#When I am two months away from my oregon life???

[euphonetic]

Ottessa Moshfegh and Sarah Marshall?????

[christmascheeseballs]

Till Death Do Us Part  – An Arthur Morgan x OC Story *PART TWO*

Content Warnings – Kidnapping, Death Threats, Micah Bell, Trauma, Angst, Character Deaths, Eventual Happy Ending (not in this part), Reference to torture, reference to sexual assault, not described, one brief mention of both

Word Count – 1.7k

Part One - 1.3k words (17th July 2024)

Part Two - 1.7k words (17th July 2024)

Part Three - 1.2k words (19th July 2024)

Authors Note – I’m so sorry for the confusion of Bonnie the horse and Bonnie MacFarlane in this – my horse irl is a Belgian draft, and I thought it would be cute to put her in this but it just ended up confusing lmao

-x-

7 years later

February 16th, 1907

I found this old journal today while looking through my Arthur’s things. Me and Bea moved into our new home about 6 months ago now, and I finally had the chance to sit and go through all of our old belongings. I found Arthur’s journal, and after spending a few days crying over his sweet notes, all his loving words about me etched delicately with his careful script, I decided to start sharing my own thoughts. Share my problems to someone other than Bea or Bonnie. 

We now live on a ranch, west of Blackwater. God it feels strange to be back in this area again. After leaving Abigail and the others in Oregon all those years ago (I miss them all so much), myself and Darcy, my sweet girl, headed across the country to find somewhere safe to have my baby. We settled in North California, just on the border. While the busier state was helpful for delivering my baby, my country soul could not cope and we soon continued south. Hopping from place to place, we have finally found a home. Its been a lonely few years, and I haven’t seen Abigail or any of the others since those fateful days. As far as John and the others know, I either ran away or died out on the trails. It breaks my heart to break theirs, but needs must.

As I said, we now live on a ranch west of Blackwater - MacFarlane’s Ranch. While Bea is cared for my some of the local ladies, who enjoy teaching her to read and write, I spend my days in the corral, training the horses that the owners of the ranch bring in. I can still remember the days when my Arthur first taught me to ride, all those years ago. And now here I am, teaching horses how to take care of their riders, teaching young fillies and colts all the groundwork to set them up for life. I’m quite a horsewoman nowadays!

Speaking of horses; my sweet Darcy was retired 2 years ago now, and I have managed to organise for her to have her own paddock on the ranch to live out her days. I know that retiring a horse ain’t all that common round here, but Miss MacFarlane seemed to have a soft spot for my sweet mare. My heart genuinely aches when I bring her in from her paddock to check her over, and my sweet Bea runs over to see her, clamouring to ride. I allow her to sit on her while I walk back to the field, but that is all. She has the passion for horses that her daddy had, and that I’ve tried to continue for him.

My new horse is a stunning and versatile red roan Belgian Draft mare named Bonnie - I purchased her from a fellow in Montana at the same time as retiring Darcy, so I can promise that her having the same name as Miss MacFarlane is pure coincidence! Bonnie (the horse, that is) is such a perfect mare for my little family - she can drive us to the local town with the wagon, and also allow me to use her to ride, and even teach Bea to ride! I thought I’d struggle finding a horse as perfect as Darcy, but Bonnie sure ain’t that far off. Although, have a horse as stocky as a draft horse after years of riding a fine thoroughbred is definitely a difference!

I truly hope we can find happiness here. 

Florence Morgan

-x-

On the 25th May, 1900, Beatrice Abigail Morgan was born in the state of California, to Mrs Florence Morgan. And now, at nearly 7 years old, the two of you had settled down into the ranching lifestyle, with Bea finally given the chance to go to a proper school and learn to read and write.

Whilst life hadn’t been kind to the either of you over the past few years, you truly felt you’d found a place you could finally settle in. MacFarlane’s Ranch was a simple but efficient farm, with a well established cattle and equine business. While the men handled the cattle, a position had opened up in the training and husbandry of the horses; when you saw the role in the papers, you had nearly screamed. Especially when you saw the gleaming words “house available for successful applicant”. It was practically made for you. 

Now, your days consisted of waking up early; avoiding waking up Bea; feeding all the horses in the stables; sneaking back home; giving Bea her breakfast and sending her off to school with Mrs Nelson across the road; backing, exercising, and being thrown off countless different horses; ideally selling a couple to clients; before collecting Bea and preparing dinner before bed. 

A simple enough life, but busy enough to keep your mind free from the ghosts of your past. 

Free until nightfall, that is. That is when your mind filled with panic, dread, and guilt. Guilt for your husband, being left alone all those years ago to die to the hands of Micah Bell. You never got to visit his grave - as far as you know, he never got one. Dread and panic at the sickening gut feeling you had in the base of your stomach that something would happen; and soon. Years of running and fighting finally catching up with you.

-x-

You were used to waking up in a cold sweat, but tonight was different, your fears felt more daunting, more real – you awoke, gasping from the night terrors that plagued you, trying to steady your breathes and keep Bea asleep, her small body in the room next to yours. As your panicked gasps subsided, you swung your legs out of your cot, a daunting weight sitting heavily on your shoulders. As your eyes adjust to the darkness in your room, you glance at the clock. Despite feeling like you had been trying to fall into a sleep for hours, it was barely 1am.

A deep sigh left you as you stood, taking yourself into your small kitchen to pour yourself a mug of water. Standing at the window, you glance outside towards the corral, a small smile etching itself onto your face when you spot Bonnie led down, fast asleep. You envied her.

Looking past the corral, you spotted a group of pale, flickering lights – lanterns, you thought – moving swiftly towards the ranch. This wouldn’t be the first time bandits attacked the ranch, and would likely not be the last. You sigh, this must've been the gut feeling you had minutes before. Before the lights could get any closer, you grabbed your coat, covering your chemise, and shoved your feet into your boots. You picked up your Lancaster Repeater, the one Arthur used and lovingly cared for until passing it onto you, and dashed towards the MacFarlane’s farm house.

Hammering on the door, adrenaline rushed through your veins as you waited for the family to wake up. A shadowed figure appeared in the doorway of the farm house. “Florence? What’s goi-”, she stopped, realisation spreading across her face as she spotted the threat approaching the ranch. She grasped her rifle by the door, a serious expression setting in her face.

A fight was on your hands

-x-

The attackers had shocked you, at first. Whilst there were various casualties, they had not come in guns blazing, seemingly searching for something rather than being out for the kill. Their masked faces surveyed the area, before one man – which hauntingly familiar eyes - stopped on your figure, hidden slightly behind a cart in front of the corral. He stopped, and stared, before nodding at something behind you.

Next thing you knew, a pair of greasy hands wrapped themselves around you, one of them covering your mouth, the stench filling your nostrils, the other bringing a knife to your throat. Bonnie gave you a panic stricken look, her eyes darting over to your homestead. Big mistake. The man holding you spotted this look, and chucked – a sneer that you’d never thought you’d have the displeasure of hearing again.

“Go get her brat, Dutch.”

2 months later

As if life hadn’t been hard on you already for as long as you could remember, the past few weeks were just the cherry on top. After being kidnapped by Micah Bell, you were beaten, tortured, and taken advantage of on an almost daily basis. Fed the bare minimum to survive. As much as your blood boiled with anger when you saw the face of Dutch Van Der Linde, you had to thank him. He was able to keep Micah and his men away from Bea, a soft look appearing in his eyes whenever he laid eyes on her.

Although you hoped that you could sense the guilt when he glanced at you, he couldn’t bring himself to keep them away from you as well.

When you first realised it was Dutch seemingly orchestrating the attack on MacFarlane’s Ranch, you saw red – but could do nothing about it. Micah pressed the blade closer to the skin of your neck, breaking through the first few layers as you hissed in pain under his hand. Dutch turned towards your house, coming back out minutes later with a trembling Beatrice Morgan. But he looked pained.

Now, after being captured and tortured for the past few months, you knew that Dutch was as trapped as you were. Whilst you held no true sympathy for him, you knew that he did not take a part of your capture willingly.

As the days went on, you slowly begun shutting down, loosing any hope of rescue. You knew that Bonnie and her father, the sweet family that they were, would’ve tried to find you at first, but you also knew it was a helpless task. After taking you from the ranch, the group had travelled west, settling in western Texas for a few weeks. They had then moved east again, back towards New Hanover – but for some unknown reason decided to settle in the mountains of Ambarino.

Heavy snow and biting cold plagued you every day, as you clutched onto Bea, giving her the scraps of any food you were scarcely given, trying to have her eat as much as she could. Even Dutch sneaked her a few thinning blankets on one particularly frigid night. You were at a true loss of what could be done. Until one fateful morning, a gravely, and scarily familiar voice rang out from the mountains outside.

“Micah, if you’re in here, come out”

-x-

Thanks for reading, please like, comment and reblog <3

[ccthewriter]

CC's New Watch Ranking - June 2023

Every month on Letterboxd, I make a list of the 10 best films I’ve seen for the first time. It’s a fun way to compare movies separated in time, genre, and country of origin, and helps me keep track of what I’m watching! This is a breakdown of those films.

June! An exhausting month. We wrapped on the movie after a number of 12+ hour days. That, on top of two new jobs that picked up this month, turned June into a stressed mess for me. I spent a lot of time in bed and in the garden, trying to quiet an overstrained brain. For the first time in three years, I have seen only the 10 films on this list this month! That’s why Zaslav felt safe firing all the TCM folks, he knew I was away. But this gives me a chance to discuss some movies I wasn’t crazy about and explore why. There’s something to be learned from every film, even those that don’t please. (I am going to yadda-yadda through some entries, though.)

Click below to read the breakdown! Click HERE to view the list on Letterboxd!

10. Night Moves 

1975- Arthur Penn

Was kind of disappointed that this didn’t move for me as it does for others! It reminded me too much of this schlocky film I watched earlier this year Stick. Stick had Burt Reynolds going to Miami to be a double-agent chauffeur for the mob. Or something. Night Moves had the exact same thing happen? Or something? Maybe that’s on me for not paying better attention. 

I promised myself I would explore why this didn’t capture me. The best I got is that it’s a slow moving mystery centered on a rather boring figure. Next!

9. Bringing Up Baby 

1938 - Howard Hawks

See, I heard about this movie a long time ago. Never in my life did I think the ‘Baby’ in the title was a leopard! This is a fun slapstick comedy about a man who fumbles his hot paleontologist wife for a pathologically lying Katherine Hepburn. I get it, who wouldn’t do the same in that situation, but I was surprised there wasn’t more back and forth between Hepburn and Grant’s fiance. Not quite as charming as another slapstick comedy on this list, but still immensely satisfying. 

Cary Grant in a fluffy nightie? 👀 Reeks of gender.

8. Bend of the River 

1952 - Anthony Mann

The river! It bends! I find myself watching a lot of pre-1955 movies while I’m doing other tasks. Cowboy flicks and noirs make great background noise. Their rhythms and plots can be so predictable that you can fall right back in if you lose attention for a few minutes. This one gripped me, though. My cinematic nemesis James Stewart plays a black hatted cowboy trying to reinvent himself, escorting a group of settlers to their new home in Oregon. The supplies they ordered don’t arrive in time, so before winter sets in he rides to find what happened to them, visiting the den of villainy and sin known as… Portland. It’s very funny to see the city depicted as a town full of drunken gold miners and thieves, when in a century it will be home to queer witches and their burlesques. (Hi Caity <3) Fun plot, a few interesting reversals, and more colonial assumptions than I can typically stand. It’s no McCabe and Mrs. Miller, but if you’re in the mood for a PNW Western, look no further. 

7. Step Brothers 

2008 -  Adam McKay

A movie so culturally dominant that I knew a huge amount of lines without ever having to see it. It was fun! Will Ferrell and John C. Riley have perfect comedic chemistry, and embody this strange energy of 15 year olds trapped in 40 year old bodies perfectly. The entire film works off of their performance. Just like last month’s Face/Off, two actors giving singular, unique performances is all you need to make a memorable picture. 

6. Battling Butler 

1926 - Buster Keaton

It’s Buster Keaton! It was fine. I don’t have any more interesting thoughts on him in this movie than I would have in the next one.

5. The Cameraman

 1928 - Buster Keaton, Edward Sedgwick

Extremely fun. Buster doing a bit of metacommentary on how artists are valued, and the systems they have to engage with in order to find work. Extra satisfying to view amidst the writer’s strike. These studio heads would have nothing without the footage that the people on the ground capture. The Tong War battle at the end is particularly engaging. It’s the sort of Looney Tunes/Roger Rabbit comic energy that I adore, able to float through a conflict without any worry or care. Satisfying, destiny-bound ending. 

4. Once Upon a Time in America 

1984 - Sergio Leone

Now we get to the good stuff. Sergio Leone is synonymous with the Wild West - why is it so surprising that he would take on another classic tale of Americana? A gangster drama, an immigrant story, a distinctly East Coast experience of the twentieth century and the superpower that defined it. Where his cowboy movies focus on the mythic qualities of its protagonists - framed among giant landscapes, attention drawn to their weapons and horses - the protagonists of this film are framed within a series of relationships. It is their association with the people around them, the space between their bodies, that Leone captures so well. It is a promise of genius from a filmmaker whose career ended too early. This is a freewheeling biopic of a Lower East Side urchin who rises up towards the top, intersecting with high levels of power and upheavals in his closest bonds. Framed by an opium dream, not afraid to break free from logic, this is a masterful exploration of a cinematic space from one of our best directors.  

3. Asteroid City

 2023 - Wes Anderson

I feel so lucky to be alive at a time when I can see Wes Anderson movies in theaters. The sheer thrill of this opening sequence…. A black and white TV format exploding into a wide frame, desert-chic phantasmagoria, a MINIATURE TRAIN MODEL title sequence… god. Irreplaceable cinematic moments. It needs a gigantic screen to be really understood. 

I think a lot of the theatre-going experience, of the crowd itself, as I remember this film. It was a great sample audience. A group of teen boys who must have just started their summer break. Several pairs of old women enjoying long-scheduled friend dates. A nuclear family. Me, alone, having made use of the Value Tuesday discounts. ($1 off hot dogs!) The whole crowd laughed throughout the thing - has Anderson ever been this funny? It made me feel a lot of hope, that an audience would take such pleasure in little background beats and quiet humor. Much of movie rhetoric paints The Audience writ-large as a bunch of mindless Marvel fans who need jokes telegraphed from a mile away. How hard the subtle humor hit really made me happy. 

The story itself is something I’m going to have to meditate on. Anderson is working some meta-commentary that can be hard to grasp with only one viewing. I get the sense he’s looking at his own work and his style of directing. He’s famous for his ensembles - it’s a movie about a cast making a play. He’s famous for his invented worlds - we walk backstage and meet a writer-director who literally lives in a set after the performances are done. He’s a director beset by nostalgia for times he never lived - Jeffrey Wright says to a bunch of young geniuses, “Should have picked a better time to be born.” This is why I feel such a thrill, such satisfaction, in being alive while his movies are airing. I get to witness the years, hopefully decades, of discussion that this movie inspires. I think this is already ripe for a “Underappreciated in its time despite being his masterpiece” sort of thing.

2. Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse 

2023 - Joaquim Dos Santos, Justin K. Thompson, Kemp Powers

God, what a lovely film to watch. My gushing excitement for this is cut by the recent revelations about its production. I spit on the names of Lord and the names of Miller, I wish them to suffer as they have made others suffer. I think of how beautiful this film is - how every frame is a gorgeous vortex, how you could hit pause at any moment and drink in one billion details that all add up to an incredible whole. I think of the well-crafted story, the nail-biting cliff hanger, the desire I had walking out of the theatre for simply MORE. And I think of how much better this could be if the artists making it were paid more fairly and given more breaks. Look at how beautiful this movie is - IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE BEAUTIFUL IF THE WORKPLACE WAS LESS TOXIC. I reject any narrative about this film that says that, somehow, all the blood sweat and tears made it what it is. No. Absolutely not. This move is what it is because of hundreds of people toiling *despite* the invented hardships. It is so symptomatic of what is wrong in Hollywood, why so many people are striking now. They are being hampered from making their work excel because of these greedy people at the top who project their insecurity  and petty rage all the way down. 

Anyway. I love Miles. I love Gwen. I love all my Spiderfriends. Hope to see them again some day under less toxic circumstances. 

1. What’s Up, Doc? 

1972 - Peter Bogdanovich

I’ve been studying the screwball comedy this year. It’s an oft-used term without a great definition. It’s got romance and laugh, it has some odd personalities… but what else? Does it need an aggressive woman? A reluctant man? Do they need to be thrust together by fate? Do you *have* to have an outstanding ensemble, or does that just happen by coincidence? As I try to pick apart these elements I watch this on a whim one day and see that Peter Bogdanovich has already done all that research and found his answer. Screwball comedy? It looks like this. It’s What’s Up, Doc? 

From the old-Hollywood opening credits that’s a hand turning a book, to the delightful absurdity that is its central premise - what if a spy, a jewel thief, and some dude all had the same luggage? - everything about this is finely tuned to make you laugh. Barbara Streisand is more or less literally playing Bugs Bunny. How amazing is that? There are so many things that will make you well up laughter that I hesitate to try and explain them more. Just watch this incredibly funny, charming movie. I have a private litmus test for how good a movie is. Often I’ll watch stuff with my wife sitting next to me as she plays video games. If a movie drags her attention away from the game and keeps her locked in the whole time, that is a great film. It was that way with this. Highly recommended. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you liked any of these thoughts feel free to follow me on Letterboxd, where I post reviews and keep meticulous track of every movie I watch. Look forward to more posts like these next month! 

[mamatayto]

Ya know; I'll admit that it sucks and hurts to not have my childhood best friend in my life anymore. Another broken piece of losing and leaving everything behind to start a new life, to start over with my husband and kids.

Sucks that she believes lies and rumors from others that I'd steal from her like that. The most comfortable person to talk to about any and everything just gone and moving on enjoying her own life. Having nothing she would ever want to share or say to me again other than bitterness and anger of her own.

Ya know what hurts most about not having her in my life anymore? All the things we said we would share together as children that are now gone. What hurts the most other than NOT being able to share my failures, tragedies, and victories with her; is the emptiness left inside knowing the amount of years we would just talk talk talk talk and fantasize about being aunites and being there for when we have children finally... and their very first aunt to love is just gone.

