#and how they find new ways of telling the story.
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Azriel X Fem Human Reader
Summary: Azriel finds your journal and reads your depictions of the life the two of you have spent so far...
Content Warning: Memory loss, Death of a character, grief, someone on their death bed. Mention of Poison
Word Count: 2.9K
Dedicated: to @daycourtofficial who broke my heart with her Az fic this week
Tags: @milswrites @berryzxx @lady-of-tearshed @simple-fan2 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @riddlesb1tch
ACOTAR Masterlist
There once was a human girl, who fell in love with a fae male.
After the war when borders had blurred, a young human woman traveled to Prythian the land of the fae. Not aware that some still held hatred in their heart for her kind. The woman cornered by fae males twice her size, looking at her as if she were their next meal. Slamming her eyes shut the woman began to tremble and wishing she would have stayed in her safe little hut.
Yet no one had laid a hand on her. Not a hair out of place. She only opened her eyes when the shrieks and snarls of males overwhelmed her ears. Flashes of cobalt lit the alley. The males scurrying with their tails between their legs, no longer fierce predators, but the fearful prey.
Swirls of shadows slithered around the woman’s body, their touch soft kisses against her skin. They wrapped around her neck and back down before slithering away, one lone tendril remaining and resting against the woman’s wrist. Despite her life being threatened moments before she laughed. This sentient magical being was not scary, but playful and cute.
Then she heard the clearing of a throat and her head slid up, no longer paying attention to the shadow, but the person who wielded them. Whispers of the male and his friends were the talk of the village.
“Shadowsinger.” The male blinked in surprised at her knowledge of who he was.
The male spoke, and the woman, never heard a more lovely sound. “Most people call me Azriel.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Are you alright?”
The woman slid her hand into his and a spark erupted from his touch and the woman panicked as a gold thread wrapped tightly around her heart, she couldn’t see it. She felt it. Something in her mind told her that the other end led to the person in front of her. “You’re my mate.” He whispered. The woman didn’t know what he meant by that. She didn’t have to know. Two things she knew was true:
This Male’s name was Azriel, and this male named Azriel made her feel safe.
A few years went by and the woman absolutely adored her mate.
She had a mate! Someone who was her equal in every way. Someone who promised the day she accepted the bond to love and cherish her until the day air left his lungs for good. Only to promise that in case, he would simply find her in the next life.
The young woman now had a family to call her own and a loving partner to walk through life with. New adventures awaited them.
But she will always be grateful for making the trip to Prythian, the beginning of her Happily Ever After.
The end
Azriel closed the journal, his gaze eyes meeting your cloudy ones. “That was a lovely story, young man.” He smiled and gripped your now elderly hand. In the Spymaster’s eyes, you had only grown more beautiful with age. Your smile lines grew deeper from the years of laughing with Cassian. Forehead creases from playing too many games with Rhysand focusing on your shields so he couldn’t cheat. Every wrinkle, every crease, every spot told a story. Your story. As your body grew more wrinkles and your hair began to gray, the shadowsinger somehow fell deeper in love with you, your beauty knew no bounds and he thanked the mother that she chose you as his mate.
“You wrote it, my love.” Azriel gave you a rare smile and you returned it with one of your own. “It’s about how we met. About our bond. You wrote it to tell Nyx someday, to tell our children someday.” Children the two of you were never destined to have, your body too fragile to carry an Illyrian babe to term. You were devastated when Madja revealed that to you. You thought you were broken; Az recalled the numerous times you apologized to him simply for the human body you possessed. Your apologies met with arms around you and Azriel rocking you murmuring how you had nothing to apologize for.
You looked upon the fae male whom in the last 50 years had not aged. His hazel eyes felt familiar to you though you couldn’t place how. One thing you knew for certain was that this male was in love. “You have a woman in your life.” There was a flicker of sadness in the male’s eyes, but he blinked, and it was gone. “An old woman can tell these things.”
The male gave you a smile, you felt inclined to reach for his hand, he immediately grips your hand in his own, the raised skin of his scars colliding with the frail now thin skin of your own. “I do. Would you like to hear about her?”
“Please.” The handsome male squeezed your hand. “She must be special, your eyes light up, just asking to talk about her.”
“She’s wonderful.” The male’s timbre shook slightly, you patted his hand encouraging him to continue. “When she reads, she always crinkles her nose, and her face always flushes when she reaches a smutty scene.” You chuckled, “When I return home from a mission, without fail she is the first one to greet me. Leaping into my arms, her scent consuming me entirely.” His thumb idly stroked the top of yours. “My favorite thing about her, is late at night before she goes to bed, she would sit at her desk and write in her journal.”
You blinked and you smiled at the sight of your best friend, your husband, your mate. “You always scolded me to come to bed.” Azriel let a sob lose as he pressed his forehead to yours. “No fair.” He sniffled as his shadows came to greet you, as if you had been gone for ages, “You haven’t aged in 50 years.”
Azriel pressed his lips to yours, “You have only gotten more beautiful with time, my love.” He pulled away and you were able to see every emotion in his hazel eyes. Most people had a hard time figuring out what Azriel was feeling. You always knew he held every emotion in his beautiful eyes.
You lifted a hand to his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, you swiped away his tears, “We agreed,” You whispered, “No tears. No goodbyes.”
Azriel whimpered and it was the first time you ever saw the spy master look defeated, broken, lost. “We were younger when we agreed to that. You can’t ask this of me.” His palm pressed over yours. “Not when we have such little time.”
“Az, look at me, baby.” His watery gaze met yours, “We were running on borrowed time. I’ve made peace with that years ago.” Another broken sob escaped him, and you began to feel your own tears coming to the surface. “I don’t want this to be how I remember you. This isn’t how I want us to part.”
“This life isn’t worth living, if you’re not here.” His shadows kissed your cheeks, drying your tears. “I can’t live without you, Angel.”
You pressed your forehead to his once more, your arms barely able to lift you up anymore. “You can, and you will. Nyx needs to see how you are not just serious. That you’re funny, and kind, he needs to know that Auntie loved him so much and will watch over him. Just like I will with you.” Your vision blurred as the tears trickled down your aged cheeks. “Maybe we’ll be lucky, and the Cauldron will turn me into one of your shadows.” A strangled sound came out of Azriel. “I love you, Azriel and I will love you in every lifetime.”
Azriel brought your lips to his once more. “I Love you too. Wait for me in the next life.”
“Hold me. One last time.” You moved to make room for your mate. He slid his boots off and tucked his wings tightly to make room on the cramped bed. He scooped you in his arms, his shadows resting comfortably around your waist. Your whole world holding you close to his chest. “Az?”
“Angel?”
“Will you sing me to sleep?” You whispered, your eyes growing heavy, your body feeling so weak.
Azriel’s wing came over as if knowing you had caught a sudden chill. “For you, my love. Of course.” Azriel’s melodic voice singing words of love and devotion. Before unconscious held a grip on you, you felt his lips on the top of your head, “Until we meet again, My Angel.”
Azriel awoke at the sound of feet pattering on the hard wood floor down the hall. He looked over at you, your skin paled, lips a slight shade of blue, Azriel couldn’t hear your heartbeat and the bond had faded to a dim light sending his love down only to feel hollowness at the other end. Tears slid down his cheeks as his shadows confirmed what he already knew:
Gone
Gone
She has left.
A little dark head of hair wandered in and Azriel jolted as the heir of the Night Court climbed on the bed. “Auntie!” His little jovial voice echoing through the room. Azriel moved and covered his mouth as he shut his eyes fighting the sob. “Auntie, it’s time to wake up.” The Shadowsinger opened his eyes to find Nyx brows furrowed. “Auntie?” He shakes your lifeless form before he places his head against your chest, as Rhys and Feyre reached the room. Nyx lifted his head, his lip wobbled, as he met Azriel’s eyes. “Uncle Azzy, why can’t I hear Auntie’s heartbeat anymore?”
Feyre’s cries broke the silence as she also realized how still you had become. Rhys looked at his brother as he held Feyre close. Azriel didn’t miss that he held her closer than normal, not that he faulted his brother. Rhys’ throat bobbed as though he was trying to contain his emotions, for his mate, and his son. “How long?” The High Lord’s voice cracked.
“We fell asleep. Her memory came back last night.” Azriel picked up Nyx. “I woke up, she was gone.”
“She’s right there.” Nyx argued. “Auntie, didn’t leave.”
Feyre sniffled as Azriel pressed his cheek to his nephew’s head, “Her soul is gone, Little one. Her body was not meant to live as long as us. She aged and yesterday her soul left this plane of existence.”
Nyx’s eyes, so much like his father’s, lined with silver. “Will she be lonely? I don’t want her to be lonely.”
Azriel held the boy close not noticing Cassian rushing in, pain lacing the General’s face as he walked over to your body. Grabbing your limp hand Azriel whispered, “No she’s not alone, sweet prince. She’ll be busy.” Cassian kissed the top of your hand and Azriel tried to keep his composure.
“With what?”
Feyre answered, “Watching over us. She’ll want to see her favorite nephew grow up.” She walked over, opening her arms so that Azriel would hand Nyx. “Uncle Az needs a minute let’s go down and grab you something to eat.”
The small child simply nodded as he cried into his mother’s sweater. Rhys and Cassian lingered, “I’m sorry, Azriel.” Cassian was the first to speak. “She was a wonderful person.”
“A better friend,” Rhys interjected.
Azriel climbed back into the bed and pressed your lifeless corpse to his chest, allowing the tears to fall. “My perfect mate.” A shadow slithered from your ankle and swirled wildly until spotting its master. The lone shadow lingered by his ear whispering.
I’m Here
I’m With You.
Forever.
🌟🌟🌟
A century had passed without you though Azriel never felt alone. Not when one shadow would remind him you were near. Especially as he lay in the same bed you once did after a mission had gone terribly wrong leaving the spymaster fatally wounded. Sweat coated his brow as Nyx now a grown fae male held his hand, “Uncle Az, I’m sorry I should have listened.”
“Your stubborn, like your father, I’m used to it.” Azriel coughed and blood sputtered from his mouth just as said brother walked in, Cassian in tow.
Nyx rose, “Father, I.”
Fury laced Rhysand’s eyes, “Go see your mother, Uncle Cass and I will be having an at length discussion with you about following orders.” Guilt laced the young males’ features but to Azriel’s surprise, the prince puffed his chest out and walked out of the room, not sparing his brothers a second glance. Azriel smirked.
You would have been so proud of the male he has grown to be.
“He’s grown up so much, hasn’t he?” Your voice carried and Azriel’s head snapped toward the door. His shadows scurried away and began swirling around your body. Not the older woman you were when you left this world, no you were the young woman who braved the fae lands alone. The fierce youthful woman, Azriel had fallen in love with, the only difference was your skin had an ethereal glow and your dress of tool, sleeves draping off your shoulders and down your feet.
“Angel,” Azriel whispered smiling, as Rhysand and Cassian sat at either side of him.
“Madja, said that the wound was laced with poison, she said he might hallucinate.” Rhys spoke holding onto his brother’s hand as if the grip alone could keep him from disappearing.
“We have spent over 600 years together,” Cassian’s tears falling. Azriel’s eyes remained on you as you walked deeper into the room. “I was supposed to go first.” Cassian’s sobs were thunderous but were muffled to Az as he watched you place a hand on Rhys. The High Lord briefly looked over his shoulder as if he felt your touch.
“You noticed my shadow huh?” You giggled as your eyes met Azriel’s hazel ones “I promised you I would be with you. I kept it.” Azriel wanted to speak but you held up your hand, “Baby, save your words.” You looked over at your friends. “They need them more than me right now.” You moved and Azriel thought you glided from one spot to the other where you pressed a kiss to Cassian’s cheek. A gesture the general always returned. Cassian’s hand slid there tentatively as if remembering your sweet gesture from years ago.
“Cass,” Azriel’s lips chapped throat tight, “You are my dearest friend. Thank you, for being kind to me and showing me what a brother really looks like,” Cassian’s voice broke as he kissed Azriel’s knuckles.
“Fuck you, you prick. You can’t leave. Please don’t leave.” He choked out, Azriel’s gaze turned to Rhysand.
