Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Patrice Ellis)
Word Count: 3.4K
Warnings: None
"A little to the left, Phee. A little more. Okay, back to the right. Perfect!"
Napheese breathed a sigh of relief as she released her hold on a Terry-sized cutout of his favorite super arachnid something-or-another around Diedra's living room. Patrice couldn't remember if it was Peter, Miles, or one of the others – all she knew was Terry loved the blue and red masked crusader. Whatever Terry loved, she vowed to bring to him in abundance.
As party guests doubled as set-up crew members and buzzed about the Richmond family home, Patrice played project manager, wrangling pockets of confusion until they came together to produce the vision she'd had in her mind since Valentine's Day. In the backyard, Ken managed the tedious task of stringing up a paper-mache Spider-Man while Terry's old teammates carried folding tables to and fro under Zorah and Zanah's watchful eyes.
Marvin and Leon stood at the grill, unloading freshly cooked meats and roasted veggies into aluminum pans, dancing along to Corey and June's partnered DJ set as they tested their speakers.
Napheesa's husband, Aaron, and Victoria's fiancee, Jonathan, manned a makeshift bar area, trying to find the right liquor-to-mixer algorithm for cocktail recipes Patrice had found online. From her spot at the kitchen table, Patrice could see them grimace and toss yet another drink over their shoulders to start fresh.
Indoors, Patrice and her trusted set of ladies turned Terry's childhood living room into a blue and red wonderland, complete with decor rivaling any party planner's best day on the job. Comic books with a cartoon version of his adult form sat next to masks, noisemakers, and shot glasses to mix the childlike with a little adult fun. Streamers hung from the ceiling. Confetti decorated themed table cloths. Games sat waiting for the perfect time to pop them open and unleash all of the arguing that came with friendly competition.
Huffing, puffing, and aching, Patrice had done her job. She'd deal with the soreness creeping up her legs and resting at the base of her spine once clean-up was wrapped, and Terry was grinning from ear to ear.
Diedra looked up from stuffing colored cellophane treat bags meant to appeal to the inner child of 30-somethings. She smiled at her daughter-in-law and the swell of her growing belly showing beneath her sweatshirt. "You've done a good job, Patrice. Take your rest, sister girl."
Rest was a foreign concept to an expectant mother hellbent on scaling a four-year-old's birthday party to something fit for a grown man. He couldn't quite put his finger on what had Patrice protecting her phone screen when he was around and hadn't gathered any details outside of the Publix order she tasked him to deliver for the month's supposed Sister Circle meeting. She'd sent him over 30 minutes away for a fruit platter and wings she swore up and down the closest supermarket could fulfill. He was off the trail for now. Just long enough to usher his closest family and friends into his parent's living room to sit in excited silence, anticipating the opportunity to wish him well in his next year of life.
"Your brother's at the store, wondering which beer Terry likes most," Rosalyn relayed with the phone unnecessarily close to her face as she marched into the room from the backyard. "And those boys are tearing up all that liquor out there. I don't know if y'all are gonna have any left."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Ros. They always tearing something up. Can't take 'em nowhere," Victoria mumbled as she finished tying ribbons on her stash of treat bags, earning a hum in agreeance from Napheesa.
Patrice nonchalantly waved them off as she used one hand to stuff a piece of chocolate into her mouth and the other to rub her stomach. "Tell Junior it's alright. He won't drink anyway. He says he's sober until further notice. Just make sure he brings enough ice."
"Terry won't have a beer on his birthday? He's been doing that since he was 18. You really are a magician, Little Richmond." Dee's compliment came in a sweet voice that sharply contrasted her expert precision in plucking Patrice's third bite-sized Snickers from between her fingers before tossing it in a nearby wastebasket. She ignored the small whimper and continued. "You know you're the only one that can surprise him, right? We've been trying since he was a boy, and he always sniffs out the plan. With you, he follows directions blindly. I wouldn't have ever been able to get him 'cross town for this long."
"Did you ever try threatening him? That's usually what I do," Patrice added.
Napheesa chuckled. "Girl, he listens because you also got something his mama ain't got."
"Ain't that the truth. The vagina does amazing things, ladies. There's power between those thighs. Come to the real Sister Circle meeting next week, and we'll talk all about it!" Diedra agreed.
"I know that's right, Auntie," Victoria exclaimed.
Patrice sat with a satisfied grin on her face, wanting to take exception to her mother's not-so-subtle assertion but knowing that the truth was simply the truth. She chose a joke as her rebuttal: "Y'all don't know what we're doing when we're alone."
"Baby, we know. We can see you. Ain't no shame."
All in the room laughed at Rosalyn's joke, compelling Patrice to join in, even at her expense. She ran her hand across her belly, dreaming of what her baby might think of all this fanfare unfolding mere inches from their safe space.
She sighed and looked around, tears pricking her eyes. "Everything looks so good y'all. Thank you for helping me. Even if you did take all my snacks. I owe y'all first dibs on newborn photos."
"As if I won't be in that house helping you the second you get home," Vick scoffed. She reached over to grab Patrice's hand for a quick squeeze. "We got you girl. Anything for you and that man of yours."
"One day, you're gonna have to get over the breakup, Victoria," Napheesa laughed.
Vick rolled her eyes. "Patrice forgives. The Lord is still working on me. Sometimes, I have flashbacks and just wanna…" Her voice trailed as she made a strangling motion and shook her hands. When she stopped, she looked over at Diedra, laughing at her animated movements. "No offense, Mrs. DeeDee."
"Sometimes little traces of his daddy jump out, child. Blame it on that fiery, light-eyed Richmond blood. Lord knows I love it and hate it all the same damn time."
Wisdom and frustrations shared between generations of women connected through one man filled the room, pushing Patrice into a fit of giggles as she listened along and tried to quell the unfamiliar fluttering in her abdomen. Buzzing in the front pocket of her working overalls paused her participation in the conversation. It brought her attention to Terry's teenage face filling the screen.
She lifted her hand to get the group's attention. "Sshh sshh, y'all. This is Terry. Let me put him on speaker." Talking ceased, and breathing stilled as they rushed to sit perfectly quiet and eavesdrop. Patrice put on her sweetest voice to answer. "Hey, Birthday Man. Everything okay?"
On the interstate, Terry slowly switched lanes, growing frustrated by the unfathomable traffic on Saturday afternoon. He grimaced at the nickname. "Baby, I'm in my 30s. Birthday Man makes it sound like I never moved out of my mama's basement."
"Excuse me for wanting to celebrate you. Guess I'll cancel the reservation too, then," Patrice sassed, earning stifled laughter around her.
"I'm sorry, Piggy. Call me whatever you want. Don't cancel our time together. I'm excited." The genuine smile in his voice brought heat to Patrice's cheeks and a quiet swooning to the group.
She smiled, though he couldn't see her. "I'm excited, too," she gushed. "You on the way back to me for a little while?"
"Yeah, I should be there in fifteen minutes. You stayin' off your feet over there? I won't hear about you on no ladders, will I?" Terry knew the answer. He always knew the answer to whether his busy body of a wife had finally committed to following her doctor's orders.
"Duh, TJ. I know how to sit down," Patrice answered.
Terry chuckled. "You know how to lie, too. At least sit down until I get back. Corey says he's running late anyway."
"Alright. I love you. We love you." Patrice's voice carried an innocent lilt mushy enough to make Zorah quietly roll her eyes in the background. She padded into the room.
"I love y'all, too. See you in a bit, baby."
Air kisses shared from a distance, growing shorter by the second, capped off a nauseatingly sweet conversation so covered in newlywed confections that it was nearly responsible for new cavities in everyone's mouths.
Patrice gave Terry's photo a final smile before looking up at the face carrying varying mixes of disbelief and shock. She rolled her eyes. "God forbid a girl is nice to her husband. Stop looking at me, and let's get this show on the road. My baby will be here soon!"
Prison warden sensibilities helped corral a group of adults into Marvin and Dierdra's living room with enough time to spare for Patrice to toddle down the front porch steps like a damsel in distress and look for her "missing" cell phone charger.
T.I.'s 'U Don't Know Me' rattled car windows lining the street as he barrelled down the quiet residential street. Terry's arm hung comfortably out of the window, allowing the rays of a blazing sun sitting high in the sky to ping off of his wedding ring once he raised his hand to wave at his first love. Patrice put on an unassuming smile and closed her back passenger side door to wait for him to follow his usual routine.
The truck's engine shut off with an easy twist of Terry's wrist once he found a spot in front of the house, taking Urban Legend's bass-heavy third track with it. Bags rustled, and soft grunts of effort left newly moisturized lips. A heavy door slammed as a mountain of a man stepped out of his chariot and took long strides toward a woman dancing from foot to foot to welcome him in.
"What you doin' out here," Terry asked as he approached. He gently placed the lightest bag in Patrice's outstretched hand before leaning down to peck her puckered lips. "Who let you come out here by yourself?"
She shrugged, unwilling to place blame on anyone in particular. "The meeting hadn't started yet, and I thought I had left my charger in the car, so I came to grab it. But I guess it's in my bag? I don't know. This momnesia stuff is real."
"Mhmm. How's your back?" A large hand came up to place light pressure in the spot she'd recently complained about, hoping to ease the pain.
"It's better." For his sake, a lie slid off Patrice's tongue with minimal effort. "Dee's grabbing me a heating pad, and I get the good chair. Wish she'd let me have another chocolate instead, but whatever. Perks of getting disgusting in that hotel room, I guess."
"I really hope you don't say that in front of these old ladies. Is that who all these cars belong to? You think they gon' eat all this food?" Terry questioned, taking stock of the unfamiliar vehicles.
Patrice sighed in exasperation. "Oh hell, Terry, are you helping me or interrogating me? Come on and get this stuff in the house so I can talk about you behind your back in peace."
Terry's chuckle and the audible pop of palm on her denim-covered backside rang out behind Patrice as he followed her into the house. Blissful ignorance carried him in the house. He blissfully smelt her perfume wafting in the wind, blissfully watched her spreading hips switch in front of him, blissfully listened to the sweet alto of her voice call out his presence as they rounded the corner—blissfully unaware.
"Surprise!"
Bliss abruptly took a back seat to the reflex to shield Patrice from danger. The hair on Terry's arms stood attention, looking for the threat, and wild eyes surveyed the room. His father's smile disarmed him first. Then his mother, Corey, with his phone up to capture the moment, his sisters giving him identical middle fingers, and the hulking Spider-Man cutout masquerading like a member of his extended family, calmed him further. Confusion came for him next – a fleeting emotion but one that rocked him with so much force that he considered walking out of the house altogether. If not for Patrice grasping his arm to keep him in place, Terry would've hightailed it back to his truck and disappeared into the wind.
But, as his fight or flight response dissipated and realization knocked the wind from his lungs, tears pricked the corner of his eyes.
Spider-Man. The birthday party he never received. The superhero he spent hours dreaming of becoming in his boyhood. The character that kept him excited for something in his darkest times. His favorite interest to share with his father and the one he hoped to pass on to his child one day soon. A sea of red and blue engulfed him, sparking up more gratitude than his body knew how to filter into productive words or sounds.
"Say hello to your people, baby. They came to see you!"
Patrice's voice pulled Terry back into reality and broke him down, all in the same breath. He slowly set the fruit tray on the floor before pulling her into a hug packed with a heady amalgamation of wish fulfillment and unspeakable gratitude. A chorus of 'awws' rolled across the room in a murmur from people not used to a vulnerable Terry willing to cry in front of a crowd.
Patrice ran her nails across his shoulder blades as she rocked them side to side. "Happy Birthday, Pookie Bear! We're all so proud of you and the man you are."
"Thank you," Terry whispered against Patrice's neck. "I love you so much."
