#how to get Google Voice phone number

[ilikeevilblondes]

Beck and Call

18+ MDNI!

Summary: You’ve been divorced from Joel for a little while, now. But when your sink breaks and threatens to flood your house right before a date, you have no one else to call but him. Why does he come? You don’t know. Why does he look so fucking good? You don’t know, either.

W.C: ~6.2k

TL;DR: Rule number one of getting divorced: don’t fuck your ex-husband. (Optional).

Warnings: ex-husband!joel x ex-wife!reader, sappy love confessions, improper use of a sink, praise, oral f!receiving, mirror sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, (no outbreak!)

Note: as a child of divorce, i am allowed to touch upon this matter. anyway, happy fucking i mean reading

Part One | Part Two

One-third. A married couple’s least favourite fraction. 

It was (and is) a well-known fact that one in three marriages ends in separation. And of course, you—being the lucky duck you were—found yours rapidly accelerating toward that destination.

You and Joel had agreed that you’d be better off apart. Joel got his own place while you kept the house. And Sarah lived with you every other week.

All you needed to do was send your attorney the signed divorce papers.

Outside of the sympathetic comments you received from acquaintances and relatives almost daily, you were doing just fine.

In fact, tonight you had a date.

A date. The kind that made you choose a tight-fitting dress that hugged your curves just right. The kind that inspired you to wear your hair in something other than a claw clip. The kind that provoked you to shave places you haven’t shaved in a long time.

The lucky bachelor was a fellow divorcee named Mark, whom you had met on a single-parent dating app. He had a full head of hair, a decent sense of humour, and two rescued Labradors. He offered to bring you to his favourite Italian restaurant, bringing up the fact that he’d pick up the bill no matter what, much to your protests. Needless to say, you had a good feeling about him.

After one last check in the mirror, you grabbed your coat and slung your purse over your shoulder, ready to head out the door.

Then, you heard it.

A faint gurgling. 

You blinked twice, trying to zero in on the sound. Proceeding a few moments of intense concentration, you followed the sound into the ensuite bathroom.

The faucet was running. Had you forgotten to turn it off?

You reached for the handle. Twisted it. It spun freely, and nothing happened. 

You tried and tried again, but all your efforts were in vain. You could only watch the tap stubbornly defy you as the handle jutted uselessly, loose in its socket.

“Shit.” You breathed.

The faucet sputtered out a particularly heavy spurt of water as if to say: shit, indeed.

You sighed, staring helplessly at the sink as it stared contumaciously back, water that couldn’t be swallowed by the drain toppling over the edge of the sink.

A quick Google search informed you that you needed to turn off the principal water pipe—the mains. Which you didn’t know how to do. 

So, you resolved to delegate the problem to more capable hands. Like, a twenty-four-hour plumbing service. No, they could easily overcharge you. You could call your dad? No, he was too far.

Or…

Sighing, you dug out your phone from your purse and called your only remaining option. Someone who was a seasoned contractor, someone who dealt with this sink before, and someone who you just so happened to be divorcing. 

He answered on the third ring.

“Hey—everything okay?” Joel’s concerned voice filtered through your phone.

“No.” You inhaled. 

“No?” Joel echoed hesitantly, then waited for elaboration.

When nothing came, he cleared his throat.

Slightly confused, slightly wry, he continued, “This is the part where you tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Um, my sink’s busted.”

“Your sink… is busted?”

“Yeah. Faucet won’t turn off. It-It’s a lot of water.” You bit the inside of your cheek, leaning on the wall. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

A moment of silence, then:

“You need me to fix it?” 

Was that annoyance? Exhaustion? It definitely wasn’t exhilaration at the prospect of doing manual labour at eight o’clock on a Friday evening.

“You know what? Forget I called. This was stupid. Sorry to bother you—”

“I’m on my way.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, after he hung up, the smallest of smiles began forming on your face. 

Fifteen minutes later, a knock came from your front door.

You swung the door open, and there he stood. Tool bag in hand, flannel shirt stretching tightly over his broad shoulders, salt-and-pepper hair just a little bit unkempt.

It had been a good few months since the two of you went your separate ways, but there he was—still at your beck and call. What that meant, exactly, remained to be seen. 

But you were glad to see him, nonetheless.

“Hi,” You said breathlessly.

Upon seeing you, Joel’s brows shot up, and he blinked a few times.

“Hi.” He said back slowly, then cleared his throat. “Am I… interruptin’ something?”

You glanced down. Right. Tight dress and makeup.

“I have a date in…” You raised your left wrist and winced as you looked down at your watch. “Five minutes ago.”

“A date.” He clicked his tongue, nodding to himself. “Well, I’ll try to make this quick, then.”

You hummed a noise of agreement, pivoted, and, with a wave of your hand, invited Joel inside.

He stepped through the doorway with a quiet grunt. And, as he bent down to undo his boots, his coffee-brown gaze landed on a pile of unopened mail by the entryway table. A few envelopes had slipped to the floor, and he crouched to gather them without thinking. 

But, as he straightened up to his full height, his eyes lingered on the recipient line.

“Mrs Miller?” Joel read aloud.

“What?” Your breath caught in your throat, and you spun around to meet his stare.

Joel wordlessly held the envelope up with two fingers, the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

“Oh.” You cringed inwardly. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t, uh, realise that you were keepin’ the name.” He shrugged offhandedly, tossing the stack of mail onto the entryway table.

“I’m not. I just…” You ran a hand through your hair. “Paperwork isn’t final.”

For the divorce.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched together. “I sent you my signed copies, if—” 

“I know you did. I just haven’t sent the papers to my lawyer yet.” You pressed your lips into a thin line and avoided his gaze. “Just got a lot on my plate, recently.”

That was very unconvincing.

Joel hummed a noncommittal noise.

“Well…” He huffed sheepishly. “You know I always liked my name on you.”

You swallowed, feeling your stomach do a funny flip and your ears burn up. Why were your ears burning up?

“C’mon. The problem is upstairs.”

The faucet, to your dismay, hadn’t stopped. It was worse now, if that was even possible, spitting little rogue sprays of water alongside the main stream. Great.

You checked your watch again. Fifteen minutes late. You would no doubt have a few missed calls from your poor suitor if you had the guts to check your phone.

Joel sank to one knee as he inspected the sink, squinting at the appliance and shaking his head. Miraculously, he reached in and, a few rusty squeaks later, the water stopped.

“You fixed it.” You blinked.

“Far from it,” He muttered, frowning. “The cartridge’s shot. And the valve stem’s stripped. Who installed this?”

Without missing a beat, “You did.”

“…Right.”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest. “So?”

“So, this isn’t a quick fix. I need to pull out the whole assembly. Maybe replace the handle, too. And judging by the corrosion around this nut—” He held up a discoloured metal hexagon like it had personally offended him. “You’ve probably had a leak back here for a while.”

You blinked. “And you didn’t notice that when you lived here?”

Joel turned to shoot you a look. “I was your husband, not your handyman.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn I married you for that toolbox of yours.”

“And here I thought it was ‘cause of my radiant personality.”

“Definitely not that.” You huffed out a laugh.

Despite his back being turned to you, you could just about make out a reluctant smile forming through his slightly greying stubble.

You watched as he rolled up his plaid sleeves, exposing tanned forearms that were entirely too bulky for someone in his mid-forties. He then dug into his bag, fishing out an Allen Wrench.

“You can go on your date,” Joel added, not looking at you. “I’ll be out of here in an hour. Two, tops. But… if you feel like gettin’ frisky, maybe do it at his place. Just in case.”

Right, your date.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you took out your phone. Six missed calls and a flurry of concerned texts.

Decidedly, you typed out an apologetic message mentioning a water-related emergency and stuffed your phone back in your purse.

“I’m staying with you.”

Joel froze and turned to look at you from over his shoulder. “No, you ain’t. I’ll take too long.”