“Rhys.” Azriel wheezed, “It was an honor to serve as…your spymaster…” Rhysand silently cried as he rested his forehead against the shadowsinger’s knuckles. His shadows are still swirling and kissing you. Azriel continued, “Being your brother, and Nyx’s uncle…has…been my greatest…honor…go…easy… on him…” Rhys nodded not being able to form words.
You approached your mate, “My love.” His eyes fluttered shut as your hand reached out and cupped his cheek. “I have been granted the greatest gift.” You pressed your lips to his head, “I get to bring you home with me. We can be together again.”
Azriel hummed as another fit of cough erupted from his mouth jolting his two brothers’ alert. “Az, stay with us.” Rhysand’s voice grew panicked. “Azriel, please we still need you. Nyx needs you.”
Azriel’s eyes creaked open, and Cassian noticed life fading from them. “I love you both. Take care of each other.”
“Az-
Azriel cut the general off, “She…” both Cassian and Rhysand stilled, “is calling…me home…”
Rhysand and Cassian then looked to where his shadows were swirling, as if they could see you there. Cassian squeezed his hand fighting the tears. “Tell that little spitfire, hello for me.”
Azriel’s eyes began to droop. “I understand,” His violet eyes looked to where yours would be though he couldn’t see you, “I know you’ll take good care of him, like you did when you were here.”
You leaned down your breath lingering over Azriel’s lips, “It’s time to come back to me.” You kissed his lips and as you did, Azriel’s grip loosened from his brothers’. The roar of Cassian deafening. You pulled away from Azriel’s lifeless body only for hands to grip your waist hoisting you up, there was a glow to the now tanned arms, though his hands, no longer scarred, they were how he had always wished them to be, unharmed, undamaged. His nose grazed your skin, “I missed you too, Azriel.” He hummed.
“My Little Angel.” He pressed his lips to your cheek, “Take me home.”
You led him away, your hand adjusting to the now smooth skin of his own. He looked down at his hands and grinned, and your heart soared “No phantom pains, no ugliness.”
“They were never ugly, Azriel.” You scowled and kissed his knuckles. “Come now we must go.” You led Azriel away from his lifeless body, only to pause and turned to his shadows that were following the two of you, “Take care of them. You hear me.” The shadows nodded and swirled around Rhys and Cassian as if wrapping them in a snug blanket.
As they walked down the hall, glancing at Feyre holding a sobbing Nyx tear of her own, Azriel’s voice broke your concentration. “Tell me the story.” He didn’t need to elaborate.
You paused causing him to stop too, you pressed your lips to his, and he cupped your cheek. You put a hand to his chest and lightly pushed, “There once was a human girl, who fell in love with a fae male.” Azriel smiled as you led him to the afterlife.
His Perfect Little Angel.
~Fin
#azriel imagine#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel acomaf#azriel angst#kind of happy ending#azriel fanfic#acotar fanfiction#happily ever after#major character death
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jeongin fucking you within an inch of your life when he finds out one of his besties (beomgyu) has a little crush on you.. takes a video/picture and send it to him (with ur permission ofc) as a 'fuck you,' but next time he comes over jeongin invites him to join
thoughts?
THOUGHTS??? my thoughts are gone no thoughts only THIS!!! I’m gonna add a little beomgyu action too just cuz IDEAS!!! the second half of this may inspire a part 2 🤗
Jeongin is not happy, not at all, when he finds out that one of his best friends is not-so-secretly crushing on you. He finds out because of you; he sees that whenever the three of you hang out Beomgyu always laughs a little too hard at your jokes and sits a little too close for Jeongin’s comfort. And come to find out a week later you were recounting to your boyfriend the ridiculous story of how the boy had confessed randomly a few days before. Jeongin feels like he should find it funny but he really doesn’t at all. Jeongin grits his teeth when he hears the confirmation come from your lips— those pretty, smiley, innocent little lips. He can’t help himself as his hands come to pull you over his lap, your legs dangling off the side and your lips breathing over his. Your once bright smile faltered as you took in the sight of Jeongin’s face. He was mad, you knew that look well enough. His narrow, foxy eyes were dark and his lips pressed in a thin line of disapproval.
Jeongin had a hunch that that idiotic boy liked you too but now that it was confirmed it felt like a whole new level of annoyance. Jeongin’s lips graze over your neck and his whispers are delicate yet they breathe out the tiniest glimpse of venom. “Pathetic… baby, what did you tell him?? Tell me, now.” He demands and you immediately obey, your fingers clutching around the collar of his button up, your lips parting to let out a whimpering sigh. “I— I said that m’ not interested…” You voice cracks when his teeth dig into your skin, grating against your flushed skin, “I told Gyu that m’ all yours, Innie.”
Jeongin seemed satisfied with that as he pulled back, the swollen red shade of his lips matching that of the bruise he left on your neck, “Good girl, you did exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
“B-but, Innie, he kind of got mad at me,” You genuinely felt sadness warping your chest a s you said this. Your eyes lowering to his hand that gently rubbed your belly, the gentle graze of his fingertips making you warm, “I think he hates me now.”
Jeongin snorted at this, raising his hand to tilt your chin up to his face, “It’s not your fault, sweetheart, Beomgyu’s a prick sometimes,” And then he’s kissing you. And it starts off as those familiar kisses he always gave you. The ones that leave you breathless and dizzy; but then it escalates as his hand clasps at the back of your neck and his lips roughly mesh with yours. He starts the kiss and he’s also the one to escalate it. You simply comply because you always did for him, and you did so gladly.
That’s how he got you ass up with your face in a pillow, bellowing his name like a sinful mantra as his dick fucked in and out of you repeatedly. And it wasn’t slow or rhythmic; the pace of his hips was sporadic and oh so heavenly. He was moving in a way that you’ve never really felt with him. Fueled by the jealousy, the pure need to prove a point. Jeongin bit his lip as a groan swam out of his mouth, his eyes falling in your bouncing ass, watching as you fucked yourself back on his dick drowsily, drooling into the pillow below you. Jeongin couldn’t help himself, he moans out your name, squishing your plush waist, “It’ll only ever be me, right, doll? I know your body too well, you can’t even get off without my dick in you anymore, let alone someone else’s,” He chuckles at his own words, his eyes zoned in on your flushed cheeks as a fat tears swam from your eyes, spilling in a wet patch on the pillow you laid on. Then his gaze shifted as his phone screen lay alit, a notification opening his screen. A notification from his supposed best friend. Jeongin bends forward, opting to roll his hips into you now as he began checking the message.
He read it aloud for you, “Can I come over tonight? What do you think, babe, should we let your little admirer come over tonight?” Jeongin awaited your answer and you immediately shook your head no, sobbing out as you felt your orgasm rapidly zap through your poor, spent body. “No? Well, why not? Actually, let me record this so Beomgyu can hear your exact words.” Had you been in your right state of mind you’d immediately say no; push him away and reprimand the man. However, your body only ached to cum just as it did before this and before that. So you laid limp as your needy pussy began missing his rapid fucking. Jeongin began recording now, stilling his hips as he angled the camera to catch the way you fucked your self on his hard dick. Your ass bouncing back and forth on him as a little moan slipped past your lips, “Tell Beomgyu what you said, baby.” You whimpered, sinking into yourself as your body struggled to even fathom words. Jeongin sighed with an exaggerated click of his tongue and used his free hand to grip your hair and yank you backward, “Tell him now.” You tilted your head back, following the way he held you by your poor red scalp. You pouted and finally answered, “Don’t c-come over, Gyu…” Your voice was painfully wavered by the interruptions of your own moans. It satisfied Jeongin and he, on recording, slammed his hips into you once, making sure to catch your long moan and expression, before ending the video and hitting send carelessly.
Meanwhile, Beomgyu opened the video, unable to make out the first frame before it began playing. Then the screen before he was quite obvious. His screen obscured by the refreshing view of your little ass; he’d always wondered what it looked like beneath the skirts and pants you wore, now he knew. Beomgyu ogled at the screen, watching your ass fuck on his friend’s cock. Pure jealousy raged through him and he let out a little whispery sigh. Dick already hard in his pants as he listened to your stifled voice and pained whines tell him not to come over, telling him you were busy. Beomgyu groaned with annoyance, it was unfair. He watched the way you took Jeongin’s cock and it looked so snug in your cute little pussy. He longed to be in your boyfriend’s place; he ached for it. But instead he just took his cock out of his jeans and felt the warm enveloping feeling of his own palm per usual, eyes watching the video over and over again until he came like a whore over his own stomach.
#love me some jealous boys#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids hard hours#i.n smut#jeongin smut#txt smut#beomgyu smut#beomgyu hard thoughts#yang jeongin smut
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Thinking about Aventurine coming home after a long week of being "Aventurine".
He had to meet a lot of new, important contacts for the IPC, so he had to be on his A-game to get them on his side. It was a whole week of non-stop meetings, calculated interactions, and gambles. He was socially exhausted by the time he got to you.
Thankfully, you were one of the few people he confided in about his past. You didn't know all the details, but you knew enough. Enough so that he felt comfortable being Kakavasha instead of Aventurine when he was with you.
As soon as he walked through the door his smile dropped and his hand held his head.
"Are you okay?" You asked, getting up from where you were sitting on the couch.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a headache." He replied.
When he looked up to see you, a genuine smile painted his face and he moved to embrace you.
He was warm and smelled like amberwood and bergamot – a signature scent he was always donning. It was familiar and comforting to you, and you buried your face in his chest, inhaling.
His arms around you tightened, "I missed you." He whispered.
You looked up into his eyes and smiled, "I missed you too."
"Ow." His hand shot back up to his temple.
You leaned back from his embrace, worry evident in your features. "Are you sure you're okay? Did something happen?"
He wore a pained expression, "yeah I'm fine I think I'm just tired. This week was a lot; lots of difficult clients."
You cupped his face with your hands, "come on, you can lay on the couch and tell me about it."
You took his hand and guided him to the couch where you sat down, patting your lap for him to rest his head on.
This was a usual occurrence. Even before Aventurine had disclosed his past to you, you had noticed how he liked his hair being played with. It was a mindless thing for you at first, but once you noticed how much it relaxed him, you started making it a point to gently pet his head or run your fingers through his hair whenever he was stressed.
It wasn't until later that you learned that's how his older sister used to comfort him on nights they couldn't find food or when they had to hide from Katican raiders.
As soon as Aventurine laid his head down on your lap he sighed, closing his eyes for a second to relish in the familiarity and comfort of the position. He held your other hand against his chest, and you could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady.
You started to tenderly stroke his hair, gently combing his bangs back with your fingers as he told you about his week.
His hair was silky and smooth, slipping easily between your fingers and feeling soft against your skin. You mixed gentle strokes with firm massages against his temples and across the top of his head. Imagining each time that you were kneading and pushing the stress away.
As you played with his hair he started yawning, occasionally forgetting where he was at in his story. It wasn't long before his chest began to rise and fall in a familiar way that told you he was asleep. His head was slightly tilted to the side and his eyes were closed, his slave brand prominent against his neck.
You ran your finger over it, wishing you could knead and push it away like you always did with his stress and headaches. But it was a brand. It was forever. A mark that served as a testament to the horrors he went through. Not many others knew what it was, though. Otherwise, the 'Aventurine' that everyone knew would be outed as a fake immediately.
There was something ironic about how well he deceived people, when the crack in his deception was so blatant for them all to see. You supposed maybe that was just another way in which he was 'lucky'.
"Let your journey be forever peaceful, and your schemes forever concealed." You mumbled, shifting your gaze to his resting face.
You continued languidly stroking his hair, feeling the calm beat of his heart and gentle rise and fall of his chest.
You made a decision when you learned about his past that whoever he decided to be: Aventurine, Kakavasha, or someone in between, you would be there for him. You would be there to stroke his hair and ease his pains. You would be there when it was time to wake up.
So you stayed like that, brushing his hair and hoping he was having peaceful dreams as you laid against the back of the couch and watched as the sky lightened with a new day.
#UGH#will i ever be over this sad sad man?#probably not#posts#my writing#aventurine x reader#aventurine#hsr#hsr fics#aventurine fics#x reader
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Now I Shake My Mane
Second part to I Was Victim, I Was Quarry
Fandom: Mean Girls
Pairing: Regina George x Fem!Reader
Summary: After running into Regina years after graduation, you decide to take her up on her offer of a night out. Old feelings resurface with a vengeance and lead to new experiences.