When she thought she had proof of my stealing from her, she told me she was done and blocked me everywhere. I told her I don't have time for that kind of drama right then, and that if she blocked me and chose to reject me she wouldn't be allowed to take it back this time. I even let her know albeit angrily that I had been asked out, and was going to leave state to start my life over and have babies finally. I just KNEW he was the one who would get me pregnant and father my babies. And she didn't even care due to her own sense of betrayal and anger. Now my 2 beautiful babies are here and she is not. I often day dream about her driving up on weekends just to hang out with the kids. Chatting and chilling like we used to.. except with the kids. She would really love them both....

What hurts the most is what she is missing out on now.

But.. she is moving on and making her own happiness in the world which is fantastic.

Ya know ... it was really hard the day my son was born. March 24th. All I really wanted to do was video call her to show him to her and talk about how odd and wonderful it was that my second child was born in the same month as she is.

Or to talk to her about every struggle of parenting and living with my in-laws.

It hurts and is sad she gave that all up. But as long as she's happy it was worth it.

I love you always no matter what Jammie... I'm no longer watching you and following your posts. You know how to reach out to me. I won't reach out since I'm not the one who blocked and walked away. But I am sorry for the way things happened.

That being said...

My new life couldn't be better too. I'm with a loving and nurturing man who doesn't hit me and slam me against fridges when he is drunk or had a bad day. He actually pays attention to my moods, and actively WANTS me around. Took him awhile to get there, but also defends me against his parents. Finally starting to be on the same page with me on parenting. Living with two toxic in-laws hasn't been easy, and being molested by my father inlaw has made living here very difficult mentally and emotionally. We are moving into our very own and first rental house mid May, which I cannot wait for in layers of reasons. It hasn't been perfect or easy, and nothing in life is... but overall I couldn't be happier and remain focused on being a stay at home mom for now. I won't be a working mom for awhile yet.

Still trying to learn to drive. Having a he'll of a time just passing the multiple choice test yet, especially when there are differences from state to state. When living in Oregon I was 2 questions away from passing. Now though? Now I'm lucky to score 42%! But as soon as I'm driving I get to do all sorts of things including take up an Instacart Driver job.

Just being a mom of 2 so young, and house wife keeps me crazy busy.

But I do love my life now. And my family.

I don't know why trying out poly was so important to me I'm my past. Maybe because I wanted to be loved the way I needed without having to leave what I already had. Idk. But it wasn't for me or right. I'm relieved and blessed to be with a man happy to only have 1 woman in his life. In fact when I found a couple potential women to play with he got mad and asked me if he isn't enough for me. I was confused because what man doesn't want 2 women st the same time for fun? But it's MY man who don't care about that shit. Lucky me honestly~♡

Even though you won't talk to me Jammie, I'm glad we are both moving forward and mostly happy now. That makes all the pain and distance worth it.

[diduthinkihadforgotten]

as my escape to oregon nears i am confronted yet again with everything im running away from.

my mom and i are talking about san jose, and i say something about the child. she says it’s not my problem anymore. that he was not my child and that doesn’t make anything i did for him any less worth it.

she asks what you think of me running away and i get quiet. i know because my kid brother repeats her question like i have an answer for him that i did not for her.

i clear my throat and tell her we don’t talk anymore. she seems disappointed at that. she changes the subject before my brother says something else accidentally insensitive.

two entirely random dudes texted me during my exact week of covid. one of them is joining the military, and the other is 26 and struggling to get a job at trader joes. i’m running away from them, too.

the vague idea of responsibility. the idea of moving on.

there is a part of me that is still playing tennis with Her on the court at our old high school.

i come to terms more with what i’m running towards. i can’t fault him for making his intentions clear. i cannot separate his newfound intentions with his brother. i think that this may be the one case where it is truly about him and not about me.

trader joes boy sends me cat memes. he’s from exactly 38 miles from my hometown so it’s safer to be honest with him.

i tell him my life is falling apart. that i make terrible decisions for myself and that it more than often feels like everything i’ve meticulously piled around myself to stay safe has begun caving in on me. i tell him im running away to oregon to escape everything i’ve ever known, and going back to the only place i ever really felt like i was on my own.

i say to the other boy that i miss the weather. that it’s noble to escape. he agrees, but i don’t think he knows what i mean. my mother says something about how the military is a way out of poverty for some, and some sociopathic part of my brain jumps at that.

it’d be easy to become that type of vampire. i tell Her on the phone. she agrees. i tell Her that i am always looking for an out. some kind of unhealthy escape. some new identity i can push myself into and hide within until i get bored of being something other than myself.

we talk about that movie with the Changelings. i tell her i miss her. we talk about how we don’t know how to be when we’re on our own. i think we knew at some point. i think we forgot over the past few years and have to learn again.

like watching people learn to walk again after that stroke a few months prior when i worked at the nursing home.

i say i’m coming to terms with it. i tell her that existing scares me, and that the girl who walked me through my freshman year wants to hang out when i’m not sick anymore.

i say something about timing. changing my pillow cases. she hangs up and i go back to that kind of silence im trying to run away from.

[paleclementine]

Here is my diary entry for the new year. Later I want to make a post of my ten favorite songs and reasons behind them. But for now here's my year.

I started this year off strong with the 2nd worst existential crisis I've had within the past 5 years of my life. Very depressed and lonely all throughout winter, but it was somewhat okay because I was anonymous in my apartment and didn't have anyone constantly judging me (compared to now). I definitely was afflicted with the trans fever, probs as a result of new discovery, and kinda made it my thing for all those months. Anthony made me food every night and we always hung out together. I entertained the notion of going to Oregon for school but changed my mind once I found out how much it costed. then I wanted to do van life, and I still have that commitment. Tbh, I still have trans fever, but it's less about ftm than it is just hating being a girl. I got really into cosplay and watched new shows like Monster and Fullmetal Alchemist. And I also rewatched Attack on Titan and gained a new love for indian food. That winter was the coldest and snowiest yet. I finished my final draft of my book, Sharper than Silver, but decided I want to rewrite the whole thing before I decide to query it. In its stead, I started writing a long fic for Bungou Stray Dogs, which I am still continuing to this day (80,000 words so far).

Then I moved back home and was immediately not just depressed, but in despair. It was a severe adjustment to go from living on my own for two years straight to living with my parents and family. It was a really rough start with fights with my sister and arguments about getting high with emily and drinking alone.... womp womp bad decisions but i had already decided that summer would be my alcoholic arc!!!!!! it low key helped me cause now I don't super like drinking anymore unless it's worth it. anyway-- I saw taylor swift, dyed my hair ginger, cut my bangs, cosplayed Chuuya, got high with bonnie, got violently high with emily, binged markiplier fnaf and Unus Annus, hung out with emily jensen, and ummm. yeah. I did spend a lot of time outside too- specifically the forest behind our house. I visited anthony one week and that was a fr relief, esp because it was an impulse thing after a fight with Hailey. I actually thing I booked it after that crazy argument with my mom where she threatened to stop funding my college. any fucking way . summer came and went. Through it all, my hatred only grew. That summer was very bitter, I think...

Then me and mom drove back to school and thus starts that ordeal. The road trip was good but boring. i met my roommates, and at first it was fine because i was a victim of the "freshmen friendgroup." I had a brief partying phase but quickly came to realize that my roommates are shallow and easily leave people out if you don't follow them like a lost dog. Then three more girls moved in with us and I slowly drifted away from all of them. Classes were also really boring. I ghosted a girl who was low key obsessed with me. I went on a road trip to southern Utah with my dad and saw the eclipse and it was low key miserable but I'm glad he got to make those memories. Emily flew to Utah and we went to the convention together and the salt flats and logan and it was so fun :) but Sam was so cruel to her for it and I really started to hate him then. Anthony was sweet than sweet to me throughout the semester, but halfway through we decided to stop eating dinner together because we were spending an obscene amount of money of food. This was when I started my "diet," which is actually a wannabe eating disorder. I lost 7-10 pounds from it. I'm actually super proud of myself for it. But amidst these things was a growing hatred for my roommates, who I still can't stand. I tried in vain to sell my lease and move apartments, but no one offered to buy it so I got stuck there. Then I left for Christmas break and me and Anthony went to NY with the fam and then I went home home.

And that was my year. It didn't seem like I did that much, but it genuinely feels like it's been an eternity since last January. I've changed so much. I think I've gotten... not more sure of myself, but more comfortable with being uncertain. I also grew the balls to actually put in the work and lose weight. and I am more comfortable with my gender, whatever it may be, and don't burst into tears when I get drunk and think about it too hard. And this whole year was the year of Taylor Swift, Ginger Hair, Bangs, Pale Skin, and writing, writing, writing. So much more has happened and there have been so many more changes, but that is all I can think to include in this post.

[intheatticoftheuniverseee]

sand

I feel the sand on my bare feet as the sun sets over the waves off the Oregon coast. My fists are clenched and my shoulders are sore, but for once I can breathe. I’ve found solace, for now. Two days later I’m back with my partner, profusely apologzing for leaving her, taking the blame and punishment I deserve.

It’s 4AM and I wake up to someone screaming in my ear. I sit up quickly and turn to her, hold her face in my hands, and look her in the eyes. “Come back to me. I’m right here. You are loved, and your are safe.” But she stares right through me. All she can say is “Fuck you. I hate you.” My heart breaks for the thousandth time. As I fight back tears and continue to comfort her, the agony is unbearable. I walk away in an attempt to calm myself, but she grabs me, digging her nails deep into my arm, breaking my skin. 

I’ve been here before. I know what’s about to happen.

I run for the front door. She’s right behind me, kitchen knife in her right hand. I turn around and she lunges. I fall to the ground as the knife passes inches above my head and into the wall. I grab her arm and we struggle in the hallway of our brand new apartment. Eventually, I pry the knife from her grasp and run to the guest bathroom as it clatters to the floor. Clawing, screaming, and pulling, we struggle and fall onto the cold, hard tile. Finally, I push her out and lock the door. 

I take a quick glance at the mirror. My shirt is ripped open and blood trickles down my neck and my arms. I don’t recognize the person I see, and I don’t feel a thing. My ears ring, and all I hear from the other side of the door is the phrase “I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna fucking kill you.” I slouch to the ground, back against the bathtub, falling into a dissociative haze. There’s blood and handfuls of hair on the bathroom floor, and my body is frozen. My vision is blurry. I close my eyes and pass out amidst the chaos. Anything to escape from this reality. 

At some point I wake up, and I find her in bed, crying and angry. It is now my job to comfort her, take care of her, tell her I forgive her, that I understand, and that it was all my fault. I tend to my own injuries…wound gel, scar cream, hydrocoloid bandaids…anything that will hide the scars. Then I massage her and tell her stories until the sun comes up, to soothe her nervous system and help her sleep.

I don’t sleep. My alarm goes off at 7AM, and I’m up on my feet again, making breakfast, coffee, a bento lunch to-go, and kissing her goodbye as she leaves for work. She is gone for the day, but my nervous system is on red alert. My fists are clenched and my shoulders are stiff as I hunch over my work laptop and try to focus on my own job. I want to take a shower to cleanse myself, but I can’t. There are cameras everywhere in the house. Every move I make is monitored and recorded. I have strict instructions on what I can and can’t do. I follow them, because I fear what will happen if I don’t. 

The cycle continues. One day, many months later, I find the strength to run away again. I’m on the same beach, watching the same Oregon sunset. This time, it’s winter, and I stay a day longer. Then I go back and cry and apologize for leaving again. You see, I don’t have anyone else in my life at this point. I don’t remember the last time I talked to my parents or my friends. The only reality I know is the one that I’m in. My instincts tell me to leave, but I keep coming back. 

But each time I ran, something felt different. Finally, I ran, and I never went back.  

Time passes quickly but my body heals slowly. My scars refuse to fade, and I rarely sleep though the night. I am working with my third therapist this year. When I look into the mirror now, I recognize myself, but I still don’t fully understand the person I’ve become. Relationships scare me and flashbacks paralyze me, but each day I try to remind myself: I survived. I survived the abuse, and I am surviving the trauma. 

I haven’t been back to that beach ever since. A strip of white sand, untouched by civilization - the only place in the world where I felt safe. If I could go back, I would lay there, close my eyes, feel the wind, and just be present. I would let my body relax. I would tell myself: “You are loved, and you are safe” - the same words that I repeated to others so many times. But this time, I would offer myself that same grace. And every time the sun sets over that horizon, my body will feel a little lighter, my breathing a little slower, my mind a little clearer, and my heart a little fuller.

[nbmsports]

At the U.S. Open, Wyndham Clark Is Confident, and It Shows

When Wyndham Clark was a kid, his mother, Lise, would tuck short written notes in his knapsack, little missives meant to lift his spirits or motivate him during the day. Clark tried to hide the notes from classmates because they became a source of teasing, especially when he was younger.During interviews in the 10 years since Lise Clark died of breast cancer at 55, Clark has often said, “I’d give anything to have those notes now.”But Clark, among the leaders after the second round of this week’s U.S. Open, has no trouble recalling the most lasting of his mother’s messages — at least as it relates to his professional golf career.“When my mom was sick,” Clark, 29, said on Friday, “I was in college and she told me: ‘Hey, play big. Play for something bigger than yourself. You have a platform to either witness, or help, or be a role model for so many people.’“And I’ve taken that to heart. When I’m out there playing, I want to do that for her.”Clark conjured the memory in the wake of two consecutive stellar rounds at the national golf championship at Los Angeles Country Club. After shooting a sparkling 64 in Thursday’s first round, Clark followed it up with a three-under-par 67, which had his name atop the U.S. Open leaderboards for several hours before the Friday afternoon wave of golfers teed off.Clark’s distinguished play was not a fluke. He has steadily been climbing the world golf rankings with six top-10 finishes on the PGA Tour during the 2022-23 season. Last month, he earned his first tour victory at the Wells Fargo Championship in Charlotte, N.C., a milestone that Clark, now ranked 32nd in the world, said significantly bolstered his belief in himself.“It was big, to me, it felt like a major championship,” he said on Friday. “I just feel like I can compete with the best players in the world, and I think of myself as one of them.”Several years ago, Clark did not have the same confidence. In the months after the death of his mother, who had introduced him to golf as a toddler, Clark struggled on and off the course.When he competed poorly, Clark would storm off the golf course and, he said, “just drive away as fast as I could, I didn’t even know where I was going.”“The pressure of golf and then not having my mom there and someone to call was really tough,” he said after his Wells Fargo victory last month.He missed cut after cut and withdrew from Oklahoma State University before eventually settling at the University of Oregon. Slowly, he said, he found his equilibrium. He debuted on the PGA Tour in 2017, and while the acclimation to the vicissitudes of a pro golfer’s life took time, by last season his play was consistent enough to earn more than $1.5 million in prize money.“I was building my confidence bit by bit, which is, of course, so vital in this game — or any profession,” Clark said.His self-assurance was on display as he played the L.A. Country Club’s devilish par-5 14th hole on Friday. Clark’s second shot settled in deep, gnarly rough about 30 yards short of the green. His third required a gutsy flop shot from a sketchy lie that had to land with spin and precision on a blazing fast, sloping green.He kept the shot on the green and then drained the 13-foot putt for a spectacular birdie. After his round, Clark, with a wide smile, conceded that his third shot was “very risky.”He estimated that in a normal PGA Tour event, he would successfully execute the shot 70 percent of the time. Friday’s round, though, was conducted under the withering pressure of a U.S. Open, so the chance of averting a bogey, Clark said, “was way less because you have the nerves.”But Clark insisted he never wavered about what shot he had to try.He would play big.“When I’m out there playing, I want to do that for her,” Clark said of his mother. “I want to show everyone the person I am and how much joy I have out there playing.“I was walking the fairway yesterday and just kind of smiling because I was playing well. And I go, ‘Man, I wish you could be here, Mom, because it’s a dream come true to be doing this at the highest level.’”He added: “But I know she’s proud of me. I am who I am today because of her. I mean, I’m getting a little choked up. I miss her, and everything I do out here is a lot for her.” Source link Read the full article

[jreynoldsward]

This was the view this morning. About three inches here. It melted away during most of the day, but now it's snowing again. However, we're supposed to have temps in the 60s next Sunday. Will that happen? We shall see....

Another week where I'm wrestling with the very concept of doing this accountability work. Today was a big day and a first--the first quarterly assessment since I've started this tracking system. That meant I looked at my planned production schedule and--flinched. Yes, I'm running behind. Not just for the month but for the year. A big chunk of that, however, was figuring out promotion this month and trying to find a balance between promotion, authentic interactions on social media, and writing time. And horse time, and house time, and sewing time as well!

But I got things done this past month. The updated versions of the Martiniere books are now all up, and all I need to do is tweak the back matter once in a while. At this point, I'm focusing on getting the Netwalk books up--and I absolutely cringed when I looked at my Bowker ISBN listings. Netwalk has something like seven different ISBN versions, all for ebooks, none for paperback. SIGH. Yes, this reflects what was considered to be the thing to do during the early days of self-publishing. You got an ISBN for Amazon, Smashwords, and Barnes & Noble/Kobo because they all had different variants of epub. I eventually dropped getting ISBN for the proprietary Amazon ebooks, then moved to just using distributor ISBNs. Still, I wish I could have had those numbers for the upcoming paperbacks. Oh well. Another batch purchased from Bowker in my future. I've learned my lesson.

Daylight Saving Time also really screwed me up as far as productivity is concerned. However, one thing that is working is using my alarm to get up at eight. Yeah, yeah, that's the easy life of a retiree, except that if I don't watch it, I end up sleeping in more and more, and I don't get as much done.

I am also backing off from trying to market short stories except as a part of a collection. I looked at the rejects I have right now, and decided it was time to hold them for a collection. I realized that I might be able to put together a Weird West collection with my Oregon Country short stories. Two are published; one isn't, and since all three are on the longish side, they can possibly make a nice little grouping. I need to go back through and look at some of my other work as well. If one story comes back, then it would be a good part of a fabulist collection. I could pull out the longer version of that story and combine it with two, perhaps three others for another collection.

The rest? I may need to look at what's SF and what's not, and group them appropriately. I might actually have enough for two separate collections, so...four short story collections, potentially?

Wow. Plus the Tales of the Raven Alliance. One story is out on submission and I may just pull it when it comes back, and use that one for the foundation for a Kindle Vella set of stories before I publish it as a collection.

