#i need to get a home by myself so that i can be at home and not have to spend four hours sorting laundry but can actually sleep on my days

[fromdove]

you find him in your apartment. again. window cracked. boots still on. jacket slung over the back of your chair like it belongs there.

he’s sitting on your couch like he owns it, flipping through a half-read paperback he definitely didn’t bring. probably something you left lying around — some crime thriller he’s already tearing apart in his head.

“make yourself at home,” you say, dropping your keys.

he doesn’t look up. “already did. your lock’s still crap, by the way.”

“you say that every time you break in.”

“because it’s still true.” he finally glances at you, eyes tired but sharp. “what if i was someone else?”

“then you’d be bleeding on the floor right now.”

his mouth twitches. “cute.”

you toe off your shoes, drop your bag, move toward the kitchen. “what do you want, jason?”

“wow. straight to the point. no hi jay, how was patrol? want something to drink? here, take my couch and trample my boundaries some more?”

“you don’t drink anything that isn’t ninety percent caffeine or eighty proof.”

“true,” he says, stretching his legs out. “still rude.”

you eye him from the kitchen. his holsters are off, but the rest of the suit’s still there — the compression shirt, scuffed boots, scraped knuckles. he’s vibrating under the surface like he hasn’t slept in two days and isn’t planning to.

“you get hit again?” you ask, softer.

he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “nothing important.”

“so yes.”

“do you want a play-by-play? i can act it out, real dramatic. throw myself against a wall. bleed on your furniture.”

“you already bled on my rug last month.”

“and it really tied the room together.”

you exhale through your nose. grab a glass of water, bring it over. he takes it without comment, drinks half in one go.

“why are you here, jason?”

this time, he doesn’t have a joke ready. his fingers tap the side of the glass, jaw tight.

“quiet,” he mutters. “it’s quiet here.”

you sit beside him. not close. not far.

“you ever gonna just ask to stay?” you ask.

“don’t need to.” he leans his head back, eyes closed now. “you always let me.”

“that’s not the same thing.”

“yeah,” he says, voice rough. “i know.”

the silence stretches. his foot nudges yours, casual, like he didn’t mean to. like he did.

“you gonna yell at me if i fall asleep here?”

“depends.”

“on what?”

“if you do that thing where you mutter weird half-words and twitch like you’re being electrocuted.”

he opens one eye. “that’s called trauma. look it up.”

“ever heard of therapy?”

“yeah. didn’t vibe with being psychoanalyzed by someone who’s never been shot in the face. weird, right?”

you huff a laugh. he shifts a little closer, not quite touching.

“you still smell like gunpowder,” you say.

“better than blood.”

“barely.”

he doesn’t look at you right away. just stares ahead like he’s watching something you can’t see. then, like it costs him, he says,

“couldn’t sleep.”

that’s all he gives you. not can I crash here? not I don’t want to be alone. just that.

but with jason, that’s enough.

you don’t ask. you just nod toward the blanket on the armrest.

“you want that, or are you gonna steal mine like last time?”

“wasn’t stealing. it was strategic heat distribution.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“you say that a lot,” he murmurs, already leaning back into the cushions.

and still — he doesn’t leave.

not for hours.

[dannyriccsystem]

could you do one for oscar piastri dating a Rockstar!reader and she's just that hot messy person, kinda like vic de angelis from maneskin 👉👈 I really like the opposites attract trope

OH, MAKE ME OVER!

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

Oscar 😍

SUMMARY: The internet is obsessed with the opposites attract dynamic you, an infamous rockstar, share with your racer boyfriend!

WARNINGS: Fluff, mature, sex jokes

FEATURING: Oscar Piastri x Rockstar!Reader

NOTE: This really reminded me of prime Gwen Stefani and Courtney Love, so I threw in a few pics of them (as well as vic) as face claims! Also, I put Generic Band Name as a filler for people to insert whatever they want, but lowkey that’s a fire ass name for a band so I went with it.

your.username

liked by oscarpiastri and others

your.username Happy to have put on such a successful series of shows, sad it’s come to an end. Thank you everyone for your endless support! 🤘

tagged band.name

—

generic.band.name - Is it hot in here? 🥵

♥︎ by author

username1 - SO MAD I NEVER GOT TO SEE THEM PERFORM LIVE!

username2 - You’re so beautiful, please never date a man

username3 - Yeah… About that

♥︎ by author

mclaren - We’ll keep you company in the paddock 😼

♥︎ by author

your.username - Smooth 🤔

> username4 - Why does she have a whole car brand commenting?

> username5 - 💀??

username6 - Some fans are so clueless it’s entertaining

♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri - I finally get my girlfriend to myself

♥︎ by author

username7 - He says as he proceeds to spent 90% of his time racing

♥︎ by author

username8 - Who is you? 😭

> username9 - Please tell me you’re joking

oscarpiastri

🎵 Generic Band Name • Sunday Morning

liked by band.name and others

oscarpiastri Decent race

tagged mclaren, f1

—

your.username - WOOO OSCAR P1ASTRI 😍

♥︎ by author

username10 - Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE ��

username11 - We love a supportive girlfriend

oscarpiastri - WOOO Y/N!

username12 - He used a song from her band 😞 I’m so jealous of them

username13 - They make me feel so lonely

mclaren - The griddy was a choice!

♥︎ by author

your.username - I thought it was 🔥🔥

username14 - I aspire to be like him and Y/N

Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆

f1

liked by oscarpiastri and others

f1 Breaking: Y/N, lead singer and guitarist of Generic Band Name, trades in backstage passes for paddock passes as she is spotted at the Imola Grand Prix!

tagged your.username

—

username15 - When are we gonna start giving REAL fans paddock passes instead of just famous people 🙄

your.username - I’ve been watching F1 for as long as I can remember! Hope this helps🤗

♥︎ by author

> username16 - I live to be like you

oscarpiastri - Please don’t tell her but I kinda have a crush on her

♥︎ by author

username17 - Oooo @/your.username

your.username - Wait really 🥹🥹

> oscarpiastri - 🙈🙈

mclaren - That’s our girl!

♥︎ by author

your.username - Loyal to the papaya team 🧡🫡

scuderiaferrari - We’re huge fans over here at Ferrari! 🤘

♥︎ by author

your.username - Dw guys I’ll sneak over there

username18 - Atp let Y/N drive the damn cars.

username19 - She’d perform better than Lance 😭

Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆

oscarpiastri

liked by generic.band.name and others

oscarpiastri Gotta post my good luck charm before the race 😉 My beautiful girl

tagged your.username

—

username20 - he’s so boyfriend

username21 - Y/N MENTION?? “MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL” ??? OHHHHH MY GOD

username22 - You mean to tell me you guys have been… Doing it…?

your.username - This made me laugh so hard Oh My God

username23 - Oscar Piastri dating a rockstar is exactly what society needed

username24 - She’s so pretty

♥︎ by author

username25 - HARD LAUNCH AHHH

your.username - Bring home another one, Osc 🏆🧡

♥︎ by author

mclaren - Maybe she’ll serenade us if we win!

♥︎ by author

generic.band.name - Alright Romeo… Make sure you return our lead after you’re done playing cars 😉

♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri - I’ll return her once I start losing.

your.username

liked by oscarpiastri and others

your.username I’m not a waitress but I’ll take his tip-💣💥

tagged oscarpiastri

—

oscarpiastri - WHAT IS THIS CAPTION

oscarpiastri - HEY TAKE THIS DOWN 😭

username26 - He posted beautiful pictures and she’s slutting him out HELP

♥︎ by author

username27 - This about sums up their dynamic

username8 - Oh my God that random guy is your BOYFRIEND? I’m sorry for what I said

username2 - NOOO

username28 - A permanent Oscar post? No way 👀

♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri - Okay fine whatever ily

♥︎ by author

your.username - Awww 🥰

> oscarpiastri - ❤️

♥︎ by author

lando - EWWW EW EW EW DELETE THIS NOW EW

♥︎ by author

your.username - 😐 YOU HATE LOVE 😐

username29 - I like this one. Can Y/N fans adopt him

TIME STOPS FOR YOU when you step into the McLaren garage. Your Doc Martens squeak with every step, shining in the blistering Miami sun that tauntingly hangs high in the sky. Sweat glistens on your forehead, threatening to wipe away your bold makeup. The sunglasses perched atop your hair go unused, while you opt to shield your eyes from the glaring light with your hand.

It didn’t matter how hot it was, you’d still be sporting that same leather jacket, paired with a cropped shirt, slanted at the shoulders. Beneath that you wore a denim skirt that hugged your thighs, layered above torn tights. You were a statement in the paddock, incomparable to the model-like wives and girlfriends of the other drivers. No shade to them, though. Those were your girls, and despite your physical differences, you adored them more than anything. It was important to stick together.

“That outfit could use a little less�� Orange.” Oscar perked up like a pathetic dog at the sound of your voice, whipping around to face you with a soft smile. He had already seen you multiple times throughout the race weekend— Hell, the two of you shared a hotel room, but it had been awhile since you showed up on a Sunday, and he was more excited than ever before.

“It’s papaya,” He responded coolly. With every step you took towards him, you could feel that nonchalant demeanor begin to chip away. He was putty in your hands. When you were nearly chest to chest, Oscar grinned; he was showing his teeth. “Hey, rockstar.”

Your hand darted out, grabbing the collar of his suit. “Hi, hotshot.” You, rather aggressively, pulled him down for a kiss unlike any other. It was a rather passionate smack of the lips— Certainly enough to make every nearby mechanic awkwardly avert their eyes, trying to focus on anything but the spectacle you’ve made.

“Barely five minutes and you’ve already hijacked my garage,” Oscar chuckled, his voice as relaxed as ever. Seemed like he was nearly unfazed by the kiss.

You tilted your head, slowly releasing the grip you had on him. He straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest. You shamelessly eyed his muscles, which flexed underneath the race suit. “This place? It needed some flair, that’s all.” Your eyes dragged down his figure, and then back up. “Missed you in this suit.”

“Did you now?” He grinned, contrasting your sultry smirk. “I missed seeing you here myself. It was quiet. Too quiet.” Oscar Piastri liked being left alone in the quiet until he met you. Then he started to crave some noise in his life, which was suddenly filled with dirty rock lyrics and grungy music.

“Careful, Osc. You almost showed a bit of emotion there,” You teased. He had shown every side to you, bared even his most vulnerable moments, but it was fun to mock his forwardly monotone behavior.

“You have that effect on me. When you’re here… It’s like I can breathe again.”

“Good,” Your tone sounded sincere as you cupped his cheeks. “I just got back from a very harrowing tour, so I need you to come back to me in one piece. Save me another heart attack.” You pulled him in for another kiss— This one was soft and tender, your love electrified.

“I’ll be smart.” Smart, not safe. Safe in Formula One meant coming in last place. Smart meant prioritizing your physical health and pace all at once.

You liked that. “I’ll be cheering louder than anything- Louder than your damn engine.” You two finally began to pull apart, sparked by his engineer letting him know he had about a minute left. He grabbed his baclava and helmet, slipping them on over his neatly combed hair.

“I’ll hold you to it.” His voice was muffled as he tightened the helmet straps. “It’s like luck walked into my garage.” He turned away to go load into his car, but before he could take a step, you sneakily reached out to firmly smack his ass. He flinched and turned around— Despite the visor, you could tell exactly what look he was giving. A very jokingly stern one.

“Bring it home, Osc.”

[littlepaperboatyo]

I think the language of this does a good job driving home the real issue behind things like Ai use and factory farming for me, which is not so simple as Ai is bad or factory farming is bad. Both of these things are done for the sake of scale, "how do we reach as many people as we can?" and when that is your first value it drastically shifts all of your other values. Corporations care about quantity of consumers over all else.

A small language school would never consider using Ai because it would introduce many problems and solve none. Their values would be set on doing their best to serve their community and help people they know to better communicate. Introducing Ai doesn't help them make a connection with Mel's kid Alex who's having a hard time learning Spanish and also understanding why he should learn Spanish just to talk to his new stepbrother Javi. That requires being present and connecting with people, and holds the possibility of personally mattering in their lives. Instructor Aldo might be the perfect person to do it too, Alex thinks he's a pretty cool guy and he focuses not on Alex's feeling about his mom getting married but on what Alex knows about Javi. Maybe that kid is pretty cool and Alex is missing out by not being able to play with him. Maybe Aldo can enlist Javi's help and now when they're laughing together Alex is desperate to be able to understand the joke. Now Alex is understanding Spanish, and he and Javi start being able to hang out, and they're both feeling a bit better about their parents getting married.

Take away instructor Aldo, now there's an app. It's a pretty good app, and if Alex would engage with it he might start to figure out Spanish, but he's angry about his mom getting married. He doesn't engage, and he has this stepbrother he doesn't understand, and he's mad. and he's mad. and he doesn't learn Spanish. and nothing changes.

But people learn languages for many reasons and Duolingo does work for many people. And it needs to work for more people, which means that they need to do more work. Which means they need to outsource it. Which means Ai is looking like a good choice.

This is what monopolies are. Forget about business for the sake of business, there was a time before businesses existed. there was a time before money. in fact, it was about 2000 years ago. people would do things for each other because they knew each other and cared about each other. and even when money came about it existed so that people who didn't know each other could help each other and would often result in people getting to know each other. in fact this is how about every business worked up until the industrial Revolution, and even then it was still most of them. But then you get businesses that do too well, and no one competing with them. And it's not really about the lack of competition that exists in a healthy economy, it's moreso about what happens when your neighborhood store is supporting more than just your neighborhood. where do they get the supply for the demand?

they outsource it.