Warning: Low self-confidence, reader gets a little tipsy
Tagging: @l1lass @fadering @autorasexy
Bass pounded in your ears. Flashing lights blinded your vision into dancing spots you tried to blink away. You squeezed past bodies and a few stools to reach the bar. Why you agreed to come out on a Friday night, you didn’t know. Crowds weren’t really your thing.
The bartender checked your ID and took your drink order. A simple Malibu with orange juice and grenadine—your comfort drink. You stayed close to the bar and sipped on your cocktail as your gaze swept the floor looking for her.
She hadn’t left your mind since running into her at the coffee shop. You mulled over what to do for the next week. Part of you wanted to throw her card out and put it all behind you while the other part yearned to see her again. All of your feelings resurfaced and muddled together—including the ones you’d found she reciprocated.
Her statuesque figure finally sauntered past the bouncer to enter the club. She still walked like she owned the place, like wherever she went was her domain—like an apex predator. She paused and scanned the dance floor before spotting you sitting at the bar.
You lifted your hand in a small wave to make sure she saw you. She grinned, and you swore it was genuine excitement from the way her eyes crinkled at the corners and the sparkle in her eye when she got close enough to see.
“You made it,” she said before greeting the bartender by name. She ordered a strawberry margarita without having to show her ID for verification of her age.
They probably knew her. Everybody in Evanston knew Regina George.
You gave a small smile. “I made it,” you repeated. “Wasn’t sure if I was going to, to be honest.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you stood me up.”
Regina slid onto the stool next to yours. It still felt strange to you, hanging out with your high school bully. You still found yourself on edge like it was all just a ruse and she was just waiting for the right moment to pounce. Even if she did appear to be sincere, the fear lingered in the back of your mind.
She turned towards you. “So, catch me up,” she said. “What have you been doing the past five years?”
You kept your story short and simple. You glanced over your higher education and your new job, how you finally had a place of your own, and how you had broken up with your boyfriend just within the last couple of months.
“Oh.” For a moment, you swore you could see a glimmer of disappointment, but it was swiftly masked with a laugh. “Yeah, boys are awful. They can never appreciate what’s right in front of them.”
“Yeah…” You couldn’t tell if she meant that as a compliment or just a general statement. Even after all these years, she was still hard to read. She’d been an expert at hiding her true intentions five years ago—there was no reason for you to think she’d lost that talent.
Regina touched your arm briefly. “Still, I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been hard for you.”
Trying to ignore the way your skin tingled beneath her hand, you shook your head. “No. I mean, not exactly. I cared for him, but…” You paused briefly to think of how to put it into words. “It just didn’t feel right, you know? We weren’t meant to be together.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” She sighed a bit in exaggeration, holding her head up with her palm. “I had my first girlfriend a couple years ago. Met her in New York. It was the same thing. She just wasn’t… It just didn’t work out,” she said.
She just wasn’t you.
You chuckled a bit and finished off the last of your drink. “Relationships suck,” you complained.
“Not if you find the right person.”
Her eyes stared into yours like she could see down to your deepest thoughts and darkest desires. Heat bloomed in your cheeks. You turned back to the bar and cleared your throat, calling the bartender over for another drink.
Regina smiled as you shied away from her advances. She could read you like a book—you were flattered that she was complimenting you. At the same time, you were still unsure about her, still had your guard up. The liquor would help take the walls down. Her goal wasn’t to get you drunk, but she did want you to feel more comfortable around her.
Your name fell from her lips like golden honey. You were almost appalled at how appealing it sounded to your ear and the way your body reacted. You turned back to her warily, trying desperately not to let it show on your face.
“I know this probably doesn’t mean much coming from me right now,” she said gently, “but you look beautiful tonight—you always have.”
A chuckle awkwardly burst its way out of you before you could think of a more appropriate response. “I look like a troll next to you, Regina,” you said. “I mean, look at me. I’m not anything special—not like you.”
You didn’t mean to say that last part out loud. The cocktail in your hand suddenly became much more interesting as you swirled your straw around the colorful liquor.
Regina huffed a laugh. “I’m not special,” she denied. “I’m just like any other mean girl who peaked in high school.”
“Mean girls don’t go out of their way to apologize.” You looked up at her through your lashes. “You’ve grown a lot, Regina. Me…” Sighing, you trailed off and took a sip of your drink before continuing. “I’m your typical victim-type who can’t move past stuff that happened when we were stupid teenagers,” you said.
She looked like she wanted to say something. Instead, she sighed and ordered two new drinks—one for her and one for you—when you both ended up finishing your current ones at the same time. Her eyes drifted over to the dance floor before she turned back to you with renewed energy.
“We should go dance.”
“Hell no,” you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not gonna embarrass myself like that.”
“Oh, come on, babe. Everyone’s drinking, nobody cares. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”
Your heart fluttered when she called you that. You were certain it had just slipped out and that she didn’t realize what she had said. But you wanted to hear it more—you wanted her to say it again.
The straw found purchase between your lips as you tried to drown out the growing allure radiating from Regina George. Your head was beginning to lighten the more liquor you consumed. Normally you didn’t drink so fast, but your nerves were on fire and you wanted to quell the flames.
Regina groaned. “Then will you do some shots with me? Just a few,” she clarified when you gave her a look. “I just think it’ll help you relax and allow yourself to have a good time.”
She pouted, pursing her berry-colored lips out playfully. You tried standing your ground but ended up groaning in defeat. She grinned when you reluctantly agreed to the shots and flagged down the bartender.
As it went, one shot turned into three, and you were feeling pretty good. The spirits no longer burned your throat and just warmed you up like a furnace from your stomach. You could definitely feel the effect—you loved it. Your head swam pleasantly and you no longer felt like Regina was out to get you or that you had to walk on eggshells around her.
Maybe you should have started drinking in high school.
Regina and you threw back another Vegas Bomb drop shot. A grin worked its way to your face as you then finished off what was left of your double-shot tequila sunrise in a single gulp.
The blonde at your side laughed and moved the glass away from you before you knocked it over. “Let’s slow down a bit, baby. I want you to remember tonight.”
“I’m still not dancing.” You pointed a finger at her.
She waved down the bartender for two waters. “I actually have something else in mind,” she said, “but you need to sober up a bit first.”
“I’m plenty sober.”
“You just did three shots, baby. It’s time for some water.”
Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. Maybe you weren’t completely sober, because as soon as the thought skittered across your mind, you blurted, “I like when you call me that.”
Regina raised a brow. Her lips pulled into a sly smirk as your eyes traveled there. You wanted to know how they would feel against your own. They looked like they’d be soft. Maybe they’d taste like the berry they’re colored after, or maybe there would be some sugar lingering from the lemon drop.
She shifted, and you quickly snapped your gaze back up. Maybe you were more under the influence than you thought. You took a long sip of water to help clear your head.
Her hand landed on your thigh. You nearly choked on your water at the touch. Your eyes glanced from her hand to her face. She watched you intently with a dark gleam in her eyes that stoked a small flame in your belly. You bit back a small noise at the overwhelming sensation.
“I need you to drink the water, baby,” she said, leaning in so her sweet breath hit your face, “because I don’t want us to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“You’re not.”
Slowly you raised your hand until your fingertips grazed her cheek. Her skin felt supple against yours, just as smooth and soft as you’d imagined it would be. She kept her eyes on you, watching carefully, not wanting to make a move that might potentially scare you off.
You sucked in a breath. “I’m sober enough to know what I want,” you murmured, “but tipsy enough to finally go through with it.”
Regina pressed forward until her lips fell onto yours. The kiss electrified your nerves. You slid your hand into her hair, wrapping your fingers at the roots to hold her close. A low noise came from the back of her throat before she made herself pull away—she wouldn’t have been able to stop if she didn’t.
“How do you feel?” Her gentle voice prompted you to open your eyes.
You let out an airy laugh. “Like I just lived out a childhood fantasy.”
Regina smiled and pulled away. Her hand remained on your thigh as she took a sip of her water. You followed suit, unable to downplay the elation gripping your heart. You’d been wanting to know what that would feel like for almost ten years. Now that you had, you had to laugh at yourself for being one of the oldest cliches.
You were in love with your high school bully.
#mean girls#mean girls 2024#regina george#regina george x reader#renee rapp#gxg#lesbian#wlw#wlw fanfic#request: fulfilled#imaginesappho
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𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒱 — 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓃
♕ A/N: Yeah so this hiatus has been so criminal. Honestly my “writers block” has just been insecurity. I’ve gotten into this bad habit of comparing my writing styles to others and that is such a viscous and toxic self attack. Long story short, I’m a little dummy who needs to remember why I got into fanfic writing in the first place, to have fun. If you feel like it. Please please please send feedback. There’s one final part left. Maybe some bonus chapters with the new season.
♕ SUMMARY: Oh, the most scandalous season of the year has come to pass. After quite the successful year for the Bridgerton’s the eldest son plans to throw his hat in the ring. Concurrently the Sharma sisters do just the same. One a spinster, the other hopeful romantic, and the middle daughter? What can be said about such a force that is not said when she enters the room. Good luck to all who pursue her.
♕ WORD COUNT: 4.7K
♕ WARNINGS: None
previous — Masterlist — next
BLINK. SMILE. NOD. You remind yourself every few seconds. Edwina leads the conversation with a jubilant smile.
Meanwhile, you tally each time Kate’s gaze meets your own as she watches you walk a tightrope, waiting for an inevitable fall. You sit out of place, Kate on your right and your mother on your left. Both rubbing the mustard yellow onto Edwina’s arms, your nose scrunching at the pungent wafts of Haldi. Each time Edwina’s gaze meets your own, you smile. You tilt your head, doing what you do best, offering your unwavering support—no matter how much your chest knots.
“Didi, are you okay? You are so quiet,” Edwina says, leaning forward to capture your gaze. You smile, lying through your teeth, “You are to be wed soon. I shall miss you, is all Bon.”
“You must calm yourself, Bon. Keep still,” Kate smiles down at a jittery Edwina. Her joy practically spills out, her every move indicating pure excitement.
”It is all so strange. I have faced a thousand tomorrows, but they all have been leading to this one,” You pause. Tomorrow. Every laugh, jest, slight—all of it leading to tomorrow. The day you make a fool of yourself—the mark of your first-ever regret. Though your mother speaks, the words do not reach you. The sinking in your chest renders you silent, almost queasy.
”Oh, it has...caused you doubts?” Kate’s cautious tone has your ears perking up, and your absent gaze finds Edwina. Your mother nudges you with a gentle smile, a reminder of her presence.
”Bringing the wedding forward is a sign of genuine feeling, but...well,” Edwina pauses, a sigh leaving her lips as she finds her words. Your heart was banging against your ribcage as Edwina glanced at you. “It has unnerved me. Didi, perhaps you should truly consider Lord Beauregard’s proposal. He’s a wonderful companion to you, and he seems to care. That way, we can navigate all this together.”
”I don’t know, Bon. It’s a lot to consider,” You tilt your head, a tight-lipped smile across your lips, "but right now is not about me or Lord Beauregard. It’s about you and the Viscount.”
“Your sister is right. Rest assured, Edwina, the Viscount adores you. He has devotedly courted you and made his intentions clear from our first arrival. Even going out of his way to procure (Y/n)’s and Kate’s approval. There is no lady better suited for the Viscount,” Your mother’s adoration beams on her prized child, your expression faltering nearly imperceptibly.
“I just—I still wish that when he looks at me, I could be certain that he truly loves me. Like—like—“ Edwina looks around as though the words sit in the room with all of you. Then her gaze finds yours again, “Like how Lord Beauregard looks at (Y/n). His fondness for
her is so evident, written right on his face. I fear, in fact, that the Viscount does not look at me often enough to even tell.”
Your mother and Kate glance at each other with a collective sigh. You lower your gaze, fiddling with the top lace of your peach gown and swallowing the sizzling golf ball in your throat. Kate speaks softly, this time avoiding your direction entirely, “Looks can be powerful, Bon, but also fleeting. Displays of mere passion, perhaps. Nothing more.”
”So the Viscount feels little passion for me?” Edwina exclaims, amusement dancing in her gaze as your mother chuckles. You force a chuckle from your lips, quiet and timid, the antithesis of your very being.
Clearing your throat, forcing a smile to the surface, you grin, “What Kate is failing at saying is that true love is different. It’s complicated and unpredictable. That’s the fun of it. It’s there when you least expect it. You worry now, but fear not, Bon, when it clicks, it clicks.”
