo after photo of his mom, hoping that if he takes enough, he won’t ever be able to forget this moment. Then he shuffles Mav on the porch and takes photos of the pseudo-siblings. He rearranges them one last time, setting the camera on the porch railing and hitting the timer.

He doesn’t know it yet, but that photo of the three of them standing in the yard with the Bronco just visible in the background will be the last photo taken of his mother. As an adult, it will be tied for first place with five others as his favorite photo of all time.

After the last flash, Carole pulls him close. “I am so proud of you, Bradley. Your dad would be so proud of you. You’re such a good boy. I love you so much.”

He hugs her tighter than he should; he can’t help it. The little gasp she lets out at the intensity of his hug makes him feel a bit guilty, but he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t want to let her go.

“I know, honey. I know. It’s okay.” She tries to soothe her baby, who isn’t a baby anymore. He’s a full-grown man who is so much smarter and wiser than any 18-year-old should ever be. He’s been through so much more than any kid should ever have to go through. She feels bad about how quickly he’s had to grow up. “Everything is gonna be okay.”

No, it’s not going to be okay. But he holds back his tears because he doesn’t want her to cry when she’s having a good day. He reluctantly lets go and slips on his sunglasses - aviators, just like Goose - before heading for his car, knowing that if he doesn’t go now, he’ll never be able to make himself leave.

With his stomach in even more knots than he thought possible, Bradley heads off to school, waving as he pulls out of the driveway. Trying to burn the image of his mom waving, one hand on her hip as Mav nudges her and makes her laugh.

From the moment he parks the Bronco in the seniors-only lot, the entire school day feels like torture. He can’t even enjoy the beginning of his senior year, something he had been waiting for.

Senior year means graduation. Graduation means going to college. College means packing his stuff for Annapolis. Annapolis means he can finally start working on his dream.

He’ll learn how to be an aviator while roaming the same halls as Goose while he learns the ins and outs of aeronautical engineering. He might even be lucky enough to get placed in the same dorm room. Being an aviator means he’ll be just like his father. And Mav. And Ice. And Slider. And all of his other uncles from the class of '86. But he can’t bring himself to be excited like usual.

Instead, he’s on edge the entire day. Waiting to get called to the nurse’s office. They all had agreed as a family - Bradley, Carole, Mav, and Ice - that if she passed when he was at school, they would have the front office call him down to the nurse’s office. Ice would pick him up, Mav likely busy dealing with the doctors and the funeral home and everything.

He can barely eat the lunch his mom packed. A peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, cut into triangles like when he was little. Chips, cucumber slices, and a chocolate chip cookie round out the meal. He tosses most of the food but is careful to keep the little note she had put in the brown paper bag.

I love you, Bradley. You’re going to do great things.

He presses it between the pages of his calculus textbook before he goes to gym, making sure he doesn’t bend the pink sticky note, preserving her swirly handwriting as best he can.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the eighth period rings. Relief washes through his body. There’s been no call from the nurse, and his school day is over. He hastily packs his bookbag and practically skips towards the parking lot, waving at some friends still in class. He’s one got free period during ninth period, and as a senior, he gets to leave early if he has no class.

He’s planning his route home - he wants to stop at the corner store to grab a treat for his mom - when he skids to a stop where the concrete sidewalk meets asphalt.

Ice is leaning against the bumper of the Bronco.

“Happy birthday, Bradley!” His mom yells before blowing a kazoo.

He couldn’t be happier. It’s his birthday, his mom is having a good day, and he just got the keys to the Bronco. It’s officially his, just like he always dreamed it would be.

“Your dad’s dream was for you two to fix it up together and give it to you on your eighteenth birthday,” Mav explained. “I know I can’t replace him, but we had a good time working on it, right?”

Bradley nods and hugs his uncle. Mav will never be his actual dad, but he’s the closest thing he has to one. He helped raise him. He had sacrificed so many weekends to spend time with him, showing him how to fix the Bronco or throw a football with a perfect spiral. He’d even taken him on motorcycle rides, but they agreed not to tell Mom about that.