“Well, I can’t leave you to fix my problems while I’m out eating overpriced ravioli.” You shrugged and, with a soft grunt, took a seat against the wall near him. “You’re not a plumber, you’re a… you’re my…”

Ex-husband.

You cleared your throat, then emphasised, “You’re not a plumber.”

Joel let out a slow exhale. “Do whatever you want, but I doubt watching me fix your sink is gon’ be as fun as your date.”

“I’ve got a full bottle of Pinot Noir in the fridge.” You tilted your head. “We can make it fun.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not—not in that way.” You rubbed a clammy hand down your face.

To your surprise, that earned you a small, gruff laugh from Joel, his eyes crinkling momentarily the way they only did when he was truly amused.

His voice was soft when he responded. 

“Go on and get the wine, then, sweetheart.”

Two crystal glasses and a little while later, Joel had put down his wrench and opted instead to sit beside you on your tiled bathroom floor, his shoulders brushing up against yours in the cramped space.

Efforts to tame the defiant sink had long since been forgotten. He did the best he could, but retired upon discovering that you had no spare sink handle lying around—how very unprepared of you.

The bad news was that you weren’t going to be able to wash your hands in the master bedroom ensuite tonight. The good news was that you were having a surprisingly good time with Joel. The conversation evolved from discussing your stood-up date (you showed Mark’s profile, Joel was convinced he was lying about his dogs being rescues), then to how his company was going, and then, reminiscing about the good ol’ days.

“All I’m sayin’,” Joel continued through a laugh. “Is that she did it on purpose.”

“My mom has always been bad with names!”

“Bad enough to still call me ‘George’ after a year of us datin’?” He scoffed.

You stifled a giggle. “In her defence, it’s a very similar—”

“Like hell it is. And your dad? He was worse.” Joel chuckled, finishing the last of his wine. “How is he?”

“Fine. Just called him yesterday, actually.”

“He still callin’ me–?”

“He still calls you ‘porn stache’, yes.”

Joel snorted into his hand, his shoulders bobbing up and down with laughter. Real, genuine laughter.

You smiled and turned to steal a glance at his profile.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, his hooked nose scrunched mid-chuckle, and his laugh was exactly as it was before—low and rough, but somehow boyish and unguarded.

You had almost forgotten how his whole face lit up when he laughed.

And, you didn’t mean to stare. But you did. 

God, you missed this.

“I think I prefer George.” Joel ran a hand down his face, still smiling.

You cleared your throat and leaned over to retrieve the almost-empty wine bottle, refilling your glasses.

“Sarah told me to say hi to you, if I got the chance, by the way.” You said, pouring the Pinot Noir into his glass. “She’s with my parents at the lake house.”

“The lake house?” Joel hummed, taking another sip of his drink. “Still disappointed I didn’t get that in the settlement.”

You snorted, amused. “You don’t even like lakes.”

“No, I don’t like the mosquitoes that come with the lakes.” Joel corrected you, pointedly. “But, I don’t know, I guess I just miss it. A lot of good memories there.”

You felt yourself smile. “Yeah. Yeah, there were.”

A beat.

“Hey, at least you kept the cars. And the boat. And the frequent flier miles. And, well, you see Sarah every other week.” You turned to look at Joel, but he was already looking at you.

A certain vulnerability swam in the brown of his eyes. Something you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Yeah, well… there were more important things I couldn’t keep.”

The air thinned. The wine, the laughter, the conversation—everything dissolved in the quiet admission, hanging thickly in the space between you.

And suddenly, there was only you and Joel and the mistakes that had wedged you apart yet somehow brought you back together again; on a random Friday evening on the floor of a bathroom you used to share.

“Joel…” You swallowed, your hand falling from your lap onto the tiles.

But you couldn’t form any semblance of a sentence. How could you? 

There was nothing to say. Yes, you missed him. ‘Missed’ was an understatement. 

Sometimes you’d roll over in the night, wishing to feel the weight of his arm resting on your waist, reassuring you that these past few months had only been a bad dream. Sometimes you came to pick Sarah up early, just to get a few more minutes with him. Sometimes—no, a lot of the time, memories of him came rushing back, cleaving your heart into two, further and further each time.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t let go of the man you spent so many years loving. 

Joel’s eyes still bore into yours. And nothing in the world could have torn you away.

He exhaled slowly, then set down his glass with care. His hand barely brushed yours, but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

“I think about it,” He said softly. “More than I should.”

“Think about what?”

A quiet, almost sad laugh escaped from his throat. He leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“How things used to be.”

“Oh,”

A moment passed, marked only by the metre of your incessant heartbeat pounding in your ears.

And then, “Do you ever miss us?” Joel asked.

You faced him once more. The answer was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Because that was too complicated. Because that would break you.

Joel didn’t need you to say it. He found the answer in your eyes.

All the time.

Instead, you asked, “Do you? Miss us, that is.”

“Of course, I do.” He said softly. “More than you can imagine.”

You held your breath.

Joel heaved a sigh.

“I think about calling,” He added, voice low. “Just to hear your voice.”

“I’d answer,” You said, barely above a whisper.

He smiled in a bittersweet, melancholic sort of way and leaned in just slightly. Unconsciously, you mirrored him.

And then his eyes flickered down to your lips. It was only for a second, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter.

This was dangerous. You should’ve told him to leave ages ago. Or, maybe you should’ve left yourself and gone on your date.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“Can I ask you something stupid?” You whispered.

Joel whispered back, “Always.”

“Do you…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Do I what?”

“Do you—does even a part of you… want what we had back?” 

You knew what he was going to say. You just wanted to hear it for yourself.

And you did.

“Yes,” He admitted earnestly.

You searched his face for any sign of deception, but found none. The only thing in his coffee-brown eyes was regret. And, maybe, something else, too. Something softer.

Your eyes widened. “We fought a lot.”

“We did.”

“And we probably said some shit.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling, as if all the answers were written there. Joel did, too.

His voice came softly, sadly, “We did.”

Silence again. Thick and fragile and charged with so many unspoken words.

Joel’s knee brushed yours, neither of you pulling away. It was nice to have him close, to feel his familiar warmth, to see him—really see him. Bare and raw and vulnerable. No facades of indifference. No hiding behind closed car doors. Just Joel, your Joel, there beside you; soft-eyed and quiet, like maybe he was seeing you, too.

Your fingers twitched on the floor beside his. You wanted to reach for him, but you wanted him to reach first. Absently, you fiddled with your left ring finger, suddenly aware of its bareness.

He looked at you then. Not a glance, but a full turn, slow and deliberate. His dark eyes searched your face, pausing on your mouth, your cheek, your lashes, then settled on your eyes again. He looked at you like you were something he’d spent months trying to forget, and only just now remembered why he couldn’t.

You held your breath.

Joel’s voice, when it finally came, was low, cracked around the edges.

“I know it was bad in the end, but I meant what I said.” He breathed. “I miss us. I miss you.”

Your heart twisted. And there went that cleaver again, slicing further.

“I miss seeing your keys on the kitchen counter and knowing you were home. I miss kissing you before work and smudgin’ your lipstick. I miss watching stupid movies with you that we’d fall asleep to halfway.”

His throat bobbed. He leaned back against the wall, like it hurt to say it out loud.

“Yeah, we fought and said some real mean shit. But God help me, I’d give anything to go back in time and fight for you like I should have. Because you were it for me. You were everything. Still are.”

His eyes glistened as he held your gaze, fierce and unflinching.

“Because, no matter how hard I try to ignore it,” He smiled to himself, shaking his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I love you.”

He loves you.

Those three simple words rang in an echo in your mind. He loves you, he loves you, Joel loves you.

“You love me?” You could barely hear your voice above the deafening thrum of your pulse.

Your faces were barely an inch apart, now. You could smell the familiar scent of his laundry detergent, and traces of his cologne, and wood, and tobacco, and something that was so uniquely him.