"I know. I love you 3000." A short laugh sent warm hair fanning across Patrice's skin before Terry pulled back to look at her face with amused confusion. She smiled. "See, I pay attention sometimes!"
Whispered declarations of love and short kisses kept at bay with the strength of Christ himself produced more big feelings and bigger tears until the soft clearing of a throat nearby reminded Terry that not only was he at a birthday party, he was at his birthday party.
"Shit," he whispered to himself before quickly swiping moisture from his cheeks. Terry scanned the room for faces once more, taking in the full scope of all his wife had achieved. "My baby sisters are here. They never come home," he laughed through more tears. "Ken is here! Mike, Tim…what is goin' on here? Oh my God!"
Corey hollered back behind his phone. "We here to party, man! We had to cut the guest list. Everybody and they mama was trynna get in here for you, boy!"
"And the catfish. Mostly you, but definitely the catfish," Zanah added to scattered laughter.
Terry's smile stretched from ear to ear as he reached out to snag two plastic Spider-Man masks from a nearby table. With careful precision, he slid one onto Patrice's face, adjusted it, and then did the same for himself. Childish whimsy compelled him to try shooting imaginary webs from his wrists.
Patrice gave him a quizzical look. "Does that mean we're good to go, Spidey?"
They were more than good. Like fresh champagne uncorked and sprayed to celebrate a championship win, Terry's imaginary webslinging cracked the seal on the afternoon. Adults ran around, stuffing their faces and dancing like children dropped off at a classmate's birthday party. Terry got the first crack at his pinata and hit it so hard dead center that Peter Parker nearly disintegrated into a heap of cheap paper and cardboard. Relay races stretched muscles, many of which hadn't been used in ions. Pictionary on the back deck quickly turned into a game of watching Ken flex how many things he could turn into awful stick figures. They presented the man of the evening with sentimental and gag gifts in equal measure and showered him in praise.
"Okay, babe," Patrice exclaimed as she presented Terry with a slender box wrapped in red paper. "While you open that, I have to give a speech because you always have one for me. Terrence is nothing short of amazing. I've never met anyone so dedicated to serving his family and his community. You're a mentor, a dutiful son, an amazing big brother, and the only husband I want. I'm so happy to get a front-row seat to your next evolution as Daddy. I love you, Pookie Bear. Hopefully, this shows how much I look at you as a superhero. Our Friendly Neighborhood Terry, if you will!"
A little online digging and a sketchy, at best, Etsy shop brought Terry's wildest dreams to life. He held a detailed figurine of his face and body contorted into a signature hero's pose. Thanks came in deep kisses, and a grown man showcased his new toy to all his friends as if he was transported directly back to age six.
By sunset, more libations and a deck of cards procured from thin air, turning innocent fun into a heated competition between teammates seeing each other for the first time in years and couples looking to put a hurting on each other's pockets.
Terry existed in a permanent state of laughter. His shoulders shook with each chuckle, his abs flexed and relaxed underneath his shirt from every joke and story taking him on a trip down memory lane, and his cheeks burned from smiling with the full force of his facial muscles.
As much as Patrice wanted to remain with the group and listen to a spirited retelling of Terry's infamous in-game trash talk and a nasty reaction to his taunting, she needed to listen to her little one's demand for an empty bladder.
Terry watched her disappear into the house and half-listened to Tim's story, which was littered with exaggerations, for a few minutes before pushing back from the table and excusing himself. He slipped into the quiet, empty house and flipped on the kitchen lights in search of his mother's good cake knives. Methodical cuts produced a small sliver of contraband for someone special.
Loud whooshing from the hallway powder room and the sink shutting on and off produced goosebumps pebbling across Terry's skin. Anticipation coursed through his veins. His smile grew as she came around the corner, rubbing her fluttering stomach.
"Oh, hey," she greeted, exhaustion evident in her tired smile. Once they were within arms' length of each other, she reached out to caress his cheek with her thumb. He leaned into her touch, kissing her palm. "Having fun, baby?"
He nodded. "Mhmm. I got something for you?"
"Baby, this is your day. You don't need to get me anything," Patrice whined.
"Shhhh," Terry answered, shaking his head. "Just let it happen. Close your eyes."
She did so reluctantly, expecting a silly kiss or something inappropriate until the soft embrace of fluffy buttercream and soft vanilla cake pushed past her lips into her mouth. Patrice hummed and chewed, savoring every morsel before opening her eyes. "God, I love you."
"Not nearly as much as I love you," he answered while feeding her another, bigger bite she readily accepted. "I owe you the moon next month, okay? Name it, and you got it."
"A BMW. All white. Peanut butter insides."
Terry scoffed and wiped the corner of Patrice's mouth free of debris. "Easy. I'm literally Spider-Man. Give me a challenge, Treecey."
"Ooooh, I see you. Shut my mouth," she exclaimed, her laughter inviting Terry to join in. "Let's see, superhero. How about…"
Mention of fantastical things like trips to the moon and a purse made from rare stars fell from Patrice's lips in jest as Terry carefully balanced feeding and active listening. What she considered a silly little game was anything but for a man wholly invested in her happiness. If he had to fight crime by night to bring Patrice the desires of her heart, he'd do it with a smile under his mask.
Superhero. He'd waited a long time to finally earn the moniker and party to boot. And he'd wait for 100 more, fight a never-ending list of villains, and jump across the multiverse just to love like this again.
terry richmond x black!reader
summary ; in which terry, despite never being one for birthdays, realizes maybe a push was all he needed?
word count ; 4.9k
warnings ; none - mostly fluff, some vulgar language used, a SMIDGE (barely...) suggestive towards the end...enjoy!
｢ author's note: just want to thank the wonderful and ever amazing @megamindsecretlair for coming up with the fun #TerrysBirthdayBash tag + event and allowing us all to celebrate our favorite man's birthday together ! happpyy birthday pooks ♡ ｣
He doesn’t even know how he got here or how in the hell he let these niggas talk him into this, and yet…
It’s barely midnight, and he feels he’s seen enough. He needs air or something. Everything feels so stuffy and too hot, plus the smell of weed is giving him a headache, and he just needs a breather.
He heads upstairs to an empty room and finds a balcony. Taking a seat outside and enjoying the crisp night air. He takes a sip of the same cup of beer he’s been practically holding hostage since he came to the party and almost gags. It’s warm and tastes like piss. He scrunches his face, forces the sip down, and sets his cup to the side as he slinks down in the chair.
He closes his eyes, forcing himself to take a breather, and tries to enjoy the quiet moment, not knowing how long he has before he’s found and forced back down to the party.
You came with some friends, mostly because they needed a designated driver, and you weren’t much of a drinker. Plus, you just so happened to have a car, so you supposed it worked out.
Outside of them, you hadn’t known nor recognized anyone. Though you tell yourself it’s okay to have some fun, as you’ve been putting in a lot of work this semester. And for a while, you do, putting on a smile and surprisingly enjoying yourself, but after about an hour and a half, plus your girls find their little "fun time" friends…heading off lord knows where, so you figure you’ll busy yourself until they’re ready to go.
After walking around for a while, you come across a room that thankfully isn’t occupied (you had a couple of awkward run-ins). Heading in, you close the door quietly behind you, the balcony immediately catching your eye, so you make your way out, stretching your limbs as you yawn.
"Long night, huh?"
The deep voice causes you to jump as you make a noise you don't even recognize. Since you weren't expecting anyone else out here, you turn to find the voice. And you almost immediately recognize him as you catch your breath.
You put your hand on your heart, steadying yourself and calming your breathing while you laugh awkwardly.
"Fuck! You scared me, sorry…I didn’t know anyone else was out here. If I’m bothering, I can go. I didn’t mean to intrude." He readily puts a hand up, shaking his head softly.
"No, no, you’re good…I needed a moment away from the party, too, so I get it."
You smile softly nodding as you find a place near the railing. In moments like this, you hate your need to fill the awkward silence with noise so it feels less awkward…not that it ever works.
"Yeah, it’s pretty stuffy down there….and a lil rank, won’t lie." Your words cause a laugh to come from him, which brings a smile to your own face; maybe today is the day your big mouth will work in your favor.
You turn, leaning your back and arms against the railing, looking at him.
"What?" the genuine confusion and slight concern on his face make you giggle, and you shake your head, calming him to some degree.
"Nothing, nothing, it’s just…" You stop yourself, honestly not sure what you want to say, but force words out nonetheless.
"It’s just nice to hear you speak, I guess? I don’t know if you know, but we share an art class, Professor Tanusia?" It's almost like a lightbulb goes off as he nods and smiles at your words.
Part of Terry is surprised by the conversation, and though he initially came to the balcony to be alone, he happily welcomes the new distraction. Normally, he would find any number of reasons as to why he needs to be excused from a situation like this, but for some reason, he finds himself wanting to stay.
He apologizes for not being a big talker and also explains how he didn’t even want to come tonight but was essentially forced to by some friends.
"Oh trust me, I know the feeling all too well…I’m pretty much playing sober companion tonight so yeaaah. Also, I think I've met a few of your friends. Seems like they’ve taken quite a liking to my girls."
You both laugh at the insinuation and take that as a way to slowly get to know one another. Your small conversation isn't much to write home about, but even through the small awkward silences and rushed stumbling over each other, it still manages to be nice and surprisingly comfortable despite the current situation.
Through one of those lovely bouts of awkward silence, his phone ringing forces him to look away from the side of your face as he apologizes and takes his call.
"Heeyy Nana…yeah, of course, for you? Always…" You turn, facing the railing, attempting to give him a little privacy at the very least, though you can’t help but smile at his words. Because, of course, he’s as handsome as he is, as sweet as he is, AND he loves his nana….sigh, it might just be a setup you fear.
You try not to be TOO nosy, but you catch a few words between their conversation. The biggest thing you catch is her singing the beginnings of Happy Birthday to him. When she finishes, he chuckles timidly, a sound you’re coming to quite enjoy, and he thanks her warmly.
As he finishes his call, he apologizes again, and you shake your head, telling him not to worry.
"Nah, you’re all good…and, uh, happy birthday, by the way…." you say with a small laugh; however, his embarrassed sigh and tense shoulders are enough to make you feel bad about even the possibility of making him feel uncomfortable.
"Sorry! I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear. Also, I won’t tell anyone….I mean...unless they already know, hence why they forced you to come tonight?" He shakes his head and smiles at you sadly.
"No, you’re good, I promise. Thank you, by the way. But uh, yeah, nah, they don’t know; I’m not too big on birthdays, just another day for me…I guess." He shrugs as he looks back out into the view in front of you both, and though you nod understandingly, it still manages to make your heart feel heavy at his declaration.
You’ve been through your fair share of shit, but no one should be alone on their birthday. And with that thought roaming around in your very overactive brain, you make a choice; you nod to yourself as you turn to face him, grinning.
"Terry…" you call out to him cautiously, trying to seem very casual about your evil (completely well and good-intentioned) little plan.
His face grows warm hearing you say his name, and he doesn’t know what comes over him when he opens his mouth to speak.
"Terrance…you can call me Terrance." You smile shyly and nod.
"Okay, Terrance…" The way it sounds and feels coming out of your mouth makes the smile grow wider on your face. You’re almost embarrassed, and you try and force the feeling down as you finish speaking to him.
"…I am going to do something for you, and it will 1000% change your life, and all you gotta do is say yes to my next question…
So…do you trust me?" You ask him with an unreadable expression. He watches you closely with furrowed eyebrows and quirks one as he answers.
"Uh, y…es?" Causing you to laugh as you nod.
"Good. Follow me." As you make your way downstairs, you hear his heavy footsteps following close behind. Grabbing your jacket from near the front door, you head outside, get into your car, and once Terry is in, you both head off.