“Since when have you become so knowledgeable about love, Miss, avoiding marriage and love?” Your mother teases. Each of your giggles fills the room, and for a moment, only a moment, the dread no longer exists. For a moment you are back in India, in your childhood home.
You cringe at the sudden intrusion, turmeric overwhelming your nostrils as Edwina’s hand gently swipes the mixture across your cheek. Her saccharine giggle contrasted with your wide-eyed stare. She speaks with a whimsical glint in her eyes. One like your own but doe-eyed and hopeful, not calculated and mischievous. “It is said, when spread on an unmarried person, Haldi will help them find a worthy partner that brings the complicated and unpredictable excitement too.”
”Well, Haldi can mind their business,” You tilt your head with a sarcastic smile, earning your mother's pointed stare. Kate chuckles and shakes her. Edwina turns to Kate, who offers a warning stare.
“Now, now. You shall receive it too,” Edwina says, stroking the Haldi across Kate’s cheeks. You fail to ignore the Haldi on your cheeks. It sits like a reminder that tomorrow will come whether you are prepared or not. You shall watch him marry Edwina. Your sister, nieces, and nephews shall be his—but never you.
“Hey!” You exclaim, once again pulled from your thoughts as your mother spreads Haldi across your chest. Reaching into the mixture only takes seconds before the four of you make a mess of it. The giggles are seemingly endless.
Despite the joyous moment, it’s fleeting as the hours seem to fly. Before you know it, you stand in a lavender gown that matches Kate's. You maintain an expression void of emotion, seemingly zoning out—the subtle indicators, near imperceptible. Light sweat coated your brow, and deep sighs left you as though the air was limited. You thank every and any god above for the smokescreen that keeps your beloved family from noticing. Sitting by the window as servants help Edwina prepare, you watch as Kate retrieves the gold bracelet with emeralds dancing across the band.
Edwina stands in front of the full-length mirror. Her eyebrows pinch at the sight she catches in the reflection. Her smile was curious and of awe, “Didi? What are those?”
”I brought them with us from home. I knew this season would be a success,” Kate smiles down at Edwina as she closely inspects them with a warm gaze. You keep your gaze outside the window, willing yourself to ignore every ailment that plagues you. Far too busy pondering potential ways to avoid attending Edwina’s pending nuptials.
Edwina’s head tilts as she searches for familiarity, “they are quite beautiful. How have I never seen them before?”
“They belonged to my mother. Amma wore them on her wedding day and saved them,” Edwina asks if they were saved for Kate. Kate chuckles lightly, “I brought them for you. I insist, beautiful bangles for a beautiful bride.”
”Will you wear them with me?” Edwina asks, but Kate shakes her head, assuring Edwina she will be no bride any time soon. Edwina’s gaze shifts to you, “Well then, Didi, you may very well be a bride soon. Could you wear one with me?”
“Bon—“ You sigh, your gaze meets Kate. The pity in your eyes only furthers the stir in your chest.
“I’m so nervous, but you are the bravest person I know. I don’t know, it may be silly, but wearing this, I shall have a piece of Kate with me up at the altar and knowing you’re wearing it too,” Edwina pauses, her gaze pleading as she holds the bracelet out to you, “It’ll be like we’re in this together. Maybe I can channel some of your courage.”
At the touch of your fingertips, the metal chills against your skin as it soon shackles you to your living nightmare. As Edwina returns to getting ready, you visibly falter for the first time. While your sweet little sister fails to see it, Kate’s quickly at your side. She excuses the both of you slyly, your hands trembling in hers as you both exit the room.
“Bon—“ Kate says, but you offer her a sharp, “don’t.”
You walk with haste to the nearest glass, throwing down a quick shot, ignoring Kate’s advisory against alcohol. Your eyes are misty as your defenses crumble around you. Taking a deep breath, you quickly steel yourself, marching back into the room, rendering Kate unable to console you.
It all passes in a blur as you stare absently out of the window once more. The arriving guests. The bracelets. The wedding gown. Your mother's gushing of Edwina’s beauty in her gown only fuels the fire that slowly burns from the inside out.
“Didi,” you gaze from the window onto your approaching sister. She smiles warmly, taking both your hands. Your heart caught in your throat when she said, “You love him.”
“Wha—I—uh?” You stammer, eyes widening as you try to wrap your brain around her easygoing persona.
“You should not be afraid to tell Lord Beauregard how you feel. You have been nothing like yourself, and I’ve forgotten you have not seen Lord Beauregard in some time now, and you shall see him today. Just tell him,” Edwina says, smiling sweetly. The panic fades into a tremendous relief as your shoulders fall.
“Today is your day. Don’t worry about me, Bon,” You smile, gently squeezing her hands.
“Oh, my beautiful girls,” Your mother says, her gaze moving between you. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, her eyebrow pinching, but the door opening steals her attention away. Concurrently, your body tenses.
“Come. Let us put all the nasty gossip behind us for once and for all,” Your mother stands, taking one of your hands and Edwina’s. Kate joins, taking your own and Edwina’s free hands. She offers you a comforting squeeze. “Let us give the ton a wedding to remember and show them who we truly are.”
Outside the curtains, you stand at Kate's side as if a prisoner were standing before the guillotine. Your corset seemingly constricting as your mind fails to move your legs. You grip Kate’s hand tighter, your ears ringing so loudly you can hardly hear your whisper to her, “I fear I cannot do this, Didi.”
”You are the strongest person I know, Bon. You can. I’m with you all the way. For better or worse,” she whispers. Looking up at her, you blink back tears, and a nervous chuckle leaves you with a final quick whisper: “It sounds as if we are to be wed.”
Kate lets out a soft as she gently pulls you along with her. Servants pull the sheer curtains away as you both pass through. Your gaze finds William in seconds, sitting with Aunt the Queen. His gaze was cold and focused on the groom. You never meet the groom's gaze despite it searing a hole into your head.
You curtsy to the Queen, and William’s gaze remains behind you. As you take your place behind Kate, your gaze meets the grooms for only a second—your breath hitch as you approach the entrance, awaiting the inevitable. A smile takes your face at the sight of your mother and Edwina. Despite everything, your dear little sister always amazes you with her beautiful presence.
Archbishop begins the ceremony, but his words do not reach you. The ringing of your ears grows louder, your right hand soon fiddling at your side. Your smile falters into an absent stare as the bangle on your wrist becomes more noticeable than the gown that covers much of your skin. You let out a shaky exhale, your left hand crushing the stems of your bouquet.
Squaring your shoulders, you take a deep breath and stare forward. A weak smile on your lips as Benedict shoots you a wink—the calm brief as your gaze meets the groom. You refocus on Benedict, but it’s mere seconds, and you both return. The bobbing of his Adams apple, light sweat above his brow, his gaze unfocused, hazy—perhaps you imagine it. You are in Edwina’s place, standing before Anthony, not with a joyous smile but a smug one. A reminder that each day would be a challenge, one you’d both happily accept—a future.
“My lord,” The Archbishop shatters the fantasy with a firmness, tearing your gaze from him; you focus on Kate’s shoulder.
A brief reprieve as the wedding crashes violently with the present reality. Your left hand grips the bouquet stems so tightly it rips beneath the force of your palm as your right hand trembles at your side, the bengal sliding menacingly around your wrist. You tense as your racing heart becomes your only focus, clashing with the loud ringing in your ears.
Anthony looks around the room, and again, his gaze finds you. Edwina’s eyebrows pinch as she follows his gaze. You do not look up from Kate’s shoulder, confident that one wrong move shall bring your end. Even as Edwina turns back, prompting Anthony, his gaze flicks to your unwavering stare on Kate’s shoulder. Your trembling hand matches the pace of your raging heart as you force your tears to remain in your lids.
“I, Lord Anthony Bridgerton,” Archbishop recites, his words ringing loudly in your ears as they hit you head-on. The bengal slips from your wrist, releasing you from its confines. Your eyes close with a sigh of relief as everything quiets. Anthony stands before you when your eyes open, holding the bengal out to you. You glance at Kate, her gaze panicked as she looks between Anthony and yourself.
Lifting your hand, you falter for a second; the moment has lasted far longer than it should. Your gaze locks with his own as you reach out cautiously. His thumb brushes against your own faintly at the touch of the metal. Muttering a thank you and apology, you return to your spot with your gaze low and lips pursed, holding the bengal not placing it back on.
“I need a moment!” Edwina shouts, her voice echoing through the silence. Your eyes widen, and she’s rushing down the aisle from the altar before you can even process. A sea of indiscernible chatter fills the room as you watch your mother rush after Edwina. It all soon returns, the ringing in your ears and your chest constricting. William rises from his seat, his gaze gentle as he stares at you. You look everywhere but at Anthony. Kate grabs your hand, pulling you back down the aisle out of the ceremony.
”—we will call for tea, and once you have something in your stomach, you will be strong enough to go back out there. The Viscount—“ You stand in the doorway, Kate standing a few paces in front of you, your mother a few in front of her. Edwina paces the room, taking deep, haggard breaths. Your mother fumbles to recover the moment, “The Viscount will understand, yes Kate? (Y/n), dear, perhaps you might find that tea—“
“It is not tea that I want; it is the truth!” You freeze in place as Edwina looks at you in a way you have never seen her look at anyone. Though words enter your mind, they do not leave your parted lips. Your mother voices her confusion as you stand as a deer in headlights, teary-eyed and guilty. Edwina continues mercilessly, “Still uncharacteristically quiet, sister, how telling of your deceitful nature!”
“I don’t understand what is happening,” Your mother's gaze bounces between you. Kate sidesteps in a failed attempt to hide you from Edwina’s view, your presence only furthering her rage.
“I shall tell you what is going on, Mama. Your daughter does not love chaos, as she claims. She loves destruction! Decimation at the tips of her fingers, slowly poisoning all she touches!” You blink through your tears, unable to find the words or even begin an explanation.
“Edwina—“ Kate interjects and appears to be the only intervention that deters from her verbal assault.
“Oh, you cannot deny it now, Kate! You enable her! You always have. The two of you are constantly deceiving me. Together in your deception! You knew! Didn’t you? You knew of her feelings for him, ” Edwina narrows her eyes at Kate, the implication of her words giving your Mother much-needed clarity. Meeting your mother's gaze, your head tilts, all but pleading for comfort without words.
“Alright, that is enough. No good can come from this at present. Let us all take a moment to calm ourselves, shall we,” Your mother says, moving to Edwina’s side. She sits Edwina down, dissolving into a bundle of tears. You try to voice an apology, but your Mother turns to you, speaking sternly, “I said that is enough. You have done enough today.”
”Mama, please. I didn’t want this, please. I’m sorry,” You cry, panting softly as your words spill out. The ringing in your ears returns and grows louder steadily with each passing second. Kate interjects only to receive the same sternness, “And you. You have kept so very much from me.”
”Mama, please,” You cry; reaching out for her, she pulls away and points to the door.
“Anywhere else right now, (Y/n),” She says. Rushing out of the doors, everything splinters into a heap of colors and sounds. You pant as though you have run miles rather than mere steps. When you rush into the first set of doors you find, you rush past several faces you cannot make out. Your breathing choppy and staggered, your hand trembling without pause as you pace vehemently.
“(Y/n),” You cringe at the sound of your name, shaking your head as sobs rattle you to your core. He takes your hands, guiding you to the floor. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“It’s not William. I’ve ruined everything; I’m a terrible sister—a terrible person,” You cry, shaking your head; he places a hand on your cheek, stilling you as he wipes a tear.
“You’re far from a terrible person. Stubborn, sure, but not terrible,” He chuckles, tilting his head down to meet your gaze.
“You don’t understand—“ Panting endlessly, William keeps his gaze locked on you and takes a deep breath in and out. He continues to do so until you follow, and even then, he continues for a few moments.
”I’ve made my intentions with you—my uh, my feelings very clear. And when I realized your impact on Anthony and me, I was angry and jealous. He’s so at ease with you even when you’re annoying him, and you seem to forget anyone else is around when the two of you interact,” William says with a slight smile. Your face falls at his words.
“William, I am so sorry—“ Your voice wavers and William chuckles, shaking his head before you can continue. He nudges your side with a grin.