Joel nodded.

“I never stopped.” He whispered.

Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance, smashing your lips against his. Joel grunted in surprise, but quickly gave in, exhaling through his nose like he’d been holding a breath in for years. 

He returned the kiss with equal fervour, reaching out to cup your face and pouring all his pent-up emotions against the haven of your lips—longing, relief, desire.

You pushed yourself closer against him. Closer, impossibly closer, until you were straddling his lap, moving against the tent in his jeans, feeling his big hands instinctively settle on your hips, and tasting the Pinot Noir on his lips.

Shit. Was this even a good idea?

You pulled away suddenly. A tiny whine came from Joel, who tried to chase your mouth, but you were insistent.

“Wait,” You panted.

His eyes opened fully. His brows were knitted, his lips were kiss-swollen, and his chest was heaving slowly.

“What?” Joel asked quietly, his thumbs idly tracing circles on either side of your hips.

“This…” You breathed. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I don’t want it to mean nothing.”

Joel smiled softly at your words.

“Means a whole lot to me, sweetheart.” His hand went to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek in his wake. “We can talk about what this means, if you w—”

“Okay, good. Means a lot. Talk after.”

“After?” His eyebrows rose.

“After you fuck me.”

A breathy ‘Jesus Christ’ slipped from his throat, but Joel didn’t spend a second refusing your bold assumption.

With a hand on your nape, he leaned forward to capture your lips in another searing kiss, which you happily accepted, sighing against him.

His big hands then travelled to the back of your thighs, and the next thing you knew, he carelessly swept away whatever was decorating the base of your faucet, and carried you with ease to perch you atop the sink.

“Joel.” You mumbled urgently into his lips.

“Mmm?” He hummed back, not wanting to break your mouths apart for even a second. 

“Might break the sink again.”

“Don’t care. I’ll fuckin’ fix it again, then. Just… need you,” Joel groaned. “Look too fuckin’ good,”

And he pulled away. His half-lidded, cloudy gaze drank you in, sweeping down the snugness of your dress, and lingering on the generous amount of cleavage it revealed. His hands drifted higher and higher up your thighs, until they reached the hemline—dipping under just slightly.

“Too fuckin’ good,” He snarled.

You smirked. Knowing him, he was definitely going to ask if—

“How much was this dress?”

Sighing amusedly, “It wasn’t cheap.”

“How attached are you to it?” He mumbled, a hand reverently skirting up to your hip.

“A moderate amou—”

“Can I rip it off you?”

There it was.

In the many years you were married, Joel shredded more than enough articles of your precious wardrobe in similar heated moments. If you were to count the offences, you’d likely run out of fingers. Your wedding dress had been among the few survivors of his destructive tendencies, though not for lack of trying on his part.

You stifled a snort and shook your head, reaching up to caress his face. 

“No.” You smiled. “Because I’d like to wear it again.”

Joel held your hand against his face and huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “Next time.”

And then his hands found the zipper on your side, pulled it sharply down, and tugged the dress off you.

His eyes darkened.

You had chosen to don an intricate, black, lacey number underneath your dress that teased just enough and only hid the bare minimum. Of course, you had. You hadn’t had an opportunity to wear anything vaguely provocative in ages and were expecting some luck after your date.

You certainly didn’t expect that your ex-husband would be the one seeing it.

“This for him?” Joel’s lip twitched.

Heat rose in your cheeks. “Well, I—”

“Yeah, these don’t get a pass.”

With a sharp tearing noise slicing through the air, Joel ripped the flimsy lacey bra clean in half, watching intently, hungrily, as your tits spilled out.

“Joel!”

“I know, I know,” Joel grunted. “I’ll buy you a new set… buy you all the fuckin’ sets.”

You were about to object, intent on citing the price attached to that particular pair, but Joel had sunk back on his knees and spread your legs apart.

He pressed his lips on your inner thigh, scruff tickling your skin as he slowly, softly trailed his mouth upward, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

His face came to a stop in front of your core, noticing how heavily you were breathing, and his eyes flicked up to yours, smirking. Smug fucking bastard.

“Joel.” You gritted your teeth.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Don’t fucking tease me.” 

And he leaned his forehead against the lower part of your navel, taking a second to breathe in the unmistakable scent of your arousal seeping through your lingerie. 

He was practically salivating, now. 

“I’ll try not to, ma’am.” 

Without another word, he took the lace into his teeth, yanked his head sharply, and tore your panties open.

Confirming his suspicions, you were absolutely soaked. Slick drooled freely out of your puffy folds, taunting him and draining every ounce of self-restraint he had. 

Fuck, you were gorgeous.

“Tell me,” Joel said lowly, meeting your gaze once more as a thick finger swiped lightly through your lips, collecting your arousal. “This for him or me?”

“You.” You breathed without a second thought.

“Louder, sweetheart. My ears ain’t what they used to be.”

“You.”

Smirking wider, “Damn fucking right.”

Then, he happily hitched your legs over his shoulders, leaned forward, and dove in.

His tongue prodded into your heat, dragging down your walls and sending jolts of electricity down your spine. He worked fast and sloppily, sliding through your folds and flicking into your walls, urgently tasting you like he wouldn’t get another chance. 

Your arousal coated the lower half of his face, his eyes were almost black with desire, obscenely wet noises echoed in the silence of the tiled room as his tongue eagerly devoured you whole—

“Fuck, almost forgot how good you taste. So fuckin’ sweet.” Joel mumbled against your sex, entirely, wholly bewitched. “She missed me, too, huh? Just drippin’ for me…”

He continued to furiously lap at your entrance, scruff rubbing against your inner thighs. And then he moved up, planting messy kisses higher and higher until he reached your swollen clit.

You gasped brokenly, flinging a hand to grasp his curls as his lips alternated from pressing messy kisses along your seam to greedily sucking at your bundle of nerves, latching onto it almost desperately.

After a particularly delicious drag down the roof of your core, you rolled your hips up into his mouth and brought him closer to you with your grip in his hair.

“Shit—sorry.” You panted, breathing heavily.

He barely pulled away to look at you.

“Don’t fuckin’ be. I can handle it, you know I can.” Joel all but growled, before returning to attend to your needy fucking pussy.

He was like a man possessed; lapping frenziedly, groaning lowly into your sensitive skin, curved nose swiping through your folds as he worked.

Very soon, a familiar tingle in your lower stomach introduced itself.

“Joel,” You called urgently, attempting to warn him.

He knew you were close. Oh, he knew. So, he went faster and harder, pressing himself further against you, suffocation be fucking damned.

His low, wrecked voice came slurred and slightly muffled by your sex, “Y’gonna come? Go on, baby, all over my face—thaaat’s it.”

A shattered moan escaped from your throat, and you felt your release take over your body almost violently. You couldn’t help the way your legs clamped down around his head, but Joel loved it, letting you smother him and humming happily into your heat as he worked you through your climax, swallowing your release and eating like a man starved.

Finally, he pulled away with a wet squelch, softly pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and gently let your legs down.

And you were immediately greeted with the sight of his lower face shining with your slick.

A good look on him, if you’d say so yourself.

He smiled lazily, eyes blown-out and absolutely fucking pussydrunk. 

“That good for you, sweetheart?” He mused.

“You, Joel Miller, are what we call a munch.” You smiled back.

Pride bloomed across his face. “Gladly, sweets.” 

And you pulled him up by the collar of his flannel shirt into a filthy kiss, tasting your arousal on his lips.

He let his eyes fall shut and reached up to curl a hand around your jaw as he returned the kiss, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Not wasting any time, your hands flew to his belt, blindly fumbling at the leather material to slide it out of the loops of his jeans.

Joel chuckled, leaning forward to trail his lips down your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses.

“Need somethin’, baby?”

“Wanna return the favour,” You glanced down at the bulge in his lap.

