#plus I’m officiating a wedding at the end of this month

[corpish]

my life rn feels like a movie but like I have NO idea who the screenwriters are bc every twist is wild

[waitimcomingtoo]

And I Wouldn’t Marry Me Either

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Synopsis: you release some songs about Tom after a disagreement ends in a breakup

Masterlist

“Marry me.”

“Right now? But I just got comfortable.” Tom mumbled into his pillow with a sleepy smile.

“I’m serious.” You whispered through a laugh and shook his shoulder. Tom’s eyes slowly opened and he could see the blurry outline of you lying next to him in your bed.

“What?”

“I’m just thinking.” You began. “We’ve been together five years.”

“I’m aware.” Tom laughed and snuggled back into his pillow.

“So we should do it. We should get married.” You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him.

“We are married. Everyone knows you’re my girl.” Tom said without opening his eyes and pulled you into his arms. He tried to go back to sleep but you still wanted to talk.

“I know.” You laughed. “But I want to make it official.”

“What, in Gods eyes and all that? I didn’t think you cared about that.” He laughed dismissively and rolled over. You sat up fully in the bed and looked down at him.

“It’s not about that. I want the flowers and the dress and the rings. Don’t you want that?” You asked and shook him a little to clue him in that you were trying to have a serious conversation. You watched Tom shrug and roll onto his back to look up at you.

“I don’t know. I always found weddings kinda dumb.”

“What? What do you mean dumb?” You forced a laugh and tried to hide the disappointment in your tone.

“I mean, like, they’re not even legally binding. It’s this whole big celebration that people spend their life savings on just to get drunk and slid rings on each other fingers. You still have to go to the courthouse to get married and even that’s just a piece of paper.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you felt that way.” You laughed shortly and picked at your nail polish to look busy.

“I didn’t realize you felt a different way.” He said and rolled back onto his stomach. Tom closed his eyes to go back to sleep and you felt your heart sink in your chest. You got out of the bed and opened the curtains a little to distract yourself with the view. You touched the silky white curtains and smiled to yourself as you thought of all the pictures of white dresses you had saved on your Pinterest throughout the years.

“I’ve always dreamed of my wedding.” You said over your shoulder. “I think every little girl does at some point. Every rom com I grew up on ends with the perfect fairy tale wedding. I always wanted that. I wanted my happy ending.”

“But those are just movies. I bet half those couples wouldn’t last in real life.”

“But it’s sweet that they plan that special day together and then get to celebrate their love in front of all their family and friends.”

“Yeah, all that planning just so they can get divorced before the first year is up.” Tom snorted. “I think the whole idea of weddings are stupid. I mean, you spend all that time and money planning for a one day event that people will just attend for the free booze. Plus, women starve themselves for months and spend thousands of dollars on a dress they’ll wear once? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Tom.” You laughed shortly and folded your arms to glare at him. Tom sensed your tone and sat up in bed to pay better attention.

“I just think it’s all so ancient.” He shrugged. “I’m surprised you don’t agree. Weddings cannot exist without all the bullshit sexist traditions. I mean, the white dress to symbolize the brides supposed purity, the father of the bride literally “giving her away” to another man after being asked permission to get engaged in the first place, and then to top it off with her taking his last name because she’s now his property or something. It’s all so trivial and perverse.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. Those traditions may be rooted in old fashioned thinking but I think it’s sweet to ask for my fathers permission. And yeah, I do want my dad holding my hand and walking me down the aisle. He’s not giving me away to be another man’s property, he’s standing by my side as I enter a new chapter of my life. Which is why I want my mama right there on my other side. Plus, lots of people hyphenate their last names nowadays. It doesn’t have to be this monstrous sexism fest you’re making it out to be.” You rolled your eyes and walked into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. Tom frowned when you shut the door. You usually left it open a crack when you did your morning skincare routine, but today, you were shutting him out. Tom got out of bed and walked into the bathroom to see you. You didn’t look up at him as you washed your face.

“Come on. Are you seriously mad because I dissed your rom coms?” Tom said as he put his hands on your hips and kissed your shoulder.

“I’m not mad about that.” You mumbled and brushed him off.

“Then what are you mad about, sour patch?” He teased and kissed your shoulder again.

“I’m mad because I’ve been getting my nails done weekly leading up to our five year anniversary just in case you proposed and you just told me that’s never even crossed your mind!” You exclaimed as hot tears of embarrassment brimmed your eyes. You stormed out of the bathroom and when Tom processed what you had said, he followed after you.

“I don’t believe in marriage, okay? I think it’s unnecessary. Why can’t we just live like this forever? What’s the difference?”

“The difference is pretty big. But I guess you don’t see it like that.” You shrugged and kept walking away from him.

“Can you honestly tell me what would be different between us if we signed a stupid piece of paper at the courthouse or didn’t?” Tom said as he put his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place for a second.

“The difference is I’d be your wife and not just the pathetic girlfriend who stayed even though you didn’t lock it down.” You raised your voice at him and pushed his hands off of you.

“So you only want to get married because you care what people think? How romantic.” Tom rolled his eyes at you.

“That’s not the only reason. I want to get married because it’s important to me. It’s a public commitment where we promise to love and protect each other forever. I want that.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I don’t need a ceremony to do that. I can promise you that right here.” Tom calmed down and took your hands.

“But that’s not special.” You sighed and withdrew your hands.

“If you don’t find that special then maybe you don’t love me as much as you think you do.” Tom said, immediately regretting it.

“What?” You whispered and looked into his eyes to see if he was serious.

“Look, darling, I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I just don’t see the point in marriage. I don’t need to prove I love you with a ring and wedding. I chose to love you every day. That’s enough for me.”

“What if it’s not enough for me?” You genuinely asked him as you wondered it for yourself.

“Then maybe you need to stop being so shallow and materialistic and ask yourself if you’re with me because you love me or because you want to play out some childhood fantasy that you saw in a stupid movie.” He shouted.

You both instantly got quiet. You were quiet for a very long time.

“I didn’t even mean that.”

“I don’t even care.” Your voice cracked as you grabbed your purse and slammed the front door behind you when you left.

“Is this one okay?” Harrison asked, pulling Tom out of his daydream. He replayed that fight over in his head about a dozen times a day. If his mind wasn’t occupied by something at all times, he’d perform an autopsy on that last conversation with you to try and understand what he should’ve done differently.

“What?” Tom asked without looking at his friend. He was too busy staring at the seat you always used to sit in at the kitchen counter.

“Can I use this one?” Harrison repeated and held up a muted purple mug as the tea kettle went off in the background. Tom tore his eyes away from your chair and when he saw the mug, all he could picture was your lipstick stain that used to stain it.

“That’s Y/n’s mug.” Tom said, descending a chill over the room. Harry and Sam’s attention was caught and they looked at Tom to see where this conversation was going.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll put it back.” Harry said and quickly went to put it back in the cabinet.

“It’s fine. She’s not using it.” Tom shrugged. Everyone looked at each other as the awkwardness became palpable.

“How’s she’s doing?” Sam asked and sipped his tea to seem less interested than he really was.

“She’s good. Shes been recording some stuff at her New York studio. New music and whatnot.” Tom replied. He didn’t know this because you told him. He knew this because he’d been stalking your fanpages for every possible sighting of you.

“Have you guys talked lately?” Harry asked.

“Not really. Not since she left.” Tom admitted without looking up at his friends.

“You guys didn’t break up, did you?” Harrison asked, worsening the icy tension. Tom froze at the question for a minute and then shrugged. He didn’t really know what the answer was. In the weeks you’d been gone, you’d make small talk sometimes about work and the weather, but it never went beyond that. It was more to be polite. You kept in touch enough to know what the other was up to on a weekly basis, but you both knew you were dragging out something that had died. You wanted Tom to just say it was over already instead of pretending everything was normal, but he was never going to do that.

“I don’t know. We left things kinda up in the air.” Tom replied. The boys exchanged glances and Harrison nodded to let them know he was gonna take charge.

“Up in the air?” He questioned.

“Yep. Up in the air. Ambiguous. Vague. Open to interpretation. Call it what you want.” Tom shrugged again like it didn’t matter, but it did.

“Well what was the last thing you said to each other?” Harry wondered.

“She said she needed some space and was going to New York. And I said okay.” Tom recalled.

“What about before that?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t talk much in the days leading up to her leaving.” Tom replied and took a long sip of his tea.

“She didn’t speak to you?” Sam asked.

“She did.” Tom nodded. “Sometimes.”

“You didn’t speak to her?” Harrison asked, already knowing the answer.

“I didn’t have anything to say.” Tom shrugged. Nobody spoke a word, but all the boys were thinking the same thing. They knew how bad this was, and that it signaled the end of your relationship.

“What?” Tom asked when he noticed the shift in vibe.

“I’m just surprised.” Harrison shrugged. “You guys were never like this. I can’t even remember your last fight.”

“We didn’t fight. You can’t fight when you don’t speak.” Tom said with a sarcastic smile.

“You should call her.” Harry suggested. “It’s gonna be at least a week since she’s been there, right?”

“Four weeks.” Tom corrected without meeting anyone’s else.

“Mate, you gotta call her.” Harry said quietly and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“I can’t.” Tom shook his head.

“Why not?”

“She can’t break up with me if I don’t talk to her. As long as we don’t have that conversation, we’ll still be together.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Buddy.” Harrison said apologetically. Tom sucked in a sharp breath and looked at his friend with tears brimming his bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t know what else to do.” He said with a crack in his voice.

“Oh shit.” Sam said suddenly, getting everyone’s attention.

“What?” Tom asked.

“She’s dropping a song tonight. She just announced it.” Sam said and showed Tom your Twitter. Tom took Sam’s phone to read your announcement better. Sure enough, you had posted a picture of you dramatically lying across a piano bench with your left hand covering half of your face. You had a ring on every finger except for your ring finger, a detail that wasn’t lost on Tom. He handed Sam’s phone back and look at the floor.

“You didn’t know about this?” Sam asked, and Tom shook his head. He’d gone from being the first person you played every song for to finding out on Twitter that you had a song coming out.

“What’s it called?” Harrison wondered. Sam looked down at his phone to read the title and gulped.

“Who cares?” Sam forced a laugh and put his phone away.

“What’s it called?” Tom asked again.

“You Don’t Know Me Anymore.” Sam mumbled. Tom shut his eyes and hung his head in shame. He hadn’t even heard the song yet but knew it was going to be bad news.

“When does that come out?” He asked Sam.

“Midnight. Tonight.”

Tom’s friends stayed with him all day until midnight rolled around. At 11:58, Tom placed his laptop on the kitchen table and opened YouTube. He knew you always released lyric videos when you dropped a new song and he needed to reach every single world you said. When midnight came, he refreshed his screen and clicked on your video. The background image was a picture of you looking in a mirror with messy hair. You had digitally added sparkly, purple tears to run down the still image of your face. You played a couple notes on the piano before the lyrics appeared beside your face in your handwriting.

“I wish you’d just put me out of my misery

You already know I’m at your mercy

I don’t know why you’re dragging this out

You have all the power, if that’s what this is about

I’m not gonna be the one who walks away

So I need you to say what you want to say

I already know it’s over so just let it end

Please don’t give me the pity of asking to stay friends.”

“I don’t think we should be listening to this.” Sam said as he paused the video.

“Play it.” Tom demanded. Sam sighed and pressed play while the other exchanged looks.

“I’ve been feeling you leaving

I hate this part more than the ending

The moments leading up when I know your heart has changed

I don’t know why we keep pretending

If it’s done just say it’s done

Don’t just change your mind and not tell me

I already know so just let me go

Don’t just watch as I sit and bleed.”

“I don’t think-“ Sam began as he paused it again.

“Stop pausing it.” Tom cut him off. “Play it. I need to hear it.”

Sam pressed play again and Tom pulled the laptop over to himself so he could control it.

“Cause I cut my hand on that first crack in the glass

I feel the icy air between us when you pass me

So I took your chain off from around my neck

I’ll think of something else your initial can stand for

You don’t deserve to see me wearing it anyway

You don’t know me anymore.”

Tom didn’t realize he had started to cry until his tears his his keyboard. He couldn’t see the video anymore from his blurry his eyes had gotten. He wiped his face and leaned on his hands to give the song better attention.

“You know I would die for you in secret

Like that song I showed you in my car

I don’t think you even listened to it

You didn’t draw stars around my scars

You drew your arrow and let it fly

Right into my heart and let me die

Actually, I wish that was the curtesy you provided

Instead, you let this love become one sided

And now we’re shattered like a glass that was dropped

You broke my heart until the day that it stopped

You never got down on knee

Even when I crumbled onto both of mine

I wonder if you ever really wanted me

How did you think we were fine?

And at what part did you realize you liked the idea of me?

But who I actually am isn’t someone you wanted

I miss who I was before we met

Now I can’t go back, I’m haunted

And you were right not to marry me

If I could walk away from me too, I would

You were right to leave when you did

I know I would too if I could

But I’m stuck here with myself

Forever scratching and clawing at your door

Keep it all, even my memories

You’re lucky you don’t know me anymore.”

Everyone sat in silence once the song ended. Tom wiped his eyes again but tears just kept falling down his face.

“That probably wasn’t even about you.” Harrison said after a long beat of silence. Tom gave him a look before turning to his brothers.

“What do you think?” He asked Harry.

“It sounds like she’s hurting too.” Harry shrugged. “I think you’re both waiting for the other to say you’re broken up.”

“Well I’m not saying it.” Tom stated. “She has to.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Sam asked kindly.

“Then we don’t break up.”

“Again, I’m not really sure that’s how it works.”

“Well it’s what I’m going with. Because I can’t break up with her.” Tom sniffled and shut the laptop.

“But you can’t go on like this either.” Sam pointed out.

“She’ll come home when she’s ready.” Tom said, but no one in the room believed him.

And didn’t come home for a while.

After another week of silence, Tom flew to New York to see you. He got to your apartment and knocked on your door without any particular plan in mind. You opened it with a smile but when you saw who it was, you tensed up.

“Hi.” He said with a sad smile.

“If you came to to propose to me as some kind of grand gesture-“

“Please, let me talk.” He cut you off. You sighed and nodded as you leaned against your doorway.

“We have different opinions. But I don’t love or respect anyone more than you. So I am willing to hear your side, which is not something I did last time we spoke about this. I was just listening for what I could rebuttal against. I wasn’t actually listening to understand your thoughts and feelings. But I’m ready now.” He said. You nodded again and seemed to drop the wall that you had put up.

“It matters to me that we get married.” You told him. “I know you think it’s pointless and doesn’t change anything, but it changes things for me. If you picked out a ring, asked my parents permission, and got down on one knee, that would all make me feel special and loved. Those things matter to me in a relationship.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“But now you do know so if you propose, I know you’re just gonna do it to appease me. I’ll always know that you think it’s stupid when I look at the ring.”

“I admit that it found it a little dumb in the past. But it matters to you. And nothing that matters to you can be stupid.”

“I can’t get married to you knowing you don’t really want it. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.” You said and went to close the door.

“But I can’t lose you. My thoughts on marriage literally do not matter to me in the slightest. If it’s important to you and if it is what it takes to make you feel special and loved, then I want it too.” Tom pleaded as he pushed your door back open.

“But you don’t want it. You just don’t want to break up.”

“I can put on a tux for a night and suffer through if it means that much to you.” He said with a slight laugh to lighten the mood. Your face changed and he had somehow made the situation worse.

“Suffer?” You asked quietly with a told of your head.

“I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. But darling, I’m saying we can get married. I’ll do whatever it is you want. Why do you still look so upset?”

“Because you don’t get it.” You shook your head. “And I’m afraid you never will.”

“What don’t I get? I don’t understand. I’m telling you I’ll give you what you want.”

“But you don’t want it too. That’s what I’m trying to say. It’s the principle, Tom. Remember how disappointed I was that one time when I said I wanted ice cream so we went to the shop but you didn’t get anything? I didn’t mean I wanted ice cream. I meant I wanted us to get ice cream together so we could eat it and spend time together. This is like that but times a million. You can’t compromise on marriage. You either believe in it or you don’t. So even if we did get married, it wouldn’t mean to you what it means to me. I would always think back to that conversation we had and remember how you really feel about marriage. I keep replaying all the things you said that day in my head. We both know how you feel about marriage and we both know it’s not something you want.”

“So that one conversation ruined it for you? Completely?” He asked.

“Yes, it did.” You answered truthfully. You stared at each other for a minute as both your eyes welled with tears. You both knew you’d reached a stalemate and there was nothing more to be done.

“So what do we do now?” Tom asked without looking at you.

“I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” You told him, making him perk up.

“So do I.” He smiled as tears rolled down his face.

“But what if that’s not enough?” You asked him. Tom froze and felt the situation escaping from him fast.

“We’ve been together almost 5 years, darling. That’s five birthdays, Christmas’s, anniversaries. You make up so much of my life. We’re exactly right for each other. It’s supposed to be you and me in the end. I can’t do this with anyone else.”

“And I can’t do this with you.” You laughed sadly and gestured to him. Tom’s heart dropped in his chest when it became apparent that this was more than just a fight.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“I think I am.” You nodded. Neither of you could believe the words that were coming out of your mouth but it was too late to take them back.

“Does marriage really mean that much to you that you’d rather break up instead of just living a long, happy life together?” Tom asked you.

“I guess it does.” You realized. He stood there in shock as you put a hand on his shoulder and brought him closer to kiss his cheek.

“Goodbye, Tom.” You smiled sadly at him and shut your door.