"So, uh…something tells me you’re not gonna tell me where we’re going, hm?"
You laugh, throwing your head back slightly, and signal your turn light. Terry watches you closely, something about the way it sounds, how it comes out of your mouth, so genuine, so natural, almost laughing from your full belly makes him smile, wanting to hear more.
"You catch on quick…I like you, I think I’ll keep you around." You turn another corner, sparing him a quick glance, as you keep your eyes on the road, smiling softly.
After about a few more minutes of driving, you pull up to a pharmacy. Once you park, you hop out of the car.
Terry eyes you suspiciously and is confused, but he follows behind you.
"Before you speak…Yes, I know, it’s weird. But it’s also past 2am, and we don’t have a lot of options, so the next best thing it is; now, follow me, young man!" You do a silly march to the sliding doors, walk inside, and head straight towards the snack section.
From behind you, he shakes his head lightly at your silliness and makes a small saluting gesture.
"Sir, yes, sir…." He mumbles as he jogs slightly to catch up with you.
Once he does, you’re standing with a hand on your hip, tapping a foot on the floor, biting the inside of your cheek, and he just stares at you, awaiting your next move.
You stare between him and the generic cupcakes with a furrowed brow as if studying them for a few moments and put a hand out toward them.
"Pick."
He looks at you, beyond confused, and scratches against his forehead as he speaks.
"What?"
You gesture towards the 5 different options in front of you both and tell him once again.
"Pick one…."
It takes him a minute or so, but once he puts two and two together he sighs, laughing quietly to himself. He shakes his head as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.
"You know you don’t have to do this, right? When I was telling you earlier, it wasn’t for some sort of pi—"
You hold a hand up, cutting him off as you turn to face him, staring him directly in the eyes.
"Terry- Terrance….it is your 21st birthday. You were already at a shitty house party you were forced to go to, and it is now…
You check your watch.
It's 2:37am, and though extremely sweet, the only person who’s called you is your nana. Not only that, but you said your birthday is "just another day" for you….And because of that, respectfully, I refuse for her call to be the highlight of your day and perhaps even the only thing you looked forward to."
You step closer to him, closing a barely noticeable gap, and bring a hand to his shoulder, grasping at him softly.
"So I need you to turn this off and pick a damn cupcake…please." You say through a laugh, poking at his forehead lightly and stepping back to give him space to make his choice.
He just stares at you for what feels like forever. Initially, you know he needs a moment to recover from you being all in his space like that, especially since you barely know one another, which is starting to make you nervous and feel like you possibly overstepped.
That is, until a corner of his mouth slowly falls upward, into that sweet, calm grin. It's almost like he's trying to suppress a larger smile, and it makes you smile yourself.
Terry thinks about how close you were only a few moments ago. To anyone looking from the outside, the exchange barely lasted more than a minute, but god, it felt like at least 20+ to him. It’s been a long time since he felt so nervous like this around a person, but you weirdly make him feel both on edge and oh-so comfortable at the same time.
He never does much for himself; everything he does is usually for other people. It's not that he minds it, but he honestly cannot remember the last time someone forced him to take time and make a choice just for him. It almost feels like too much responsibility, which is not a phrase in Terry’s vocabulary.
He shakes his head, pushing out a laugh as he recalls your words. "…turn this off, and pick a damn cupcake…" And pick a damn cupcake he did.
"Double chocolate…"
You smile, nodding as you pick it up and hand it to him.
"Great choice." You say as you take some cash out your back pocket, handing it over to him.
"Okay now go pay for that, and I’ll get some candles and stuff and meet you at the car."
He stands back, giving you a small salute, and heads towards the register. You can’t help but laugh to yourself as you go get the remainder of the items, pay, and meet him back at the car.
The way he idly lazes against your car, like it's the most natural thing in the world, makes you laugh. How a person can seem like they just fit in a place they've never been before is beyond you...but you are starting to gather the key to "understanding" Terry is to simply just leave things be, things'll make sense, when they make sense.
"We ready?" His words pull you from your ever-running mind as you unlock the doors for you both.
You hold up the bag of goodies and nod as you look him in the eyes and just barely brush past him to get in the car.
"Mhmm, let us go." he clicks his tongue against his teeth, smiling as he climbs into the car.
You start it up and begin driving, turning on the radio and letting it play low.
The ambiance in the car between you both is almost palpable. He holds the small 4-piece case of cupcakes in his hand on his lap as he squeezes his other hand between the seat and his thigh. His hands are sweaty, and he is embarrassingly overthinking every moment he shares with you.
Though he won’t readily admit it, he already knew who you were on the balcony, he’s seen you around campus, and he most definitely remembered you from your shared 10am art class. He’s never been much of a morning person, but seeing you with a smile every time you strolled in at 9:55 am on the dot, taking your seat, catching up with a few friends from the class, and always bringing along some kind of snack.
It made him wonder what your favorite was if you were more of a sweet or a savory kind of person like him? He hadn’t really ever spoken to you before, but he’s always wanted to.
Shy isn’t necessarily the word someone would use to describe Terry; reserved is more accurate. But you make those things seem so unimportant. You make him want to get closer to you and learn more. So long as it means basking in whatever light you shine, then so be it.
He’s brought back to earth when he feels your hand on his leg. Thus causing a shiver to run along his spine as he looks at your hand, following up your arm and landing at those big and beautiful brown eyes.
"Hey, we’re here…" you say to him softly.
He’s almost too embarrassed to speak, barely mumbling out an apology as he nods. Trying his best not to think about the embarrassing spaced-out look he probably had on his face. Shaking your head, you squeeze his thigh once before letting go.
"All good, come on." You climb out of the car, feeling the cool air against your face. The Overlook has always been one of your favorite places. You give yourself a moment after heading to your trunk as you open it and set a few things up for you both. You look out at the skyline, hoping that Terry will enjoy the view as much as you do. Climbing in the newly set up trunk, you realize Terry still hasn't gotten out of the car yet.
"You coming?" Your words pull him out of his head as he nods and gets out of the car, climbing his long-limbed self into the trunk with you.
"I know it’s not the biggest thing in the world, but it’s either this or sit directly on the ground…look, it was pretty short notice." He laughs, getting comfortable enough, and shakes his head.
"Nah, this is good. Okay, so don’t leave me in suspense. What are we doing out here?" he asks as he takes in the view himself. You watch him closely. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking it all in, breathing in the earthy scent and almost relaxing wholly with you.
You smile brightly, putting a hand out so he can hand over the cupcake pack. He does and watches you as you put things together.
"Ahh, and there comes the fun part." You say, setting it on your lap, taking out the bag from the pharmacy, and setting up the small candle pack. As you try your best to spread the 10 little sticks evenly across the 4 cupcakes, he looks at you softly, taking in your composed nature and the determination in your eyes to ensure everything is perfect. This causes him to smile and chuckle to himself quietly. Someone he barely knows is sitting here trying to make something perfect….for him? What an unusual night. What an even more unusual and unexpected birthday.
“And don- wait…” You light the candles quickly and then smile to yourself, proud of your simple but hard work.
“Okay…now I'm done!” You smile up at him as you hold the case of cupcakes up carefully so as not to put out the candles.
He smiles back at you, shaking his head, probably at your excitement, but his smile is so sweet and soft that you can let it go at once. He leans down to blow out the candles—
“Terrance! Make a wish first nigga…” he looks at you like you have two heads before he rolls his eyes with laugh.
“Are you serious? There’s only 10 candles, and I’m turning 21…you want me to actually make a wish on this?”
Looking at him with a slight glare, you explain- "Well there were only 3's, 5's, 7's, 8's and one pack of 10 left…so either you were gonna be 73, 58 or 10…had to make a judgment call." you say with a shrug.
He laughs, nodding as he understands the cosmic predicament you found yourself in.
"So I'm 10 years old today huh?" he asks with an amused smile, making you nod along to his question.
"Yes, you are turning 10 today, Terrance. Now close your eyes and make a wish…I'll even close my eyes and turn my head away if it makes you feel any better." Though you are joking, Terry is sure that if he asked, you would actually do it. He huffs out a laugh and settles down slightly as he closes his eyes for a few moments and makes his wish.
You use this time to take in his face simply; the only light between you is the candles and just a bit coming from the skyline at the Overlook. You have to physically force your hands to stay put. He almost seems like a painting. You can see his dark circles, probably from a long semester, perhaps from something more. You wish you could help; just lessen the load on his shoulders even if for a little while. You see a small scar on the edge of his left eyebrow, you wonder from what, hoping one day you can hear the story.
He blows out the candles after another minute or so, and when he opens his eyes, you're both just staring at each other. The moment is nerve-wracking but also the most comfortable you have felt in a long time. It's almost a battle of wills to see who will break first, and you feel your stomach turning and your neck growing warm, so you take the initiative, clearing your throat and looking away, setting the case down between you both and taking the blown out candles off and setting them aside. You feel his eyes on you as you clean up a little and take a cupcake out of case, which he does as well.
You both bite into your cupcakes, and after a few moments of chewing, you look at him with a sad chewing smile.
"That is…stal—"
"Yeah…that's stale…"
Nodding along with him, you force the bite down. You look at one another in silence again before you both break out in laughter.
"Well, here's to your 10th birthday, huh?"
His laughs only continue, and it makes you feel proud. Hopefully, it's better than the day he would have had otherwise.
"Best 10th birthday a guy would ask for…" he says as he looks at you softly. You smile, nodding, feeling warm inside and then you remember that you have something else for him.
"Oh! That's not all…we still have one more surprise in store…" he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you look at him with a knowing look. He shakes his head, closing his eyes, causing you to laugh, and you pull the small gift from behind your back, placing it in his lap.
He feels around it and opens his eyes. He immediately looks up at you with a large grin, you can't help but laugh slightly, knowing you may have just hit the mark.
He takes the generic stick on bow off it and looks through the soft leather-bound sketchbook.
"I know, I know…I'm amazing, you don't have to say it… and you are very welcome." Your sarcastic but playful tone causes him to hum in agreement, rolling his eyes.
"…You got this from the pharmacy didn't you? That's why you sent me away to get the cupcakes..." his words cause you to stop dead in your tracks, looking at him with an unreadable expression, blinking slowly.
"The magic…your 10th birthday….yeah, you're ruining it…" Your words cause him to laugh hard, throwing his head back. Once he catches his breath, he looks at you with an apologetic smile as he nods. You aren't even a little serious, but something about watching him be so happy, even in just this moment, makes you think, how in the hell could anyone ever be angry with him? Ever be anything less than nice to him? Do anything less than constantly consider him?
"Okay, okay…I'm sorry— All jokes aside though, thank you forreal, this is dope…thank you." he looks at you so genuinely, and you can feel the honesty and gratefulness pouring off of him, and it's taking a whole lot in you to not just reach forward and feel his warmth against you. You simply nod and try your best to keep your racing heartbeat at bay.
You look at your watch and see it's a little past 3am, and you start cleaning up.
"We should probably start heading back. I promised to get the girls back to campus at a decent hour." He nods understanding, and you both hop back in the front seats and take the drive back to the house.
The ride is quiet but so warm, a thrilling contrast to the crisp air of the late night/early morning. You both steal and sneak glances at one another throughout the ride, but it's all unspoken, and you wouldn't want it any other way.
You catch a long red light when you are down the street from the house, and you look over to a closed-eyed Terry. He seems so much more calm and at ease than he was earlier when you interrupted his time on the balcony. He holds a faint smile on his face, and you can't help but smile yourself as the light turns green and you face the road again, knowing that no matter what happens, this is definitely an experience you will take with you for the rest of your life. You just hope he feels the same.
As you finish checking on the second little munchkin, you leave her door cracked and head back into the kitchen, catching your husband finishing up the dishes from dinner.
