#your hard working is different than everyone elses

[comicaurora]

Hi! I remember you saying at some point (I think, on the podcast?) that just realizing you have ADHD helped you to deal with it because you found some practices and techniques to help it, even without medication - or something along these lines, do I remember correctly?

Can you tell, which techniques? I seem to be somewhat resistant to medication (tried all options we get in the country I'm in, and improvement is very minimal), so I'm interested what else can be done there just to make it manageable

Caveat that every ADHD person is different so what works for me might not work for you, but this is what I've found helpful:

Break up Executive Dysfunction and fight Time Blindness by SETTING TIMERS. I have a fitbit, and on days I can feel my brain being restless and uncooperative, I set a ten minute timer on it. When it runs out, I set another one, and so on. It buzzes on my wrist, so it's hard to ignore, but it's not gamebreakingly distracting so it doesn't ruin my mood if I'm on a work roll. A brief, tangible reminder that time is passing can help me snap out of a break period or, if I'm working, give me a feel for my rate of progress. I can also use that reminder to take stock of if I need to eat food, get up and stretch, or lie on the floor for a bit to reset.

Take SMALL, LATERAL BITES OF PROGRESS. If you're having a hard time working on something, feel out what else you might be able to make headway on. Maybe you've got some writing notes you could jot down to build on later. Maybe there's a tiny item on the day's to-do list you could cross off quickly. Maybe there's a text or an email you've been meaning to fire off, or you've got a mild itch to doodle something in a sketchbook. Any progress is better than no progress, and even if you're just on your phone on the couch, you can get a lot of good work done just jotting down thoughts in the notes app. The lateral element is also very important; if you're fixating too hard on the ONE thing you're SUPPOSED to do, you can trap yourself in a spiral of how it's what you're SUPPOSED to be working on but it feels IMPOSSIBLE. Literally let yourself do anything else. Don't trap yourself with "it's either doing your responsibility or it's NOTHING." Your work is not a plate of broccoli you're not allowed to leave the table without eating. Give yourself permission to un-imprison yourself.

Related, If there are external factors on the responsibility - like an outside deadline or a team of people you're working with waiting on your stuff - don't be afraid to let them know where you're at, or if you're uncertain you can make the deadline as stated, even if you think your "brain is not working" reason isn't good enough to justify the delay. Most people are extremely chill about it, and some of them will even offer to help or make it easier for you in some way. "Struggling with deadline" is not an ADHD-only experience. It is one of the most relatable human experiences, and basically everyone will be inclined to help you out.

ANY PROGRESS IS BETTER THAN NO PROGRESS. LARGE projects can feel extremely overwhelming because you know you can throw everything you've got at them for a day or even a week and it still won't be finished, and if you've got that shadow looming over you, you might sink into a malaise of "I can't finish it and that means I can't even bring myself to start it." The best way to fight that is to make ANY progress in ANY direction. Every large project can be broken down into bite-sized chunks. Anything feels overwhelming if you see it as an unassailable monolith. Work you do now is work you don't have to do later.

CHECKLISTS. It's hard to hold a large list of things that need your attention all in your head at once. It is unbelievable how helpful it is to just write them down somewhere obvious, and when you're done with something, CHECK IT OFF. Don't erase it, leave it visible that you FINISHED it.

Tell your anxiety to CALL YOU BACK. This one's weird, but when I'm stuck stressing over something, I've found it legitimately works to pull up my schedule and pencil in "worry about <thing>" for a specific date and time. My brain registers that SOMETHING has been resolved and nothing has been outright dismissed or ignored, so it settles down. When the time rolls around, the source of the anxiety is still there, but the feeling of anxiety itself has been drained out of it.

On a related note, this might not be an ADHD thing, but I've found it's very useful to Avoid Anxiety And Guilt Spirals by HOLDING COMPULSIONS AT ARMS' LENGTH. I picked this up from some readings on OCD, which is in the category of "I don't seem to HAVE this to a diagnosable degree, but some of the structures were at one point familiar to me." It's good to be aware that, if your brain keeps circling back to any given thought that distresses you, that is structurally an obsession, and if in reflexive response you have a desire to do a specific thing to mitigate that feeling, that is structurally a compulsion. This includes things like "I bet my friends think I'm annoying - I should message them something fun and casual to see if they still like me." Or "I'm worried about the state of the world - I should check the news so no new horribleness blindsides me." The compulsion might contain a sensible thing to do; checking in on your friends is good, keeping up with world events is smart. But done AS a compulsion, it reinforces the anxiety cycle. Even when it results in something neutral or positive, it only confirms that this innocuous thing is your only lifeline over a yawning abyss of terror and stress, because if this time it was fine, it must be because THIS time your vigilance Saved You. So you'd better do it next time, too, because there WILL be a next time, and you might not be so lucky twice, right? The way to stop this cycle is to weaken it over time by, when the obsession pops up (a random reminder of a stressor, an old fear) and the compulsion is prompted, do not do it, no matter how reasonable it seems. Hold the compulsion at arms' length, becoming aware of what the obsession wants you to do and why. Similarly, sit with the awareness of the obsession. You are having an unpleasant thought, but having a thought does not make it inherently meaningful in any way. It doesn't mean you're actually in any danger, any more than you were before you had the thought. It's discomfiting because it removes the salve of the compulsion from the sting of the obsession, but in the medium to long term, it withers the cycle at the root and makes the entire process loosen its grip. Then you can do things like talk to your friends and check the news without it being underlaid with the sting of panic and desperation; they are, after all, neutral activities with typically beneficial consequences, not lifelines over the abyss. It might startle you when, months later, an intrusive thought pops up that used to send you spiralling into misery for hours or days, but now it feels irrelevant - even absurd - and easy to disregard. It really does work, and it's surprising how many things you can untangle this way.

Avoid boredom time prison by HARNESSING HYPERFIXATIONS. My most controversial take, but I think if your brain is desperately hungry to do This One Cool Thing Today, it's a good idea to let it. Even if that means you spend the whole day drawing fanart or bingewatching a show or baking croissants instead of Getting Work Done, the benefits you reap from just letting your brain tap into the rare Infinite Dopamine Opportunity usually outweigh any and all work slowdowns that result from taking the impromptu day off. When your brain works in the ADHD way, your enthusiasm is a vital fuel to keep it running. You need to have energy and joy in your life, energy and joy to spare and spend on things that may not be inherently energizing. If you have the option to spend a day doing something ridiculously fun, fill up that tank and reap the productivity benefits for the next week straight.

[yan-randomfandom]

Yandere!Ratchet x GN!Reader

summary: small drabble of Ratchet freaking out about your human lifespan :p

a/n; CHUNNKEEEYYYY!!!

— 🚑 [cw: prejudicial thoughts]

The thought of you unconditionally, overwhelmingly sparks his spark. An entirely different concept compared to how Ratchet felt about the kids.

A burst of wonderful, adoring emotions fill him to the brink—it almost hinders his ability to function. Not that he realizes that.

"An old man picked up my wallet today."

Legs idly swinging over the edge, you watch as Ratchet taps on his control panel, absentmindedly nodding his head to your words. "Uh-huh."

Despite his lack of interest, you continue, wanting to vent about your day. You're used to this behavior anyway; you know he always listens. "I thought he stole it at first. I mean, I turn around and some guy is holding my wallet. Haha, but we made up quickly. It was just a misunderstanding. He was so sweet."

Ratchet shuffles over to you. He begins to do some tech things that you fear you will never understand. You reach a foot to lightly tap his armplate. He offers no reaction.

You smile. "Wanna know my first thought when we talked?"

"...What would that be?" he murmurs, his words smudged over the whisper.

"I found his voice sounding like you." With your rather cheery words, Ratchet pauses, his gaze lingering over you much more than usual. "Caught me off guard and all. Then, I imagined, what if that old man was you as a human? But nah. Sure, he sounds like you, but his fashion wasn't you. In my most humble opinion, of course."

You're yapping now—you know that. Ratchet even stopped trying to understand you a few kliks ago, returning to his own devices. Not that you mind.

"Ratchet, you're old," you say bluntly, earning a whip of a bewildered expression from him.

He grunts. "I may be rusty but—"

"No, sweetie, I meant—you're a million years old," you grimace, letting your head fall. "I can't even imagine living that long." Especially if a long period of that time was nothing but war.

A few moments of hanging silence. Ratchet lets his optics shift from you back to his work, sighing as the weight of choosing you this time settles on him.

"What is this about?" he softly asks, approaching your side, careful with the volume of his footsteps.

Suddenly, you chuckle, startling him. The mech scrunched his faceplate in confusion. "Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about the kids. To them, I'm so much older—but compared to you Autobots, I'm basically nothing."

"Nothing?" Ratchet repeats with a furrow.

"I don't mean it in a bad way. Just realizing that one day, I'll grow old, like you—but much, much quicker," you say with a weak smile. "We humans only live for about a hundred years, and that's if you're lucky."

Your word and your tone strangely crawl into Ratchet's spark with incomprehensible devastation. Earth years are in a different timezone from Cybertronian standards; that in itself is a tragically distant line.

"Your species is fragile," the medic mutters, his optics glancing slowly over your figure. "Small. Organic. Squishy. One step and you're dead."

Helplessly, you snicker, unable to feel not offended. "And your species... Big. Metal. Tough. You guys probably live long enough to watch a sun die."

"I have, in fact," he murmurs, almost nonchalantly, "twice."

You blink. "Wow, Ratch, I have deep respect for you. Mm. Everyone does. It must have been hard."

He's just staring at you. Tilting your head, you make a look. He returns it with a look of his own. "See, I may not show it, but for your lifespan... I believe my respect runs far deeper than yours."

"Yeah?" you gasp. "Ratchet, you're actually—"

Ratchet stops listening to you after that. It's the usual—albeit annoying—teasing about him being indifferent to humans in general. Halfheartedly, he is listening, with you being the only noise in the headquarters, but his mind wanders somewhere else.

He has witnessed many sparks fall.

Even then, for a long, long time, they stay as his company. Valued memories that are never lost to his repository. Honorable contributions that are still relevant to this day. A mark that has never left both the Autobots and the Decepticons.

But you?

You're a human.

It could so happen that after one recharge, you'd be gone.

As if nothing ever happened. Just like the rest of the others who died.

Blue eyelights start to tremble the longer they stare at you. So full of life. A voice so new and refreshing. Ratchet hates to admit it—he's grown deeply fond of you and the kids.

"Now I guess I have to make you free of humans," you snicker, standing up and brushing off your clothes. "It's getting late anyway. Thanks for having me."

... What? Are you leaving?

The thought weighs on Ratchet, swelling like pressure inside his chassis. Like an hourglass with sand that falls and falls. The farther you are, the less time remains.

He watches blankly as you take a step. And another. Then carefully down the stairs.

Until you're walking straight to the exit. "I think I'll tell Raf tomorrow too—"

CLANG.

A powerful thud from Ratchet's pede slams into the ground, knocking you over with the sudden tremor. You grunt as you set a hand on his ankle for support. "Woah! Ratchet! What the hell?"

As you lift your head, your eyes meet an expression you've never seen Ratchet in before—you can't describe it. Disturbed? Apprehension? Fear? Hysteria? He's not saying anything. Engines are running louder than usual. Not bothering to move the colossal mech foot in front of your body.

"Ratchet?" you frown. "Are you okay?"

"Don't leave."

The words were so quiet. Almost pleading. You wait patiently. But he doesn't say anything else.

"...Is something wrong?" you urge.

Much to your dismay, he doesn't answer immediately. His eyelights shift.

"Mh—A report came in. Decepticons... They're moving. It would be safer for you to stay a little longer."

...

"...Okay. I trust you."

Maybe you imagined it—but for a moment, it looked like he sighed with nothing less than relief.

It's dangerous, anyway. It's dangerous. It's dangerous. It's dangerous.

— "Stay."

— "I'm not going anywhere."

— False.

[dina-winchester]

That’s Not in the Script

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x you // Established relationship

Summary: When a co-star crosses the line with an unexpected kiss on set, Jensen pulls you away to remind you both what real connection feels like.

Warnings: On-set tension, unwanted physical contact (non-consensual kiss), emotional distress/jealousy, sexual tension/intimate kiss

The set was colder than you expected, but Jensen’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders helped.

You loved watching him work.

There was something magnetic about seeing Jensen slip into character—charming, charismatic, completely in control. You’d visited the set a few times before, always staying out of the way, tucked behind the monitors or perched quietly in a director’s chair with a headset. Today was supposed to be more of the same: a quick lunch date on his break, maybe sneak in a few kisses in his trailer before he had to jump back into costume.