Another month went by and you did not come home. You busied yourself with your music and dove into your next album, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about him on midnights when you were left alone with your thoughts. Tom thought about you a lot more often, like every time he saw your face on his TV. He tuned in one night to watch you debut your latest music video of your newest song. His eyes were glued to the TV as the video opened with your back to some brown eyed actor.

“You say “I don’t understand” and “I say I know you don’t.” We thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won’t.” You sang with your eyes glued to the floor. The setting changed and you were walking through an apartment that Tom recognized.

“She filmed this on Cornelia Street?” Tom whispered to himself and sat back on his couch.

“Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light.” A smiling version of you sang as she walked though the apartment holding the hand of the actor playing Tom. The setting changed again and you were still in the room, but the lights were off and you were sitting alone in the floor.

“Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time.” You sang while not looking in the camera. The rest of the video followed in suit. You flashed between happy, golden hued memories with the actor to grey toned solo shots of you sitting alone at your piano or on the floor. The difference in the moods made Tom reminisce on the old times and he wondered how long it has been since he had made you smile the way you were doing in the video.

“Stop, you’re losing me. Stop, stop, stop. You’re losing me.” You sang while looking directly into the camera as a purple heart monitor line ran through the background behind you and eventually flatlined. Tom felt like you were staring right into his soul and realized this was the closest he’d gotten to making eye contact with you in a while. He watched the sad, grey version of yourself split from the happy version and suddenly, there were two of you on the screen while the actor playing Tom ignored them both.

“How long can we be a sad song till we were too far gone to bring back to life?” The both of you sang while Tom’s counterpart read the newspaper and didn’t look at either. He thought of the days leading up to you leaving for New York where he’d be doing exactly that, reading the newspaper to pretend to look busy when he felt you glaring at him. He wiped his face and watched as the scene changed to the three of you at a party. The sad version of you was clinging to Tom’s counterpart defensively while the other version of you yelled at him with a drink in your hand.

“Fighting in only your army. Front lines, don’t you ignore me. I’m the best thing as this party.” You yelled and drunkenly stumbled around while the rest of the party watched.

“You’re losing me.” The grey version whispered into Tom’s ear. He assumed that version represented the part of you that missed him while the other version represented the you that knew it was over. The scene changed again and this time, you were back in the Cornelia Street apartment with an open ring box in the center of the table. There was no ring inside, just a burning flame.

“And I wouldn’t marry me either. A pathological people pleaser.Who only wanted you to see her.” You said into the camera while Tom’s character threw things into a bag behind you and went to leave.

“And I’m fading thinking do something babe! Say something! Lose something, babe. Risk something. You’re losing me! Chose something, babe. I got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.” The grey version of you desperately said to Tom’s counterpart as she pulled on his arm to beg him to stay. It was like he couldn’t see her at all and just kept walking towards the door. The golden version of yourself opened the door and pointed for him to get out while the other version of you jumped in front of him and dropped to her knees to get him to stay. Tom’s character walked right through her and she faded to dust, leaving just the one version of yourself to watch him go. The music stopped and you ended up running after him, but he was already gone. You turned and ran down Cornelia Street but didn’t go back into your apartment. You just kept running down the street and turned the block so that the camera couldn’t see you anymore. The camera panned out to show the Cornelia Street sign and a violin version of your song by the same name played in the background as the street sign turned grey and faded into dust. The screen turned black and Tom was left alone in the silence.

After another month, he found himself outside your door again. He knocked on it and felt his heart pound until you opened it up.

“Tom? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you. I came to fix this.” He said simply.

“Tom, I don’t know that we can fix this.” You said apologetically. It felt amazing to see him, but it didn’t change the fact that you ultimately wanted different things in life.

“You were right. You can’t compromise on marriage. And you either believe in it or you don’t.” He began before getting down on one knee.

“Tom?” You asked skeptically as your eyes went wide. He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and opened it up for you.

“It’s your moms ring. Your dad gave it to her for the third Valentine’s Day they celebrated together in college. She doesn’t wear it anymore because it’s one size too small, so she gave it to me when I asked them for permission to marry you.”

“You asked them?” You smiled in surprise that he had done one of the things you said mattered to you.

“I did. It was a little awkward to find out your mother already knew all about our previous conversations about marriage so you can probably guess how confused I was.” He said with an embarrassed laugh.

“What did my dad say?”

“He said as long as I make you happy, he’s proud to have me join the family.”

“See? No one’s giving me away to anyone. We’re just creating a bigger family for the two of us.”

“I see that now. I see a lot of the points you made. And what your dad said got me thinking.”

“About?”

“All I want is to make you happy. Which is different from agreeing to things I don’t want to do to appease you. I do want to watch you walk down the aisle in a dress that’s been in your Pinterest board since you were 13. I do want to plan the seating arrangement and introduce my weird friends from college to your weird friends from college. I want to plan the entire thing because that’s something we can do together, and those are my favorite things to do.”

“What about the ceremony? And the marriage license? You don’t want those things.”

“I didn’t at first.” He admitted. “But after actually thinking about it and reevaluating the opinion I formed before I ever even had a serious relationship, I realized I feel differently. You make me feel differently. I would proudly sign my name next to yours on a marriage license. Because I happen to think our names look pretty good together. And as for the ceremony, I know we can’t compromise, but we can collaborate. It doesn’t have to be a huge blowout party. It can be the best elements of the both of us. And we can plan it together.”

“That all sounds very lovely, but it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t believe in marriage just a few months ago. Am I really supposed to believe you’ve truly changed your mind? What if this is just some grand gesture to win me back that you end up regretting?” You asked him.

“I will never end up regretting promising my love for you in front of our family and friends. I’ll never regret hyphenating our names so that everyone knows I’m a part of a duo. I’ll never regret choosing to legally attach myself to my vets friend and spend the rest of my life with her. But I can tell you with the utmost assurance that I would regret letting you walk away and become a name I wince at for the rest of my life.”

“You felt differently not too long ago.” You quietly reminded him. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you couldn’t fully trust it.

“I changed my mind. I realized somethings are more important than other things. And that you’re more important than anything.”

Your skeptical expression turned into a coy smile as you slid your hand into the one that wasn’t holding the open ring box.

“You never actually said the words.” You told him, making Tom break into a relieved smile.

“Darling, would you make me the happiest man-“

“Eh. Try again. Too cliche.” You cut him off. Tom smiled and shook his head, knowing you weren’t gonna make it easy.

“My love, I don’t want to spend another minute as just your boyfriend.” He tried again.

“Lame. Thumbs down.” You shook your head and pointed your thumb down.

“Would you do me the honor-“

“Yawn.” You interrupted.

“Will you just marry me, you annoying brat?” Tom groaned.

“Tom! I thought you’d never ask!” You gushed over dramatically and put your hand over your heart.

“Is that a yes?” Tom asked as he stood up.

“I have to think about it. I don’t know if marriage is for me.” You shrugged as he slid the ring onto your finger. You looked down at the ring and remembered the time you tried it on as a little girl and how it didn’t fit your finger until now.

“Yes. I will marry you.” You smiled as you looked back up at Tom. Tom broke into a grin and scooped you up to spin you around.

“Sorry I wrote all those emo songs about you.” You said into his ear, making him laugh.

“It’s okay. It’s what you do.” He couldn’t stop smiling as he set you down. He then pulled you in for a long kiss to make up for all the time you were apart. When you pulled away, he pulled your face back towards him with his hands to kiss your left cheek.

“I see you.” He said, then kissed you right cheek.

“I choose you.” He continued, then kissed your forehead.

“I love you.” He said, the kissed your nose before looking into your eyes.

“And I know you.” He told you. You smiled softly and nodded your head.

“You do?” You asked him. “You really know me?”

“I do.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey

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@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

[live-laugh-legolas]

hii!! so your previous crush-post (xD) was so. cute! may I ask for some more romantic fluff and the Fellowship (and Faramir and Arwen, if it's okay?) proposing to the reader?

I added pictures of what the rings might look like because I have a Pinterest addiction and figured I could put it to use

How the fellowship proposes (+ Faramir & Arwen)

Aragorn:

-To be completely honest, I don’t see him being particularly traditional about it

-And by that I mean he doesn’t make a big thing of it and doesn’t do the whole kneeling thing

-I imagine him proposing just happens in a loving conversation that is pretty casual

-But honestly every conversation with him feels kinda intimate so it’s still very romantic

Legolas:

-He is restless

-He plans it to be thought out and to give a little speech

-But it just kinda comes out

-Not in an awkward or rushed way; but he is just so in love he can’t wait any longer

Gimli:

-Actually shitting himself

-I really think he would have planned to propose on multiple different occasions but got too scared and chickened out

-It’s not because he isn’t sure about it, or thinks you won’t say yes; he just wants it to be perfect

-He covers for his anxiety with a forced confidence that is frankly adorable

-Blushes profusely

Boromir:

-Very traditional

-I’m talking secluded paradise with rose petals and candles everywhere

-He spares no expense; no he’s not extra…he just wants to show how much he loves you…that’s it

-Down on one knee giving a honorable and sweet speech about how you are the best thing in his life and how he will spend eternity loving you

-Definitely gets a little emotional but for the most part he keeps it together (the same cannot be said for your wedding)

-He had Faramir help him find a ring because I refuse to believe Boromir knows anything about fashion, let alone jewelry

Frodo:

-He’s a bit restless, but in a giddy sort of way

-He’s just so excited about the idea of marrying you that he isn’t even thinking too much about the proposal

-He knows you will say yes

-I could also see him putting the ring somewhere you will find it; maybe on your pillow, and hide in the next room all giddy like a little kid as he waits for you to find it

-This is what my dad apparently did and I think it’s cute

Sam:

-Ok I know I said Gimli is shitting himself; but this guy is actually having the squirts

-But he’s nervous because he gets very down on himself at times and he worries you might say no

-Logically he knows you will be so excited because you have talked about marriage before; but he can’t help but worry

-Doesn’t take you anywhere too fancy; he keeps it kinda casual but romantic

-Maybe in the garden

Merry:

-He has had this planned for months

-He has one of his friends distract you for the day while he sets up a romantic picnic dinner

-Like a surprise party that you are kinda expecting because the person getting you out of the house is kinda sus

-But it’s so sweet and Merry is dresses so nicely

-Seriously a dapper little hobbit

-He has practiced some speeches to Pippin, but he doesn’t end up doing any of them

-Instead he opts for just a natural conversation that is sweet and to the point

-Big expensive gem

Pippin:

-He has been pretending to propose for a while

-Well not really pretending, but you know it’s not his official proposal

-That being said every “proposal” he does comes with some sort of offering; he once did it with your dinner plate

-All his fake proposals were to have some fun with it, but mainly to get over his nerves; he’s practicing

-Will continue to fake propose even after you are married just for the fun of it

-Likes to see people’s reactions (plus maybe get a free cake slice at a restaurant or something idk)

-I wanted to add a joke picture of a tiny with three plastic carrots but alas you are only allowed 10 pictures apparently so just imagine I did a funny thing

*Bonus Faramir

-He is just the sweetest and I love this man

-He seems like the type to propose pretty early on in a relationship

-Not because he’s rushing, but he just knows you are the one

-Surprisingly calm about it; or at least he appears that way

*Double bonus Arwen:

-She is probably the most confident of them all

-She is just so sure spoken

-She makes sure you both are dressed in your best clothes and will take you to a beautiful secluded place in Rivendell

-Idk why but I felt strongly that the gem would be blue

-(sorry hers is short, I wasn’t particularly inspired idk why)

——————————————————————-

Just a little reminder that Gandalf isn’t included because I don’t generally write him for romantic prompts unless specifically asked

[lcandothisallday]

Wedding Season - Jack Harlow x f!reader

Summary: Jack is invited to an old friend’s wedding and he’s been convinced by his friends to bring the girl he hates as his plus one.

It was a rather chill summer day for Jack. He had gone to the studio earlier in the day which allowed him to have a relaxing rest of the night. So that’s where he was now, chilling in his living room of the apartment he shared with Urban while the both of them ate the takeout they ordered.

Earlier in the month, both boys were invited to an old high school friend’s wedding back in Louisville and neither one of them had the heart to say no despite their busy schedules. Now there was only a couple days until the wedding and Jack felt like an absolute loser for not having a date.

“You bringing anyone to Colton’s wedding?” Jack asked Urban before he scooped up a mouthful of mashed potato to eat.

Urban couldn't help but smile. “You know how I started talking to Nia again?” Jack nodded, showing that he was listening as he chewed. “Yeah...invited her as my plus one...gonna try to make things official with her after the wedding,” he explained.

Jack groaned, “fuck outta here, man. You letting me ride solo on this one?” he half joked in question. Urban only shrugged with a laugh. “Not my fault you ain't got anyone at the moment...or you know...you could always ask y/n to be your date,” he suggested cautiously. 

Upon hearing that, Jack scoffed. “Bro--y’all gotta stop bringing her up I swear,” he muttered. “We have never and will never get along,” he persisted arrogantly.

“She’s Nia’s best friend--”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Jack asked in annoyance. “You just want to get on Nia’s good side but I’m the one that’s gonna end up suffering.”

Urban furrowed his brows before he scoffed. “You’re so fucking dramatic bro. I don't even understand what happened for you to hate her so much,” he tsked. “It’s like you were in love with her one minute during high school--wanting to ask her out for junior prom-- and the next you hated her guts. But whatever man. If you wanna be the hottest rapper out there and still not be able to cop a date then that’s up to you,” he shrugged.

Jack rolled his eyes before he let out a defeated sigh. “I’ll think about it...but no fuckin’ promises,” he mumbled.

__

You stood in front of the mirror, staring and picking apart your appearance in the dress you had chosen for Colton and Grace’s wedding. It was an outdoor wedding and so you dressed in a simple silk-like dress that hugged your body perfectly and the colour complementing your beautiful and glowing skin. Despite knowing you looked good, you couldn’t help but be nervous.

“You need to stop picking apart your look,” Nia spoke up matter of factly, noticing your nerves, as she applied her gloss. She looked absolutely stunning as well, her dress choice also being the most perfect look for her. Urban was going to be hella impressed to say the least.

You let out a sigh. “I’m not I’m just--I don’t understand why Jack asked me to be his plus one,” you frowned. “I feel like it’s some cruel prank,” you mumbled, smoothing down your dress anxiously. 

“Well I mean people change,” Nia pointed out. “So give it a chance. Maybe this is him trying to make amends,” she offered, ever the optimist. “Now come on! We’re gonna be late!” she exclaimed, grabbing hold of your hand before the both of you stumbled out of the apartment with your heels clicking behind you.

As you arrived to the venue, you were in complete awe of the setup. It was beautiful--from the grand archway, down to the details in the flowers that stood as centrepieces on each table. 

You took in a breath as you scanned the venue, noting how you were met with familiar faces from your high school days. “This...is gonna be a long ass day. I can already tell,” you whined, your friend humming in agreement.

“There’s Urban,” Nia breathed out with love struck eyes, causing you to giggle. “Ooooh your man looks good,” you teased, causing her to blush madly. “Shut up,” she mumbled while still blushing. “He’s not officially my man...yet.”

When Urban finally set eyes on you and Nia, he started approaching with Jack dragging behind him reluctantly. Truth be told he was nervous. He hadn’t seen you in quite some time and the last time he spoke to you, it was full of hostility.

Urban immediately pulled Nia aside, whispering in her ear and complimenting her in all the ways he should, leaving you and Jack standing alone.

“Hey,” he mumbled in greeting. “You uh...you look nice...I guess.”

You smile awkwardly and begin to anxiously play around with the rings on your fingers. “Thanks. So do you.”

As the night progressed, the tension between Jack and you seemed to linger in the air. Despite the polite exchanges and forced smiles, there was an underlying current of animosity that couldn't be ignored. It was as if both of you were tiptoeing around a minefield, waiting for the first explosion to occur.

After dinner, the DJ started playing a slow, romantic song, and couples began to take the dance floor. Nia and Urban shared a loving glance before swaying together, lost in their own world. Feeling a mix of discomfort and curiosity, you and Jack found yourselves standing near each other.

Jack cleared his throat. “Do you want to dance?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not really,” you responded quietly, causing Jack to audibly scoff. “God you’re such a bitch,” he muttered, running his hands through his curls. “I don’t know why I’m even trying.”

Your eyes widened as you took full offence. “I’m the bitch?! Oh I’m sorry for not wanting to dance with the guy who’s always been an asshole to me! If I remember correctly--you’re the one who blocked me out of the blue!”

“Don’t act like you don’t know why y/n.”

You scoffed. “Actually why don’t you enlighten me because I don’t remember ever doing anything to you to make you hate me so much! I liked you and I thought the feelings were mutual—”

“They were until I overheard you telling your friends you thought I was ugly and that I was stupid for trying to pursue a rap career,” he mumbled.

Hearing that made your heart sink to your stomach. “Jack,” you sighed. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” you say softly. “Because I didn’t actually mean any of that—”

“Then why did you say it?” he asked, his voice quiet and almost quivering. “I really fucking liked you and I know I always played it off like I’m a confident motherfucker but that crushed me.”

Your heart absolutely broke at hearing his confession. “Oh Jack—I only said that because Tina was a bitch and she noticed you and me getting closer and she started saying that someone as likeable and popular as you wouldn’t romantically go for someone like me. She also said that the two of you had started hooking up and it wasn’t long before you would’ve started dating so I had to back off and the only way to protect myself in front of her was to make it seem like I never cared about you from the start,” you explained softly.

“She’s a liar. I never fucked around with her like that—”

“Yeah well how was I supposed to know?! She was the blonde skinny popular white girl—and I was me—I guess it just made sense to me,” you sighed.

Jack groaned, “well that was up to me to decide don’t y’a think? God—I just wish you would’ve just told me or something.”