(And now I need to set up a spreadsheet collecting those stories...eiyiyi).

The Cost of Power is now at around 60k words, and might turn into another Martiniere short series. Or not. I wrote about half of those words in the past two weeks, in part because I had visualized the story to that point. Now I need to turn that energy to Federation Cowboy. I want to get both of those books finished so I can move onto the Goddess's Vision series--oh, and once I finish rereleasing the Netwalk books in paperback, the Goddess's Honor series--incorporating the connected short stories in some cases--will be the next to be reissued.

Plus I made two book bags, one for donation, the other for my projected online store where I'll be selling my small quilting projects along with my books. That's a long term goal. I also made spring decorations and summer decorations--just need to do fall, and then I'll start making SFFnal versions for...online sales.

Busy times ahead.

[omidmahmoodi98]

SEM Seeks Compatible Organization For Long Term Relationship

"...I Know There Just Gotta Be A Better World Somewhere." B.B. King

Over the last several months, I've read multiple threads that noted the explosion in the number of SEO job listings. In these postings, people speculated whether this meant Corporate America was finally recognizing that Search Engine Marketing (SEM) has become an essential core competency that needed to be brought "in-house". I've also read a very funny article about the SEO hiring process from the employer's perspective. However, I have yet to see any experienced SEO/SEM veteran write openly about their experiences looking for a new position. So, I figure that I have an opportunity to write one of the few SEO articles that has yet to be written:.)

My former company embarked on a new strategic direction and I made the decision not to continue with them. I had talked to others in my "mostly local" search engine marketing network in Portland and did not see the right opportunity working with any of these folks. So, like any other person looking for something better, I updated my resume and started my job search.

My Background & Job Search Strategy

I have six years experience in SEO/SEM. I spent two years doing internet marketing in a corporate setting and two years in an agency setting. In addition, I have four years experience in affiliate marketing: 2 years full-time and 2 years as a "side gig" to my agency position. Also, I am a frequent contributor to Search Engine Guide.

I relied upon Indeed.com as my meta-job search engine. I set up the following search: http://www.indeed.com/jobs?q=search+engine+optimization+jobs&l=&radius

I sent my materials to any and all "advanced" SEO positions no matter where they were located. Each day, I received newly posted positions in my inbox and applied to those that met my criteria.

I had no intention of relocating from my Beaverton, Oregon home, but I figured that SEO/SEM could easily be performed from my home office and that forward-thinking employers would get that. I also created a "jazzy & memorable" email address just for my job search and used the following (hopefully catchy) subject line in each of my emails: Successful SEO Seeks Superior Situation. Every potential employer got the same cover letter & resume...I felt that if anyone didn't obviously grasp what I could offer them as an employee, I shouldn't be working there anyway.

The Results

I thought I wouldn't have a problem getting prospective employers interested in my services. I did not foresee the utter onslaught of interest that my resume generated.

I got phone calls and emails:

From agencies, corporations & executive search firms. From far away places like Cleveland, Memphis and Greensboro. From much bigger locations like Washington DC, New York City and Los Angeles where one would think local SEM talent would be more readily available. Many inquiries from Seattle, though very few from Portland. At night and during the weekend. Even on Memorial Day, I received 3 employer contacts. Unofficially, I was contacted by 20% of the people to whom I sent my resume and approximately 98% of my resumes were sent outside Portland. Roughly 20% of the non-local employers were open to a telecommuting arrangement.

Compensation

When people asked for my compensation requirements, I gave them an aggressive number. Almost nobody blinked.

What Can Be Learned From My Job Search Experience

If you are still a student: LEARN SEM!!! The demand for experienced SEM folks is incredibly intense. While the field is constantly evolving, anybody who can keep up and continually demonstrate tangible results will have guaranteed long-term employment. Plus, monetizing your own websites through affiliate marketing & contextual advertising can make your life as a student much more comfortable.

A business or law degree will take 6-7 years of education and could give you six figures of debt. 6-7 years of SEM experience could equate to six figure compensation. What makes more sense?

If you are a beginning to intermediate level search professional: LOSE YOUR ANONYMITY. My former boss gave me the suggestion that I should write SEM articles. I wrote one, submitted it several places, and got it picked up by Search Engine Guide which has continued to publish me. Writing articles (or blogging or forum posting) is an excellent way to establish your professional credibility. Last time I was in contact with Jennifer, she was looking for more writers...

If you run an agency that employs search professionals: It's quite OK to offer entry level wages to search newbies. However, once your employees have proven their mettle, you must act proactively with their compensation. For any of your people willing to make a move, Corporate America will offer them enough money to leave your company.

If you are a corporation searching for a search professional: Be prepared to offer a non-standard employment arrangement. The SEM field attracts a lot of maverick personalities and many SEM's would never consider "going corporate" because they learned search in an effort to escape a traditional working arrangement.

From talking to prospective corporate employers, I got the feeling that NOBODY answering their ads had my qualifications. So, I still was amazed that so many people were not open to a telecommuting arrangement (and I let everyone know that I was ready and willing to travel as needed).

If you are a corporate hiring manager, you should know that most experienced SEM's will perceive your position to be unstable for many different reasons. Will the SEM suggestions be acted upon? Will important people in the organization "buy-in" to the internet marketing efforts? Will the company understand the SEM process and have the necessary patience and budget to implement an effective search strategy?

If you have almost any inquiries relating to exactly where as well as how you can work with seo expert, you’ll be able to email us with our web-site.

[jimblejamblewritings]

friends? | one-shot.

Request: hey! can i please request a twilight imagine where the reader is a trans guy who gets injured running away from his transphobic parents house and the pack finds him and brings him to Emily’s house to try and take care of him? and the reader wakes up and he’s freaked out but they assure him he’s safe now and clean the reader’s wounds and they become friends?

Warnings: angst, slight transphobia, unsupportive

Pairing: Seth Clearwater x trans male!reader (platonic), wolf pack x trans male!reader (platonic)

Word Count: 1,135

“Hey (Y/N).”

You turned from your locker to face the voice that called you. It was Seth Clearwater, one of your ex-friends. They hung out with Sam Uley once and all of a sudden Embry, Quil, and Seth were too good for you. You rolled your eyes as you looked Seth up and down.

“What?”

“Your bag’s open. Dropped this.”

Seth handed you your binder. You quickly snatched it back. Your parents were causing a big fuss so you left the house in a big hoodie and jeans that was deemed “more acceptable” by them rather than fighting. The hoodie helped a bit but you still felt uncomfortable without the binder on and planned to change into it right after homeroom attendance was counted.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

Seth was about to say something else when Jacob and Embry called him over. They walked away from you without a second thought. You ate lunch alone. The only other friend you had aside from Seth, Embry, and Quil was a girl named Carla but her family moved off the res about two months before the guys ditched you.

Carla tried to be there for you but she had her own problems at her new school in New York. You talked on the weekends but during the school week you were on your own. The rest of the school day went by like normal, nothing spectacular or interesting. Just how you like it. You enjoyed the slow pace of a normal life. When you got home, dinner was being made by your dad.

“I’m home.”

“Kiddo. How was school?”

“Alright.” You shrugged your backpack off your shoulders and took out your homework to do at the dining room table.

“Hey, (Y/F/I). Your Aunt and Uncle are coming up for dinner from Oregon. Can we not do the whole ‘you’ thing today.”

Your dad vaguely gestured to your entire body. The only thing your parents obliged you on was not calling you by your birth name, although they would only use the first initial of your new name, refusing to completely give in.

“What?”

“This whole boy thing. Just put on a dress please, you can borrow your mother’s. You and her are the same size right?”

“Okay one, me and mom haven’t been the same size in like a year. Two it’s not a boy thing, I am a boy.”

“Fine you say you’re a boy.” Your mom came into the kitchen. “Don’t boys wear dresses? You know in some cultures, why don’t you just do that for the night?”

“Mom, Dad. I feel very uncomfortable in anything feminine or suggests a more female presenting persona given certain things I am still going through. So no, this boy will not be wearing a dress. I already keep my hair long since everyone on the res does, is that not good enough?”

“Okay. We’ve been playing nice and we’re going nowhere. You’re done! You were born a girl. The certificate we filled out at the hospital says girl and you will always be a girl. This is over! You will be presentable for your aunt and uncle and stop this boy shit.”

You dodged the plate your mother threw. With all the arguments and crap you’d put up with, nothing physical ever happened. You looked at the plate behind your chair. This was the final straw. You left the house not bothering to look back. The tears were streaming down your face as you aimlessly walked around.

It started to rain on you and even your hoodie was soaked at this point. You didn’t notice you had stumbled upon the main road until a car honked you down. You barely had time to jump back and avoid getting hit. You tripped over your own feet and rolled a little bit down the hill, scraping your hands and tearing a hole in your jeans. You were never good with blood and seeing your bloody hands and knees made you faint on sight.

You woke up to the smell of pasta sauce. When you opened your eyes, you were out of your soaking clothes and into something way too big but you liked it. You rubbed the tiredness out of your eyes only to realize when you felt the fabric on your face that your hands were bandaged too.

All of a sudden, your senses kicked into high alert and you shot up like a rocket. You bolted towards the door and only stopped when you heard immense laughter. You turned to see Sam Uley and his gang, including your old friends.

“You know,” Quil started. “You were so slow to wake up if you had really been kidnapped your kidneys would already be on the black market.”

“(Y/N). Sit, we’re having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. By the way, this is Sam, Paul, Jared, and Emily. Hope you’re not weirded out with the clothes. They’re mine, you just seemed kind of cold. Figured it was cool, we’re all dudes.”

Seth guided you to the table. Leah hit him upside the head when he sat back down. “Two of us here are ladies, with the manners to show for it.”

Leah gestured to You were shocked at how everyone but you and Emily were already on their second plate of cookies.

“So how long are you staying?” Sam asked you rather abruptly. He continued when you looked at him questioningly. “The boys told us about what happened. Figured you wouldn’t go back. Emily and I have a spare bed.”

“Mom wouldn’t mind if you stayed with us either. Seth’s room is big enough for two people,” Leah offered.

“So you don’t talk to me for months and I’m supposed to act like this is all cool?”

“We’ll explain that later. Right now we should probably just focus on you.”

“Fine. But if I don’t get answers by tomorrow morning, I’m out of here.”

“Fair. Hey, (Y/N) do you still make those cookies?”

“Cookies?” Paul perked up.

Embry hyped up your skills. “Bro, he makes the best maple cinnamon cookies.”

“Maple cinnamon? You mind showing me?” Emily asked. “If your hands are alright.”

“Yeah. They’re fine. I wouldn’t mind making cookies for everyone.”

“We’re gonna need at least four batches.”

“Four batches? Jake what the hell? Four?”

“We’re growing boys.”

“You’re ravenous wolves is what you are… it wasn’t that funny.” You didn’t understand why they busted out in laughter when you said that.

Emily patted your shoulder as she led you to the kitchen. “You’ll get used to it. Apron?”

“It’s Seth’s shirt, I don’t care.”

“Really? (Y/N)?”

“Revenge for ditching me.”

Seth got quiet and you laughed. You were entertained by the antics of everyone in Sam’s house as you baked cookies. You could get used to this new life.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 23 - Haunted Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Coming home can cause issues.

Series Masterlist

                          SIX MONTHS LATER

You flipped the knife in your hand as the guy tied to the chair glared at you.

“You know,” you trailed off, “I’ve had a really shitty couple of months, Johnny- can I call you Johnny?”

“No.”

“Rude,” you commented, “Fine. John. I’ve had a really shitty couple of months so you really don’t want to try me right now. Just tell me where I can find your boss.”

“You’ll never find him you stupid bitch.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Since I’m going to kill you in a couple of minutes I feel like I can share some things with you,” you said, “My best friend says I keep everything bottled and I should talk about my feelings.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“See, that’s exactly how I feel!” you pointed at him, “Thank you. I mean, I feel angry at myself. I kind of fucked up with the man I love.”

“Jesus Christ, just kill me already.”

“I’m waiting for a text to do that Johnny,” you pointed out, waving your phone at him. “So, I tricked him and used him and threw him to wolves. And then Accords 2.0 didn’t pass and he has been pardoned once again, and he’s a free man now. I have a strong feeling that he’s not the ‘forgive and forget’ type of guy. You know, assassin to assassin.”

“You’re the chattiest assassin I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you, I’m trying to improve myself,” you said, “I mean what exactly should I do? I don’t even trust my agency at this point, my handler lied to me and I have been at this fucking place for six months now, hunting you down. Well, your boss but…”

“You’ll never find him.”

“We’ll see about that my friend,” you said, “So anyway, like what am I supposed to do? I lost the one guy I actually loved. How do you cope with that? Because drinking doesn’t work, sleeping with others doesn’t work…. Nothing seems to—“ you were cut off when your phone vibrated and you touched the screen to open the text message.

From: Julian

Go for it.

“Wait, no no no, I’ll talk—“

“Kind of too late,” you pointed the gun at him, “Nice to meet you Johnny.”

With that you pulled the trigger, silencer doing its job as there was no loud bang or anything. His body fell back with the impact, and you heaved a sigh.

“Maybe I need a therapist I can’t kill,” you mumbled and walked out of the warehouse to approach the car before opening the door to the passenger seat to get in.

“Is it done?” Julian asked and you nodded, rubbing at your eyes.

“Yep.”

“Are you hungry?”

You made a face, “Just because the General sent you here does not mean we’re going to become buddies.”

“I’m not trying to become buddies with you,” Julian stated, “I just want to eat fries and there’s a two for one deal.”

You eyed him up and down.

“Fine, I could eat fries.” You leaned back in the seat as he started driving, keeping your eyes on the road. Soon enough, you reached the city center and Julian got fries from a food truck, then sat across from you.

“So,” he said, “You do realize this whole thing would’ve been over by now if we actually worked together?”

“I’m not going on the field with you.”

“The General sent me here to help you.”

You dipped the fry into sauce, then popped it into your mouth, “You can help me by pretending you’re not here.”

“Y/N.”

“You know what they say Julian. Fool me once…”

“Don’t tell me you’re still holding that grudge.”

“You mean when you left me behind to die on the last mission we were together?” you asked back, “That grudge?”

“I told you—“

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” you cut him off, “And I work better alone. Who told you we could waste the guy by the way?”

“The General.”

You grabbed the salt shaker to pour some salt on the fries, causing Julian to make a face.

“Are you kidding me? That was salty enough-“

“Why did he not text me?”

“No idea. Maybe he’s avoiding you because he promised you handler and here you are. Field spy.”

Your jaw clenched.

Or maybe he’s avoiding me because he fucking lied to me.

You had to give it to him, it was the perfect plan. The moment he had suspected you were getting too close to Bucky, he had come up with the one thing he knew that would make you switch sides.

And that-

That was below the belt yes, but that was also masterly.

But at the end of the day, you barely had two people to trust in the entire world, and you seriously doubted you could ever forgive the General for what he had done. You knew he held duty above all, above family and surely above you, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

You shook your head at yourself and grabbed another piece of fry.

“So um…” Julian shifted his weight, “Are you okay?”

You shot him a glare, arching a brow, “Peachy.”

“No I mean… About Barnes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This whole Accords 2.0 failure, there’s no way we could go after him again.”

“I don’t want to go after him again.”

“You don’t want revenge?”

That made you straighten up your back and you put the fry down, “And why exactly would I want revenge?”

That made Julian fall silent and you nibbled on your lip.

“What exactly did the General tell you before you came here?”

“That there was a job here.”

“Bullshit,” you replied way too quickly, “Did he send you here to be my babysitter? He thinks I’ll go after Barnes myself is that it? That’s why they sent you here months after I left the country but right after Accords 2.0 didn’t pass.”

Julian licked his lips.

“Listen, the agency wants to keep you safe—“ he started but then his phone beeped. He grabbed it to take aa look at the screen, then cussed under his breath.

“What?”

“Check your texts.”

You touched the screen and frowned as your eyes skimmed the text.

From: General

Time to come home.

“Well,” you muttered, your heart dropping to your stomach, “Shit.”

                                                   ***

Coming back home was harder than ever now. After catching up with Keith and Chloe, you were taken to your new apartment that was given to you by the agency as usual, and for the whole night you couldn’t sleep.

Even if there was no trace of Bucky in your new apartment –in your new life, you still couldn’t shake off this feeling. It was as if the moment you had entered the country, Bucky had entered your life in an instant.

Odds were, you wouldn’t really see him again. After all it was a big city, and Bucky wasn’t exactly the social type.

So your first week back in New York wasn’t exactly terrible. You were still waiting for your orders while getting to know to the city slowly, because after long missions it always took time for you to remember you had a real life there, real memories—

Well, as real as it could be, for a spy.

“Just see it as a vacation,” Chloe had said, “They threw you into another mission as soon as you got out of the country, it’s just a delayed vacation.”

As far as vacations went though, this one just sucked.

Maybe it was because you couldn’t keep away from places you and Bucky had been too, like this coffee place where you had first officially met.

You sipped your coffee, scrolling down on the news website as your eyes skimmed yet another article about Accords and whether you could trust superheroes or not, but you were soon distracted when someone pulled the seat across from you, making you look up from your phone.

And as soon as you did, your heart dropped.

You had to give it to the General, he was manipulative, he was a liar and he had betrayed your trust terribly but the one thing he had done right was training you well. Aside from that one second, you managed to adapt a look of nonchalance on your face, slowly putting your phone down.

“Hello Cap.”

Sam raised his brows and eyed you up and down.

“You’re back?”

You could swear he could hear your heartbeat and you shrugged your shoulders, looking around.

“Yeah,” you said, “Big apple and everything.”

“So much for the small town girl.”

“I have never been a small town girl,” you drawled, “Never been to Oregon either.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

You turned your coffee cup on the table just so you could do something with your hands.

“Why?” he asked after a beat and you shifted your weight despite your whole training of feeling calm and collected, nervousness hitting you out of nowhere.

“You’re a veteran, Wilson,” you managed to say, “You don’t need me to tell you how the chain of command works. Army doesn’t care how we feel about orders.”

“I’m very familiar with how chain of command works,” he pointed out, “But you’re not a soldier, Y/N. You’re a spy.”

“That makes it even worse,” you stated, “I know it sounds like an excuse, but… you don’t know how my agency works. I don’t get to say no to orders, and I sure as hell don’t get to blow my own cover.”

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”

Jesus Christ, Wilson was really good at this observation thing.