“Okay, knock it off, you saps. It’s time to blow out your candles, Baby Goose!” Slider enters the dining room, looking ridiculous with a crooked party hat on his head. He’s concentrating hard to balance a cake that’s much too big for the six people in attendance at his birthday dinner.

It’s set in front of Bradley, and he laughs when he sees the cake is covered in little plane toys. It looks like a cake made for a little kid, and he loves it. Aunt Sarah lights his candles and starts singing. He sits there for 30 seconds, watching his family sing off-key and thinking about how he loves his family so much his heart hurts.

“Okay, baby! Close your eyes and make a wish!” Carole smooths a hand over his hair.

He smiles up at her. “Only if you help me, ma.”

She bends down, doing a quick countdown before they close their eyes and blow out the candles together. For the first time in years, Bradley actually makes a wish.

Please don’t let my mom die. I need her.

Ice is talking to Slider, who’s parked in his white Jeep, and even from this distance, he can tell they’ve been crying.

Slider has obviously given Ice a ride to school, and now they’re waiting for him. If Ice doesn’t have his truck, that means he’s going to be driving Bradley. And that can only mean one thing.

She’s gone. My wish didn’t come true.

His backpack hits the ground at the same time as his knees, and he throws up. It’s not a lot; he’s barely eaten today, and by the time his uncles reach him - their feet pounding on the pavement - he’s just sobbing and dry heaving into the grass.

“Breathe, Bradley. You gotta breathe, buddy.” He can’t tell which one is talking; blood is rushing in his ears, and he just keeps crying.

“Bradley.” It’s Ice, holding his face up. “Listen to me. Your mom is not dead. Do you hear me? She’s not gone. But she had to be taken to the hospital; we’re still waiting for the test results. We’re gonna go there right now, but you need to breathe first, okay? You gotta breathe.”

He does his best to stop crying and take in air. His body literally shudders on the first breath, his lungs greedily sucking in the oxygen. After a few breaths, a water bottle is shoved in front of his face. He doesn’t even know where it came from, but he drinks, his throat raw.

Slider pops a mint into his mouth before helping him stand. “It’ll help your throat and your stomach.”

He races to the car, throwing the keys to Ice, who almost drops them. Both adults speed out of the parking lot, heading directly for the hospital.

Halfway there Ice has a chilling realization. The car is silent. If he’s learned anything in the last twenty-odd years, it’s that a car ride involving a Bradshaw is never silent. There’s always talking and laughing. Usually, you can count on singing and bad seat dancing, but today, it’s silent. There’s not even the sound of crying. And when he looks over at Bradley, he’s startled to find him catatonically staring out the windshield, his face bone dry. He looks like a statue, and it freaks Ice out how quickly he’s shut down. He hasn’t attended Sunday service in a long time, doesn’t even know if he believes in a higher power, but at that moment, he sends off prayers to every deity he can name, hoping that one of them can pull off a miracle for the boy who’s already dealt with so much.

It’s even worse at the hospital, Slider nabbing the spot next to them seconds after Ice shifts into park. The three of them hurry towards the ICU, where a nurse lets them all in after she hears who they’re visiting. Technically, only Bradley and Pete meet the requirements to be allowed in, but the entire ward is aware of the situation and are prepared to let as many people visit as needed.

Bradley freezes halfway to Carole’s room, Slider almost running him over. A priest is walking out of her room. He shakes hands with Mav and somberly nods at the frozen trio when he passes.

Mav watches as his best friends gently nudge his godson forward. His heart feels like it’s splitting in two as tears start streaming down Bradley’s face. A face that looks so old and so young at the same time. Maverick feels like he’s watching his 18-year-old nephew transform into the little boy who just lost his dad. His lower lip trembles just like it used to when he would fall and scrap his knee. Except this time, there’s nothing Mav can do to make it better. There’s no antibacterial spray, no Spiderman band-aid, no over-dramatic kiss with magical healing powers. This time, there’s only a young man who’s now taller than him. He stands in the doorway with red eyes and a mustache that makes him look so much like Goose.