“Mm-mm. That was more for me than you. Missed your sweet fuckin’ pussy.” Joel mumbled against your pulse point.

“Munch.” You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel sighed, lifting his head and undoing his jeans just barely enough to pull himself free from his boxers. 

You heard yourself swallow.

Joel Miller was a big man, and you were very aware of that fact. It was written all across his body; from his impossibly broad shoulders, to his beefy arms, to his thick fucking cock.

He stroked himself, once, twice, as his eyes fell to your pulsating, slick core. Beads of precum leaked from his flushed tip and down his length as he did so.

“Spread those legs wider for me, baby. Let me see you,” He breathed lowly.

And you very willingly obliged.

“There’s my girl,” Joel hummed.

With a hand around his base, he guided himself closer to your drooling cunt, nudging his swollen head against you.

Sighing, “Deep breath, baby.”

And he slowly forced himself in, one hand on the small of your back, the other on the underside of your thigh, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he steadily fed you his cock.

You gasped some variant of a plea.

Needless to say, he was a tight fucking fit.

“Takin’ me so well. That’s it, baby, let me in.” He blabbed mindlessly as he continued to sink deeper inside. 

Deeper, deeper, deeper…

He winced. “Shit—there you go.”

When all of him was nested inside your welcoming channel, he let out a gasped expletive at the sensation.

Full. You felt so full with him inside. You always did.

“Fuck, missed this.” Joel panted, resting his forehead against yours. 

You tried to echo the sentiment, but the only thing you were capable of doing was letting out an incoherent groan of his name.

Joel got the message, though.

Maintaining an unhurried tempo, he rolled his hips back and forth, slowly dragging his thickness against your walls, making you painfully aware of every last inch of him.

“How’s that feel, baby?” He mumbled, voice airy.

“Good. Feels so good.”

And, fuck, he did. 

He felt amazing.

His tempo soon picked up, leaving your mouth to fall open as you took every inch of him again and again, stretching you open with enough pleasure to dull the slight pain.

“Tell me,” Joel hummed as he continued to drive ceaselessly in and out of your tight channel, adopting a false lilt of indifference. “Who’s fuckin’ you so good, huh?”

An incoherent syllable slipped from your lips.

“Who, baby?” Joel urged you, unrelenting in his pace. “Sure as hell ain’t fuckin’ Mark.”

Dumbly, you shook your head.

“You, Joel.”

Your words were almost drowned out by the symphony of your own moans, which were accompanied by the obscenely wet slaps that sounded every time his hips fully met yours.

“Louder.” He snarled, punctuating his response with an intentionally rough ram. “Neighbours can’t hear you yet, c’mon.”

“You, Joel!”

Satisfied, his hands went to hold you by your waist, keeping you as still as possible as he drove insistently into you, his tip now kissing your cervix with every thrust.

You cried out at the feeling, nails raking down his back.

Heat pooled in your gut, your vision blurred, a high-pitched ringing almost deafened your ears.

“Joel, Joel, I’m…” You babbled.

“Close? Go on, gorgeous. Let me feel you choke my dick.”

With his blessing, his name left your mouth in a high-pitched scream, and you felt yourself clench around his throbbing length as your orgasm rippled across your body like an earthquake.

Joel, being the overachiever he was, didn’t stop for even a second until your breathing slowed and your eyes fluttered open again.

And, once he saw that you had recovered, he leaned forward to slant his mouth against yours, swallowing your sighs.

“You okay?” He mumbled into the kiss, barely breaking away.

“Yeah.” You exhaled. 

He smiled against your lips.

“Good. Almost there, baby. Gonna take you against the sink, now, and you’re gonna give me one more, how’s that sound?”

You nodded dreamily, feeling him slowly pull out.

He leaned back and, with his hands on your waist, delicately set you down.

“Turn ‘round for me, sweetheart.” 

You acquiesced without hesitation, bracing yourself on the porcelain countertop.

Joel hummed, kicked your legs open even wider, and, not long after, sank the entirety of his cock into you in one deep thrust.

A sharp breath hit the air behind you, and an airy ‘fuck’ followed it. This angle made him feel bigger, if that was even possible.

He didn’t wait long after that. He couldn’t. Overcome with the need to feel you, he started moving. The first thrust was slow. Experimental. The second was hard. The third was harder.

Before you knew it, his big hands found a home on your hips, and he began to drive roughly into you, as if making up for lost time.

He certainly proved he was willing to atone for his absence, thrust after thrust.

“Oh, look at you.” Joel tutted and pulled your hair to tilt your head upwards.

You came face to face with the woman in the bathroom mirror.

Somewhere in between thrusts, your mouth had fallen agape, letting loose a long whine of pleasure, which was stuttered by every slam of his hips against yours.

Your hair was frizzy, your face was flushed, your hooded gaze was flooded with desire, and a light sheen of sweat doused every inch of your skin.

You were a wreck, thanks to the man fucking you so well behind you.

“Eyes up here.” Joel sighed. “Keep ‘em open. Gotta watch how well you take me.”

Joel was even more of a sight. 

The top few buttons of his flannel were undone, his sleeves were haphazardly rolled up, his hair was wild, and the look on his weathered face was nothing short of territorial as he held you to him and fucked you with reckless abandon.

Your eyes fell to where your bodies were connected, hypnotised by how easily his tanned cock disappeared in and out of your puffy cunt.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The corners of his lips were coyly upturned when he cooed, “Don’t we look good, baby?”

You could only respond in broken syllables.

“Yeah,” He grunted. Then, after a particularly forceful thrust, “we do.”

He continued to ram into you, finding your cervix with each thrust, keeping his eyes trained on the mirror, fixated on how your tits bounced so prettily for him.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, jaw tight.

If your brain hadn’t been turned to mush after the two orgasms he forced out of you, you would’ve heard him. But all you were focused on was the rush of another climax approaching.

You gripped the countertop harder and gritted your teeth, feeling warmth collecting in your stomach and bracing yourself for impact.

As if reading your mind, Joel’s hand moved from your hip to your front, trailing down until he brushed your clit, rubbing sloppy semi-cricles and whispering sweet things as you whimpered.

“You gonna give me one more?” He murmured encouragingly, his nose nudging the side of your face.

You could only manage an open-mouthed nod.

His fingers sped in their motions, swiping at your clit feverishly as he continued to rut into you, grazing your cervix each time.

Again. And again. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.” He whispered gently.

Your jaw slackened, your heartbeat quickened, and, in a blinding flash of pleasure, you came with his name on your tongue, helpless to the throes of your climax.

“There you go. Shit… so good for me.” Joel groaned. And then, urgently, “Where—where do you want me to–?”

Not even a full second later, “Inside.” 

“You sure?” He panted, starstruck. 

“I have an IUD, just—please.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he pressed closer, his chest flush against your back, letting you feel every shaky pull of his breath as he caged you in. His hands found yours at the edge of the sink, lacing over them gently. His head dropped beside yours, his forehead nearly touching your temple, and a warm breath fanned across your skin as he sighed. 

And then he resumed his earlier pace.

He rammed into you hard and fast, chasing his own release as if it were a life-or-death situation. And all you could do was take it.

After a dozen more jerky thrusts, his breath caught in his throat and, with a low curse, he came. Hot ropes of his spend spilled inside you, and he rode it out until he couldn’t give you any more, which took a few more lazy rolls of his hips.

His breath evened not long after, warm and steady against your browbone. Soothing, almost.

Gently, he pulled out of you, and you felt his come slowly drip down your thighs.

“Fuck,” He breathed, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, scruff rubbing against your crown as he did so.

And he bowed his head to rest it on the crook of your neck.

“That was great, George.” You panted.

Joel snorted tiredly. “Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

“Nope.”

He huffed out a chuckle.

Then, he languidly pressed a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips could reach—the underside of your jaw, your throat, your neck, and down, still.