“Yeah well can’t change the past now,” you muttered sarcastically under your breath but loud enough for him to hear.

Jack licked his lips in thought before a small smirk started to make its way onto his lips. “You’re right…but we can definitely influence the future,” he hummed, taking your hand and pulling you onto the dance floor.

The slow romantic song was still playing so he took the opportunity to take both your hands and place them on his broad shoulders before his own rested against your hips, leading the dance with gentle sways.

Your cheeks were on fire at the entire interaction, but you welcomed it easily, thankful that he was the one that was able to take charge.

The both of you swayed in silence, you choosing to look anywhere but his eyes while he stared intently at you, loving the chance to admire you up close.

“Jack…I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” you whispered, the guilt eating you alive.

“I don’t think I stressed enough earlier how beautiful you look,” he mused, looking down at you with his charming smile.

You can’t help your own smile making its way onto your lips. “Jack.”

“Y/N,” he mocked back teasingly.

“I was being serious!” you laughed.

Jack rolled his eyes playfully. “Isn’t it obvious that I forgive you already?” he asked with a raised brow, his hands giving your hips a squeeze.

You shrugged. “Just want the confirmation.”

“If you let me kiss you would that be enough confirmation?”

“Yes,” you whispered timidly, a blush overtaking your cheeks.

As the words left your lips, Jack wasted no time in closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. And then, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you melted into the embrace, the animosity of the past melting away with every lingering touch. The world around you faded into the background as Jack deepened the kiss, his other hand finding its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and with flushed cheeks, Jack rested his forehead against yours, a contented smile gracing his lips. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

A genuine smile spread across your face as you looked into his eyes, seeing a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "I wish I had been honest with you from the beginning," you confessed. "But I promise, I'll make it up to you."

Jack's smile widened, and he brushed his thumb gently across your cheek. "I believe you," he said softly. "We both made mistakes, but we can start fresh--starting with a proper first date?"

“I’d like that a lot.”

[canirove]

The Nanny Diaries | Chapter 9

Author’s note: First of all, I just want to say thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has read and supported this story. Like I said when I published the first chapter, this was something I wasn’t going to post because I wasn’t happy with it, so the fact that so many of you have liked it, is a very welcomed surpise 💜

Also, sorry about it being so short compared to the others I post. I tried to think of ideas to make it a bit longer, but they all seemed repetitive and I didn’t want to force it and ruin it, so it is best to leave with an ending that I am happy with.

Again, thank you very much for reading, and keep an eye on Chilly’s tag or my blog for a little Christmas surprise next week 👀

Previous chapter 

Masterlist

"So you are dating, right?" Alice says while we drive to pick her wedding dress.

"I don't know" I shrug.

"How can you not know? You've been going on dates for a month now, are constantly texting or calling each other, checking how you are feeling and talking for hours, when you are free you go to his house and have sex on his piano..."

"That has never happened and you know it."

"Fine, not on his piano but I'm sure you've done it all over his place already. You are dating."

"We aren't. He hasn't asked me to be his girlfriend, and I haven't asked him to be my boyfriend either."

"Then do it. What are you waiting for? You like him, don't you?"

"I do, yes. A lot."

"Then ask him to be your boyfriend. You can do it at my wedding.”

"What?"

"Take him as your plus one. I want to see him wearing a suit in real life, confirm that it actually is as powerful as you always say" Alice says with a big grin.

"You may want to ran away with him and leave Rose standing at the altar."

"Never. Rose is my one. And by the looks of it, Ben is yours. If you make it official, of course."

"Alice..."

"Ask him to come to the wedding and to be your boyfriend. It's all I ask as my wedding gift."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"Isn't getting married on Valentine's Day a bit... Corny?" Ben asks while adjusting his tie.

"They met at a party on Valentine's Day. It's special for them."

"Do we have a special day too?"

"I don't know" I say while I check myself in the mirror, making sure everything is ok. "That's something couples do."

"I thought we were a couple " Ben says, arching an eyebrow.

"Maybe. But not officially."

"What does that mean?" he says, hugging me from behind and resting his head on my shoulder.

"It means that we haven't asked the other to be girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh, that.”

"Yes, that" I say while I turn to look at him, putting my arms around his neck.

"Ladies first."

"What?" I chuckle.

"You ask first, I'll start it for you. Ben, would you do me the immense honor of being..."

"I'm not saying that."

"We are at a wedding, it seems fitting" he shrugs. "C'mon."

"Fine" I say, rolling my eyes. "Benjamin, would you do me the immense honor of being my boyfriend?"

"Yes" he says. "Yes and one million times yes."

"Cheesy” I laugh.

"Only the truth" he says before kissing me. But the kiss doesn't last long, someone knocking on the door and interrupting us.

"I guess that's my cue. My duties as bridesmaid await."

"Urgh.”

“You’ll survive” I say, letting go of him.

"Wait, you lost a bracelet" he says, picking something from the floor.

"Oh, that's the bracelet Alice gave us at her hen do. Apparently, the day it falls it means that your wish has come true."

"Has that happened with yours?"

"It actually has. I have him right in front of me" I say with a big smile.

"I was your wish?"

"Yep.”

“And what did you ask for exactly?” he asks with a smirk.

“Nothing, really. I was just thinking about you and the way you make me feel.”

“Which is?”

“The fact that I just asked you to be my boyfriend should tell you already.”

“But I want to hear you say it” he says, hugging me by the waist and pulling me closer to him.

“Ben, I need to go. Alice will kill me if I don’t show up.”

“C´mon” he pouts, making me want to kiss those gorgeous lips of his.

“Ok, fine” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m falling in love with you.”

“I am also falling in love with you.”

“Really?”

“The fact that I just said yes to being your boyfriend, should tell you already" he says, teasing me.

“Idiot” I chuckle. “And I seriously need to go, or this will be the shortest relationship the world has ever seen.”

“Ok, ok” he says, letting go of me. “But before you go...”

“Ben...”

“You are missing something. This” he says, kissing my cheek, my skin tingling where his lips have been. “See you around, girlfriend.”

“See you around, boyfriend."

But before I leave, I look at him one last time. He also is smiling, though this smile isn't one of his cocky ones. Or a teasing one. This one is different.

This is a sincere and honest smile, a happy one. And the type of smile you give to the person you are in love with. Maybe your one like Alice said? Only time will tell.

━━━━❃━━━━ FIN ━━━━❃━━━━

[kaitidid22]

All the Love (light Conrad/Billie, with Billie & Everybody)

Summary: Leela and Devon are getting married. Billie is dealing with egomaniacal surgeons. And everybody wants Jessica (in their OR). (Canon-friendly to date & set post-season 6.)

A/N: I had so many AO3 tags on this one.

All the Love

“Three days to go,” Billie said brightly as Leela walked into Billie’s office.

“Don’t remind me,” Leela said, but a smile was hiding behind her haggard expression. “We still have a million things to do, and the caterer apparently no longer makes one of the appetizers we ordered. How does that even happen? We ordered it six months ago. So, we’ve been debating mini crostini versus mac and cheese balls for almost twenty-four hours.”

“Mac and cheese bites?” Billie asked, startled. 

From what she knew of Leela’s fusion Roaring Twenties in Bollywood theme, fried balls of mac and cheese being passed around the reception seemed a bit… off.

“Exactly!” Leela shook her head in disbelief. “Devon is insisting. For the kids, he says. We’ve invited, like, five children. Arjun and Elijah, who are barely eating solid foods. One of our cousins has a baby. And Gigi and Sammie, who are both in the wedding, and the only two old enough to even eat a mac and cheese ball.”

Leela groaned. “But Devon is going to win on this because I’m too tired to keep saying ‘it’s not on theme, Devon.’ Plus, he’s being so damn cute about it. For the kids! Damn him. I hate that he’s going to win. Mac and cheese? Why?”

Billie’s face screwed up in sympathy. “I’m sorry. At least they’re delicious.”

Leela gave her a suspicious look. “You eat mac and cheese balls?”

“My goddaughter is six,” Billie pointed out. “I’ve eaten all the fried foods she can get her tiny hands on. She’s especially fond of fried okra.”

Leela’s lips pursed. “Ew.”

Billie laughed. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that. They’ll revoke your Southerner card.”

“At least Devon isn’t insisting on fried okra,” Leela said, staring into the distance.

As much as Billie loved weddings—and she really, really loved weddings—planning a wedding had always sounded like a nightmare to her. She watched Leela take a deep, cleansing breath, eyes fluttering shut as she centered herself, and then Leela slapped a smile on her face and looked Billie square in the eye.

Oh no, Billie thought. Et tu, Brute?

“Anyway,” Leela said. “I need to talk to you.”

“You need a consult?” Billie asked, hoping that’s what was happening.

“No,” Leela said. “I want to talk to you about Jessica.”

You and every other surgeon, Billie thought. 

But she smoothed out her face into its professional mien and said, “What about Nurse Feldman?”

Leela’s confidence faltered for a moment when confronted with the expressionless face and formal tone. But then she rallied. “As you know, I’ve taken on the patient load that Dr. Bell would have handled. And he has been a fantastic mentor for several years.”

“Yes, we’re all relieved he’s going to continue on in a teaching capacity,” Billie said.

With the others, Billie had rushed them along—get to the point, Dr. Yamada. But Leela was a new attending, and Billie wanted to encourage her to stand up for herself and make the bold asks. So, Billie waited as Leela struggled to force herself to say the words.

Leela squared her shoulders. “I’ve worked almost exclusively with Jessica in the OR for the past year. I feel we make an excellent team, and I want to continue our partnership in a more official capacity.”

“Meaning?”

“I’d like Jessica to be dedicated to my surgeries.” After a long pause, Leela hastened to add, “When possible.”

Billie clicked her tongue. “You almost had it.”

Leela sighed, shoulders drooping a little. “I fumbled at the end.”

“So close,” Billie said.

Leela gave Billie the trademark hopeful expression that always reminded Billie of how young Leela truly was. “Well? What do you think?”

“I think you have a solid argument,” Billie said, choosing her words cautiously. “I also think that hospital policy dictates scrub nurses be assigned as shifts allow.”

Leela’s eyes turned determined, ready to fight for what she wanted. “Is this because I’m so junior? I know I only made attending a few—”

“No,” Billie said firmly. “This is hospital policy. Which was written, in part, as a protection for the nurses. They don’t report to surgeons, and they should never be put in a position where a surgeon, or any doctor, has that much control over their careers in the hospital. Bell’s arrangement was an exception to that policy granted on the basis of a career spent working with a long line of scrub nurses over years at Chastain.”

It was the exact response she had given to all of the surgeons who had come to her office hoping to poach the same arrangement with Jessica that Dr. Bell had managed to swing. What none of them seemed to understand was that Jessica had requested the arrangement. Jessica loved working with Bell, and she had made sure it had been a stipulation of her renegotiated contract that she be assigned to as many of his surgeries as possible.

Over time, as Bell had handled fewer and fewer on-call emergencies, his and Jessica’s schedules had aligned to the point that Jessica had rarely—if ever—assisted elsewhere. Until the MS flares began, and Bell had been forced to take weeks away from the hospital at a time. Then Jessica had been back in the usual scrub nurse rotation, assigned as cases came in, and all the surgeons had gotten a taste of having her in their OR. And that had only whetted their appetites.

The surgical staff had too much respect for Dr. Bell to try and request Jessica until he announced his intention to step away from surgery. Bell had kept the news under wraps for months as he slowly moved his surgical duties onto Leela, including the small practice of regular patients he had kept. 

But he had made an announcement the week before, and, unfortunately, it had become a feeding frenzy that Billie was trying to battle one ego-driven conversation at a time. A.J., of course, had made it to Billie’s office first. But the rest had soon followed.

Billie had even gone to the Chief Nursing Officer and the medical nurse manager, who supervised the entire staff of scrub nurses, to make sure she was giving the appropriate response. Billie had expected them to be upset at the surgeons’ behavior, at the subtle suggestion that the rest of their scrub staff wasn’t as desirable. Instead, both of them had rolled their eyes and laughed.

And Billie had realized that everyone in the hospital knew that Jessica was the very best, the cream of the crop. It was how she had negotiated such a stellar contract to begin with. Across the board, everyone had already been aware that Jessica’s success wasn’t just Bell’s favoritism in action. And, if there was any jealousy among the scrub team, Billie hadn’t seen any indication of it in that conversation with the nursing leadership.

But it meant that Billie had a problem on her hands. Because eventually the surgeons were going to realize that Jessica had full authority over the decision. Billie could only hold them off for so long. Surgeons were competitive to a fault and would stop at nothing to get what they wanted—because most of them firmly believed they were entitled to anything and everything under the sun. 

In short, as long as Jessica remained unassigned, the situation was a ticking time bomb.

“Do you understand?” Billie asked Leela.

Disappointment lingered on Leela’s face, but she nodded. “Of course. Thank you for your time, chief.”

Oh jeez, Billie thought at the sound of her title from Leela’s mouth.

But Leela held her head high as she left Billie’s office. And Billie felt a burst of pride for Leela.

~*~

Billie strode through the double doors that led to the emergency department and breathed in the bitter smell of antiseptic and the lemon from the cleaning products. She had a Pavlovian response to the smell now, which tended to linger on Conrad’s skin and hair until he showered after a shift. And her eyes found him almost immediately, clear across on the other side of the department, grinning down at a patient on a gurney.

But she wasn’t looking for Conrad, and she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

Her eyes checked the central bay desk first and got lucky. Jessica was standing with her husband, Irving, and Billie’s lips thinned when she saw the giant arrangement of flowers in Jessica’s arms. It contained an ombréassortment of at least two dozen red, fuchsia, and pink roses, along with a cadre of other flowers to round out the aesthetic. They sat in a beautiful, ornate vase that was wrapped in a delicate silk ribbon. The whole thing was large enough that Jessica’s body and part of her face was mostly hidden behind dense petals.

Damn, Billie thought. They know already.

“Nice flowers,” Billie said dryly. 

Jessica peeked around the bouquet, spotted Billie, and flushed slightly. Billie felt a flash of guilt but wasn’t sure how to address it. She let her eyes flick to Irving.

“Please tell me those are from you,” Billie said.

He gave her an arch look. “You think I can afford that kind of arrangement? Did you see the vase?”

“Hey,” Conrad said from behind her.

Everything inside of Billie softened and warmed as she watched him step up behind one of the other monitors in the nursing bay. She hadn’t spent the night at his place thanks to an ICU patient that had kept her in her office on pins and needles, and it had been almost fifteen hours since she had seen him. Their eyes locked, and a soft smile spread across her face. He braced a hand on either side of the keyboard and smiled back at her. 

“Hey,” she said.

“Good morning,” he murmured. “I missed you.”

“Oh my god,” Jessica gushed. “You two are just so adorable.”

“Right? This is what I’ve been saying,” Irving said.

Conrad straightened with a grin and looked back at the computer. “Did you need something?” he asked, typing.

“I have a surgery in thirty minutes,” Jessica said, still smiling broadly at the two of them. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny. "I should get moving."

“Actually,” Billie said, her attention snapping back into focus. “I need to talk to you.”

Jessica froze, eyes clearing. “Me?” she squeaked.

“Yes,” Billie said firmly.

“Is it about the flowers?” Jessica asked in a rush. “Because I did not ask for these—”

“No, I know.”

“—and the gift certificate to the spa was a total shock—”

“The what?” Billie asked, stunned.

“Honey,” Irving said quietly.

“—and I’m so sorry, Dr. Sutton,” Jessica said, still rushing through all the words. “I really didn’t mean to cause all of this—”

Billie held up a hand. “You have nothing to apologize for.” She took a deep breath and stuck her hands in the pockets of her white coat. “I’m actually here to apologize to you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Conrad’s head jerk up to squint at her. In front of Billie, Irving and Jessica both looked flummoxed.

“You’re apologizing to me?” Jessica asked. “Why?”

“The way my staff is behaving is entirely inappropriate,” Billie said. “They shouldn’t be pressuring you like this.”

Jessica eyed the bouquet. “I really don’t mind.”

Billie grinned at her. “I can imagine it’s a little fun.”

“You have no idea,” Jessica gushed.

Billie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Still,” she said gently. Then she hesitated, eyes bouncing around the busy ED. “We can talk about this in private if you’d like.”

“Here is fine,” Jessica said with a shrug. “Everyone knows everything in this hospital anyway.”

Irritation surged for a moment at the reminder. The gossip mill had bitten Billie a few times in the past. But she tamped down on the trauma-based reaction.

Focus, she told herself.

“Very true,” Billie said. “I know you have to prep for a surgery, so I’ll be as brief as I can.”

Billie’s professional tone had Jessica’s spine straightening. Irving looked suspicious and stony, as if nothing could make him move from his wife’s side.

“You are, by far, the best scrub nurse we have,” Billie said. “And that competition is fierce at Chastain.”

“Thank you, Dr. Sutton,” Jessica said, sounding touched.

“I’ve spoken with the chief nursing officer, as well as your direct supervisor. I know that they spoke with you last week about this.”

“They did,” Jessica said.

“They did?” Irving murmured to his wife.

“Yes,” she hissed back.

“You did an excellent job renegotiating your contract, and it clearly stipulates that you have control over your own schedule. You can choose your surgeries. I wasn’t aware of that,” Billie admitted. “I should have been.”

Jessica was blushing but looked pleased. The entire ED staff had edged closer, lingering around the central bay to eavesdrop while pretending to read through charts. A few patients weren’t even trying to pretend they weren’t fascinated by the conversation. “The thing is,” Billie said, pushing forward despite their audience, reminding herself that she thrived under pressure. “You’re a team player, Jessica. Not once during any of Bell’s leaves of absence did you take advantage of that clause in your contract. You go wherever you’re told, assist wherever you’re asked to assist.”