“What happened?” Bradley croaks, afraid to enter the room. He hates the way his mom looks when she’s hooked up to all those machines. The beeping hurts his ears. “Why was the priest in here?”

“I don’t know, kid. We were about to eat lunch, and she collapsed. The doctors don’t know either; the test results didn’t show anything that’s telling them what’s going on. Everything is just suddenly worse.” Mav gets choked up; he can hardly continue. “They uh- they said this is probably it. That we should say our goodbyes. That’s why I had the priest come in. When we talked about her final wishes a while ago, she made me promise she would get her last rites.”

Bradley tackles him in a hug before he finishes talking. They cry together, mourning the loss that hasn’t happened yet.

The four of them have been sitting in silence for hours, listening to the beep of the heart monitor, when Bradley speaks up from his post beside his mom. “What else does she want? I know she wants to be buried next to Goose, but what else? She didn’t tell me.”

“She wants yellow carnations in her arrangements. Her wedding band stays with her, just like Goose, but her engagement ring goes to you. She wants to be wearing that blue dress she wore when she first met your dad.”

“That’s it?”

“There are a few more legal things, like with the house and the cars, but that’s laid out in her will. She made me promise I’ll take care of you, which I was always going to do no matter what.”

And she made me promise I’ll never let you fly.

Mav doesn’t add that final promise to the list; it’s not the right time for that conversation. He’s not sure it’ll ever be the right time.

Carole can feel herself getting weaker, but today is a good day; she feels good. Strong.

“Peter Howard Mitchell! Listen to me, you stupid, stubborn, obnoxious jackass! We don’t have a lot of time before Bradley gets back, and we need to talk about this!”

Bradley had felt guilty about leaving to go to the movies with Tessa Richardson, but Carole had insisted - he’d had a crush on that girl for years. It was about time he had his first kiss. And she was 95% certain it was going to happen today. Her motherly instincts were tingling.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Carole! I’m sick of every conversation we have being about you dying!”

“You think I like talking about it? Knowing that I’m leaving behind my little boy?” She gets in his face, yelling with every ounce of strength she can summon. “You think I like knowing that my body is giving up? That I’m dying? I can feel it happening, Pete! I can feel myself drifting away! And nothing the doctors are doing is helping! I know that it’s scaring Bradley, scaring you, but it’s scaring me most of all!”

Maverick catches her, and they sink to the ground; she sobs in his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry; I’m so sorry, Carole. What do you need me to do?”

“Bradley can’t fly.” She pulls back, wiping her eyes. “He can’t fly for the Navy, Pete. I know he wants to, but you can’t let him.”

“But Carole, it’s his dream to-”

“To die just like his father?” Her words shock him. “I love Nick more than anything, Pete, you know that. But do you know what I would do to have him here with us today? Do you realize I’ve lived three times as long without my husband than I did with him? It’s been fifteen years - almost sixteen. I only knew Nick for five, and we were only married for three before he was gone. I would do anything to have Bradley know his father.”

“Care…”

“You’ve been incredible, Mav. You’ve done your best to be a father to him; he loves you so much. I love you so much; you’re my best friend. But I've missed my husband every day for the last fifteen years. He was the love of my life, and I miss him so much my heart hurts. I’m not going to be here, but I can’t stand the thought of the same thing happening to Bradley. I won’t let that happen to my baby. So, you have to promise me, Pete. Promise me you won’t let him fly.”

They sit on the floor in silence, staring at each other. The internal debate roars inside Maverick, hurting his chest. He loves the Bradshaws more than anything. He would do anything for them. He still feels guilty about his best friend’s death, knows it was his fault, even if the investigation said he was innocent. The guilt of Goose being gone eats away at him, little by little each day.