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” you said, “I’m no use to anyone if I develop a conscience.”

“But you did,” he insisted, “Why else would you come to help us? Why else would you warn him beforehand?”

“He told you about that?”

He shot you a look, “What do you think, Y/N?”

You scoffed a laughter. “I was feeling generous,” you said, “No other reason.”

He kept his gaze on you for a couple of seconds, as if trying to see whether you would cave before he took a deep breath.

“You know he was going to propose, right?”

That-

That was just too much. You could feel your jaw hanging as you stared at him in complete silence, his words echoing in your ears.

“No,” you said after a moment, then shook your head fervently, your nose in the air, “No you’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Sam said, “Apparently he was looking for this… house painted in white with—a red door or something.”

Don’t cry.

Do not fucking cry.

Spies don’t cry over heartbreak.

You clenched your jaw and blinked back the tears, straightening your back.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t get to, then.”

“Y/N, he loved you.”

“No Sam, he loved someone who doesn’t exist,” you replied, “Sweet small town girl with sundresses and smiles and some house in the suburbs with kids and all that shit. Girls like me don’t get that ending, I have way too much blood on my hands.”

He pressed his lips together and you cleared your throat.

“How much does he hate me?”

“Why do you think he hates you?”

“Assassins aren’t good at forgiving,” you said, “I would know, we don’t have that talent.”

“That’s not a talent, that’s a choice.”

“It really isn’t,” you muttered, “So?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

You let out a bitter laugh, “Yeah no. Actions have consequences and I’d rather not cross paths with the deadliest assassin in the world after double crossing him.”

“But you want him to forgive you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Intuition,” he said and pushed his chair back to stand up.

“He didn’t kill your father, Y/N.”

You heaved a sigh.

“I know,” you said, “Trust me, I would’ve walked away so much easier if he had.”

“Enjoy your coffee,” he said and walked out of the coffee house. You threw your head back, closing your eyes.

“Yep. I shouldn’t have come back.”

                                                  ***

“I never thought I’d say this, but I kind of hate that we’re not living so close anymore,” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear and opened the door to your apartment as Keith chuckled.

“I knew you’d miss me.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re a softie deep inside. Very very deep inside.”

“If you repeat that in front of anyone I swear to God…” you muttered and he groaned.

“Have I told you they’re putting me in the same team as Julian?”

“You guys have a new mission?”

“Not a long one probably.”

“Why the fuck am I—“

“Because you’re on a vacation,” he cut you off, “And also they’re probably going to make you a handler, that’s worth waiting for.”

“That or….”

“We’re not talking about that on the phone,” Keith said quickly, “Amateur.”

“Careful there, I’ll outrank you soon enough,” you said, walking to the bathroom to wash your hands. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright, see you later!” he said and hung up. You put your phone into your pocket, then washed your hands and made your way to the kitchen.

It was only when you put the wine bottle back into the fridge that you noticed something was off. Your body moved on its own accord, before you knew it you had already grabbed the knife in your boots and threw it to the figure in the dark corner of the room but he easily caught it, metal hitting what sounded like another kind of metal before he stepped out of the corner. Your breath caught in your throat, and for the first time in your life you froze, all the training leaving your mind.

You were supposed to be looking for a weapon, any kind of weapon but somehow, your body refused to move.

Bucky turned your knife in his hands, his gaze pinning you to your spot before he tilted his head.

“Hi honey,” he said, his voice way too cold. “I’m home.”

Chapter 24

[mrs-hollandstan]

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [epilogue]

Warnings: sexual comments, pregnancy and children, marriage and weddings, just cuteness, mentions of IVF, mentions of parental issues, language, mentions of marital issues, mentions of fuckboy!Tommo

Word Count: 7,996

Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you, for those that have stuck with me through all of this. It's been a journey and I'm so grateful for those that stayed for the whole thing. This series has been such an important part of my life and writing and I don't know how I'll function without it, but I'm grateful to have finished it and gotten it out there for others to enjoy. 💖

Series Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

                                          Welcome to Our Forever

                                               Thomas & Y/F/N 

                                                August 5, 2023 

White roses and eucalyptus line the wooden board announcing your wedding to the man of your dreams. Maybe not the best decision to have a summer wedding, but Harrison and Ivey had only wed some three months before, and you refused to take away her shine. As it was, when she sat beside you in her auburn colored dress to have her hair and makeup done, she was glowing, reminiscing on her big day with a brand new wedding band to go with her engagement/wedding ring, and a new ID showcasing the Ivey Eleanor Osterfield namesake. 

It wasn't necessarily the first time you four girls had been together since graduation, but the time that you spent together had dwindled since going out into the real world. Phoebe was making bank as an emergency room nurse at UW Emergency just off campus and she and Keaton had started living together in University District. Cole had moved Scarlett into his apartment once Keaton had moved out and she's been working as a financial analyst the past two years. He'd mentioned proposing to her, but hadn't officially done so yet. Ivey and Harrison were living in an apartment not far from you and Tom, Harrison working at the Seattle Art Museum, and not too far from him, Ivey was working as an editor in downtown Seattle. Still, after two years, the four of you were meeting up for date night often, you and Ivey mostly discussing wedding plans and crazy stories from your day, while the boys talked sports and alcohol. 

Since graduation, you and Tom had adopted a little gray pitbull from a local shelter, similar to Tessa, whom you named Rosir. With the help of your dad and the first few paychecks from your therapy office, you were able to purchase a car, a Subaru Crosstrek, which you and Tom used for weekend getaways and vacations. He'd even taken the time to revisit the same house he and the group stayed in in Oregon two springs ago with you. 

"You remember how you told me you wanted something like Ivey and Harrison that night shit went to hell?" He had asked you as you lay in bed one night, bare chests pressed together and Rosie laying just off to your side on the floor, squeaking her toy. You had hummed and nodded, leaning on his chest, 

"I regret that." 

"Don't say that. I just hope that it's been better than what they have. I've tried to make you happy." You smiled up at him and nodded, 

"I've never been happier than I am now." You had reassured him. He'd smiled and leaned in to kiss you. You'd discussed the shitshow that was the last two years of your relationship and how now, you couldn't see being with anyone else and you were convinced that your kids wouldn't have what you did, with a fractured family. Most of Tom's wounds had healed and he was focused on you, his career path, and your future. You were putting everything that had happened in the past behind you for the better now, focusing on your wedding, your marriage, the future. 

"You nervous?" Phoebe asks as an artist drags a brush with eyeshadow across her lids. You shrug as you're drawn from your haze, 

"Less nervous about marrying him than I am about graduation." You admit. She smiles, 

"I'm in love with you two. He's fucking lucky to have you." She murmurs, closing her eyes again. Ivey sighs, 

"I think you've beaten me out at being the most gorgeous on your wedding day." 

"No, don't say that. You were absolutely stunning." 

"Yeah, but are you seeing yourself? Tom is going to lose his shit." She explains. You smile, staring at yourself in the mirror as your makeup artist brushes blush along your cheeks. You giggle, 

"Okay, fine, I do look hot." You murmur. The three of you laugh along before Scarlett sighs and moves into the room, 

"Your dad and Cole are fighting again." You roll your eyes, 

"I almost just wish they hadn't tried to reconcile." You tell her. She smiles, 

"I mean... at least they're trying for you and all of our future kids." She reasons. You sigh, 

"Yeah, I guess." She sits behind the three of you, waiting until you're all finished before she helps you slide into the a-line dress you'd chosen, the girls gasping, 

"Oh Y/N, you look gorgeous." Ivey says. Phoebe and Scarlett agree and when Nikki enters the room, she gasps and covers her mouth, tears springing into her eyes, 

"Oh Y/N darling..." She mumbles. You smile, taking her hands when she approaches, 

"Do you think he'll like it?" You ask her about her son. She nods, sniffling softly, 

"Oh I think you could wear a burlap bag and he'd think you were exquisite, but this..." She nods, "he'll absolutely love you in this." She assures. You smile, 

"Great. You look amazing yourself." You tell her, looking her over in her maroon colored mother-in-law dress, 

"Well thank you sweetheart." She murmurs, a dusting of red coating her cheeks. She clears her throat, 

"I uhm, I have something for you." She says. It's only then that you notice the worn black box in her hands. You follow her to the small couch, sitting just beside her before she opens the box and reveals an old pearl necklace, "My grandmother got this as a gift and it's been passed down through our family. My mother wore it on her wedding day, I wore it on my wedding day. If you'd like... I want you to have it, wear it today and any day in the future as my first daughter-in-law." She tells you. You stare at it, mouth agape, 

"Oh gosh... Nikki... are you sure?" She nods immediately, 

"Of course. They're to be passed down. Hopefully you get a daughter to do the same to and the tradition can continue in our family." She tells you. You dab at your eyes with a tissue, 

"Thank you so much. It's beautiful." You tell her, moving forward to hug her. She hugs you back, kissing your cheek softly. She helps you latch it around your neck and by then, the girls are completely ready, 

"It's time Y/N/N." Ivey tells you with a cock of her head. You take a deep breath, 

"Gosh... really?" She shoots you a sympathetic smile and nods, 

"Fortunately." She tells you. You allow Nikki to fasten your veil into your hair and hand you your bouquet, the girls each collecting theirs before you stand before the full length mirror, staring at yourself. You take a deep breath, 

"The next time I step foot into this room, I will be Mrs. Tom Holland." You murmur more to yourself more than anyone. You watch Ivey smile in the mirror before you turn to them and nod, 

"Okay, I think I'm ready." You tell them. They each nod before leading you from the room, walking the short distance to where the boys are waiting at the end of the hall. Tom had more groomsmen than you had bridesmaids, but you didn't really care. Three of his seven groomsmen were walking alone, his brothers leading the pack down the aisle together. You honestly thought it was cute. Cole maneuvered his way over to you to kiss your cheek as your father appeared, 

"You look beautiful." He tells you. You smile, glancing up at your dad, 

"Thanks Cole." 

"You know mom would be more than proud of you." He reminds you. You nod, indicating to the veil, 

"And she's with me." When your dad had offered up the diamond encrusted lacy material your mother had bought for her own special day, you sobbed and agreed without a second thought. It was such a simple yet meaningful gesture, especially coming from your dad and you haven't thought twice about it since. Cole's eyes are glistening as he nods and Scarlett slips her hand in his bicep. 

Sam, Harry, and Paddy are the first down the aisle together, Tom's smile wide when he sees them. Ivey and Harrison are the first couple down the aisle with her as your matron of honor. Scarlett and Cole are next with her being your maid of honor, but you told Phoebe she was also your maid of honor. You weren't letting her feel left out in this situation. Gil was last down the aisle, helping your flower girl and ring bearer, both younger cousins of yours, down to their respective sides. You take a deep breath as you watch Tom stand at the head of the aisle, nervously swaying side to side, hands clasped in front of him. Your father flexes his bicep to imitate a squeeze, 

"Don't pass out on me. At least let me get you to him." He jokes. You smile, 

"Course not. But... this is the last time your little girl will be a Y/L/N." You tell him. He hums, glancing down at you when you look up, 

"You'll always be a Y/L/N, but I'm okay with you being a Holland. Tom is a good man." He reminds you. You smile and nod, 

"I agree." You murmur before "Canon In D" starts, giving you your cue. You take another deep breath before your father starts the walk, and all of your guests stand. Your dad reaches out and pats your hand as you walk out into the sunlight, your videographer (thank you dad) crouching beside your fiancè to capture his reaction which is quite honestly, the sweetest, most heart touching thing you've ever seen. He reaches up to brush his tears away, pivoting from foot to foot quicker as he takes a deep breath and blinks away the flood of tears that threaten to spill. You smile up at him, walking steadily with your father until you're standing just before him. He takes a deep breath as your minister asks who gives you away. Your father replies and hands you to Tom who helps you onto the small pedestal across from him. He sniffles softly, staring down at you with so much love in his eyes. 

The ceremony progresses quickly and before you know it, you're announced as Mrs. Tom Holland. Tom smiles wide before he's wrapping an arm around your waist, the other curled up your back as he dips you, sealing your deal with a final kiss. You hold him to you, staring up into his eyes when he stands you straight before he pivots on his feet, smile as wide as it can get as you're announced as husband and wife. He gives your hand a squeeze and waves it in the air as your guests cheer and clap. 

You scurry off, holding onto Tom as he kisses you over and over again and continuously tells you how beautiful you look while your wedding party makes their way back down the aisle, your bridesmaids and his groomsmen all crowding around you with congratulations thrown your way. You flaunt the ring, and before the guests pour from your venue and towards the large brick building for the reception, Tom's family and your dad and Heidi follow your wedding party to the designated picture area. 

The pictures, you can tell, are going to be absolutely gorgeous. Harry and Nikki were both more than happy to be the wedding photographers, and absolutely denied being paid for the work. But you'd seen sneak peeks of some of the shots they'd snapped of your wedding party and you were in love. You'd finally sobbed, and Tom had let you when Nikki flashed you a photo of yours and Tom's foreheads pressed together, his hand brushing along your cheek, wedding band shown off blatantly. It hadn't hit you, how serious getting married was and now it was. 

You'd been the last to depart the area where your professional photos were taken, Nikki and Harry leaving you for a private moment to yourselves, the first in nearly two days since the boys stole him and the girls had stolen you. You'd stood in silence for a moment, admiring the scenery of the woods around you before he'd untucked a hand from his pocket and reached out for yours. You'd threaded your fingers together, 

"Has this been the wedding of your dreams so far?" He asks softly. You smile, nodding, 

"Since I was a little girl I dreamed of marrying a prince. Now I have him, and this," You gesture around you, "This is more than I could ever ask for. It's been beautiful so far and merging our families has been a dream." You tell him, taking a step closer to him. His smile widens, 

"Good." He murmurs. Standing on your toes, you lean in and kiss him. He hums, 

"Can't believe I married the girl of my dreams." He murmurs. You giggle, 

"It is all very surreal. All of the times we talked about marriage and kids and now we're here, doing it." 

"Hell yeah, I don't fuck around." He jokes. You roll your eyes, 

"But... now that we have a moment... what do you think of the dress? Your mom said I could wear a bag and you'd still think I look stunning." 

"Oh definitely, but... yes... this is absolutely gorgeous. You look stunning darling. More so than ever." He tells you, holding you at arms length to look you over. You twirl for him, the bodice of your dress flourishing around you and Tom smiles, 

"So beautiful." Dragging you back in, he leans in to kiss you, arms bound around your waist, your hands rested on his shoulders, smoothing down them. He hums, 

"We should sneak off and have married sex now." You giggle, tipping your head back which draws him in to trailing kisses down your throat, 

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try and do a quickie in this dress. You'll get lost in it." You tell him. He chuckles, 

"I believe you. You've got a lot of tulle goin on here." Nodding, your rest your hands atop his shoulders, staring up at him, 

"You've made me so happy the past four years... I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." You tell him. He smiles, 

"The feeling is so fucking mutual." He tells you, hands curled around your back. He presses his forehead to yours and sighs, 

"I promise to make you happy every day of my life. You mean the world to me." He tells you. You sway him softly, holding his waist, 

"I promise to do the same." 

"And after tonight, we'll go to Fiji and have a good time, just the two of us, and then we'll come back and try for a baby." He starts. You giggle again, 

"You have our whole lives planned out then huh?" You ask. He nods, 

"Definitely. Won't be long now before we're house hunting and moving a sweet little babe in." He murmurs in your ear. You sigh, 

"Is it bad that I kinda wanna stay in the apartment for a little while after having a baby?" You ask. His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head, 

"No, not really. We... did talk about turning that spare into a nursery for her. We could go through with it." 

"And we're still stuck on them being a her huh? You do know I'll kill you if we have a boy first and you even think about being disappointed." You tell him. He hums, eyebrows knitting together again, 

"No, of course not, I would never. Any baby that comes from you is loved by me darling. You don't have to worry about it." He confirms. You nod, letting the silence permeate between you for a moment before you sigh, 

"We should probably be heading back. No one can do anything without us." You tell him. He chews the inside of his lip for a moment before sighing himself and nodding, 

"Yeah... let's go get a beer." Smiling, you hold your hand out for his again, lacing your fingers with his. He smiles as the prongs of your ring scrape against the pad of his finger and you give a tug of his hand to lead him up the trodden path towards your reception. Once on the concrete, leading up to the building, Tom squeezes your hand, glancing at the sign announcing you as husband and wife, 

"I cannot believe I am Mrs. Thomas Stanley Holland." You say. He chuckles again, 

"Sounds so fucking amazing." He tells you. You smile, 

"It does. I get to change my nameplate at work. Mrs. Y/N Holland. So exciting." He smiles before you round a corner and your wedding party is there, beers in hand and cheering directed your way. Tom waves his hand, cheeks flushing red and chuckles leaving his lips, 

"Stop, stop-" 

"You're a married man now Tommo!" Haz starts, 

"Yeah, what happened to the forever bachelor thing? Who are you and what have you done with our Tom?" Gil jokes. Tom rolls his eyes, 

"A beautiful girl crashed the party and roped my ass in." He admits. You smile and accept a beer from Cole, another handed to Tom, 

"Well congrats. You two make a beautiful couple. And... now you're my brother." He tells Tom, dragging him in for a hug. You smile, watching your husband and brother hug before Cole turns to you, 

"And you look beautiful Y/N/N. Mom is so so so fucking proud of you. I just know it." He tells you again. He leans in and kisses your cheek. Ivey pops up from inside the venue, 

"Alright guys. We're headed inside. Back into formation." You smile, looping your arm through Tom's. You'd chosen to have your DJ announce your wedding party, the group dancing in and once you make your way inside, it leads into your first dance. The other Holland boys lead, both sides of the families laughing at their antics. Ivey and Harrison follow, then Scarlett and Cole, and Keaton and Phoebe, finishing with Gil. Tom squeezes your hand in his arm as the DJ speaks again, 

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Holland!" He cheers, the roaring from your guests loud as Tom escorts you in the door, twirling you and showing you off to your family. Your cheeks hurt from the smile you carry and Tom let's out an airy laugh as you hand your bouquet off to Ivey and he wraps you in his arms, holding your body close as the first notes of your first dance song play through the speakers, all eyes on you. But none of it matters. All that matters are the chocolate colored eyes you know every inch of. The ones you've come to love and the ones you get to stare into for the rest of your life. He's yours, and you're his, and this is what forever feels like. 