But that plan derailed fast.

You were watching the scene unfold through a monitor off-set. A flirty exchange between Jensen’s character and his female co-star—some actress they’d just brought in for a few episodes. You didn’t know her well, only that she was new and tried a little too hard every time you crossed paths. Flashing too-white smiles. Laughing too loud. Giving Jensen touches on the arm that lasted a beat too long—like she didn’t know the difference between flirting for the scene and flirting for real.

You tried not to care.

They were mid-scene. A little banter, some scripted chemistry, and then—bam. Her hands were in his hair, she stepped in close, and kissed him.

Full-on, open-mouthed, tongue.

Your stomach flipped.

Jensen stiffened immediately. You saw it in the tension in his shoulders, the way his arm didn’t touch her waist the way the script said it should. He didn’t kiss her back—not really—but the cameras were rolling. He had to get through the take.

The director yelled cut.

You expected him to laugh it off. To shake it off and move on.

But Jensen pulled back from her slowly, jaw tight.

“That wasn’t in the script,” he said, voice clipped.

She just smiled, all charm and faux innocence. “Oh no, did we overshoot it a little? It just felt like the characters were in it, y’know?”

Jensen’s jaw twitched.

“There’s a rule,” he said, voice low—calm, but cold. “No tongue. You know that.”

She blinked. “Oh, come on. It’s not like—”

“You pulled that shit on camera,” he cut in, sharp enough to draw blood. “With my girl standing right there.”

The silence that followed was instant. Crew members froze. The lighting guy shifted uncomfortably. She opened her mouth—maybe to argue—but Jensen was already looking past her.

His eyes found you through the haze of crew and cables—and the second they did, something in him snapped.

He didn’t say a word. Just moved.

Straight toward you, cutting through the set like nothing else existed. His hand found your waist the second he reached you.

“Come with me,” he muttered.

You followed him down the hallway, around a corner, into his trailer. The door slammed shut behind you.

You barely had time to turn before he was in front of you—hands on your face, eyes scanning yours like he needed to make sure you were okay.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said, low and rough. “I didn’t know she was gonna do that.”

“I know.” You placed your hands on his chest. “I saw the whole thing. You didn’t kiss her back.”

His jaw ticked. “She knows the rules. Everyone knows the rules. No tongue, ever. That’s not acting, that’s crossing a line.”

“She crossed it.”

“Yeah. And I didn’t stop it fast enough.”

You saw it then—the guilt underneath his anger. The way his brows pulled together like he was mad at himself for not shoving her off sooner.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “It wasn’t your fault, Jensen. You were on camera. You handled it.”

His hands slipped down to your hips, gripping tighter than usual. “I didn’t like the way she touched me. Didn’t like her hands in my hair. I wanted to pull away the second it happened.”

You tilted your head, hand resting on his shoulder, thumb brushing his neck softly. “It’s okay, baby. The take would’ve been ruined. You had to handle it professionally.”

He exhaled slowly, voice lower now. “All I could think about was getting through it so I could get to you.”

Your heart twisted. “Baby…”

“I swear to God, if she ever tries that again—” He broke off, growling under his breath. “I’ve had some forward co-stars, but that? That was disrespectful.”

His hands slid lower, fingers curling behind your thighs. With one smooth motion, he lifted you—your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, like your body already knew exactly where it belonged. His grip tightened as he tugged you closer, crowding you gently against the wall. He held you there, secure against him, like letting go wasn’t even an option.

“I hate that she touched me like that with you right there. Hate that you had to see it.”

You cupped his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “I don’t really care. She doesn’t get you. I do.”

He kissed you then—slow and deep, nothing like what you’d just seen. His mouth moved with reverence, like he was trying to erase the memory, rewrite it with something real. His tongue teased gently into your mouth, barely there. His hand fisted in your hair as he tilted your head, deepening the kiss further, tongue sliding slow and sure against yours, pulling a soft, broken sound from the back of your throat.

He groaned low at the way you melted into him, pressing you harder against the wall, his mouth devouring yours with something hotter than anger, deeper than jealousy. His tongue moved with purpose—exploring, teasing, tasting you like he never wanted to stop.

When he finally broke the kiss, he stayed close, his breath ragged against your lips.

“You feel that?” he murmured against your lips. “That’s what it’s supposed to be.”

“Yeah, I feel it.” You murmured quietly, fingers slowly carding through the hair on the nape of his neck.

His thumb swept softly over your cheek, eyes locked with yours. “She doesn’t get that. Not a second of it,” he said. “Only ever want it to be like that—with you.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered. “Only yours.”

And just like that, the tension eased. You weren’t thinking about the scene anymore.

Just him. Just this.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

I’m a lesbian, but I honestly don’t feel like I like other lesbians. Does that make me a bad person? I feel really guilty about it.

I don’t think it makes you a bad person. But depending on what exactly you mean by that, it is something to reflect on - which you’re already doing, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent this message! 

Are you thinking about specific individuals here (like certain celebrities or people in your real life)? Maybe there’s a lesbian singer everyone else seems to adore but you just can’t stand her, or maybe your coworker is a lesbian and it’d be so cool to have a lesbian friend at work but you just don’t get along. In that case: I think you may be worrying about something here that is actually perfectly normal. 

It can be really frustrating, understandably so! Many queer people feel lonely and there’s this somewhat romanticized picture of „found family“: you may feel othered by and disconnected from straight people but you’ll be best friends with all other queer people! - but that’s a bit oversimplified. Queer people are still people, and sometimes two people just don’t get along. Sometimes all two lesbians have in common is that they’re lesbians… and that’s not always enough to become best friends. 

To stick with the example from above: your coworker may even be a super nice person! Your personalities just do not match well. Or you don’t really have anything to talk about that would interest both of you. Or maybe they’re on a completely different life path than you and you have no shared experiences to bond over despite a shared sexual orientation. And so on! 

And same with celebrities: they may be lesbian - but maybe you just don’t like the music they make or the movies they’re in. Or maybe their personality (or the image of it that they’re selling) just doesn’t make you want to be a fan. And so on! 

Sometimes we just don’t like people. That’s just human. Obviously it wouldn’t justify being homophobic to them or denying that they are just as lesbian as you are or anything like that, but I doubt that this is what you’re doing. You just don’t love them, and that’s fine. 

But if you are not thinking about specific people and you feel like you generally don’t like lesbians, as a whole group, that deserves a bit more attention and critical self-reflection. 

Because, as we just talked about, „lesbians“ isn’t really one uniform group. It’s not a personality type. So, what exactly do you not like about all of them? 

Feelings like that are often based on (subconscious) stereotypes and internalized  homophobia. You’re not a bad person for having them, as many of us grew up with those messages, but it is your responsibility to confront them. 

It might be something like „lesbians tend to be meaner than straight girls“ or „lesbians are always the loud and aggressive type“, which isn’t true, of course, and is actually rooted in misogyny (in the idea that women are supposed to serve men and as lesbians are not available for men, this makes them mean).  It could even be a stereotypical belief on what lesbians like or do, such as „lesbians are into cars, sports and woodworking“ which can be intimidating if your interests are more „stereotypically feminine“. 

In reality, of course there are all kinds of lesbians with all kinds of personalities, interests, hobbies and traits. Your logical brain probably knows that already - but internalized beliefs are usually much more emotional than logical. So even if your first thought is „I don’t have any beliefs like that“, it’s a good idea to really listen to what exactly lies behind that „I don’t like other lesbians“ feeling. It may very well be something you consciously don’t even agree with. 

Once you identified that thought, you can’t just snap and make it go away. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Brains and their long-held beliefs are too stubborn for that. Just gently remind yourself again and again that this thought doesn’t align with reality and your real values, and it’ll soften over time! 

P.S: as I’m typing all this out, I keep thinking I may be horribly misreading your message and missing your point, so just in case: 

If you mean „like“ as in „attracted to“ and you’re talking about feeling attracted to girls who are not lesbians - that’s nothing to feel bad or guilty about. Most people do not choose who to crush on. Crushes on unavailable people (such as a lesbian crushing on straight girls) happen all the time! It can be a heartbreaking experience to go through - because obviously it’ll be a crush that leads nowhere - but it isn’t morally wrong in any way. 

[hamzahsbiggestfan]

ARE YOU SCARED ?

pairing succubus!reader and best friend!hamzah

⤷ summary : summary : in a small, rotting town where nothing ever changes, except the bodies piling up. you, a cursed succubus bound by a pact you don’t remember making, hunger for more than just flesh and blood. after a tragic fire at a local show unleashes something ancient inside you, your thirst becomes insatiable. you kill, you feed, and you try not to feel anything. but hamzah does. your best friend since childhood, smart, quiet, always there hamzah has watched you slip through the cracks of who you used to be. he knows you’re not the same. he sees the blood. smells it. but he can’t turn away.

⤷ warnings : this series contains of blood, killing, cannibalism, drugs, smut, and angst, if any of those topics make you uncomfortable, i’m not forcing you to read.

PART ONE - the introduction

a/n : you guys aren’t ready for this actually. i am so locked in on writing right now you don’t even know. anywayss i hope you guys enjoyed the first part but you know i had to edge you a little bit

the sky over the quiet town never changed. It hung low and colorless, like something waiting to fall. the streets were always wet, even when it hadn’t rained. the air smelled like rust and woodsmoke and something sour no one really talked about. in this town, people disappeared slowly, not all at once, just piece by piece, until one day, they stopped showing up. and no one really noticed. not until the bodies started piling up.

but that wasn’t now. not yet.

now, it was just you and hamzah.

your best friend since second grade, when he punched a kid in the shoulder for calling you weird. he didn’t talk much then. still doesn’t, unless it’s just the two of you. with everyone else, he’s quiet in a way that feels deliberate. like he’s hiding something. but with you, he’s soft. stupidly loyal. kind in the way no one is anymore.

you used to be that, too.

somewhere along the way, something inside you shifted. It’s in your posture, tight, sharp, like you’re always holding something in. your eyes darker than they used to be, rimmed with sleepless nights and half remembered dreams. the town says it started after the fire at the venue, when the stage went up in flames and took a handful of kids with it. you made it out. barely.

but hamzah had already started looking at you differently before that. like he saw the shadow forming behind your smile.

still, he stayed. walked you home when it got dark. brought you hot chocolate in paper cups. asked if you were okay even when he knew you’d lie. he never pushed just waited. like he could love the monster out of you if he tried hard enough.

and maybe, for a while, that almost worked.

but something’s coming. you feel it in your body. in the way hunger creeps back in. in the way people smell when they’re scared.

but for now, it’s still just you and hamzah. two strange shapes that somehow still fit.

and he still hasn’t run.

taglist : @screamertannie @blair3claire @giuliannna @prttyinpink7 @xoxoange1l @hamzahswhispers @weirdogirl888 @isathefantastic @lil-elliesgf @pictureperfectblue @odessa444 @chickie-nuggets-h0 @h-yalexaaaa @viviansturns @xoxoomel @babyd0ll3 @grrrfrogs

[daydreamsandafternoonteafics]

Crossroads- Chapter 15

banner by shesaidpoptarts

MASTERLIST

Harry's POV

This house was too big and too damn quiet. 

Silence never bothered me before. I always hated the labor of small talk, and the absence of sound gave my brain a break from the endless spreadsheet of figures that often consumed my thoughts. It was comfortable.  

But this- this was different. This was emptiness, a void. 

I could always count on River’s presence to fill those little gaps of stillness. The buzz of a hand mixer or the sizzle of a frying pan drifting from the kitchen, the padding of her feet against the floorboards, and gentle snores that passed her lips when I finally settled in bed long after she'd fallen asleep. 

She was always there until she wasn't.  

I'd had 48 hours to accept the fact that River had left me, but I was still paralyzed with denial.

I woke to a cold bed, knowing she'd slept warm and peaceful somewhere else, stumbled about the day with a pathetic token of hope that I'd return home and find her in the kitchen, hunched over the stove and balancing a cookbook on her beautiful bump but as the front door slammed soundly behind me, all that was there waiting for me was painful silence. 

I wasn't even sure if I felt angry or sad- I was more stunned than anything. I just couldn't believe she'd actually left. No matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t deny that me and Riv's marriage had been on the rocks for a while now. Pointless arguments, ice-cold silent standoffs that lasted for days, and going to bed annoyed with each other had become our new normal. 