“No apology needed. I only wish for you to be happy (Y/n) just as I wish for Anthony, and with time, your sister will share this sentiment. Of that, I am sure. I must warn you, though, things will grow far worse before they grow better,” William says, resting your head on his shoulder; he kisses the top of your head. You close your eyes, refocusing on deep breaths.
After a few minutes you clear your throat, “I should go, the last thing I need is another scandal.”
“You’re nothing but trouble, Miss Sharma,” William grins, shaking his head. A giggle leaves you as you wrap your arms around him, squeezing his tight.
”Thank you for this,” You mutter, squeezing a little tighter as he kisses the crown of your head once more. As you head back to the room, you pause as Kate sits outside with her head in her hands. She looks up at the sound of your approaching steps, quickly rising at your sight. Neither of you says a word before silently agreeing you both must face this head-on, accomplices. You knock gently upon the door, and Edwina’s face manages to sink even further at the sight of you.
“What?” She asks coldly; before you can get a word in, Kate inquires about your mother, but Edwina cuts her off, “You seem to know all. How could I possibly offer any insight of my own?”
”Edwina, please. Your anger is with me, not Kate,” You say, earning a huff in response.
“Mother is off, getting some air,” Edwina opens the door wider before moving from it entirely. You take a cautious step inside, still lingering by the door as Kate closes it behind the two of you.
“Edwina, I never wanted to hurt you. By the time I realized, it felt far too late to say something. So, I thought that I would swallow it down to avoid this because I wanted you to
be happy. I know you wanted this badly, but I didn’t realize how deep this ran. But it does not matter; I am unfit to be Viscountess, but you, you’re perfect for it,” Your voice wavers as her teary gaze meets your own. Edwina scoffs, shaking her head.
“He said the same thing. I half expected to discover that the two of you prepared it ahead of time. Perhaps it speaks to your compatibility or your deceitful nature,” Edwina shakes her head at you, her gaze cold as ice.
“Edwina, (Y/n) has always supported. You and I both know she is not deceitful. Misguided, certainly. Stubborn almost all the time. But she’s our sister,” Kate says, eyebrows pinching as her head tilts. Edwina’s gaze bounces between the two of you. Her eyes land on Kate.
“I do not know which pains me more. Both your betrayals or your pity,” Edwina says, her head held high with a conviction you never knew her to be capable of.
“Edwina, we are sisters—“ Kate takes a step toward her, reaching out for her hands but halts at Edwina’s next words, “Half-sister, with the misfortune of having (Y/n) as a sister. I want you both to recognize that I am a grown woman and for the first time in my life, I can make a decision based on what I would like.”
Edwina glances over at you, her at ease presence furthered unraveling your nerves, “I have already imagined the life I would lead with Lord Bridgerton as Viscountess at Aubrey Hall. It lives in my mind and is mine to do with as I like. So, if I choose to marry Anthony, it will be because it pleases me and no one else. I need you both to understand that. If I go through with this wedding, it will have nothing to do with either of you.”
You swallow thickly every version of reality where you have no place in her life evident. Kate's reassurances fall victim to the high pitch. Like nails to a chalkboard in your ears. Your personalized torture.
Kate remains at your side, the silence jarring. Uncertain of an appropriate reaction, you find yourself in a hazy void. You refuse the tears pushing at the edge of your lids, no words in reach to synthesize the depths of the pit in your chest. Time fuses into a distorted blend of unrelenting dread. The footman delivers the summons, the neat handwriting familiar.
Kate hesitates as you ask her to join you. Would it fuel the fire? Further the divide? Perhaps. Even still, you both cross the silks and satins of the entryway—the wedding hall. It's still as breathtaking as you all left it.
”You sent word for me?” Your eyebrows pinch as Anthony's words linger in the air. Kate answers as your lips merely part, and no words leave you. You glance at Kate, who mirrors your visible confusion. Approaching footsteps carrying the answers to each lingering question.
Edwina enters like the calm before a storm. Her hands clasped in front of her, her gait determined, and her mindset. She passes Kate without sparing her a glance, Edwina’s gaze bouncing between you and Anthony, “I have made my decision. I thought it best that you both hear it from me.”
“Edwina, perhaps we should speak privately,” Kate suggests, earning a mirthless chuckle.
“No, and quite frankly, I am giving our sister a courtesy I was not granted,” Edwina keeps her head high, her presence delicate yet commanding. She turns to Anthony, who has not looked away from you. A rare sight of pure vulnerability in your eyes as you look at Edwina. Silently pleading for forgiveness. A soft sigh leaves Edwina as she keeps her eyes on Anthony, not continuing until she has his full attention, “I cannot marry you, Lord Bridgerton. You cannot provide me with what it is I want. What it is that I deserve. What everyone deserves. I may not know exactly what true love feels like, but I certainly know what it is not. It is not deception or, wandering eyes, or a role to be fulfilled. I cannot marry you because I cannot betray myself. You will never meet my eyes in the same manner that you met my sisters on that altar today. You will never...”
Edwina falters, a sigh escaping her as she briefly glances toward you and back to Anthony, “You will never look at me the same way. I would be your Viscountess, your wife, the mother of your children, but I would never be yours because you’ll be hers.”
Your eyes find Anthony as her words seep into your bones. Edwina addresses you and Kate with words of contempt and eyes of sorrow. Her retreating form leaves a heavy silence as Kate rushes after her. Neither of you move, Anthony at the altar and yourself a few paces down the aisle.
“I thought I taught Edwina nothing, but I fear she too shares the ability to scorch the earth in a fit of rage,” You chuckle, the tight-lipped smile dissolving into a huff, “I have ruined everything.”
”You speak as though you did it alone,” Anthony says, meeting your gaze in the same spot where he was meant to recite his vows.
“I should go,” You whisper, watching as he glances off, seemingly pondering something. Clearing your throat, you square your shoulders, “Lord Bridgerton.”
”You should stay,” He says, an odd ease to his demeanor. You can only wonder if he feels the turmoil that rages within you. He tilts his head, “Your sister is braver and wiser than us both. She had the courage to act on what she sensed between us. And here we are, you ready to flee and myself standing perfectly still. We’ve felt it for months.”
You inhale sharply, and the reality is apparent: you cannot escape this. Speaking hardly above a whisper, you fidget with the skirts of your dress, “I’ve lit more than enough fires today. If I were wise, I would go.”
”Then, only for a moment, my pyromaniac, play the fool with me. Humor me in this inevitability, a fate that cannot be. Explore the untenable depths of our desires for this moment only before we face the reality waiting for us out there,” Anthony holds out his hand to you. His smile does not reach his eyes as you stare at his hand before you.
A sigh leaves you as you chew on your bottom lip. You cross your arms, raising your head high, “If I am to play the fool, you will have to address me by my proper honorific, of course.”
”And what’s that?” Anthony’s eyebrows pinch as you turn your head.
“Viscount Bridgerton, of course,” You smirk as the realization slowly dawns upon him. A hearty laugh leaves his lips as you accept his hand with a gentle grin.
“The sky could be falling in, and you would find a way to jest,” Anthony smiles as he shakes his head. You nod, chuckling beneath his gaze, far closer than you were a few seconds prior. Neither of you, aware of when or how you got so close. The warmth brings a merriment that blurs the line between what can and cannot be.
The violins.
The flowers.
The gossip eager Ton.
The bride and groom at an altar without wedding bells. ”I fear I have destroyed my relationship with my sister.”
“And I, with my best friend.”
You give his hands a gentle squeeze on your own, gasping as he pulls you forward. The touch of your lips light at the climax of your shared fantasy. As you both pull apart, the warmth chills. You are not husband and wife; you are a scandal.
A smudge on both of your reputations.
#bridgerton imagine#Bridgerton#bridgerton fanfiction#Bridgerton x reader#Anthony Bridgerton imagine#Anthony Bridgerton x reader#Anthony Bridgerton fanfiction#Benedict Bridgerton imagine#colin bridgerton imagine#Daphne bridgerton imagine#Eloise Bridgerton imagine#Penelope featherington imagine#Kate Sharma imagine#Kathani Sharma imagine#Edwina Sharma imagine#bridgerton au#Bridgerton au imagine#Anthony bridgerton au#Francesca Bridgerton imagine
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Really tired of streaming services making absolute banger animated TV shows for adults, never advertising them, then canceling then because no one watches them, so I'm taking it upon myself to share some of the ones I've watched recently with the hope other people will hear about them for the first time and give them a shot.
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Blue Eye Samurai
"A master of the sword lives life in disguise while seeking revenge in Edo-period Japan."
Probably one of my favorite animated shows of all time. Mizu, arguably one of the best sword masters in this time period, goes on a quest to eliminate four white men living in Japan, one of which is Mizu's father. The show focuses heavily on how factors outside of your control, such as race and gender, impact how others view you and how you view yourself.
Watch if you are a fan of: Complicated characters/relationships, revenge quests, gore, complicated relationships with gender and race, and absolute badass characters.
Where to Watch: Netflix
Undone
"After 28-year-old Alma nearly dies in a car accident, she finds that she has a new relationship with time; she develops this newfound relationship to find out the truth about her father's death."
Undone focuses on difficult relationships with family, including how your parents can have profound effects on you even after they're gone, and how to deal with grief. That, plus the added chaos of being able to travel through time.
Watch if you are a fan of: character studies, shows dealing with grief, time travel, trying to rewrite fate.
Where to watch: Prime
Scavengers Reign
"The crew of a damaged deep space freighter are stranded on a beautiful but dangerous planet."
A mix between sci-fi and horror, this show focuses on the crew of a crashed spaceship. Each (living) crew member of the ship escaped in pods, scattering them across the planet. They must fight to survive and make their way back to their ship on a planet featuring some of the most fucked up creatures I've ever seen.
Watch if you like: sci-fi, isolationist horror, body horror, creature features
Where to watch: At the moment, Max. As of May 31st, Netflix. Max canceled the show (even though it has a 100% rating 🙃). Netflix may make a season 2 depending on how many people watch it in the first few weeks after it comes to Netflix.
Harley Quinn
"The newly single Harley Quinn sets off to make it on her own as the criminal queenpin in Gotham City."
Honestly I was feeling a bit burnt out on super hero shows, but this one felt like a breath of fresh air. It follows Harley as steps out from the shadow of the Joker, no longer being one of his henchmen and struggling to find her identity as a single, independent villain.
Watch if you like: Superhero/villain shows, stories that focus on blurred lines instead of a clear distinction between good and evil.
Where to Watch: Max
Primal
"At the dawn of evolution, a caveman and a dinosaur on the brink of extinction bond over unfortunate tragedies and become each other's only hope of survival in a treacherous world."
This show is super unique in that there's basically no dialogue, but it still finds a way to display an absolutely gutwrenching relationship between two parents of different species going through shared grief.
Watch if you like: Brutality, heavily visual story telling, prehistoric stories, and tales of overcoming.
Where to Watch: Hulu
Love Death and Robots
"This collection of animated short stories spans several genres, including science fiction, fantasy, horror and comedy. World-class animation creators bring captivating stories to life in the form of a unique and visceral viewing experience. The animated anthology series includes tales that explore alternate histories, life for robots in a post-apocalyptic city and a plot for world domination by super-intelligent yogurt."
I love this show because you never have any clue what to expect. A siren living in a river falling for a deaf knight? An artist painting intergalactic art pieces? Three robots going on a field trip through the apocalypse to visit old human historical sites? You never know, but there's going to be love, death, and/or robots in it. Each episode varies wildly, so I'd recommend watching at least a few to get a taste for it, as some will resonate more strongly than others.
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I'm sure there are lots more excellent animated shows, but these are all the ones I've watched in the past year or so. I'd love to see more recs in the tags, because I'm always down to watch more cool animations!
#i just want these shows to get the attention they deserve#animation#tv#personal#the life of an audio engineer#tv recs
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No Benefits
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.
Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.
Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon
Chapter 7
Warnings: swearing, angst
Sam returned from dropping Cookie at her new home hoping he could get to his room and changed into workout gear without running into anyone. Unfortunately, luck wasn't with him and he heard someone in the kitchen. He decided to speed walk past and hope that whoever it was, was too busy to notice him. That didn't work out either and as he heard Bucky calling his name, Sam cursed softly before stopping.
"Hey Bucky, what's up?"
Bucky looked at him, confused "Why are you coming from the hangar? I didn't hear about any mission."