You smile to yourself and head over to the large sign made by your 3-year-old twins Elijah and Iliyah, which reads; "HAPPY 31st BIRTHDAY DADDY!!!"
He hears the chair scrape behind him as you step on it to pull it down.
"You can leave it up for a little longer…for Jah and Ili—"
You laugh at his attempt to act nonchalantly as you climb down from the chair and move to put away the remainder of dinner. When you finish, you run your hand along his back as you pass him near the sink; hearing his soft hum in reply to your small touch brings a smile to your face as you head over to the couch, preparing your last gifts for the night.
"Be quick, the night isn't complete yet, Mr. Richmond…" he finishes up the last dishes, drying his hands, and meets you at the couch.
Just as he sits, you finish lighting the last candle. "We finally hit that big 2 1 huh?" He says laughing upon seeing the numbered candles on the cupcakes.
He closes his eyes and makes his wish. Once he blows out the candles, he takes the case from you, passing you a cupcake, as he takes his own.
You both bite into it and share a look.
"Dear god…all these years later and its still fucking terrible." You can't help but laugh as you nod, watching him closely. He looks at you, rather looks through you as he takes your cupcake setting it alongside his on the coffee table.
"Mrs. Richmond, I know there's more…that big ol' brain of yours is always working." You push against his leg playfully and grab your gift from behind a throw pillow, handing it to him.
"Now…when you open it, I know you'll fight the urge to have a stroke…but I need you to know I was as safe and precise as possible. Practically used a surgical hand to get it out— I promise." he looks almost scared as he opens the gift. When he sees it, he's stunned and can't stop himself from looking between you and the framed picture of a sketch he made of the Overlook with you at the edge of it.
This sketch being the first thing he ever drew in the gift you gave him ten years ago.
"It's a pretty important moment in our relationship. It only felt right, plus I know you've been wanting to have more of your old sketches in the new office, so ya know, two birds-one stone…" Your words trail off as he sets the framed sketch next to the pharmacy cupcakes, pulling you into him. He holds you close, kissing your temple, and you enjoy his warmth as usual. You both sit in a comfortable silence as you listen to his soft breathing; it almost lulls you straight to sleep after a long day with the kids preparing for tonight, though the clearing of his throat causes you to open your eyes, giving him all your attention.
"Did I ever tell you what I wished for that night?" You shake your head at his soft words, feeling the rumble of his chuckles against your back.
Once you help your friends into your car—with Terry's help, of course—you get settled in yourself, and he jogs around to the driver's side as you roll down your window.
"Terrance…" he just stares at you with a fond look and god you want to kiss him so badly. You keep a hand on the steering wheel and the other lying against the door with your face resting against your fist, attempting to cover your stupidly embarrassing grin.
"Hmm?" You roll your eyes and shake your head while laughing.
"Oh my god…go in the house!" suppressing your giggle, you purse your lips and nod towards his friend's place.
He bites his lip as he tries to keep his own smile down; you actually feel like hitting him now. He's not being fair in the slightest at this point.
"Am I gonna see you tomorrow, huh?" He tries his best to keep the giddy feeling inside, but he stares at you so closely and sees that adorable smile on your face, no matter how much you try to hide it. Fuck, he needs to kiss you.
"Maybe…I don't know. We'll see…" you say looking at him innocently, shrugging your shoulders.
That's the last straw for him. He looks at you with a face you can barely read, and just as you are about to ask if he's okay, he speaks.
"I really want to kiss you…" You feel your heart stop and while you try and catch your breath, you feel yourself nodding.
You watch as he bends down to meet you at the window; feeling his lips against yours is like nothing you've ever felt. All that overdramatic, sappy storybook stuff that people talk about…unfortunately, it is very much real. Though fortunately for you…you are over the moon. It's him causing it.
He brings a hand to your face, his thumb softly grazing against your cheek and ear, almost pulling you impossibly closer to him, which forces a soft whimper from your throat, procuring a groan of his own.
Hearing a car horn snatches you both from the moment, and you immediately put a hand over your mouth. A moment later, you realize the sound was of your own making.
Forgetting that your hand was even on the wheel, in trying to get yourself closer to Terry, you mistakenly slid against it.
You both look at each other and laugh shyly, trying to keep your eyes off one another while also stealing any glances you can.
"I-- Yeah…I am gonna go. I'm gonna go…" you say, keeping your eyes on the road as you start up your car.
He nods softly, chuckling as he taps the top of your car twice, backing up and giving you space to pull off.
You look at him for another few moments and start pulling off.
"Goodnight, Terrance…" You say softly as you drive off. You watch him from your rearview, and he stands there all the way until you can no longer see him.
"So you got your wish?" you ask him as you turn lightly in his hold, just wanting to look at him, laying your chin against his chest.
He looks down at you, nodding, as he kisses against your nose, temple, and lips.
"Seems like it…"
⇒ bottom header made by @thecutestgrotto + @strangergraphics
Going off of the fact that baby girl piker loves to mimic you, she carries around a tiny purse too and she often hands it over to hasan since she'll see you do the same when helping the twins if you're in public and so hasan opens her purse to see why she carry's one, she has similar stuff like in yours (Sunglasses, "lipstick" that's rly chapstick, play money) Or omg she somehow takes hasan's card and when you all go to dinner, hasan freaks about his card and baby girl piker is all chill "I got it" and whips it out of her sparkly purse!! - 🎀
Baby girl Piker has copied your entire routine tbh. Even though she doesn't like coffee because she like 4, when Hasan bring you your coffee in the morning and doesn't bring her one she gets really pouty. So he brings her a small cup of like steamed milk, and that how she starts her day with you. She spends her afternoons in your home office, as you do your paperwork she's sitting next to you doing different pages in her little activity book that she asked you to put in a three binder, so it looks like you paperwork does. She has her little play phone, that she walks around the house with saying phrases that she overhears you say, or just saying your coworkers names exasperatedly.
The bride stood up at the altar, the sunlight spilling through the stained glass windows as her head hung to the floor, her eyes trained on the carpet beneath her. A simple vail covered her hair, draping down the back of her sleek silk wedding dress. Her slender neck adorned with a solitary strand of pearls- the only piece of jewellery she would ever wear.
She lifted her head, her vision is now fixed on her soon-to-be husband, an older man standing across from her. Her sight betraying her thoughts, a mixture of fear and nervousness swimming in their depths, her mind is elsewhere caught in a whirl of uncertainty and doubt.
As her fiancée read his vows she felt a pit of dread forming in her stomach, the thought of spending the rest of her life with this man filled her with a sense of unease.
Her turn to speak came next, but her throat suddenly became dry, her heart pounding in her chest, she turned her head to glance towards her mother who nodded towards her daughter, encouraging her to carry on. The words of the vows caught in her throat, stuck behind a lump of nerves. The officiant waited patiently for a response.
“I-I… cannot” In one swift moment the clattering of the shoes against the floor sounded like a jolt of electricity alarming everyone in the quiet church. Hastily grabbing the hem of her dress, she lifts it up just enough to free her legs. And then she’s running, her dress fluttered behind her like a whisper of silk as she dashed down the aisle the way that she had entered. Her hair blowing behind her, her veil in disarray.
The guests that remained in the church gasped in surprise as the bride sped past them, the sound of her footsteps and the frantic rustling of her dress filled the air. Those on the groom's side start shouting, calling her name, pleading for her to return. Some scrambled to their feet, trying to chase after her, but she was too fast. The wedding had turned into a scene of utter confusion and pandemonium.
The groom and his parents were in a state of shock but they quickly snapped into action. The groom, realising that his bride had just deserted him at the altar, started to run after her, followed closely by his parents and your own. They pushed through the guests, their faces a mix of anger and incomprehension, determined to catch the runaway bride and to bring her back to the ceremony.
The girl ran as fast as her legs could carry her, the material from her dress flowing out behind her in the wind, turning a corner she thought she was safe for the moment, when suddenly her body crashed into another. The force of the impact knocked her off her feet, the man who she had just crashed into began to fall back from the collision, but not before catching her in his arms.
The stranger landed on his back, his arms encircled her in a protective embrace cushioning her fall. It was unexpected and they were both left reeling for a moment, tangled together on the ground.
“My lord m-my deepest apologies”you stuttered out quickly, unraveling yourself from his grasp. You pushed yourself up off of the ground, offering your hand to the man you had just collided with, your eyes flickered around your surroundings trying to find the angry wedding goers. Terrified that they were catching up to you.
His gaze couldn’t help but linger on the woman in front of him as he slipped his hand into yours despite the chaotic situation. He was struck by your appearance, the way your stray hairs blew in the breeze, your cheeks that were tinted red from the running. The wedding dress you were wearing-
“Is this your wedding dress?”Colin Bridgerton spoke out suddenly his eyes widened, you pulled him up from the ground. Your hand still clasped his in a tight grip, as he spoke aloud your head involuntarily turned to face him, your eyes meeting for the first time.
Your heart skipped a beat as you took him in, your eyes tracing over the contours of his face, his long brown hair fell over his forehead, giving him a ruggedly handsome look that you couldn’t ignore, his clothes were slightly disheveled from the fall.
“I am so sorry my lord, I didn’t mean to knock you to the ground like that I was foolish and I wasn’t aware of my surroundings”you shook your head, nervously rambling. Before you could answer the Lord’s question regarding your wedding dress the sound of shouting and footsteps approaching got louder, this time catching the attention of the man whose hand was still intertwined with yours.
“I have to go”your words came out in nothing but a whisper as you began to pull your hand away, your mind racing with the thoughts of the wedding party growing closer. His grip on your hand was gentle but enough to keep you close. He spun you so that you were facing him again, concern evident in his expression when he glanced down at you.
“My lady are you in danger, are you okay?”he noticed the panic starting to take a hold of you-your breathing becoming erratic. His voice was serious, but somehow comforting. Again the words had gotten caught in your throat as one single tear managed to fall onto your face.
You didn’t answer, but your frightened expression told him all that he needed to know, he spoke urgently trying to calm your panic.
“I have a carriage, waiting around the corner”he nodded his grip on your hand still firm.
“You can have a ride, to wherever you are headed”Colin quickly offered. Your heart swelled at the idea of someone trying to help you, your eyes widening with surprise and thankfulness.
But you couldn’t go with him, firstly the two of you were strangers in passing, you weren’t married, to be seen together without a chaperone was shameful, and could ruin a persons reputation if someone caught sight. Not to mention you were in a wedding dress running away from your own ceremony.
Lord Bridgerton saw the hesitation on your face, and the reason behind it. However he was determined not to let you go.
“Please” he pleaded, his tone soft. “This does not feel right. You are in trouble, let me assist you. I do not care for gossip or scandal. My carriage is around the corner, you would be safe there. You do not have to return to those people” It was almost as if he was promising that to you.
You nodded slowly, realising that you had no choice. Within seconds you began following him, your hand remaining in his as he hurried you away from the area. The commotion coming from the wedding party fading into the background, replaced by the sounds of your own breaths and the clatter of your collective footsteps. You stumbled a little, falling slightly because of your heeled shoes getting caught on the bottom of your dress.
Colin was quick to adapt, noticing that your shoes were slowing you down. He stopped in his tracks and without a moment of hesitation he dropped to the ground balancing on one knee, peering up at you for permission.
You nodded, your mouth falling open slightly with shock as you watched him lift the hem of your dress, unbuckling your heels and slipping them off of your feet, holding them tight in his left hand, extending out his right hand for you to take. The gesture was a mix of practical and strangely intimate and you couldn’t help but be touched by it.
You caught a glimpse of the carriage awaiting you, it felt like freedom. He lifted you into the carriage, you let out a small gasp at the motion before he climbed in himself swinging the door shut afterwards.