“Of course,” Jessica said, clearly flustered. 

Irving reached out a hand and placed it on her back, a smile playing with his lips.

“That’s not an of course,” Billie said firmly and calmly. Her chin was high, face serious, as she looked at Jessica. “Most people would abuse that privilege. And you’re holding proof in your hands that my staff would take full advantage of any edge they thought they might have.”

Billie heard some stifled laughter but ignored it. Jessica bit her lip against a smile and glanced at her husband. Irving’s smile had broadened to a full, proud grin.

“You’ve earned the right to choose what surgeon you’re dedicated to going forward. Your supervisor and I are in full agreement,” Billie said. “We’ll stand behind your decision, and I’ll handle the conversations with the rest of the surgical staff. If anyone gives you trouble, or gets too pushy, tell me, and I’ll handle that, too.”

Billie cleared her throat, getting to the bad news. “I know that all of this happened very suddenly,” she continued. “So, your supervisor has bought you some time to make the decision. But I do need you to make it within the month, which I think she told you last week. I’m sorry we had to put a deadline on it—”

“No, no,” Jessica said, rushing to assure. “I understand, and it’s very generous.”

Billie allowed herself a small—still very professional—smile at the other woman. “But Jessica,” Billie said. “Do me one favor?”

Jessica’s brows lifted slightly.

“Make them work for it,” she said, with a nod at the flowers Jessica held. 

She heard Conrad’s guffaw and tossed him a smile as she turned to go. Everyone scurried to look away, though she saw a few patients watching her with curious eyes.

“Thank you, Dr. Sutton,” Jessica called to Billie.

“Of course. Show’s over everyone,” Billie said as she strode back out of the emergency department.

~*~

Billie had known Leela was an artist for years. She had come across Leela’s sketchbook once back when she had been an intern and marveled over her talent before Leela had self-consciously shoved it back in her bag. But the wedding was beyond gorgeous, beyond anything Billie would have expected or could have imagined.

The ceremony took place outside in front of the famous fountain of the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. Gigi and Sammie—the ultimate flower girl duo once again—had both been covered with swirling mehndi designs from fingertips to elbows and threw magnolia petals as they danced down the path in matching red dresses with full tulle skirts.

Leela walked the aisle in a gold sari with an art deco inspired pattern with rhinestones scattered across the delicate fabric. Her blouse had cutouts at the shoulders and had jewels sewn into the pieces, heavy enough to make it drape where they wrapped around her upper arms. Devon had chosen—or, perhaps Leela had chosen for him— a gold and taupe kurta with red accenting that perfectly complemented the coloring of Leela’s sari.

Billie realized she might be biased, but she wasn’t sure she had ever seen a more beautiful bride. Nic, of course, but that had only been in photos—one of Billie’s biggest regrets. Leela practically glowed, and Billie was fairly certain Devon was crying during the vows.

Following the ceremony, the guests were allowed to wander through the gardens until the sunset cocktail hour. Sammie and Gigi had stuck to Billie’s side like glue, and she had walked them through most of the exhibits. Conrad had tagged along, fingers entwined with Billie’s as she patiently answered questions and looked up information on butterflies and flowers. Sammie had calmly taken everything in with her bright, quick gaze, and Gigi had flounced along beside her, stopping to twirl in her dress over and over.

“This is a fantastic wedding,” Billie murmured to Conrad, as their small group left one of the massive orchid exhibits.

“Devon and Leela know how to throw a party,” he murmured back.

The reception tent had been fully enclosed during the ceremony, and the flaps had been pulled back only once the catering team was ready to seat everyone for dinner. Gigi and Sammie had gasped loudly as they all stepped inside. 

The far end of the tent opened directly into one of the Gardens’ hot houses, and a dancefloor was set in the middle, with all the tables lined around the perimeter. Sets of beautiful, gauzy red draperies came down from the ceiling, gathered around golden lanterns that hung from high above them and burnished everything in a warm glow.

“Do I pay them too much?” Kit muttered.

Billie and Conrad choked back laughter as Bell rolled his eyes. “Kit.”

“I’m kidding,” she insisted. “Mostly.”

At dinner, Billie, Gigi, and Conrad were seated at table number four, with Sammie, Kit, Randolph, Jake, Gregg, Irving, and Jessica. It was the perfect group. Billie wasn’t really in the mood for strangers. Not at Leela and Devon’s wedding. She had enough trouble making conversation with strangers on a normal day, let alone when she felt so emotional, warm, and fuzzy.

They spent most of dinner laughing, with Gigi and Sammie keeping them all entertained. Padma, A.J., Arjun, and Elijah were seated at the family table, and A.J. kept glancing over with longing in his eyes. Conrad waved at him once, and he had glared until Gigi turned to see who her father was waving at. Then A.J. cleared his face into a pleasant smile and waved back.

The girls, of course, had become restless once they were full. After a few minutes of fidgeting, Gregg had offered to walk them through the hot house, and the trio had disappeared.

In the quiet that descended on the table, Conrad’s hand slid under Billie’s hair to curl around the back of her neck, thumb stroking her skin. She let her eyes flutter shut for a moment and soaked in the feeling. When she opened them again, Jessica had switched chairs with her husband, leaving her to sit next to Billie. 

“Dr. Sutton?” Jessica asked.

Billie turned to her with an easy smile. “You can call me Billie, Jessica, it’s fine.”

Obvious hesitation crossed the scrub nurse’s face, and Billie laughed softly. She knew the sound was light and happy, more so than it ever was at the hospital. But she didn’t care. It was an excellent night. Conrad’s fingers were warm against her skin, and Gigi was happy, and Leela and Devon were moon-eyed at their table for two in the center of it all, and it was one of those moments in life that were always so fleeting where it felt like absolutely nothing could ever go wrong again.

Billie gave Jessica a curious look. “You used to call me Billie all the time.”

“That was before,” Jessica insisted.

“Before what?”

“Before you were chief,” Jessica said, like this meant something.

Billie supposed it did, though hospital hierarchy rarely crossed her mind unless a surgeon came to her with a problem. She had been thrilled to make chief—especially so young, and especially after everything that had happened at Chastain. But she hadn’t thought it made anyone look at her any differently (other than because it gave her greater access to the purse strings). 

Most especially Jessica, of all people, who had been the scrub nurse in Billie’s OR when she made the biggest mistake of her career that gave Conrad’s patient a stroke. The scrub nurse who had warned Billie to wait for Aronson, that something was off with the patient’s levels on the monitor. The same scrub nurse that Billie had ignored and snippily told she had everything under control—when Billie very much had not.

Sometimes it still amazed Billie that she and Jessica were even friendly. Jessica had as much right to hate Billie as Conrad had.

In other circumstances, Billie could have said all of that to Jessica. She never had and probably should have at some point. But they were at Leela and Devon’s wedding, so, instead, “We pre-date that,” was all Billie chose to say.

“True,” Jessica murmured, and for some reason her eyes flicked to Bell.

Billie followed the gaze and found Kit and Bell watching them. “I’m all ears on this,” Bell said.

“Same,” Kit said.

“What’s going on?” Billie asked, looking between the three of them.

“I was hoping to ask your advice,” Jessica said quickly, pulling Billie’s attention back to her.

“My advice on what?” Billie asked.

“On my decision.”

“Oh.” Billie straightened in her chair, and Conrad’s hand fell away as he leaned forward, elbows finding the table. “What about it?”

Jessica looked down at her folded hands, and Irving’s hand came over to cover his wife’s. “I wondered what you would do… if you were me?”

Billie’s brows rose, and she looked back at Bell. He shrugged and said, “She already has my advice.”

Billie nodded once and licked her lips. “Well, I think the first thing we have to acknowledge is that this decision isn’t final. Meaning, if you chose a surgeon and then decided you hated working with them, we could move you again. You’re not going to lose your value, Jessica. You’ll always have that leverage. For lack of a better phrase,” she murmured.

Jessica nodded, eyes studying Billie as she absorbed the words.

“The other piece of this is that you don’t have to choose to dedicate yourself to anyone,” Billie emphasized, and Jessica’s eyes dropped back to her hands. “You’ve already displayed the agility to move between specialties. If what you wanted to do was stay part of the rotation, then we would absolutely support that. If what you want is to move into a training position, or if you were interested in a management track, then we would make that happen. I hear you’re an amazing mentor to the scrub staff.”

Billie put a hand on the table and leaned forward to catch Jessica’s eye. “I don’t want you to think that your career will ever be determined by a surgeon. Any surgeon. You have many, many options. And none of them are going away.”

“Thank you,” Jessica said. Her eyes flicked to Bell again, then she pulled a hand free from Irving’s grip to stack on top of her husband’s.

“Beyond that, if you did choose…” Billie trailed off. She thought for a moment, all the faces of her surgical staff flipping through her mind like flash cards. “I don’t know, to be honest. We have so many talented surgeons. General will have the most varied cases, but Leela is young and inexperienced. She doesn’t have much pull yet in terms of shift hours. Trauma will have a good load with a lot of variety, but the hours are unpredictable.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Cardio is an exciting field, always evolving, but James mostly does small procedures. And a lot of them,” she said dryly. “He has twice the surgical load of any other surgeon on staff.”

“And brings in more money than God,” Kit added. “Bless him.”

“I’m trying to entice Jake back to lead our plastics team,” Billie said, with a sly glance at Bell’s stepson.

He looked down shyly. “You flatter me.”

“But so far no dice,” Billie admitted on a sigh. “And you’ll need to make a decision long before he returns.”

“If I return,” Jake said.

“Before he gets back,” Bell said. Kit smacked him on the shoulder, but Jake just chuckled.

Ignoring his wife’s very physical admonishment, Bell asked, “What about neuro?”

“Ah,” Billie said with a humorless smile. “Neuro is hard. Emotional. We see a lot of death. Sometimes the patients have to be awake, and we rely on the scrub nurses to keep them calm. We only cut when we have to—more so than any other specialty—but that means it’s almost always dire when we hit the OR. But it also means that it can be the most rewarding discipline.”

Jessica nodded slowly, hesitantly. “I know.”

Billie offered Jessica an understanding look. “And, back to cardiothoracic, A.J. is… well… A.J.,” Billie said with a shrug.

“No, thank you,” Jessica murmured. As the others stifled laughter, she added, “He’s wonderful. Outside the OR. Inside he’s… frustrating.”

“That was so very diplomatic,” Billie said, with approval. “Well done.”

Conrad laughed and slung an arm over her shoulders. He squeezed her close and kissed her hair before letting go.

“That covers most of our rockstars,” Billie said, slightly flustered from the public display of affection—as well as the sappy looks they were receiving from the rest of the table. “But, most importantly, you still have three weeks. Take it. There is no wrong decision here, which makes it harder.”

Jessica smiled, eyes studying Billie for a while. “Thanks, Dr. Sutton.”

“What is it?” Billie asked, curious at the searching look on Jessica’s face.

Billie followed Jessica’s eyes as they flew back to Kit and Bell, wondering what she was missing in this conversation. There was clearly some sort of subtext floating around that Billie wasn’t privy to. 

But she was surprised to find the older couple watching Billie herself. Randolph was leaning forward, elbows on the table, fingers laced together, with a small, almost sad smile on his face. Kit had slipped an arm through his and was resting her chin on his shoulder, silent support.

“We can talk about it on Monday,” Jessica said quietly.

And Billie, always aware of and respectful of boundaries, nodded. “Whenever you’d like. My door is always open.”

~*~

Later—after the sun had set, and the music had started, and the tables had been cleared away quietly in the background—Billie tilted her head to the side, fingers fiddling with the delicate necklace she wore every day. Her eyes were glued to Devon and Leela where they swayed on the dancefloor, foreheads pressed together. Leela’s hands rested against Devon’s chest, and his were locked together at the small of her back.

That’s love, she thought, a soft smile on her lips.

Devon and Leela moved out of Billie’s line of sight, other couples filling in the gap. Irving and Jessica talked softly together. Kit and Bell were laughing—because they were always laughing—and Jake and Gregg were kissing gently. Even Padma and A.J. had each brought a twin to the dancefloor, swaying them gently to sleep. There were other couples, strangers, but Billie only had eyes for her friends.

Friends, she thought with a wistfulness that made her throat clench.

Billie had never had many friends. It had been a choice—one that she had believed for a very long time to be the best option. But even Billie had to admit that it had been a lonely one.

After the rape, she had pushed everyone away, erecting walls to keep herself safe through isolation. She had spent high school dedicating the majority of her time to studying, packing in as many AP and honors courses as she had been able to convince the guidance counselor to allow, desperate for a full ride. In her limited free time, she had also volunteered as a candy striper at the local community hospital as soon as she had been of legal age to do so—and had nearly been fired for her attitude within the week. Fortunately, the nurses had loved her because Billie had been efficient and capable and never said no to any task. She had proven herself invaluable. And, so, she had stayed all through high school.

She had, essentially, ensured she had been too busy for friends.

Over the years, after they had reconnected, whenever Nic had pushed Billie to open herself up to people, Billie had resisted, saying that one real, true friend was all she needed. Nic had always been enough. But the reality had been that the only person in the world Billie had trusted was Nicolette Nevin.

Until Conrad. But he was a whole other, complicated story with many a twist and false ending.

But, that night, she looked around a beautiful, warm, burnished red tent filled with people she loved and couldn’t finish counting all of her friends on two hands. She tried to blame Conrad, to tell herself that she was accepted because he had drawn her into the folds of his life. But that simply wasn’t true. 

Kit had become one of Billie’s favorite people, thanks to her giant heart and butt-kicking swagger. They went for drinks at least once a week, just the two of them, to vent and dish and laugh. Billie and Kit had taken Gigi on a spa day a few weeks before. It had been one of the best days of Billie’s life. Hands down. Full stop.

Aside from Leela and Devon, Kit and Bell had become one of Billie and Conrad’s favorite couple friends, joining them for dinner a few times a month, sometimes with and sometimes without Gigi. They even dragged Jake, Gregg, and Sammie along if they were in town, which they were more and more often in recent times.

Billie and A.J. were solid. He had become like an old brother, despite the fact that she was technically his boss. Because when A.J. loved, he did it with the whole-hearted commitment he did everything he was passionate about, and, so, Billie had never doubted his support and fondness. A.J. even trusted her to watch Arjun and Elijah—and he had fired three nannies already over small transgressions like not using the candy thermometer to check the milk—having dubbed her Super Auntie Billie to the boys.

She and Jake had bonded over a mutual love of their little ladies, as well as jazz, Billie’s secret obsession with romantic comedies, and the difficult fight they had both faced as brilliant young surgeons of color in fields that were still aggressively and predominantly white. Gregg had come along for the ride in that friendship, but he and Billie texted every so often, usually when they had made a parenting blunder, or one of the girls had said something so embarrassing it was hilarious.

Billie had a feeling she might be winning Jessica over, too, if their recent conversations were any clue there. And Conrad had laughingly told Billie that Irving had been her loudest supporter in the emergency room, rooting for Billie and Conrad to face up to their connection long before Conrad had known that Billie had feelings for him.

Even she and Cade were finding common ground. And that presented its own challenges, but they were navigating—

Her thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched, blood curdling shriek that filled the tent: “Aunt Billie!”

Several people jumped or grabbed at their chests in Billie’s peripheral vision as she frantically spun in a circle, trying to find Gigi. She spotted her goddaughter standing with Sammie—who looked absolutely scandalized—off to one side of the tent. Billie was relieved to see that Gigi looked completely and totally fine and whole and unscathed.

Still, Billie hurried over, reaching Gigi and Sammie right as Conrad came up from the other direction. They met each other’s eyes—the last vestiges of panicking lingering in both pairs—just as they both reached for Gigi, who slid a hand into each of theirs. Billie resisted the urge to run her fingers over the little girl to look for damage, despite her eyes telling her that Gigi was fine.

“Sammie is going to be in another wedding,” Gigi said to her father and Billie without preamble, stressing every word like it was gospel.

Conrad’s lips thinned as he tried to smile at his daughter. “Bubble, what did we tell you about indoor voices?”

“But we’re outside,” Gigi said.

Technically, that was true, and Conrad floundered for a moment.

Billie took a swing. “Remember the checklist?”

“Of course,” Gigi said, sounding impatient. “Is there fire? Is there blood? Is it an emergency? This was really, really urgent.”

Sammie hid a giggle behind her hand.

“At least you thought it through,” Billie said, trying to give Conrad an encouraging look. 

She’s trying, she said with her eyes.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. Uh-huh.

They both turned back at Gigi and Sammie as conversations resumed around them. “Another wedding,” Billie said to Sammie, mentally catching up. “That’s so exciting.”

Sammie grinned at them.

“She’s not even going to be a flower girl this time!”

“Inside voice, Bubble,” Conrad murmured.

Gigi’s brow furrowed as she looked at the tent again.

Billie asked, “Did they decide to make you a junior bridesmaid?”

Sammie and Gigi looked at her in awe. “You’ve heard of it?” Gigi asked.

Billie heard Conrad stifling a chuckle. “Of course,” she said, with the appropriate reverence. “It’s a really important job. Congratulations, Sammie.”

Sammie blushed, looking shyly at the ground.

“I wanna be a junior bridesmaid,” Gigi said, her voice dangerously close to a whine. Then she lit up and turned back to Sammie. “I bet your dress is going to be amazing. You’ll look so beautiful. Can we go?”

“We can’t invite ourselves to a wedding, sweetie,” Billie said.

Gigi’s face fell.