We'd been going in circles for so long, never finding a real solution to our problems. It was only a matter of time before we reached our breaking point. 

River was always at my neck about working too much and not spending enough time with her. She'd been so proud of me when I first got put on at the firm, bragging to everyone she knew, but when the late nights and business trips started to pick up, her attitude changed, and so did mine. 

Sure, I was guilty of obsessing over my work, but that didn't mean I loved River any less. She didn't understand how hard I was working to move up the career ladder. I busted my ass every day, spending hours and hours on research and data, meticulously drafting proposals, and keeping up with clients- all with little to no recognition.

I was going nowhere fast, climbing the corporate ladder with a box of rocks tied to my back, each step more painful and laborious than the last. It wasn't fair to have all these bloody responsibilities in the office and then come home to a nagging wife demanding all my attention.

Maybe I could be snappy and irritable, and I wasn't always the most fun to be around, but River would never understand the amount of stress I was under. Our professions were worlds apart. Making a batch of cupcakes every now and then doesn't require nearly as much dedication and hard work as my proposals. 

Riv had it so easy. Being able to stay home and cook all day was a privilege not many women could afford in this economy. She should be thanking me for being a provider, but I guess that just wasn't good enough for her.

I tossed my briefcase on the hall tree, sighing heavily as I loosened my necktie. The exhaustion of the day seemed to hit me like a tidal wave, that familiar sharp, throbbing pain gathering between my brows. My stomach rumbles, a reminder of how little I’d put on my stomach today.

It wasn’t exactly easy to eat when you’re swamped with business models and grappling with the fact that your wife has left you. 

River always kept the kitchen impeccably clean, one of the golden rules she’d learned in culinary school. Her favorite copper pots hung over the stove, polished to perfection, and glass jars of sugar, flour, and grain were neatly organized near the cupboards, not a crumb or smudge clung to the marble countertops. I was the messy one. When we first moved in together, she'd nearly bite my head off for leaving dishes in the sink. 

God, I'd give anything to go back to a time when the biggest argument between us was over some bloody dirty dishes. 

I pull open the heavy fridge, scanning the contents for something quick I can grab. Everything is organized and dated- cartons of raspberries and blueberries that had gone mushy, a jar of homemade pesto, air-tight containers of shredded roast chicken- they were all little reminders of River. 

I didn't know when she was coming back or if she was coming back. Time would pass, the food would expire and I'd still be without her. 

My eye catches a glimpse of the thirteen-week ultrasound I'd proudly secured to the fridge and I quickly lose the little appetite I had. Seeing the image of our little lad makes it very clear what we'd been fighting about lately. 

When Riv first told me she was pregnant, I absolutely flipped. I should have reacted better but I felt blindsided.

Early on, we’d toyed with the idea of having kids one day, but not any time soon, and certainly not now. I'd grown to love the little gumdrop I'd planted in her womb. I was so chuffed about having a son. The only thing that gave me joy lately was watching River’s belly swell with each passing week- but I just wish we'd waited.

I was hoping to get VP before I'd have to slow down. I could become one of the youngest at the firm but now all my chances were shot. I purposely hadn't mentioned anything about having a baby at the office because no one would take me seriously or consider me for upcoming projects if they knew. Kids required so much- they got sick easily, needed childcare when school was out, and had extracurricular activities in the afternoon- my career would never be the same. 

What the fuck was I thinking bringing River to the gala? No one would have known she was pregnant if we'd just stayed home, and maybe she'd still be here with me. 

The throbbing pain in my head intensifies, and the only thing left to do is go to bed. Maybe this is just one big nightmare. Maybe if I go to sleep, I'll wake up and everything will be back to normal. I trudge up the stairs, passing the room that would soon belong to our baby boy. If River were here, we’d be picking out furniture for the nursery. Now I wasn’t even sure if we’d still be together by the time our baby arrived or if my son would even live in the same household with me. 

Lying to her was necessary but maybe if I’d just told the truth or took the time off, I wouldn't feel so awful. 

I hadn’t made the bed since River left. She’d created an adorable little pillow fort near the wall. It was becoming more difficult for her to sleep comfortably during the night thanks to the backaches as the baby grew. A tiny voice of optimism told me to keep everything the way it was so she could easily curl back up in bed when she was ready to come home. It was the most pathetic wishful thinking. 

With a heavy sigh, I sink down on the mattress and take off my shoes before rummaging through the nightstand drawer for an Advil. It was the only temporary relief I could get when these massive headaches struck and I always kept a bottle in my desk drawer at the office. Riv used to bring me ginger tea for a more natural approach, worried I’d damage my liver with too many pills, but she stopped once I started shooing her away for interfering with my work. 

Maybe I was the world’s biggest tosser. 

I pop two into my mouth, swallowing them without water as I pull my mobile from my pocket. The message I’d sent River hours ago was still on read. I knew she said she needed time away but I figured reaching out would show her I cared- that I missed her. I thought it’d help her change her mind and maybe she’d give me a second chance but it was a bit premature for that. 

I think I’m gonna go mad if I continue to sulk in silence like this. I’m sure River was at her mum’s ranting to her about me as we speak, but I really had no family close by to vent my own concerns to. I scroll through my contacts, my thumb hovering over Mum's number. I loved my mum- she could be a real pain in the ass sometimes but talking to her would be better than nothing. 

The phone rang twice and I thought about hanging up but it was too late once the dial tone was interrupted.  

“Harry, darling, it's late,” Mum yawned into the receiver. 

I glance at the time on my screen. It was only 6:30 here but it had to be nearly midnight in Manchester. I'd been living in the States for so long, that I often forgot about the time zone difference between here and England.

“M'sorry to wake you, Mummy. I forget how late it is over there,” I sigh whilst swinging my legs into bed. 

The rustling of sheets crinkles over the receiver. She must have been in bed. 

“So why did you call? It's been some months since I've heard from you and River about the baby,” 

I try not to roll my eyes. Mum was always trying to guilt trip me about not calling or visiting enough. 

She never liked the idea of me going all the way to the States for university and she hated it even more when I fell in love with River and decided to stay permanently. Mum could be really smothering at times- she babied me. Keeping some geographical distance between us was the only way I felt I could breathe and be a man. 

“I just thought I'd call, as all,” I lied. “The baby is doing well. You're goin’ to have a grandson,” 

“A grandson?!” She squeals. “Oh Harry, that's so exciting! Your dad's going to be proper chuffed when I tell him,” 

I crack a small smile. 

“I'm very excited, Mum,” 

“You don't sound very excited, love,” 

The line goes silent between us. I hadn't meant to break so soon. 

“River is gone, Mum,” I sigh, running a hand over my face. 

I brace myself for Mum's reaction. She never really approved of River in the first place and she hadn't been too thrilled when we announced she was pregnant. This might be Mum's opportunity to say she warned me.

“Gone?” She questioned. “As in-” 

“As in she left me, Mum,”

I hear Mum yawn as if she's lost interest.  

“What happened? What did you do?” 

I'm surprised she hadn't assumed River was at fault. 

“It's a very long story,” I sigh. “She thinks I care more about my job than her and our boy. It's been going on for a while now. I wasn't there for her twenty-week appointment- I had to go out of town for business- and she was pissed off. I sorta lied about taking time off from work to make her feel better. She found out when we were at a merger gala and well, I think you can figure out the rest,”

The line goes silent for a while and I almost wonder if she'd fallen asleep.  

“So she left,” she starts slowly. “You two are calling it quits?” 

“I don't- I don't know, Mum. I don't want to. I want us to stay together.  I want us to be a family, I just didn't want to have a baby right now. God, I love her but I think she did it on purpose. I think she got pregnant on purpose,” 

My accusation probably gave Mum more ammunition to use against Riv in the future but it's how I feel. 

We weren't getting any younger. Maybe biological panic sunk in and she figured this was her last chance to have a baby, maybe she was bored or maybe she thought she could get me to stop working so much if she got pregnant. I knew she was taking birth control but what if she just decided to stop without telling me?

I'd never known River to be deceptive but I couldn't be sure. 

“ Hmm, I've had my suspicions. But I think this would have happened sooner if that truly were the case. I'm sure you played your role too,” 

I sigh, grabbing a fistful of my hair. 

“I don't know what to do, Mum,” I murmur.  “What if she doesn't come back? What if she takes our son away from me?” 

It was one of my biggest fears in this massive mess. Sure, I loved River and I wanted her to come home but I feared I'd fucked up beyond repair this time. I was so scared she'd cut me out of our son's life before he could even take his first steps. A scorned woman could deeply damage a man's life. 

Mum chuckles and I fail to see how my anguish is comical in any way. 

“You have nothing to worry about, my darling boy,” she assured. “You and I both know River can't afford a divorce on her cook salary. It'd take every penny she has saved up. But just in case, get yourself a good lawyer. God, I wish you'd listened to your dad and me and gotten a prenup,” 

“Muuum, I don't care about any of that. I just want River to come home,” 

I didn't see divorce as an option. I could be an asshole sometimes and River’s constant whining about my job got on my nerves but I didn't think things were that bad between us. In fourteen years,  this had been our first real breakup. That's gotta count for something. 

She huffs. 

“I'm just putting out feelers for the future. Next time, maybe you shouldn't lie. Your father did the same thing- working all the time, making promises he couldn't keep. River’s got a right to be miffed. I know I was,”

Mum was so confusing. One moment she's planning out our divorce, the next she's defending River.

She could never really decide if she liked or hated her. 

“I guess you're right, Mum,” I sigh again. “I'm sure you're knackered. I'll let you get back to bed,” 

“Okay, do call if you need anything, love,” She yawns. “ Your father and I will have to come and visit when the baby gets here. Hopefully, things will be solved between you and River by then - however it turns out,” 

I rest my head against a pillow, finally feeling some relief from my headache. 

“Goodbye, Mum,” 

I toss my mobile into the sea of disheveled sheets with a heavy groan. I don't know why I even bothered to call Mum. I only feel worse. 

River never would have left if I hadn't been so stupid. I fucked up. I guess it was left to me to fix things. 

***

“Hey there, stranger,” 

The clean scent of lavender and bergamot wafts past and I didn't have to look up from my cup of cold coffee to know who'd plopped down next to me. I glanced down at my Cartiér, there were still twenty minutes left on my break. I should be eating but I didn’t have an appetite. 

Another day has passed with no contact with River. 

I don't know what I was expecting. This clearly wasn't a minor lover's quarrel that could be solved with a few apologies. It was delusional of me to think it would be that easy. River had made it very clear that she didn't want anything to do with me right now but I was still trying to process everything she said.

The idea that I'd truly morphed into this awful person she possibly didn't want to be married to anymore and didn't want our son to turn out to be like that was hurtful. 

I didn't want to be alone. 

“Hey Chas,” I mumble, pushing a fallen curl out of my eyes. 

“I've been looking for you all morning,” She flashes her perfect smile before opening an obnoxiously loud plastic container of salad. “I thought we could go back over that financial report. I wanna make sure my numbers are correct,” 

Chastity was an analyst and the only woman at the firm who wasn't a secretary. She was only a couple of years out of college, and I'd taken her under my wing. She was incredibly smart- one of the brightest people I knew and we worked well together. 

Despite the conclusions River had jumped to when she saw us talking at the gala, our relationship was completely platonic. Sure, Chastity was objectively gorgeous,  but I was not sexually attracted to her. She wasn't attracted to me either or any other man for that matter. 

I respected Chastity on a professional level. She understood the world of banking, and I could talk to her about things River just couldn't understand.  

“ M’ sure it's fine. You're a math whiz,” 

I'd purposely holed up in my office all morning. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone and had only come to the breakroom for a little fresh air. 

She narrows her eyes at me as she drizzles a generous amount of ranch dressing on a bed of dodgy-looking lettuce.  

“Are you okay, H? You seem .. off. Another headache?” 

I rub the back of my neck with a heavy sigh. 

“ M’ fine,” I retorted. 

Chasity and I didn't talk very much about personal things. She knew I was married and not much else. I didn't even have photos of River in my office. I much preferred to keep my personal life separate from my professional one. 

A soft smile settles on her pink lips as she forks through her salad. 

“I'm a friendly ear if you need one,” She pokes at a cucumber. “We can only talk about numbers for so long,” 

I stare into the styrofoam cup. 