The silence was heavy, only broken by the sound of your ragged breaths as you tried to regain your composure. Sitting across from him, your dress spilling out around you on the leather seats, your hair static from running. You eventually found each other’s gaze, and for a moment you sit there, simply staring at each other, the only sound the rhythmic clopping of the horse’s hooves outside.
You were the first to break the silence entirely, your voice laced with gratitude. Stammering out a thank you.
“It wasn’t your position to help me, but you proceeded to anyway. That is admirable and so very brave and kind however I cannot let you into any more inconvenience and trouble, so you can just drop me off down the street and I will travel from there”you spoke out gently, but certain.
Colin Bridgerton leant forward in his seat the protest clear in his tone.
“I’m going to London, I’m taking you all the way to where you need to go. I’m certainly not going to drop you off in the middle of nowhere when you have nothing to support you”
You shook your head, your confusion mingling with a growing sense of wonder. Why is this stranger going so far out of his way to help you? You glanced up at his sharp profile, illuminated by the carriage lamps, his eyes serious and his mouth set in a determined line. Even with his stern expression he was infuriatingly beautiful.
“Where are you headed to?”he asked, curious as to what your answer would be.
Colin noticed the doubt on your face as you hesitated to answer his question about your destination. It was clear you did not have a plan, that you didn’t know what to do or where to go next. His expression softened a fraction, a hint of concern in his eyes.
The Bridgerton couldn’t explain exactly what it was about you, he just knew that he didn’t want to leave you, that he didn’t want you to go off on your own. Was it your innocence, the rawness of the situation? Maybe it was the way his heart beat differently whenever your eyes would meet. An insane, yet intoxicating idea began to form in his mind. A plan so unexpected and abrupt it felt so right. His thoughts were interrupted by your words.
“If we are to travel together I do not want you to think I am a con artist, I do not want you to think that I dabble in adultery of any kind. I couldn’t go through with the wedding because it wasn’t my choice to marry, my father owed a distasteful man a lot of money, and they couldn’t afford to pay it back. So they chose to pay by making me marry a man that is twice my age”Shame clung loosely onto your words, hanging your head.
He listened intently, his eyes never leaving your face as you started to explain. His expression remained solemn but curious, absorbing your words. As you mentioned the fact that your family had offered your hand in marriage to settle their debt, a flicker of anger passed through his eyes, quickly replaced by sadness.
“What are you going to do now?”he uttered out, his concern growing once again. You shrugged, your expression a sign of acceptance.
“I do not know”you answered honestly this time, your voice quiet and steady. “I suppose I will just keep on going. Find somewhere to reside, find myself some work.”You seemed to have resigned yourself to a difficult future.
He couldn’t help but feel indignant on your behalf, angered by the thought of your suffering because of your parents’ actions. He took a breath, gearing up to say something that he knew was insanity, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was right. After a moment’s hesitation he proposed his idea.
“Come to London with me?” he blurted out, his tone almost too casual to believe the intensity of the suggestion. “For the season. I’m just returning back to my family home from travelling abroad”he continued.
You couldn’t hide your astonishment at his suggestion, your eyes wide in surprise. You coughed out a question, your voice reflecting her confusion.
“Why?" you asked, shaking your head. "Why are you doing all this for me? We are strangers”
Colin could see the bewilderment in your eyes, the way your head shook slowly as you tried to make sense of his proposition. He leaned forwards slightly, his gaze meeting yours steadily.
“Because you need help," he said simply. "And I want to be the one to give it to you."
You looked at him, your confusion slowly giving way to curiosity. The biggest flaw in his plan was glaringly obvious: you were not married, and society would frown upon a woman travelling with a man who wasn’t her husband let alone living with him.
“But how would that even work?” You stammered. “We are not married, I would never want to bring shame and gossip upon your family”
You noticed a glimmer in his eye before he uttered out two words that made your head spin.
“Marry me”
“I beg your pardon”the words fell out from your mouth involuntarily like you had just regurgitated them.
“If we become engaged to marry, you may have a room in my estate house, I would be able to support you with clothes, and money. When the season ends, we do not have to marry but you will have enough to start fresh. Somewhere new-not to mention you would be helping me a great deal aswell it would keep my dearest mother and the ladies back home at bay.”
He could see the disbelief in your eyes, the way your jaw hung open as if the words were beyond your understanding. He knew he was asking a lot, proposing marriage after only just meeting and under your circumstances. He spoke calmly, attempting to reassure you.
“What is your name, My Lord”a whisper left your lips.
He chuckled slightly at your response, understanding that even with this proposal, he’d forgotten the most basic form of introduction. He held out his hand to you, waiting for you to take it. When you did, he smiled brightly, his grip gentle. “Colin Bridgerton,” he said, his voice clear and smooth.
“Lord Bridgerton, my name is Y/N Y/L/N”you offered shaking his hand.
He smiled at the sound of your name, the way the syllables rolled off your tongue. As your hands met in the handshake, he kept his grip firm, your hands lingering in the connection for a moment. “Lady Y/N Y/L/N” he repeated, testing out the feel of your name.
His grip loosened, but not completely, his fingers still holding onto yours lightly. “Please, call me Colin,” he said, his tone warm and informal.
His eyes bore into yours, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone-becoming raspy sending shivers down your spine. Without breaking the connection between your hands, he leaned forwards a fraction growing even closer together, his head tilting slightly. And then, a soft, simple word escaped his lips.
“Will you?”
A moment passed before a small smile etched itself onto your face.
“Colin Bridgerton, you are quite possibly the craziest man I have ever had the honour of being acquainted with”
He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as you spoke, using his full name in that sweet tone of yours.
“You are very much dressed for the part Y/n”he teased in that same low tone that made you blush, you let out a light laugh, staring down at the wedding dress you had been wearing for hours.
“I suppose you are right”you grinned.
“Am I to consider that a yes?”You tried to ignore the glimmer of hope that glazed over his eyes. You couldn’t believe that you were considering it, but you nodded accepting his proposal.
Colin let out a sigh of relief, one that he didn’t know he had been withholding, the two of you breaking into a fit laughter as you both looked forward to the adventure ahead.
Summary: Penelope wages a war as the night seems to never end. Both Colin and you experiencing grief. Bridges crumbling for a silenced storm leaves a bitter taste at the battlefield. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7]
Letting Prudence guid you, she approached her dearly husband by the pillars. Prudence let go of your arm as her husband noticed the slight distress on your face. – “Are you quite alright, Y/n?” – he asked placing his hand gently against your upper arm. You simply forced out a smile, not wanting to say much. He turned to his wife for more reason. Prudence leaned in a bit closer to whisper to him. Looking away, you tried to look around for Penelope. Unsure of what she might do. A waiter with a tray walked past as you snatched one of the glasses before it was out of reach. Drinking nearly half of it in one breath.
Prudence kept whispering to her husband as you knew it was so obviously about Penelope and you. She must have heard something. Not wanting to wait for the aftermath, you slipped away before they could notice you. – “Y/n I…” – Robert started wanting to be of some kindness to his sister in law. Stunned he lowered his hand. No sight of you. – “Where is she?” – Prudence asked confused, getting a bit on her toes to overlook. – “I’ll look for her.” – Robert replied to reassure his dearly wife. He left Prudence’s side, joining the crowd to find you.
Colin looked surprised seeing Penelope stand in front of him. From the sense of her expression, he knew she had something burning on her lips. Colin turned a bit away, to set his almost empty glass aside. – “Everything alright Pen?” – he asked, bowing his head a bit closer to her. Keeping his voice down for eager ears. Penelope sighed determined. – “I must speak with you.” – she addressed him. – “Of course.” – Colin replied moving a bit closer to her. Penelope’s gaze went around the entourage behind Colin.
“Not here.” – she insisted. Colin nodded. With one last glance over his shoulder, he followed her through the crowd to across the room. They neared the large windows that overlooked the gardens. By a large candlestick, Penelope came to a stop. Colin coming to stand before her. – “What’s wrong?” – he questioned, thinking perhaps something was wrong. Penelope took a deep breath before blurting out her next words. – “I love you.”
Her words reaching Colin as he stopped. Frozen in time. Staring speechless at her confession. – “Colin, I love you.” – she repeated needing to see a reaction out of him. Colin blinked stunned, perplexed by the revelation. – “Colin say something.” – she outed a bit impatient. – “I…I…” – he started, gulping loud as for once he didn’t know how to respond to it. – “You surely must have known…” – she went on reaching her hand out to touch Colin’s hand. – “I…I had no idea.” – he confessed moving his hand a bit back at her sudden touch.
“Penelope…” – he started rubbing his forehead thoughtfully. His mind processing a great deal of information. He turned more towards the window, pressing his palms against his face, groaning loud. – “Why… why did you tell me this?” – he asked, almost snapping at her. Penelope blinked surprised. – “Because I love you and I…” – she started interrupted by Colin. – “I love your sister.” – he made clear. – “My…my sister?” – Penelope repeated near to stuttering.
Colin took a step closer to her, taking her hand. – “Pen, we are friends. For a very long time now…” – he started speaking. Justifying himself as Penelope took a step back, her hand slipping out of his. – “You are rejecting me.” – she breathed out, feeling herself get warm. Needing fresh air or she would faint. – “Pen I…” – Colin reached out for her, but Penelope moved her hand up. Moving dizzily on her feet. – “I…I must…” – nearly losing her balance. Colin flinched ready to catch her if she would faint.
It was getting harder for her to breath, needing an escape. Penelope turned away, stumbling towards the doors. – “Pen!” – Colin called out worried, going after her. Penelope’s heart was thumping loud. Panting loud as she forced a way out. Short breaths as she felt like losing oxygen. Her world crumbling down. The cold didn’t seem to bother her. Boiling up like a stove, she broke out in a sweat. Waving her hand, she called the carriage over. Gasping for air, she tried to fan herself some cool.
The carriage came to a stop. Penelope hurried over as they held the door open for her. With some assistance, she got in. Urging the carriage to start riding. Colin ran out, panting loud as he saw the carriage of the Featheringtons ride off. Colin whistled loud with two fingers in his mouth to call for their carriage. A footman waved at the courier. The carriage rode up to the front. – “Follow the Featheringtons carriage!” – Colin ordered before getting on. The courier lashed the horses, taking off in the midst of the night.
The carriage was wobbling with the intensity of the ride. Hooves thumping over cobble stone to catch up with the carriage up ahead. Colin loosened his tie around his neck for more breathing area. Hoping she wouldn’t faint in her carriage. Despite the confession, he stilled cared much for her.
Penelope held her hands against the frame by the sides. She started sobbing loud. Please, please have lied just now. She thought. Not wanting it to be true. Not wanting it to be true that he was in love with her sister. More tears started to come as she couldn’t stop herself. Wiping her tears aggressively away, she reached forwards. Sitting back with pencil and paper in her hand.
Robert pushed himself through the crowd, finding Albion near the desserts table. – “Albion!” – Robert called out, stopping his brother-in-law from stuffing a bit of cake in his mouth. – “Have you seen Y/n?” – he asked worriedly. Albion shook his head. Robert sighed in distress, touching his forehead whilst turning a bit away. – “Is… is something the matter?” – Albion asked curiously wiping some sugar of his fingers.
“She and Penelope are not on good terms.” – Robert let out, looking around. He took his leave again to search for you. Albion set his plate back, hurrying after his brother-in-law. – “Y/n!” – Robert called out leaving the ballroom to search elsewhere. – “Y/n.” – Albion repeated after Robert pulling a curtain aside to see if you were there. Robert gave Albion an expression if he was being serious right now.