When you care about scale your community expands. You have to start thinking on a bigger scale which means you lose sight of the small scale. Your values change, and your values affect the values of the people you serve. They lose sight of their value just as you have. I see it every day, and I see it in myself. I work in a very busy store where I serve thousands of people a day. My boss calls it the neighborhood store. I serve thousands of people a day. I see so many faces and I do my best to block them out because it's too much. This is not uncommon, for the people in my store or plenty of other stores belonging to different companies. But it is not normal.

Yesterday people came to protest where we get our chicken. I serve thousands of people a day.

It is not possible for companies to exist at this scale and honor good values.

And it smoothes over and eradicates culture. We don't have different conversations with our language instructors. We don't have that one really strange grocer that you can have an interesting conversation with for half an hour while they're on the clock. We don't have small communities with their own values that can inspire it's own culture.

we have the global scale.

[link]

we been knew its just a nail in a coffin tbh

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jade Leech - Shore Celebrant Voice Lines

Now, time to flip the boat. After all, this is a Trial of Love!

Summon: There were two moray eels in service to the Sea Witch. I will give my all for this traditional ceremony that was formed from one of their tales.

Groovification: According to their story, the two moray eels flipped the boat together, but... It seems I was able to do it all by myself.

Home: Please treat me well.

Swap Looks: I need to fix up my hair.

Home Transition 1: Merfolk who come to land are few and far between, let alone those who choose to marry humans... Heheh, some merfolk truly are eccentric.

Home Transition 2: What would I do if I were to get married on land? In that circumstance, I think I would want to make my entrance on a gondola.

Home Transition 3: The view from atop the highest point in the city was quite lovely... But I believe that it would be an even more spectacular view if I were to look down from atop the cliffs.

Home Transition - Login: I never thought the day would come that I would be able to walk with my own two feet the city I had gazed at from within the waters. I'm sure if my younger self were to learn of this, he would be astounded.

Home Transition - Groovy: I've often been told that I resemble my mother, but that is an utter disservice to her. It will probably still be some time before I can be of any comparison.

Home Tap 1: When we came across the bride and groom in town, Rook-san gave them a hearty congratulations. He spoke with the fervor that rivaled even their closest relatives.

Home Tap 2: I was surprised to see so many thick textbooks come out of Riddle-san's bag. Amazing that he doesn't neglect his studies even while taking a trip...

Home Tap 3: Oh? I feel as though I just saw Malleus-san walking on the ocean waters... I must have been mistaken, yes?

Home Tap 4: My mother's fashion sense is truly lovely. I've never had the chance to see her look like this before, so I had no idea.

Home Tap 5: This formal outfit suits me well? I'm honored by your kind words. I can feel my whole posture straightening while wearing such crisp clothes.

Home Tap - Groovy: That was an utterly fantastic Eternity Float. I would do well to polish my abilities so as to generate an even larger splash next time.

Duo: [JADE]: Let's turn the tides, Riddle-san. [RIDDLE]: I suppose I should try trusting you for once, Jade.

Requested by @clove-noko.

[theyluvivi]

CHRIS SENDS YOU A... SPECIAL VIDEO.

It's not unusual for Chris to send you videos.

Hell, you're concerned when an hours past and he hasn't sent you one. Even though you complain all the time that you'd prefer if he just texted you—He just says he wants you to see him, that it's easier for you to get what he means when you watch them.

So you're not surprised when he sends you one after you received one 30 mins after he said he was getting on the game.

You raise your eyebrow when you see just how lengthy it is, but you still click on it.

It starts with him just propping his phone up, you seeing the light of his computer illumate his face. But then he scoots back in his chair, hands immediately going to his headphones, "Miss y'so much it's crazy."

"I know, I know we saw each other yesterday—But I want my girl." You're giggling, smiling to yourself until suddenly, his sweatpants are down and you seeing the raging boner he has.

"Was thinking of you while playing.... look what you did."

Fuck.

His hands trail down to his boxers, cupping himself. "Not fair." He whimpers, "Saw the marks you left and just couldn't help myself."

Your thighs press together... and if your hand slipped into your sleep shorts it's no one business.

"K-know you're touching yourself too, mama— imagine its my hand, okay?" He lets out a shaky breath as he pulls down his boxers and finally frees his weeping cock.

"I need you— need y'so bad ma'—" He gasps, hand wrapping around his eager cock. "I— I kept imagining you bouncing on me— please—" Chris lets out a loud, whiny whimper that goes straight to your throbbing cilt.

"C—cant— can't even be loud cus Matt n' Nick are home-! Need y'to shut me up with your fingers—" He babbles, eagerly stroking his cock. "Teasing m-my tip just like how you do—"

"So fuckin' sensitive— I- mnf—" He whines, cock leaking like a faucet. "Needyoumama— needyouneedyouneedyou—" He repeats like a prayer, "I— please m' gonna cum— c-can I? Can I cum—?" He asks like you're there. God, you wish were there. Watching him make a mess of himself.

"Cum— cum with me— please mommy— c-cum—" He growls, head falling back in his chair. You're cooked. Fingers helplessly rubbing at your clit as you hips rut up to help you.

"Cum— m' cumming mama!" He practically screams, hand stroking himself at a rapid pace. Your hips lift off the bed before your eyes roll into the back of your head as your orgasm crashes over you.

A raspy giggle falls from Chris's lips as he finally comes down from his high. "Miss you...text me when you're done cleaning up, okay?

And then the video ends.

You're quick to follow his directions.

you're terrible.

tell me about

just got yelled at by matt and nick :p

whatever

you gonna do something abt it tho?

a/n: chris.... i mean who said that!

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @domizmez @drewswife @strnilolover @t0riiiis @courta13 @badgallrora @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @cherryswifeyy @sweeethrt @moond0llie @ambi-squirrelly @wastelandzella @applecidersturniolo @riasturns @iloveduckssm @oopsiedaisydeer

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, rough sex, choking, expensive sex worker!reader, sorta toxic relationship

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about the ruthless kingpin, owner of the city's most high-end escort business…

The one who took you in when you were still only a sorry street wretch—a child who fought with rocks over scraps before he taught you women didn’t need to draw blood in order to win.

Oh, and he taught you well... How you could make fools out of men, but never of him, with only a weaponized look in your eye.

You were a fast learner, too. The type of fast you only see in people who enjoy what they’re learning. You had fun slipping on those tiny dresses and heels, going out prowling for filthy rich men you could make your happy victims. You’d come away with their money and their thanks and seemed to bask in every second of it.

Back then, you were hungry. But too soon, it became too easy, and too soon, you realized money was a dull thing that would quicker leave you feeling sick to your overfull stomach than satisfied. 

You used to think you could buy a house and call it home, but you’ve since learned it doesn’t work that way. 

So you always come back to him. Home-sick little thing that you are.

You wear his shirt and coy eyes, crawling into his lap, daring him to fuck you now that you’ve made yourself so priceless.

“Think you can still afford me, old man?” you ask, looking at him through that sly smile he taught you to perfection so many years ago.

“Brazen,” he scoffs. “But coming crawling back here with your tail tucked between your legs isn’t exactly a good sales pitch, little girl.” 

Sighing, he acts as if he isn’t interested—and by god, how you missed getting played with like that. 

“I thought I taught you better than to show people what a wretched street cat you used to be, and yet here you are, begging me for the same scraps.”

You moan with aggression, a gleeful smile splitting your painted lips, looking at him with a twinkle in your eyes whilst purring, “Mmh, how I missed your dirty talk. Nothing gets me wetter than watching you deny how you don’t wish you’d collared me when you still had the chance.” 

He scoffs then, half-mast eyes watching as you unhurriedly unbuckle his belt for him. In his lap like a loyal pet. “Why would I put in the effort when you come back to me so willingly?”

“You trust me that much? That while you take your afternoon nap, I won’t find myself someone else to entertain me.” Your smile doesn’t waver, nor do your hands, and how they work oh-so-painfully slow at unbuttoning him, taking your sweet time, baiting him both with your actions and with your words. “I mean, you’re getting on in your years... I’m not sure how much longer you can keep up.”

That does it, of course. Older than you or not, he’s got the strength of a bull and the stamina of one who’s seen red, grabbing you by the fat of your ass as he springs up and strides to the bed where he all but tosses you down.

You only giggle and receive him, ready for your punishment like a convict pleading guilty. Feeling the same type of urgency take you when he bears over you, you rush to unbutton his shirt, attacking each other with tongue and teeth.

He tugs you close by the hips and doesn’t wait for any word of consent before filling you up.

Your eyes roll back, digging your painted nails into the muscles of his back and locking your legs behind him, thinking it feels nothing short of homecoming the way he stakes his claim as if he owns you.

“Playing games even when you know you’re mine,” he growls against your lips, his fist finding its way around your throat, squeezing tight. “Say it.” 

He owns you. He made you. Sculpted you with his bare fucking hands. You’ll never escape him. And you know it, so you should admit it with your chest. You’re his. No matter how many others you may go out hunting at night, you’ll always come back to your owner to present the kill. So be honest. His grip on your throat tightens. He owns you. 

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

All movement stills—breaths and all—hanging poised in the air as if stuck in the suspension. His heart flinches within his chest, rifts with hope so brutal it’s reminiscent of terror.

It hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear, nor was he aware he’d even wanted to hear it, and still, even now, he’s a little unsure as this feeling within is something he’s never before felt but always dreaded, and yet here you are, taking him by surprise.

You’re betraying the game the two of you’ve been playing. Throwing the knife away and asking him if he won’t do the same. But you’re not supposed to do such silly things. You’re supposed to have more pride than that. You’re supposed to be fangs and all, not soft-spoken confessions and those big eyes full of raw hope that bring him to his knees. Oh no, what have you done?

“Then marry me.”

Oh no, what have you made him do?

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Enji, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[karikitdemon]

I have a triplegic uncle, he only has the use of one arm. He also has a bit brain damage if I remember correctly and he has been this way his whole life due to an unfortunate accident that happened when he was a baby. He can't do a lot of things like going to the bathroom on his own. My gramma and grampa used to help him with these things but now my gramma is old and can't lift him and my grampa passed away a while ago. My uncle is in a nursing home now but had to be moved around a bit until he got to this recent one cuz the other places were awful or too expensive, I think it was only two the more I think on it.

One place wouldn't bathe him nor help him go to the bathroom and instead put a diaper on him and DIDN'T FUCKING CHANGE IT! Uncle got a bad rash ALL OVER and he was suffering cuz it hurt. Gramma and my mom went up there and moved him out with a quickness. Now he is in a better home and thankfully is getting the help he needs. Sure they give him a diaper too but that's incase of accidents and they still transfer him to the toilet and to a shower-safe wheel chair and bathe him.

Now, if a man who can't take a shit properly nor bathe properly needs to save himself from a fire, what do you think will happen? HE'D DIE AND MY GRAMMA AND I WOULD BE HEART BROKEN! He has help and there are precautions in place so that there is less risk of a fire breaking out that bad at his nursing home but think about that. There are countless people who struggle and are forced to "Get over it" cuz "it's not that bad" if they need a wheel chair on occasion THEY NEED THAT WHEEL CHAIR!

Sometimes I get so overwhelmed and become nonverbal, I have an app I can use to help me communicate, it's an e-reader app I think, there are a lot of different ones to choose from. I use natural reader for multiple things this being one of them. Once I got into an accident on my electric scooter (two wheeled electric scooter where you stand) on my way back to work from lunch. I fell off in the parking lot and was fine. Got back up FELL OVER AGAIN IN THE STREET AND ALMOST GOT RUN OVER BY A CAR. Had to text my co-worker quickly to help after I got on the sidewalk. I couldn't work the rest of my shift cuz I was shaking and couldn't speak, had to write down what I needed help with, which was to call my gramma (I live with her) so she could pick me up. Gramma was a bit freaked out cuz her grandchild almost got run over and seeing me all frazzled and not talking was a lot for her cuz she never saw that. I used my phone to communicate with her while I let it ride out, cuz that's what works best for me. I get myself in a comfortable environment and relax.

I can't force myself to talk when I'm like that (I've tried and it just either doesn't happen or I yell out single words at a time unable to make full sentences, having to hid my chest to "force the words out" in a sense which NOT GOOD), I literally strain to speak. It's hard to explain to have others who don't struggle with this type of thing understand, but the way I put it is kinda like getting the wind knocked out of you but with words. You can breath but you can't speak even when you want to. You try as hard as you can but there's no words, a tightness in your chest, and a sort of fog or ringing in your brain.

Safe to say, if I were caught in a fire I might have a rough time talking to the operator on the phone or something and then I might die or get really injured.

Long story short, I'm very aware of visible and invisible disabilities from either personal experience or through second hand experience since I helped with my uncle before he moved to his current nursing home. Trust me when I say that people can die if they don't have the support they need if they're disabled! People with disabilities should not be undermined or dismissed and told to get over it, they should be respected and offered help and opportunities to make their lives better! Wasn't Stevin Hawking technically disabled and in a wheelchair?

Help a disabled person, help the next potential Stevin Hawking! Just be nice!