A warm, fuzzy sort of feeling radiated from his touch, lulling you into a state of bliss. It felt like love; it felt like coming home.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face.

Joel mumbled something unintelligible against your shoulder.

“What?” You replied, breaking free from your trance.

“I said,” He pulled away and, with two fingers on your chin, tenderly turned your face to look at him. His voice was wrecked and so very earnest when he finally repeated himself. “Don’t send the papers. Please.”

He held the rest of his plea in his eyes in the way they shone with a certain sincerity.

You smiled softly and shook your head. Because you knew you never really had any intention to. Because you wanted to hold on to him. And you were glad he wanted to hold on to you, too.

Your lips found his. Gentle, delicate, a reassurance. He gave in to the kiss almost immediately, sighing into your mouth.

“I won’t.”

And you meant it.

thanks for reading!!! reqs are open, if you wanna send an idea or anything over :)

🏷️: @whaddupbaby, @pedritodowney08, @martuxduckling, @aadhinagony, @lanabobana, @pedr0swh0r3, @romancherry, @strawberriesandhotmen, @streamermattsgf, @bonneyzsk, @worhols, @serendippindots, @paprikainfurs, @lanternnightgarden, @12vamppp, @savvyisss, @umadirectioner, @tinawantstobeadoll, @not-the-teen-witch, @wundagre, @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere, @guelyury, @joelspickle, @callofdiva, @hotnmad, @brightestxxwitch, @pearl-diver-m, @kungfucapslock, @hellokittyyloverrrr, @meganfoxismywife, @natalieispunk, @billionairecowgirl, @my-tearsricochet

[bitters-n-sweets]

take a break pt. 2 — michael "robby" robinavitch x fem!reader Months after Bali, you're finally back in the US, staying with your sister in Pittsburgh. You just have no idea who lives there, too. take a break pt. 1

warnings: cursing, inaccuracies of how the ER works, angst, misunderstanding trope, reader has a sister named Jenna—who gets mildly hurt, not proofread, mentions of miscarriage (not the reader), minors go away, 5.2K words masterlist I am overwhelmed with joy at how the first part of this got so much love, thank you all, I'm so glad you liked it ❤️

"You’re telling me," your sister says, blinking like she’s trying to process it while trying not to get angry, "you spent an entire week with a complete stranger??"

You sigh. Of course she’s going to lose her mind.

"Jenna—"

"What were you thinking???" She’s pacing now.

You roll your eyes. "Look, I know how it sounds, okay? But it wasn’t like that."

She stops, arms crossed, and gives you a pointed look.

"I’m serious. What happened in Bali… it was different. I’ve never met anyone like him."

Jenna takes a deep breath a few times and sits beside you. The sharp voice softens. "I just don’t want you to get hurt again."

"Too late," you murmur with a bitter smile.

She sighs and pulls you into a hug. "Of course it is."

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Your phone sits on the table, still open from showing her a photo of you and Robby, sun-kissed and smiling. Jenna squints at it.

"Well," she says, "he is stupid handsome. Those sad-boy eyes? Come on."

You let out a laugh, some of the tension slipping from your shoulders.

"And he’s a doctor?" she adds, scoffing. "Girl."

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. She’s trying.

After months of traveling, your lease ended, so you're staying at her place in Pittsburgh for now, just until you find a new apartment. Your sister's been your rock since you were kids. If anyone bullied you, or if you needed any help with friends, math, you name it, and she'll be there for you. She's the most reliable big sister you could ever have, so you don't blame her for trying to protect you.

She's also trying to balance being the protective sister, and the fun one. It doesn't always work.

"So what’s stopping you from looking him up?" Jenna asks suddenly.

You hesitate.

"He’s one Google search away," she nudges. "Don’t even lie."

You suck in a breath. "I know. I just… what if I find out he’s moved on? What if it really was just a vacation fling for him? And what if he lives in New York or something? I mean, we didn't reveal our hometowns for a reason. We could've easily shared our phone numbers, but we didn't."

Jenna frowns. "Okay, first of all? If everything you told me is true—and judging by those photos and the way you talk about him—it wasn’t just a fling. And second, so what if he’s in New York? That’s like a 90-minute flight. You work remotely. Things could actually work out."

You don’t say anything right away. You just look down at your hands and bite your cheek, the way you do when you’re unsure. Jenna bumps your shoulder gently.

She adds, "Look, I’m not saying go camp outside his hospital with huge cards, Love Actually style. But you should at least give yourself the chance to find out. What if he’s been thinking the same thing all this time?"

You barely say anything before Jenna snatches your phone off the coffee table.

"Wait—Jenna, no!"

She's already typing.

"Just a little digging," she says, her fingers working fast on your phone.

You lunge for the phone, but she twists away, standing up. "Give it back!"

"Nope, you had your chance and you blew it. Plus, you know you won't actually do this. I'm doing you a favor."

"Jenna, I’m serious—"

"Aha!" She exclaims, stopping in her tracks. "Michael Robinavitch, MD. Trauma Attending at—"

Your eyes are wide as you stare at Jenna. Her face shifts. Something unreadable—then disbelief. She scoffs and meets your eyes. "You're not gonna believe me."

Robby sighs as he slides through the ER doors once again. Like yesterday, like the day before, like how it will be for the rest of his life, probably. Dana's already at the nurse's station, looking at the board, phone in hand.

"You know, every day you walk in here, and you look even more like shit." Dana frowns. "I thought you just had a vacation, you’re supposed to look refreshed, not like you got dumped in the ocean and left for dead."

Robby huffs. "Well, good morning to you, too, Dana."

And then something in Dana clicks. "Oh my God. You got dumped in Bali."

He lets out a dry laugh. "I didn't get dumped in Bali. I just…"

"Wait, did you dump someone in Bali?"

"Can we not do this here?"

"I mean… I just expected you to come back tanned and smug, not pining like some sad indie drama lead." Dana lets out a little laugh at her own joke.

Robby exhales slowly, a tight smile on his lips. "It was a vacation. Nothing more."

Oh but it was so so much more. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you. Let’s just get that out of the way. Your laugh, your perfume, the way you fell asleep on his chest like you were meant to be there. He swears he still smells you sometimes, and it’s driving him insane. He’s off his game at work, can’t sleep at home, can’t eat without thinking of the dinners you shared by candlelight and crashing waves. So yeah—he looks like shit. Forgive the middle-aged man for wearing his heartbreak on his face.

"What's her full name?"

Robby pauses. "What?"

Jack shrugs like it’s the most casual thing in the world. "I know you keep checking the board for any new incoming traumas to see if it could be her." Jack continues, "You feel guilty for it, but you're still doing it. So tell me her name—I’ll keep an eye out on nights."

Jack knows it's a way to ease Robby, even just for a little bit.

Robby presses his palms to his eyes, just for a second. Long enough to see your face behind his lids, then mutters your name. He doesn’t want to see you on a stretcher. God, no. He doesn’t want to see you bleeding, unconscious, coding. He hopes you never have a reason to come through those ER injured, ever.

But the truth is, the ER is where estranged people meet. And though he hates himself for it, a small part of him still hopes one day you’ll walk through that door again—alive, healthy, maybe even smiling.

"Okay." Jack nods, then smirks. "How about a picture?"

"Jack." Robby warns.

"Backing down, backing down," Jack raises his hands in surrender, "Just testing the waters."

"She must've been something, huh?" He adds, "You haven't stopped thinking about her, and it's been months. You might be really screwed, brother."

Robby doesn't say anything. He knows.

[flashback]

You're both soaked.

It started with a walk along the beach. Then a splash. Then a challenge. Now you're standing in the shallows, dripping wet, and Robby is grinning like an idiot because he 'won'.

"You cheated! You said you wouldn’t grab me!"

He shrugs. "I said I wouldn’t splash you. Technically, dragging you into the water doesn’t count."

"You’re impossible."

"You're slow."