Albion pulled his shoulders up, continuing to go after Robert. In the long hallway, they each took a side. Opening door after door to search for you. Nearing the end of the hallway, they found themselves in a glass room. Overlooking the back gardens. In the middle of the round room a large stone vase with potted plants and flowers in it.
From behind the stone vase, Robert noticed a shoulder. He went around the stone vase, Albion coming around the other side. – “Y/n.” – he said relieved coming to kneel before you. Albion joining Robert a bit shyly. – “Robert?” – you answered slightly surprised, wiping your cheek dry. Turning your gaze to Albion as well, confused. – “What… what are you doing here?” – you asked as Robert came sitting beside you. - “What are you doing here Y/n?” – he returned the question with a little nudge. Albion came sitting at your other side. – “Should you not be enjoying the night?” – he asked looking back at the garden.
Lowering your head, you exhaled soft. – “I’d much prefer to stay here.” – you answered with a faint smile. – “What is going on between Penelope and you.” – Robert asked, making you turn your head away from him. – “Y/n I know something is wrong. Prudence hates to see you like this.” – you scoffed when he brought your sister into this. – “I hate to see you like this.” – he added placing a hand on your knee.
Taking a deep breath, you let your head fall back. – “It is impossible. I fear the drift between Penelope and me will not be mended. Not while Colin remains in the crossing.” – you told them. – “You like Colin Bridgerton?” – Albion said stunned. – “As does Penelope.” – you replied not sure why you were speaking so openly with them. It was like you just needed some brotherly advice. Something you would never get with your sisters. – “I see…” – Robert rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“And Colin appears to like you in return.” – Robert added making you widen your eyes at him. – “We are no fools Y/n.” – Robert spoke. – “It would take a blind man not to see it.” – Albion added. Ashamed you groaned loud, letting your hands catch your face. You felt a hesitant hand pat your back. Glancing to the side, it was Albion. – “It is truly a cross…” – he mumbled out. – “We…we do not have…uhum… experience with…” – Robert started nervously.
“Having ladies fall over us.” – Albion finished making you laugh soft. Lifting your head a bit up, you admired Albion’s shy smile. – “Now that is a lie Albion. For you are much adored.” – you told him. Albion chuckling sheepishly. – “By you all.” – he replied looking at Robert and you. Robert gave him a playful shove for being so silly.
“Y/n.” – Robert poked you on the arm to get your attention. – “What do you truly… desire…” – Robert asked. With tears in your eyes, you looked at Robert. – “I want to choose him.” – you spoke, voice at the brink of cracking with emotion. Your lip quivering as you tried to smile. Robert moved his arms around you to hug. Albion joining in as he leaned against your back, holding you from behind.
With the bright light from inside on her face, Penelope exhaled deep. Her decision made. She watched the man from inside, disappear out of sight. The last of her papers in his hand. Slightly turning she heard footsteps. Shoes tapping on the cobble stone. From out of the darks appeared a figure into the alleyway.
Stepping more into the light as Penelope’s eyes widened with terror. – “Colin.” – she breathed out. His expression cold and distant. – “You…” – he responded as it all came to light. – “are lady Whistledown.” – he added trying to grasp the reality. – “Colin…” – Penelope let out in desperation. – “I…” – she formed. A solution. A solution was what she needed.
A lie to divert her attention from Colin. The rest of her words stuck as she couldn’t possibly come up with a lie. She needn’t think of one. For Colin understood. – “Don’t try to deny it. I heard you with the printer.” – he called out, gesturing at the printer shop behind her.
“To think I… I ran after you…” – he exclaimed. – “because I… was worried about you.” – he spoke clearly. – “Terrified that you might have fainted in the carriage and it had abducted you to this part in town…” – he went on, feeling himself get angry. – “When in truth. You knew exactly what you were doing because it was you! You that printed last time.” – Colin raged out with some commotion. – “Colin I did not…” – she answered shaking her head.
“Oh and every other one.” – he cut in repulsed. Penelope pressed her lips together in distress. Colin moved his head closer to her for her to see the tears in his eyes. – “Is it not you who has been lady Whistledown all along?” – he asked of her. Caught, there was no use in lying to him more. Penelope nodded her head shakily, closing her eyes to withhold a sob. The revelation made Colin move back.
Unable to stop the tear rolling down his cheek. – “All along… all of the lies you have told me… all of the things you have written about me and my family.” – Colin spoke with a pained heart. – “All the lies you have written about your own family, about your sister!” – he yelled out. – “Colin please…” – she begged with tears.
“I knew something was wrong!” – he shouted. – “Stupidly I blamed myself…” – he took a step back from her. – “It was you who disgraced Y/n so openly in your lies!” – he called out trying hard to compose himself. – “She…” – Penelope said pleadingly. – “She!” – Colin said loudly back. – “has been nothing but defending you and this is how you treat her?” – Penelope looked in shock back at him.
“Making her feel as if she has been at fault!” – Colin moved closer to her once more. – “but you are the one that is at fault.” – he made clear. – “I will never forgive you.” – were his last words. Penelope closed her eyes, sobbing loud. The coldness of tonight even chillier. Colin taking his leave. Turning his back on lady Whistledown. For all became clear to him. Your last conversation so clear now. Your fear of the prints. You knew exactly who lady Whistledown was and it pained him to know you bore the pain alone.
Summary: Anthony has an argument with his wife, who is from a lower class, when she makes a mistake while promenading with Anthony
(gif is not mine)
Y/n felt like a fish out of water. She didn't grow up in the privileged life that her husband, Anthony, had. Of course her life wasn't bad either, so many others had it worse than her. Y/n was the daughter of well-known merchants, and despite their busy lives where she had to start working as a child to help her family, she was grateful for everything she had.
And then everything changed. Y/n was used to having to speak louder, wipe her hands on her old skirt after touching someone's dirty money, and do manual labor. Until one day, Viscount Bridgerton saw her, and it was love at first sight. A love that was rejected by both for too long.
Anthony was the one who gave in first. He started going to her parents' stall more often, buying things he didn't even need and that others could do for him just so he could look at Y/n. It was indisputable that there was a connection between them. Anthony insisted that they couldn't ignore how they felt about each other, but the girl was afraid. A daughter of merchants marrying into the upper class? It could only go wrong, and to make matters worse it would ruin the reputation of the Bridgerton family. But Anthony made her feel things she never thought she would feel.
Her parents, upon realizing what was happening, warned her of the dangers, but they just wanted to see their daughter happy. In the end, Y/n ended up confessing her love for Bridgerton when he came to her stall saying it would be the last time if she wanted it. Instead of answering him, Y/n took his hand, taking him to an isolated place, where no one could see them, and pulled him into a passionate kiss.
Now, six months after they got married and were living a very happy life together, Y/n was still trying to learn the rules of society. It was a work in progress, and Anthony's mother and sisters helped Y/n a lot, explaining everything she could and couldn't do. There was so much information that she often just followed her instinct, ending up breaking some rules. Fortunately, she had just been among family and hadn't had to listen to anyone's judgment.
It wasn't easy being thrown into high society, dressed in the best dresses that she tried her best not to get dirty, speaking softly, and letting the maids do everything for her. But she would do anything for Anthony, and now she had a lifestyle that many would kill for. She couldn't complain.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
It was a sunny day and so, Y/n and Anthony decided to promenade through the park, taking the opportunity to go on a small boat trip. Everything was going well, the woman had fun touching the crystal clear water and watching the fish that fled quickly while Anthony, who was responsible for the physical work, smiled in amusement.
So, they decided to end their afternoon with one last walk through the park to enjoy the last rays of sun, Y/n's hand on Anthony's arm. Y/n was telling him for the thousandth time how excited she was to go play pall mall the next day with the rest of the Bridgerton family. But Anthony never complained and listened attentively and patiently.
But the couple's peace was ruined when a little in front of them, a woman who Y/n quickly recognized as Earl Harrison's wife, was shouting at a maid. She was already old, and was on her knees on the floor trying to clean the woman's expensive dress. People were sending them looks and Y/n felt fury run through her veins when no one intervened, allowing that maid to be basically humiliated in a public square.
She took a step forward, but was pulled back by Anthony, who was holding her hand while sending her a look. "We have nothing to do with this. It's better not to get involved."
Y/n frowned, shaking her head in denial. "No. I'm sorry, Anthony, but I can't do this. But I promise I'll control myself." She then added in a whisper, "If she doesn't irritate me."
"Y/n…"
But Anthony didn't have time to finish his sentence because his wife was already putting on a fake smile, approaching that scene. "Excuse me, what is happening?"
"Lady Bridgerton, look!" the Countess exclaimed while pointing at her maid as if she were an inferior being, noting that she was waiting for Y/n to take her side. "I came to have a picnic on this beautiful day, but this incompetent woman dropped the cake on my dress. It was my favorite!"
"You sound like a child." Y/n said truthfully, not caring about the gasps heard. Anthony sighed behind her.
"Countess Harrinson, I tripped over a stone. My deep apologies, it won't happen again." the maid, still kneeling on the floor, whimpered. The woman rolled her eyes and gave her a small kick, forcing her to move away.
"It won't happen again because you're not coming back with me. I don't accept mistakes, especially like this." The Countess said coldly, while Viscountess Bridgerton became redder and redder with anger.
"But I—"
"You know, Countess Harrinson, she won't be coming back to you because she's going to work for Viscount Bridgerton. We'd be happy to have you,…"
"Mary." the maid said, putting her hands to her face and crying. "My apologies. Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. That's very kind of you."
"How dare you!" the Countess exploded in anger. "You just disrespected Earl Harrinson's wife." Anthony's wife continued to look at her indifferently. The other mumbled in frustration, "I'm going to destroy your family's reputation."
"I'd like to see you try." she narrowed her eyes, not looking away from her until the Countess was already well away from them, the other maids hurrying after her. However, the crowd that formed stayed in the exact same place.
"Y/n, what do you think you're doing?" Anthony hissed. "We shouldn't have intervened."
"You can't really expect me to leave her here on the floor. Just because she's a maid doesn't deserve to be treated like this." Y/n snapped angrily at her husband, helping the poor woman to get up from the floor.
"I'm not saying she deserves it." he growled, he too beginning to get unnerved. "But you can't talk to an Earl's wife like that. This is a hierarchy, Y/n."
"If I see someone being mistreated, you can be sure that I will speak however I want to whoever I want."
"Watch it." Anthony warned with his jaw clenched. He looked around, noticing that they were attracting even more looks and attention. People were already starting to murmur among themselves, and Anthony was sure it wouldn't take long for rumors to spread. "Stop it and we'll talk at home."
"Don't treat me like I'm the insolent one." Y/n hissed, pulling her arm away when Anthony tried to pull her closer to him.
The maid seemed to be increasingly panicked, now being the cause of an argument between the Bridgerton couple, who were well known in society. On the other hand, the woman was quite touched by Y/n's kind gesture. In the midst of such an aggressive society, there were people with pure hearts who were not afraid to defend what they believed in.
"We'll talk at home then, Lord Bridgerton." Y/n ended up saying after a few long tense moments in which the two exchanged glares. She straightened her dress and started to walk, but stopped and looked over her shoulder at the maid who was hesitant to follow. "Come on, Mary, when we get to the mansion I'll introduce you to the rest of our maids who I'm sure will help you settle in."
The atmosphere was tense throughout the carriage ride. Anthony and Y/n continued to avoid talking, knowing that an argument would immediately begin. Instead, he seemed to be caught up in his thoughts while his wife was busy talking to Mary, who slowly seemed to be starting to relax.
When the carriage finally stopped, although they were angry with each other, the Bridgerton got out first to help Y/n out, as she was quite clumsy and it wouldn't be the first time she almost fell out of the carriage in her long dresses. .
"My office. We need to talk." he said in a low voice into Y/n's ear who nodded.