                                                          --- 

You giggle and cling to Tom as he carries you across the threshold of your suite. He gently sets you on the bed, watching you lay out beneath him, 

"So stunning." He murmurs. You roll your eyes and sit up a little to pull your veil off, 

"I see the cheesiness hasn't dissipated." 

"Well no. It'll only get worse from here. Instead of taking it as my girlfriend or fiancèe, you're taking it as my wife. Now you for sure aren't going anywhere. It's so much worse." He tells you. You giggle, kicking your heels off. He sighs, raking a hand through his hair, 

"Is it bad if I say I'm glad that part is over?" He asks with a cock of his head. You shake your own head, 

"No... it's stressful. Especially for me when there was so much for me to trip over." You tell him. He hums, 

"You did great. You looked amazing all night and you were such the little party host." 

"I'm the bride, I have to be." He sits on the bed beside you, clearing his throat, 

"Yeah, I guess." Sighing, you roll so your body is pressed into his side. He leans back on the bed on his elbow, loosening his tie, 

"It was a pretty good night. You did good on the planning love." He chides. You smile, 

"Thanks babe. I put my heart, soul, and money into this perfect day." He nods, raising his eyebrows, 

"That's for damn sure." He murmurs. You giggle, 

"I couldn't imagine any other wedding being more perfect than ours. It was really fucking beautiful." 

"To be fair, your dad paid for a lot and my parents contributed too." He reasons with a shrug, staring up at the ceiling when he moves to lay back on the bed fully. You smile, leaning in on his chest. He sighs, 

"I loved every minute of it." 

"That's all that matters. You only get one wedding and it should be perfect." 

"It was. I love you." He smiles and leans up to kiss you, 

"Love you too darling." You sit in silence for a moment before you sit up and take his hand, 

"Unzip me, I have a surprise for you." You tell him. He hums, sliding the zipper down your back and moving to lean on his elbows again as he watches you slip from the wedding dress, revealing a beautiful set of ivory colored lingerie, an intricate piece that draws Tom's eyebrows up again, 

"Well that's one hell of a surprise." 

"I had every intention of wearing blue but this is a wedding night set and I couldn't pass it up." 

"Yeah, no, you'll have all kinds of opportunities to test out different lingerie. Heaven forbid you pass up this opportunity for wedding night lingerie." He murmurs. You smile, stepping from the puddle of tulle, lace, and satin at your feet and leaning in on his knees, 

"So I assume you like it." You coo. He snorts, 

"When have I ever not liked lingerie on this sweet little body?" He asks. You giggle, 

"Never." 

"Exactly." Moving his hands onto your hips, he drags you into his lap, your lips covering his. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands up your back. Your fingers move down to unbutton his shirt. You smooth over his stomach, his hands traveling down to hold onto your hips, 

"Shall we try and figure out what's so different about married sex?" You ask him. He smiles, pulling back to look into your eyes, 

"I think that'd be quite great actually." He murmurs. You smile down at him, 

"Just think... you don't have to worry about getting me pregnant now because we're already married." He chuckles, watching you reach behind you and unclip your bra, tossing it aside. He licks his lips, 

"I'd love to know what these'll look like when you end up pregnant." He murmurs, moving to massage your breasts into his hands. You tip your head back, holding his shoulders. You slide your hands beneath his button up brushing it from his shoulders. He sighs, 

"So perfect." 

"So yours." You murmur. He chuckles, 

"You're damn right." You giggle before he's leaning back, pulling you with him. You lean on the bed over his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him, 

"I love you husband." He smiles wide, 

"I love you, wife. More than you'll ever know." You lean back in to kiss his throat, his hands skirting down to your hips until the cold metal of his wedding ring is pressing into your lower back. 

The next night, after landing in Fiji and checking into your bungalow, Tom slides down into the sand beside you. He sighs, squinting in the setting sun and holding a beer out to you. You take it, thanking him softly and sipping from it. He does the same as you look him over. He looks calm for the first time in months. His hair is flat and he's wearing a tee and a pair of cotton shorts, no shoes on. You smile when he looks at you and his eyebrows furrow, 

"What?" He asks through a laugh. You shake your head, 

"Nothing, I just love you. You look good right now." You move to lay your head over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, laying his head over yours and reaching out to squeeze your knee, 

"Happy first night of forever." He mumbles. You squeeze his body against yours, 

"So far, so good." You tell him. He hums, 

"Can't go wrong with me." Giggling, you sip from your beer again, leaning your arm on his knee, 

"I will admit, seeing "Mr. and Mrs. Holland" on the door was a really surreal thing for me." You tell him. He smiles, moving his hand up into the light to look at the ring on his finger, 

"I've always been called Mr. Holland in a professional sense but... hearing Mrs. Holland and knowing that it's in reference to my wife and that you're finally, fully mine is like... insane." He admits in return. You nod, 

"I agree." You murmur. Nudging the neckline of his top down, you brush a finger across the hickey you'd left the night before. He smiles, 

"The markings of a spoiled little wife." 

"I really don't think I'll ever be over the whole wife thing. Like... hearing you say it blows my mind. I definitely thought I'd be your girlfriend for the rest of my life and you'd never be ready to marry me." 

"I was ready to marry you the second you came back from New York after Spring Break." 

"Liar." 

"I did. I never wanted to let you go again. I had fucked up and never wanted to risk losing you again." He explains. You smile, looping your arms under his and leaning your head on his shoulder, 

"That's truly adorable. You've still had your moments but... I have no doubt that all the growth you've done since that whole mess has helped you. Really." He nods, 

"I feel a lot better, that's for sure." He tells you, sighing. You hum, 

"I'm glad. You know... we both have to be in a good mindset to have a baby." 

"Speaking of, you are okay with having a baby like... soonish right?" He asks. You shrug, 

"Yeah, sure, why not?" 

"I just obviously wanna make sure you're comfortable and we're on the same page." He tells you as you move to lounge between his legs. You scoff, 

"Bitch I just married you. There isn't a thing you could do to make me uncomfortable. We're one now." He chuckles, laying his hands over your stomach, 

"But you would tell me if something is out of your comfort zone right?" He asks. You nod, eyebrows knitting together, 

"Course." 

"Good." Leaning your head back against his chest, you sigh, closing your eyes. He presses his lips to your temple and leaves them there, breathing you in. The setting sun provides a nice warmth, 

"I say we just never go back to America. We just run away and become permanent travelers." Tom chuckles, 

"And abandon my very expensive diploma, I think that's a dumb idea love." He tells you. You hum, 

"You could very well get a big break in Europe without the degree." You reason. He hums, 

"That'd be great to take you back to my home." 

"Well since we'll be traveling, you very well could give me a better tour of your little hometown." You confirm. He nods, 

"That sounds really good." A silence settles over you, the sound of the waves crashing being the only noise around. He reaches up and rubs over your shoulders, 

"I'm glad we're here." 

"Me too." You tell him quickly. He smiles, 

"I'm really glad you agreed to marry me." He says. You giggle, 

"Me too." His smile widens. He leans in and kisses you softly when you rise to your knees and turn to face him, 

"I think we should revisit the newlywed sex." He implies with a raise of his eyebrow. You hum, 

"Me too. Definitely." He chuckles softly before he's standing and taking your hands, leading you back through the sand to your bungalow, pushing you on the bed softly once he slides the door closed. 

                                                          --- 

                                           *Seven Years Later*

"Mia darling, please don't do that." Tom calls to your oldest child, hoisting Harper, your current youngest into his lap with her holding his fingers and climbing his chair. He focuses on the two year old, her hair falling down her back and her legs tangled up in her dress. He rubs her back once she snuggles into him, kissing her forehead. 

Not long after your wedding, you were pregnant with Mia. The second Tom found out she was a girl, he couldn't drop the smile, convinced that the talk of having a girl first all throughout college was just divine intervention. Seeing your husband as a father that first time was unlike anything else. He couldn't put his baby girl down. You were his girl, and he followed you around like a lost puppy, but the second you gave birth to little Mia Faye, he was hooked. And the process continued with your first son three years later, Wyatt James was held in Mia's lap, who was always in Tom's lap. And then again with his second baby girl, Harper Monroe. And now here you are, pregnant with your final baby, another sweet boy who Tom talks to daily, first thing in the morning before he wakes your three older kiddos to bring to bed and see you and at night, right before you go to bed, wishing your little wiggly bean goodnight. He already has a name, Oliver Ethan, and you're excited to have a complete family, four kids to grow up together and travel with, something you and Tom have loved doing since being out of college. 

Cole sighs as he sits beside Keaton who holds his and Phoebe's daughter, Emma's tiny purse, glancing up at his ex-roommate, 

"'S the matter? Being the father of the birthday boy is tiring?" He teases. Cole rolls his eyes, 

"Not only that, but when his papa decides it's time to spoil him and he wonders why mommy and daddy don't do the same, it can get interesting." Cole explains. You smile, rubbing the baby bump over your dress. Tom watches you, 

"I'm just glad that he has a papa. You and dad have gotten along pretty well since he's moved out here." You tell him, reaching up to stroke through Tom's hair to soothe you both. Cole crosses his arms watching his daughter, Daisy, follow Scarlett around, Logan and Ashton, Ivey and Harrison's older boys by her side like they always are when the group is together, 

"I guess so, yeah, it's been... weird. He avoids bringing up mom which makes it awkward but... he's a good enough grandfather. The kids like him and if Scarlett needs help and I'm not available, he's been there." He explains. You nod, leaning into Tom's side. Harper twirls your hair around her finger sleepily, Tom leaning in to kiss her pudgy cheek, 

"Regardless, you guys are talking and actually acting like father and son. Now we have like an actual family again." He nods, 

"Yeah..." Keaton yawns, 

"And what about you Ke? Now that dad's back here and starting that branch of his company here and you're working for him again, how's it been?" He glances up as Phoebe slides into the chair beside him, 

"Yeah, it's good. Back to better payment, being the assistant. It's pretty nice." 

"And no such luck with the baby making?" You ask. He smiles, looking to Phoebe, 

"We're getting there. It's been a hard process but... IVF has been going pretty well." 

"I'm trying to calm the fuck down." Phoebe starts, dragging her fingers through her hair, "I know that going through all of this, the IVF'll fail and then I'll get pregnant naturally." She says with a roll of her eyes. Keaton smiles, 

"The embryo we transfer next month is a girl. Our little Sophia so... hopefully. Fingers crossed." He says. You smile and nod, 

"All our fingers are crossed." You tell them. Keaton smiles, glancing up as Wyatt runs up to you, 

"Mommy..." 

"Yes my love?" You ask of him as he leans in on your legs, 

"Can I go with Mason to his room to see his toys?" He asks you. You brush his hair from his eyes, 

"Did you ask Auntie Scarlett or Uncle Cole if you could?" You ask him. He glances around, 

"Mason asked auntie." 

"If she tells him yes, you can go with him but- hey, Wyatt... but if you go in his room, you need to be careful and don't do anything bad okay? Pick up after yourself like we tell you to do at home." You tell him. He nods before running off to find his cousin. Tom is smiling when you look to him again, 

"What?" You ask. He shakes his head, 

"You're just a really great mum is all." He mumbles, helping Harper slide from his lap again, "Where are you headed love?" He asks, but she ignores him and runs off towards the jumper. You giggle at the pout on his lips, glancing up when Ivey sighs behind you. Her and Harrison slide in between you and Keaton and Phoebe, the little green blanket she left with half an hour ago to quiet the crying cradled in her arms again, 

"He okay?" You ask. She nods and rolls her eyes, 

"He's had a little bit of colic so... he's just cranky but... he's fed and asleep. He should be good for a little while now. Logan and Ashton been good?" 

"Yup, only pulled Daisy's pigtails once." You joke. She huffs, 

"I believe you. Ashton, if you don't tend to him in time, pulls your hair to get up on your chair or whatever he wants. I swear... sometimes if Harrison doesn't collect them while I'm feeding or something, he's sleeping on the couch." Harrison snorts, 

"Yeah, we've had to take up stock in ice cream to keep the boys away from mum." He murmurs. You giggle, watching Ivey roll her eyes before she reaches an arm out and rubs over your belly, 

"How's this little one? You're about in your eighth month huh?" She poses. You nod, pressing a hand to the base of your belly, 

"Yeah... he's doing good. He was super rambunctious last night. We were up all night last night watching him swim and kick. He's gonna be our biggest baby I think." You tell her. You carry a huge smile and taking a glance at Tom, you see he does too. He's so proud of this family you've created. He loves you and all three, almost four kids you have, 

"And Rosie is back to being her protective little self with new little man?" Harrison asks. You nod, 

"Soooooo much. She's normally with the kids but if I sit down, she's right in my lap, head laid over the bump." You tell him. He smiles, 

"She's been pretty great eh?" 

"Oh and her and Tessa get along so damn well when my parents bring Tess down." Tom pitches in. You smile, 

"They've both been great. We were blessed in a lot of ways." 

"That is so good. She's been such a great girl for you." 

"She really has, and Y/N never had animals growing up so she's been a great little companion for Y/N's first time." Tom explains. Ivey nods, glancing up at you, 

"And she's grown up with the kids technically." You pose. Ivey smiles, 

"That Christmas card... so damn cute. You guys with the matching kids and Rose. I can't believe how tall Wyatt is getting. I bet he'll be taller than Tom before we know it." She winks as Tom rolls his eyes, 

"Ha ha. Very funny." She smiles, 

"You know I'm kidding. He's so cute though. All those freckles. He looks just like you Tommy." 

"Well he's lucky then." Your husband murmurs, smiling when you swat at him. He leans over and kisses your cheek, 

"He's hooked on his mumma though. Doesn't ask me for shit. Goes straight to her." 

"Well you've got two baby girls that go to you. So... I'll keep him." You defend. Tom chuckles 

"Who is that? Is that Auntie Y/N/N?" You glance up just in time to see a tan little boy move into your line of sight, giggling. You smile up at him, 

"My little Hunter!" Gil chuckles as you take his little boy, laying him in your lap to tickle him. Tom laughs along as the little boy squeals and Gil leans in to kiss your cheek and then Ivey's, 

"Bout time you showed." 

"Mmm, Minah kept changing his outfit." He mumbles. You hug Hunter into you, smiling as Tom ruffles his hair, 

"Why didn't she come?" Harrison asks. Gil rolls his eyes, 

"Uhm, her mom's in town. But... I don't think she would've come anyways." He tells him. Ivey cocks her head sympathetically, 

"Still having problems?" 

"Yes, and she wants another baby like that'll magically save our relationship." He remarks. You smile up at him, 

"Well I dunno about you but I think this little one is great." You tease, tickling Hunter again. Gil's smile returns when Hunter giggles, 

"He's the only thing that keeps me sane." He tells you. Tom nods, 

"That's how it works." Reaching out again, Tom brushes long strands of hair from Hunter's eyes, 

"I think Wyatt and Mason went to Mason's room. You wanna go see?" You ask him. He nods, squirming from your arms and running off. Scarlett catches him in the doorway, standing on her toes and pressing a hand to his head. She smiles before walking to the table you all sit at, 

"Are we having fun? I see there's only one kiddo here right now. Hi sweet boy." 

"He's not so sweet right now." Ivey mumbles as Scarlett leans over her shoulder and coos into the blanket in her lap. Surprisingly, the little one smiles a toothless smile up at his aunt, the smile growing wider when she reaches down and pokes his nose, 

"Not feelin good baby?" Ivey shakes her head, 

"Colic still." 

"The gripe water didn't work?" Scarlett asks, 

"Very briefly." Ivey confirms. Scarlett clicks her tongue, 

"Damn. Poor thing." Ivey nods, rocking the bundle. When both girls look up, they find you smiling at them. Ivey giggles, 

"What?" You shake your head, blinking tears away, 

"Nothing... just wondering how we got here. What happened to the girls I was introduced to eleven or so years ago? We were so young and carefree and look at us now. We're all moms. We're all wives and killing it all." Tom hums, reaching out to brush the stray tear that falls away. Ivey clicks her tongue, blinking rapidly, 

"Oh babes. You pregnant and me coming down from postpartum doesn't help this shit." She moves in, laying her head over your shoulder. Scarlett whines before she's brushing Tom aside and wrapping her arms around you and Ivey. Phoebe's heeled boots click as she rushes in to join the group hug, Owen, in Ivey's arms cooing up at her too. She smiles, 

"I know I was quite the party girl but... these little ones are the best things we could ever do. Ten... almost eleven, twelve when I get a clear head, these are our greatest accomplishments." She tells the three of you. You nod, pressing her hand over your belly, 

"Definitely." Your baby boy kicks out against her hand in agreement, making the four of you giggle. Tom smiles too, watching you and the girls hug before you part and you take his hand, squeezing and pressing it to your belly. He hums as he rubs the bump, 

"He's gonna be a rambunctious little thing. Reckon we'll be exhausted after chasing just him around." He says, scooting closer to you. You smile, reaching up to drape your arm over the back of his chair, trailing up his back, 

"Well you're the one that had the years of experience of chasing girls around so I think you're suited for the job daddy." His smile widens, 

"Please never mention that in front of the kids. I don't need my little girls knowing and my little boys thinking it's okay that their dad was a womanizer in this very gender equalizing, accepting time." He murmurs. Leaning into him, you kiss his cheek, 

"I promise not to." 

"Thank you." Scarlett, who had previously walked away, starts back towards you, wide smile on her face, 

"I have another tiny slice of cake. I know you and baby boy want it Y/N." You gasp, holding your hands out, 

"Oh my God yes, you're a lifesaver!" You squeal. Tom watches, chuckling softly as you snatch the thin slice of chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream frosting from your sister-in-law. You offer some to him, but he shakes his head. He glances up at the bouncy house, clearing his throat after a moment, 

"Uh oh. The sugar monster's coming. You made a grave mistake accepting cake behind her back like that." You glance up, watching Harper trot towards you, climbing back into her father's lap. He holds her steady moving his legs closer to you to allow her to chomp the piece of cake from your fork. He tucks hair behind her ear, 

"That's good huh lovey? You are never getting to bed tonight little one." You giggle, watching a sparkle flash through Harper's vibrant brown eyes, 

"But with her daddy's puppy dog eyes, no one can resist her." You reason. He nods and leans in to kiss her cheek, 

"Well that's for sure." He murmurs. Once you've finished the cake, Tom holds Harper close, the little one allowing her daddy to love on her. He glances at you and raises an eyebrow and you know exactly what he's asking. The second she saw the cookies upon entrance, it's all she was stuck on for a while. She's such a daddy's girl because he spoils her and you just know he's asking if he can give her a cookie because she's been so good with no tantrums. You chew the inside of your lip, 

"Just one." 