“I really messed up with my wife, s'all. I've made a massive mess of things,” 

“Ooo,” Chasity tutted whilst tossing her long ringlets over her shoulder. “Domestic squabbles. Not really my area of expertise. As long as you didn't do anything absolutely moronic, you should be fine,” 

Everyone was saying things would be fine. I just wasn't too confident. 

“She hasn't been home in days,” I confess. “Think that makes it pretty moronic,” 

Her arched brows raise in surprise. 

“Downright asinine. You'd better grovel,” 

“I met your wife at the gala on Saturday,  Styles. She's quite the looker,” 

I tear my gaze away from Chastity to see Keaton strolling into the breakroom, a company coffee mug in hand.

If everyone at the firm had to take a poll on who the most obnoxious co-worker was, Keaton would win by a landslide. He was the kind of guy whose ego entered the room before he did- overly confident, crass, and pretentious- with a Donald Trump spray tan to match. 

Keaton didn't really bother me so much as he did others. I knew a couple dozen blokes just like him at Columbia. Eventually,  you learn to indulge them. 

“ ‘Y did, yeah?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. 

“Yeah. She's pretty knocked up too,” He continued as he poured hot coffee into his mug.“You've never struck me as a family man, Styles. I don't know whether to congratulate you or pity you,” 

Chastity swallows a fork full of salad. 

“You're going to be a dad, H?” she grins. “Congratulations! Wait a minute, you pissed off your pregnant wife so bad she left the house? That's insane,”  

I shrug.

“I already admitted that I messed up,” 

A smug smirk tugs at Keaton's lips as he raises his mug. 

“ A two-for-one daddy and divorce special. Looks like next Labor Day you'll be down at Myrtle Beach looking for a new wife with the rest of us,” He quips.

I know it's inappropriate but a chuckle manages to escape my throat, eyes crinkling from laughter. It's the first time I've laughed in days and honestly, it feels cathartic. 

Chastity's pretty face contorted into a disgusted expression as if we'd punched her in the face. 

“Ugh, you two have no tact,” 

“Oh come on, Diaz,” Keaton taunts. “You know you secretly love the idea of Styles being single. He could be just the man to make you realize what you've been missin’ while playing for the other team,” 

She pushes herself away from the breakroom table before packing up her lunch. 

“I'm going to finish my lunch somewhere more civilized,” Chastity growls. 

I watch her stomp away and I just know I've made her shit list. Damn, I've been screwing up lately. 

I didn't want to risk having bad blood with probably the only woman who could tolerate me right now so I didn't bother excusing myself to head to Chastity's office. Through the crack of her office door, I watched her squinting at her laptop, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

“Chas, it's just a joke,”  I speak softly, nudging the door open. 

She glowers at me, a flash of anger in her usually warm brown eyes. 

“Yeah, it's just a joke. A tasteless, crude one at the expense of your poor pregnant wife who's probably broken up about all this. I thought you were different but I see you're just as awful as Keaton,” 

I suddenly grow annoyed. It seemed like everyone was taking  River’s side and only considering her feelings. I wasn't perfect and neither was she. Just because I was a man didn't mean I didn't have feelings. 

I place both hands on her desk, leaning forward. 

“She left me, Chas,” I sneer. “She left me and she didn't even shed a tear. This is what she wanted. Not me,” 

It deeply hurt me to watch River walk out of our home like it was nothing like the life we'd built together was a waste. 

“And why?” Chastity challenges “If you've been just as insensitive as you were back there, I don't blame her. I'd leave you too,” 

I sigh in defeat, running a hand through my hair. 

“She's always coming at me about spending too much time working but we really had it out at the gala. I lied to her about takin’ time off for the baby when I was actually going to try and get on the IPO project. She never would have found out if Bergen hadn't mentioned it.  Oh, and she thinks we're havin’ an affair, too,” 

Saying it out loud makes it sound even more ridiculous and old-fashioned. River's best friend was a guy whom she seemed to spend more time with than me. Sometimes, it made me jealous of how close they were, still I never once accused her of sleeping with Ryan. 

Her eyebrows furrow with confusion. 

“Us, having an affair? Now that's a joke that's actually funny. What on earth did you do that would make her think that?”

“She just saw us talking,” I shrug. “We don't discuss work when I'm at home or much else really. I guess she got jealous,” 

Chastity scoffs. 

“Jealous?” She rolls her eyes. “You big doofus. You're emotionally neglecting your wife, H. It might be a wrong conclusion, but if I had a partner who never talked to me and saw them talking to another woman, I'd feel some type of way too. Maybe you’re not cheating on her in the physical sense, but emotional cheating is just as bad. Y'know, opening up to someone else emotionally while shutting her out,” 

So, I guess nobody's going to take my side. 

“She wouldn't understand any of the things we talk about, Chas. She's a chef. Me talking to her about mergers and acquisitions would be like her trying to school me on sushi knives,” 

Chastity massages her temples with a sigh. 

“So why did you marry her if your jobs make you so incompatible? What does it matter? She doesn't give a damn if she understands mergers and acquisitions, she wants to spend time with you, H. I can bet you a hundred dollars that she didn't leave you because she wanted to. She left you because she wants you to man up and get a clue. Jesus Christ, Harry, you're too smart to be this dumb. At this rate, you will divorced and miserable at Myrtle Beach next Labor Day,” 

I pinch my bottom lip, absorbing her words. They were proper harsh, but maybe they were necessary. 

“Tell me what to do to fix things, Chas,” I sigh. “I can’t stand being alone like this,”

She reaches for a pen on her desk, clicking it soundly. 

“Looks like she's been alone much longer than you have. I don't think there's a generic guidebook on how to fix a marriage, but I do know emotional unavailability kills family units. If she's done with you and things are over, at least straighten up for your kid. You don't wanna fuck them up, do you?” She questions. 

I hated even remotely entertaining the idea that River was done for good with me. We'd been together for so long, that it was weird to even think about being with someone else.

I shake my head. 

“No. No, I don't,” 

Chastity's lips curve into a small smile. 

“You'll figure it out, H. By the way, what's the missus's name?” 

“River,” I reply, a gentle grin pulling at my lips. “We've been together since Uni. I really do love her, I just ’- I guess ‘m a jackass,” 

She chuckles. 

“ See, you’re already making progress. Self-awareness is a good first step,” 

***

I couldn't think of anything but my conversation with Chastity this afternoon. It was far more productive than talking to Mum. It was admittedly easier to have my flaws pointed out by someone other than River. Speaking with a neutral party made me more receptive and less defensive. 

I'd never seen our lack of conversation as emotional neglect. Quiet dinners and evenings in front of the telly with Mum and Gem, while Dad worked in his office, were the norm in our family. I never saw my parents having long conversations or even spending time together without me and my sister. Dad was always working. 

Mum never once complained. She seemed happy as long as Dad was keeping up our posh lifestyle. I guess I expected River to be the same way. 

There were things I knew I needed to fix, but I wasn't too confident I could easily dial back on my work. I had goals, and I couldn't meet them if I completely slowed down. Settling deep into fatherhood would require me to put all my goals on hold.  I didn't understand why River just couldn't be a little more patient, or we couldn't meet a level of compromise where I could have it all. 

There were still a few months left before the arrival of our baby boy. I'd have to get my priorities sorted out before then. In the meantime, I realized I couldn't expect River to contact me. I fucked up so it was my job to try and patch things up.

I needed to figure out what I was going to do with all this new alone time I had with River gone. It's a huge adjustment to go from being coupled up for over a decade to suddenly having no one but yourself. 

I dreaded going home, not wanting to be forced to sit in silence but I did anyway. I could order take away and watch television until my brain went numb or sit in agony and analyze everything that went wrong, picking apart each shattered piece of my fragile ego. 

I wasn't in the mood for the responsible option of self-reflection so I opted for something more self-pitying and destructive. 

I drank. 

River kept a decent stock of wines in the pantry to pair with a variety of different meals and since she hadn't been drinking for many months now, I figured I could dust off a couple of bottles. 

I went straight for the pinot noir and it only took two glasses before I got that delightful buzz that made me forget about things for a moment. It was an incredibly stupid decision considering I was the sappy, sentimental, needy sort of drunk who couldn't be left alone. 

It wasn't long before I started spiraling into a deep abyss of regret and self-loathing. Maybe I was an awful husband who couldn't own up to my flaws. Maybe I didn't deserve River and maybe I'd be shit at being a father too. I had to let her know that I could change and that nothing was going on between me and Chastity before she gave up on me.

Before she gave up on us. 

I rang her mobile twice, and both calls went directly to voicemail. River was either rejecting my calls, had her phone on airplane mode, or worse - she blocked me. 

I was panicking. Suddenly, a phone call just wasn't enough. I had to see her.  I staggered off the sofa and grabbed my car keys. There was a figurative tiny angel on my right shoulder telling me that this was a pants idea and I should just sleep away my wine-drenched misery, but the little devil on my left shoulder was far more persuasive. 

One of the things that sold me on moving to North Carolina was the beach. I'd grown tired of the pollution and crowdedness of New York City after so many years, thinking I was ready for slow living, but I hardly ever was at the beach unless River and I were visiting her mum. 

On our first spring break as a couple, River insisted on flying down so I could meet her mum and see where she grew up. It was the best week, spending our days and nights by the ocean. Not that I had any prior doubts, but that spring break vacation made it crystal clear to me that River was the only woman  I wanted to be with. 

Being in love had been so easy back then. Why did things have to become so complicated? Why couldn’t every day feel like spring break?

The sun had set when I pulled up to the boardwalk. People were still enjoying the last rays of sunlight- a group of teenage kids were having a lively bonfire, an elderly couple taking a stroll along the shore. I scanned the beach, looking for River in case she decided to take a walk after dinner. When I didn’t spot her, I knew she had to be inside. 

I got a ridiculous amount of sand in my loafers getting out of the Rover, tracking the remains along the cobblestone steps that lead up to the three-story hotel. The service sign on the door read closed, but I was still able to open the creaky wooden door. The lobby was empty, with no patrons lingering and no receptionist at the desk. Hanging on the wall above a set of chairs was a picture of Kate and River, standing outside the hotel, big smiles on their face. Riv couldn’t have been older than ten, her hair plaited into two pigtails. Some people had to grow into their looks, but she had always been beautiful. 

When I realize no one’s going to come to the desk, I take the liberty to ring the service bell- several times and very loudly. It was honestly kinda fun. 

“Sir, we’re closed,” An older woman with white hair huffs in annoyance, emerging from one of the rooms behind the desk.“There are no vacancies for the night. You can come back tomorrow to see if someone’s checked out, or I can take your name and number and give you a call when there’s a room ready,” 

“Don’t want a room,” I hiccup.  “M’ here to see River,” 

The woman narrows her big brown eyes at me, smoothing a hand over the stiff collar of her crisp white blouse.

“You must be Harry,” 

A small grin pulls at my lips. 

“How’d y’know? How do you know me?” 

She rolls her eyes before reaching for the desk phone and dialing a few numbers. 

“I've heard quite a bit about you, young man,” She retorts, pressing the phone to her ear. 

A beat of silence passes before she speaks. 

“River, you have a gentleman visitor. Yes, him. I'll let him know,” 

I hold my breath as the woman slams down the receiver. 

“She said she'll be down in a few minutes.  Would you like anything while you wait? Perhaps some coffee to sober up?” 

She kinks a judgemental eyebrow, but I don't even care. I'm just glad River agreed to see me. 

“No thanks….” I squinted at the silver name tag attached to her blouse. “ Uhh, A-dell. Adele. Like the singer! I love her,” 

“I'll be in my office if you do need anything at all,”  Adele speaks before disappearing behind the desk once more. 

I pick up a brochure of Real Estate properties in Willmington, mindlessly flipping through the pages while I waited. I had so much I needed to say to River, but my mind just froze up. What could I say that would be good enough to make her come home?

The agining staircase creaked and I turned my attention to the beauty descending. Her hair was pulled back into a high bun, a tropical print silk robe draped around her shoulders, and her adorably round bump. Her eyes were puffy, as if she hadn’t slept and her pretty face held an annoyed expression.

“What do you want, Harry,?” River hissed, placing a hand on her bump. “It’s late. I thought I told you I needed space?”

My heart sank noticing she wasn’t wearing her wedding rings. I’d seen her admiring the solitaire diamond in a shop window when we were vacationing in London two years before I proposed. A day before we were set to fly back, I brought it with all confidence she’d be my fiancée one day. 

Now she wouldn’t even wear it.

“ Needed t’ see you,” I stammer, stepping closer. “‘S been nearly three days; I want you to come home,”

The closer I come, the further she backs away. 