"Juliet." the Viscountess Bridgerton called one of the maids. "This is Mary. Please show her her duties and introduce her to the rest of the people. Make sure she feels welcome."
"Of course, Lady Bridgerton."
Finally, the couple was alone, but spirits seemed to still be high. Anthony continued to be frustrated with Y/n because she didn't realize that there was a hierarchy in society, and they couldn't do everything they wanted, or it would harm not only them but the entire family. On the other hand, Y/n felt that Anthony was supporting social injustice, and that no human being should be treated badly just because they are from a lower social class.
"If you're waiting for me to apologize, I won't."
"I'm hoping you realize the gravity of what you just did." Anthony snapped, running a hand over his face with a sigh. "No matter how much it costs you, you have to respect this society and its rules!"
"But I don't agree with these rules!"
"I don't care about that!" the man exploded, not seeing how Y/n flinched. They had never argued like this. Obviously, they had already disagreed on some issues, but never to the point of raising their voices. "You were selfish! Everything you do affects you and all of us. You have to stop thinking only about yourself!"
"Selfish?" Y/n muttered, looking at her husband with a frown. Those words seemed to be like a knife in her heart.
"Did it occur to you that Francesca is going to start her season in a few months? Now surely all the suitors will know about this family's reputation. That we don't respect hierarchy. That I married someone who has nothing to do with this lifestyle."
Y/n's eyes filled with tears. Her voice was shaking, but she tried to keep herself in control, "Well, I'm sorry that I let you down. It wasn't my intention, Lord Bridgerton. I'm sorry that you married someone who wasn't supposed to be here, living with all this money and stupid rules of etiquette. But I will always do what I think is right. Because unlike you, I know what it's like to be looked down upon by the upper classes."
Anthony looked at her with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing several times. "Wait, Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. I don't regret marrying you."
"It doesn't matter what you meant. Really, you should have married someone who was already into this lifestyle, who knew what the hell they were doing. I'm trying, I swear." Some tears fell. "But it's difficult. And dealing with these people, who think they are superior to others, I can't do it."
"Y/n…"
"But you're right. I should have thought about your family. Your siblings could be harmed by what I did, and that was the last thing I wanted. My apologies for that, I will make sure I fix this."
"No, no." the Bridgerton man said, looking desperately at the woman. The woman who gave up her life to marry him, and has tried hard every day to adapt. And here he is, who instead of helping her criticizes her for defending what she believes in. "You're not going to do anything because there's nothing to fix."
"You don't need to say that, I already realized I made a mistake."
"But you didn't, I did. I let myself be influenced by everything that is wrong in this society, and that's why I'm disappointed in myself. But you, my beautiful kind wife, just did what was right, and I'm proud of you. You are not selfish, god you are nothing like that. You do so much for this family, I don't know what came over me to say something as barbaric as that."
"Anthony…" Y/n sighed, not knowing what to say. Her husband, in turn, seemed to have relaxed when Y/n finally called him by his name and not his title.
"I love you. I married you because I love who you are and want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want our children to be as kind as you, and we can raise them to be good people, who help others. I'm sorry for the way I treated you."
Y/n remained silent but let a small smile appear on her face. Anthony also realized that they were better off with each other and took a step forward.
"I will kneel and beg for your forgiveness."
"What are you waiting for?" she teased.
Although she wasn't expecting it, Anthony actually lowered himself to his knees at her feet, looking at her in amusement but also with sincerity. "My apologies, Lady Bridgerton. I will not repeat my mistakes again. I love you and how fierce you are. Now, will you please forgive me?"
"I don't know, Anthony, maybe I need something more convincing." she said, closing her eyes when she felt her husband lift her dress a little to place small kisses on her legs.
hello! 💗 thank you so much for this request, I had lots of fun writing it 😂 mr. I can build a homemade crystal radio experiencing problems with building a crib was making me giggle all the time 🤭😌
my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗
Almost everything had been already prepared in the nursery – Bucky had helped your husband to paint the walls and insulate the window. You had chosen the furniture and decorations and it all looked put together now except for one thing – the crib. You couldn’t find the one that you’d like enough and that would fit in the nursery design. You were slowly running out of time since the baby would come in less than two months so on that weekend Buck took you to one of those big stores in the city. It took two hours to drive there from your town but you promised him that this time you would choose the crib for sure.
“What about this one?” You asked after a while of staring at one of the cribs in front of you. It was light wood and there was a picture of a cute teddy bear on the side.
Your husband furrowed his brows and inspected the price tag. He hummed to himself for a while and began to examine the crib itself, knocking on wood and feeling the texture with his fingertips. You chuckled at the sight – one would think he was a carpenter and therefore an expert.
“So?” You asked, impatiently.
“It’s nice,” Buck admitted and straightened his back. “It’s convertible, too,” he added. “Are you sure you want this one? I won’t be coming back here to return it if you change your mind tomorrow.”
“Oh, I am sure!” You smiled at him and caressed his arm.
“Do you need some help?” The salesman approached you with a smile. “You seem to be interested in this model.”
“Yes, we are. We want to buy it,” Buck told him.
“Excellent,” the salesman nodded his head and pointed at the counter with the cash registers. “I’ll bring one from the storeroom,” he told you and walked away.
“From the storeroom?” Buck furrowed his brows at you. “I thought we could take this one,” he pointed at the crib behind you.
“Don’t be daft, it’s a big city store! They have these for display only,” you sighed and dragged him to the counter, excited to finally make this purchase.
The salesman joined you a moment later, barely holding a huge box with the image of the crib chosen by you printed on it.
“I’m paying all that money and I have to put it together on my own?” Buck asked and you tugged on his sleeve to shush him. The salesman raised an eyebrow at him.
“It’s designed to be assembled quickly and easily, sir,” he assured your husband. “But if you require an additional help, we can–”
“No, thank you,” Buck chuckled at him as he took his wallet out of the pocket. “I don’t need help with such things. I can build a homemade crystal radio out of a wire,” he casually bragged as he put the money on the counter. It was unlike your husband to act like that, so you assumed the salesman had upset him with his insinuation that building a crib would be too difficult to handle.
The salesman widened his eyes as he laid his eyes on you and you rolled his eyes and smiled at him. He relaxed and handed Buck the big box before taking the money. Your husband struggled way less with holding the box than the salesman had.
“Please, wait a second, I need to give you a receipt just in case you want to return,” the salesman brought out some papers.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Buck told you and you nodded at him. He walked away and when he was out of sight, you bit on your lower lip and approached the salesman.
“So… What if building a crib turns out to be more difficult than building a radio?” You asked him.
“There’s a manual inside the box. And a phone number in that manual. The factory that made that crib produces lots of furniture and they have a hotline for people experiencing problems.”
“Thank you,” you smiled at him and got the receipt.
Buck was determined to put the crib together on the same day. When you walked inside the house, he brought the box upstairs as you followed him.
“Gale, I’m about to prepare dinner now. It can wait for tomorrow,” you leaned on the doorframe of the nursery.
“Oh, please, baby, it’s gonna take me five minutes. You won’t even boil the water before I finish,” he opened the box and discarded the manual as he threw it across the room.
“Buck, I’d rather you not…” you crouched down clumsily to pick the manual up. “I mean it, Gale. I know you’re good at such things and you have nothing to prove,” you sighed. “I wish you assembled this crib according to the manual because I want it to be safe for the baby,” you pointed out.
“Go, make dinner. You can inspect later if I did it right if you know so much about building cribs,” he looked up at you. He was more playful than rude but you were sick of his attitude anyway. You threw your hands up in the air to show defeat.
“You know as much as me about building cribs… but fine,” you rolled your eyes and left the nursery with the manual still in your hands.
You went downstairs to boil the water for the pasta and began to work on the tomato sauce. Fifteen minutes later the food was ready but your husband was not.
“Gale!” You called for him. “The food is ready!”
“Give me five more minutes!” He shouted down and you nodded to yourself.
Five minutes later, you called for him again.
“Gale, I’m hungry!”
“Eat without me!” He answered in a tone more frustrated than before.
So you did eat alone and even washed the dishes while his plate still was on the table. You sighed and walked back upstairs.
“Baby, your food’s getting cold,” you entered the nursery and then you gasped at the sight of his focused and angry face and all the screws scattered all over the floor. The pieces of the crib were not put together almost at all. “Jesus, Gale,” you laughed and he looked up at you. His anger turned into embarrassment as he blushed immediately.
“I’ve never seen furniture like that! Don’t laugh at me, it’s the new generation or something,” he mumbled.
“Buck, baby…” you chuckled at him as you approached him to fix his ruffled hair. “Go downstairs and eat. We can deal with that tomorrow, alright?”
“Yeah,” he nodded and sighed in defeat.
You turned the light off and closed the door before going back downstairs after your husband. You sat by the table with him and watched him eat.
“Is it not too cold? I can heat it up for you,” you proposed.
“It’s fine,” he shook his head. He was still blushing and visibly avoiding your gaze.
“You know, in the manual, there’s a phone number. We can call them tomorrow, they have a hotline for people experiencing problems and…” you started.
“I’d rather die than call them,” Buck looked up as he told you, seriously.
“There’s no shame in not knowing everything, Gale,” you chuckled softly.
“It’s about honour,” he shook his head.
“Honour? Baby, for God’s sake, it’s only a crib!” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I can call them and pretend that it’s me experiencing problems.”
“You will not do such a thing,” Buck pointed his finger at you, sternly. “I can start following the manual, fine, but I will not call any hotline. And you will not either.”
“Okay, okay…” You rolled your eyes again at him. “But you’re so stubborn sometimes.”
“I’m the father of this baby and I will build that crib myself,” he told you.
“Alright, but I don’t mind calling the hotline, just so you know. It won’t change anything for me and I won’t tell anyone about it if it’s so important to you,” you assured your husband.
“It is important to me and it will change everything for me,” he stated.
That night before sleep, instead of reading a book, Buck was analysing the manual.
After breakfast you both went back to the nursery. You sat in the armchair with the manual book in your hands and watched Gale gather all the scattered screws to put them back in one place.
“Now, I will read the steps and you will do what I tell you, yes?” You asked for confirmation of the plan you two had for this special task.
“Yes, sir,” he nodded playfully and you chuckled at him.
With your help – and the pictures in the manual – fifteen minutes later the crib seemed to be already assembled. You stood up to examine it but it was stable and balanced properly. You showed Buck where you wanted it to stand and he moved it to that very spot as he stared at his creation proudly.
“You see? No hotline was needed,” he told you and put his hands on his hips.
“No, no hotline,” you approached him and put your arms around him to hug him tight. “Just listening to your wife, hm?”
“Yeah,” Buck chuckled and kissed the top of your head, “just listening to my wife.”
Please can you write a Buck x reader where he's really protective of her while she's pregnant? I think he'd be SO attentive and constantly making sure she's okay
hello! 🤰🏻🤰🏾 thank you for your request 💕 I think he'd be the best daddy and very involved in the pregnancy unlike most men back then 😊
I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻
You reached above your head to grab a box on the top shelf of the wardrobe. It was no easy task, especially now when you were six months pregnant and you felt much heavier and slower. However, you didn’t want to ask Buck for help because he was busy reading a book downstairs. You didn’t want to bother him with something so silly.
You managed to grab the edge of the box as your tongue stuck out a little out of effort. You pulled the box closer and lost the grasp of it. You could only watch it hit the ground as you quickly took a step aside to avoid being hit with it. A loud thumping sound echoed all over the bedroom as you sighed and watched all the photographs from the box scattered all over the floor.
The door opened rapidly, which startled you.
“Gee, Buck, I had no idea you could be that fast,” you chuckled, trying to crouch down to collect the photographs.