I hate how often some (typically abled) people will go “well, if you can’t [get a specific support], then what?” when it comes to disabilities. As if it’s a “gotcha” moment. And then act like you’re exaggerating when you answer that question honestly.

Disabled people often die from a lack of support. A lot of disability aids are not a luxury, but a basic need in order to live.

“Well what happens if—” people die. People hurt themselves. People hurt others. Disabled people don’t magically become abled if our needs aren’t met.

If a bedbound quadriplegic is caught in a housefire, and there’s nobody there to save them, they’ll probably die. They won’t magically become able-bodied out of sheer will.

If a nonspeaking/nonverbal autistic is denied access to alternative methods of communication, they’ll suffer in silence. They won’t spontaneously become capable of speech.

Disabled people are disabled all the time. Our disabilities don’t go away just because they’re inconvenient, or if we’re in danger.

[holylulusworld]

A helping hand

Summary: Your boyfriend ignores more than one task.

Pairing: Biker!(Neighbor) Bucky Barnes x Neighbour!Reader

Warnings: lazy/awful boyfriend, cheating, breaking up, paying for help the naughty way, smut, unprotected sex, oral (fem rec), dirty talk, sex in a car

A/N: Inspired by a post on TikTok.

The story was written for:

@avengers-assemble-bingo: Kinky Bingo: Square filled: “That’s a good girl.”

buckybarnesbingo 2024 (expired): Square filled: U2: Kink: Lingerie

buckybarnesbingo 2023 (expired) K1: Wish

buckybarnesbingo 2022 (expired): Y5: Kink: Vibrators

@buckyboybingo: Square 18: Car sex

“Babe, can you have a look at the bathroom door? It gets stuck all the damn time. Yesterday, I fought for half an hour with it before I could leave the room.” You sigh as your boyfriend takes his sweet time to answer. He has the week off but didn’t help you with anything at the house. “Babe?”

“I’m not a builder nor a handyman, Y/N!” He finally answers after wolfing the breakfast you made for him before cleaning the kitchen down. “If you want it to be done, hire someone or do it yourself.”

Another task on your long list. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.” You grumble and begrudgingly put your book away. All you wanted was to have some free time on your week off too.

Jason comes back home late at night. He was having a blast playing video games with his friends and eating all the snacks you bought last week for a lazy night with streaming and your favorite movies.

“Oh, good, you are back,” you call from the bathroom. “Babe, the sink in the bathroom is leaking, and the tap is still dripping. Can you help me fix this tomorrow?”

“Sorry, I have plans with the guys tomorrow, and I am not a plumber,” Jason yells from downstairs before taking the leftovers of tonight’s dinner out of the fridge. The meal you prepared for the two of you, for him to not come home.

It feels like Jason doesn’t even try to make this relationship work any longer. He’s just not in it anymore.

You close your eyes and huff. Of course, he won’t help you fix the sink either. Whatever. You’ll find a way to get the door, sink, and tap somehow. Even if you must pay a handyman to fix everything.

The next day you had to go on another shopping spree. Jason and his buddies did not only eat all of your snacks, but the food you needed for dinner too.

“Oh, fuck me,” you kick one of the wheels of your car. “Seriously? The sink is a mess, the tap, and the bathroom door. On top of it all, you have to mess with me too?”

“Hello, neighbor! Is everything alright?” Bucky, your neighbor of two years, waves at you. He stopped his bike in front of your house to jog toward your car and help you with the bags in your trunk. “What’s wrong, doll?”

“Urgh…everything,” you huff. “I got no time for my car to break down. I need to repair the sink, the tap, and the bathroom door. And my vibrator broke, so no, nothing is good.”

“What about your boyfriend?” Bucky furrows his brows. “Why doesn’t he help you with all of this?” He glances at the engine light. “I could help you with the car and everything else.”

Bucky grins as you consider his offer. Jason would get mad if you let your neighbor repair all the things in your house. On the other hand, Jason is barely around and doesn’t care much about helping you repair the sink or anything else.

“What do you want in return? I spared some money and could pay you back for your time.”

Bucky’s grin widens when you tell him you’ll talk to your boyfriend first. You’ll give Bucky a call if Jason refuses to help you.

“Jason, babe, could you help me with my car? The engine light is on again, and the engine died three times on my way back home!”

Jason barely looks up from his fishing magazine. He plans to spend the weekend with his friends, not you. “Babe, I’m not a mechanic!”

“But you work on your old-timer all the time. You’re good with cars. At least have a look at it and tell me how much it will cost me to let a mechanic repair it.”

“No time. I need to focus on…” He mumbles the rest, and you don’t care what he has to say. You just wish that for once, you and the home you share were more important to Jason than his friends.

Rolling your eyes at his poor excuses, you decide to ask Bucky for help. He offered to lend you a hand, and you won’t turn him down. You only need to ask him about payment.

“Babe, I’m off for my weekend with my friends. Have a good time,” Jason says as he walks into the bathroom to grab his toothbrush. “Oh, the door works again.”

“Yeah, I know,” you reply from inside the walk-in wardrobe. “Bucky offered his help and fixed everything today, even my car. We went on a test drive too.”

“That’s great,” he hastily says and pokes his head inside the wardrobe. “So…what did he want for it?”

You smirk. “Oh, he said I could bake him a cake or,” you giggle at the next part, “or sleep with him.”

Jason snorts. “Which cake did you make him, and are there any leftovers?”

“You’re so funny,” you snort. “I’m not a baker…”

“What…me?” Jason watches you roll a suitcase out of the walk-in wardrobe. “No way…no. You wouldn’t…would you?”

You pat his cheek and say, “Well, it all started as a joke…”

“Wow, that was fast!” You watch Bucky clean his hands, trying to get the grease off his skin. He not only fixed your sink, the tap, and the bathroom door but also your car. “How’d you do it?”

“I’m good with my hands,” he replies, that sexy smirk on his lips again.

“So…how can I pay you back?” You ask, stepping closer to your car. “You did a great job.”

“You could bake me a cake.” Bucky steps closer to look over your shoulder at the engine light that’s now off again. “Or…” He moves his hands to your hips, squeezing lightly as he nuzzles his face in your neck, “Sleep with me. Let me make you scream my name in different languages because I know that piece of shit you call your boyfriend doesn’t do it right.”

Without hesitation, you turn around to face Bucky. He expectantly looks at you, not a doubt in his blue eyes as he waits for your answer. Bucky knows you are not going to turn him down. Why would you?

“I hope you’re only half as good at fucking at repairing my car.” Fisting his shirt, you bring him closer for a messy kiss. “How about we go for a ride in my car?”

“How about I go for a ride with you in your car?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. His mouth covers yours, swallowing the needy noises you make when his hands start to roam your body.

“Why not?” you purr against his lips. “This backseat hasn’t seen any action for ages.”

“I’ll fucking ruin it.” Bucky pins you against your car, hands moving to your ass to grope you roughly. “Yeah, you’ll scream my name.”

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, keeping him close to your body. The kisses you share are not sweet or innocent. It’s almost primal and beyond sensual.

“How could you wear a dress like that and make me rock-hard while I tried to be a gentleman?” he mutters against your lips. His right hand moves under your dress, finding your brand-new lace panties—the ones you bought only for him.

He shoves your panties aside to pinch your clit. “You’re already soaking my fingers, and you didn’t even see my cock.” Bucky smirks before he rips your panties off your body.

You whine against his lips; these were new, and you liked them.

“So needy, baby doll?” He laughs against your lips as if he’s not poking you with his erection. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Bucky toys with your clit, tugging and pinching it, just the way you like it. “Bucky…” You whine loudly. “Please.”

“Patience, baby.” He pecks your lips and moves you toward the back of your car. “Get on the backseat and spread those pretty legs for me. I’ll eat this cunt first.”

You lick your lips. Jason never was an enthusiastic pussy eater. “Fuck…” You curse and eagerly open the door and get in the backseat.

Bucky doesn’t wait. He crawls onto the backseat and puts your legs over his shoulders. His mouth immediately claims your pussy, licking and nipping at your sensitive flesh.

You cry out and slap the backseat, feeling his lips seal around your clit. “Bucky…what if someone sees?”

“I don’t care,” he grunts against your cunt. “Anyone sneaking close to your garage will know you’re mine now.”

You buck your hips. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place. Bucky doesn’t like giving up control. He alternately laps at you and sucks your clit into his mouth.

His tongue, the skilled muscle, teasingly flicks your little nub. Your hands shoot toward his head, cupping the back of his head to press him closer to your cunt.

He laughs against you, stopping right when you are about to find release. “Not yet, baby,” Bucky purrs. He places a searing kiss on your clit. “You’ll come on my cock only.”

 You watch him unzip his pants and push them down. Gasping, you look at his erection. He’s thicker and longer than Jason, and you wonder if you can take him.

“We’ll make it fit,” he snickers as you stare at him with wide eyes. Bucky crawls on top of you, teeth biting your nipple through the thin fabric of your dress. “I’ll take my time later. Now I need to be inside of you.”

His stormy blue eyes search yours for a moment. He dips his head, breathing hard as you wrap your legs around him. “You’re mine,” he declares, his lips crashing against yours seconds later.

Bucky wiggles his hips, brushing his cock against your clit. You jolt at the sensation, whining against his lips as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimper and whine. “Please…I need…you.”

“That’s a good girl.” He pecks your lips, and filly sheaths himself inside of you with one hard thrust.

You cuss but eagerly buck your hips again. You’re so full; it’s a struggle to accommodate his size.

“Let me in, baby. That’s good.” He slowly starts rocking his hips. His pace is fast; he pounds into you with deep strokes. Bucky buries his face in your neck, nipping at your soft skin.

You’d like to giggle because the car rocks with the force of his thrusts. It’s almost comical, but you can’t focus on anything but the feel of Bucky moving inside of you and his lips pressing against yours.

You cling to him, nails biting into his back as he pushes you toward a much-needed release. “Fuck…Bucky… I’m…gonna…”  

His warmth fills you as your walls grip him tightly. “Baby doll, fuck. Yes…that’s it…”

Jason gapes at you. He can’t find his voice as you gather your packed bags and suitcases.

“I’ll be coming back tomorrow to pick up the rest of my stuff. You can have the house. It never was a home to me.”

“Where are you going?” Jason asks, following you downstairs. “Y/N! Where are you going?"

“Bucky is waiting for me,” you reply and open the door. True to your words, Bucky is standing in front of the door to grab the bag and laptop in your hands.

“The rest is upstairs?” Bucky asks, searching for any sign of distress on your face. “You already told him?”

“Yup,” you peck Bucky’s lips. “I packed everything. We can pick up the rest tomorrow.”

“Nah,” Bucky says and jerks his head toward his friends waiting outside. “They are all here. We can grab your stuff today.”

Jason just stares at Bucky, and his friends walk inside your home. He doesn’t say a word when you tell him what to grab.

He runs one hand down his face, regretting that he didn’t treat you right.

“Well, punk, you snooze, you lose,” Bucky taunts as he carries your suitcases down the stairs. “Now I’ve got your pretty dame in my clutches; I’ll never let her go.”

[7-wonders]

Seeing Ghosts

Dr. Jack Abbot x psychiatrist!reader (gender-neutral)

Summary: A case hits too close to home for you. Jack wants you to know you're not alone.

Word count: 1.9k

A note from the author: "I'm just going to write a little blurb," I say to myself. "Fucking liar!" my laptop yells at me.

I don't even know what I'm doing with this but I'm watching The Pitt and cannot get this old man out of my head! If you're reading this, I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Content warning: Mentions of suicidal thoughts

You’re on night rotations for the first time in years, taking over for Dr. Gibbons who’s out on paternity leave. Night shift has been kind to you with a fairly easy workload as your body gets adjusted to a completely opposite sleep-wake schedule, but tonight, you’re called down to the ER for a 5150. 20 y/o male, brought to the ER after his roommate found him with cuts to his wrists. He's crying as his wrists are tended to, so sure that some unseen entity is on the phone with Pitt's admissions office right now to get his scholarships revoked.

You recognize him, this young overachiever who has the weight of the world on his shoulders for no real reason other than that he feels it will all collapse if he's not the one to hold it up. Not because you've met him before. You recognize him because, at one point in time, he was you.

One of your favorite parts about your job is getting to truly connect with your patients, and you feel that one of the best ways to do that is by meeting them at their level. Sitting next to them, giving them your first name and insisting they call you by that, and, if they allow for it, holding their hands. You catch a fair amount of shit for it from other doctors (mainly those for whom psychiatry isn't their specialty), but there's a reason why your patient satisfaction scores are so high. You know what you're doing, and you know how to accomplish a positive outcome, so when Shaun Gold takes your outstretched hand, you know you've got an in.

“I understand, that you feel like you’re alone in how you’re feeling right now. But can I tell you a secret?" He nods, and you tighten your grip on his hand. "You're not alone. So many people have felt the exact same way. I have felt the exact same way."

"You have?" Shaun's face opens up at this revelation, seeing in front of him a successful (-ish) doctor who's also battled the lowest of the lows.

"Yep. And I'm not here to tell you that I never feel the way I did then anymore, because I would be lying to you. But I have the right skills now to help me combat those feelings. Therapy, and coping tools, and medication. That's what I'm trying to do for you here. Give you the proper skills so that you can be the best possible version of yourself. And maybe one day, you'll be in my position, helping to give hope to somebody who needs it. So?" You squeeze his hand, smiling when he squeezes back. "Can we help you?"