Sam shook his head "Just a quick errand, not a mission."
Bucky's brow furrowed "On a quinjet? What's the story?"
Sam smirked "Sorry, Terminator. It's classified, I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you." He laughed out loud as he walked away.
They met in the gym a short while later and Bucky kept needling Sam to find out what he was up to but Sam held his tongue, even after Bucky gave him a black eye.
In the wee hours of the next morning, Tony Stark was fighting off sleep when he received an email notification *Transfer of Personnel*. Curious, because he hadn't approved any changes, he read through the email growing more and more angry as he realized what it said. He turned up his music and cursed for 5 minutes straight. Once he calmed down, he composed and sent an urgent email.
The Avengers, their ancillary staff and the new head of intel for the compound all received emails accompanied by an alarm, meaning that whatever it was, was urgent, forcing all of them up and out of bed.
Bucky looked at his phone which said 4am, cursing and threw on a shirt and sweats before heading to the conference room. As he grew closer he saw other Avengers and some staff that he knew but others he wasn't familiar with, all trudging the same way he was. He looked at his phone and saw it was 4:15 and swore again. Some poor intern was standing at the conference room door, in her bathrobe and slippers, handing out coffees to anyone who wanted one. Bucky took one and nodded in thanks before sitting at the table by Steve and across from Nat, Sharon and Yelena.
"Why are you here punk? Doesn't being retired mean you don't have to deal with this bullshit?"
Steve shrugged "Ask Tony, we were up late working so I slept in my old room and he included me in his email."
When the room was almost full Tony came in hands shaking, from anger or caffeine was hard to tell but he'd obviously had too much of both. Sam followed behind him.
Tony cleared his throat.
"Alright. Everyone sit down and shut the Hell up."
He paused for a moment to let everyone settle down before he spoke with an edge to his voice
"I want all of you to know how absolutely fucking furious I am right now so you can appreciate how hard I'm working to control myself."
Everyone looked at him with tired eyes before he continued
"First, I want you all to meet our liaison with the intel office here, this is Dylan, supervisor for the Compound intelligence office."
Dylan stood and waved nervously before quickly sitting down.
Steve looked confused "Why won't Cookie be our contact anymore?"
Bucky straightened up and looked at Steve when he heard him mention Cookie. He noticed Sam hadn't said anything and knew he was closest to Cookie lately. Sam looked suspiciously calm, considering what Tony just told them.
Bucky jumped when Tony slapped the table and shouted
"I want to know which one of you assholes made Cookie leave without even saying goodbye? I woke up this morning to an email from Fury letting me know she moved to a different office." Tony paused, panting "I wanna know who is going to make my cookies now? One of you fuckers better step up and find a way to get her to come back or there will be Hell to pay."
Bucky sat back in his chair in shock. He had planned to talk to Cookie soon, he just felt so guilty over hurting her again and again. He knew she deserved better than a broken man like him and when he had finally convinced himself that he deserved to be happy and finally showed her how he felt and spent the night with her, Nat had pulled him into Antonia's web. All he had done since then was hurt her, repeatedly.
Tony hadn't stopped ranting until he looked at Bucky "It was you, Manchurian, wasn't it?" He looked over at Nat, then Sharon and Yelena "and you three. You were all controlled by Antonia, and that's fucked up no question but Cookie got a pretty bad deal in all this too and she considered all of you her friends. So what did you do?"
All four of them looked down at their hands and mumbled incoherently.
Sam cleared his throat
"They didn't do anything, not a god damned thing."
He looked pointedly at each of them "You all acted like acknowledging her would prove that you hurt her and Cookie was so worried that you all seeing her around was making your healing more difficult so she left to make your lives easier while not one of you could be bothered to even try talking to her or spare a thought for her feelings or healing."
Bucky looked at Sam "So where is she?" Something occurred to him "That's your secret mission yesterday, wasn't it? You took her away from me." he accused.
Sam shook his head "No Barnes, you pushed her away. Even after you've been cleared by medical, you didn't even try to talk to her. Just kept skulking around, making her feel guilty."
"But she didn't do anything wrong why would she feel guilty?" Bucky argued
Sam rolled his eyes. "Just take a minute to think about it, you'll get there."
Bucky slowly figured out what Sam was talking about and his head fell. He knew he needed to talk to her, even Dr Raynor who he had been seeing 3 times a week had pushed him to tell her but he hadn't felt ready for Cookie to confirm what he already knew. Even though it wasn't really his fault it was still him and their chances for any kind of relationship were dead.
Bucky felt his eyes fill with tears "It's my fault Cookie is gone but I need to find a way to talk to her and convince her to come home." He looked at Sam "Where is she?"
Sam shook his head "Not a chance. Not until Cookie gives me the ok. Sorry, tin man."
Bucky growled and hit the table, making Tony shout until Bucky glared at him before stalking out of the room.
When Tony was done ranting, Steve left to find Bucky. He went to Bucky's room but he wasn't there. Or in the kitchen or common room. Steve was ready to give up when Friday's alarm blared and announced that the sprinklers had come on in the Avengers private gym which was limited to the team and a select few agents. It was rarely used since the team was usually training with recruits, except for Bucky.
By the time Steve made it to the gym, Bucky was kneeling in the middle of the destroyed room, breathing heavily, sprinklers raining down on him.
"It's my fault, Steve. I fucked everything up and now she's gone." He shook his head "I can't do this without her, I don't know how to deal with all of this every day without her by my side like she has been for the last 2 years." He looked at Steve sadly "What do I do now? How can I get her back?"
Steve shrugged and shook his head "I don't know Buck, I just don't know."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In her new city, Cookie woke up in her new townhouse and got ready for her first day in a new office. Considering how the compound had felt recently she enjoyed having her own kitchen and living area. No one avoiding or ignoring her, making her feel bad for just existing in their space.
Different office but the same job and she already knew all of the analysts here, had hired most of them, but people behaved differently when the boss was around.
It was a beautiful spring day so Cookie decided to walk the short distance to her office. Like the compound her department only took up a floor but instead of Avengers they were surrounded by CIA agents, definitely not as friendly but that was fine with her. Cookie was more interested in work than any personal entanglements with her co-workers.
Cookie entered the building and went directly to S.W.O.R.D. Director Tyler Hayward. He was an ambitious man who wasn't thrilled to have someone in 'his office' who reported to someone else and wasn't in his control but he wasn't going to risk going against Fury so affixed a fake smile to his face and welcomed Cookie to the office.
They spoke for a few minutes before he led her to a conference room to meet with all of the analysts that report to Cookie. Annie was the senior analyst and had known Cookie for a few years so showed her to her new office.
Annie and Cookie had become good long distance friends, bonding over their shared love of mystery books.
When they arrived in Cookies office, Annie told her about a new book release by an author they both loved. The party was this coming Saturday and the publishing company had their offices a few buildings over. Annie had been able to get her name on the guest list and wanted Cookie to be her plus one since Annie's girlfriend didn't care for mysteries.
Cookie responded enthusiastically and they planned to have a late dinner after the party. Cookie was excited to have the opportunity to look around Boston and maybe meet Harland Thrombey.
She thought to herself. Maybe the move wouldn't be so bad after all.
Cookie had a busy week getting settled into her new office and butting heads with Tyler over some tips she had offered to streamline some of their processes. She went to work for a few hours on Saturday before meeting Annie for a mani-pedi after lunch. She went home to get dressed in a purple, silk, cocktail dress with a deep v-neck that fell just above her knees. Adding black stilettos and clutch to complete the look.
She met Annie at the entrance to the building, they checked each other out appreciatively and linked arms as they walked into the party.
A tall, well built, dark blonde haired man noticed Cookie's entrance and his bright blue eyes followed her around the room, after deciding the tall woman he had never seen before would be the evenings prey.
He approached them as she was getting a drink "You're new in town."
Cookie looked at him curiously, feeling her face heat up as he so obviously checked her out. She nodded "I am. Are you the welcoming committee?"
The man nodded "For a lady as pretty as you, I will endeavour to be welcoming." He took her hand and kissed the back "Ransom Drysdale, pleased to meet you."
"I'm Y/N Y/L/N but my friends call me Cookie, this is my friend Annie. Your name is familiar but I can't- oh my gosh you're Harland Thrombey's grandson. One of the VP's here."
Ransom smiled and made a small bow "That's me. Would you like to meet him?"
Annie and Cookie nodded enthusiastically and took the arms Ransom offered to lead her over to meet his grandfather who was as kind and gracious as she hoped he would be. Unfortunately the party was crowded and there were many others waiting to meet the author, so they only chatted for a few minutes.
Shortly after they met Harland, Annie's girlfriend called, asking her to pick up some infants pain killer as their daughter had woken up from teething pain. She tried to apologize but Cookie shooed her away and promised she would find her own way home.
As soon as Annie was out of sight, Ransom smiled at Cookie and licked his lips. "So, Cookie, do you want to get out of here? My club has a great late supper menu if you're hungry or I'm sure we can find something to do."
@erelierraceala @capswife @ozwriterchick @cjand10 @wintrsoldrluvr @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @browneyedgrli @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hhiggs @dontworryboutitsweetheart-blog @behindmygreyeyes @pattiemac1 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @calwitch @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @ordelixx @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scott-loki-barnes @selella
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#angst with a happy ending#james bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#no benefits
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Lucretia would love to say that there wasn't much that surprised her anymore, but that was horribly inaccurate and incredibly easy to prove false. Last week, she had been surprised to tears when Merle held her hand, even though Merle held her hand all the time (he did that even with his memories gone, though it had been much more weird for both of them then). And even two days ago, she had nearly startled herself to hell and back when Angus told her that "you actually don't hide your depression symptoms very well, ma'am" and "maybe you need to seek some professional help? I have some great therapists I can recommend!"
Anyway.
No, Lucretia couldn't say she wasn't hard to surprise. But despite knowing all of that, standing in the tiny living room of Magnus's childhood home, getting hugged by two women whose arms wrapped around her the exact way Magnus's did? Cut her some slack, why wouldn't that be surprising?
"Thank you for staying with him," one of Magnus's moms said— Amelia? Fuck, of course Lucretia knew it was Amelia, she had drawn her dozens of times, recreating and refixing the worn-down photo that Magnus insisted on keeping on him the first few years of their century running from the Hunger.
The words, "but I didn't" got stuck in Lucretia's mouth. She swallowed around the, and couldn't bring herself to do anything more than just nod. Gods. Fuck.
Magnus had been the one to tell her of the Planar Belts. Lup was supposed to have, apparently, but Magnus caught her first. An hour in their home plane wasn't a lot but the seven of them had far grown used to working under weird, constrictive time limits. And while they were still tracking down Lucretia's brother, Magnus's moms hadn't been hard to find at all. Story and Song had stretched across their planar system, yes, but the Hunger had already touched down when it did. And thus, every single planar system inside it heard it, too.
Lucretia had spent a lot of time after that wondering what her brother thought of her. And standing here with Magnus's moms doubled the thoughts' intensity. Would he be proud? Teary, like Amelia? Speechless, like his step-mom? Had he been worried about her? Had he given up on her coming back? Was he even still alive?
A small gust of wind caught against her skin and Lucretia looked up to see they were outside. Gods, she needed to get a grip on herself. How much time had passed? How much time did they have left?
A hand tugged on hers, leading her to sit down. It was Magnus. She settled onto a picnic bench in their back garden, surrounded by dozens and dozens of flowers.
This was not the first time she had been to this house. The memory was old, but the scent of rosemary brought it back. She and Magnus, much, much younger than they were now, still in their Institution days, back when the Institution of Planar Research had yet to tack the "And Exploration" onto the end of their name. They had been roommates for a semester, back when they both started out. Magnus had convinced her to spend Candlenights out here and she had felt much the same as she did now.
Yearning. For her brother, for a life she didn't yet have, and a life she hadn't begun to know.
Helplessness. Away from home for the first time, in the wake of her mother's death and her father's withdrawal into himself. Trying to figure out who she was in the world.
And hopefulness. Winter had been bitter, but it hadn't snowed, and Amelia was, in Magnus's words, "an expert at seasonal plants." Their garden had still been full and lush and while she had been invited to help tend to it, she hadn't wanted to, in fear of breaking something by accident.
That version of herself felt foreign now. How could Lucretia possibly break anything worse than what she had already done to her family?