Carole is right.

He can’t - he won’t - lose Bradley the same way.

“I promise I’ll do my best to keep him out of the air. But Carole, he’s almost an adult. Soon, there won’t be much I can do to control him. I can’t stop him from applying to the Academy or joining the Navy.”

“Yes, you can. Get Ice to pull some strings, indebt yourself to Viper. Do whatever you have to do. Do everything you can to protect him, Pete.” Her voice is cold and emotionless, knowing it will destroy her son, but at least he’ll be alive.

It was the one and only time they had talked about it, but every time Bradley excitedly talked about his future, Carole would look at him with this face that made Mav feel awful. It’s her request, but he was going to be the reason Bradley’s dreams were crushed.

Mav leans over in his chair, guilt and hopelessness consuming his body. The knowledge that his godson was about to be more like him in all the ways he never wanted.

Orphaned. Mother dying, with a broken heart, years after his father was killed while flying.

Denied entrance to the Naval Academy due to something beyond his control.

“She doesn’t want anything else?”

“No.”

It’s the last word spoken. A lie.

Slider and Ice spend the night just outside the door in some extra chairs an orderly had been kind enough to scrounge up. Mav shifts between standing at Carole’s side to hold her hand and sitting ramrod straight at the foot of her bed.

Bradley stays by his mom’s side the entire night, clutching her left hand. He plays with her wedding band, twisting it around her finger like he used to when he was little. He thinks about how different everything is going to be. He’s going to be alone a lot more now. He’s legally an adult, so when Mav gets deployed or transferred, there won’t be a need to scramble to make sure he’s taken care of. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the house or if it’s even his to worry about. Mav, Ice, and his mom had taken care of the legal stuff without him. He wonders if Slider would loan him some money so he can get those earrings. She won’t be able to appreciate them, but he still wants her to have them. It’s the last thing he’ll be able to do for her. They’ll go nice with her blue dress, he thinks. He sits there and thinks. He’s there the whole time.

He’s there, wide awake, when Carole takes her last breath at 3:14 AM on September 4th. He’s there when the doctor comes in to declare her dead; he shakes Bradley’s hand, giving him the first of the thousand condolences that will follow. He’s there when the nurse comes in to turn off the monitors and unhook the IVs; she gently asks if he wants to leave while she cleans his mom up, but he refuses. He doesn’t have a lot of time left before he’ll never see her again; he can’t waste any time. He’s there for another hour, trying to say his goodbyes through sobs. He’s there until his uncles drag him out, promising him that he’ll see her again before the funeral. He’s still there, mentally, when he goes to sleep at Uncle Tom’s house. He and Pete are sleeping over, neither of them ready to face the house.

He’s there three days later, shyly asking the funeral director if it would be too much trouble to change his mom’s earrings. When he asked Uncle Ron about the money, he put them both in the car, drove to the mall, and paid for the earrings without question. The two of them hugged for a long time before they went home. He’s there at the viewing, next to his mother’s casket for hours, numbingly accepting condolences and hugs from hundreds of people. The one bright spot is being reminded how many people loved his mom. How wonderful she was to everyone she met.

He’s there at the graveside service, the first to place a rose on the polished wood. He stays there once it ends, refusing to leave, watching as the casket is lowered and the hole is filled with dirt. He’s there to place a bouquet of yellow carnations, her favorite, on top of the fresh earth. He pats the dual gravestone, one half still blank, before he lets Mav pull him to the car. He looks back one last time, and as the sunshine dries his tears, he swears he can hear his parents' laughter in the wind.

As an adult, now with two dead parents and one estranged, he’s there every year that he’s not deployed. He clears away any weeds and leaves before placing a bouquet of yellow carnations on the gravestone that now bears two names. Sometimes, there’s a single red rose already there when he arrives. Those are the years he knows Mav beat him to saying hello. He’s there for hours at a time, sitting with his parents and eating a bag of trail mix with extra M&Ms added - Goose’s favorite.