Shaun agrees, and you get him safely transferred up to your ward with a schedule laid out and a promise that you'll be back in an hour. A favorable outcome, which is all that one can ask for in this career. But it doesn't change the heaviness in your chest, which continues to press down on you even after you're back down in the ER to discuss potential care plans with Ellis. Throwing yourself back into work is normally your trick to get your mind off of a tough case—it's not the healthiest coping mechanism, but mental health is nothing if not a balancing act—and you're left searching for relief. Where's a physician to go when everything feels a little too...much? Your fellow dayshifter clued you in on just the place.

The roof of PTMC is quiet at this time of night, no incoming or outgoing medical flights interrupting your stolen moment of peace. Almost immediately, you can see why Robby finds so much comfort in being up here. Leaning against the railing, having the cool breeze on your face and watching cars crawl through the streets of Pittsburgh like ants in an ant farm...it may not comfort you, exactly, but it does help to calm you down enough that you can focus on the things you would tell a patient in your position to do: deep breathing and grounding.

From behind you comes the sound of the rooftop door opening and closing and your slow exhale turns into a harsh sigh, assuming that it's some medical student coming to find you about a drunk experiencing hallucinations. Do people not remember how to use a pager anymore?

"Fancy seeing you up here." You'd be able to pick Jack Abbot's voice out of a crowd of hundreds, and it's no different now when he's standing behind you. Your shoulders, which you hadn't realized tensed up at the threat of being pulled back to work before you're ready, loosen up almost immediately.

It was naive of you to think that Jack wouldn't have picked up on anything out of the ordinary in any of the doctors on the clock tonight. He and Robby are two of the best ER attendings in the state for many reasons, but the way that they look out for those on their teams is one of them. Ellis probably snitched, you think, before realizing that you're not giving Jack nearly enough credit for his intuitiveness.

"I've heard so much about this 'trick' from Robby, figured now was the perfect time to try it out. Sorry to steal your hiding spot," you call out, keeping your eyes focused on the lights of PNC Park in the distance.

"I'm not going to ask you if you're alright, because god knows I would hate if someone came up here, interrupted my moment of peace, and asked the same." You can't help the smile that appears on your face. "But I am...here. Y'know, just in case you feel like talking."

You recognize this language, and it makes you chuckle. "Who's the psychiatrist here?"

"Not me, thankfully."

"Saw a ghost downstairs," you supply, still staring determinedly ahead. "I'm pretty good at compartmentalizing, at separating my work life from my personal life. But every so often, a certain case comes in that just...hits too close to home."

"I completely understand."

What Jack doesn't tell you is that, the moment you saw your ghost in that student, he saw his own ghost in you. He often hears negative feedback from those in the ivory tower about how he could stand to be a little more caring to, well, everybody. Though Robby hosts some of the worst patient reviews, he has more than a few of his own.

But who the hospital administration hears from is the bad seeds. Drunk idiots, antivaxxer mothers, bigots who think they can get away with snide comments to members of the staff—the types of people for whom complaining is in their blood. They're more than happy to fill out the survey provided to them with their discharge instructions, flaming everything and everything about the hospital—but especially about Dr. Abbot, who has been called anything from "gruff and unapproachable" to "a raging asshole."

He doesn't do this for them, though. He does it for the people that can actually benefit from his help, those who likely won't fill out a survey. The young parent frantically making sure that every test and procedure for their sick child is covered by Medicaid before consenting. The unhoused man being treated on his fingers for frostbite (and who will find a warm, sturdy pair of gloves tucked with his discharge paperwork).

The veteran fresh off a tour of duty and having her first real bout of PTSD.

You found yourself caught off guard by how close you felt to this case, and in that moment, he saw himself in you.

"I've been that student before—still am, sometimes," you admit quietly, knowing Jack will still hear it. "I was always too scared of what would happen to me if people found out I was feeling this way. I was sure that I'd be judged by everyone, but especially by doctors. I had no reason to feel that way, of course, but I didn't know any better at the time. I think that's why this case got to me; I needed him to hear me, to know for certain that he wasn't alone in his feelings and that he had friends in those who would be taking care of him."

Jack's silent, but you know that's not a bad thing. When he finally speaks, his voice is closer than it was when he first joined you on the roof. "I think that's what distinguishes good doctors from great doctors. Good doctors study hard, perform quality work, and genuinely care for their patients. But the great doctors are those who allow their experiences to fuel them. Who go through pain, or heartbreak, or grief, and use those feelings to guide their work and how they treat those that come under their care. And you, my friend, are a damn great doctor."

"Thanks, Jack." You don't say what you want to, which is that he's describing himself, too. The man's trying to teach a lesson, after all, and you've seen his disdain when his lessons have been hijacked before.

"Got any plans after work?" he asks.

"Besides still trying to get used to working nights?"

He chuckles. "Can't help you there. But if you're not feeling like the walking dead come seven, I know a great diner in the area. We can share some more ghost stories, maybe. Only condition is that you can't divulge the location after we go, no matter how much you may want to sing its praises. I can't go having my favorite breakfast spot overrun by interns and residents, after all."

It's a good thing that you're still facing away from Jack, because you wouldn't be able to school your face to some neutral expression fast enough. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't carried a bit of a torch for Jack for a while—the kind of crush that's easy to sustain when you work opposite shifts and your interactions are in stolen five-minute interactions before your shift ends and his begins. If this were day shift, you know Dana would be teasing you endlessly and going on about the betting pool that's allegedly been steadily gaining money since you volunteered to temporarily move to nights.

("Garcia has twenty on you both being too chicken to make a move before Gibbons returns from paternity leave," Dana whispered to you last week when she was supposed to be giving you a status update on the Kraken before clocking out for the night. "Don't give her a win."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you claimed, cheeks burning as you focused on reading from the tablet in your hands.)

"Let me guess, the VFW?" you tease.

"Nah, their pancakes suck."

On your next exhale, when the heaviness in your chest seems to have finally abated, you turn around to face Jack. He's closer than you thought he would be, a couple of feet away at most. Close enough that you can see the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. "Alright, we can go to your super secret breakfast spot. But I'm expecting world-class waffles, deal?"

"Deal."

When Jack wraps an arm around your shoulders in a loose hug, he doesn't put it down again until right before the elevator doors open on the ER. You don't mind in the slightest.

[astraljedi]

No grave can hold my body down (Tommy Miller)

Request: Can you write reader trying to find a way to tell Tommy she's pregnant but tragedy keeps happening. It could follow episode 2 from the latest season. Thank you in advance!

Pairing: Tommy Miller x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for TLOU, Violence, descriptions of blood loss, wounded characters, death of a parent/love one, grief, heavy themes of loss. NSFW. 18+, scenes contain sexual themes, P in V, minor dirty talk, using sex as a release

Word Count: 6k+

Song: Work Song by Hozier

a/n: Request are open if you want to send something in! This is a continuation of "Safe and Sound" but you don't technically need to read it together. Enjoy!

- No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

My eyes flutter open to the sound of shuffling and a belt buckle clinking so early in the morning. I stretch my body, squinting from the bathroom light spilling across the room. It’s still dark outside, not fully morning yet—Frederick hasn't even started singing.

“Tommy?” I squeak, still stretching my limbs against the cold comforter.

“Mornin’. Sorry, baby, the council’s getting together.” Tommy sits on the edge of the bed, on my side, and presses a kiss to my temple. I reach for his hand, watching how the silver wedding band glints under the bathroom light. We've been married a couple of years now, but every time I see that ring, it still makes my stomach flutter. “Something happened on patrol, but I’ll try and find you later. Okay?”

“Will it take long? I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say, thinking of the sealed, untouched pregnancy test hidden in my bag. I want to take it with him, not by myself.

“I don’t know, but can it wait ‘til later? I really gotta go.” He leans down, gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “Try and sleep for a while. I’ll let the chickens out before I leave.”

I sink back into bed, watching him pull on his jacket and disappear out the door. But I don’t fall back asleep—the small bit of rest still left in me is gone. I wait until I hear the front door shut before I get up and pull the pregnancy test from my bag, heading for the bathroom.

The past week has been terrible. At first, I thought I’d caught some awful stomach bug—vomiting day and night, no appetite, and the heartburn felt like it was eating me alive. 

Tommy stayed most nights with me, rubbing my back, bringing me warm soup, doing whatever he could to help me keep something down.

Even Maria had stopped by a few times, but right before New Year's, she handed me a sealed pregnancy test while Tommy was out. “This is sacred,” she said. “Had to pull a few favors, but just to be sure.”

Since Tommy’s Maria’s right hand, we’ve gotten close over the years, ever since I joined the community. “It never crossed my mind,” I admitted, taking the box with shaky hands. It wasn’t like we’d done anything to prevent it... but the idea of bringing a kid into a world full of infected has always haunted me.

Now, I’m leaning against the bathroom sink while the test sits on the counter, face down and terrified of the results. Three minutes have never felt this long. I pick it up and turn it over—two clear lines stare back at me.

“Shit.” I throw the test into the sink and scramble to the toilet, my stomach lurching as I throw up everything inside me. Even after a shower and brushing my teeth, my eyes keep returning to the test. 

I grab it, shove it back into its box, and cram it into the drawer Tommy keeps saying he’ll fix but never does. It takes a minute to get it open, and once it does, I toss the box inside and slam the drawer shut with all the strength I have. If only I could the same with the storm of thoughts brewing in my head. 

True to his word, Tommy let the chickens out and fed them. I stand at the window, watching them peck the ground, the early sun beginning to stretch across the yard. I open the fridge, but even the thought of eggs makes me gag. I settle for bread with a little butter and some tea, since even plain water seems to set me off.

Before the school year starts, I’d already planned to head to town for some trades. I pack my bag with two cartons of eggs and a few bars of my homemade lavender soap, hoping to exchange them for a couple of new bound notebooks for my lesson planning, and maybe any other supplies I can scrounge up.

Town is busier than usual—barrels being rolled through the street, trucks getting loaded, and people moving fast. Had to be a drill, probably connected to why Tommy left so early. I rush to get my trades done, even managing to grab a flannel and a jacket for Tommy in exchange for offering the seller’s kids free haircuts through the first half of the year.

I catch a glimpse of Tommy near the gates talking with a group and watch as he sends them off. It’s like he feels me watching—he turns around and spots me.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask once he’s pulled me into his arms.

“We’ve placed the town on high alert. Might be nothing, but two patrol members found a group of thirty infected using their own dead to hide,” he sighs, eyes scanning the street. I reach up to tuck a loose curl behind his ear.

“Are they okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. They sprinted back to warn us, and we sent out a squad to clear the infected. We just don’t know if there are more, so we’re preparing—making sure everyone’s up to date with protocols.” He nods toward my bag. “Shopping?”

“Just getting a few things before school starts. Got you a jacket too—for when it starts warming up a little.” I show him a peek of the fabric and he smiles. “Do you think you can come home early today? If nothing big happens—I really need to do something with you.”

“I’ll try. Depends on how this all plays out.” He gestures toward the town, and I nod. I understand. Tommy would do anything to keep Jackson safe.

He presses his lips to mine, but we break apart at the sound of bells ringing above the wall.

“Raiders or infected?” Maria asks, suddenly beside us.

“Infected!” someone shouts back. “Five minutes out!”

“Follow the plan. I’ll take the roof, you take Main Street,” Maria says to Tommy.

“Go to the shelter. Now,” Tommy orders. I grab his hand and pull him in for a quick kiss. When we break apart, we nod to each other—a silent promise to stay alive.

I run to the nearest store where people are already being ushered into the basement for shelter.

That’s when I hear a cry from my right. I turn and see Billie—a little boy I had in my class last year—standing alone, crying for his mom. I rush to him and grab his hand. I search for Franny, his mother, but she’s nowhere in sight.

“Hey Billie, we need to hide now, but I promise we’ll find your mom after, okay?”

He nods, still crying, but lets me lead him down into the basement. I find a spot near the back and sit on the floor, pulling Billie into my lap and holding him close.

“We have to be brave, Billie. Okay?”

He nods, curling into my chest. “Are the monsters gonna find us?”

“No. The town will protect us. And Mr. Miller is out there and you can trust him to keep everyone safe.” I squeeze him tighter.

The chaos outside is impossible to ignore—gunfire, shrieking, explosions. Billie cries into me, but I don’t let him go.

“It’s okay, buddy. We’re safe,” I whisper, though even my own heart feels like it’s about to pound out of my chest.

Each crack of glass, each thud or scream from upstairs makes me flinch. The infected have breached the town. Billie covers his ears with his hands, and I close my eyes, trembling every time the gunshots fire again and again.

Please be okay, I think. Please let Tommy be okay.

It takes hours—maybe more than two—for everything to settle, though the gunfire still rings out now and then, putting down those who got bitten. We’re still locked in the reinforced basement, but I’m growing impatient. 

When they finally give the all-clear, the sky is beginning to set, thick with smoke. Fires burn in every corner, cremating the infected. The smell is awful. I pull Billie close, shielding his eyes from the sight.

“Billie!” a voice cries out—and there’s Franny, running toward us. Billie slips out of my arms and sprints to her, hugging her tight. Relief hits me like a wave, and I fight back tears.

“I was with Mrs. Miller! She kept me safe and told me I was being brave,” Billie tells her, pointing at me.

“Thank you,” Franny says, pulling me into a grateful hug.