You gasp and lunge toward him, but he takes off running down the beach like a damn teenager. You chase after him, heart pounding, laughing so hard it burns. Eventually, he slows just enough for you to catch him, and you both tumble into the sand.

"I should’ve let the jellyfish have you," You pant.

"I think you'd miss me too much."

You roll your eyes. "You’re so full of yourself."

His voice drops just enough to make your pulse skip. "Am I wrong?"

Then he leans in and kisses you, slow and smiling, like he knows he’s already won. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his.

"You're the worst."

"Then you've got terrible taste."

[present day]

You linger outside the sliding glass doors for longer than you’d like to admit.

You'd gotten the same rosé you both shared in Bali, with a nice bow wrapped around the neck, and a letter you'd hand-written. It's very cliché, but it felt necessary. And now you feel stupid.

Fuck it.

Part of you is excited to see him, see his reaction, would he run to you? Hold you in his arms? Kiss you right there in front of everyone?

You're smiling nervously now as you walk past the doors. The emergency room at PTMC is busier than you expected, the front desk doesn’t pay you much attention, which is good, they're probably thinking you're visiting with what you have in hand. You’re not sure what you would’ve said anyway.

You ask quietly where to find him. They point you toward the consult rooms, and you murmur a quick thank-you, the gift bag tucked at your side.

You spot him almost immediately through the narrow strip of glass in the door to Consult Room A.

Your heart stops.

Robby is inside. He’s really here. Still tall, still impossibly handsome, and especially in his scrubs, exhaustion clinging to the curve of his shoulders. You almost burst through the door—when you realize he's not alone.

Another doctor is sitting on the exam bed, bent slightly forward, elbows on her knees, one hand cradling her stomach. Her eyes are red. Robby kneels beside her, not quite touching her at first—then gently, cautiously, he places his hand on her knee. She covers it with her own.

He says something you can’t hear. She nods. And then, quietly, she leans forward and presses her forehead to his, smiling, tears in her eyes.

You freeze.

All the warmth in your limbs rushes away. You feel like someone's just completely taken your lungs away and you can't breathe.

You recognize her—Dr. Collins. You’ve seen her on the PTMC staff page, probably one of the first names you found when you searched for Robby.

You take a step back, slowly, like you might disturb the moment if you're not careful. Then another.

It seems like Robby has moved on.

You're not sure what to do. You feel fucking stupid. Of course, he has moved on. It was just a fling, nothing more. Tears blur your vision as you take short breaths, the rosé now clutched tightly to your chest, and you hurrily walk back down the hall. You don't want him to see you. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Collins exhales shakily, then squeezes his hand one last time before standing.

"I'll be fine." she says, voice hoarse but steady.

"You sure?"

She gives him a small smile. "Yeah. Go save someone who’s actually dying."

He watches her walk out, her back straight even though her world just cracked in half. They’ve been through a lot, he and Collins. It was never romantic—not really—but there were late nights and shared griefs. A handful of near-misses. People who endure together sometimes blur lines. But whatever they were, that part’s long behind them.

A nurse knocks gently on the doorframe. "Dr. Robby?"

"Yeah?"

"There was someone here asking for you," she says, "I told her you'd be out in a minute but I think she left. She didn't leave a name, she had a gift bag with her though."

Robby blinks. "Okay, thanks."

People drop off things sometimes. A patient’s family, a resident trying to get on his good side, a pharmaceutical rep hoping to buy his time. He doesn’t think too hard about it. He heads back out into the chaos of the ER, unaware of the gift that nearly reached him—or the woman who had.

[flashback]

"So what happens after you leave?"

Robby doesn't answer right away. He drags a finger through the sand. "Get on a plane, go home, back to work."

"You know that's not what I mean."

He sighs. "I know."

You wait and Robby finally meets your eyes. "I don't want to ruin this."

"This." You repeat. "This… fantasy? Or us?"

His jaw shifts slightly, he’s trying to choose his words carefully. "I mean the part where I don’t have to think about how complicated this would get if we tried to keep it going."

You nod, lips tight. "Right." Complicated.

"I'm not saying I don't want this. Us." He says quickly, "I just... I don’t know how."

You know he's right. It just hurts to hear it. "Yeah… me neither."

You glance up, and there’s a long, quiet look between you. "So, let’s not make promises we can’t keep?"

Robby nods, but his hand finds yours in the sand. And he doesn't let go.

[present day]

You've been sitting in your parked car for ten minutes after leaving the entrance.

Your hands still tremble a little.

You’d come here with hope burning in your chest, you ignored all of the doubts because you wanted to believe what you had with Robby was real. Because maybe despite not sharing phone numbers, there was something there. You hoped he also regretted not continuing what you had. But seeing Robby with her, the way he touched her, the softness in his expression… it had knocked the wind out of you.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to throw the gift away—or bring it home. Or the letter. So you decide to rewrite the letter. As a goodbye. You slip it inside the gift bag and get out of the car.

This time, you don’t go to the front entrance. You spot a woman smoking near the ambulance bay, leaning against the wall like she’s on break.

You approach her quietly.

"Hi. Sorry to bother you—do you work in the ER?"

She squints through the smoke, "Yeah, why?"

"I, uh, could you give this to Dr. Robby? I…have an errand to run, so, I can't give it to him myself." You offer her the gift bag.

She eyes the gift bag warily. "You trying to sell him something?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I just want to thank him. For everything he's done for me." You hesitate. "You can tell him it's from Ove."

She hesitates, then shrugs, taking the gift bag. "Yeah, sure."

You just offer a small, grateful smile. "Thanks."

Robby's sitting on his desk, busy charting, when Dana drops a gift bag in front of him.

"And this is…?"

"Rosé delivery, apparently." Dana chuckles. "Someone wanted to thank you, so she told me to give you this. Said it's from 'Ove'."

His heart stops. He snatches the bag like it might vanish, scanning the pink-gold bottle, the smooth ribbon, the familiar handwriting he could recognize anywhere.

You were here.

He bolts.

"Wait—" Dana calls behind him, "There's—!"

But Robby’s already sprinting down the hallway, dodging a gurney, ignoring the startled nurse who calls his name.

He jogs a little down the street, scanning every face. A couple arguing near the bus stop. A woman in scrubs checking her phone. But not you. His breath fogs in the cold air, and something in his chest twists painfully.

He missed you.

"Fuck." He keeps repeating, "FUCK!"

"Robby!"

He turns at Dana’s voice.

She’s outside now, waving something in her hand. "She left a letter."

Hi Robby, I'm sorry I didn't give you this letter and gift myself. I know it probably seems cowardly to leave a letter like this instead of talking to you face to face, but honestly… I don’t think I could’ve done that without crying. Or jumping into your arms. Or kissing you… Or all of it. There’s so much I wanted to say, but maybe this will have to be enough. I’m happy you’ve found someone who makes you happy. I really am. I hope she’s good to you. I hope she sees what I see in you—your terrible jokes, your gentleness, the way you care too much and try to hide it. I hope she knows how lucky she is. Take care of yourself, doc. And thank you for all the memories. You deserve someone who makes coming home feel like peace. – Ove

Robby reads the letter once. Then again.

He’s standing in the hallway outside the break room, half-shielded by the open door, fingers curling around the page like it might explain itself differently on the third read.

You were here. At the hospital. He missed you.

His eyes skim the line again—the one about how you couldn’t face him without crying, or kissing him. Jumping into his arms. His heart clenches. It’s so you. Honest. Brave and terrified at once.

Then he hits the sentence that makes him stop cold.

I’m happy that you’ve found someone who can make you happy.

His brow furrows. Found someone?

He glances up like the hallway might have an answer. What are you talking about? There’s no one. There hasn’t been anyone. Not really. Just that moment with Collins—but even that... that wasn’t what you think.

His chest tightens. You thought he was with someone. That he moved on.

You thought he was happy.