The first year that he and Mary are together, he’s there alone. He trusts her implicitly, and she knows the whole story. He told her what happened with Mav and everything that followed; it was a conversation they had early on. But this is something too raw, too personal, to share so soon in a relationship. He’s spent so many years doing this by himself that he’s not sure how he would handle having another person with him. Even if it was someone he loves so much.

Mary understands.

“Of course, you understand, you’re perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Bradley. I just care about your feelings.”

“You’re perfect for me.” He kisses her before she can protest. “Thank you for caring about me.”

The day of, she kisses him softly as he leaves, pushing a sandwich bag of trail mix into his hand. Her only ask is to tell her when he gets home safe if he needs space, letting him know that her house is always open if he doesn’t want to spend the night alone.

He spends that first year catching them up. Now that he’s stationed in San Diego, it’s easier to visit more often, but several things have happened since his last stop. Usually, he talks for a bit and then sits in silence, choosing to reminisce on the happy memories. This time, he spends most of the time talking. Telling his parents about Mav, the shenanigans of the Dagger Squad, about Mary. He tells them all about Mary. How much he loves her, how he hasn’t said it yet because it’s only officially been two months, how he’s pretty sure she can tell anyway. He goes on and on about her eyes, her kindness, her intelligence.

“I love her so much; I’m going to marry her.” He blurts it out, a small gasp following his declaration to the etched granite stone. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, but it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. And now he can’t stop thinking about it.

Mary in a white dress with a veil sitting on her pretty brown hair, a gold band on her ring finger. The two of them committing themselves to each other in front of all their loved ones. Twirling her around the dance floor to their song, dipping her at the end to kiss her and make her blush. Everything that would follow. A house. A dog. A few kids. Diapers and dance recitals to gray hair and wrinkles.

“Holy shit… I’m going to marry her.” The breeze ruffles his hair, and he knows it’s his parents. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll make sure we’re married before I get her pregnant, unlike you two.”

He decides to stay the night at Mary’s, feeling better than he ever has on this day. He goes to find her the moment he enters the house, using the key she recently gave him. She’s on her office floor, organizing her bookshelf, when he presses himself against her, devouring her in a kiss. Bradley’s added weight throws her off balance, and the two of them topple over, sprawled in the paperbacks.

When he finally pulls back, he’s pleased to see that she’s flushed and her chest is heaving.

“I’m not complaining, but what was that?”

“I’ve never had someone to come home to after visiting them; I’ve always done it alone.” He talks into her neck, enjoying the way her fingers tighten in his hair when his lips brush her skin. “I’m just really thankful I have you.”

“Oh, Bradley…” Mary doesn’t know what to say. She loves this man so much, and she knows it’s too soon to say that, so she shows him. The night ends with a shower and papercuts in places where papercuts should never happen.

The day sneaks up on him the second year they’re together. They’ve been busy; between work, helping Jake with his surprise, and preparing to move in together, August went by in a blink. It leaves him with no time to mentally prepare.

Bradley jolts awake, sweat covering his temples and his heart thumping. It’s the worst nightmare he’s had in months. It was a twisted mess of awful moments. Some real, some imagined. Reliving his mother’s death but worse, almost dying on the uranium mission, losing Mary to cancer, same as his mom. He woke up just as a doctor was telling him she was gone and he wasn’t allowed to see her.

“No, sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t go back there. Her husband doesn’t want anyone else back there. You’ll have to wait for the funeral… if you’re even allowed in, asshole.”

He whips the covers off and trips his way to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before his dinner makes a return trip. The commotion wakes Mary, and she quickly makes her way to him, finding him laying on the floor, his shirt whipped into the tub.

His chest is so tight it hurts. He can’t believe he’s having a panic attack. He hasn’t had a full-on panic attack in years. There’s been anxiety, moments where he can’t easily catch his breath and his heart beating faster than it should, but nothing like this. He feels like he’s drenched in sweat, his heart is pounding, and he can’t breathe.