"That's all I'm asking for anyways." He confirms. You nod, 

"Fine then. Nothing more though." He nods, pulling her from his shoulder, 

"Harp, I have a surprise for you, you wanna know what it is?" He asks her. She nods, standing on his thighs, holding onto his hands. He smiles, "You want a cookie? I know you wanted one earlier." Her eyes light up and she nods, bouncing on his legs gently. He chuckles, 

"Alright sweet girl, let's get you one then, yeah?" She nods again, clinging to him as he stands and your heart flutters. To believe that the same man that fought you on a relationship and constantly pushed you away, is now holding your two year old daughter to his hip at a kid's birthday party is beyond imagination, and it is the most beautiful thing ever. 

                                                         --- 

You smile as Tom grabs your wrist, pulling you flush to his body, 

"I know you're exhausted love, and I'll go get you some ice cream after the kids are in bed but... I missed seeing you with all of our friends. You looked stunning all glowing and pregnant out there." He tells you, pressing a hand to your belly. You smile, reaching up to stroke his cheek, 

"You're the sweetest." His smile widens before he leans down to kiss you, 

"I've spent a long ass time loving you and it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Especially when you're pregnant with my baby. You and those three... almost four in there, I'd kill for." He reminds you. You sigh, 

"I really lucked out in the husband department then huh?" You ask. He chuckles softly, 

"Guess so, yeah." Popping open the passenger side door, Tom waits until you climb inside to close you in. He climbs in beside you quickly, turning the car on before Mia speaks up, 

"Daddy?" 

"Yes love?" He asks, turning in his seat to face her, 

"Can we listen to Frozen?" 

"No," Wyatt speaks up, "put on Cars." 

"How about we meet in the middle and settle for some Brother Bear or... Lion King?" Tom poses, settling the argument your kids'll inevitably have. And it works. Tom finds the soundtrack for Brother Bear in his phone, quickly shuffling it and stuffing the device in the cup holder. His Spotify has slowly become Disney movie playlists since he's become a dad and he loves every second of it. Harper swings her feet, staring out her window as she hums along to a song, Tom watching her in the rear view mirror with a smile plastered on his lips. You reach up and stroke over the back of his neck, leaning over to kiss his cheek, 

"You are so perfect Tom Holland." You tell him. He draws his eyes off the road for just a moment to look at you, 

"Well that makes two of us Y/N Holland." He says, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Squeezing his fingers in yours, you sigh and twist in your seat to look at your babies. 

Wyatt resembles his daddy the most. He has the same signature curls and eyes and you can already see he's starting to inherit the same nose Sam has and those Holland freckles have emerged. He's definitely a little mama's boy and with the way the girls favor Tom, you hope Oliver will follow in his big brother's footsteps. Mia has Tom's eyes too, but her features resemble you a little bit more. She has your hair type and color, and your nose and eye shape. Tom loves that about her. Harper has more of your features as well, but she's a near perfect combination of the both of you, a gorgeous little girl that Tom coddles the most because she'll let him. He's been in love with all of your babies since the day they were conceived, the most amazing father and husband, getting up at ungodly hours to let you sleep in and him take care of the kids. He's always been an early riser because of golf and now, being a dad, he has the skill to master it like he was never sure he'd be able to. His true calling in life, the cure for his anxiety, has been you and his babies. 

Dragging his hand back up to your lips, you kiss it, 

"I love you so much Tom Holland." You whisper. He smiles, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to look at you, 

"And I love you. More than you'll ever know." He replies, dragging your hand up to kiss it. Tears spring into your eyes again as you stare into his eyes and recognize that boy you met nearly eleven years ago, the one that only wanted to be with you sexually and wanted to avoid you emotionally. You recognize the boy that tore apart your relationship again and again, but always chose to get better for you. And now he's the most perfect husband and father. And that's all that matters to you. 

Yes, you were nervous moving to Seattle, starting new, but your friends, Tom, they've made it easier to live. They've changed your life for the better. They’ve given you immense amounts of love and Tom, himself, has given you a love like no other that created four beautiful babies. And you wouldn't change a thing. Moving from Beverly Hills to Seattle, has proved worth it.

Permanent Taglist → @embrace-themagic // @t-holland // @winters-beauty // @lolabean1998 // @musiclover1263 // @xxtomxo // @chillinjules // @sincerelyfan // @srh5605 // @justkeepdreaminganddreaming // @spnobsessedmemes // @hazmyheart // @saltysebastianstan // @counting-eyerolls // @princezzariel // @lilya-petrichor // @20coldhearts // @random-fandomer // @celinexlopez // @itsjusttor // @popluckbih // @takemetooneverlanddd // @marshyrebelcloud // @loveylangdon // @inlovewithmobtom // @bangtan-serendipity // @meg-holland // @localfangirlx // @turtlee-says-rawr // @illicitparker // @chances-and-miracles // @hatterripper31 // @agirlwithpointlessideas // @cassiopeiaskies // @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory // @deviilsangel // @peterspideysense // @hannahholland1811 // @jackiehollanderr // @artsyle // @unbelievableholland // @hollandjmc // @lmao-whats-up // @jbchrisevans // @biebsmylife95 // @sovereignparker // @spideynut // @hardcorefanofeverything // @petersasteria // @softholand // @gab-bones // @emistrash // @quaksonhehe // @supernaturalwriter24 // @myfinalwords // @sleepyhollands // @spiderman-2013 // @a-disappointing-teen-author // @deanismygodwiththatwhistle // @loudlycolorfulkryptonite // @rhyrhy462 // @dorbiksbitch // @joyleenl // @fairydustparker // @unbelievableholland // @justanotherusername80 // @lieswithoutfairytales // @witchyartemis // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @notquitewayne // @slytherinambitious // @dummiesshort // @desir-ae // @ataraxia-xe // @sarahm467 // @fanfic-reblogger // @bored-beryllium // @pandaxnienke // @u-rrose // @nj01 // @miraclesoflove // @itsemohours // @aeonian-forever // @troberts2319 // @tempo-rary-fix // @wonderwoman292 // @peonyophelia // @thehumanistsdiary // @hallecarey1 // @keithseabrook27 // @quacksonholland // @white-wolf1940 // @itsbieberxholland // @lokibuckylove6 // @goodgirlgonetom // @tomholland-isbae // @detectiveskully // @gigihydra1 // @chai-parker // @kharshsti // @tomthetease // @carmensandiego // @quxxnxfhxll // @i-love-superhero // @osterfieldshollandgirl // @chubby-cheek-calum // @ilovemypolarbear // @zspideyy // @haleemah // @hennamatildah // @lolooo22 // @tomshufflepuff // @blackbat2020 // @capital-koreasofia // @mathletemadison // @mayra_preciado20 // @warmchick // @drayshadow // @sophia220 // @bigdickjerry21 // @silverrmistt // @tpwkrosalinda // @hollandswife // @wh0reformaneskin

Make Me Love You Taglist → @maybemona // @spideyyeet // @princess-chocolate-drop // @cxptain-capsicle // @kthemarsian // @heavenspidey // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @likeit-or-leaveit // @chaos-rising // @aiianovna // @ohfxxkitsme // @thehappygrungelife // @littleros-es // @no-no-notorious-writes // @peteysbaby // @000nova000 // @stxfxniexreads // @shutuppeter // @dangerousluv1 // @popluckbih // @icant-hangout-imdrumming // @celinexlopez // @lavender-writer // @loveylangdon // @complete-trash-101 // @gkarisa839 // @alrightyy-aphrodite // @mariemrose // @thatharrystyleskid // @blindedbyyourgrace17 // @the-professional-procastinator // @runawaywithme-xo // @coupsniel // @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory // @drown-me-before-dema-does // @heartofholland // @tomhollandthing // @unicorn-princess-1999 // @sle8293 // @hon3y-baby // @applenter // @hollandjmc // @spideyth // @lmao-whats-up // @keithseabrook27 // @greatpizzascissorstaco // @thegirlwiththediary // @rachaeldonnaspiteri1 // @primadonnasdream // @coni-martina // @el-vs94 // @spideynut // @radiob-l-a-hblah // @petersasteria // @legacies-roserussell // @xoxohollands // @supernaturalwriter24 // @aimerriarkle // @quaksonhehe // @ilovepeterparker13 // @kill-the-stereo // @bambi-on-stage // @kickingn-ames // @kindasortahumanbutalsoinsane // @lovemarvelousfics // @indigo-is-a-colour // @tempo-rary-fix // @dangerouslovefanfic // @sinisterspidey // @usuck // @dhtomholland // @fandomwallflowers-blog // @kim2812liza // @spideysimpossiblegirl // @m-a-r-i-n-t-p // @siriuslysalty28 // @quacksonholland // @disaster-rose // @agustdowney // @hopeless-romantic-baby // @detectiveskully // @morrowgrace // @sleepinthea // @mlmarint // @tomholland-isbae // @nonamenatalia // @gigihydra1 // @chai-parker // @kharshsti // @hollands-wifey // @13flamingroses // @adriannauni // @tomthetease // @finelinedebut // @hyungaway // @robertpattinson-th // @capital-koreasofia // @chubby-cheek-calum // @ilovemypolarbear // @lovely-blackinnon // @hennamatildah // @gaylord // @sublimeeaglepicklecash // @bibliophilewednesday // @lolooo22 // @roseke // @spideyspeaches // @adriannauni // @mrsholland96 // @adriannauni // @mayra_preciado20 // @bora-world // @tomhollandloverrr // @hopexargent // @randomstufflol29 // @elizabeth228

Tom Holland Tags → @hollandjmc // @lmao-whats-up // @keithseabrook27 // @petersasteria // @theandreagtz // @joyleenl // @icyhollands // @sinisterspidey // @gkarisa839 // @tempo-rary-fix // @bellamy-barnes // @dangerouslovefanfic // @just-here-to-escape-from-reality // @usuck // @dhtomholland // @isimpforazula // @kim2812liza // @spideysimpossiblegirl // @m-a-r-i-n-t-p // @quacksonholland // @disaster-rose // @agustdowney // @wheeinsbitch // @mlmarint // @nonamenatalia // @gigihydra1 // @chai-parker // @kharshsti // @veryholland // @tomthetease // @carmensandiego // @carmensanfrancisco // @chubby-cheek-calum // @ilovemypolarbear // @parkers-gal  // @lovely-blackinnon // @haleemah // @lowkey-holland // @hennamatildah // @homesicam // @gaylord // @sublimeeaglepicklecash // @bibliophilewednesday // @lolooo22 // @roseke // @spideyspeaches // @mrsholland96 // @capital-koreasofia // @mayra_preciado20 // @bora-world // @el-vs94 // @hopexargent // @randomstufflol29 // @elizabeth228​ // @obsessed-airbender​ // @hufflepuffzutara​ // @the-fan-18​ // @whoeveniskendall​ // @bigdickjerry21​ // @silverrmistt // @tpwkrosalinda // @hollandswife​ // @wh0reformaneskin​ // @sabrisholland​ // @coco-bitch​

[moon-light-jukebox]

see? - [Reid x Reader] - Chapter 3

masterlist

previous chapter // series index // next chapter

Summary: Months after Reader left, Reid has tried to put his life back together. He’s never stopped trying to find Reader, but he may find her in the worst way possible. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k for Chapter 3

Content Warning: Normal Criminal Minds stuff. Mentions of drug addiction. This series has a villain, and he harms women. There is no s*xual assault, but there is brief talk of torture, and then the death of the victims. Spoiler: Our unsub targets pregnant women, one of the infants does not survive. Reader and her baby are fine. I don't go into detail, but if you need to skip this, I understand. 

A/n: How can I ever thank you all enough for being so patient with me? That being said, this chapter does end on a cliffhanger that you probably saw coming if you read “River” by @yours-truly-r​. She shared this plot with me, so this is my version. I’ll try my best not to make you wait too long for chapter 4. Chapter 3 & 4 are in Spencer’s point of view, but the remainder of the series will be in Reader’s POV. 

-- Linear Progression -- 

(Spencer’s POV)

The night we came back from my first case with the BAU, Morgan declared that he was going to a bar near his apartment to "get lucky." When I pointed out the fact that it was almost 2 am, he had told me, "time is an illusion, Pretty Boy."

That was the first time he called me pretty boy, along with the first time I tried to explain a theoretical concept he had no interest in hearing.

He was right to a degree. The way we understand time is an illusion. Time doesn’t happen in the linear way that we as a society perceive it to. The physics of time are still widely debated, but the running hypothesis is that everything that has ever happened is still happening right now. Every single moment in time is happening all at once, and it always will be.

Morgan didn’t “get lucky” that night, but he did give me a ride back to my apartment. I think that was the beginning of our friendship; I had never been able to understand the social constructs of relationships and friendships, but I think he felt some sort of responsibility for the skinny kid with glasses who was babbling about the physics of time at 3 am.

My friendship with Derek Morgan was one of the most important of my life.

Which is why I wasn't going to murder him for banging on my door at 7 am.

“Open up, Pretty Boy!”

Grumbling, I got out of bed and padded down the hallway towards my living room where Morgan was pounding on the door so hard, I was concerned it was going to fly off its hinges.

“If you break my door, you’re gonna fix it,” I muttered out when I finally pulled the door open.

The man who was the closest thing to a brother I had just smiled at me. “I restore houses, kid. It’d be an improvement.”

Smirking, I waved him into my apartment. In the months since…Since February, Morgan had made it a habit of coming by several times a week whenever we were in town. I don’t know if the rest of the team knew he did it, I don’t know if they were as worried about me as he was, but it wouldn’t have surprised me.

“Coffee?” I asked, making my way into the kitchen.

"We'll grab some on the way," he said, flopping down on my couch. "We have a case; I told Hotch I'd swing by and get you. It's wheels up as soon as we get there and finish the briefing."

I frowned. “I didn’t get any message.”

“I know. I asked Garcia to let me wake you.” He turned his head around to look at me. “You haven’t been sleeping, kid.”

He wasn’t wrong. “It’s…I’m trying, Derek.”

I didn’t need to say it, because he knew it. Much like time, recovery isn’t a linear process. You start, you stumble, you go back, sometimes you go up then down. It’s an imperfect journey because there isn’t a finish line; addiction can’t be beaten, only beaten back.

Derek Morgan had been beside me through every step of my recovery.

Lumbering off the couch, he walked over to stand before me. “Reid, you’re doing the best you can. Everyone stumbles.”

I shook my head. “It’s different. I can…I can still see it. I can still see it all, Morgan.”

I could still see the look on Ben’s face when he found the vials of Dilaudid I had hidden all around my apartment. I could still remember the look on Hotch’s face when he told me she was gone. I could still see the anger on Garcia’s face when she refused to help me find her.

Most of all, I remember how y/n looked when I told her I would kill her, give up her precious life, for one more moment with Maeve. Every morning, right before I wake up, that memory flashes behind my eyes.

I’ve called in every favor I’m owed, reached out to every connection; no one could find her. She vanished.

I quickly realized the only way she could vanish like that is if she had help from inside the bureau, and if I had to guess, I’m sure I know who helped her. If she went to all these lengths, she didn’t want to be found, least of all by me.

"We'll find her, Spencer," Morgan said gently, pulling me from my thoughts.

He said the words to comfort me, but even he knew they weren’t true. No one would find y/n y/l/n until she wanted to be found.

Nodding my head, I made my way back towards my bedroom to get ready for the case.

Making amends is very big in the recovery process. I wanted to make amends to y/n, and while I wanted that to be in the traditional sense, I settled for a symbolic one.

I tried to make myself into the man she thought I was before that night. Every time I felt the itch crawl up my spine, I thought of her face. It didn't make the craving go away; it just made it easier to bear.

I didn’t deserve to have her back in my life, but I wanted to be someone who did.

After I had finished getting ready, I made my way over to my bedside table to pick up the coin I carried with me everywhere, running my fingers over the edges before placing it in my pocket.

Two hundred and forty-seven days sober, and each one of them was for her.

--

We never made it to the bullpen that morning. Hotch called and informed us that it was wheels up "immediately," and that we would debrief on the plane. Morgan and I were the last members of the team to arrive. He took a seat on the couch beside Callahan while I opted to sit at the table across from Hotch and JJ.

“Garcia is going to be out for the remainder of the week. She has the flu,” our unit chief informed us, his eyes fixed on the tablet in front of him.

Morgan toyed with his phone, no doubt trying to text his ‘baby girl’ before take-off. “Who is going to be running things from here since she’s out? Kevin?”

Hotch nodded, but I couldn’t help but notice he seemed distracted. “He’s the most familiar with Garcia’s systems.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days,” Rossi muttered just a bit too loudly, earning a mock glare from Hotch, a confused look from Kate, an eye roll from Morgan and JJ, and a soft huff of laughter from me.

“Let’s get started,” Hotch ordered, drawing all of our focus back to the present. “The Oregon State Police have requested our help.”

I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose at the tablet in front of me, further proof Garcia wasn’t on this case. Despite how mad she was at me over Y/n, she still always accommodated my wishes for paper files.

The state police?” Morgan asked. “Not the locals?”

"No," Hotch answered, right as I brought up an image on my screen. "He's not sticking to one county."

I heard a strangled gasp from JJ, but I didn't need to look up to know why. “How many?” I asked.

“When the original request was made two women had been abducted. Both of them were pregnant, days from giving birth, and both from the same town of Silverton, Oregon. The first victim was Iris Jenkins. She was a 31-year-old woman, and she was 40 weeks and 2 days gestation when she was taken by the unsub. The M.E. estimates he held her for less than 24 hours before she died.”

“The baby?” JJ asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“He was left outside of a local hospital in Silverton. He was completely unharmed. The next intended victim is Nancy Williamson. She was abducted outside her workplace. Also 40 weeks pregnant with a boy.”  

“Could that be a coincidence?”

Hotch still didn’t look up from his tablet. “It could have been before the latest victim.”

“But Nicole Williamson escaped?” Morgan asked. “That’s lucky. Did she give a description of the guy?”

“No, she said he kept her blindfolded and bound to a chair.”