“Have you seen Tommy?” I ask, but she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry.” She gives my arm a squeeze before heading off to find her husband.

I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing down the wave of nausea rising up again. My eyes scan the crowd, avoiding the bodies. I start to feel dizzy, overwhelmed by every face passing by—until I spot him.

Blood’s dripping down from a cut on his head, but he’s standing. He’s alive.

I don’t think—I just run. He turns at the last second, just as I reach him, throwing my arms around his neck.

“You’re okay,” I whisper, the only thing I could say, again and again. 

He melts into me, his knees buckling and I let him lean all his weight into my arms. His face buries into my neck, and finally, I feel him exhale.

“I got you,” I whisper, and I don't let go.

The nightmare doesn’t stop.

The day had faded into complete darkness, fire overtaking the town at every corner. 

“I’m worried about Joel, darlin’,” Tommy winces as the wet cloth meets his broken skin. “He was on patrol with Dina, and they weren’t answering their radios.”

“The storm’s been the worst we’ve seen. They probably found somewhere to stake it out,” I try to make sense of it.

“I don’t know. I have this feeling that something’s wrong, and it hasn’t settled down yet,” he says. I grab his hands and press a kiss to his rough knuckles. One moment I’m cleaning Tommy’s head, and then Maria comes rushing in.

“Tommy—” Maria rushes into the hall, and I don’t like the look on her face. My stomach drops, like it already knows.

Tommy stands up instantly, and with the look on Maria’s face, he already knows too. “No.”

“It’s Joel,” Maria says, eyes shifting from me to Tommy. 

Tommy’s face is emotionless, his hands in fist by his side. His fear, his gut was trying to tell him and I tried to push it away. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy doesn’t say a word. He lets go of my hand and rushes to the door.

“Tommy.” I go after him, but he stops me, grabbing my arms.

“I need to be alone. I need to do this myself.” His face is emotionless, but he leaves a kiss on my temple. I watch him disappear through the crowd and rub the spot on my chest where my heart is. This can’t be happening.

“Where’s Ellie?” I ask Maria. “Does she know?”

“She was there.” Maria’s voice doesn’t break, but I can feel the walls cracking. “She’s at the hospital.”

I don’t know what comes over me, but I rush toward the hospital. 

God, Ellie.

The long night fades to the next day, I’m still by Ellie’s side, reading a book while she’s still out on tranquilizers.

“Hey.” I turn my head toward the door and spot Maria leaning against the frame. “How is she doing?”

I close my book and stand from the uncomfortable chair. “Still out,” I say, standing by her. “I went to see Dina, trying to make sense of what happened, but she said she doesn’t remember.” My hands rest on my stomach and I lean back against the doorframe. My eyes are tired, my stomach growling angrily at me, but I haven’t had the chance—or appetite—to eat.

“Did you see a doctor?” Nothing passes Maria. She points at my hand resting on my non-existent bump. Ever since finding out, my hands keep drifting there. “Does Tommy know?” she whispers.

I drop my hand from my stomach and look back at Ellie. “I don’t think an unplanned pregnancy is the first thing I should tell my grieving husband right now. I haven’t even seen him since last night.”

“At least get checked out by someone, just in case.” She rests her hand on my arm.

“I’m fine, I promise, Maria. All I did was hide. You’re the badass on the roof shooting down infected,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

“I heard you protected Billie. He can’t stop talking about how Mrs. Miller told him he was the bravest of them all.” Maria smiles a little. “You should go home. Ellie isn’t going anywhere, and the doctors have her.”

I look at Ellie, peacefully sleeping on the bed, and I ache for her. Once she wakes up, it’s going to feel like she never left that nightmare. It’s been years, and the look on my daddy’s face—his cold, lifeless body—still burns in my brain.

“You need to rest too. And your husband needs you right now,” Maria adds, but I’m still looking at Ellie.

But Maria’s right.

After she leaves—off to check on Dina—I press a kiss to Ellie’s temple and leave the hospital. I pull my jacket tighter to my body as I walk home. It's a bit farther than the hospital, but it feels longer than usual. 

God, I need a shower. I need food I won’t throw up immediately.

I unlock the wooden front door and shiver from the awful weather outside. I shrug off my jacket, about to turn on the fireplace, but the house is already warm—fire crackling in the living room.

My eyes shift to the kitchen and spot Tommy leaning against the sink, watching the chickens through the window. He didn’t hear me. Doesn’t notice I’m home.

“My love,” my voice is soft but clear, but he doesn’t move a muscle. I take slow steps toward him and rest my hand on his lower back. He flinches—my touch pulling him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” I say gently.

He doesn’t speak. He shakes his head and pulls me into his arms. His nose brushes my hair, and his hands tremble against my skin. What I would do to take his pain away—for him not to feel this grief, this life without his brother.

He just had him back, this wasn’t fair. 

We stay like that for a long time, holding onto each other in the aftermath of the nightmare. But only one of us lost a brother.

The town will rebuild, but Joel’s absence will haunt us. And the only two people who were there for his murder? One is out cold, and the other doesn’t remember anything.

“Let’s take a shower, yeah?” I mumble, pulling away a little and guiding him upstairs.

I unbuckle Tommy’s belt, remove his shirt, then help him out of the rest of his clothes. I strip down and turn the water on. He steps in first but then pulls me in under the lukewarm spray.

He crashes his lips against mine, desperate. He pushes me against the cold shower tiles, hands grabbing mine and pinning them above my head. I groan as his teeth bite into my lower lip, then move to my jaw.

He holds my wrists with one hand, the other trailing down my side to my core. My breath catches when he spreads my legs with his knee, fingers circling my clit. I gasp when he plunges two fingers inside me. My hands fight his grip—god, I need to touch him. My head spins from all the sensation. His lips, his tongue meeting mine, the hand holding my wrist up as the other thrust in and out me. 

His lips find my hard nipple and he sucks, his tongue swirling, making my back arch. “Tommy.” I warn him, hips meeting each of his thrusts.

I know Tommy. He craves control—needs it after everything. He needs order, for things to go exactly how he wants. And when they don’t... he has me at his mercy.

He releases my wrists and kneels, tongue landing on my aching clit, sucking as his fingers keep moving in and out of me. I cry out, hands tangling in his now-wet curls. My mouth hangs open as my climax crashes through me—but he doesn’t stop. His groan rumbles through me and I cry out, his tongue sucking my release. 

“Tommy,” I beg, overstimulated and dizzy. He pulls back and stands. He grabs my waist, turning me around, my hard nipples pressed against the cold tile as he grinds his cock against my back. I reach back for him, but he grabs my hands again, pinning them over my head.

“Don’t you dare move them,” he growls, biting my shoulder. I moan, and then he plunges into me—no warning, no time to adjust. I press my forehead to the tile and let him take me. However he needs. He lets go of my wrists and grips my waist, pulling me back into every thrust.

I don’t care if I wake up tomorrow with bruises shaped like his fingers. I’ll always let him use me—to feel and release his anger.

My walls tighten around him—he’s close, right on the edge. His hand slides down and rubs my clit, fast, needing me to come with him.

“You’re gonna take all my cum, right darlin’?” he groans, his thrusts turning sloppy. I turn my head and meet his mouth, tasting myself on his tongue. I shatter around him, eyes shut, forcing myself to keep my hands where he told me. Tommy buries his face in my shoulder and comes right after me, my orgasm triggering his own. My walls clench around him, juicing his cock as he chest falls on my back. 

He doesn’t move. We stay under the water, catching our breaths. He stays inside me for a while. And If I weren’t already pregnant, this would’ve done it.

I wince when he finally pulls out. I turn and kiss him—soft this time. Gentler.

“Let’s clean you up,” I say, grabbing the cloth. I lather the lavender soap and run it slowly over his skin. My legs wobble, but his hands steady me at the waist.

He stands still, eyes closed, letting me care for him. Then he switches, does the same for me—gently washing down my shoulders, my stomach between my thighs. I sigh, still sensitive.

After the shower, I help him into sweatpants and tuck him into bed. I kiss his cheek and lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat drum beneath me.

I’m nearly asleep when I hear his soft sniffles. I look up and see his face wet with tears. My heart shatters.

I cup his cheek, wiping them away with my thumb. He pulls me on top of him and wraps his arms around me.

I don’t say anything. I just let him feel—feel the sadness, the anger, the grief.

Years ago, when he helped me move to Jackson after my dad died, we lay in this exact bed. He held me all night while I cried. Never let go. And now… it’s my turn to do the same. To let Tommy grieve in the same bed I once did. To guide him through the darkness, like he once guided me.

For now, the pregnancy test, this secret will stay hidden in that broken drawer.

Right now, Tommy needs me more than anything.

Three weeks have passed since New Year’s. Three weeks since the whole town was struck with tragedy. The hole Joel’s absence leaves behind is still so fresh—the front of his house overflowing with flowers from the people of Jackson.

Tommy isn’t doing any better. Grief doesn’t have a cure, and it never makes sense. Sadness lingers, always. But right now, he needs a distraction—and rebuilding the town has become that for him.

The test is still hidden in the drawer, but Maria keeps asking. I know she’s only looking out for me, making sure I’m okay, making sure this pregnancy is safe. But how do you tell a grieving husband you’re pregnant when his brother’s body was just laid to rest?

It’s eating me alive. But I have to wait—just a little longer. Tommy barely spends any time in the house these days. He leaves before the sun even rises and comes home late, slipping into bed after I’m already asleep.

But today… today he catches me off guard. I turn around and Tommy’s still in bed, just watching me.

“What?” I ask, giving him a weird look.

He doesn’t answer. He just leans over and starts kissing my neck. I sigh under his touch, letting him pull the oversized shirt from my body. His lips crash down on my nipples, and I wince—sharply, like I’ve been hurt. Tommy pulls back fast, eyes wide.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, confused.

I yank the covers up over my chest and sit up. “No, my period’s supposed to be here soon.” I cringe inside. I hate lying. And I know he doesn’t fully believe me, but he lets it go. Whatever mood he was in, it fades fast.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“No, it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, getting out of bed. He adjusts his boner, trying to play it cool, and disappears into the bathroom. A second later, I hear the shower turn on. I lie back on my pillow, eyes drifting to the ceiling, waiting for my heart to calm down.

In the kitchen, he’s cooking eggs for himself, and I’m trying my best not to gag from the smell. I hide my face behind my coffee cup, fighting the wave of nausea crawling up my throat.

“You sure you don’t want some eggs with your toast?” he asks, pointing to the sad little plate sitting untouched in front of me.

“No. I’m not really that hungry this morning.” Another lie. I’m starving. I’ve been craving pie from the restaurant since last night, and the second Tommy leaves, I’m marching straight to Main Street to get it.

“Have you seen Ellie?” I ask, needing to change the subject.

“Yeah. I went to visit her yesterday. Dina’s getting released today—she’s feeling better, but she still doesn’t remember anything.”

Tommy’s hoping Dina might remember who was behind what happened to Joel—the people who took his brother away from him.

“If she does remember something, it might take a while,” I say gently. “We don’t know what kind of trauma she went through.”

“It’s not fair. I should’ve been there.” He scrapes the eggs off the pan and piles them onto his plate like he’s mad at them. I look away, focusing on my toast, breathing slowly through my nose, trying not to throw up.

“I get it. But you were here, protecting the town. If something had happened here while you were gone, you’d be carrying that guilt too.” I’ve listened to him, let him rant for weeks. But sometimes, he needs someone to ground him.

“I know you’re right,” he mutters, placing his empty plate in the sink—just a little too hard. “But it still makes me angry.”

“And it should. None of this is fair—especially when someone does something this evil. But we can still do what Joel would’ve wanted. We keep this town together.” I stand up, walk to him, and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my forehead against his back. His hands find mine, and he holds them there.

“I hate it when you make sense,” he chuckles. “But I love you. I’m sorry I haven’t been around that much. I know you loved him too.”

“I miss him. And I miss him storming in here, yelling about how Frederick would peck his damn feet in the yard.” I laugh, the memories of him bursting through the door, cursing at that rooster, rushing back all at once.

“He hated that rooster,” Tommy says through a laugh, and then we just stand there, quiet and still.

After breakfast, he heads out for a long day of work, and I head into town—on a mission to get my damn pie. Thankfully, school doesn’t start for another week, and I’m praying that by then, my symptoms will ease up. The idea of being surrounded by kids while trying not to puke at every smell? Not ideal.

At the restaurant, Maria slides in beside me in line. I feel awful. I’ve been avoiding her. I know she’s right—I do need to tell Tommy. I won’t be able to hide this much longer, but every time I try, the words get stuck.

And it’s not that I don’t think he’ll be thrilled—I see the way his eyes sparkle whenever I hold someone else’s baby or one of my students runs up to me in the street. Tommy Miller will make an excellent father. My fear is… is this too much too soon?

“Can you wait until after I eat my pie to ambush me?” I groan. “I’ve been craving this since last night.”

She laughs. “I remember those days.” She nudges my shoulder as we step up to the counter.

“Hi Franny! How are you today?” I ask, leaning against the counter.

“I’m good, hon. What can I get for you two dolls?”

“Can I get two pieces of pie? To go, please—I’m going to see Ellie after this.” My eyes are already sparkling with excitement.

“Doll, I think we’re outta pie,” Franny says with a frown.

Maria glances at me, and the tears well up instantly. “Oh no.” I don’t mean to cry, but the sadness rushes over me and I can’t hold it back.