“I told you, I’m not coming home yet, Harry. I made it very clear. I need time to think,"

I frown. 

“But ‘M lonely. This is just a silly lil’ fight, darling. Let’s just forget about it, Riv,”

Her hazel eyes narrow into tiny slits, arched eyebrows furrowing as she crosses her arms over her bump. 

“You’re drunk, Harry. This is pathetic. Go home,”

“I am drunk,” I hiccup. “Drunk in love with yoou. I never cheated on you with Chastity. We’re just friends.  And- And I won’t take that IPO project if you don’ want me to. I’ll wait till the baby gets older. I just want us to be a happy family and you’re ruining it by bein’ so bloody-minded,”

I scan River’s face for any hint of persuasion but she doesn’t seem impressed by my heartfelt confession. In fact, by the tears brimming her lashes, I can conclude I’ve upset her. 

“Please, Harry,” River sniffs. “Please leave me alone,” 

She turns her body away from me. I grab her arm. 

“Please, jus’ listen to me, River Dawn,” I beg. 

Heavy stomping on the staircase fills the lobby and we both turn to see Kate, jogging down the steps, a look of pure rage in her ice-blue eyes. 

“Get your hands off my daughter and get the hell off my property,” She barks. 

I hold my hands up in surrender. The last thing I wanted was a confrontation with my mother-in-law.

“I jus’ wanna talk,” I speak softly. 

Kate steps closer and now it’s my turn to back away. 

“You’ll talk to my daughter when you can treat her with some respect. I trusted you with River. I treated you like a son but I see right through that good guy facade. I know everything! You’ve been a shitty husband, treating my daughter like a second-class citizen, making her feel like she’s not important. She’s shed so many wasted tears over you. I found her stumbling around the beach like a zombie because of your lies! You’ve robbed her of the joys of her first pregnancy, stressing her out with your bullshit, breaking her spirit. The best thing she can do for herself is get rid of you for good,” 

As long as I’d known her, Kate was very laid back and calm. She was the polar opposite of my uptight neurotic Mum, and it was refreshing. I’d never seen her like this before. She was in full Mama Bear mode, inches away from face; She looked so much like River. If River had been possessed by satan. 

I quickly grew angry. It wasn’t fair that everyone got to dump on me. There were two sides to every story and River wasn’t completely innocent. 

“ S’ not my fault she’s so needy,” I scoff. “Maybe if you would have given your daughter the attention she needed as a girl she wouldn’t be on my dick all the time and I’d be able to work in peace!”

I meet her cold gaze, matching the intensity. Kate was a small woman but I was honestly a bit fearful she’d kick my ass right then and there. 

“Don’t talk to my mother like that, Harry,” River warns. 

A frightening grin settles on Kate's face. 

“It’s alright, sweetie,” She speaks calmly, briefly turning to River before turning back to me. “If that’s the way you really feel, I’ll make sure my daughter has the best lawyer money can buy so she’ll never have to be on your dick again,”

Fuckin’ hell, I think I’ve done it this time. 

Tears have streamed down River’s face, and she won’t even look at me. My whole body is frozen with panic. I think my biggest fear was about to come true. I might never see my son, and things between us might be completely over.

She gently squeezes her mum’s arm, pulling her away from me.

“I told you to go, Harry. Just go,” 

I don’t even bother to give her a lingering look before stumbling out of the building, my eyes prickly and wet with tears. The sun has fully set now, the glow of the silver moon illuminating the waves below. The elderly couple from earlier are still walking arm and arm and suddenly it hit me that that’ll never be me and River. 

I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know why I keep pushing away the woman I love. 

Taglist: @sassamanda77, @fangirl509east, @behindmygreyeyes

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Do you have any advice on navigating politics and friendship?

Since 2020 I’ve become right wing because of covid, but grew up default left bc of the city I’m from. I lost a lot of friends from that even though I only spoke my beliefs a couple times.

The main issue is that my culture and political values don’t align. I’ve made some right wing friends and I love how actually accepting they are but either we don’t have that much in common and I feel like a weirdo for being into fandom or they are legitimately racist/sexist(as much of the left is too). 

Lately, I’ve been leaning into my actual interests more with music/theater and its been great! I’d much rather focus on things I love instead of politics now that’s it’s been a few years since covid. But its hard to overlook the comments where I overhear how much my peers hate people like me. 

I hope I can find some truly like minded people someday but right now it’s hard to think I could(outside my family). And I’ve never been able to tell this to a therapist because they’re too left to understand that I have legit reasons for fearing people hate me. 

I think it’s best to live your truth but I fear I wouldn’t have any friends otherwise and I really value being in a creative community. And everyone says it’s harder to make friends after college which I’m not looking forward to. 

First of all, if you're seeing a therapist and you don't think he or she is able to put their personal biases aside to help you, find a different therapist. Therapists are there to help you. If they can't do that, then therapy won't work for you. Trust me on this. I once had a therapist when I was 16 who was a pretty big Jesus freak, his office was decorated with Bible sayings and "Jesus Saves" pillows and stuff. He was very nice, right up until we started talking about religion one day and I said "I don't believe in that stuff" and he snapped back "Well I do." After that therapy stopped helping me because I stopped being able to see him as someone trustworthy and started seeing him as someone who was judging me. It was just that one incident, but ne next therapist said I was right to switch after that because therapy can't work if you don't trust your therapist.

Second, don't rely too heavily on stereotypes and assume that people on the right don't share your interests or that everyone who does is automatically on the left. I've been in many fandom spaces and some are chill about politics, and some have right wing people in them, open or not. The best thing you can do is just be in these spaces and find the people you think will be cool with you, if they don't share your beliefs. There's no magic formula for this, unfortunately, you're just going to need to put yourself out there and risk rejection or outright hostility, or you're going to have to resign yourself to keeping quiet while everyone else gets to share their opinions freely. Neither option is inherently wrong, btw. It's all about what you want to get out of these spaces.

True friends will care about you for who you are, not what political opinions you have. In my opinion it's best to know upfront if someone is going to turn on you because you agreed with a Republican once. That way you don't end up losing someone you grew to really care about. Unfortunately, it's harder for conservatives to make friends in creative spaces than it is for liberals. But it's not impossible. I have faith you'll figure it out, anon. Good luck.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.249 The Talk™

Desi's eyebrows shot up, but she didn't look horrified like most teens. She honestly just looked surprised, like she expected a different conversation. She is still quite young, however, so maybe her mind isn't there yet. If that's true, I'm grateful we caught her before the hormones work her over.

"Before we start," Sophia began, "I just want to say nothing is wrong and we're not accusing you of anything. We just love you a lot and want to give you some things to think about before you start making big decisions, okay?"

"O-kay," Desiree said hesitantly.

I loved Sophia's tone. It was light yet steely. Calm, steady, and full of purpose. That woman always amazed me when she got serious like that. Watching her in action was like flicking on the power switch in a big factory. One moment, everything is silent and black, then the next moment there're lights, movement, and the loud whirring of heavy machinery. The girl is BAD. She surprised me when she changed seats and sat next to me. I thought it might be better for both of us to be near Desi, but maybe she needed to borrow some of my energy.

"Woohoo isn't bad," she continued. "It's really great, actually."

She threw me a quick, flirty side-glance before getting back on task. She better quit playing. I will clear this table and give the kid a live demo, ha!

"It's not just physical. It's emotional and mental. Sometimes, it's even spiritual. You have to be prepared for all the ways it could affect you."

I finally found the courage to speak, so I jumped back in.

"And your readiness is your own personal journey that is not related to anyone else's timetable."

"Oh, that's good, babe," she said, with her hand on my shoulder.

Desi remained quiet, but she was locked in. Her eyes never left Sophia once. What was she more intrigued by? Getting the inside scoop ahead of all her friends, or how amazing her mother was because I could totally relate to being in complete awe of this woman.

"There are a lot of pressures out there," she continued. "Some of it is obvious, but most of it sneaks up and tries to catch you off guard. Peer pressure is the worst. Your friends, classmates...the Internet... People will tell you that you're weird or behind if you're not dating or haven't woohoo'd yet. It's hard to hear people say not nice things about you, but you can't let those voices pressure you into doing something you don't want to do or aren't ready for. You're not weird or behind-"

"I didn't start dating until I was midway through my young adult days," I interrupted.

"See? Me, on the other hand, I started way too early."

Desi's eyes widened, and I knew exactly what went through her head. I too remember the moment I learned my parents were just flawed sims like everyone else and not the superheroes I thought they were.

"I couldn't handle the pressure, and I caved so many times. No one took the time to talk to me like we're talking with you. I just want you to understand—really know—you are allowed to go at your own pace. You don't owe anyone your time, attention-"

"Or your body!!"

I couldn't resist. Sophia bursted out laughing, and Desi tried to hide a grin. I think we all needed a little break, anyway.

"Or your body," Sophia said.

As she took a moment, I couldn't help but admire her. She didn't just lead the discussion; she COOKED! I loved watching her in her bag—at least I hope she's finally realized this is her bag. She shoots threes mid-court every time.

"Like we said before," she continued, "dating is not required. If you'd rather wait and focus on school, that is perfectly fine."

"I personally would prefer that option," I threw in there.

"Luca, stop!"

Desi giggled at us. I'm glad she's enjoying this and not finding it embarrassing or whatever.

"But if you do decide to date, and if woohoo should ever be an option, make sure you are safe," she warned. "Being safe is more than making sure he has protection and you're not in any danger. Being safe is also about honesty. It means the person you're with respects your boundaries, and you respect his. Communication is everything."

"It sure is," I said. "And those boundaries... If someone keeps pushing you, that is NOT okay. Anyone who can't handle a simple 'no' doesn't deserve even a second of your time."

"Ten thousand percent," Sophia said. "And that includes emotional pressure, too. Like, if someone tries to make you feel guilty, or they say stuff like, 'if you really like me, you'll...' that's a huuuuge red flag. Love doesn't ask you to compromise yourself. Real love makes you feel more like yourself."

Desi shifted in her seat as she finally spoke.

"So, like...I understand what you're saying about woohoo, but ... Well, how do you know when someone is worth the time?"

Sophia smirked, shooting me a cheeky glance, and I knew I was in for it.

"Well, first, they don't talk to three other girls while they're talking to you."

I closed my eyes and let out a stern, quick breath. Airing my laundry in front of my daughter to teach her about woohoo was not the illustration I had in mind.

"Sophia..."

She giggled.

Desi's mouth gaped at our little exchange. Even though I wished Sophia would one day finally let that go, I kinda enjoyed Desi getting to see that side of us. Maybe it'll make her more comfortable coming to us about these things...in the future.

"Second, they grow," she said, still looking at me. "And they love you better every day."

"Daddy, you had three girlfriends when you and Mommy were dating??"

"NO, I did not! First of all, me and Mommy were NOT dating, second, two of the girls were just friends, and the third girl just kind of happened and it was ONE time!"

Sophia was still over there, giggling.

"Desi, baby, things don't just happen," she said.

"Will you knock it off?? You're making me look bad!"

Her laughter escalated, and she couldn't even sit up straight. Even Desi got a laugh in.

"A more practical way to tell is to start as friends," I said, trying to get back on task and give the child something real to chew on. "If they make you feel safe, make you laugh"-I glanced at Sophia-"If they care about who you are and not just how you look, I'd say that's a good sign. If they only ever pay attention when it's convenient for them, run."

Sophia winced and sucked air through her teeth.

"Ooof. I had to learn that one the hard way."

Desi piped up just a little.

"Wh-what happened?"

"Uhhh...I dated this guy... He made me feel special when we were alone, but acted like he didn't know me in public. When I wanted to hang out or needed help, he was too busy. But if he was bored or lonely? Oh, suddenly I was the best thing ever. That's convenience, not love."

Noting the time, and Desi's silence, I said, "We've done all the talking tonight, but I want to make sure you understand that whenever you need to talk, we're here to listen. You can come to us about anything. We won't get mad or judge or anything. Do you have any questions for us?"

"Not right now, but can I say something?"

"Of course, sweetie," Sophia said. "You can tell us anything."

"I don't think you should hide from that story, Daddy. It's part of you."

"Well, that's a mighty mature thing for you to say. You're right."

And just like that, my little girl wasn't my little girl anymore.