“Bradley? Look at me, sweetie.”

Mary.

“Can you look at me, Bradley?” He can hardly see through the tears. “I know it’s hard because you’re crying so hard, but look at me.”

It takes all his strength to turn his head, but he does it because he knows she’s worried.

“There you are. Okay, baby, I need you to breathe with me.”

He’s not exactly sure how she does it, but she helps him calm down. His body listens to her instructions before his brain realizes.

It takes a while, but he can breathe normally again. She helps him sit up, propping himself against the tub and letting his head fall back. He hears the sink run before there’s a soft touch on his shoulder.

“Gonna touch you, that okay?” He nods, appreciative of how considerate she is, always thinking of him.

Mary gently wipes his face, cleaning it of tears and sweat before brushing the washcloth over his arms and chest. It helps ground him, feeling more inside his body than before.

“What time is it?” Bradley rasps as she rinses the cloth.

“Late. Or early, depending on how you want to think about it.” She peeks out of the door, checking the time. Her face is somber when she comes back to him. “It’s 3:20, honey.”

“Twenty years… she’s been gone for twenty years.” He reaches for her, and she easily complies, straddling his thighs when he tugs her hand.

They sit in silence, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

“I had a nightmare.” He starts, answering her silent question. “It was her death and the uranium mission back-to-back, losing her and then him.”

She hums, encouraging him to continue. She doesn’t know the details of that mission - her clearance level is high but not that high - but she knows that he and Mav barely made it back. Both of them brushing hands with death multiple times.

They have nightmares. Less frequently now that they’re a few years down the road, but they still happen. Mav dreams that he doesn’t save them, that one of the bogeys gets them before Hangman reaches them. Bradley’s feature him missing the helicopter, having to watch Mav bleed out.

“Then it was you. You were sick. It was the same thing as Mom, uterine cancer. And I couldn’t even say goodbye. You married someone else, and I wasn’t allowed in.”

She takes a sharp breath. That’s new.

“I don’t want to lose you, Mary. I love you so much, I think it would kill me.”

“Oh, honey.” She cradles his face, forcing him to look at her. “You listen to me, Bradley Bradshaw. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you more than anything. In two weeks, we’re going to be living together. When the time is right, we’re going to get married and have a family.”

She can't help but press a quick kiss to his mouth. “And I’m healthy. There’s no history of uterine or breast cancer in my family, and I just had my annual appointment last week. All the tests came back negative for bad things. Nothing is wrong. I'm totally healthy, okay? I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“You’re right, I can’t. We can’t control everything, and sometimes bad things happen. But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure I don’t ever leave you.”

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and scratchy. “I know it’s hard with what I do, but I promise you’re my number one thought when I’m in the air; coming home safe to you is my top priority.”

“Now, I’m gonna cry, Bradley.” They both let out watery laughs. “You’re such a sweet man.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now let’s go back to bed; I need my beauty sleep before I meet your parents.” She pulls him up, and they fall asleep quickly, tucked together as the early morning light peeks through the curtains.

When they get to the cemetery the next afternoon, a red rose sits on the headstone. One step in front of him, Mary picks it up and brushes some leaves off the base. He watches as she places the flower back in its spot, plucking a few dandelions before she stands.

“There,” she says, brushing dirt off her hands, “that’s better.”

The wind picks up, twisting her long hair around, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Mom, I know. She’s very pretty. I’m working on proposing. We gotta do some stuff first, but it’s coming.” He mutters under his breath.

“What was that, honey?”

“Nothing, baby doll. Want to help me put the blanket down?” His hat blows off, and he scowls at the tree that’s nearby, smiling when he hears her muffled giggle.

Miss you, dad.

part six will be coming next week! have a great weekend everyone!

fic tag | Mar[r]y Me masterlist | credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #ask game #asks answered #anon <3 #elle writes #mar[r]y me fic

54 notes · View notes