“Can you check in the back, Franny?” Maria jumps in. “She’s been wanting to bring that pie to Ellie, you know… after everything.”

Franny raises a brow but nods. “Lemme double-check.” She disappears into the back.

“Honey, please don’t cry,” Maria says gently, rubbing her hands up and down my arms.

“God, I’m sorry,” I mumble, wiping my face.

“No need to be sorry. It’s just the hormones,” she whispers.

Just then, Franny comes back holding two to-go boxes.

“You’re one lucky gal. Marvin just pulled these out of the oven. Still warm—for you and Ellie.” She places them in a paper bag.

“You’re a lifesaver, Franny.” I grab the bag like it’s gold.

Maria snorts as we step outside. “That was a dramatic thank-you.”

“Please stop. I’ve been craving this and my stomach can’t take one more piece of toast and butter.” It’s already growling from the scent of pie through the paper.

“You can’t keep this up. You need to tell him,” Maria says quietly. “Franny has three kids—she’s gonna figure it out. So will the rest of the town. He deserves to know before the rumors start and that bump pops out.”

“I’ve tried,” I groan. “And then he starts talking about Joel or he’s stressed with work and the moment’s gone again.”

“There’s never gonna be a perfect time. But think of the baby. You need to get checked. What if something goes wrong? He’ll lose you both.”

That stings. My throat tightens, my chest aches.

“Maria, I love you, but right now… your words are hurting more than helping.” We stop outside the hospital, but I don’t move yet. “I know you’re worried. But I need you to be my friend right now—not the head of the council.”

I slip my arm out of hers and walk away, leaving her standing there by the entrance.

When I step into Ellie’s room after a quick knock, she scrambles up from doing push-ups beside the bed and I pretend I didn’t see it. She’s a fighter, doing what she knows best—surviving.

“I brought you some pie.” I hand her the container and plastic fork. “It’s our secret.” I grin, probably a little too happy about pie.

“You’re the best. The food here is awful.” She fake-gags and I laugh. From the times I’ve visited, her food’s mostly stayed untouched. Even after the end of the world, hospital food still sucks.

I don’t plan to stay until evening, but I can’t bring myself to leave. She’s reading one of the astronomy books I brought, and I curl up on the edge of her bed with my own. The sun’s setting when I finally stand to go.

I kiss the top of her head. “I’ll try to find more books, okay?”

She nods, and I wish I could stay. But my body’s already screaming at me. My lower back aches and I still have to walk home.

Snow crunches under my boots as I walk up to the house. The lights are on, the living room glowing from the fireplace. Tommy’s home.

“Hey, baby,” I say, kicking off my boots and jacket once I’m inside, away from the awful chill. Tommy’s on the couch, his back to me, but he doesn’t answer.

I walk around to face him, a knot of worry forming—and then I freeze.

He’s staring at me, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His eyes drift to the coffee table and my stomach drops.

Right in the center of the table is the opened pregnancy test box. The plastic stick resting on top.

“You know I peed on that, right?” I whisper. He doesn’t say a word. Just keeps staring at the test that’s been haunting me for weeks.

“Tommy.” I beg him. Beg him to move, speak, scream—anything.

“I came home early to see my wife. I couldn’t find her, so I decided to fix the damn drawer in the bathroom she’s been asking about for months.” He pauses, finishes his drink. “I fixed it, by the way. After I found the box.”

“Please—let me explain,” I say, dropping to my knees in front of him. He chuckles, bitter, in disbelief, still not meeting my eyes.

“The vomiting. Not wanting to eat. Your breasts are huge, I caught myself staring at them more than usual and I know your body—it’s engraved in my brain. It all clicked. But the first thing I thought was that my wife wouldn’t keep something like this from me.”

The hurt in his voice shatters me and the tears start to fall down my cheeks.

“How long have you known?” he asks, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Since New Year’s,” I cry, but his face softens. He reaches for my elbows and pulls me into his lap.

“I wanted to take that test with you. That morning. But then you got called in and I… how was I supposed to tell you after everything?”

“You felt like you couldn’t tell me.” He cups my face, makes me look at him. “You’re my wife. This is our marriage. I deserved to know.”

I nod at his words, knowing he was right. “It’s been eating me alive,” I admit.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he sighs. “It’s been weeks. The stress you’ve been under—ain’t good for you or the baby.”

“I know. And I’m really sorry.”

His eyes meet mine—no anger left, just relief, and something warm. A look I haven’t seen in a while. 

“We’re going to be parents,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. I grab his hand and place it on my stomach, and he smiles.

“I can’t wait to see you wobbling around the house with a bump. It’s going to drive me insane.”

I laugh and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “All I want is to stop gagging and vomiting at everything.”

Two Months Later

Spring in Jackson is like seeing a different town. The snow’s melted, and animals are out and lively again—chattering, foraging, like they know things are safer now. Flowers start peeking through the soil, soft greens come back to the trees, and it feels like the whole place is exhaling after holding its breath all winter. The energy just shifts.

The mornings still carry that sharp bite, but once the sun settles in, it’s warm enough to finally pull out my comfy, soft midi dress tucked away in the closet for months. I pair it with a light jean jacket to block the wind and my usual boots. The dress flows when I walk, brushing against my legs, but it still clings just enough to show the small, growing bump I keep catching myself running my hand over.

“My littles!” I clap my hands, voice lifting to catch the attention of the little ones gathered by the fence. It keeps them in until the end of the school day, but now it’s time to let them go for the day and meet back with their parents. “Remember to bring flowers and leaves for tomorrow’s activity! And no pulling random flowers without asking an adult first,” I add, giving them a knowing look as I unhook the gate.

They burst out, squealing and shouting as they run to their parents, backpacks bouncing behind them. “See you tomorrow!” I call after them, waving at a few parents too as they exchange glances and little grins over whatever their kids are chattering about.

I stay a moment longer, watching them scatter. There’s something so healing in seeing their joy like that. They are safe within these walls and untouched by the reality of what happens outside those walls. I rest my hand gently on my bump and let the wind brush over me, letting my body relax.

Too caught up in the quiet and in the sun on my face, I jump when strong, calloused hands wrap around my waist—one landing on the swell of my bump, the other tugging me gently back into a chest I know—I gasp and let out a small squeal.

“Tommy,” I giggle, breathless as his lips press to my cheek. “What are you doing?”

“I managed to slip away for the day,” he says, already leaning down to scoop my bag from the ground. “Got something to show you.”

Since we found out, he’s been so careful. Not overbearing, not in a way that suffocates—but in this soft, sweet way that makes me feel loved and cared for. And he always finds a way to rest his hand on my belly, like he’s afraid it will all slip away.

“Is it my flower garden?” I ask, trying not to smile too big.

“Um, no,” he grins, “but I’ll get to it. I promise.” He takes my hand, my bag swinging from the other, and we walk together in the welcoming warm spring weather offers us. “But I know you’re gonna love this too.”

When we reach the house, he drops the bag gently on the porch—but we don’t go inside. Instead, he leads me around back, toward the shed behind the house where he keeps his tools, his projects. I already know the smell of wood shavings and sawdust will hit the second the door creaks open. But he stops me just short, stepping behind me and covering my eyes.

“Have you been hiding a secret from me?” I tease, cheeks starting to ache from smiling too much. 

“I have,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “But don’t worry. It’s a secret that was worth keeping.”

He guides me carefully, slow steps across the floor of the shed. When we stop, his hands slip away from my face. My eyes blink in the shift from dark to light, and then I see it.

A crib.

A wooden crib standing in the middle of the room. 

it’s not brand new—it's the bones of something old, something salvaged. He’s refinished it, though—rounded the corners, replaced the railings, sanded it down until the wood is soft beneath my fingertips. I move closer, hands trembling as I reach out to trace the grain, and I feel the lump rise in my throat before the tears come.

The headboard has tiny carvings—little stars and a crescent moon. So simple, the details and the thought of him doing this himself for our baby made my vision blur.

“This is beautiful,” I whisper, still taking it all in. He steps behind me again, his hand finding the place it always goes now—right over our baby.

“I found it a while back,” Tommy says. “And I thought our baby deserved a safe place to sleep. One made with love from my hands… and a touch of their mama’s love for stars and the moon.”

He presses a kiss to my shoulder, hands still anchored to me like he needs to memorize every second. 

“I know we’ve got plenty of time to set up the room,” he murmurs, “but I couldn’t help myself after I found this.”

I turn in his arms, my own wrapping around his neck. “You’re already the best damn dad. This is perfect, Tommy.”

He chuckles softly, his nose brushing mine. “I’ll be the best damn husband when I finish that flower garden.”

“No,” I whisper, smiling through another tear. “You’re already the best damn husband too.”

I close my eyes as his lips meet mine, and we stay like that for a moment. Soaking it all in. 

It’s been a couple of dark months. Some days still carry the weight of Joel’s absence, the ache of the loss this town suffered when the new year came in like a blade. That kind of pain doesn’t disappear. But moments like this—quiet, full of hope—they keep us grounded. Keep us alive.

It reminds us we’re still here. And there’s still so much left to fight for.

[skyguy8108]

😢

Jedi vs. Sith: The Essential Guide to the Force

We now know that Anakin Skywalker and Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo married in secret in the year 22 B.B.Y., just after the Battle of Geonosis. It was only after the astromech droid R2-D2 divulged recordings of Anakin and Amidala that contemporary scholars became aware of their relationship. It is almost a certainty that Anakin told no one of his marriage, and subsequent interviews with Amidala’s relatives have determined that family members were also oblivious.

After Leia Organa Solo discovered the identity of her mother, she realized that Pooja Naberrie—a former representative of Naboo and a friend she had known since her service in the Imperial Senate—was not only Padmé Amidala’s niece but also her own first cousin. In 35 A.B.Y., Pooja Naberrie recalled meeting Anakin when she was a child, just prior to the Battle of Geonosis:

I was just a little girl, only four years old, when I first saw Anakin. Oh, my. I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and so tall! My memory of him is entirely from a child’s perspective, and I still envision him as a giant.

I was at my grandparents’ home with my sister Ryoo, who’s two years older, when he came to Naboo. He came walking up the street with Aunt Padmé, and they brought an R2 unit. Ryoo and I always got so excited when Padmé would visit, because we sometimes didn’t see her for months at a time. And if you’re four and six years old, months can seem like years! Anyway, if I remember right, I think Ryoo and I must have thought that Anakin had brought the droid to us as a because we just started dancing around it, right there in the street outside the house. We were so silly.

I’d overheard someone say that Anakin was Padmé’s bodyguard, and I don’t think I thought there was anything strange about that. Padmé was often accompanied by a security officer named … Oh, my, what was his name? Ty? No, Captain Typho! Anyway, I just imagined that Anakin was Padmé’s boyfriend. I thought they both looked so beautiful together.

Well, Ryoo and I were just heartbroken when we learned that they weren’t staying at the house. They left just a few hours later for the Lake Country. I recall our mother saying something about Padmé needing to get away from the city and rest for a few days. We cried because we wanted the droid to stay and play with us!

A few days later, I remember there was some concern in our house about no one knowing where Padmé was. She and Anakin had been staying at a retreat in the Lake Country, but then they’d left without telling anyone where they were going. My mother was a bit frantic until a few days later, when she received word that Padmé was alive and well.

It wasn’t long after that that Padmé returned to Naboo with Anakin, and that was the second time I met him. I remember that encounter more clearly because of the way I reacted when I saw that his right hand had been replaced with a prosthetic. The fingertips were made of a gold-colored metal, and I thought it looked cold. And there were exposed wires. I guess it may have been just a temporary prosthetic. When my family and I greeted him and Padmé, I couldn’t stop myself from staring at his new hand. And then I looked up into his eyes.

He looked … well, I thought he looked angry, and I just started crying. Maybe he was angry, but in hindsight, I’m certain it had nothing to with me. My mother apologized for my behavior, but Anakin said there was no reason for anyone to be sorry. He knelt down beside me, held out his left hand to me, and asked me if I’d put my hand in his. I did. He smiled and gave my fingers a gentle squeeze, then said, “That’s for good luck, so we’ll all hang on to our fingers from now on.” I’m sure he just wanted to make me feel better, and he did. But I still felt so awful for him for losing a hand.

And then, three years later, Padmé was dead. It was awful. She was so young. And no one in our family seemed to know how she had died, or at least no one told us. My sister and I did learn that there had been assassination attempts, and that was why Anakin had been acting as her bodyguard.

At her funeral, I didn’t just weep for her. I thought Anakin was dead, too. We’d heard that the Jedi had attempted to overthrow the Republic, and that most of the Jedi had been killed. To Ryoo and me, Anakin was our hero. We couldn’t imagine him doing anything wrong. I had all sorts of fantasies about how he might have been killed or injured while trying to save Padmé, or that he’d gone into hiding because he refused to participate in the so-called Jedi takeover. Silly dreams.

But all that was … How long ago? About fifty-five years, I think. And now, my dear friend Leia Organa Solo tells me about her discovery that Padmé was her mother, and of what became of Anakin. My head is still reeling. I’ve known Leia ever since we both served in the Imperial Senate, and to think that neither of us ever had the slightest inkling that we were first cousins.

If Leia hadn’t told me herself, I don’t think I ever would have believed that Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader. It’s just so … so entirely inconceivable that that lovely young man could have become Vader. And yet that’s exactly what happened, isn’t it? To think I held his hand. His good hand. Oh, my.

the naberrie family over the years <3 (happy may the 4th!!)