Magnus nestled into her side as she lifted her head, trying to blink away tears.
"Ma said she's gonna get some new plants," Magnus said. "As 'celebration'." Lucretia snorted a little bit at the way he said it— Amelia Burnsides thought every event, no matter how big or small, was worthy of new plants. "You still like cornflower, right? 'Cause I told her to get cornflower for you."
"I—" Lucretia said, her throat suddenly a little tight. She turned away. Magnus didn't budge, merely wrapping an arm around her and holding tightly. Lucretia cleared her throat, trying to get a hold of herself. But instead of answering, her mouth said, "thank you for staying with me."
Magnus didn't respond, just squeezing her slightly. She wiped at her eyes, looking up towards the horizon. The two suns overlapped like flower petals. The wind chime played a little melody in the wind.
"Cornflowers are good," Lucretia said at last. "It's— tell her that'd be great, Magnus."
"Tell her yourself," Magnus said.
#magnus burnsides#lucretia#taz#taz balance#ise cube writing#mine#enjoy! i've been thinking about them a lot
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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
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i’ve never loved anything in my life as a footnote.
music? i listen to it everyday just to never be alone with my thoughts. i memorize the chords and the artists name, why they wrote the song and how they connect to it. i psychoanalyse every lyric, i research the producer and what they have spoken about the song and why they chose to go for that beat. i listen to the live version and pay attention to the singers voice and how they enunciate every word their feeling etched into each delivery. i have music tattooed on my heart.
books? i live in them. i emerge myself in the fantasies of others savoring the stories of characters i’ll never personally know. i live in the little fantasies annotating words that make me feel what no human could ever. i make pinterest boards, spotify playlists, even posters, as a way to show my love for them. i rave about it to my friends and still sit in wonder at the end of the day at how words on paper can make me feel alive, can bring me new emotions i’m still yet discovering.
movies? they’re my religion, another form of escape from this world. i watch actors play a part bringing it to life the same way i do in my day to day fantasies. i watch the story evolve and how the director find ways to tell it in 1-3 hours. months of work finally coming together to make the final product. i delve into the actors lives, the set team, hoping ill be able to fill the void set there the second the screen turned black.
i log everything i do.
i watched a movie? letterboxd. i read a book? goodreads. i listened to an album? aoty.
everything i love, everyone i love, will always be important to me. i make a list of thing in my notes app i know you love, your little habits, the color of your eyes when you look at the sun for too long, because i cant afford to not love. i fear my time on earth to be wasted by not giving everything my all. i memorize lines from poetry that make me feel seen, i put posters on my wall for the art i appreciate, i decorate my room in my favorite color just to make the point clear that i love it. ill hug you a dozen times a day and make sure you feel alright. because sometimes loving everything and everyone else more than yourself is easier maybe im scared that if i take away everything i love i wont be sure about who i am. in the dead of night when im alone with my thoughts, without a book in my hand, or headphones blasting music, who am i? the song has ended but the melodies continue, in my head they go round making no space for the thoughts i’m afraid will creep in.
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An Unconventional Debut: A Bridgerton AU story — Remy LeBeau x F!Reader
~Part 1
Tags: slow burn, jealousy, teasing, scandals, forbidden love, and debauchery
Prompt: Reader, who comes from the esteemed Everleigh Family, finds herself named Diamond of the Season by the Queen herself. many eligible bachelors are vying for her attention and potential hand in marriage, but she only wants to marry for love. Will she find it, or will her family arrange a marriage for her?
Prelude:
The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow upon your face as you exited Madame Delacroix's dress shop with your handmaid. A triumphant smile played upon your lips. The sapphire gown you'd chosen for the Trowbridge Ball had been a resounding success, and today's fitting for the upcoming Stafford Soiree promised to be just as delightful.
As you descended the steps, lost in a vision of silk and tulle, you collided with a figure as you exited the shop. With a startled yelp, you stumbled back, only to find a strong hand steady your elbow.
Looking up, you found herself face to face with a stranger. He was tall and handsome, with chocolate tresses tied back, a few loose strands grazing his cheekbones. His eyes were unusual, unlike anything you'd ever seen that held the glint of both amusement and something akin to surprise.
"Forgive me, Miss...?" he said, his voice a deep baritone, "seems ah done lost my mind for a second there, chérie."
"Everleigh," you responded, nearly breathless by how strikingly pretty he was for a gentleman. His accent was what really drew you to him. It was so unusual but it peaked your interest in him even moreso.
Regaining your composure, you realised with a jolt who this intriguing gentleman was. Monsieur Remy Lebeau, the enigmatic new arrival who had set tongues wagging throughout London.
"No harm done, Monsieur LeBeau," you replied, a touch of amusement dancing in your own eyes.
A smile played on his lips. "Excusez-moi, Mademoiselle. But where could a charmin' flower like yourself be bloomin' off to so quickly?"
You, ever the picture of propriety, explained your errand to Madame Delacroix's.
"Ah," he said, a hint of intrigue in his voice, "preparin' for another conquest, I see."
"Hardly, Monsieur," you countered, a touch of defiance in your tone. "A lady simply enjoys a beautiful gown."
Your gazes locked for a moment, a spark of something unexpected passing between you. Then, with a slight bow, Monsieur LeBeau took your hand and brushed it with a light kiss.
"Until we meet again, Miss Everleigh," he said, his voice a low murmur laced with French charm. "May your gown be as dazzlin' as you are, cherie. Tout le monde va être hypnotisé."
Flustered, you could only manage a breathless "Thank you," before he turned and strolled down the street, leaving your heart pounding a wild rhythm against your ribs. Perhaps the Stafford Soiree held more in store than just a new gown.
Once you'd returned home with your handmaid, you couldn't wait to have another run in with Monsieur Labeau. Perhaps you'd see him at the upcoming ball.
Your mother, Miss Alice Everleigh, noticed your giddiness. "My my, what's got my daughter so giddy this afternoon?" she inquired, quirking a brow as she sipped on her tea.
"I just met the most unusual gentleman while on my way home," you replied, lazily sitting down on the bergère.
"Oh, do tell." Your mother quipped, suddenly interested in what you had to tell her as she sat opposite from you on the chaise longue.
You were the only child of the Everleigh family, so securing a husband was detrimental. Luckily for you, you were named Diamond of the Season, so you should have no trouble finding a husband to secure your family's wealth.
"Monsieur Remy LeBeau. Have you heard the man speak? He had me weak in the knees, mother."
Your mother's eyes went wide, nearly slamming her cup of tea down on the table. "You are to stay away from him. I've heard of his reputation and you will not succumb to being another one of his...desserrés," your mother scoffed, appalled that you'd already made his acquaintance.
"Oh, do calm yourself mother. I merely just met him," you rolled your eyes.
"I'm sorry darling, it's just that you'll have a lot of gentleman vying for your attention this season and securing a husband, the right husband, is detriment to your standards, our standards as this family. We've worked so hard to get you to this point love," she explained, hoping to talk some sense into you.
You rolled your eyes, now more than ever, wanting nothing more than to retire for the night.
"I understand, mama."
That didn't stop you from dreaming about Remy that night though. His accent spoke pretty words in your ear as you dreamt of him, dreamt sinful things no lady in waiting should dream of.
The ball couldn't come soon enough.
#xmen#x men 97#remy lebeau#gambit#gambit x reader#remy lebeau x reader#bridgerton au#xmen au#Spotify
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Okay everyone, get ready for a long as hell post.
Tw, suicide attempt, suicide, suicide talk
This is my really indepth Shawn hc that is more of just straight up a story at this point
So STRAP IN!
Okay, so during the ten years, at some point Shawn is super duper depressed. He's not going well at all. He's thinking of offing himself, and he has it all planned out. But, he calls his dad first, in hopes that despite their rocky relationship his dad will talk him out of it. But, as soon as his dad picks up the phone...well, you know Henry, he assumes the worst. So Henry is already yelling at him, why are you calling, what do you need now, blah blah blah, so shawn hangs up on him without ever getting a word in edgewise, he never gets to tell him why he called, and now it's just confirmed to him that he should end it and he's feeling a little spiteful too, so he downs a bottle of painkillers, one of the ones with the candy coating, yknow? He only survives bc he didn't care to lock his apartment door and one of the random girls he's always hooking up with came by to get something she accidentally left there, he doesn't answer but the door isn't locked so she thinks she'll just slip in an get her stuff, but instead she finds shawn and gets him an ambulance. After Shawn gets better, he either manages to charisma his way into convincing the doctors that it wasn't *really* a suicide attempt and gets realesed or does his regular sneaky shit and escapes and dips town so he doesn't have to do any therapy or go to grippy sock jail.
To this day, Henry doesn't know, GUS doesn't know, NO ONE KNOWS, *shawn tells NO ONE*
And he can't take advil anymore, can't stand the candy coating.
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Hear me out, him accidentally letting it slip during a big argument with Henry
I'm thinking Shawn says something that alludes to what happened during the argument without out right saying it so Henry gets to be more confused than angry as Shawn realizes what he almost reveals and completely shuts down refisung to elaborate
I'm imaging that scene in modern family where Alex accidentally mentions to her dad that she did stuff she wasn't supposed to as a teen and slowly backs out of the room
-------
And I could go on a whole rant about the candy coated painkillers, and I will!
The idea of picking something that's supposed to be sweet, that is supposed to go down easier
Because that's kind of the whole point of candy coating, and Advil tastes good as hell, I don't care what anybody says
He chose something that would be sweet and go down easy for his final moments
But it ended up sickly sweet
And it still got stuck in his throat
And it burnt on the way down
He started out tasting good (there's a reason Advils child lock game is so good) but it ended up tasting awful and burning
The burn and pain contrasted with how he thought he would go out
(Maybe even a perfect metaphor for his relationship with his father too....)
The taste is stuck in his mouth forever, a taste he can never forget
The sickly sweet burn of a whole bottle of candy coated painkillers
And even just the term "Candy Coated Painkillers" feels kind of perfect for Shawn, like aiygjvifjtjejjdksndh
---
Also the fact that he never tells Gus? AUGHH hits me right in the heart
He doesn't call his mom or his best friend, he doesn't tell them, they wouldn't even know until after he was long gone
-----
Maybe Lassie finds out at some point, finally switching gears from looking for something in his criminal record to checking his medical history
Or as a favor for Juliet (thank you Sid/@obsidiancreates ) to find out the truth about a scar he won't tell her about
Lassie doesn't tell anyone, but he does switch out Juliet's stash of Advil for Tylenol, no candy coating.
Shawn finds out he knows because he gets protective of all the new suicide cases in a completely different way than before
Shawn has to tell him to tone it down before Gus starts getting suspicious
-------
And then of course, there's the major angst potential of an AU where Shawn /does/ die
Especially if told from Henry's perspective...
Especially if all of Psych is just Henry imagining what could have been if Shawn didn't die......
But that's all for now!
Enjoy, angst lovers!