He leans back against the wall, one hand dragging down his face. A deep exhale pushes from his lungs, but it doesn’t take the ache with it.

"Ove," he says aloud, the name barely a breath.

He lets out a quiet laugh, one that almost breaks halfway through. Of course you'd sign it like that.

Now you're leaving him rosé and a goodbye that read like a love letter sealed in regret.

His chest tightens. There's a stinging behind his eyes he doesn't want to name.

Dana watches him from the nurses’ station, saying nothing. She doesn’t need to. Robby just shakes his head, pressing his lips together.

"She was here," he says again, like he still doesn’t believe it.

"Yeah," Dana replies softly, looking at him sympathetically. "She was."

The letter is still in his hand. He folds it carefully, like it's something sacred. Then he tucks it into his jacket pocket and takes a breath.

He should have been faster.

He should have found you.

But now… now all he can do is stand here, holding the words you couldn't say out loud.

A few days after that, you're back to apartment hunting. Somewhere outside of Pittsburgh. You haven't told your sister, but you have a feeling she knows. She's been quiet in that careful way, watching you drift through nights of old movies and whiskey. Not rosé—never rosé. That would taste too much like him.

You're on the couch, laptop warming your thighs, when you suddenly hear a scream from the kitchen.

"Jenna!" You scramble.

Jenna had bought one of those aesthetic looking pots made of glass, and of course it shattered. Another sound—glass crunching, followed by a strangled yelp. You race in to find her on the floor, clutching her arm, shards of her new glass pot glittering across the tile. She must’ve slipped. Her forearm is red, swelling fast.

"I'm okay—" She groans and winces, "Okay, OW OW OW—No, I'm not okay."

You turn off the stove, moving quickly to help her up, careful not to step on the glass. "Let's get you to the hospital. I'll get a cab."

She’s quiet in the ride over, cradling her arm, the towel now damp from melted ice.

"I'm so stupid." She hisses. "It's not even that bad, it just hurts."

"You're not stupid," You say, "But it looks pretty bad. The glass shattered everywhere. You're lucky it didn't cut you anywhere else."

She lets out a breath that sounds more like a groan, then presses her head back against the seat.

"Are you sure you want to come?" She asks after a beat, always worrying about you first. "We're going to that ER. After everything that happened…"

You glance out the window, swallowing down the familiar ache that tightens in your chest at just the mention of it.

"Jenna." You cut her off gently. "None of that matters right now. You’re hurt. We’re going."

She bites her cheek, clearly reading more in your silence than you want her to. But she just nods. "Okay."

It's not that late yet, and the ER is still as busy as ever. Due to the level of Jenna's injury, you get in fast. You push through the double doors with Jenna leaning on your side, her towel-wrapped arm clutched to her chest. You follow the nurse down the familiar hall, heart tightening with every step, and help Jenna settle into a curtained bay. She gives you a strained smile, trying to act tough, but she looks worried.

"I'll go get a doctor for you, it'll be quick." the nurse says.

You sit on the edge of the plastic chair, elbows on your knees, trying not to breathe too deep.

Then the curtain rustles. "Okay, let's see who we have here."

You look up and freeze—just for a second—until you realize it’s not Robby. You exhale quietly, chest unclenching. "You're Jenna?" the doctor asks, flipping through the chart.

Your sister nods.

The doctor nods back, "I'm Dr. Abbot, and this is…" He motions to you.

"My sister," Jenna says, giving your name. 

That’s when you see it—Dr. Abbot's face changes. He repeats your full name under his breath, eyes narrowing like he’s connecting dots in real time.

Something clicks in his head. Then, without another word, he steps back. "I'll be right back." He’s gone before either of you can ask anything.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Robby!"

Jack whisper-screams down the hall, catching Robby just as he’s about to exit through the staff doors. Robby slows, eyebrows raised in surprise as Jack jogs up to him.

"Jack, I really just—"

"She's here."

Robby stops mid-step.

"She was," he corrects slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "a few days ago. I couldn't catch her—"

"No, Robby." Jack cuts in, breathless. "She's here now. With her sister. Bay 5."

Robby's eyes go wide. "…A-are you sure? Wait, is she okay??"

"Well I mean you wouldn't show me a picture of her so—"

"Jack—"

"Right." Jack says, "She’s fine, she’s accompanying her sister. Just stay in the consult room. I'll bring her over, tell her she can wait there."

Robby feels like his world is spinning again. He doesn't want to get his hopes up. He still has your letter tucked in his jacket pocket.

He nods nervously. "Okay."

You’re still staring at the curtain, blinking like maybe it’ll open again and explain whatever just happened. But it stays closed. Jenna glances at you, then at her arm, and mutters, "Well, that was weird."

"Yeah." You frown.

You’re still thinking about the way the doctor said your name like he recognized it—like it meant something. Before you can say anything else, the curtain swishes again. Dr. Abbot reappears, breathless, like he’s jogged half the ER to get back. "Um, do you mind waiting in the consult room? There's… not a lot of space here, so…"

It's an odd request, but Jenna says she's okay, so you reluctantly go with the nurse who'll show you where the consult room is.

As soon as you’re gone, Jenna raises an eyebrow at Dr. Abbot. He’s still standing there, watching the curtain fall closed behind you like it just told him a secret.

"…Do you know something?" She asks. Vague, suggesting.

Dr. Abbot turns slowly and squints at her. "I don't know. Do you know something?"

Jenna tilts her head. "I might."

He tilts his head back at her. "Then I might too."

The nurse doesn’t say much. Just a polite smile and a gentle hand on your back as she guides you down the hallway.

You pass a few curtain bays, a trauma room, and then she stops at a door with Consult Room B printed in small white letters.

"Just wait in here," she says gently.

"Wait for—"

"—OK." But the door closes before you can finish the question. You blink. Turn. And that’s when you see him.

Robby.

He’s standing at the far end of the room, one hand braced on the counter like he might be holding himself up. He's still in his scrubs, navy jacket with his sleeves rolled up, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

You freeze. He sees you.

For a second, neither of you speak. Neither of you even breathe.

Robby braves himself to step closer to you.

"Robby," you finally say, voice barely more than a whisper. You swallow, shifting your weight, arms folded like a shield. "I didn't know—the nurse just told me to—"

You break eye contact and step back as he steps closer. You can't look in his eyes, because you know you'll break. You're already fighting the tears that are about to fall.

He watches you for a moment, trying to find his voice. "You okay?"

You nod. "Jenna—my sister—she burned her arm. Slipped on glass. I just… went into autopilot."

He steps closer again, slower this time. "Is she alright?"

"Yeah. She’ll be fine." You bite your lip, still not looking at him.

"You left me a bottle of rosé," he says, gently, still stepping closer. "And a name."

You try to smile. "I thought you’d figure it out."

"I did," he says, now only inches away from you, "and then I read the letter."

Your breath hitches, just slightly. There’s a pause as you nod, your hands tighten over your elbows, fingers pressing into your sleeves. "Right."

"Are you ever going to look at me?"

You try to hide the sob escaping you and back away a little, but Robby reaches out, placing both hands gently to cup your face, brushing away your tears. You finally meet his eyes, and the sight wrecks you.

Why is he crying?

He steps closer, trapping you within his frame, and leans in. His lips press gently to yours, careful—as if asking permission, checking if you still want this, if you still want him. Your hands clutch his scrubs, holding on like a lifeline.

You pull away first. "This is wrong." You whisper.

Robby’s brows knit together in confusion until he sees the guilt in your eyes. You think he's with Collins.

"You…" You sniff, "You're happy, Robby. You—You can't ruin it."

"Look at me," His voice is firm, "Do I look happy to you?"

"I—"

"I'm not with Collins."

You look at him. "What?"

"The woman you saw with me a few days go," Robby says carefully, "she had a miscarriage. I was just… trying to be there for her."