(commission info // tip jar!)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

it is 2am rn i should be asleep but i'm high on the buzz from reading literally everything you've written with her so i'm doing something i've never before and asking: Furina confession?

also, again, love the writing, tumblr one-shot writers truly make the world... something idk i need to sleep

(Genshin Impact) Furina Confessing to Reader

I exist because content for the girls does not (or at least anything recent besides myself and others I can count on like one hand. On tumblr anyway, on AO3, BOY IS THAT A LOT OF SMUT)

Furina stood in the mirror, staring at herself and taking a deep breath.

Right now, she was in nothing more than a plain shirt and baggy pants since there was no home.

Her hair was also a bit disheveled, but appearances didn't matter right now!

Exhaling finally, Furina nodded to herself and recited her line.

(Furina) "(Y/N). I'm in love with you-!"

She elegantly gestured outwards with her hand, ready to go off on a mini-tangent, endlessly showering them with praise and dramatics...

...Until she sighed, shaking her head. Theatrics wouldn't do. This was something that deserved to come from her heart.

For the fat lot of good that was.

Furina slowly tapped her finger against the sink, eyes trailing down as her thoughts began to wander.

She had impersonated an Archon for centuries, performed in countless theater productions, faced the music of her people's judgement, and came out a new person, truly her own.

And yet, confessing to (Y/N) was up there in the most stressful of tasks.

They were one of the few people to treat Furina normally after the truth was revealed, and actively stuck around in her life after the fact much to her relief.

(Y/N) treated her as a friend, first and foremost, even when she was still under the guise of an Archon.

Any time spent with them caused her heart to race, and before she realized it, she fell head over heels for them.

And with the disaster looming over Fontaine averted, Furina could finally follow her heart.

And that terrified Furina to no end.

(Furina) "Ugh...! Focus! It shouldn't be that hard!"

Shaking her head again, she decided to leave the mirror and flop onto her bed, face first.

It wouldn't really help, but it'd at least just get her distracted. At least it would've, if she didn't hear a knock on her door.

Not bothering to check or remove her face from the mattress, a very muffled-

(Furina) "Who is it?"

Answered the knock.

(Y/N's Voice) "Furina. Are you okay? I can barely hear you!"

Furina quickly rolled onto her back and shot up straight like a bullet, eyes widening in surprise.

(Furina) "(Y/N)?! Oh, um! A moment, please! I'm not decent yet!"

She cursed her clothes that were still drying, rapidly darting left and right to see if any of her fancy dresses were ready!

Why was this happening now?! (Y/N) was supposed to meet up with her tomorrow!

(Y/N) "I just came by to drop off some food, I had leftovers and figured you would want some! I can leave if you-"

(Furina) "N-NO! Don't!"

After realizing that she said that a little too fast, she quickly cleared her throat and attempted to compose herself.

(Furina) "I wished to talk to you about something, actually!"

Realizing what she just said, she could hear her inner self screaming.

(Furina) WAITWAITWAIT! Maybe if I can say, later, I can have time to-

(Y/N) "May I come in now?"

(Furina) "Yes! You may-"

(Furina) WHY IN THE HELL DID YOU SAY YES?! (Also Furina) I DON'T KNOOOOOWWW!

(Y/N) entered the room, putting aside a picnic basket on her drawer, before turning to Furina with a smile.

(Y/N) "Hah, dress still in the dryer?"

(Furina) "Tch, unfortunately! Though, I was not expecting anyone to show up today either."

(Y/N) just smiled at that and sat on her bed, growing a little more serious.

(Y/N) "What did you wanna talk about?"

Furina's heart threatened to bust from her chest, but she did her best to calm it down and sat next to them, a respectable distance away as well.

Taking one last deep breath, she closed her eyes and turned to (Y/N), giving them a stare and speaking directly from her heart.

(Furina) "I bike you."

(Y/N) remained still, hands still in their lap, and a moment of silence passing between the two of them.

Furina clenched her fists, watching to see if (Y/N) would react in any negative way.

After what seemed like an eternity, (Y/N) finally gave their answer:

(Y/N) "...Bike?"

(Furina) "...Eh?"

(Y/N) "You bike me?"

(Furina) I MESSED UP?! NONONONOTHISCAN'TBEHAPPENINGHOWCOULDIHAVEFLUBBEDTHISUPSOBAD?!ICANNEVERFACETHEMAGAIN-

(Y/N) mercifully noticing her face turn bright red, only chuckled lightly before trying to help calm her down, by grabbing her hands and squeezing them.

It seemed to have worked as Furina was anchored back into the real world instead of her self-berating thoughts, (Y/N) smiling softly.

(Y/N) "Do you want to try that again?"

With how carefully Furina's hands were being held, she was confused.

Did they...Return her feelings?

The way they were smiling, the way their eyes seemed to glow with affection.

A small smidge of confidence coming back to her, she again steeled herself and spoke slowly.

(Furina) "I like you, (Y/N). You mean more to me than just a friend. You have been by my side for all these years, and have never stepped away, no matter what came. Will...you continue to do so?'

Not knowing her heart could beat even faster, she saw (Y/N) nod, moving closer to close the gap.

(Y/N) "I'd love nothing more, if you'd have me."

The corner of Furina's eyes were pricked with tears, Furina immediately going in for a hug, one that (Y/N) happily reciprocated.

After a far too brief dozen or so seconds, they pulled back and just smiled at each other. Until (Y/N) spoke.

(Y/N) "I came in while you were practicing to say that, didn't I?"

Furina stammered, quickly pouting while her blush gave her away.

(Furina) "I didn't need to practice! I just needed to speak from the heart is all!"

(Y/N) "So bike is how you really feel about me then, huh?"

(Furina) "D-DON'T TEASE ME!"

Furina squeaked when (Y/N) embraced her again, though after a defiant moment, she sighed and returned their affection, the two saying nothing and staying like that for a little while longer.

Even if it wasn't the way she intended, at least it ended happily.

...Maybe this was a better way to convey her feelings anyway.

==

Bonus:

The panel that directly inspired the dialogue in this ask

A/N: I wasn't even gonna mention this last part, but my writer's integrity refuses to pass that bit off as original. Credit where credit is due, it's from an original Doujin called "The Show Must Go On!" by an artist named Chicken. I cannot link the source because it's AHEM, a spicy one, but nevertheless! I found it too cute to not utilize! And also because that absolutely seems something Furina would do.

[defanged-waterlily]

perverted therapist who constantly has to try to hold herself together when i talk to her about everything wrong with me.

preying on my weakness and agreeability by suggesting increasingly humiliating solutions to my problems. she tells me that a step to healing my childhood trauma is to start wearing diapers in my free time, and touches herself at night to the thought of it.

she steps further, suggesting that i start wearing them to our sessions. telling me that to depend on others more will truly help me. to serve and do as they'd like. she tells me to start calling her "mommy", supposedly to heal parental issues. something feels off to me. she has an odd look in her eyes. but she's a professional, and i'm one who does as they're told.

a few sessions later, i'm in her office on my knees. i'm in a dress far too short to hide my soaked padding with her cock thrusting into my throat. that nasty oral fixation has hurt my fingers and damaged my teeth, but she knows just the way to begin taking care of it.

while she's still fucking my mouth, pushing my mind further. seeing how much i'll bring myself down because i trust her. or maybe she's just telling me exactly what i want to hear.

"i have some homework for you this week. that girl you said you live with? let her use you. it'll help that oral fixation and be good practice allowing yourself to be so low. you have a problem with pride."

my "pride problem" was identified when i told her that i don't want to display my diapers all the time at home and the office, and that i want to be able to cover them up.

suggesting that i begin taking sedatives to help my anxiety.

slowly reshaping me into a docile, servile little thing until one session, she takes me to her car, and i do not question. she told me that questioning things holds me back from change. i do not speak. she told me that speaking when not spoken to is what gives me so much conversational trouble.

i'm doing so good. i'm doing everything she told me. i even wet myself and hardly noticed. i'm sure she'll be so proud of me when she asks how my progress is. she puts me in the back of her car. i sit politely with my hands folded in my lap, as she told me. she said it would help with my nail biting. i keep my eyes on her. she told me that i should always be looking at one of my betters (i think she calls them that to help me feel okay being vulnerable), as it helps me not to get lost in my maladaptive daydreaming, and keeps me always prepared to listen to what i'm told.

we pull up to her house. i sit and wait for instruction, as she told me my presumptuousness is a problem. i see her stare at me through the window as she gets out and makes her way to my side. she really does care.

she brings me inside and locks a collar around my neck. she told me that i should always accept gifts with much gratitude. i drop to my hands and knees in her home, as i need to learn that it's okay to be small and insignificant. she pulls my leash toward her, and my mouth opens so naturally as she begins to use my throat.

i'm going to be all better soon, i can feel it. she's helped me so much.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Reading Rooms

Inspired by some other gorgeous individuals, I thought I'd try and compile some of my weekly reading into some kind of list. Since throwing myself into the Marvel fandom and actually writing for these characters rather than just reading, I've followed - and been followed by (cue fangirl shriek) - some epic blogs, and I want to be able to throw as many new readers and followers their way as I can.

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

Lessons in Love-Making by @artficlly. I've only read the first chapter so far, but this already has me totally hooked! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Not a Fairy Tale Kiss (no names for this exist) by @azriona . This is the very definition of EPIC. A staggering word count, an absolute feat of storytelling. I've barely scratched the surface of this so far, but I'm loving every second. Posted on AO3, so head over there for your fix! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

@mrs-elsie-barnes , the writer that you are! I have a whole heap of recommendations here. First up, Policy & Procedure - if you like your Bucky Congressman shaped, this Bucky Barnes x Reader fic has your name on it. Then we have the little (slightly spoilery) Thunderbolts* drabble - Home Time - Bucky Barnes x Reader. Finally, we have the super hot - I've got to let you know (I need you tonight) featuring Joaquin Torres x Reader.

The 2k Drabble Challenge by @marvelstoriesepic is bananas. The dedication, the range, the heartbreak, and longing... ugh, these are all incredible, but my personal highlights are Misfire, Where We Were When The Stars Came Out, What the Mirror Doesn't Say & Tattoo Me In Flowers. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Put Your Hands In Mine by @buck-star is so moving and vitally important. I loved it so much. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Oil & Water by @flowersforbucky was so insanely hot it had me squealing. It is literally perfect if you would like to sit on that man's face. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Charm and Claim by @ramp-it-up were both so excellent and super hot! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

@aquaticmercy is a genius and the writing is impeccable and when I tell you I RUN to every post... I've so much to catch up on, but Interstate Love Song was gorgeous. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Let Me Hurt a Little Longer by @daxisyzz was so good! I loved the slightly manipulative POV, who wouldn't want Bucky's hands on them?! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

The Dog Tags series by @marvelwitchergilmore is brilliant! Part 1 is linked, be sure to check out the rest, and what a masterlist to get stuck into - especially for my Slow Horses babes because there's some River Cartwright in there, too! (cc. @cillmequick @dreamer-98 @annaelizabethhenry1 @liquid-confidenc3 💕)

Then we have @navybrat817 , who is pure genius and her post Thunderbolts* fic Not Exactly A Secret. Navy's setting up a Tower Shenanigans list, so expect more from the Thunderbolts*. As well as this, I read the excellent Late Night and Late Night Recap. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

I came across @jobean12-blog 's This Is Love this week, an oldie but a very goodie! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

If you haven't read Security Clearance by @societyfolklore yet, why?! This was soooo hot! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

And lastly, I'm sharing this little New Dad Bucky Headcannon by @sunday-bug , and lemme tell ya, it will not be the last thing I share of Sunny's! I can't wait to get stuck into her Masterlist because it's going to take over my life in the best possible way!

This covers everything I've read this week 🙌

God, I hope the links all work cos that took forever 🤣. Apologies for sharing via my own slightly unhinged reblogs. Next time, I'll try and make sure I share original links where possible!

💕

pressing post and hoping all the tags work 🫡

[sourappl3s]

➳༻❀YOU ALREADY HAVE YOUR DESIRES❀༺➳

you already have your desires the moment you say you do, so congratulate yourself you finally made it the end! don’t ask “where is it” don’t ask “how” because you simply have all it in imagination. imagination is your source make it your home! fall in love with it, i won’t even call it desires anymore because you claimed them so now they’re just part of your daily life! for example if you say “I have 70 million dollars” then wow you have 70 million dollars! in imagination. go experience having 70 million dollars in imagination and know that you now have 70 million dollars. if you’re the person to think feeling is key then also feel as if you have 70 million dollars. don’t think against it don’t even complain saying “ugh im so broke” don’t do that, all you have to do is acknowledge you have it in imagination then relax and move on with your day, persist in that assumption, persistence doesn’t mean affirm until you’re tired, or affirm to “make things come faster” or to just try to get something in the 3D. its just not taking NO for an answer. its not affirm until you get its affirm as you see it. you’re the one who controls the when, where and how. if you’re letting the 3D do that for you then you won’t see any change, this is why we always say make your own rules for reality. MY rules are very simple.

have a desire , give it to myself in the 4D, persist and affirm in imagination.

its that simple! you don’t need to make manifesting feel like a chore, because in reality you’re not manifesting ANYTHING, you’re switching your awareness to something you already have. in simpler terms you’re just remembering that you have what you want already. to live in the end always always ALWAYSSS go to the end goal in imagination. you don’t need to focus on progress because manifesting is never a progress. its all instant. i’m not one to care about self-concept because i became a master at manifesting with a dull self concept. if you think you need self concept feel free to use it! remember its just my beliefs. manifesting is supposed to be fun and easy, don’t limit yourself to only one assumption, you can make a billion assumptions if you want and you will immediately have them all in imagination because inner man is the one that truly matters. the 3D is a mirror to the 4D so your success is inevitable. meaning you’re 100% guaranteed success! because you as god are in deserving of a paradise life. (sorry to the religious people if you don’t like being called god). just relax and breathe now, your suffering and misery are finally over now, you have what you once wanted, now live life without fear or panic, you have it, it’s already done. always look within for proof.