That caused me to pause. "That doesn't make sense. Why would the unsub blindfold them if he plans on killing them anyway?"

Rossi spoke for the first time. “Psychological torture? Sensory deprivation?”

I thought about that as I swiped through the crime scene photos; pausing when I saw a photograph of a letter on the screen. "He makes them write letters?”

“Just the first victim and the third. The one that got away was only held for 12 hours.”

I frowned. “Is this blood? Or just red ink?”

“The first is red ink, the second letter is still being processed.”

It was obvious based on the letter spacing and how many loops were in the letters that a woman wrote this letter. Based on the contents of the letter, I could also assume she was under duress.

Hotch spoke again, pulling my focus. “Morgan, I'd like for you and JJ to drive up to Silverton. Visit Miss Williamson and ask if she's up for a cognitive interview, then visit the M.E., ask him if he remembers anything about the first victim.”

“Where was the…” JJ’s question trailed off when he got to the same image Kate’s hand had been frozen over for the last 47 seconds, the same photo that was described in the incident report that Hotch had on his screen.

My unit chief, my friend, cleared his throat before he spoke. “Kayla Whitmore was found an hour ago in Eugene, Oregon. The autopsies are already underway, and the scene is being processed.”

“The cause of death seems pretty apparent,” Morgan said with a look of disgust on his face.

"The time between this most recent kill and the last abduction is much shorter. We need to move fast," Hotch said, his voice grave. "Kate, I'd like for you to come with me to the FBI satellite office in Bend, that's where we're landing. Kayla Whitmore's credit card was used to buy gas right outside the town limits. Rossi, I'd like for you and Reid to ride out to Eugene. It should be undisturbed."

"I already don't understand this guy," Rossi muttered. "The first baby survives, the third doesn't. The second victim is blindfolded, but it doesn't appear the others were. He makes them write their own letters. Then he uses the third victim's credit card. This behavior…it's erratic."

“Is the message on the wall the same in both crime scenes?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

--

The media hadn’t named our unsub yet, but I was sure it wouldn’t be long, especially once word of Kayla Whitmore reached the public. This type of violence always draws attention.

Rossi was moving around the room, silent, but his eyes moving rapidly over everything. “He’s a cocky son of a bitch, I’ll give him that.”

I nodded. “Do we have the original note?” One of the deputies brought over an evidence bag, inside of it was the wrinkled piece of paper. “Have we analyzed this yet?”

The man nodded. “It’s red ink, just like the last.”

"It makes sense; blood might start to coagulate and make it more difficult to work with. Rossi, come here." I called, offering him the note.

“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked,” he read. “It sounds biblical.”

“It is. It’s Psalm 82, verses 3 through 4.”

“Was the first note biblical?”

“The first victim was made to write, ‘Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.’ That’s from Ephesians. There are similar themes in both letters.”

“So, he’s perverting the bible to fit his own fucked up narrative? How original.” The older man handed the paper back to me. “We have to find out how he’s choosing them.”

My gaze moved over to the right wall of the room. "Did the unsub leave any prints when he wrote on the wall?"

It wasn't the first message I'd seen written in blood, but I don't think it's something you ever get used to. “’Do you see this, son of man?’ could be another biblical reference. It’s Ezekiel chapter 8, verse 17. “Do you see this, son of man? Yet you will see still greater abominations than these.’”

“So, are the children abominations? Or the mothers?” The deputy said quietly.

“The mothers,” I answered. “He doesn’t harm the children. I think it must go against his…moral code.”

The deputy scoffed behind me, and I was inclined to agree; the idea that someone could do something like this and have a moral code was almost impossible to imagine.

But devils hide in plain sight all the time.

“His rage is escalating,” I pointed out.

I heard the deputy ask Rossi what that meant.

“This guy is a bum,” the man who developed the art of profiling explained. "He can't get a girlfriend, and he has this idea in his mind that it’s the women’s fault. He thinks women owe him sex, love, whatever he wants.”

I walked away from the wall, turning to face the two men. “He thinks they’re dirty, unclean. It’s why he makes them write the note.  By making them say they deserved what he did to them, he’s humiliating them even after death.”

The deputy’s face was pale as he survived the scene around him. “Why does he make them leave the messages in their own blood?”

“Only one message is from them,” I replied, gesturing to the evidence bag. “The message in the blood is from the unsub.”

Before we exited the room, I turned back to that message again, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Both victims had been discovered in the exact same way. The women were naked, stabbed multiple times, but with no signs of sexual assault. They were positioned in the middle of the blood-soaked mattress, their arms spread wide.

He had left the same message on the walls of the room, written in the blood of the woman he killed.

“Do you see this, son of man? Do you see?”

--

“The media is calling him The Prophet.”

Rossi scoffed. “I bet it was that wet behind the ears deputy who leaked the note and told him the kid’s biblical theories.”

Rossi and I had arrived at the FBI office in Bend, Oregon about an hour ago. Kate and Hotch had already set up; JJ and Morgan were on their way back from Silverton now.

“So, what do we know about this jag-off?” Rossi questioned, staring at the evidence board.

Hotch came to stand at the head of the conference table, his eyes sharp, his voice clipped. "Reid, Dave, what did the M.E. say about the Eugene autopsies?”

"He said he suspected it was a botched c-section. Kayla was just over 40 weeks pregnant, but he said it's not uncommon for first-time mothers to go up to 42 weeks.”

“I know that’s right,” I heard JJ mutter from the speaker placed in the center of the table.

“Indicates a lack of medical knowledge,” Morgan offered. “Because we know this guy isn’t squeamish.”

I agreed with my friend but didn't comment on it; my mind already on another topic. "What's interesting is that Kayla had an anterior placenta, meaning it attached to the front of her uterus. Usually, the placenta attaches to the posterior wall, meaning it's more towards her back. Because of the unusual placement of the placenta, I think that the death of this fetus was accidental."  

“It wasn’t a fetus, Reid,” Kate snapped. “It was a baby.”

I cleared my throat, meeting her angry gaze. I knew Callahan was the guardian of a young girl, and based on my years working with fellow agents who were also parents, I knew it was best not to argue about definitions and semantics. "I'm sorry, Kate," I murmured.

Her gaze softened. "It's fine. Sorry. This case is just…this is a lot." She looked down to swipe across her tablet screen. "This child was a boy too?"

I nodded. “All three of the victims were pregnant with boys.”

“So, he wants boys?”

Rossi turned to Kate. “He wants mothers of boys. Probably his way of killing his mother over and over again.”

“But how does he know the babies are boys?” JJ asked.

“So, what do they have in common?” Hotch asked. “Let’s add Nicole Williamson into the mix too, what do we have?”

“There were quotes from the bible in the two complete notes. Those specific verses are often referenced when they speak about protecting children,” I said, my eyes moving over the files. “The women were all in their 20’s. They were all at least 39 weeks pregnant, and...huh, there’s not a father named in any of the medical charts.”

“But how does he know that!” JJ huffed again in frustration.

“And are we sure this unsub is a guy?” Callahan questioned. “There was no sign of sexual assault.”

“If we follow statistics, women take babies, and men take children. With that in mind, it would be safe to assume this was a woman, but the amount of rage we’re seeing makes me think it’s a man.” I turned my back to the team, my eyes moving over the crime scene photos. "The letter was written under duress, but the language is very misogynic. Based on the information Kevin gathered about Kayla's online life, she had a normal amount of self-esteem. It's out of character that she'd talk about herself this way. By all accounts, she was excited for the baby. It's also incredibly difficult to stab someone 54 times. All the women would have fought him until the end. He'd have to be stronger to subdue her. It's a biological instinct, mothers' will stop at nothing to protect their children."

Hotch had pulled out his phone before I finished speaking, dialing Kevin Lynch to give him the criteria of the person we were searching for. "We need women in the Bend, Oregon area that are close to giving birth. There will not be fathers listed on the medical charts. She'll be at least 39 weeks into her pregnancy."

“Alright, so that would leave us with…” Kevin wasn’t able to finish his sentence before an alarm started blaring over the speaker, almost drowning out Kevin’s yelp of surprise.

“What is it?” Hotch asked. “Did something happen?”

"I…I don't know, sir," Kevin answered after he had finally gotten the alarm to quiet. "I was running the search, and…it triggered some sort of system-wide alarm. It completely locked me out of Penny’s system.”

Morgan clicked his tongue. “That doesn’t make any sense. Penelope wouldn’t set some alarm without a reason.”

“Wait. Kevin, was there any sort of message that came up when you triggered the alarm?” Hotch asked, his tone urgent.

There was a weird tension on Hotch’s face while he waited for Kevin to reply. “Yeah, uh, just a dialogue box that says ‘Nightingale.’”

“Nightingale?” Kate asked. “Isn’t that the…”

Hotch didn't reply; he hung up abruptly while Kevin was still speaking. I felt a chill run down my spine when I noticed his hands trembled slightly.

“What is it, Hotch?” Rossi asked urgently.

But he never got a chance to answer; a deputy stormed into the room. "We just got a report of an abandoned car outside of a grocery store about half a mile from here. It's registered to a young woman, and there was an empty infant car seat strapped in the back."

Hotch took the paper from him but didn't look at it. His eyes were screwed shut, and his shoulders were tense.

I heard when the voice spoke on the other end of the line. I heard the deep breath Hotch let out before he spoke.

“Penelope, I need to know where y/n is.”

----------

Permeant Taglist : @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo​ @justagirllookingforherplace​ @nanocoool​ @andiebeaword​ @imjusthereformggcontent​ @rainsong01​ @violentvulgarvolatile​ @mys2425​ @al3xmnd @imfalling-inlove​ @cielo1984​ @shadyladyperfection​ @kissingvalentino​ @goofygubler14​ @levylovegood​ @diesinspanishbcimhispanic​ @criminalmindzjunkie​ @addie5264​ @hopefulfangirl24​ @vellichor01 @ellegreenawayapologist @mcntsee​ @eevee0722​ @peacedolantwins2​ @ashwarren32 @goldencherrymooon​ @pumpkin-reads​ @mood---board​ @gublersbooblers​ @lesbian-emilyprentiss​ @badkittybang @quxxnxfhxll​ @jessayln-jpeg

All Spencer Reid: @mediocre-writer​ @haihappen5​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​

See? Series taglist: @bluegoopplaidsalad @notasofti​ @bisoner​ @haylaansmi​ @ameliamonster​ @amirahroronoa​ @gredvb​ @riley-the-pan-nonbinary​ @solangeltorres @gwendolyn02​ @sallyjacksontheweirdauthor @fangirl-nonsense @immahotmess​ @falcon-arrows​ @obsessivereaderchick​ @flor-sin-petalo​ @rexorangecouny​ @keomoon​ @hermanthewormman @sakurashortstack​ @criminallminds​ @boiled-onionrings​ @sierraraeck​ @t0xicllama​ @thequeerishere555 @lexiessimagination @blameitonthenight21​ @abbyg217​ @lil-roaster @wooya1224 @faesyl @tessa-laurel @little-blue-fishie​ @fandomyfangirl​ @youaremyfiveever​ @evelyncade @sunshine-ncs​ @maikanna​  @wishiwasabook @swiftingday​ @thelastfirerbender​ @alligatorrampage​ @notebookgirl30​ @forever-a-cynical​ @alligatorrampage​ @samayoshito​ @readandreid​ @mvlanchqly​ @odetobeetlebum​ @notebookgirl30​ @meowiemari​ @calm-and-doctor

Let me know if you’d like to be on any taglist. 

[jjmaybanksbaby]

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer IV

Part 07: Crashing Down

series masterlist | previous part

summary: A jarring family emergency forces you to consider the future of your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

a/n: I'm a little bit emotional about this series ending because I've had so much fun writing it! Enjoy the last part and, as always, please come share your reactions with me in my inbox. Okay, that's all from me!

word count: 2.1k words

Rafe Cameron knew how to text. He was somehow witty, charming, and hilarious all in less characters than a single tweet. Texting with most boys was like talking to a brick wall: single-syllable answers, unironic uses of punctuation, asking “What are you wearing?” before even listening to how your day went. Though, to be fair, Rafe had asked that same question a few times, which always earned him a sarcastic answer in return. Well, except for that one time.

You’d been forced to spill the beans about your dreamy summer romance to Alice and Kensie after one of Rafe’s funnier texts almost made you pee yourself laughing at the lunch table.

“Oh, so he’s a stud muffin,” Alice announced, peering over Kenzie’s shoulder at the photo on your phone.

“Please god don’t call anyone a stud muffin ever again Al,” Kenzie replied.

“What? The 80s are like making a comeback.”

“Yeah, not that,” you countered and Alice huffed.

“He’s totally hot though,” Kenzie said, handing the phone back to you. “And I kinda hate you for not telling us about him.”

You looked down at the picture. Rafe was kissing your check while you grinned up at the camera, the golden hour lighting made the whole thing look rather enchanting. It was your favorite picture of you and him.

“Oh shit,” Kenzie said causing you to look up from the phone. “You’re like in love in love with him.”

“What? No,” you protested. Yes, your brain corrected.

Kenzie glanced over at Alice for backup.

“Besides, I wasn’t hiding him. I just didn’t know if there was anything there to...tell,” you finished.

“I wish I had a handsome summer fling with spectacular cheekbones,” Alice sighed.

“Don’t let your boyfriend hear you saying that.” Kenzie chucked a fry off her tray at Alice who dodged it expertly.

“Oh, please. Matty knows I would dump his ass for someone who looks like a young Chuck Bass any day of the week. Gimme your phone. I wanna see the photos again y/n.”

“I seriously don’t know how you and Matthew have been together for two years,” Kenzie replied.

“Are you kidding? They’re practically made for each other,” you added.

“The phone, please,” Alice interjected. “I wanna thirst over your mans while my boyfriend is sucking up to his English teacher so she doesn’t fail him. Of course, I told him he needed to actually read Wuthering Heights and not just sparknotes it. But did he listen? No. I picked a real winner y’all,” she finished, taking the phone from your outstretched hands. “You sure Rafe doesn’t have any brothers? Not even like a half-step brother?”

So yeah, going great. Against the odds of three thousand miles, the whole thing was somehow working. Long-distance friends with benefits? Check. Well, except for those moments when that nagging feeling in your stomach came back and you’d start overthinking everything. His texts would sit, unread in your phone for days or even a whole week, slowly sinking to the bottom of your messages.

Then came the call from the Kildare Country Hospital in the early hours of a foggy April morning. You should have gone to sleep hours ago but were still up, desperately trying to cram Maria’s lines into your brain while also texting Rafe. The Sound of Music opened in three weeks and your director had already chewed you out twice for not being off-book, something about being an upperclassman and the lead, and what kind of an example were you setting for the rest of the program. Big speeches were kind of your director's thing, you learned to just ride them out.

Around 1 a.m. your phone ran with an incoming FaceTime call from Rafe. You pressed the green acccept button, a smile spread across your face as Rafe’s own filled the screen.

“Hey Broadway Star.”

“Hi Rafe.” The dim lighting of his bedroom made his feature especially striking. “What are you still doing up?”

“Can’t sleep. Plus you’re up too so. How’s the memorizing going?”

“Shitty,” you replied, closing your binder with a sigh. “I’m too tired to do anymore of it tonight anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking I could come to Oregon for your opening night?”

“Really?” The possibility of Rafe sitting in the audience made your heart race.

“Yeah, why not? I’ll ask Ward if I can borrow the plane that weekend and I bet Sarah’ll want to come too. I wanna see my girl kill it. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Rafe. You know my friends think you’re hot.”

“Oh, do they?” Rafe replied, rolling over onto his back in his bed.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Cameron.”

The home phone ran but you ignored it, much more invested in your conversation with Rafe. The second time the hospital left a message. Your Nonna’s heart had given out. The prognosis wasn’t good. She had barely any time left.

Your heart dropped as the words echoed over the speaker of the answering machine.

“Rafe,” you said, cutting him off momentarily. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back later. I gotta-” you ended the call before Rafe even had the chance to respond. You dropped your phone on the kitchen table, dashing up the stairs to your parents’ bedroom. Your father was booking a flight for your mother back to the Outer Banks minutes later.

The end had come so quickly, so unexpectedly. It was almost like that made it harder. There'd been just enough time for your mom and uncle to get to the Outer Banks, sitting on each side of your Nonna as her final breaths passed through her lungs. Now, everyone was there to say goodbye one last time. Uncle Austin and his fiancé. Your mom and dad. Both your siblings. The entire population of Figure Eight.

☼☼☼

Rain drizzled down from the dark, gray clouds looming overhead. It was as if Mother Nature was mourning your Nonna too, hiding the sunshine away.

Three baby ducks followed their mama into the man-made pond at the edge of the cemetery. You watched their tiny feet kick up small waves disturbing the peaceful water and the tears silently slipped down your face.

The cars were waiting to take you back to your Nonna's house for the wake. The same house with the for-sale sign now stuck in the front yard. The for-sale sign with Rose's patronizing grin that you were starting to really hate. Your dad had handled that. Listing the house. He'd handled most of the funeral arrangement's actually because your mother had been too sunken into her grief to make any decision. Sending out the invitations, picking out your Nonna's casket, choosing the flowers. Your mother clung to him during the entire funeral, weeping into his shoulder.

“Y/n?” Rafe's voice called out from behind you and you turned to see him walked toward you. He’d stood at the back of the church with his family during the funeral. You had longed for him to be sitting in the first pew next to you, to have had his hand to hold onto to ground you, but it hardly would have been appropriate. Your Nonna would have sooner risen from the dead than have had a Cameron front row at her funeral.

As soon as he was close enough, Rafe reached for you, pulling your body tight into him. Your head landed on his chest and the sobs came moments later. God, he always smelled the same. He just let you cry, holding you close, smoothing his hand over your hair.

“I know you’re selling your grandma’s house but I was thinking you could stay with me for the summer," he said as your tears began to slow. It was hard to imagine that you wouldn't return to the Outer Banks once school let out. It was the first week of May already and you could feel the tourist-attracting town waking up. But selling the house just made more sense. Your older sister was already living her life in New York, a real adult life. Next summer, you'd be moving out too, headed to college. The house would sit empty for eight months out of the year, your family couldn't keep it and your uncle certainly didn’t want it. Selling it just had to happen.

You stepped back, slipping out of his embrace. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rafe.”

“Why not?”

“Cause we’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I copied Cleo’s notes for that unit," he joked, trying to lighten to damp mood. “Plus I was never a fan of Leo DiCaprio so I didn’t finish the movie either.”