"Let me say one more thing," Sophia said. "I know it's late. You're already so confident; you get that from your dad. I don't see you struggling with this, but in case you do, I want you to know it is totally okay for you to believe in yourself. It's not vanity to know you are gorgeous—and you are insanely gorgeous. You're not stuck up for knowing how intelligent you are. And kindness? That’s not weakness; it’s a superpower. Understanding your value is so necessary because, if you don't know your worth, some douche will be more than glad to define you himself."

"You did that, Sophia."

"Why, thank you," she said sheepishly.

Desi shook her head at us and got up from the table.

"Okay, I'm going to bed now."

"Okay, sweet potato."

"We love you."

"I know."

[akaluan]

Okay but a clear candidate for GET YOUR DOG/he don't bite meme suffering is Kyoraku or possibly Ukitake. Kaito gets more comfortable with them over time, of course, but there's probably always some part of him that remains wary of the two of them. One bad day and you have a team of six powerful creatures going No.

Or, conversely, Isshin or Ryuuken! Guaranteed to put Kaito's hackles up like 100% of the time, and I'm not entirely certain anyone cares if either of them gets beaten up by protective pokemon XD

Of the people he cares about, I think Orihime will love these new friends, Tatsuki will be curious and especially interested in Lucario and Medicham, Chad will be interested in them in general, Uryuu will be a mix of jealous and wary and amused, and Ichigo will be both amused and put out that Kaito now has MORE ways to beat him up (I mean he'll like the team too, but also Kaito c'mon, you really didn't need to collect SUPER POWERED ANIMALS, please, save some of the OPness for everyone else)

Kisuke will be thankful that his son had someone to rely on during his trip, and INCREDIBLY FASCINATED by the pokemon, and possibly get (lightly) thwapped a time or two for pushing boundaries on accident bc his curiosity got the better of him. Yourichi is never letting Kaito live down the fact that he named his Shinx/luxray after her and possibly takes it upon herself to teach it some extra movement skills and/or how to be a stealth expert. Tessai is a bit exasperated because now he has to figure out how to feed all these new mouths, but also he likes how Kaito relaxes around them so it's fine, he'll figure it out. Ururu LOVES them as soon as she gets over her shyness/wariness of these new faces. Jinta meanwhile sets his mind to pestering Lucario at minimum to teach him things.

Pictures would probably be in his Pokedex! I think Kaito does have a phone, but world hopping makes it pretty hard to keep it reliably charged, even the special phones that Shinigami use, because those rely on ambient reishi, I think? And each world would have a slightly different source of power unless it's another Bleach variant. And while Kaito can adapt fairly easily to different powers, a phone doesn't have the same ability. Meanwhile, I think Urahara could figure out how to get a Pokedex working in the Bleach world without too much trouble (I mean he could do the same with the phone, too, but that requires he be there to tweak it)

Regarding how much he'd fill the Pokedex out.. I think he'd do at least the basics? He'd try to at least encounter most of the pokemon, if out of nothing more than curiosity! I think if he catches any pokemon that he doesn't want to keep he'd find people along the way to give them to, not even trade, just.. oh hey kiddo, want a pokemon? Treat it well, okay? Have fun!

(Kaito 100% is someone who sees absolutely nothing wrong with handing a super powered beast to a 10/11 yr old. This does not cross his mind as anything strange. If anything I think he'd love the concept of the pokemon journey being this whole THING in this world, where an almost-teen just gets to tromp out into the world and explore all over with no one batting an eye at it. He would also be wishing HE could have been born here in order to get out from under Ryuuken's thumb that much sooner.)

We'll see what my muse says about it, but it's REALLY tempting to write at least a "welcome back to Karakura.. wait WHAT DO YOU HAVE??" shortfic, loooooool. I'd stick with the six pokemon I listed at the top initially, but fully open to adding more if u Vibes some extra pokemon for Kaito during ur playthrough XD

I'm restarting my save file for Pokémon Brilliant Diamond and was thinking of naming the protag after Kaito (it seems fitting for the game where you get the time space pokemon haha). Which got me thinking- Do you have any thoughts on what starter and pokemon Kaito would have? 🤔

Hahahahaha, very fitting, yes 💖

Hmmm, if we're talking about pokemon from Brilliant Diamond.. I think he'd either start with a Piplup or a Chimchar. Piplup because of the Pokedex description of being very proud and hard to bond with, and Chimchar because it's a fast fighting pokemon and that's sort of his whole thing.

As for a full team, let's see... I'm sticking to Brilliant Diamond pokemon to uh, ease my decisions a bit, and assuming end game final team. A team that I am assembling based on Vibes, not whether or not it is a balanced team capable of rolling up the final fights easily or not, so absolutely zero promises on viability looooool

Empoleon (first partner pokemon, chosen bc he sees himself in it)

Luxray (caught as Shinx, he needs a cute fluffy to pet)

Medicham (caught as Meditite because it saw him practicing jinzen and joined him)

Lucario (from Riley's gift, Riolu/Lucario are just friendshaped, fite me)

Rapidash (caught as Ponyta, sometimes u wanna go fast without doing all the work yourself)

Weavile (caught as Sneasel, companionship and seeing a bit of who he's become in it)

[supercantaloupe]

wish i could give you a hug about your migraines and medication struggles. you deserve to be cared about accommodated

thank you <3 to be clear so far i haven't encountered anyone who's been uncaring or unaccommodating about it. i'm mostly just frustrated at...not necessarily myself, i guess, but at the mere fact of experiencing new existential challenges in my daily life. it's hard and scary to admit that i'm struggling, it's hard to ask for help, and it's hard to do so with the knowledge that most people have very little real way to help other than going "that's rough, buddy"

[seventh-district]

.

[risingsunresistance]

twitter is entering their "rts > likes" phase now that likes are private after they spent years calling us ungrateful for being demotivated by ratios lmao

[squid--inc]

.....

[mockiatoh]

My biggest frustration with the left has always been the inability/unwillingness to work on making progress inside of the system while advocating for greater change.

I remember the first time I came to this realization.

I was nineteen, pregnant. We couldn’t afford to heat the house because we couldn’t afford the deposit to turn the gas on. It was miserably cold. The duplex we were renting was old and rickety and drafty. The window frames were messed up and there were cracks you could stick your finger through that were open to the elements.

Just, like, to give you an idea where we were financially. And this was better than we’d been doing before!

Anyway, I had recently started going to DSA meetings. And that month, they were talking about how a moderate democrat had successfully gotten a small increase in WIC benefits monthly. It came out to, like, $10 a month.

The members talking—mostly male, almost all doing decent—were scornful. The democrat should have pushed harder and gotten more, refused to accept anything until everyone else caved to their demands. I remember sitting there, quietly drinking the latte in the smallest size they had that I had bought with scrounged quarters, listening. Wishing it wasn’t held in an indie coffee shop because it was a luxury I really couldn’t afford, but it would be rude not to. Enjoying the coffee anyway.

I was one of the lucky ones who was getting that additional $10 a month through WIC. Even more exciting, we were now getting a voucher for the farmers’ market. I casually mentioned that WIC recipients would now be getting farmers’ market vouchers, too.

The guy who organized the meetings was a hard worker, passionate guy. Did something in tech.

He was like, “That’s the thing! These people don’t want farmers market vouchers. They want—” and he went on to describe a bunch of pie in the sky desires. That, yeah, sounded good.

But one. I was one of those people! A lot if the tamiles were super excited about it, myself included.

I had never been to a farmers’ market before. I tried arugula for the first time, a piece pulled from a bunch by the grower as he explained the flavor difference. I hadn’t known before then that different lettuce greens had different flavors, that it was more than just the texture and shape. I tried pesto, which delighted me. Goat cheese. I got three full pounds of strawberries for two dollars, since they were closing soon and the old man selling the berries got a kick out of me.

Anyway. It was like, you have a decent life. Not great but decent! The things that are life changing for me, for us… you already have.

The ten dollars at the grocery store made the difference between a meal of broken-noodles-with-some-half-horrible-pantry-scraps and a meal. It kept me full and healthy! And the additional farmers’ market voucher was world changing for me.

The democrat who worked for those things barely got them through. And it was means tested to hell and back. They weren’t able to get everything they wanted. But what they got made such a huge difference for me, for people like me.

[stvrkeysgal]

casual enough? — rafe cameron

— what happens behind closed doors after rafe sees you hanging out with a different boy? with no exclusivity, what you had with rafe cameron was an absolute blur. until tonight.

warnings: smut! (piv, rafe does it ROUGHHHH) squirting, swearing, "slut" mention

you knew better than to mess with rafe. you were well aware of his jealous tendencies, anger issues, and how he acts when you so as much look at another guy when he's around.

but he's been testing your patience way too much for your liking as of the moment.

he had one arm wrapped around a blonde, smiling at what she said but clearly wasn't interested in what she was saying. you knew rafe—you had him wrapped around your finger, but the idea of him actually hanging around with a different girl (when he himself doesn't want you doing the same) had you seething mad.

so here you were, skin-to-skin against jj motherfucking maybank. his hands on your waist and your hips swaying to the beat of the music that traveled across the whole bar. you laugh at what jj says, and all that could rafe do is watch as you had fun with someone—someone that wasn't him.

rafe and you were nothing exclusive, that he always made sure of. but he could feel that deal slowly slipping away each time he sees you with anyone else. it was getting hard for him to ignore the pang in his chest every time the idea of you getting with someone crosses his mind.

tonight was no different.

rafe did his best to keep his cool, ignore the way you were pressed against jj's body, the two of you so close that your ass grinded against his fucking crotch every time your hips so much as swayed. rafe could see that clearly, and it was killing him.

the final straw, though, was when jj's hand snaked from your waist to your chest and then to your neck. he held you there for a few seconds, which had you turning back to him with a smirk. the original plan was to make rafe jealous, see how much it takes until he finally cracks. you decided to go along with jj since you knew how much the two despised each other. and judging by the way rafe's eyes bounced back from you and jj, a scowl present on his face, you knew the plan was working.

though, what you didn't expect was for rafe to walk towards you and jj, the blonde girl previously in his arms now forgotten. "i need to talk to you, right now." rafe says, standing in front of you and jj. you smirked instead, dancing once again. "sorry, cameron. i'm clearly busy here."

rafe scoffs then pulls you away from jj rather harshly, which had you glaring at him. "not a fucking fan of repeating myself, baby. either you come with me or i fuck you in front of everyone—including your boy right here." rafe had you pressed against him, his lips against your ear as he whispered.

he had you so speechless, that you just blinked at him slowly. your heart thumps against your chest rapidly, which has you sweating underneath his gaze. you look back at jj, but he already understands what you meant. he just winks at you before walking away with a smirk.

rafe seems to be satisfied by that, which brought him to grip your arm a little bit tighter. "if you know what's best for maybank, you're coming home with me."

✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

"please, rafe. just give me a second." you were choking on your spit at this point, as rafe fucked you to the point of overstimulation. his hips slapped against the back of your thigh rather harshly, the skin already turning red due to his movements.

"you just don't want to admit it, but you know you love this dick too much to get me to fucking stop." rafe had your face buried in his pillows as he fucked you mercilessly from behind. he was proven right when you clench around his length, his words running through your mind.

"and i was right. got so fucking tight the moment i said that. you love this, don't you, baby?" you were a gasping, moaning mess underneath rafe. and all you could do was take his harsh thrusts.

your eyes rolled back, tears spilled from them as he kept the same pace while he fucked you through yet another orgasm. his thumb was hooked into the side of your mouth, the action keeping your head in place as he kept on thrusting into you.

you could only moan pathetically in response, eyes rolling back into your head while his cock practically tore you in half. rafe wasn't quite pleased though—he wanted to hear you talk, not moan. "i asked you a goddamn question, didn't i?" a spank landed on your ass then, which earned him a mewl instead. "you better fucking answer when i talk to you," he leans down then, mouth leveled with your ear as he spoke. "just a simple yes, slut. that's all i'm asking."

your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as you fought the urge to make a mess and squirt all over the sheets. but rafe had other plans. he flipped you over so you laid on your back, your eyes immediately meeting his. "fuck, yes! i love it, rafe. i love it so much." you managed to breathe out in between sighs and gasps, which had him smirking. "that's about right."

he could feel you clenching around his length once more, which he hissed softly. "shit, you gonna cum again? that's three times in a row, baby." his fingers moved to your clit then, rubbing the sensitive bud in fast, and hard circles. "come on, cum for me. wanna see you make a mess all over this dick."

after three particular thrusts, you gushed all over rafe's length, making a mess on the sheets and his stomach. "that's it, baby," he leans down until he was in level with your neck, in which he kissed and sucked slowly. "love it when you squirt all over me."

you could tell rafe was close, judging by the way his hips seemed to lose rhythm by the minute. "gonna fucking cum inside you, baby. gonna fill this pussy up." rafe fucks you through another orgasm, his mouth latched onto your neck while he did so.

what you don't expect are the words that come out of his mouth next. "don't want anyone having you like this, you get that? i'm fucking yours. i was always yours." rafe says through gritted teeth, while you stared at him with wide and teary eyes.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum." rafe finishes inside you after he says it, and he pulls away to watch him drip out of you slowly.