[at-this-point-i-dont-even-know]

Lean On Me (Part 6/7)

Pairing: Dr Michael 'Robby" Robinavitch x younger! Langdon's little sister! reader

Apologies and making up

Warnings: 18+ only MDNI, explicit sexual content, P in V sex and oral (female receiving)

(i don't normally write smut..... so I'm so sorry)

part five/ part six

taglist: @dayswithoutcoffee, @hagarsays, @4ishere, @omgbrianab, antisocialfiore, eugene-emt-roe @andabuttonnose @nosebeers @qardasngan

“Can we talk?”

You want to say no, tell him to fuck off and to leave you alone.

But one look at Michael's slumped shoulders and big brown sad eyes, all words of anger slowly fade away.

“You can wait outside and walk me home.” You say, nodding to the closing you were almost done with. It was another waitress's turn to mop the floors and close the till so all you had to do was pop some chairs on tables and find your comfy clothes and dog.

He didn’t protest, just turned on his heels and closed the door slowly, not letting it slam like it normally always did.

“Sweetie, I'll finish up. You go make that man grovel.” Holly says, her southern twang getting heavy as it always does the later the night goes. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Dog is excited to see you, wagging her tail and jumping as you put on your comfiest sweatpants and shirt, not a sexy outfit to make Michael grovel in, but other than your work uniform, that currently reeks of wings, this was all you had in your locker.

Michael was waiting by the front door when you came out, one hand in his pocket the other holding an almost filtered down cigarette in the other.

“Those things will kill you.” you say as a greeting, motioning for Dog to follow you, not waiting to see if Michael does.

But he does, because he waited to speak with you. With his longer legs he caught up quickly, only pausing for a moment to throw away the now dead cigarette in a bin.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out as you turn a corner onto a main street.

“For?” You’re being petulant and you can hear the bratty tone.

“I was judging you, and I had no right.”

“You don’t have any right.” You agreed.

“And I was mad.” He admits, his hand reaching out and stopping you. You can’t bring yourself to turn to face him though.

“Not at you, I was mad at your parents, at Frank, and the whole situation you have been stuck in.”

“You don’t get to be mad on my behalf Michael, I’m not mad.” 

He grabs your chin and pulls it gently so you’re looking up at him, and your knees threaten to buckle.

“You should be mad, you were a child forced to be an adult.”

“Michael-” you start and then stop, trying to process how to explain your life to him, “The injustice of everything is not new to me. I have been mad. I’ve thrown tantrums and screamed into the void. I’ve drunken myself into madness and pulled myself out of it. You have literally just learnt something I have been dealing with for years.”

You turn fully to him and with a shaky hand cup his jaw, “You are an incredible man, and friend, but not even you Doctor Michael Robinavitch, get to feel things on my behalf.”

He nods slowly and takes your hand from his face and holds it to his chest.

“Have you ever had anyone look after you?” it's almost a whisper the way he asks, and your heart does a little flip.

“Frank does it in his own way, when he’s clean, and I have friends, everyone in that club is my friend.”

“But no one looks just after you?”

You laugh and pull him along, Dog pulling on her lead to continue walking.

“I don’t have a Primary Care Provider, no.” you laugh at your own joke but Michael is still all serious. His brow again locked in the little ‘v’ shape and his mouth is tense.

“What?” 

“I want to look after you.”

His admission has you stopping again, your feet unable to move and your mouth open as you struggle to find a response.

“I want to look after you,” he says again, this time with more force, “I want to be the one you come to when everything's too much, or you need help.”

You shake your head and step away.

“It’s too much, Michael. You have enough on your shoulders, my burdens are not yours.”

“Your burdens are not even yours! Your burdens are from your parents and your brother! I want to help.”

“Michael, I like you- like a lot, but I don’t want someone to take away my burdens, or to save me.”

“I’m not trying to save you but-”

“No, if you want my burdens, then I get yours too. If you want this friendship I mean.”

At this point Dog is pulling more, wanting to continue her walk to find better and amazing smells. So you pull away from Michael, the word friendship hanging awkwardly between you two.

Was it a friendship?

Or was the tension you felt every time he was near something more?

“No.”

With one word you stop in your tracks.

No?

No to your friendship?

“I don’t want to be friends with you.” 

His voice is low, almost gravelly as he stands behind you, his chest against your back.

“Ok-” You try to step away, but he grabs your arms and turns you around. Dogs lead now wrapped awkwardly around your body as you look up at him, trying to hide the hurt in your eyes as you prepare for rejection.

A whimper catches in your throat as you look into his eyes, the look you get back in enough for your bones to melt and all inhibitions to fade away.

“I don’t want to be your friend.” he admits, his lips now a breath away from yours.

“I want you.” There’s a hunger in his words and suddenly his mouth descends and crashes into yours with such force you crumb, but his arms are around you holding you up.

You muster the strength to cling to him, grabbing at his shirt and pulling him closer. You are both fighting for dominance and for a need to be as close together as you can. 

He tastes like heaven on your tongue, minty and smokey from the cigarette. But there's more behind the kiss, a promise of safety and connection that wraps you up as tight as Michael does, holding you on the very public street.

“We should go-” you say against his lips, smiling as he groans, his knees buckling slightly as you nip at his bottom lip.

He ignores your weak protest and moves his attention from your lips to your neck, biting and scraping his teeth against your skin, you feel goosebumps and shivers as your body betrays you, screaming with want for his touch.

“I live around the corner.” you breath out, each word a struggle as Michael bites down on your collar bone, you just know an impossible to hide hickey is now forming.

He’s ignoring you, and ignoring Dog who is now whining at your feet.

You push him away, and smile up at him. The doctor is smiling, a big goofy smile as you gently bring your fingers to your lips, they are bruised and slightly scratched from his beard but you can’t help but mirror the dorky smile.

“Can I walk you home?” He asks, as if that wasn’t what had been the plan before you both lost yourselves in each other.

“Please.” you beg grabbing his hand and pull him down the street.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You barely make it inside the apartment before you’ve kicked off your shoes, and hurrying Dog into her crate, the young puppy excited to get into her bed and was asleep before her head was on the plush bedding. 

You turn to Michael slowly as you double lock your door and watch him take in the small apartment.

Frank's place was practically unfurnished, a couple of bar stools at the kitchen counter, a couch in the small living room and two bedrooms which had two box queen beds and no bedside tables.

 Your underwear has been thrown on the floor from this morning and your dishes are still on the counter after you and Dog had shared a toasted cheese before work.

But Michaels eyes barely register any of that as he turns back to you, the hunger reflecting back.

“Come here.” he commands, and you obey, cursing yourself for how quick you are to do what he says, after the evening and discussions you both have had.

“Do you want to talk about this?” he asks, as if knowing what you are thinking but you shake your head.

“I don't want to talk anymore.” you plead up at him.

Michael grabs you around the waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, he settles himself between your legs. From the hard bulge against your thigh it was obvious he was also done with the talking portion of the evening.

You lean into his touch, pressing your legs tight around him. His hands slides up your thigh, up your waist and push the material of your shirt higher until his long fingers disappear under the material. You shiver against his gentle touch, as it skims the band of your bra.

“You are beautiful.” he breathes as he loses his patience, your shirt now somehow on the floor. You feel your nipples harden not from the cool air but from the attention they were now getting from Michaels fingers through the lacy material. 

You yearned to touch him, his jacket long gone and the cotton shirt he wore clung to him, highlighting his broad shoulders and surprisingly muscular arms. You lean out and grasp them, itching to touch him further and more but you hesitate slightly.

You two were about to cross a line that could never be uncrossed, you look up at him and pause.

“Do you want this?” you ask, your voice small, frightful that he might come to his senses and leave you.

His response was a growl at the back of his throat and a kiss so harsh against your lips you feel the wind being knocked out of you.

“I want this.” he says between breaths as he clings to you. His hands now grasping your ass and lifting you from the counter. You wrap your legs around him, your lips on his neck. The scent of him was intoxicating, sandalwood and sweat. Which you should not find attractive but as he lowers himself onto the couch, you now astride his lap, you feel it. Against his still clothed arousal you are wet for him.

You need him in a way, you don’t think you have ever wanted someone before.

Your hands travel down from his soft shirt, trailing his soft stomach until you get to his jeans, you can see the outline of his want pressed against the material and with slightly shaking hands you pop his jeans button and unzip him.

He doesn’t say anything, but he nips at your lower lip as you slide your hand in and grasp him. 

The jeans had hidden what you had found, he was bigger, thicker and wider. 

Holy fuck! You say to yourself, as you rub your thumb across the tip, smearing pre-cum. You bring your hand up and with eye contact as you bring your fingers to your lips. 

Michael watches as you suck his cum off your thumb, and suddenly you’re on your back on the couch and he's above you. Hunger sparks behind his eyes as he moves his hand down your stomach, his every touch lightening a fire between your thighs. You ache for him, burn for him. You rutt your hips up trying to find some friction to stop the ache. 

“Please-” you beg, as his hand dips under your sweatpants, his fingers pushing your underwear to the side, and resting just above where you need him to touch.

“I like you begging, beg for me again.” he whispered, as he moved his hand back and forth just away from where you needed him to touch you.

“Please- please Michael! Fuck!” you were not a beggar in bed, but as he pulled your pants away, and ripped your panties, you realised you could happily beg for this every day.

He stepped away from you for a moment and you whine, verbally whine as you are left untouched and alone on the couch. 

But he returns quickly, his jeans and shirt gone, he stands proudly naked before you with a little gold package in one hand that he gently places on the table before returning to you. 

“Spread your legs for me.” He orders and you obey.

The moment his tongue touches your pussy you're gone, lost in the waves of pleasure as he adds a long finger inside you, teasing and making you crave more. 

You wanted to feel all of him, you pleaded out loud for more. Your voice is almost hoarse as you scream through an orgasm. His tongue never leaves your clit.

Michael only smirks against your pussy as he adds another finger, pulling a second orgasm from you in only seconds. 

He gives you just a moment to collect yourself, you pant as your body shakes through the aftermath of two earth shattering orgasms. You close your eyes to stop the room from spinning and feel the couch dip as he gets up.

“Please don’t go.” you whine, almost crying at how pitiful you sound. But he just laughs as you open your eyes.

He’s not gone far, just far enough for you to not feel his warmth but far enough to get the little gold packet from the coffee table. 

He unsheathes the condom and rolls it down his cock, never breaking eye contact with you.

You sit up slowly, leaning on your elbows as he returns to the couch. 

“I need you.” He admits and sits on the other end of the couch, you crawl forward to him, and settle your knees on either side of him, hovering just above his weeping cock for the moment.

“I’m still going to dance.” you tell him, and he raises a brow in question, “I’m still going to work where I work and you can’t complain.”

He growls again, which makes you smile, sweet Dr Michael Robinavitch is jealous.

“I don’t like it.” he admits, kissing your collarbone.

“I know- but it’s who I am.”

“Ok.”

You smile broadly and slide slightly down, his warm cock now resting just below your tight entrance.

“Okay?”

“Yes, god damnit” he hisses as you settle down onto his lap, slowly, as you take a moment to adjust to each inch. The fullness slams into you, you cry out, biting your lip and cry as he bottoms out.

God he felt good.

He felt like home, you admit, loudly you realise as he pulls you for a kiss. Neither of you move, too scared to break the moment but you can’t hold it. His length is so full against you, you need to move or you might cry.

The tension in Michael's jaw told you he too needed you to move. His thumb circled your clit, the muscle tender from your last two orgasms that it sends shock waves through your body. 

Your head falls back, as you slowly roll your hips, Michael groaning in response to each hip roll.

He let you stay there for a moment, letting you take control but you felt the moment he lost all patience with each agonisingly slow roll of your hips.

His fingers dug into your hips and he holds you in place before fucking you from below. Each punishingly hard thrust set your body aflame with need, you scream through an orgasm, his mouth on your again swallowing the sound as one hand crept up from you waist and found your breasts, your bra surprisingly still in place he pulls a breast from its cup and bites down hard on the flesh. 

Your body spirals through your fourth orgasm as he continues to pound into you, this time Michael follows you over the edge, he mutters a mix of obscenities and words of admiration as he continues to ride you both through your climaxes. You fall forward against his neck, enveloping yourself in the scent of sandalwood and sweat. 

You don’t want to move, even if you could feel your legs, as you stayed in his lap.

“Sweetheart, we should go to bed.” he says, cradling you against him.

You shake your head and stay where you are, feeling him still inside you as you close your eyes, the exhaustion of your evening and activities sending you into a peaceful sleep.