[Thanks to @obsidiancreates and @mores0 for talking with me about this AT LENGTH in the Psych discord :)]
#tw sui ideation#tw sui implied#tw sui attempt#tw sui talk#advil#Tylenol mention#pain killers#henry spencer#shawn spencer#psych#burton guster#carlton lassiter#juliet o'hara#Madeleine Spencer mention#psych tv#psych usa#au#hc#🍍#read at your own risk#angst#idea#discord
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the thing is when i say that red robin #1-12 managed to age better than any other reborn title and i'm not even joking is that i know how that sounds funny because 1) i know what out of context panels did to fandom understandings of tim and dick & tim and 2) i know there's a lot of flaws inherent from the time period it was written in in it that gets it a lot of flack.
however. however. ignoring those things, i'm not exaggerating when i say that red robin #1-12 is genuinely almost a marvel in comics storytelling from a *narrative standpoint* in that it truly showcases what the strength of comics as a long-form but at the same time ever changing media *could be*.
because red robin starts at a issue #1--it's a change to the status quo that means you need to quickly introduce the concepts, characters, relationships and their dynamics for new readers to catch up while telling a new story that doesn't actually require knowing the past 80 years of continuity. and despite what fandom says sometimes, red robin is actually fairly competent at that--it lays out a new narrative challenge, quickly reviews how we got to the current narrative challenge, showcases the protagonist overcoming that challenge, & lays a cleanslate groundwork for storytelling beyond it. someone could, in fact, go into it as a first comic & get the gist of things. it does all that fairly well, actually. (yes, even the dick & tim & the resolving of their conflict--the key is actually reading it)
but at the same time, it is an absolute reward if you *have* read the previous 20 years of tim's comics/tim from the start. yost clearly knew a lot about tim & his history--when he was tasked with creating a story arc for tim to transition from robin to red robin he *did his fucking homework*. yost drew from tim's past themes, arcs, relationships & relationship dynamics. he looked at how tim initially transitioned from boy who figured out who batman & robin are to becoming robin. it's not a coincidence that tim's transition from robin -> red robin when read in his relation to his transition from tim -> robin has a lot of similar themes and motifs while *still managing to be a new intepretation of them*. it's not a coincidence that tim in identity crisis i has self hatred from his mother's death that manifests in anger & ultimately tim deciding that he has to do something to save bruce, even if it means he doesn't deserve to be robin and he undergoes a similar arc in red robin with bruce's death. it's not a coincidence that yost was tasked to write an arc where tim comes into his own as a hero as he decides tim needs to travel the world (including paris), the way he's sent away to paris for further training before he can *really* feel like he deserves to be robin like he does in robin i. yost knows that tim sends himself away when he needs to find himself. it's not a coincidence that yost decides to use the league of assassins for a story that flirts with tim having to make compromises like tim dealt with in robin i with lady shiva & king snake. it's not coincidence that he calls back extensively to a lonely place of dying and resurrection of ra's al ghul and prodigal with dick and tim and trust and falling and everything. it's not a coincidence that he has tim blow up the league computers in a way that references tim doing something similar with league computers in legacy. it's not a coincidence you can find parallels to knightfall era dynamics in there. it's not a coincidence that tim almost giving up in the desert can be read in tandem to tim almost giving up on his life in contagion & legacy and fit together very interestingly.
also consider how yost adds in new characters of pru & tam as tim side characters as tim is a character meant to play off others and gives them personality & their own motivations outside of tim like his friends have always historically had along with harkening back to tim as a team up guy who will give anyone a chance. there is so much history yost wove into the very structure of the entire story arc in a way that shows absolute respect for eveything that came before while *still managing to do his own thing*. it is genuinely everything that people want comics to do--carry over important themes and story arcs while still being fresh & not too derivative or just re-telling the same story over and over again. it respects continuity and character history while progressing it. despite its flaws--and it does have them, don't get me wrong--if you look at it from a *comics storytelling* perspective, it manages to achieve what the ideal fusion of respecting the long-form history of comics while creating something that is also a viable, new jumping off point. red robin #1-12 has a lot of respect for *what comics can be capable of as a narrative storytelling medium* and the things you can achieve while respecting both a long, convoluted narrative history & that comics as a medium requires soft resets to make things easier for new fans to jump in to reduce the gatekeeping load.
so when i say red robin #1-12, aged best out of all the reborn comics *this is what i mean*. despite the surface flaws, narratively it achieved so much of what comics with a long history are inherently capable of as a medium. it is a story that is new, yet fits so well with everything that came before it. compare that to morrison's batman and robin, where morrison only cared about how characters could service their grand vision for a story in a way that shows no respect to the past 30 years of dick's storytelling & completely isolated him from the greater universe, because they wanted dick grayson the concept as batman, not dick grayson the character as batman. compare that to how bqm ignored bascially all past steph characterization to turn steph into a 2009 cw "awkward but hot new girl" type protagonist (seriously, she would not be out of place as the protagonist of hellcats. the dynamics of the new girl who just doesn't fit in with the sorority girls of her campus is also not out of place for a cw show like hellcats. the side characters as one dimensional strawmen is peak cw. i would argue red robin didn't treat female characters fantastic, but it did somehow manage to do better than batgirl on this alone lol). red robin #1-12 demonstrates a lot more longevity and solidity as a narrative piece within the greater universe because of all this. imo.
#ik it's trendy to hate red robin but i'm sorry#it is a narrative marvel within the medium & i'm not gonna pretend it's not
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So, i was supposed to be an arcane nexus. The 7th son of the 7th son, my birth was supposed to 'bring about the restoration of my clans magical talents'. Only it didn't happen, and kept not happening for 20 years. My family thinks they got the math wrong and its gonna happen when i get my magic. But i recently figured something out Im trans. Meaning i was never the 7th son, im never going to get magic, not my dad's anyway. How do i tell him. I don't think he'll have a problem with it. But basically having to tell him he's gonna have to go make me a little brother, because i found the math error is gonna be really awkward.
First of all, congratulations! I hope you can find time to celebrate this moment of self-discovery and to delight in all the wonderful things yet to come as you embark on your life as a trans person. I understand that this throws your family's plans rather into disarray, but it's also rather affirming, in its way. The magic you “ought” to have inherited recognised your true gender before you did!
How you handle this really depends on your relationship with your parents. You said you don't think your dad will have an issue with your gender identity, which certainly makes things easier. There is plenty of advice out there on the matter of coming out to one's family. If you're not sure where to start, your local library will likely have some helpful resources to get you started.
On the magical side of things, I'm afraid you're quite right in thinking you probably won't be blessed with magical ability any time soon. If the inheritance calls for sons then sons it must have. However, as your own experience aptly demonstrates, magic responds to reality in a far more holistic sense than the merely biological.
You are not a man. You know this of yourself, and while your biology may have caused some confusion on the matter up to this point, it was not the whole story. Magic responds to the whole story.
As such, your parents need not scrabble around trying to have another child biologically. They might adopt a seventh son instead – and that son need not even be a child. In fact, there are some individuals who offer themselves up for adoption for a fee, fulfilling prophecies or magical inheritances to whoever makes them the best deal.
If your parents are considering that avenue, I recommend they secure the services of a solicitor with plenty of experience in liminal contract work. Look for any firm that advertises themselves as “good folk”, “honest neighbours” or similar.
You aren't responsible for the expectations other people place on you. Concentrate on celebrating your new identity, and leave the rest to your parents. After all, it was their failure of imagination that got them into this situation. Being trans is hardly as unusual as all that, and if they'd really wanted to secure the family's magical future, they could have given you a little brother as a fail-safe.
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imgonnagetyouback
no header we die like men
So, a fun fact about me: I have a physical, burnt CD that I keep songs that play on the idea of "get them back." It is maybe my favorite, favorite double entendre to make.
First of all, I love the stylization of the title? Someone said something about it being a reference to a 1975 song? I actually don't care, I think the all lower case, no spaces presentation of imgonnagetyouback so perfectly encapsulates how she sings it. There's a distinct speed to it, a mischievous side smile to it as well.
Also, god, the vibe of the song is just a little sexy, just a little messy, it's everything I love. The narrator, seeking an ex-flame who ghosted her ( I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into a ditch / then ran and hid ) debates his fate.
There's something very... gloat-ish, in it. I can imagine the narrator, two shots deep, grabbing her lover by the jaw, to say, "I could leave you, like a dumb house party, or I might just love you 'till the end."
(Get Him Back - Fiona Apple)
This song tells, I think, a very tight story. The narrator describes a lover who "Knew the price goin' in." who she sees across the bar, after their split. Over the course of her night, she has decided. Even if I'm handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you.
My favorite part, and the most revealing, is the bridge. It's always the bridge! ( I think Swift's songwriting prioritizes the bridge as a moment of revelation, a moment where the "why?" of the song is answered. ) The narrator, in no uncertain terms, sees her lover still wanting her, and sees him as the turn around, the new future. Bygones will be bygone eras, fading into grey.
The narrator thinks that, by getting back with this lover (or by getting back at them) she can "push the reset button, we're becoming something new."
(I'm Gonna Get You Back - Florie)
The bridge's final line also reveals a little bit about how the Narrator sees herself.
Pick your poison babe, I'm poison either way.
The narrator tells her ghosted ex that both options will end badly for him. On one hand, she teases revenge throughout the whole song. Smash your bike / flip you off / curse you out. Or, as a much younger Swift might put it: I wrote a song about you.
On the other hand... There's a tell, there. That she thinks loving her ( pull you into the closet / take you back to my house / be your wife ) is just as poisonous. In a way, maybe the narrator is right. The song's placement directly before The Albatross could be the answer. The narrator sees that trouble will come if he gets back with her, too.
(get him back! - Olivia Rodrigo)
Back on the idea of gloating, though. The song has a bit of Mastermind to it too:
You'll find that you were never not mine.
The narrator feels so totally in control that she will get to decide the fate of this romance. I could take the upper hand. I can tell when someone still wants me. Once you fix your face, I'm goin' in. For a song with such a tight, perfect beat, it works so, so well. I love when the instrumental supports the lyrics.
#ttpdminutes#imgonnagetyouback#taylor swift#the cassandra speaks#web weaving#this was weird for me but this is quite litcherally my favorite play on words so i had had had to
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I just want to talk about Pen and Colin in the new season. I get it not everyone will understand either side. Like as why everyone is so excited for Pen and Colin, or why Pen is lady whistle down, or why Colin is yes hot but still cringe this new season, why their love story felt so fast.
>Pen is lady whistle down for a true reason, a very good reason in fact. If you watch the whole show, you see that everyone, she is around never listens to her. Never will ask her anything. Will never ask how she is feeling or listen to what she has to say. Just think about lady whistle down. EVERYONE listens to her. They want the gossip. They want what's new. People get excited to just get her paper when she writes. They will ready every word on that paper and yet look for more. This makes Pen feel amazing because even if no one knows who lady whistle down is, they still read that paper. They still talk about everything that was written. SHES BEING HEARD and that's all she ever wanted. Her mother, sisters, best friend, and even Colin never truly listen to her, but they do as her secret identity. She may not be in the right by spreading gossip but in her mind, it is the right, and it feels good. but you can even see after she writes about someone, she loves she feels the deepest regrets and wishes she never did. she would rather be unheard and in the dark then get angry at someone once and write awful things about them.
>Everyone might not be excited for Pen and Colin and it truly shows where you stand in this world, and how you were as a teen in love. The people that are truly excited about it are the same ones who had many different crushes on people growing up, but never being the crush. I relate to Pen so much. Wanting to be with a guy and having such strong feeling for him but holding it all back because of insecurities. Being a bigger girl, you do not tell a guy you have a crush on them unless they say so first. And even then, you don't because it could just be a joke. She truly loves Colin deeply but holds back her feeling because of who she is (Or who she is told who she is) her mother ofc thinks she will never be married and never find a husband because of her looks and the fact that she is in her books all the time. She wants to be treated like the girls in her books. To be loved not to matter of looks but based on just a true love connection.
>Colin may have had a glow up this season and be hot, but a lot of people are hating his acts because well it's not him. He's meant to be a gentle lover. A sweet man. He's meant to be the sweetest of the brothers. Yet here is trying to be like them because that's how every man he's around like. He goes out and has sex with random women and even then, he stares at the wall because all he can think about is Pen. ONE KISS RUINED THIS MAN. He knows now that is what true love feels like. He dreams of her and yearns for her all the time. He shamelessly stares at her at all these balls. He wants her now that he has felt that spark. He doesn't care what anyone else is thinking all he cares about is that he can look at her and see her true beauty. I also think he always had feelings for her but since they were both friends (Best friends at that) It might have felt shameful to like her in that way.
>Their love story was not fast. It was a slow burn. We were all lost in the other Bridgerton's love stories to really focus on them. They have been friends for years. They both have subtly flirted with each other even if the other didn't see it or think too much about it. Colin NEEDED that kiss from her to truly feel that connection. He saw her that night as a true love rather than someone who he has been friends with for years. He saw her in such a different light. Same with Pen she saw Colin in a different light. He got on his knees for her for god's sake. If you would have told season one Pen that her and her crush would be making out in a carriage and he would be on his knees for her, she would think you were losing your mind because "He is only just a friend" they deserve this passion because even if we see Pen wanting it more in other seasons rather than Colin he still wanted it deep down but didn't know he could even feel that way to her. Also, him being jealous for her finally being on her way to marriage is so real. He should have been. I think she would have ended up cutting I off herself if she saw Colin wasn't jealous. AND THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY
#bridgerton#luke newton#bridgerton spoilers#bridgerton season 3#bridgerton s3#bridgerton netflix#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#lady whistledown#polin bridgerton#polinedit#colin x penelope#penelope x colin#lord debling
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