"in case it's not clear yet, i fucking love you so much. seeing you with jj like that killed me earlier. i want you all for myself, baby." rafe lays beside you, chest heaving up and down as he caught his breath.

"i love you too, rafe. you're it for me."

first actual rafe smut i wrote??? holy shit

drew / rafe's masterlist

[mercvry-glow]

all that gleams (18+)

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. everyone seems to be hitting on you tonight, and your husband doesn't seem to appreciate all of the attention you're getting.

warnings. this is 18+ so mdni, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough/jealousy sex, half plot/half porn, sex in the work place, hospital setting, age gap (jack late 40s, reader late 20s to early 30s), reader gets hit on by men who are not jack, non-consensual touching (patient grabs reader), reader has hair, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. where the fuck do I even begin? uhhhh- so many people asked for a sequel to all that glitters and I never thought I'd actually do it but here we are! I absolutely live for their dynamic, and they're softcore rich which is truly the dream. I'm actually really proud of this, especially bc this is my second time writing any form of smut! as always any and all feedback is appreciated and please enjoy!

wc. 4700+

all that glitters

There wasn’t a person in your life who hadn’t told you getting married so young was a mistake. A newly minted nurse with a shiny new degree, a big diamond ring, and a big house in the nicest part of town—people loved to talk. And they did, especially behind your back.

“Too fast,” they said

“Too young.”

 “She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.”

But they didn’t know Jack.

He’d been your constant through it all. Through the twelve-hour shifts, the night terrors you both had but didn’t always talk about, the tangled mess of silky bed sheets and plain coffee mornings. He never missed a beat, not with you. He always made sure the front door was locked, that you didn’t forget to eat, that you never had to face a bad day completely alone.

Jack Abbot was your storm and shelter all at once.

Still, some days it felt like you were speaking two different languages. You’d grown up with champagne brunches, sorority sisters, and an Ivy League education on Daddy’s dime. Jack grew up fast though—boots on the ground, blood on his hands, and scars no one could see unless he let them. 

His world had edges, and darkness only he could understand. 

Yours had comfy throw pillows and a walk-in closet.

Falling for each other had been a whirlwind, but staying in love… that took work. 

Especially now.

Lately, every conversation felt like walking on eggshells. He was short with you. Distant. And maybe you were a little more sensitive than usual—he always said you felt deeply, cared too much. Maybe you did miss the way he used to look at you, touch you, talk to you like you were the only person in the room.

Now? Now he was somewhere else—lost in his head, behind some wall you couldn’t climb no matter how hard you tried.

And you still tried.

 You showed up to work, same time as him, hair curled, and lip gloss on as usual. Your scrubs were still fitted just right, your badge reel sparkled, and your sneakers matched your pastel compression socks of the day. You were tired, overworked, and emotionally frayed—but damn it, you still tried, for yourself, for him, and most certainly for your patients .

He didn’t even say “Hi,” when you checked in.

Just a curt nod, eyes already scanning a trauma sheet.

Fine. You had a job to do anyway.

The ER was chaotic, as usual. You floated between rooms, upbeat as always, soft-voiced with your patients, making the new interns laugh with your sparkly pens and habit of humming softly under your breath.

That’s when he showed up.

Leo, tall, handsome in a sun-kissed, ex-lifeguard in the Baywatch kind of way, and new. The latest temp nurse from another hospital, and definitely not shy.

“You always this put-together at 7 p.m.?” he said, grinning as he helped you restock the IV cart.

You glanced up from your clipboard, smiling just enough. “Only when there’s new employees to impress.”

He laughed, nudging your elbow. “Well, consider me thoroughly impressed.”

Across the hall, you didn’t see Jack. But he was seeing everything.

You caught a flash of movement in your peripheral vision—him, leaning against the med station, pretending to read a chart. The way his jaw clenched was less than subtle. So was the way he suddenly had something urgent to discuss with Dr. Reese, right behind where you were standing.

You didn’t react. Just went back to scanning meds, asking Leo if he needed help finding anything on his first night. You were being polite. Friendly. Maybe a little intentionally oblivious—but only because it felt good to be noticed by anyone today.

Jack didn’t say a word.

But every time you turned around, he was there. Close. Watching.

He didn’t like it. You could feel it.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt something that wasn’t just disappointment.

You felt giddy.

You weren’t trying to make him jealous.

But if he was suddenly remembering the woman he married? The one who lit up a room? The one who still wore t-shirts to bed and nothing else, even when he acted like he didn’t care?

Good.

Let him remember.

The next few hours passed in a blur of motion and monitors—IVs, trauma alerts, vitals to chart and families to console. You stayed busy, focused, but not so focused you didn’t notice the way Jack kept drifting into your orbit.

Not close enough to talk.

Just… there.

Lingering near the nurse’s station when you laughed at something Leo said. Answering the trauma bay calls himself when you usually did first. A silent presence, watching without watching, always just a little too close not to be intentional.

There had been so much to do between learning about coworkers drama, taking care of patients, and dealing with incoming traumas that you’d been on your feet for almost seven hours straight before getting any sort of break.

Still not having found the right time to touch the overnight oats in your lunchbox.

Typical.

You finally ducked into the break room around 2:30 a.m., practically vibrating from a bit too much caffeine and sheer stubbornness. Your sneakers squeaked on the tile as you opened your lunch tote, pulling out your jar with a satisfied “Aha”. You gave it a little shake and popped the lid, the faint scent of almond butter and cinnamon curling into the air.

Leo was already in there, lounging in the corner with a Coke Zero and half a sandwich he didn’t seem particularly interested in eating.

“That looks suspiciously healthy,” he said, eyeing your jar like it confused him.

You grinned. “It’s delicious. Cinnamon, chia seeds, oat milk, with a little bit of honey and almond butter. You should try it sometime—maybe it will lower your blood pressure.”

Leo let out a low whistle. “Oof. She’s cute and judgmental.”

You wiggled your spoon at him. “I’m not judgmental. I’m just stating a fact,”

“Same difference,”

You laughed, shaking your head as you settled on the couch. Your big water tumbler clinked softly on the table as you set it down. Leo glanced at it.

“Okay, real talk. How many cups do you own?”

“Oh at least ten,” you said proudly. “And yes, they all match my scrubs and socks.”

He chuckled. “Of course they do.”

You were in the middle of telling him about your latest homemade electrolyte concoction—something with sea salt, lemon, and maple syrup—when the door creaked open.

Jack stepped inside, silent as ever. No one noticed at first, but you felt him before you saw him. That familiar pull.

You looked up and smiled, just a little.

He didn’t smile back.

He walked to the cabinet, pulled out a pod of instant coffee, and started making the world’s saddest cup of caffeine.

“You good?” you asked, casually, spoon still dangling from your mouth.

Jack shrugged. “Fine.”

Leo gave him a nod. “Rough night, man?”

“Same as every night,” Jack said coolly.

There was a pause.

You went back to your oats.

Leo leaned over slightly, stage-whispering, “Is it true you color-code your vitamins?”

You lit up. “Oh my god, yes! You have to! It’s so satisfying.”

Jack let out a breath—not quite a sigh. Not quite anything.

Just something.

Leo turned to him. “She’s kind of a fairy, huh? Healthy, pretty, and scary organized.”

Jack didn’t answer. Just stirred his coffee with the kind of force that made the spoon clink too loudly against the mug.

“I mean, who even makes time for meal prep on night shift?” Leo kept going, still playful, still oblivious. “She comes in glowing while I’m running on vending machine Pop-Tarts and anxiety.”

You grinned again. “You say that like Pop-Tarts are bad.”

Jack finally looked up. Right at you.

“I liked you better when you were sneaking granola bars from my locker.”

Your breath caught a little—not because it was mean. But because it sounded like a memory.

You raised a brow. “You never let me finish the boxes.”

Jack’s gaze didn’t move.

“Maybe I liked the distraction.”

The room went quiet again.

Leo cleared his throat and stood. “Okay, I’m gonna grab another Coke. You two want anything?”

“No,” Jack said, a little too quickly.

You shook your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

When Leo left, the silence stretched.

You scooped another spoonful of oats, pretending not to feel the weight of Jack’s stare.

“You didn’t answer my text,” he said finally.

You blinked. “Which one?”

“The one about locking the side door this morning.”

“Oh.” You smiled faintly. “Sorry, I was halfway through meal prepping for us and my mom called... You know how she gets.”

Jack nodded, jaw tight. “You’re supposed to text me back.”

You raised a brow again, but this time softer. “Jack. It was about a door.”

“It was about you being safe.”

That landed somewhere in your chest.

You didn’t say anything for a second. Just set your spoon down and leaned back into the couch.

“I was fine,” you said gently. “I promise.”

Jack didn’t reply. But he reached for your cup, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip (not using the straw) like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You stared. “That has lemon in it.”

He grimaced. “Tastes like a scented candle.”

You laughed.

He didn’t.

But the corners of his mouth twitched—just a little.

He set your water with a quiet thud, the lid clicking into place like it was holding something back for him, too.

You tilted your head, watching him in that way you always did when you were trying to read what was going on behind those stormy, hazel eyes. “You're drinking lemon water,” you said, voice lilting. “Should I be worried?”

Jack didn’t look at you. “I was thirsty.”

You smiled. “And yet the entire fridge full of bottled water didn’t do it for you?”

He shrugged.

“Grumpy,” you said under your breath, just loud enough.

His eyes finally flicked to yours. “I’m not grumpy.”

“You kind of are.”

“I’m tired.”

“You always say that when you’re being grumpy.”

Jack gave you a slow look—flat, dry, and just a little amused. “You finished?”

“Not even close,” you said sweetly, your elbow propped on the arm of the couch. “You’re cranky, you’re overcaffeinated, and you get weirdly possessive whenever someone’s nice to me.”

That got his attention.

“I’m not possessive,” he said.

You smirked. “Jack, you nearly snapped Leo’s neck when he said I had good handwriting.”

“That’s not what he said, and you know that.”

You blinked, then laughed. “Okay, fine. ‘Prettiest charting I’ve ever seen,’ and he winked. So what?”

Jack’s jaw tightened—just slightly.

You stood, stretching your arms overhead in a way that made your scrub top ride up just a little. His eyes tracked the motion like muscle memory.

You stepped closer, toes nearly brushing his boots. “I like that you care about this,” you said, softer now. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”

He looked at you—really looked at you—for the first time all night.

“You drive me crazy, kid.” he muttered.

You beamed. “So you are jealous.”

Jack sighed through his nose, the tension melting from his shoulders like an exhale he’d been holding in too long. His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering a second too long.

“I know you’re mine,” he said quietly. “I just… sometimes I forget the rest of the world doesn’t always know it.”

Your chest tightened. Not in a painful way. In a finally, you’re here with me again kind of way.

You reached for his hand and squeezed. “Well, they do. But if you ever forget again, I’ll tattoo your name on my ass”

That earned you a snort—low and surprised.

“I’m serious,” you teased, squeezing his fingers. “Right across my cheeks. Property of Jack Abbot. Think it’d go with my Bikinis when I start tanning again?”

His lips twitched. “You’re insane.”

“Mm. And you’re stuck with me.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice quieter now, as he dipped down for a soft kiss,  “Wouldn’t change it.”

And there it was.

The part of him no one else got to see—the softness under all that armor he put up. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing in this chaotic, blood-slicked hospital worth holding onto.

Before you could say anything else, the overhead crackled to life:

“Trauma en route. ETA four minutes. MVA, two patients. GSW secondary.”

Jack’s head lifted, all instinct now. You were already moving toward the door when his hand caught yours.

He didn’t pull, didn’t squeeze—just held.

“Be careful,” he said.

You leaned in again, kissing his cheek, quick and certain. “Always.”

Then the moment passed, and the hallway swallowed you both—he leading, you following, hearts synced in the rhythm of the ER. But his hand brushed yours again as you walked.