Your husband was a few shades paler as his eyes were widened. He approached you and grabbed you by your shoulders, making you straighten your back. You furrowed your brow at him.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
“Yeah,” you nodded.
“Something fell down. I was scared it was you,” he admitted as his eyes scanned you up and down as if he didn’t believe your assuring words.
“I’m fine, Buck. It was the box. I tried to reach for it,” you told him.
“You should have called for me,” his tone was serious, nearly scolding. You sighed and rolled your eyes.
“I didn’t want to bother you. But now, when you’re here… You can help me to pick them up,” you proposed and Buck nodded without a word. Always eager to help and making sure you don’t overwork yourself even if it was a task as easy as this one.
He handed you the empty box and sat you down on the edge of your bed before crouching down and picking up the photographs. He was handing you them one after another and you could watch with a gentle smile all the beautiful memories that were there.
“What did you even need that box for?” He asked.
“I felt a little sentimental,” you told him as your lips curled into a smile at the sight of your wedding picture.
“Next time you feel a little sentimental, you call for me to help you,” Buck muttered to himself. He wasn’t really angry but you could hear his nervousness, still scared for you even though nothing had happened.
“You know, I got used to doing everything on my own,” you carelessly commented as you placed the picture inside the box and reached your hand out for another one. But there was none, so you lowered your eyes to meet your husband’s gaze. He was staring at you with his beautiful blue eyes but they were suddenly filled with pain and guilt.
“I’m sorry I left you for such a long time. I never meant to,” he whispered.
“Oh, Gale, baby, I didn’t mean it this way…” You bit on your lower lip and held his hand to pull him closer. He sat up on the bed next to you, clumsily – which was unusual for him. He put his arm around you and hid his face in the crook of your neck. “I don’t blame you for that, love. I’m glad you came back to me, doesn’t matter how long it took,” you assured him as you caressed the back of his head. “What I’m saying is, I learnt how to be independent. And sometimes…” You hesitated, not sure if you should finish the sentence. “And sometimes I forget you’re back home,” you finally added and took a deep breath in. “I’m upstairs, doing something and a noise from the living room startles me… Only then I remember that my husband is back with me,” you turned your head to place a kiss upon his forehead.
Buck looked up and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the tears welled in his eyes. You cupped his face to caress his scars gently and you gazed back at him, hoping he could see all the love in your own eyes, because words seemed to only make it worse.
He was home for nearly a year now but it took time to accept his presence once again. Just like it had been difficult to accept his absence after his departure.
“Here, can you feel it?” You quickly grabbed his hand and put it on your swollen bump as the baby inside you moved. You smiled at your husband through your tears and saw his face lighten up again. “I can’t wait for the nurse to hand you Baby Cleven. You’re going to be an amazing daddy,” you told him.
“Only time can tell,” Buck sighed.
“No, I just know it, baby,” you assured him. “Just like you’re an amazing husband,” you added. “Now, hand me the rest of the pictures and let’s just put that box away, hm?” You encouraged him and he nodded before leaning in to peck your lips and then moving back to the carpet to give you the rest of the scattered photographs.
Once you were done with it, you went downstairs with Buck and walked into the kitchen since it was time to prepare the supper.
“I’ll do it,” Gale insisted.
“I’m pregnant, not sick,” you chuckled. “I can handle making my husband a sandwich. I like taking care of you,” you shook your head and approached the counter to take the bread out but Buck followed you.
“Let me help at least,” he put his hands on his hips, completely lost at what to do.
“It is not complicated, Major Cleven. You just slice bread and put whatever you want on top,” you laughed. “Well, you can make tea if you really want to do something,” you nodded at him and he smiled.
As eager to help as a child wanting to assist their mother. You found it adorable in a way, or perhaps those were your hormones speaking.
“You know,” Buck started suddenly, “I’m reading that book about babies and I am really worried about some things.”
“You what?” You stopped slicing the bread for a moment as you froze and looked at him in disbelief. A slight blush on his cheeks was making your heart swell.
“I’m reading a book about babies. The one for fathers that was recommended by the doctor,” he explained.
“It was only a recommendation, baby. You’re probably the only man who actually bought it,” you laughed lovingly at him. All your friends who had been lucky to get pregnant before you, had been telling you many stories about their husbands not wanting to participate in anything baby-related. And here he was, your dear husband, Major Gale Cleven… Who had actually bought a book about babies recommended by a doctor. “You’re one in a million, baby. Just reminding me every day why I love you,” you quickly caressed his arm just in case you had embarrassed him accidentally with your reaction. “What were you worrying about?”
“There are just so many things that can go wrong. And it’s scaring me,” Buck admitted quietly, avoiding your gaze. “Things beyond my control. I can try my best and still not be able to prevent them from happening.”
“That’s what life is like, my dear. I thought you’d know it by now,” you hugged him and caressed his back. “But we’re together in this. We can do it. And the things that are beyond our control… Well, they’re beyond our control. We shouldn’t worry about them now. Why focus on the bad things?” You tried to cheer him up.
“What if I lose you?” He asked, his voice breaking.
“You won’t, I promise,” you took a step back to look into his eyes.
“You can’t promise me that,” Buck bit on his lower lip as his jaw clenched; all in effort to stop himself from crying again.
“You couldn’t promise me either. When you were going to Europe, you promised you would be back. But how could you know that? I remembered what one of my friends had told me. Them pilots die like flies, she said. But I refused to listen to her because you…” You put your hand on his chest. “You gave me a promise. And I know my man doesn’t break his word,” you looked up with a gentle smile.
“And…” Buck cleared his throat. “And the little one?” He asked, nearly naively. You chuckled softly and placed his hand on your bump again. The baby moved as if they knew they had been addressed.
“The little one promises to be alright, too, daddy,” you assured your husband. “Now, let’s make these sandwiches, mummy’s hungry,” you bopped him on the nose.
Buck was watching you sitting on the edge of the bed and putting a lotion on your legs, belly and arms. Pregnant or not, he loved to admire you as you were performing your little rituals. When you were done, you laid back on the pillows and sighed.
“Can you imagine that in three months we’ll have Baby Cleven with us?” You asked with a soft smile.
“No,” he admitted in a whisper. “Truth to be told, I can barely believe you’re my wife.”
“Don’t be daft,” you caressed his hair. “Come here, tell us a goodnight story?” You proposed and Buck nodded as he lowered himself to place a kiss on your bump and lay his head next to it. He put his arms around your waist and closed his eyes, savouring the sweet and intimate moment.
“Which story, love?” He asked, gently caressing your bump.
“The one about a princess waiting for her knight to come back from the war?” You asked. It was a story Buck had made up some time ago for your little baby, which was supposed to reflect the story of your child’s parents. But he was still working on the details, changing the plot here and there each time he was telling this story. You liked it not only because it was about the two of you but also because it was giving you a feeling of creating something together for the baby already. Even though Baby Cleven still needed three more months to grow under your heart, you already felt like a real family. There was not a day passing by when you were not grateful for your husband being so involved in the whole process.
“I thought you’d be sick of that story by now,” Buck chuckled.
“No, I will never be sick of it,” you assured him as your fingers brushed through his golden hair. “And I hope Baby Cleven will want to listen to it every day, too.”
“I highly doubt that,” Buck muttered with his face pressed to your bump, kissing it one more time.
“We’ll make up another story then. And then another. And another. I’m sure we’ll come up with dozens of amazing ones. We can make it a family tradition. What do you think?” You asked and he looked up at you. You couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful he was at that moment, with his eyes filled with love and admiration, letting himself be vulnerable and soft in your arms.
“I think it’s a beautiful idea,” he nodded.
“Wait, let me grab a notebook,” you reached out to the bedside table to get a notepad and a pen. “Let’s start writing them down.”
"Art didn't do anything wrong; he's the good guy." Like, be so fucking for real, I'm going to need you to watch this movie again. Art can be your fav; he can be the character you relate to the most. But please, let's not lie. At the very least, he fucked over his childhood best friend out of jealousy. He saw an opportunity when Tashi got injured, and he took it, the people around him be damned. And I say the least because Art is manipulative throughout the movie. Just because he covers it up with this timid nice guy persona doesn't mean that's not what he was doing. I worry about the fact that people can't seem to enjoy a character unless they try to erase all the wrongdoing of the character.
i think we are all forgetting something when we talk about how toxic patrick, tashi, and art are — or when we decide one is “worse” than the other. they all have moments of seeing right through it, seeing each other’s toxic behavior for what it is, and STILL want and need each other in this possessive, envious, visceral way.
1. in the way beginning, tashi is clearly flirting more with art than patrick, and patrick is visibly annoyed. art sees right through it and even challenges him like “okay, let’s leave”, and has this little smirk on his face because he knows patrick won’t give up on tashi.
2. tashi immediately sees the visible tension and love between art and patrick, and literally orchestrates their first kiss. she sees right through their repression, and even calls herself a “home-wrecker” but still entangles herself with them, especially patrick because he’s clearly the better tennis player at that point and that is tash’s ONLY true love. tennis. that’s what she desires most in him, and patrick knows that. he even calls her out on it in the dorm room scene. but they have this mirroring fire in each other that neither of them can give up, not until patrick breaks the balance and bails — tashi’s injury is literally a metaphor for the balance shattering between all three of them when patrick leaves her.
3. before this, patrick sees right through art trying to break them up, and even admires that quality — maybe even feels smug and flattered because art is jealous and feels left out from both tashi and patrick. patrick has known this all along, we saw it in the “tick-serve” scene, where he even swears to tashi he won’t tell anyone but he still tells art, who is desperate to feel a part of them and patrick wants that, too — even keeps that close intimacy with art that we see in the churro scene (swoon swoon swoon).
4. haven’t you noticed that arts desire to be great is only ever tied up in patrick and tashi? how he needs to beat patrick to win tashis affection, how he needs to win in tennis so that tashi can live through him, how he lives up to his potential in the ending only because tashi and patrick push him to it, in their little fucked up ways? he knows this — he even admits that he’s playing for tashi, that he knows she’s living through him. he even admits he’s playing a fucked up little game with patrick when they’re in the sauna. yet he still does it. again, he knows what’s happening, sees right through them — still does it, still loves them.
5. when tashi calls patrick to come pick her up he knows it’s not just to tell him to throw the match — and despite how she battles him about it, they still have sex in the car, because he already knows. he’s so fully aware of her and her game and he’s so willing to be caught up in it, the same as art.
just some examples of how they all have moments of clarity and agency and yet they still choose to be entangled in one another because they’re all fucked up in their own, individual ways, and they’re all living through each other for their own specific needs. arts is to be seen as worthy, as great, but only through their gaze. tashis is to have the career that was stolen from her. patricks is truly to be in love and in lust with both of them, because we even see that from the beginning that tashis love alone will never satiate him; it has to be arts love, too. that scene in the sauna when he thinks he’s lost it from art is the most sad and fucked up we ever even see patrick. on top of tashi asking him to throw the game — he’s so defensive of arts feelings.
in short this is an actual love triangle (and i would go as far as to see it as a polyship). you can’t erase one without the whole thing unraveling, and you can’t say one character was the “worst” without picking apart the motivations and pointing to the fact that their bad behavior was never a secret or left unchecked.
even at the end, patrick signals to art that he slept with tashi — art knows and they still have that intimate completion at the end, all three of them. art living up to his potential and embracing patrick fully (id argue this could even be a metaphor for embracing his bisexuality), patrick having both tashi and arts affection again, and tashi playing a phenomenal tennis match through her little white boys — in such a visceral, emotional way that she cries out like she did in the beginning and the last frame is her smiling.
in a fucked up way, they all get what they wanted out of each other.
gamechangershow
titsay
stormborns
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
romaincrisis