“I’ll send you pictures,” Sammie promised.

“Can we help her pick it out, Billie?” Gigi asked. “Please?”

For Devon and Leela’s wedding, Billie had been tasked with taking the girls shopping for another round of flower girl dresses. This time, both Kit and Leela had tagged along. All the women had agreed it was far more satisfying than buying dresses for themselves.

“Sweetie, she’s probably not going to get to pick it out this time,” Billie told Gigi gently. “Bridesmaid dresses are usually chosen by the bride.”

“But Aunt Leela came with us this time.” Gigi pouted. “And she was the bride. We still picked them.”

“Before we get too far ahead of ourselves, let’s not forget that this wedding isn’t over yet,” Conrad said, with faux sternness. “And your flower girl duties have not yet ended.”

The little girls giggled, and warmth pooled in Billie’s chest.

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to get out on that dancefloor,” Conrad ordered.

The girls cheered and ran off. Their tulle skirts bounced around them, and the crowd parted to let them through.

“Well, that was easy,” Conrad said, watching them go.

“Seriously,” Billie said.

After a moment, Conrad asked, “Was that too easy?”

“Probably,” Billie admitted. “Gigi’s going to bring up those dresses again, I can feel it.”

“Who knew I would have a fashionista for a daughter,” Conrad muttered. “She’s going to need a bigger closet.”

“Says the guy who has more jewelry than I do,” Billie teased.

Conrad’s head whipped around to her. “I don’t have that many accessories,” he said on a laugh.

She smirked. “You have never met a leather cuff you didn’t like.”

“Hey.”

“Aunt Billie,” the DJ said over the speakers. “You are needed on the dancefloor.”

Titters of laughter spread through the crowd. Billie felt her cheeks heat, but she cleared her throat and looked out over the groups of dancers. She spotted Gigi and Sammie near the DJ booth. The girls waved, beckoning her to join them.

Before she could take a step, an arm slid around her waist. She leaned back against Conrad’s chest, and he pressed their cheeks together. 

“You’re not coming?” she asked.

“You go ahead,” he said. “I need to talk to Kit.”

But he didn’t let go, and she felt her smile widen. “You know,” she murmured. “Gigi asked if she could spend the night at the hotel with Sammie.”

“Really?” Conrad murmured back. “That is a very interesting idea.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’ll go talk to Jake,” Conrad said, kissing her cheek.

“I thought you needed to talk to Kit,” she pointed out.

“Priorities. Jake then Kit.”

~*~

A little over a week later, Billie stepped off the elevator and into the emergency department, looking around with a concerned frown. She had been paged, but there had been no details or patient information. 

As usual, the ED was a flurry of activity. She saw Conrad’s blond head through the sliding glass door of one of the trauma bays. A.J. and James were both with him, likely still answering each other’s pages whenever they managed to intercept a summons, as they continued to compete for the small set of cases in which their expertise overlapped. Cade was in another bay, speaking softly to a patient. No one looked like they were waiting for her to arrive.

Billie narrowed her eyes as she looked around, unsure where she was supposed to go. Then a curtain flung back, and Irving walked towards the central desk, pulling off his gloves. Billie made a beeline for him.

“Hey,” she said, as they both reached the desk. “I was asked to come down.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Well, good morning to you, too,” he said, but he didn’t sound particularly bothered. “I don’t know who paged you. Let me check.” He started to type into one of the computers and frowned. “I don’t see anything about a neuro consult in here.”

“Sorry!” Billie heard behind them. She turned to see Jessica hurrying towards the desk. 

“That was me,” Jessica said. “The page. Sorry.”

Billie turned to her as Irving gaped at his wife. “That’s all right. What can I do for you?”

“Everything okay?” Cade asked as she came out of one of the trauma bays and spotted Billie. Cade glanced around with a deep frown, clearly trying to figure out which of the patients needed a neurosurgeon. “Did we page you?”

“I did,” Jessica said.

“You did,” Cade repeated in surprise.

“I made my decision,” Jessica said.

“Already,” Billie said, surprised. “You still have two weeks.”

“I know,” Jessica said.

“Decision?” Cade asked. Then her face cleared. “Oh, about the surgeons.”

“You heard about that?” Irving asked. Then he shook his head. “Why am I surprised?”

“Everybody heard,” Cade said, grabbing a new chart out of the intake box. “At least three people told me about it.”

“Billie practically held up a boombox outside Jessica’s window,” Hundley added as she walked past.

Cade laughed lightly and flipped open the chart to scan it. In the quiet as Cade read and Hundley sauntered over to her next patient, Billie turned back to Jessica. 

“Would you like to go somewhere private?”

“No,” Jessica said. “This is fine.”

From behind Billie, she heard, “Did I miss it?” and turned to find Bell and Kit walking into the department. 

Billie’s jaw dropped open. She had known Bell felt especially close to Jessica, but she thought this was a bit unnecessary.

“I already know her decision,” he told Billie with a smile. “Funny thing is, she hadn’t thought it was an option. I told her it was.”

“You always have to take the credit,” Kit said, with a fond smile.

“Not always,” Bell said to her. “And hush. I’m listening.”

Kit snorted.

Billie frowned. “Didn’t think what was an option?”

One of the trauma bays slid open, drawing Billie’s eyes as Conrad, James, and A.J. filed out of the room. Conrad spotted the small crowd at the central desk and walked over with a hesitant expression.

“What’s going on, everybody?”

“Jessica made her decision,” Irving said. “And a small army of surgeons has descended on my ED.”

“Your ED?” Cade repeated, lightly but firmly.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Irving said, not sounding sorry at all. “I out tenure you.”

“Fair enough,” Cade said.

“I’m not sure that’s a verb,” Kit murmured to herself.

“I have no idea,” Billie said to Conrad, answering his original question. “Kit and Bell came out of nowhere.”

“We asked to be here when she told you,” Kit said.

“Told me what?” Billie asked, prompting everyone gently.

Jessica looked nervous. “I thought about what you said at the wedding. And I really appreciate all of your advice.”

“Happy to give it,” Billie said.

She could feel the entire ED watching them. Again. She could feel James and A.J. edging closer, and she suspected they were each trying to put themselves in Jessica’s line of sight.

“Do you remember two months ago?” Jessica asked suddenly. “You were debulking a tumor on an eight-year-old girl, and I scrubbed in with you.”

“Leilani Cartwright,” Billie said immediately. “Of course. That was a hard surgery.”

“But successful,” Jessica reminded her.

Billie smiled, feeling triumphant all over again. “Her prognosis is good,” Billie said. “I spoke with her oncologist last week. It looks like the radiation is shrinking what we had to leave behind.”

“That’s great,” Jessica said, in a rush. “But what I meant was… do you remember what we listened to?”

Billie’s smile turned rueful. “The Moana soundtrack.”

“For four hours,” Jessica said, pointedly.

Confused, Billie nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Because you had asked Leilani what her favorite songs were, and she said Moana.”

Billie blinked. “Studies show that some patients are still able to hear what’s happening around them, even with general anesthesia. We think it might be more prevalent in children because of how elastic their brains still are.”

“So, you always ask the patients what they want to listen to,” Jessica said.

“I didn’t know you did that,” James murmured.

“That’s smart,” A.J. said, thoughtful.

Billie looked around the crowd, confused. “If they can hear, I want it to be something they find comforting.”

Jessica nodded. “You’re the most brilliant surgeon we have on staff.”

“Hey now,” A.J. said.

“And you’re lovely to assist,” Jessica said to Billie, ignoring him. “And, as the chief, you’re able to scrub in on any surgery in the hospital that you want. You’re even required to during probationary periods or if we grant guest privileges to a surgeon.”

Billie was very aware that she was an incredibly intelligent person. And she felt very stupid in that moment for not realizing where Jessica had been going with all of this sooner. The looks exchanged with Bell while Billie had given her advice. The eagerness on Kit’s face. Irving’s supportive touches. It all made sense now.

“I want to work with a surgeon who cares enough to ask a patient what their favorite song is,” Jessica said sweetly. “Just in case.”

“I see,” Billie murmured. “And you’re sure?”

Jessica nodded. “If you’ll have me.”

“Like that was ever a question,” Billie said, brusque. “We’ll have to meet with your supervisor to make it official. But welcome to the team.”

James stepped forward with his lady-killer smile firmly in place. “Now Jessica—”

“It’s over, James,” Cade said, in her usual blunt way. “Let it go.”

James sighed, but his eyes danced as he nodded in concession at Billie. “I suppose the best surgeon won.”

Billie raised an eyebrow at him. She opened her mouth to remind him that Jessica’s career was not a competition. But A.J. stepped forward with a generous expression. 

“I support this,” A.J. said, as if he hadn’t been hoping Jessica would choose him at all. “I think this is the best possible outcome.”

“As do I,” James said.

“Says the man who bought her a spa package,” A.J. muttered.

“Didn’t you offer to upgrade her car?” James asked.

The men exchanged tense looks. Then they both forced laughs as they turned back to Conrad, who watched them with an openly amused expression.

“About my patient—” A.J. began.

“Our patient,” James said smoothly.

“You two are enough to give aspirin a headache,” Conrad said. “I don’t know how Billie puts up with you.”

“You have no idea,” Billie said, dry.

Irving turned to Jessica. “He was going to upgrade our car?”

“Oh, Irving,” Jessica said, rolling her eyes. But, as the crowd wandered away, Jessica smiled excitedly. “I’m going to go add myself to your schedule.”

“Sounds good,” Billie said, but Jessica was already rushing away.

Kit and Bell followed as Billie strolled from the ED. “You really didn’t know?” Kit asked.

“I had no idea,” Billie admitted.

In her mind, Jessica still only saw Billie as the fifth-year resident who had destroyed someone’s life in her own arrogance. It had never occurred to her that Jessica would ever see past that, even with all the promotions and honors and accolades Billie had earned in the meantime.

Bell put a hand on Billie’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re the best chief we’ve ever had here at Chastain,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said that to you.”

Billie’s chin came up as she shoved down the emotions. “Thank you, Randolph.”

Kit reached out and hugged Billie without a word. Then she slipped her arm through Bell’s and led him away.

Billie watched them go, sliding her hands into the pockets of her white coat. When someone touched the back of her arm just above the elbow, she knew without looking that it was Conrad.

“Congratulations,” he said, keeping his voice down in the busy hallway.

She didn’t know why he bothered. Everyone knew they were dating. Apparently, there had been a betting pool on it, even throughout his relationship with Cade. She thought that was a bit disrespectful, but mostly she was just glad A.J. hadn’t won the pot. He never would have let her hear the end of it.

“It’s nice,” Conrad said.

“What is?” she asked, finally looking at him.

“Seeing you get all this love.” Crinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes. “You deserve all the love in the entire world.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” Billie said.

“What?” Conrad asked, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She shrugged with a small smile, feeling peaceful inside. “Having friends.”

Something flashed across Conrad’s face, too quick for Billie to catch it. But his eyes darkened as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her.

“Billie Damn Sutton,” he whispered.

 She pulled back slightly to look at his face, laughing a little. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, and kissed her.

[bookishtheaterlover7]

And the way they do it is mighty impressive to me. Plus, they win points for the shade. // while TMZ may be doing shady shit pertaining to this shitshow and it alludes to this definitely being PR….

tMZ still ain’t shit!

They released Kobe’s death publicly knowing his family hadn’t been notified yet.

They always have to be the first to release things and they do so by getting info in the most grimy way.

They were the first to confirm Michael Jackson died and they did that by doing shady shit to get the confirmation just so they’d be the first official publication to release the news.

Don’t be fooled by this mess, TMZ is grimy asf.

But again that does show they know shit about this mess in reality and I agree with marketing anon, I peeped how they and many others put “reportedly” on every publication talking about these two getting hitched.

I’m sure TMZ is aware in the slightest that his fans don’t believe this mess is legit and it’s a failed pr stunt as anyone can send TMZ information anonymously and I’m sure many fans have asked them to search for the marriage license or they may have did that in their own.

Since I believe this to be PR, I can only imagine that when it’s officially ended, TMZ will have a future post of …..”Captain America star, Chris Evans was never legally married” or some crap and proof that there’s no documentation or pics.

It’s a reason the following happened:

“Reportedly married”

Chris stated he had two “ceremonies”

Chris and her have NEVER stated the other’s name anywhere publicly.

Chris was not listed on any official 2023 wedding list although he was one of the biggest celebrities to tie the knot last year.

One major publication even made an entire separate article with about four or five other male celebrities who got married just to be able to add Chris, because they couldn’t add him to any official list because he’s not married and due to legality reasons. But the fun fact was every other guy listed was included in the official 2023 celeb wedding lists and had pics to prove they legit got married, all except…… Chris Evans.

The simple fact every single person claiming to have attended or were listed as guest at the wedding(s) had something to promote within the weeks or months afterwards.

The fact people kept randomly inserting the wedding in thins that had nothing to do with Chris.

The fact NDA was mentioned so no one can question why there were no details about the wedding. (Imagine people who they claim attended having make up stuff and talking to the media about two events that didn’t actually happen, the storyline would have fallen apart so it’s easy to just go ….oh there are no pics or talk about the details of the wedding because of the NDA clause.

The fact they keep pushing these two with numerous articles yet claim they are so “private” helps with the narrative of …..why don’t we see them often when in reality neither one of them is around the other unless pertaining to his ridiculous stunt.

Many more things have happened to show this is fake but I was just giving examples. I thank marketing anon for providing facts and being logical in their approach because we’re all 💯% on the same page, this is some bullshit they keep trying to sell and one has to wonder if the train will eventually crash or some to a full compete stop and when. 😂

Ooh damn... It does go beyond that...

But that article would be a dream come true... Honestly. Like Jesus, reading that at some point would feel like ASMR videos, or blackhead extraction videos. So damn satisfying. 😆

Don't worry, N🫶nnie. Let's hang in there. Eventually it will. Until then. Let's enjoy the view 😉 and thank Marketing An🫶n. Because she should be given a lot of credit 😅

And we'll get through this. We just need to hold on.

[spurgie-cousin]

i’m getting married eight months from today! we are doing a very intimate ceremony in our backyard with just two friends as witnesses plus photographer and another close friend as the officiant. i’m excited but also nervous about offending people by not inviting them. how big was your wedding? any tips or advice just in general?

Congratulations!! 🥳 honestly I wouldn't worry about offending anyone, if you guys just want a small intimate ceremony there's no good reason for them to get offended. You should be able to do what is most comfortable for you.

We had bt 150 and 200 people I think which may not sound huge to some, but personally I would've been happier with way less. At the end of the day I let my family invite whoever they thought should be invited and I wish I would've just gone with my gut. Honestly my wedding day was kind of a blur and I had like, panic attack level anxiety for days before and after.

So yea my best advice is listen to your gut and do exactly what you think will make you and your spouse the happiest!! If people have an issue with that, that's their problem and they're being selfish to make your day about themselves.

Also, make a list of any chores that need done during the day and assign them to those coming, like decorations moved or food brought out, who's opening the champagne and passing out glasses, etc etc,. Especially little things others might not think about, that way you don't have to worry about bossing people around on the day of lol. You can also pick your bossiest friend attending and give them a copy of the list to make sure everything gets done if there's a lot of things on it (if you don't have a planner, otherwise that's they're job).

I hope your day is amazing!! 💕

[nerdynatreads]

 ☆☆YouTube | Tumblr | Instagram | Storygraph ☆☆

book review || ARC Reading Vlog -- Something Wild & Wonderful by Anita Kelly & The Plus One by Mazey Eddings

~Thanks to Netgalley for providing a digital ARC of The Plus One in exchange for an honest review. ~

wow, okay, I see you Mazey Eddings, starting this book off with a bang when Indira walks in on her boyfriend with another woman.

I knew this was fake dating, which dissipated pretty quickly, and a smidge of enemies to lovers, but was not aware that Jude was Indira’s older brother’s best friend, and I think that’s really the main trope this book should be sold as. It doesn’t feel like they hate each other, just that they bicker a lot. We see their relationship improving as they begin to react more maturely toward one another pretty early on. Indira can tell something is off with Jude and is doing her best to be there for him in difficult times without pressing, which leads to some very sweet and intimate moments between them— cuddling and handholding. Though sexual tension has also taken a jump after Jude ends up walking in on Indira after a shower. And holy shit, when they finally collide, it’s hot and heavy, only for things to become that much more entertaining when they remember this is supposed to be a fake relationship. It just gets better when we finally reach the smut. It’s spicy but also has some fantastic lines around Jude’s mental health. And the smut just gets spicier!

There are a ton of therapy positive discussions since Indira is a therapist and also is working through her own therapy as well. She’s trying to process her abandonment issues as well as her struggles with working as a therapist when she doesn’t feel qualified due to her own issues not being resolved. I’m definitely feeling like Jude could probably benefit from some therapy as well. His POV is a lot more difficult to read, as he constantly feels on the edge of a panic attack and is suffering from PTSD due to his work in active war zones and dealing with the loss of patients while working as a surgeon. I love that Indira tries so very hard to be there for Jude, but doesn’t want to be his therapist, she just wants to be somebody he trusts enough to talk with. She stands up for him when he folds because he doesn’t want to be perceived as not normal, which nearly made me cry at one point, I won’t lie.

I did realize that part of why I enjoy Jude’s personality so much is because he reminds me of Josh, but he’s also just so smitten with Indira, and every time we see more of that, I just swoon harder. However, it did feel like we lost that personality in the latter half of the book. His chapters were completely revolving around his PTSD, making him feel more one-note. Truly, what has me so obsessed with these two though, is the emotional intimacy and tenderness they show toward one another. The way each of them is there for the other at some deeply personal and emotional moments is so sweet, making their romance feel so authentic that I didn’t bat an eye at an “I love you,” when they’d only been dating a month.