“It means we’re not supposed to be together, you and me. And whenever we try, the universe rips us apart. We hurt each other.”

Rafe shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly wanting to reach for you again but stopping himself from doing it. “But I can't lose you.”

You reached your hand out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “Oh Rafe, don’t you get it? You never really had me.” You stood up onto your tiptoes to kiss him just like you had the first time three years ago. Rafe barely parted his lips, kissing you back gently. Your hand cupped his face, your thump stroking over his cheek. It was a goodbye. Both of you knew it. It was an ending and this was your closure. You pulled away, your hand falling away from his face.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words. Your eyes fell to the ground. You needed to walk away now. You side-stepped Rafe but he grabbed your waist, turning you back around to face him.

“So that’s it? You’re not even gonna try to fight for us?”

“What even is there to fight for, Rafe? I’ve been fighting for us for the past four years. If we were supposed to be together that car wouldn’t have crashed into ours, I wouldn’t have fallen for Evan when I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at my Nonna’s funeral. What? Are we supposed to do long distance for all of college? I hardly know who I am right now. I have no idea who I’ll be in the next four years. Our future selves might not even like each other. I’m not gonna wait around for you Rafe and I would never ask you to do that for me.” You twirled the small, star charm between your fingers, a nervous habit you'd developed over the past year. His eyes dropped down to your neck momentarily and his adam's apple visibly bobbing as he swallowed his next weeks.

“You were it for me, you know. I tried to give a fuck about anyone else but I couldn’t get your gorgeous, stupid face out of my mind. I only wanted you.” Rafe paused gauging your reaction “I was falling in love with you.”

Your eyes wandered over his stoic expression. “The feeling was mutual, Rafe Cameron.”

He dropped your wrist but you both stood, not moving or saying anything. “Do you wanna walk me back to the car?”

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. Your other hand held onto his bicep so you walked together through the graveyard back to the parking lot.

The moment felt precious and delicate, like the fragile china your Nonna used to collect. You wondered what would happen to all that china.

Rafe placed a chaste kiss on your lips before opening the door of the car.

“I’ll miss you,” you said, the words hanging in the air meaning so much.

“Me too,” Rafe agreed.

You wanted one more kiss, one more passionate declaration of how much this all had meant but that would make leaving Rafe so much more impossible.

You climbed into the car, dropping Rafe’s hand in the process.

“See you around Cameron.” You knew it wouldn’t happen but it felt better than a goodbye.

He smiled back. “Maybe so.”

Perhaps Rafe was right and you’d both end up at a small liberal arts college in California taking the same second-year Econ class with a professor who always smelled like weed. Perhaps the stars would align and two of you would realize the universe wasn’t trying to keep you apart. It was just waiting for the right moment to show you that the love you had for each other was the soulmates, forever and ever kind of love. Perhaps you would get married and Sarah would be your maid of honor, of course. You’d buy back your Nonna’s house to raise your troubling-making kids in. Perhaps, you would find your way back and wake up each day and choose each other again and again.

Or perhaps, he'd always be your right-person-wrong-time. And, in the end, the passing days will steal away your memories of the blue-eyed boy from the Outer Banks.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 2

part one

Summary: Shit hits the fan, and the rest of the BAU is done with it.

Word Count: 3523

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Warnings: case involving targeting gay people, brief mention of a child abduction case, coming out/anxiety of experiencing transphobia (no actual transphobia though), alcohol, swearing

@aleccolocco (sorry it took so long to finish lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, that doesn't make any sense at all, doctor!" you spat his title. "He's not jealous of these couples, killing what he can't have, or a homophobe, punishing gay people for being happy. He's putting an end to their unhappy relationships. He sees it as mercy." Over the months, your cold war with Reid turned into outright conflict, and tonight, alone in the police station in Oregon, was no exception. Hotchner had tasked the two of you with presenting the preliminary profile the next morning, and it was going as well as conversations ever went.

"We have no evidence that he knows they're unhappy, though. All of his victims are clearly happy in their relationships," Reid challenged.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Please. One look at their social media and it's obvious that the relationships are on the rocks."

"Where do you get that? All I see are typical happy relationships. Selfies, checking into special events together, posts about kind things one does for the other. Nothing indicating a troubled relationship to me."

"The gentlemen doth protest too much. They're painting an overly happy painting on social media, hoping that some of that happiness will actually become real. They're desperate for the relationship to work."

"Let's say you're right. I don't think you are, but let's pretend for the sake of trying to see your logic through. Why? Why would they be so desperate to save a failing relationship?"

"God, straight men just don't fucking get it!" You went to grab a file, missing his small flinch. "You don't understand how limited the dating pool for men who are into men is. Look at the most recent couple in particular. The most lovey-dovey on social media, and got the most brutal deaths."

"Yes, because they were the happiest. My theory holds," Reid interrupted.

"No. Look, this guy put way more out there on social media than his partner, and look at the pictures he posted. Look how forced his smile is, look at the body language. He needs this relationship to work, because dating as a gay man is one thing, dating as a gay trans man is almost impossible. Having to start over and deal with transphobia over and over again is worse than being in a bad relationship. In his eyes, I mean." Shit, the first person I come out to on this team cannot be Spencer fucking Reid. He doesn't deserve the honor.

"That was yesterday. We haven't gotten the autopsy report yet. How could you possibly know that he's trans?"

"Testosterone vials and needles in the bathroom. Neither of them are old enough for a cis man to reasonably have issues that require testosterone injections. It's HRT, hormone replacement therapy."

"Even if you're right, your conclusion still seems like a much bigger jump than mine, that the killer sees the relationships as happy and is lashing out at that, be it from jealousy or homophobia."

"Whatever. You'll see tomorrow, when we talk to the M.E., that he was trans, and that fact backs me up. I am absolutely right about this, and you will eat your words. Then I will present my theory, and you can choke on yours."

"We? You anticipate us spending more time together?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I meant 'we' as in the team, asshat. The world doesn't revolve around you. Mine sure as hell doesn't. I'm gonna go back to the hotel, write my own damn preliminary profile, and try to get some fucking sleep. Clearly we won't agree on this."

"We don't ever agree on anything," he pointed out.

"Not true. We agree that we dislike each other and can't get along. Good night, doctor." You turned and walked away, not giving him a chance to respond.

This man is going to be the death of me, he thought as he watched you walk away.

~

The autopsy report came in the next day, and you were right. The tech team also found a locked notes app on his phone that catalogued his unhappiness and fear of leaving. You presented your preliminary profile to the team. Reid didn't even argue; he just sat in silence, leaving the room as soon as you were finished. Never one to pass up a chance to gloat for beating him, you offered to get coffee for the team, got everyone's order, and left shortly behind him.

You were expecting to catch up to him, his impossibly long legs be damned. You weren't expecting him to be waiting for you. He pulled you into an empty interrogation room and pushed you up against a wall, his face just inches from yours. It was only a moment before being flustered by the closeness and those goddamn eyes were replaced by anger.

"What the FUCK, Reid?"

"What game are you playing, Y/N? What game are we playing? What's your endgame?" He spoke quickly and softly, but there was an intensity in his voice that had you captivated.

"I'm the one playing games?" You pushed him back, away from you. "You're the one who decided to hate me before we even met. When I transferred, all I wanted was to do a good job and fit in with the team. But quite literally from the minute I walked through the door, you'd decided you hate me. Turnabout is just fair play, gorgeous." Oh, fuck.

"Gorgeous?" You walked past him to the other side of the room, running a hand through your hair and turning your back on him. "Fine. Yeah, okay? I wanted approval from the brilliant and handsome Doctor Spencer Reid. In a way that's respectful of your heterosexuality, of course." You turned around and faced him again. "But that doesn't matter, because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me right off the bat."

"What makes you think I'm straight?" He's fucking with me, now that that cat is out of the bag. Great. Fucking cishet men. Even he's no different. Thank god he still thinks I'm cis.

"Garcia mentioned in her newbie-run-down that you're 'awkward, but in a cute way, especially around women'. Plus, she mentioned that Emily is bi, leaving everyone else implied straight as even the best cishet allies are wont to do. And as we both know, Penelope knows everything.

And before you make the hearsay argument I can see forming in that brilliant head of yours, I've heard and seen too much about your impeccable memory to assume you don't remember when we all went to the bar after my first case. I was unabashedly Queer, friendly flirting with Derek and calling out cishet bullshit. When I did the latter, you literally rolled your eyes and walked away. Which is, funnily enough, some cishet bullshit. 

JJ said you were just going through a thing and things would get better, but they just got worse. I'm not going to ask you to spill whatever was going on, because it's not my business, but god damn, dude. Why did you hate me so much so quickly?"

"You asked JJ about me?" He took a few steps towards you, a small smile on his face.

"That's the part you focused on? Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, I asked her about why you decided to hate me before we even met. Whatever. I hope you got whatever you were looking for by pulling me in here. I'm done. Done with this conversation, done with whatever has been going on with you and us since the day I transferred." You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm. It was barely more than a light touch, but you let it stop you.

"Y/N. I can't-" he sighed. "God, you make my head spin. I can't organize my thoughts enough to say what I want to. JJ was right, there was something I had to work through, and I guess you'd made up your mind about me before I figured it out. It isn't an excuse for how I treated you, just an explanation. As for the more recent development of arguments… I guess I read a subtext that wasn't there. I could never dislike you, let alone hate you. I am truly sorry for- for all of it." With three long strides, he was out the door.

Make his head spin? What subtext? Since when is he unable to say what's on his mind? And what was that about not disliking me? All we've done since we met is argue or ignore each other. Why else would he act like that? Why do I even care? Why am I so knotted up about what he's thinking and feeling? Whatever. Fuck him, and not in the fun way. I've gotta go get coffee for the team. As you were getting the coffee, you couldn't get the memory of his face, so close to yours, to stop playing in your head.

The rest of the case was mostly as normal, but there was an energy between you and Spencer that was distant like when you joined the team, but there was something else to it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It made you a little bit sad, though, for reasons you didn't understand.

~

"I love you, Y/N. I love you so much. I pulled away from you because it terrified me how much I loved you from the moment you walked through the door that first day. Being around you, even when we were arguing, made me feel alive in a way I never had before. You're all I think about, you're all I could ever want. I love you."

"I… I love you too." You didn't know which one of you moved, maybe you both did, but in an instant, you were kissing Spencer Reid, and you couldn't have been happier.

-

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily. You looked around; you were in your room, home alone, and it was 3:37 am. What the hell was that?

Four hours later, you trudged through the door of the BAU office, venti red-eye in hand. You made it about ten steps before Derek had his arm around your shoulders.

"Whoa there, hot stuff. Rough night?" You tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't budge, so you just kept walking, making him go with you towards your desk.

"So not your business, Derek. You being open with your personal life doesn't mean we all have to be open like that with ours."

"Personal life, huh? So who is he? More importantly, how was he, and should we expect more mornings like this in the future?" You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away. You'd reached your desk, so you sat on top of it, facing him. As you did, you made eye contact with Spencer, who was well within earshot. His face was unreadable, and you weren't sure why him hearing Morgan tease you like that upset you. It never had before.

"No, Derek. There's no one. Just some nightmares. Nothing major; I'll be fine by tomorrow." You got off your desk, sat in your chair, and logged into your laptop. Derek whistled and walked away without another word, shaking his head.

You tried to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done, but you couldn't stop thinking about that dream. The feeling of his lips on yours… it felt so real.

This is ridiculous. Love? We don't even like each other. Well… there was the stuff he was saying yesterday- 'I could never dislike you, let alone hate you', and some sort of subtext? But not disliking someone is a far cry from love. Plus, he's straight, so this is all absurd. And even if he DID have feelings for me, I sure as hell don't return them. I mean, maybe he's not as awful as I've thought, especially if he wasn't coming from a place of dislike. And he really is very pretty. Those eyes… Wait, what the fuck? This is all fucking ridiculous. I just need to get a full night's sleep tomorrow, and all this weirdness will be gone.

You took a giant gulp of your coffee, shook your head, and ran your fingers through your hair. Fortunately, Hotchner called a team meeting, forcing your attention to other things.

While no case could ever be described as 'normal', this case was pretty cut and dry, once you figured out what you were looking for. No dramatic twist, no tense showdown at his arrest. There weren't many cases like that, but you were very glad that this one was. You never sleep well when on a case, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake that dream, the butterflies it left in your stomach every time you looked at him, and the strange disappointment when, unlike before that moment in Oregon, he wasn't looking at you.

Two more weeks passed. The energy between you and Spencer, whatever force it was that had drawn you together to argue again and again, was gone. You were polite to each other, and cooperated as necessary, but didn't do more than the bare minimum when it came to interacting with each other. Your interactions were cold and low-spirited. So you were so glad for a fun night out with Penelope, Emily, and JJ.

"So, Y/N, things seem… different… between you and Spencer these days. Did something happen?" Emily's tone made it clear that the three of them had intended to bring this up long before the plan to get drinks was even made. "I appreciate y'all waiting until I had a couple of drinks in me at least before going here. I guess we just got tired of fighting? I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on in that brilliant head of his. I thought I at least knew where I stood with him, even though it was purely adversarial, but I think I was wrong. But then that leaves me with no idea what he thinks of me or why I care so damn much."

"Really? No idea at all?" JJ asked. "I remember walking by a closed door in the police station in Oregon and hearing the word 'gorgeous' being thrown around." "Oh my god. You heard that?" You buried your face in your hands, and they all laughed.

"Yeah, I did, but only that one word. I'd figured you were on the phone with someone, but then you and Spence both started acting sad. I wasn't sure, of course, that you were talking to him until just now."

"Fuck. Okay, yeah. I think he's pretty. But I'm absolutely not alone in that. Derek calls him Pretty Boy, for goodness' sake. Appreciating someone's beauty doesn't have to mean anything more."

"Y/N, really? After everything we've been through together, you're gonna lie to us like this? Whatever happened, you've both been miserable since, and it's throwing the whole team off balance."

"What do you want me to say, Penelope? That I'm in love with him? He's pretentious and a know-it-all and a nerd and funny and kind and gorgeous and oh my God. I think I'm in love with him." The three women clapped and cheered.

"Finally, you get there! Took you long enough." Emily winked. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Keep this shit between us until my feelings go away. Even if he wasn't straight, I wouldn't risk fucking things up by telling him how I felt. As it is, I stand no chance in hell, so I'm just gonna write this one off as another straight guy I've fallen for and try to move on."

"Y/N, if you tell him-" Penelope started.

"No. You, more than anyone, know why I can't even entertain the idea of trying to be with him. I can't set myself up for that kind of pain. Not here, not where things are so good." You looked at all three of them. "I know that your intentions were good, but I just can't do this. I'm sorry." You grabbed your coat and left.

Your interactions with Spencer changed yet again. Now that you knew you loved him, you couldn't help yourself from being warmer towards him. As the weeks passed, you got closer. After three weeks, you considered him to be a good friend, not that that made things any less painful. You were just hoping that Penelope, Emily, and JJ were going to respect your wishes and drop the subject of your feelings for him.

[From: Penelope]: round table room ASAP

Shit. The last time you'd gotten that text from Penelope, the team left on a serial child abduction case 30 minutes later. So, despite it being your day off, you ran out the door and were there with your go bag in 15 minutes.

But no one else was there. No files on the table, nothing to indicate that there was a new case. You pulled out your phone to call Penelope, but then you heard a commotion outside the door- you'd closed it behind you.

"No, Derek, wait, I don't-"

"Can it, Pretty Boy, and thank me later." Derek opened the door, pushed Spencer into the room, winked at you, and shut the door, all in about 3 seconds.

"Spencer. Um, hi. Is the rest of the team not going to join us? Garcia's text seemed pretty urgent." You tucked your phone into your pocket.

"I don't think so, since I just heard Morgan barricade the door." He tried to open the door and failed.

"Oh my god they're Parent Trapping us. I'm gonna kill them."

Spencer tilted his head, confused. "Parent Trapping?"

"Oh my god have you not seen any of the Parent Trap movies? Were you living under a rock in 1998?" "I was seventeen and working on my first doctorate, so pretty much, yeah," he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh, too, as you firmly ignored how his smile made you absolutely melt.

"Fair enough. The '61 one is good too, but the '98 Lindsay Lohan one is Iconic for good reason. Anyway. The point is, they've locked us in here and won't let us out until we have a conversation."

"Just a conversation? Or do they want us to talk about something in particular?" He took a seat at the table.

"I- yeah, they have a particular topic in mind. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I was tipsy and said things I should have just kept to myself. I thought they'd respected my wishes and left well enough alone, but clearly they didn't. And they won't let us out of here until I tell you-" you hesitated.

"Tell me what?" He leaned forward, and part of you swore you saw hope in his beautiful brown eyes. You looked at the floor, avoiding them.

"Tell you that I… have feelings for you. Romantic, cheesy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feelings. I don't know why they want me to tell you this. We've just gotten to a good place as friends, and you're straight, and-"

Somehow you missed the sound of him getting up and taking the few steps over to you, because you practically jumped out of your skin when his hands were suddenly on your shoulders.

"Y/N. Please, darling, look at me?" Bewildered by the endearment, you did, and his smile was blinding. "I'm not straight. I'm bi, and I think part of me has been in love with you since your first day at the BAU. The thing JJ said I was working through? The potential problems of having feelings for a coworker. For you. As soon as you walked through that door", he pointed and then took both your hands in his, "I loved you. The night at the bar? I was rolling my eyes at myself for how much I wanted to kiss you, and I walked away to stop myself from doing something reckless. I love you, Y/N. Can I do something reckless?"

"I'm trans," you blurted. "I hope that doesn't change anything, but it's something you should know. If knowing that I'm trans changes things, now is the time for you to say something. If it's a problem and it blows up later, it might actually kill me. Because I love you, too. So much. If it doesn't change anything, then please, Spencer, kiss me."

The words were barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours. You weren't sure how long you were kissing before you were interrupted by cheers from the other side of the door. "Shit, Spencer, they're going to be the worst about this, aren't they?" You were a bit embarrassed by how breathy your voice was, but you were too happy to really care.

"Oh yeah. We're not going to get a moment that's just us in this building ever again. Do you want to get it over with and face them, or would you prefer we stay in this moment a bit longer?"

"What do you think, doctor?" you asked, pulling him in for another kiss.