The trauma had come in hard and fast—twisted metal, broken glass, and enough blood to soak through your shoes. Jack had been in the thick of it, barking orders, steady hands moving like muscle memory while you worked across from him, suctioning, suturing, stabilizing. For a while, there was no room for anything else. No talking. No teasing. Just the two of you, back in sync, locked in the rhythm you knew so well. It was easy to forget the cracks when the adrenaline kicked in.

But by 4:15 a.m., the ER had slowed to a lull.

The kind that was never quiet, but at least breathable.

You’d just finished helping a resident clean up trauma one when they wheeled in another patient—mid-40s, minor head lac, walking wounded and very, very drunk.

You smiled politely, grabbing a suture kit.

“Alright, sir. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Can you sit still for me?”

He gave you a once-over that made your skin crawl. “Sure thing, sweetheart. For you, I’ll be real good.”

You kept it professional. “Thank you.”

But the longer you worked, the bolder he got.

“You married?” he slurred.

You didn’t answer.

“Bet your husband’s not half as pretty as you.”

You offered a tight smile. “Try to stay still. This part stings a little.”

He didn’t even flinch. “You ever date older guys? I got a boat, you know.”

You glanced around the bay, but the resident was long gone, charting somewhere out of earshot.

“I’m flattered, really, but I already have a boat,” you said lightly, finishing the last stitch. “And you’re gonna feel real silly about this in the morning.”

He grinned, crooked and gross. “Not if you give me your number.”

And then he reached out—his hands brushing your hips in a way that was not accidental.

You stepped back instantly, heart thudding.

“That’s enough sir,” you said sharply, your voice still steady, still calm—but colder now. “I’m going to step out for a minute, since I’ve finished. Someone else will check on you soon.”

You didn’t wait for a reply.

You slipped into the furthest supply closet you could easily find and leaned against the shelves, chest rising and falling like you’d just run a sprint. Your hands were shaking—more with anger than fear—but still. It clung to your skin.

The door creaked open a minute later.

“Hey.”

Jack.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, gaze scanning your face. “One of the other nurses said he got grabby.”

You looked up at him, throat tight. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t answer that right away. Just moved closer and touched your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he needed to ground himself.

“You sure?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded. “Just… gross. Not the first, won’t be the last.”

His jaw flexed. “It shouldn’t be happening at all.”

You leaned into his hand. “It’s okay. I handled it.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You looked up at him. “Jack—”

He stepped closer, and suddenly his body was pressed against yours, warm and solid and steady. His hands found your waist, rough fingers curling around your hips.

“I should be the only one touching you,” he said, voice low.

“We’ll get written up…”

“I don’t care.”

But Jack wasn’t hearing logic right now. He was standing there like he could still smell every guy you had met tonight on you, like the air hadn’t cleared yet.

“Hey.” You placed your hands on his chest, grounding him. “We don’t have to do this here…”

His hands squeezed your waist. “You’re mine.”

“I know.”

“You don’t flirt like that with anyone else, right?”

You blinked, caught off-guard. “Flirt like what?”

“Like you did with that prick.”

You frowned a abit. “I was being nice. He asked if I wanted  something from the vending machine- he asked you too and you looked at him like he offered me lingerie.”

Jack didn’t budge. His grip didn’t loosen.

You tried again. Softer this time.

“I steal your clothes. I come home to you. I wear the ring you bought me, and I’m your wife. I chose you.”

His eyes searched yours—tired, and heavy, with a mix of something else.

You rose on your toes, placing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “I’m yours, Jack.”

And then his arms were around you fully, pulling you in like he needed to feel your heartbeat to believe it. Your heart thudded in your chest, a beat behind your breath. You looked at him, eyes narrowed, lips parted.

You didn’t hear him lock the door.

You felt it.

That soft, decisive click behind you—like a promise.

“Did you just lock the door?”

Jack’s answer was a look—slow, hot, and so heavy it pinned you in place. He stepped with the kind of precision that said this wasn’t spontaneous. No, he’d decided the second he saw you walk into the closet room, cheeks flushed, lip gloss smudged, tensions high. 

The second all these guys started paying attention to you tonight. 

Jack hadn’t liked that.

He tried to be quiet about it, like always. Quiet the way a storm is—only right before it breaks.

He stopped just barely inches from you, hand coming up to trace a line along your jaw. His fingers were thick, rough, warm, familiar. His touch didn’t ask permission. It remembered.

“You keep smiling like that,” he said low, his voice a gravel-coated whisper, “and I’ll have to fuck the memory of it out of you.”

Your breath caught—somewhere between outrage and arousal. “Jack—”

But you didn’t get the rest out.

He kissed you.

Not sweet. Not careful.

Claiming.

His hands tangled in your hair, dragging you into him like it was instinct, like your mouth had always belonged to his. You melted into him, your body curving against his like you were built for this—built for him. His hips pressed forward, pinning you to the wall of the storage closet, and your head thudded back softly against the cool plaster as his lips slid down to your throat, sucking, biting just enough to make you gasp.

“Locked the door for a reason,” he murmured, tongue flicking against the skin where your pulse fluttered. “Tired of pretending I didn’t want you every second we’re here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping his shirt like lifelines. “You’re sooo jealous.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes devouring. “Damn right I’m jealous.”

His hand slid under your scrub top, skimming up your ribs, palm flat, hot and possessive. “You’re mine—I can’t fucking stand it when they look at you like you’re not.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whispered, breathless, lips grazing his.

His answer was a growl.

Jack spun you, quick and controlled, pressing you front-first against the shelves. Supplies rattled, somewhere above you—gloves, gauze, sterile wraps—but it was the sound of his breath at your neck that made your knees threaten to buckle.

His hands roamed—under your shirt to your tits, over the waistband of your scrub pants, every inch of bare skin he found earning a new kind of heat.

“You wanna be flirted with?” he whispered, voice dragging down your spine. “Fine. But I get to remind you who makes you cum”

You gasped as his mouth met the base of your neck, teeth grazing, tongue following. “Jack…”

“You knew,” he said again, almost reverent now. 

And god help you, you did.

Because you’d walked in here to take a second, needing this—needing him. Not just his hands or his mouth or the way he made you come apart so effortlessly, but this claiming. This reminder. That under all the stress, the silence, the long nights and missed moments—the fire still burned. Hot. Unrelenting.

His fingers slipped lower, teasing the waist of your scrub pants, and you pressed back against him without thinking, needing more, needing everything.

“You’re mine,” he murmured again, lips brushing your shoulder, low and slow. “Say it.”

You turned your head just enough to whisper, “I’m yours, Jack. Always.”

And that was all it took.

He kept you facing the shelves, a hand coming down to your hips to steady you as he continued to feel you up with the other. “Yeah? You gonna be my good girl, sweetheart?” 

The whimper you let out was pathetic. A low pitched sound that came from the back of your throat, as Jack started to flood your senses. He gave your ass a quick, hard, smack. Hand going back to rub over the spot, as it snapped you out of your daze. “I asked you a question, baby.” 

You nodded, desperately. Already whoozy from the assault on your sense that your husband brought on. “Mhm! Jack-”

He shushed you, gently pushing down your scrub pants, “Gotta make this quick and quiet, or they’ll all know what a bad girl you’ve been.” 

Reaching back, you straightend up leaning into his burning touch, wanting him closer than he already was. You could feel how hard he was beneath his cargos, half chubbed as he ground his hips into your panty-clad ass. 

You would’ve felt embarressed if this hadn’t felt so right. 

Clothes barely off, lazily grinding against your husband in a closet like you’re back in some college frat house at UPenn. 

Jack doesn’t waste anymore time though, hastily shoving your panties down, rough fingers making quick work of finding your swollen clit. The tight circles he does against you, make you feel dizzy—legs already beginning to shake, as if you haven’t been working for ten hours already. 

Your moans are muffled by your arm as you lean further into the shelves, but press your hips back toward Jack. Your resolve slowly slipping, as he dips a finger in your wet heat. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” he groans out softly, continuing as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

Then he just pulls away.

Not entirely, still so close that you’ve basically become one. It’s enough for you to whine at the loss of contact, pushing back into him hoping he’ll start again. 

“Why’d you stop?” Jack can practically hear the pout in your voice. The breathy little lilt of displeasure showing in your tone. 

“Sorry, baby. We only have time for one thing, and I’d much rather make you cum on my cock.” He kisses the back of your neck, gentle and loving as ever as he reaches down to free himself from his scrub pants. 

He’s aching, he’s so hard. 

He takes a few deep breaths before haphazrdly stroking himself. Fisting his cock in his meaty hand, already slick after playing with your wet little cunt. 

Jack wasn’t going to make love to you. 

He was going to fuck you like you needed it. 

Lining himself up, Jack pushed in with a solid thrust of his sturdy hips. You just about collapsed into the shelves, already feeling so full of Jack as he started a steady rhythm. It was overwhelming, one of his hands tight against your hips as he used it to guide you into his thrusts, the other snaked over your mouth to muffle your breathy moans because the hallway was just beyond the locked closet door.

“Shit- you’re so fucking tight, baby.” you cleched against him as he drove himself further into you, trying to angle himself to hit the spot that would have you seeing stars in no time. 

Your walls hugged him tight, leaving him a mess as he watched himself slip in and out of you in a trance like state. 

“Fuck Jack-” you start mewling, hips pushing and grinding to meet his thrusts. “Ah- ah, you’re so deep.” 

He mumbles something incoherent against your shoulder, both of his hands moving to your hips and ass to get more leverage to fuck you nice and hard. 

You can tell you’re making a mess of yourself, panties clearly ruined with how you’re leaking down your thighs and his cock. Each thrust is a new shockwave of pleasure you don’t expect, but Jack doesn’t let up and you don’t want him to. 

“Too m-much,” his cock throbs, hard and heavy inside you as he stills for just a second. 

“Yeah? It’s too much for you, Sweetheart?” It’s almost mocking as he draws it out into longer deeper strokes—the ones that make it hard to breathe, the air escaping your lungs faster than you can take the chance to gasp for air. 

“You’re just so big,” you whimper out, trying to keep yourself from collapsing back against him as your legs start to feel like jello. 

Jack gives you a light scoff, “Good thing you’re being a good girl, and takin’ me so well, huh?” He keeps the pace steady, if not a bit quicker. Switching up the tempo to keep you on your toes and eager for him. 

“Mhm!” You can feel your orgasm building, that all too familiar pressure in your lower tummy bubbling over. “Fuck- fuck I’m gonna cum-”

It’s like a switch flips in his brain, kicking him into high gear as he spins you around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close as he lifts one of your legs around his waist. 

“Yeah, pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?” He asks you through a sloppy kiss, one that smears what’s left of your lip gloss. 

You feel like you’re about to implode, too tense and too loose all at once. Your hands find purchase on his clothed chest and the curls at the base of his neck, as he continues his loving assault on your body and senses. Jack is everywhere, and you’d never want it to be different. 

He watches as you finally let go, shivering your way through your orgasm as you cum on his thick cock. Your breath catches as he kisses you slowly, working his cock in and out of your gushing pussy still chasing his own release. 

“Fuck- you ruin me baby,” He groans into your kiss swollen lips, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before burying himself as deep as possible. His own breathing shallow as he spills his load deep into your cunt, right where it belongs. 

Blinking slowly, you return to your body. Jack looks down at you, capturing your lips in one last sweet kiss as he gently pulls out of you. Your body shudders at the now empty feeling, “You with me, Baby?”

His thumbs stroke your cheeks, gentle and loving as you just stare at him a little dazed. You manage a soft hum, and he begins the process of putting you back together for the public. 

You cringed a bit as he helped you pull the pants of your scrubs back up, at least they were dark… right? You’d change into your backups as soon as you found the courge to leave the storage room. Then there was your hair which Jack lovingly braided as quickly as he could, before fixing himself the best he could

“Everyone’s totally gonna know… Ugh…”  you leaned your head against his chest, sighing at the thought of John or Ellis questioning where you two were for the past 15 minutes. 

“You look fine, besides who cares?” He questioned, “Do you know how many times I’ve heard the same story from other departments,” 

“Yeah but this is us,” you gave him a deadpan expression, as he reached behind you so that he could grab your stethoscope and badge reel from one of the many shelves behind you. 

He gave you a nonchalant shrug, and one last kiss on the forehead. “You ready to go get ‘em tiger?”

“You’re so dead whe we get home, it’s not even funny Jack Abbot!” 

“We still have about two more hours, so I think I’m safe, Princess.” 

mercvry-glow 2025