I would like a little more from Collin, Indira’s brother, and Jude’s best friend, but what we’ve seen so far of him is cute and funny, plus I actually believe these three must have grown up together. Eddings was smart enough to include little moments here and there to reinforce these three’s previous relationship, but also some adorable bigger moments, like when Indira collects her things from her ex’s apartment and Indira and Jude look through some of her childhood diaries where she complains about him, thus bringing up sweet memories. However, there is this ongoing tense discussion between Collin and Indira when it comes to their father which did grind my gears but also feels like it’ll have a pretty predictable resolution once we arrive at the official wedding.

The ending… was fine? It’s as though Eddings realized she’d set up all these additional side plot elements that she forgot would need wrapping up after the wedding ended. So the last three chapters were really odd in terms of pacing, with multiple time skips and quick wrap-ups, that just felt really rushed and weren’t given the time for me to really enjoy them. Especially in regard to the epilogue. We see a little bit more of the friend group this series has followed, but it just wasn’t a satisfying send-off, unfortunately.

[uncleasad]

Busy day at the ol’ keyboard today!

This afternoon, after updating my notes about Lizzie in the Hosie Roman Republic AU, I started writing the timeline-related/backstory portion of Alaric’s introduction (I know, I know) and got 585 words down, about half to two-thirds of what I have planned for his intro.

This evening, I happened to catch a couple of the relevant episodes of the source/inspiration series for The One With Hope’s Wedding (one I hadn’t seen recently and one I hadn’t seen for a long, long time), so tonight I reread the entire fic so far, cleaned up a few things, added some others, decided to let some things diverge from the source…and made brief notes for a tiny Hope & Josie scene in the first part of the fic 😏 I think the scene will help make the subsequent plot threads make a little bit more sense—plus everyone will be happy to see Hope and Josie interact before the latter half of the fic 😂 (Also, Lizzie got a good line 👍) And that fic is now officially over 10K words 🎉😳 at 10,212.

(Whoa! I can write on two fics on the same day 🤯 At least once.)

In all of the (my!) excitement over the gladiator Hope/Roman Republic AU these past few days, I missed the 1-month anniversary of starting to write The One With Hope’s Wedding on the 4th. In my mind, that was going to be a quick little fic that might take me a week or two to write, maybe 2-4K words or so 😂 I don’t feel as bad about still being in the writing phase a month later knowing it has cracked 10K words—if it were published today, it would rank as my 4th-longest in terms of words 😳

And I don’t know what day this streak of writing at least a few words a day on a fic began, but I’m pretty sure I’m over two weeks now 👏 I do hope I can switch fully back to The One With Hope’s Wedding and get it finished soon; I have one kinda-angsty but boring-to-write scene with Josie to finish, and then comes the good stuff into the end 🎆

Fingers crossed.

[fuckyouozai]

Man now I can’t stop thinking about Bumi being the first of the Gaang kids are born because Aang and Katara have one conversation about how Yes it would be Nice to have a family (aang wasn’t certain at first because the grief of his people is so heavy and he’s scared of projecting that onto a little baby airbender). And a few months later, i keep thinking it’s AT zuko and Mai’s big official fire nation royalty wedding, katara is like AANG. UHHHHh

They probably are like oh shoot should we speedrun getting married. Should we tell everyone we got married in secret. [aang voice] should I make you a betrothal necklace [katara voice] I already have a necklace should I make YOU one. Aang explains air nomads actually didn’t have a marriage ceremony anyway so they can always tell that to gran-gran see if she’ll accept that excuse

They keep it a secret and sokka and suki are like👀 until we get a classic misunderstanding moment where katara takes her brother outside and is like sokka…..aang and I are…. And he’s like oh NO I KNEW this would happen. You guys I know things feel different now that we’re all grown up but I KNOW you two were made for each other- and she has to go we’re not breaking up! We’re! Gonna have a baby!

And sokka naturally freaks tf out he’s Sooooooo happy!! He’s gonna be an uncle!! Katara thought he might also be put off by the fact they’re not married but sokka drinks respect woman juice every morning and is like marriage is a patriarchal institution of ownership over women’s bodies anyway! And suki is like yeah! What he said! Or sokka is like WAIT!!! YOU CANT GET MARRIED!!! And aang is like [oh no] why not?? And sokka’s like. I’m the firstborn!! You’re not allowed to get married before me!!! And katara is like BOO then why don’t you ask suki already! And sokka can sulk

I would want them to travel back to the southern water tribe for a marriage ceremony except by that time it’s been a few months and katara is starting to show but fortunately big bulky South Pole parkas can help with that! But then idk. Papa hakoda walks in on her getting ready or something and [sees tummy]. But he’s just so proud and happy for them!!! He loves aang so much!!!

Then they can go on a journey to some of the air temples with sokka and suki and talk about cleaning them up and maybe restoring one so they can have a part time home there. Southern air temple seems most obvious cuz it’s closest to the water tribe, but I also think aang may find that difficult because of all the memories. Plus there’s something a little beautiful about leaving gyatso there untouched as a monument to the strength and power of the monks

Eastern and northern are too messed up, so maybe western air temple is where it’s at. I imagine zuko would offer to help rebuild since it’s relatively close to the fire nation, but that’s aang’s call of course. Anyway naturally katara goes into surprise labor early and aang and suki help her thru it while sokka just holds her hand and pats her forehead lmao. Baby Bumi! I still don’t know why he’s named after Bumi it seems so silly. If anything give us baby kuzon to memorialize the reconnection of the nations and end of the war (extra points if he’s an airbender but I do kind of like first baby being a nonbender)

Anyway the point is. 22yo aang and 23yo katara roll up to the fire nation with a baby strapped to aang’s chest and are like HELLO and zuko and Mai are like :O

Bumi just gets to be surrounded by all his uncles and aunties and absolutely spoiled by all of them until Izumi eventually comes along 3-4 years later. At which point katara and aang pop out Kya

I stick to what I said, I like sokka and suki never having kids. Not for lack of trying! It just doesn’t happen for them and that’s ok. They continue to be the cool uncle and auntie. Tho if sokka becomes chief and has no kids, it would fall to katara or her children afterwards, tho if you consider that sokka is explicitly identified as a peasant rather than a prince or anything it’s very possible that hakoda was in fact Chosen by the village vs inheriting it. So that’s not an issue. The southern water tribe chooses Democracy lol

It would be funny if Mai and zuko only had one kid tho. Or maybe Izumi and then 15 years later a baby sister, like Mai and tomtom. Meanwhile Lin and suyin are within 2 years of each other and both about kya’s age. I like to think there’s a fairly big gap between all 3 kataang kids. Maybe 5-6 years between Bumi & Kya and 4-5 years between Kya & tenzin. That feels about right based on that one pic of them. (Perhaps that is not a Fairly Big gap but my siblings and I are all 2 years apart like clockwork)

I’m not gonna think about next gen cuz frankly I don’t care but I guess the order would be bumi, Izumi, Kya, lin, suyin, tenzin, potential 2nd maiko baby. Maybe maiko was really resistant to a 2nd baby due to the whole heir and a spare situation. On the other hand, I’ve always thought of zuko having a big family. 5 maiko kids would be great except that I can’t do that to poor Mai. And I do like the idea of aang and katara having the most kids out of the whole group. 2nd maiko baby can be Lu ten actually yes that’s perfect. Zuko asks his uncle for his blessing and Iroh is the best uncle on earth to this little baby with his late son’s name. So good!

Wait I take that back. Izumi and Lu ten TWINS!!!!!!! Izumi is 20 minutes older which is why she becomes fire lord. Also Lu ten is simply not interested. Also also eventual shift to constitutional monarchy where the fire nation royal family is much like UK royal family, except less evil LOL. Yeah Izumi and Lu Ten as twins who are just a few years younger than Bumi is really good that’s what I’m going with. Those playdates are so insane

[imnosuperman12]

10.16.2022 life update

So I’m officially 4 weeks into my residency program. And so far, I’ve been loving inpatient rehab. After 1+ years of taking travel contracts with clinics and facilities that were logistical nightmares, it’s refreshing to gain a sense of structure and mentorship again. That’s something I’ll never take for granted. I mean I guess that’s the point of a travel contract right? To take on sites that no one really wants? To hit the ground running and not really stop until it’s over? Though chaotic, it’s nice to know that I can do it. That I can work with adults, see up to 12 patients in a day, and come out the other side. Though I’m taking a hiatus from travel work, I’m so glad I was brave enough a year ago to say yes to the unknown. Yes to new places. Yes to navigating places alone and finding community on my own.

Seattle itself has been such a great fit so far. It really is the best mix of a good-sized city, with access to all the outdoorsy things you can think of. I’m nervous for the upcoming winter, but at least I know the summers are worth waiting for. Hopefully by then I can invest in an inflatable paddle board and basically live on Greenlake. Speaking it to existence now, even though I know I’ll only get more busy.

The summer was a good excuse to get back into running again. It’s been years since I ran a half, so it’s good to know I can still do it. Also ran it in 1 hour and 49 min, about 3 minutes faster than I did in high school. Running will always be a part of me, and hopefully every couple years I can keep the streak going. I will say though, I do miss Crossfit. Going this past winter/spring for ~4x/week in Philly helped me get into the best shape of my life. And I’ve 100% lost all the strength that I gained since then. But during the summer, the gym was just too far away to logistically make sense. Now, even though there’s a box near the hospital, I just can’t afford it right now. Plus, knowing I’d only go like 2-3x/week make me question whether it’s worth it.

So for now, I’m settling on going the rec center at UW. Not quite the same, and I’m definitely missing out on gymnastics work. But this residency year, I gotta do what’s right for my bank account. Maybe by summer I’ll get a better sense of how my finances are and get back into it.

As far as friends go, they definitely keep me busy. It’s been a while since I’ve consistently been a part of a small group at church. In Ventura, we met monthly. In Philly, we met every other week. It just wasn’t set up that way. Now, I’m at ENCS sometimes 2-, 3-, even 4-times a week. It’s great to be a part of community, but I’m hoping I can deepen some of these friendships before winter comes. Meanwhile, my music friends are kind souls, but are hard to get a hold of consistently. And while I am getting along with my residency cohort, we just aren’t as close as I thought we would be by now.

I think at this point I’m just surrendering expectations and letting God lead. I’m grateful he’s put these people in my life, and I’m believing that while some of it will come from intentionality/planning on my part, He’ll develop these relationships exactly how He wants to.

That step of faith of where I live my life definitely informs the perspectives I’ve taken on as well. In friendships, relationships, the whole 9 yards. Like the relationship I envisioned with the guy I connected with this summer isn’t going the way I thought it was. And it’s certainly a, “we’ll see how it goes”, scenario right now. I don’t feel any bitterness or regret towards it. The season allowed me to feel feelings and listen to myself for once. And wherever things go, I’ll follow. Whether it ends up with him or someone else.

Lots of travel has been had the past couple months though! After the June Peru trip, I’ve now gone to San Antonio, Dallas, Mexico City, Houston, and Fort Lauderdale. To see family and old friends while on jury duty. To see my Rice friends again. To celebrate Nnedi’ and Reba’s weddings. I guess I really do travel a lot. And it’s unfortunately expensive. But I really do believe that right now is the time to do it. I really don’t know where I’ll be, how busy things will get, how busy other people’s lives will become. Adult friendships are tough. It means going months, sometimes years of not seeing each other. But when opportunities arise, I’m learning to fight to make them happen. Even if it means taking red eye flights, sleeping in airports, being in cities for 24 hours at a time.

This is especially true in the context of maybe one day owning a home. It’ll feel impossible, but with the income and budget I currently live on, there’s gonna come a day where I’ll have to start saying no. I will legitimately have to change my lifestyle to be able to afford a car, house, and actually be “adulting”. It’s absolutely tragic to think of, but it’s the truth.

Which just means my dreams of having a dog are just gonna have to be in the far far future. My hopes of rejoining a Crossfit gym may just have to take a pause in order to make room for a mortgage, car payments, property taxes, car insurance, home insurance, bills, more bills. AND saving for retirement, having an HSA, having life insurance.

Life is expensive. I think I might have to get a PRN job at some point. Or find some kind of side hustle (maybe teaching? Research?). It’s just rough to think about. I don’t necessarily regret pursuing the degree that I did. I do actually enjoy what I do. I do believe in what therapy can do for people (and has done for patients and families). I do envision a future of wearing multiple hats and dabbling in multiple career paths. It’s just wild to think that even after graduating, and actually making an income, that it can be this hard to live independently with a single income in a city like Seattle. AND I DON’T EVEN HAVE DEPENDENTS. If I were to decide to live here, that’s a really big factor to consider.

I don’t even regret leaving Texas and my old job. I think if I had stayed, a part of me would have always wondered what it would have been like. The grass really does always seem greener on the other side. But having grown on my own terms and rediscovered myself time and time again, I know that even if I end up back where I started, I’m not the same person that I was. I’ve lived! I’ve surfed, navigated big city streets, seen unbelievable landscapes of the PNW. None of which would have been possible if I had stayed. And thankfully, I’ve done it before I turned 30. And the icing on the cake? I’m in a residency program right now. These experiences, personal and professional, will always be a part of me. And if I do go back to Texas, I know I’ll have a community waiting for me.

But the allure of staying is Seattle is already very appealing. If I can somehow afford it, it may just be worth it. Not sure if it’s too soon to call, but if the fates align, and opportunities present themselves, I could see myself here. As happy as I was in Ventura, (no shade to Philly, because I truly truly enjoyed the charm of the city), it just didn’t have enough diversity or opportunities for professional growth that I think I need. Could I be convinced to do another travel contract out there? Absolutely. But settling roots long term? Ultimately probably not. But it will always have a special place in my heart, and I have every intention of visiting again.

So where do I see myself in a year? At this point, it’s very likely Seattle v San Antonio. I’ll be 29.5 years old. And even though I know in my head timelines are arbitrary, and you can’t compare people’s timelines, I do envision a future where I have settled roots. Where I’m actively investing in my future. But I think for now, I’m not gonna put pressure on it. I think I’ll revisit the topic next ~July when I need to look for places to live in September 2023. In the meantime, I fully intend to soak up as much knowledge and experience this residency year has to offer. I hope to further deepen relationships with the people I’ve been blessed with in Seattle. (Including reaching out to Marissa, Eric et al., etc.).

It certainly feels like a lot to process. But here’s to taking it a week/day at a time.

Exceedingly grateful for God for the opportunity.

[searchgreys]

New gawker

NEW GAWKER PLUS

(Certainly Gawker founder Nick Denton’s ever-changing whims were an elephant clearly stalking the room on this front.) When I asked what he thought of the site so far, he said, “It’s better than what I thought it would be at launch.” “Their focus is to make it really fucking good.” We both noted that most publications don’t enjoy this kind of mandate from their CEO. “This is all about patience, patience, patience,” he told me when I asked how Gawker was planning to make money. officially turned on the lights? Finnegan has hinted at potential investigative pieces the staff have in the works.Ĭrucially, Goldberg seems at least more than happy to continue the waiting game he’s played since acquiring the Gawker I.P. Would it shock you, media-obsessive reader, to learn that it’s really only been about a month since Finnegan and co. Pleasant niceties and Prince Street pizza aside (the waitstaff began circulating whole pies once the hors d’oeuvres ran out, which felt at odds with the fact that the space was maybe at 40% capacity at its busiest), perhaps the ultimate source of good vibes for the night was the sense that New Gawker still had time to prove itself. “Gawker’s been such a psychological force in my life for so long,” she said in the bemused manner of someone waiting graciously to blow out their birthday candles. Asked if it’s a lot of pressure to be synonymous with the site, she told me that she simply found it funny. “I don’t want to jinx it, but we’re having a lot of fun,” Finnegan told me later, pointing to recent posts on The White Lotus and panda babies as some of her New Gawker favorites thus far. ( Vanity Fair’s very much included.) New senior Gawker editor George Civeris, who described the new team as “a comedy writers room, but better” waxed wistful over how he used to type g into his browser and get it autofilled to Gawker. Judging by the reverential tones at hand, you’d be forgiven for assuming some were discussing a centuries-old journalistic tradition, not a website that only stopped publishing five years ago-though the media class’s obsession never really ended. As we plucked at tiny cones of french fries, Adweek reporter Mark Stenberg mused over the evening’s historic potential, or at least the chance to be “part of a journalism myth or a legend,” which prompted Terry Nguyen, of Vox’s The Goods, to inform him that he was going to sound “too corny,” which was overall par for the course for the way most of the evening’s attendees seemed to be grappling with Gawker nostalgia. On the terrace, one-time Wing boss Audrey Gelman appeared to be in deep discussion with another Times media reporter, Michael Grynbaum. The crowd was a veritable Escher staircase of New York online media. They were both soon to be joined by former Gawker writer J.K. “It needs to fill up a little.” Near the entrance, he was chatting with New York Times media columnist Ben Smith, who published the findings of his Santa cosplay on New Gawker’s potential naughty-to-nice ratio earlier this week. “I’m a harsh critic of parties,” he told me as he shifted continuously on his feet. Looking around at the clusters of media types talking quietly amongst themselves, it seemed he’d be disappointed.Įven Bryan Goldberg, founder of Bustle Digital Group, former Gawker 1.0 punching bag, and the lucky masochist who then acquired Gawker at a 2018 bankruptcy auction, seemed antsy.

NEW GAWKER PLUS

My plus one for the evening-a former Gawker editor who refuses to be named because he has grown sick of giving any other quotes about Gawker-announced he was simply here for the booze and the spectacle, the latter so often a given for Old Gawker. Between the breezy terrace, the hanging baskets of something vine-y swaying in the puffy humidity, the circulation of mini cheeseburgers and Waldorf salad bites, the resulting effect resembled less of a gossip-flush media party than that of a work friend’s tasteful wedding reception. The vibe was-as strange as it is to evoke the kind of Midtown power lunches Old Gawker might have guzzled for breakfast- swanky: Whatever intimidating holdover halo effect ye olde Gawker mythology foretold quickly collapsed into a passive appreciation for the conventionally hotel chic choice of setting. A media launch party in Manhattan, in the fall of 2021, in this economy? In these epidemiological conditions? And yet Wednesday night at the Bowery Terrace, there gathered one extremely online cadre in honor of the long-awaited official relaunch of Gawker- The Third, now helmed by its former features editor and preeminent all-hands-meeting live-tweeter Leah Finnegan-wondering if perhaps it was all a sign that things were veering a little closer back to normal again, if that’s even still the goal.

[davosmymaster]

Triggers

A/N - This should also be warning: this fic is purely self-indulgent. I’ve written some of my own personal experiences in it as both a plus-size person and what people call “a late bloomer”. I try to give as little (and general) physical descriptions as I can for the reader, so you can read it however you like and this is not specifically a plus size!reader or anything. I think many people will identify with the reader in this, but if you think it can bother you please do not read. There are no talks of body image or eating (as you can check in the warnings). I had to give names to some original characters, though, because I don’t personally like the (yourfriend’sname) thingy.

Basically, I just had this idea and had to write it. Here it is. Hope you enjoy. (If you see a typo or something doesn’t make sense, remember English is not my first language no you didn’t)

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, oral sex, p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, safewords (mentioned), dom/sub dynamics (kind of), spit kink, cunnilingus, light bdsm (i think), hurt/comfort, bullying (mentioned), fighting with friends.

PAIRINGS - Jake Lockley x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 6.4k

SUMMARY - At the wedding of one of your high school best friends, you're asked about your singleness. You snap back, revealing some painful truths. Six months later, Jake Lockley disagrees with every word you said, and makes a personal commitment to let you know how wrong you are, every day, for as long as he breathes.

TRIGGERS

One of your friends is getting married.

 You're happy for them, really, you are. They are a lovely couple. She's very much in love with him, and it's obvious by the way that he's looking at her when he says "I do" that he loves her just as much. They've been dating for five years now, and engaged for two of them.

 So why do you feel that constant ache in your chest?

Your invitation said to bring a plus one, but you don't have a partner and all your closest friends, both men and women, were already invited to the wedding. They have all brought a companion, either their significant other —most of them— or someone they are already dating but not quite. You can't help but frown at that last group, you are not sure you could cope with the instability of not knowing if you can make plans for the future with the person you love in case they decide to leave you tomorrow. No strings attached because, hey, you two were nothing.

 But you're no one to judge, not like you're doing it either way. And even if you did, they'd probably laugh it off because you've never dated anyone, and it'd be just a further embarrassment for your persona.

 In the end, you're the only one who's actually single at the celebration. You had hoped the groom brought some single friends of his. Not like you wanted to flirt with them, it was more a matter of not feeling like a weirdo; but the closest to being single you can find there is a man in his late twenties who's already filling up divorce papers, according to your friends. And that fact only makes you feel worse about yourself. He didn't come alone either, after all.

 There's one friend of yours, her name is Ava. She broke up with her boyfriend of four years like two months ago; so you sort of expected her to be in your very same situation. It wasn't a clean breakup. But she also came with someone and your eyebrows shoot up to the sky when you see her new girlfriend.

 "Who is that?" you ask another of your high school friends.

 "I think her name is Lottie," Olivia replies. "They're not official yet, though. But they've been seeing each other and she looks quite happy."

 You hum in response, wondering how on Earth people move on so quickly; especially after a four-year hiatus from the dating world.

 "I'm going to the bathroom," she announces, gently stroking her fiancé's arm before leaving the table. Her high heels dig circles on the green grass as she walks. The sun is unusually bright for a spring day in Surrey, and you hope your foundation doesn't melt before the pictures are taken. "Wanna come?" she asks.

 You nod and follow her inside.

 The first thing she does once she gets in is checking no one's inside. You had already thought that maybe she wanted to talk somewhere private. After all, you've known her for many years now and she's one of your best friends. You lock the door.

 "I just think it's impressive how quickly she moved on, to be honest," you say, because you can sense that's exactly what she intended to talk about. "Of course, I'm happy for her-"

 "What else did you expect her to do? Cry for two months?" she chuckles, although her tone is not necessarily friendly. She checks her makeup in the mirror and reapplies some of it. Yours is intact, and thank lord it is because you didn't even bring a lipstick. "You know, people don't usually waste time."

 You look at yourself in the mirror, wondering for a second if you heard correctly.

 "What is that supposed to mean?"

 She sighs audibly and puts her lipstick in her purse. Now she takes some compact powder and gently presses it into her skin. You might ask for it later. Not if the conversation goes in the direction you think it's going.

 "I'm just saying that, well- it's time to start your dating life, don't you think?" she says. "I mean, I don't want to be rude, and we've talked about this before. But we're not teenagers anymore, and you've never had half the experiences most of us had in our teenage years."

 Her words throw you off balance. She's maybe partially right, and she's touching on a subject that you're too sensitive about. She did say she didn't want to be rude, though. And she's been your friend for a while now, so you don't want to get upset right away.

 "I've had no luck," you say, leaning back on the sink and crossing your arms, not without making sure it is dry first.

 "See, that's where you're wrong," she says, pointing at you with an accusatory finger. "You're waiting for your knight in shining armour, just waiting. You don't flirt with guys, don't go to pubs-"

 "I do go to pubs, sometimes."

 She raises an eyebrow.

 "Once in a blue moon," she says, and you shrug your shoulders. It's not like you're the kind of person to go to pubs every weekend, but you wouldn't say you go 'once in a blue moon', you just have other hobbies than spending every single Saturday and Sunday of your life being hangover, but you do like partying. Plus, it's not like the guys who go there are waiting to put a ring on your finger. "What I'm saying is- you can't expect Mr Right to just appear out of nowhere, and obviously you can't have extremely high standards-"

 "So I should settle with the first person that comes my way. Is that what you're saying?"

 She chuckles under her breath, obviously annoyed.

 "I'm not saying that, but maybe you should not tell them to fuck off when said guy tries to hang out with you."

 You know exactly what she's talking about, and your blood boils. Not long ago she gave your number to one of her fiancè's friends. So it did take you by surprise when this man you didn't know sent you a text. He was nice at the beginning, which was the first two days that he texted you non-stop. He got upset for late-replying even when you told him you were busy, working, which was not a lie. Then he texted you at midnight, asking if you wanted to attend some party, and when you refused because of how late it was, he said.

 "What are you? Cinderella? You have to be home at twelve?"

 He obviously just wanted you for one thing. There's no decent man who asks for a first date at midnight, and even if you wanted to keep it casual, you wouldn't have accepted just because of the way he spoke to you.

 "Did you even listen when I told you what he did?" you ask her.

 "Yes, and I don't see why you didn't go, honestly," she answers. "You could have had a good time, danced a bit and talked to him. Get to know each other."

 "At midnight, half-drunk."

 "Yes," she almost shouts. "He could've had different intentions, but you'll never know- No, let me talk," she says, once you try to interrupt. So you reluctantly let her speak. "You can't reject everyone from the start, because no one is up to your standards, and then cry because you've never had a relationship before. Even in high school we were all flirting with guys while you stayed in the corner. Don't you think it's time to grow up?"

 By the time she's done, your jaw is hanging from your face. Half of you expected something along the lines of what she just said, but you didn't think Olivia could be that cruel; especially when she knows how much it hurts you to talk about this.

 "Are you done?"

 "I guess," she responds, putting away all her makeup.

 You bite your lower lip first, trying to regain your breath as you find yourself suddenly running out of air.

 "You've never thought for a single second that all the people you guys flirted with in high school, were the same people who bullied me?"

 She snorts, annoyed, and whispers. "Oh, you're gonna start with that."

 "Yes, I am, actually," you respond. Your teeth are so clenched that your jaw is starting to hurt. "Because while you were out there succeeding with your love life, having any guy you wanted, Ava's first boyfriend was rating me minus five in the rank of the prettiest girls at school.

 "I was always the fat friend, or the flat one. Sometimes both. Guys, even now, only get my number to ask me for your number. And in the rare occasions when guys don't completely ignore my presence while talking to you, or Ava, or any of the rest, I find out that they were only hitting on me because they thought I was the best they could hope for. And I used to fall for that, but not anymore. I've never been called pretty, or any other nice words. No one has ever bought me a shot. So stop, stop talking as if finding a semi-decent human being is just so fucking easy."

 Olivia just holds your gaze, but you can tell she doesn't believe one word of what you're saying.

 "That's your problem," she says. "You always victimize yourself, so much. And that's just bullshit. Worst of all is you believe you're doing the right thing. I really do feel for you."

 That's enough to plant a seed of doubt in your mind. But that happens later, once you're alone in your flat, back in London. At that exact moment, you don't think of anything as you just stand there, tears pricking in your eyes as she takes her purse, unlocks the door and leaves you there, completely alone.

 Luckily —or not— it's not the first time you've had this conversation with one of your friends, so you already know she's the one who's wrong. And there's nothing you need to change about yourself or the way you act. And thank God you don't, because barely two weeks later, you meet Jake Lockley for the first time. And it doesn’t take you long to meet his alters, either, and fall for every single one of them, the same way they do for you.

 Needless to say, you don't talk to your friend anymore. Not at the wedding, and certainly not after.

Six months later

You're bent over the kitchen table. Air has been knocked out of your lungs with the impact, and you're unable to regain it back as an open palm between your shoulder blades keeps you firmly pressed against the wooden board. You gasp like a fish out of water, and thank whatever gods out there that the man above you seems not to be too concerned about how ridiculous you look in that position.

 As a rule of thumb, your boyfriend Jake hates quickies. If someone were to ask him on the street what bothers him the most in this world, you're ninety-nine per cent sure he would respond 'quickies', with the most straight face anyone has ever seen on this earth. Not the London traffic, not even how hard it is to find a parking spot for his thirty feet long limousine in the city. No, what bothers him most is not having enough time to fuck you; and the worst of all is that he doesn't mince words. If someone asked him, that's his honest answer.

 That's one of the things that you both fear the most and find the most admirable about Jake Lockley. He has no shame, not one single drop of it in his whole body. He does not care a single fuck what anyone has to say about him. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't envy him for that.

 "Uhm..." he lets out a low groan from the depths of his chest.

 His other hand, the one that is not holding you in place, travels down your right leg. The pads of his fingers brush your skin gently, an almost ghostly touch as he makes his way back from the back of your knee, up to your thigh until he reaches the tender skin of your glute. All the muscles of your body tighten as you wait for a spank that never comes. Instead, Jake chuckles behind you. He relieves the pressure on your back as he uses both his hands to lift your dress, the fabric now all rolled up around your hips.

 "Oh, look at you," you hear him say.

 Not a single second later you feel the denim of his jeans over your cotton panties, his erection impossibly hard behind it, and you can't help but bite your lip and moan as he grinds himself against you. The pleasure blooming down there forces you to press your hips against him too, and you soon find yourself on your tiptoes.

 "Jake..." you groan. "We don't have much time, hun."

 He lets out an annoyed grunt.

 "Joder... (Fuck...)" he mumbles in Spanish. "I hate quickies."

 "It's the third time you say that today."

 He really does hate them. He doesn't see the point of fucking if by the time he's done you're not absolutely destroyed under him. He's that type of man; all or nothing is his motto. He doesn't know how to keep it easy. He likes the sight of round fat tears clinging to your wet lashes, even the salty flavour of them on his tongue when he kisses you. He loves to edge you, overstimulate you to the point of exhaustion and rage, until all you can see is red and he has to make you cum before you gather any strength and use it to kick him in the balls for not letting you cum sooner.

 Sometimes it's the opposite, he works your body up, plays it like an instrument that he's proficient in, dragging so many orgasms out of you that you have to beg him to stop.

 And then he laughs.

 But he cannot do all of that now. In fact, sex wasn't even in the cards for today, having in mind that you had stayed the night before in his flat and you were still sore from that session. The trails of yellow and purple hickeys on your inner thighs are the only proof of his merciless, sinful actions.

 All of that was true until he saw you all dressed up, ready to leave the flat to attend a theatre play that starts in forty-five minutes. At first, it had been even fun to watch how Jake's jaw dropped to the floor, how he kept looking and looming over you time and time again, his eyes slipping up and down your figure, taking in the black dress you were wearing. He had the look of a hungry hawk when he approached you, and you immediately knew what was about to happen.

 The left side of your brain told you not to let him, that you'd be late for the play. But then he leant in to kiss you, mouth open and his heavy tongue against your own, and there was no amount of willpower that could have prevented the scene that was about to unfold.

 Behind you, Jake kneels on the floor. He catches the hem of your panties between his teeth as he goes down. You only know it because you can feel his ragged, hot breath against your skin as he bites the fabric. Once it passes your hips, he lets them fall to the ground. Then he bites your cheek.

 It doesn't hurt, but a little cry comes out of your throat nonetheless, and without even taking a glimpse of his face you can tell that he's amused; the biggest wicked grin on his face. People hardly ever see Jake smiling, but that's only because none of them have seen him during sex.

 "Jake," your angry tone does not go unnoticed, and you're now supporting your weight on your elbows. "We paid a lot for those tickets, I refuse to be late."

 He groans.

 "Isn't there another show later?" he asks, but that doesn't stop him from massaging your glutes, his thumbs on both sides of your groin as he pulls the skin of your inner thighs aside to have a better look at your glistening folds. "...for god's sake."

 You don't know if that last sentence is directed at you, or not.

 Before you can ask he's licking your entrance, giving enthusiastic laps at your folds as he buries his face in your most intimate parts. His actions leave you breathless, fists tightly closed over the table as you hide your face between them, nails digging into the tender flesh of your palms. Your forehead rests against the wooden board, and you feel how you start to break a sweat. Desire and wet heat start to pool at your lower abdomen.

 "I asked you a question," he says then, finally giving you a second to rest. But he's not a patient man, nor does he enjoy being interrupted while he's having a meal, so he continues licking long stripes along your inner thighs, delineating the yellow and purple bruises —the hickeys— he marked you with yesterday night. You know he's extremely proud of his work of art, because he stops and kisses every single one of them.

 "No," you lie, because you know that he will have you there all night if you let him, if you give up on his desire of turning this quickie into something more. Although it doesn't look much like a quickie, to be honest. "There's no other showing, so please, Jake. Just fuck me."

 "Shut up," he says, his heavy palm smacking your thigh and you can't help but jump. "You have such a big mouth. I'm trying to get you ready, you ungrateful brat."

 And that's exactly what he does. He separates your lips with his thumbs and sticks his tongue in. You moan, louder this time, feeling the soft edges of his tongue inside of you, and you don't even try to contain any other sound that comes out of your mouth. His tongue gets in every few seconds, licking and lubricating everything in its path. Then licking long stripes, his tongue flat against your clit and rapidly moving to your entrance. Every part of you is now trembling, the shiver that takes hold of your body following his actions is violent, leaving you gasping for air as if you were dying.

 If you needed any preparation —which, with all honesty, you probably did— that is not the case anymore. A mix of his saliva and your own juices is pouring down your thighs, so if you're not ready now, you doubt you will ever be.

 "That's my girl," he says, his accent half-hidden half there. He checks his work with the pad of his fingers, barely touching you but enough to make you whine, desperately asking for something to fill you up because you're just so empty. And you need him to soothe that feeling. "Look at you, all nice and ready for my cock."

 Despite that, he licks you one last time.

 "Fuck-" you cry out loud at the contact. Annoyance is building up in your chest despite his praise. "I swear if I miss one single scene for your horniness-"

 He spanks you then, at last. It's no surprise that he does. After all, it took him long enough with how mouthy you're being with him, but it still catches you off guard. His heavy hand hits your ass without a single warning, and you scream at the contact. This time it does hurt, but it soon fades into pleasure all over your body like a sweet aftertaste to a bitter treat.

 Jake finally takes action. His hands curl around both your wrists and he spreads your arms on the table, so you have no support anymore. Next, he presses the back of your neck against the board, and it turns you on so much, being squeezed below him with such force, that you are gasping again, silently pleading for his cock.

 "I should've shoved myself in that pretty throat of yours," he said. "Maybe then you'd be fucking quiet, for once."

 And you say nothing back, because you know he's perfectly capable of keeping his word: cum in your throat, then leaving the rest of you untouched as a punishment. And you don't think you'd be able to handle that, go through almost three hours without any kind of relief until you get home.

 "Nothing to say now, uh?"

 With otherworldly swiftness, he sheds his jeans. You hear the loud click, the indistinct sound his belt makes when he unbuckles it and gets rid of it. Then the sound of the zipper, loud and clear: it's a warning. And now you know that he's holding it, heavy inside his fist while he strokes himself; precum coating the tip. When you try to look back to have a look, the hand that is still holding your neck tightens on your pressure points and you feel like a deer with its neck between the lion's teeth. All you can focus on is your own wetness. Your hips go backwards in search of friction.

 "So fucking needy," he hisses. "Don't worry princesa. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

 You feel his hand on the back of your knee, but this time he grabs it and scoops you up on the table. With the new position, you're wide open under him. So much so that a blush settles over your cheeks as you feel the cool air on your wet flesh.

 Still, you're not given much time to think.

 He hits your clit with his cock, twice; before entering you with a deep thrust until he bottoms out. His hips are pressed against your butt. Your fingers close around the edge of the table, holding on for dear life. Your nails dig on the wood until you feel splinters falling off.

 He groans.

 "So tight. Always so fucking tight."

 While you try to adjust to the burning, pleasing sensation that has your brain melting; Jake's fingers find the zip of your dress. He unzips it, slowly, revealing the naked skin of your back and no bra in sight. The hand on your nape travels down your back, caressing all skin he can reach, until he touches the skin over your ribs, making you shiver, just to shove his hand under you and catch one of your nipples. He pinches it, hard, until you finally scream. Half pleasure, half pain.

 "Such a beautiful sound," he says. "Let's hear it again, shall we?"

 He rolls his hips back, mercilessly thrusting into you with such force that the table moves an inch forward. He keeps your leg on the table, your knee flexed over it. His hand falls on your ass for the second time, a bright red handprint now adorning it. He grabs your flesh, massaging it so he can have a better look at where you two are joined. That’s what it takes him to gasp.

 "Joder.”

 "Jake..." you moan.

 It's like he lost his mind. He starts with a rapid pace, relentless, not even giving you time to build it up as you go. He's holding your hips and not even minding that the screws of the table are doing the weirdest of sounds. He must not even care if he breaks it. He bottoms out with each thrust, every freaking time.

 You've always known that he becomes feral when you moan his name, but it's not like you do it on purpose. You just love the sound of it leaving your mouth, his warmth against you, his perfectly sculpted body, his chest against your back as he leans in to whisper something in your ear.

 "Tell me how it feels."

 Your eyes are squeezed shut, trying to take him as best you can. He slows down, not much, but enough to at least let you breathe, even though he is now squeezed against you. His teeth nibble on your earlobe.

 "Tell me," he encourages you. His fingers brush both your arms lovingly. "Be a good fucking girl and talk to me."

 Another thrust.

 "J-Jake..." you breathe out. Another. "Good. Baby, it feels so fucking good."

 "Tell me how much you love my cock"

 You notice that he's trying to guide the conversation, tell you exactly what he wants to hear because you're too cockdumb for dirty talk.

 "I love your cock so much," you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. "So much... so much..."

 He stops thrusting for a second but doesn't pull out. Quite the opposite, he is as deep in you as it is humanly possible. He chuckles under his breath, leaves a kiss on your spine and you feel him smile against your flesh.

 "My princess cannot even talk, uh?" he says. "Don't worry baby, I got you."

 He takes a handful of your hair in his fist. He pulls your head back, the action earning a loud cry that is soon muffled by a kiss. His other hand rests on your collarbone, making its way up until the pads of his fingers rest over your pulse points. You know he can feel your quick heartbeat under his fingertips.

 His mouth leaves yours, and you're instantly complaining with a whine. Even if he's just one inch away from your lips.

 "Open," he whispers, still holding your neck. You obey, parting your lips, and Jake spits in your mouth. The pleasure makes you clench around him. "Swallow," you follow his orders, and he squeezes your neck so he can feel the muscles moving under his touch. "That's my good girl."

 There's a stupid grin on your face when he says it, warmth in your chest when he pecks your lips as a reward. It's almost impossible to believe how your body can have physical reactions to his words, even without one touch of his. It's ridiculous how much you love to please him. That's usually how the sex with Jake works: he gives you orders, you obey, he calls you his good girl.

 You love it.

 He pulls your head back into the table, returning to the same pace he started with. His cock fills you up to the brim, as if you were the finest glass of wine. You're not even sure you have enough air in your lungs. But you're not scared by that, Jake is so aware of every single sound and movement you make, that if he thinks you need a break, he will give it to you, exactly as he just did a second ago.

 Then, through the maddening cloud of pleasure that has settled in your brain, you hear it. You hear it coming from him.

 "You're so pretty," he says. You instantly feel the lump in your throat. "You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

 It's not the first time he says it, of course not. He even said it the first time you met him, even if you didn't believe him at the time. The thing is he has said it before, so you don't understand how you simply shut down like a toy that has run out of batteries, how your body goes limp.

 You don't want to ruin the moment, even if it feels like you're going through an emotional storm all of a sudden. All the memories fill your mind like an avalanche, including every single word at that wedding not long ago.

 That's how you decide that maybe, if you close your eyes, you'll be able to retain the tears long enough for them to fade. So you do, while Jake keeps thrusting into your senseless body. His hand on your hair weakens, but he doesn't seem to notice, and you thank that the position doesn't allow much eye contact.

 But then he says it again.

 "So pretty right now," he says. "Dios (God)," he growls. "I can't believe I got you."

 The lump in your throat doesn't let you breathe, and that's when you burst into tears. You cry, because you never once thought in your life that you’d have someone like him in your life, let alone telling you how pretty you are. You sob and feel so immature right then and there, like a child crying for the silliest reason you could think of. In a desperate attempt at concealing your view from him, you bring one of your hands, the one that is closest, to your face, while the other falls by the edge of the table.

 Jake stops immediately.

 "Baby?" he asks, his voice low and full of concern. "Baby, baby, hey..." his hand barely touches your shoulder, trying to get your attention, but all he feels is the trembling of your body as you cry. He pulls out slowly. "Did I hurt you? Shit, did I hurt you?" his voice turns angry, angry at himself, but he keeps the composure for you. "You should've said the safeword, baby. Please, you have to tell me..."

 By the tone of his voice, the way it breaks on the last word, you know he's barely hanging out of a thread. He caresses the skin of your shoulders. One of his hands tries to uncover your face as you sob. You struggle against him, but he's stronger and once your hand is out of your face, he holds it down, his fingers intertwining with yours.

 "Babe..." he whispers. "Tell me where it hurts. If it's that bad we can go to the hospital, you don't have to be embarrassed..." he says. "I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've noticed," then you hear him whisper to himself. "Soy un maldito imbécil. (I'm a fucking asshole.)"

 He leans to kiss your shoulder, then he rests his forehead against your warm skin.

 "It's not that," you respond. Your voice is barely a whisper. Tears are still pricking your eyes, some of them still falling down your face. "I'm not hurt."

 That catches his attention. Jake brushes the baby hairs out of your face and now you can see him. Tears are about to spill from his eyes, but he doesn't let them. He's frowning, confused, and his calloused hand rests on your hair.

 "You are not?"

 "I'm sorry I scared you."

 "Oh, nena, (Oh, baby girl)" he says, and leans again to kiss your temple. "Don't say that, don't apologize. Just tell me what's wrong."

 Despite all his attentions and not wanting to keep him worried about you, you hesitate as you look into his deep brown orbs. It's not that you don't want to explain it to him, but you don't know where to start. Where does one start to explain something that has always been present in your life? It's as if someone asked you how you learned to breathe. Well, it was just there.

 Jake patiently waits, until your eyes focus on him and he knows you're not thinking about the matter any longer. The more you think about it, the way you've been treated, all the situations and how worthless they made you feel; the more your eyes fill with unspilled tears.

 "Stay here, okay?"

 You didn't notice he was caressing your back until his touch vanished. Once he's gone, your mind starts to race, to call you names and think way too much about how annoyed Jake must feel for your sudden outburst of emotions. You bring your hands to your face, suddenly overwhelmed by the mess you've made.

 You stand on the floor, and it's not until then that you feel the pain in your hips, exactly where they hit the table with each of Jake's thrusts. The soreness is so familiar that you can already see the bruises that will mark your skin tomorrow.

 "I'm such a fucking idiot," you press your palms against your face, angry that you couldn't just keep yourself quiet.

 Jake comes back from the bathroom with a wet cloth and he doesn't say a word before kneeling right in front of you. You spread your legs to give him access, wondering what you did to deserve such a kind man.

 He cleans you up. The cloth is drenched in warm water. He cleans you thoroughly, with a care and gentleness you rarely see in his actions. You hold the skirt of your dress up to let him work, and he looks up at you just once, his eyes as big as a puppy's, just before he leans down and kisses one of the hickeys on your thighs. Once he's done, he takes your panties and pulls them up your legs, as if he had never touched you.

 "Thank you," you whisper once he's standing back on his feet.

 Jake shakes his head and brings you closer. He hugs you, your chin resting on his collarbone as he pulls your hair over your shoulder so he can zip the dress up.

 "All ready," he says, still holding you. His hand rests on the back of your head. "Come on."

 He takes you to the couch, where he sits first just to drag your body over his lap. Once you're sat, he surrounds your back with his arm as you hug him. Your forehead resting against his. Jake closes his eyes and breathes in your essence.

 At first, you don't know where to start, and the first few sentences don't feel quite right either. However, he doesn't flinch, so you keep going and all of sudden you can't stop. You start with the wedding, telling him about your group of friends even though he has already met some of them. You explain the whole situation as you look for a reaction on his face. Annoyance, probably, because you didn't let him finish for something that happened right before you met him; or disappointment; because he expected something much more serious than something along the lines of 'I was never told what you just said to me'.

 Then you explain the situations you saw yourself in. You tell him about the pain and the hurt hoping he understands, about the disrespect too. You tell him about all the times you were straight-up ignored, about the guys that only approached you to keep you busy while their friends flirted with your friend and they wouldn't even talk to you. You talk about being called a prude, people insulting your appearance and your hobbies, calling you weird. You tell him about that constant feeling you had, not feeling enough or loveable, just a laughing stock for both strangers and every single one of your friends. Maybe the very last option on someone's table, in the best of cases.

 That's when he shakes his head.

 "Half the time I feel so lucky to have you," you say, tears still staining your face. "That I wonder if you're real. When you kiss me, I remember how I used to think I'd never be able to show my love to anyone."

 "Oh, nena," he whispers. You can see the pained expression on his face. "I'm so sorry all of that happened to you." you can see the struggle in his eyes. He's looking for the right words to comfort you. He’s never been good with words. "But I'm here now. And I assure you, I'm gonna give you all you deserve, and all the experiences you never had. All of them are wrong, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. It's their fucking problem if they cannot see that."

 He holds you close, speaks over your hair.

 "You're wrong, you're not unloveable. And you will never be alone again," he says. "I'm gonna tell you how pretty you are until the day I kick the bucket, I swear to God."

 "Jake," you pull away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "Don't say that."

 "But I mean it," he insists. Then, he squints. "I'd like to see any of those fuckers that mistreated you and..."

 "Oh, stop," you chuckle.

 "Yeah, yeah, I stop, but you tell me if by any chance we run into any of them..."

 "So you can choke them to death? Yeah, maybe I will," you respond, and his shoulders relax, glad about your answer. "Not sure if I should be concerned about how serious you are right now."

 Jake chuckles, and you end up laughing too. His eyes sparkle when he looks at you, and he keeps stroking your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

 "Te quiero, preciosa (I love you, gorgeous)," he says. And even though your Spanish is very limited, you understand those words, because he has said them plenty of times before. "Come here."

 Gently taking your chin, he guides you to his mouth. He pecks your lips at first, right before his other hand falls on the back of your head and pushes you against him. His lips part, his tongue gently licks your own. He makes you moan. His forehead rests against your collarbone when he's done. He breathes in through the nose, as if he could swallow you whole just by inhaling you.

 "So... are you not angry at me?" you ask.

 "Why would I be?"

 "Because I ruined our moment."

 "No, you didn't," he says. He kisses your shoulder. "We needed to talk about this, we already did. We fuck all the time, we can finish that up later," he said. "My moments with you are always special, whether we are just talking, not doing anything at all, or fucking like rabbits."

 You chuckle again.

 "My God Jake, your mouth."

 "What about it?" he laughs.

 You shake your head and hide your face on his neck. A blush has settled on your features and you're not ready for Jake to tease you about it.

 "I love you too, by the way," you tell him. "I love you so much."

 He lets out a content sigh, his body sinking into the couch as he lets his head fall on the backrest.

 "My pretty girl," his fingers are doing circles on your back. His scent is intoxicating. Your eyelids are starting to drop. "You're safe here. No one can hurt you now."

 His own eyes fall shut as he starts drifting off too.

Tags:  @later-gators12 @bensolosbluesaber @winter-captain-01 @dark-haired-and-mentally-ill​ @mirrorballgarden​ @zem0laufeys0n @murdickdocked @loki-hargreeves​

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[floweroflaurelin]

So as some of you know, I was commissioned by Scott Smajor a few months ago to create this insanely fun painting of the Rivendell Festival!!!

He was absolutely fantastic to work with and we worked together to create this Vanity Fair-photoshoot style Royal Portrait featuring my designs for all 12 rulers. It was painted back in November and it was some of the most fun I’ve ever had working on a job 😁😄💖

My main goal doing this piece was to make sure everyone looks hot as hell confident and fierce! I researched a number of photographers for fashion publications and went through their portfolios to figure out the general poses I thought different characters should have. Adapting everyone’s MC skins in my style was such a fantastic challenge and I loved every second of it!

And now under the cut we have my favourite part: the details!! I spent hours on each person adding jewelry and embroidery and different materials to complete each look. I cannot overstate how much fun this was! Plus the banners are all based off my own banner designs I did a while ago, and peep the faces—they’re all the same designs as my portrait series in a new context :D Feel free to zoom in, I put a lot of work into these 😁⬇️✨

First off—3/4 of the Wither Rose Alliance! As the most martial Rulers I put Pearl and Sausage on either end with their swords framing the whole set. Note Sausage’s massive hands I alluded to earlier…

And the twins!! Gem’s got her grimoire and her curly hat. Fun fact: fWhip’s face is actually Gem’s face with a beard painted on :P

Then we’ve got everyone’s favourite couple! This was painted way back before Joel was official declared a Short King so he gets to be tall one last time 💜 I had a lot of fun detailing the sash and designing his double breasted coat. Not to mention Lizzie looking like a queen with her scales and her wedding ring!

Up next, Scott and the Codfather! I had SO MUCH FUN designing Scott’s feast outfit. I love love love painting gold and I just went all out. Those epaulettes, man!! Jimmy’s outfit is less ornate but still formal for the occasion and… wait, what’s that in his hand?

Oh, would you look at that. 🥰

Up next, Pixlriffs with his channeling trident and a tiiiiiiny Shrub! Initially I was gonna put her up on the table but then I decided that the height difference would be funniest this way. At 4’3 she’s a whole half a foot shorter than me!! (I am very short.)

Plus, my Copper King design has eyeliner and earrings now. You’re welcome 😌😘

And at the other end of the table, Pearl, Joey and Katherine!! 🌸 Much wider crop because I feel like Pearl’s outfit needs to be appreciated in full.

Katherine’s dress is layers of semi-translucent fabric for that maximum swish, embroidered with flowers and sparkles. Joey’s lounging in what I think is my favourite pose of anyone. And Pearl’s flower crown has been replaced with a laurel wreath to celebrate her part in the victory over Xornoth!! The embroidery and the flow of her skirt were so much fun to adapt from her skin 🌻✨

Thank you so much to Scott for reaching out and giving me this amazing opportunity! Empires has been such an inspiration to me (as I’m sure you can tell from the contents of this Tumblr 😜) and getting to paint this for the Empires crew was such a delight. Seeing my baby all framed up in their studios is just so surreal :’’)

I’m so glad I get to share this with you all on Tumblr—let me know what you think!!!

[tangledbea]

I think it’s good that Eugene and rapunzel dated for a few years before getting married I’m sick of all the disney couples meeting for 10 minutes and then deciding they are soulmates

To be fair a) very few Disney couples get married right away, and b) of the ones who do get married at the end of the movie, we don't have much in the way of knowing how long since the previous scene the wedding took place.

Snow White was in enchanted sleep for a long time.

The seasons changed three times while she was in enchanted sleep, and all that time, the prince was looking for her and she was dreaming of him. He takes her off to his castle at the end of the movie, but we do not know when their wedding took place.

Aurora and Phillip are officially betrothed at the end of the movie, but that's not their wedding night. It's more like their engagement party. The same goes for Aladdin and Jasmine, who canonically did not get married until the third movie, which takes place at the end of the series.

Robin Hood and Maid Marian have known each other since they were children. Beauty and the Beast takes place over the course of several months, during which they start out antagonistic towards one another and gradually become friends and fall in love, which is, of course, the point of their story. And the end of the movie is not their wedding.

We don't know how much time takes place between Ariel's final transformation and her and Eric's wedding, but even if it's relatively soon, both of them literally risked their lives for each other. Deciding they were soulmates or not, they'd been through hell together and were definitely compatible. (Plus, Ariel pulled Eric out of a deep depression that we can only assume was caused by the death of his parents since his kingdom doesn't have a king, and there is no hint of either of his parents being around.)

Mulan and Shang only just started dating at the end of the movie. Jane and Tarzan spend months together before she decides to stay in the jungle. Kida and Milo share a huge intellectual interest, plus he's the first person to look out for her personal wellbeing since she was a child. Plus, he brought language and life back to her people. Hercules and Megara - whose marriage is backed by common Greek myth - also spend a great deal of time getting to know each other and go through literal hell together.

While I'm not a fan of Anna and Kristoff as a couple, at very least they don't get married for a good long while after they meet.

Do I need to keep going?

Off the top of my head, the only three Disney movies that end in actual weddings are Cinderella, Robin Hood and The Little Mermaid. While I am all for Rapunzel and Eugene taking three years to get married, I'm kind of tired of people badmouthing the rest of the couples in Disney and throwing them under this generic "unrealistic relationship length" blanket. Most of the couples whose relationships aren't very long are also couples in classic fairytales, when they weren't expanding much on the story, but were more focused on the art of the motion picture.