You stare at him, breath caught. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Then, quietly, "Oh."

You look down, heart thudding, face hot with shame. You want to disappear into the floor, you feel even more stupid now.

He asks, a little broken. "You really thought I'd move on that fast?"

You shake your head, blinking fast. "I didn't know what to think. I thought maybe it wasn’t as real for you as it was for me."

"And what? Were you just going to leave?" He frowns. "You weren't even gonna let me say goodbye. Not even one last look at you."

You shake your head, eyes glossy. "I thought it would be easier on you," you whisper. "Like Bali."

Robby's expression shatters. "That was not easy on me."

"You left before I woke up."

"I thought you wanted me to." His voice catches. "You were quiet that whole last day. I figured you didn’t want me to make it harder."

"Because I didn't want to say goodbye!" You cry out, "I didn't want it to end. But I got scared, because what if you don't like the version of me outside of Bali? Because Bali was good, so good, and back here—" you sob, "—back here I'm not as confident. I'm nobody. I'm a mess."

Robby's heart breaks a little. He sees you, truly sees you, and realizes the irony: that’s exactly how he feels.

"You think I don’t get that? You think Bali wasn’t the first time in years I felt like myself again?" He swallows hard. "I was afraid, too. Afraid I’d already messed it up. Afraid if I said goodbye, it would feel real. Final."

You close your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek.

"You’re not nobody," he says, softer now. "You're the person who saw me when I was at my lowest. Who laughed so hard on that motorbike I thought I'd crash us into a rice field. Who made me believe I could want more than just work and sleep and going through the motions. Whose letter I still keep in my pocket. You're the person who lent me your book."

You chuckle at that, still sniffing.

He cups your cheek again, thumb brushing away the tears you’ve stopped trying to hide.

"And you don’t have to be confident all the time," he murmurs. "You don’t have to be the Bali version of you. I want you. All versions of you."

You try not to cry again, nodding your head. "…I want you, too."

He exhales—like he’s been holding his breath for days—and his forehead presses to yours, gentle and grounding. "I'm no picnic, either. I overthink everything. I push people away when I should let them in. I’ve spent most of my life trying to act like nothing gets to me."

"But you do." His thumb brushes under your eye. "You got to me."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"The worst." He smiles a little.

"Then you've got horrible taste."

He chuckles. "I believe what I said was 'terrible' not 'horrible'."

You share a laugh and there's a long, quiet pause. You’re both holding your breath, holding each other like the other person could disappear, like this might be a dream.

"Robby…" you murmur.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to make promises this time?" You ask, hopeful once again. "Ones we'll try our best to keep?"

He smiles. "Yeah. I do."

He leans in again, brushing his lips over yours. Your fingers tangle in the navy fabric of his hoodie, like you're scared he’ll vanish. But he doesn’t. He just holds you tighter, steadier. And it’s everything you’ve been aching for. No longer a memory of Bali. No longer a what-if. Just you and him.

You take Robby’s hand gently and guide him towards where Jenna is to introduce them. You thought she'd be asleep, but you hear chatter from behind the curtain. When you swing it open—you see her and Jack, gossiping like two teenagers, her wounds wrapped up long ago.

"Oh hey~ We were just talking about you two," Jenna smirks, "So, Dr. Abbot, how long did you say Dr. Robby here has been broody?"

"Well, I think since birth, really, but he became worse after leaving Bali."

You roll your eyes and glance at Robby, who's blushing like a tomato now. You try to soothe him, while Jack and Jenna share a subtle fist bump, quietly whispering to each other.

"We did that."

"Hell yeah we did."

--

hope you guys like it! side note, lowkey loving Jack and Jenna's interaction and thank you to all of you in the taglist for being so excited for this 🥰 ily, and im so sorry if i missed anyone, it is really not on purpose. I hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @biggestsimponhere @thesnugglingduck @qardasngan @lol-im-done @daisydark @onlyrealjoy @sabrinaselina55 @borbalalikesdocs @livingavilaloca @evans-dejong @thinemineours @marvelousmissmaggie @maiamore @hagarsays @evermoresivy @capj-1437 @beebeechaos @obfuscateyummy @omgbrianab @honestlystop @jazzimac1967 @msdariaknight @cozyfanficnook @wowitsafemale @princessjayll @heyysolsister @mcuwhore7 @1mverstappen @aryacoulson @the-one-with-the-grey-color @ravenouswild @littlezee80 @gardeniarose13 @bitchy-bi-trash @breemary05-blog @arrowswithwifi

[norrisprincess]

Not Another Fangirl

summary: After being a fan of the McLaren team, you got some tickets sponsored by McLaren and, to your not-so-great surprise, you met Lando Norris, and maybe you two will end up having more than a fan/racer relationship.

Lando Norris x Fan!Influencer!Reader

author note: I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes. English isn't my first language, and I used Google Translate for some things! If you find anything I need to improve, don't hesitate to let me know!

It was a hot day in the paddock, still, your steps were quick and excited since after making posts on instagram supporting the McLaren team for several months you finally had gotten a paddock club pass —sponsored by McLaren— for the F1 race.

After walking for several minutes, one of the McLaren team managers started giving you a short tour of the garage talking about how happy they were because of the wins they had this season ,and then, you saw him, Lando Norris, THE Lando Norris, you had to blink twice to make sure it wasn't some kind of dream but it was real, he was real. Your eyes looked at him but in that same instant The McLaren manager started to talk about the plans they had for this weekend race and you lost sight of him as quickly as you had seen him.

You sighed a little and the manager noticed because at that very moment she changed the subject.

“By the way, I've seen your posts on Instagram and I see that you're a big fan not only of the team but also of...someone...someone named Lando”

You blushed a little and started laughing nervously while shaking your hands a little.

“Don’t say that! Im just another fangirl!”

“Yeah, sure.” she said before letting out a giggle and leading you a little deeper into the garage.

“So it's okay if I introduce you in person to them right? Since you're just another fangirl.”

She said, and started dragging you until she reached a room where Oscar and Lando were sitting, chatting a little. They laid their eyes on you in the moment you entered the room.

“Hey Saski, who is she?”

Oscar said slowly His tone of voice was soft —still the confusion was noticeable in his voice. Then he started to look you and then to look Saskia.

“She's a fan who wanted to meet you guys! She got nervous as soon as I mentioned introducing you in person. She’s so cute, isn't she?”

Lando was the first to get up from his seat and take your hand to shake it a little making your face turn in a bright red making him smile a little before introducing himself.

“Well hello there, Im Lando, Lando Norris, but I guess that, if you are here it’s because you already know me and Oscar, don’t ya?”

He said in a tone that was somewhere between mocking, kind and maybe a little flirtatious, which made you smile inevitably.

“yes Im..Im a big fan of you guys.”

Saskia smiled a little before her phone rang and she picked it up to see who it was and immediately She looked at you three.

“Im sorry guys, I really need to take this call…but, I will let her at your care! I will be back soon, promisse!”

She said and left the room leaving you alone in that room with Oscar and Lando.

There was a brief silence before Oscar decided to open his mouth.

“so…what’s your name?”

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Y/NLaren ✓

Liked by oscarpiastri, lando, and 772,809 others Y/NLaren ✓ Best.Day.Of.My.Life 🏎️🧡

comments 641,930

user1 OMG SHE DID IT! MY BABY MEET LANDO 💖💕

lando it was fun 😝 ♥︎ liked by the author

user2 So proud! 🎊

user3 omg you look so pretty!

user4 LET’S GOOOOO 🗣️🔥

oscarpiastri best day fr! ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ user5 OSCAR AND LANDO ARE HERE!

user6 They grow up so fast 🤧🥺

user7 GO GIRL!!!!!!

───────── 🧡 ─────────

It had been a week since you met Lando and Oscar. Today had been a very busy day, and you needed a break, so you layed down on your bed.

You placed your phone down and rested it on your chest with a small smile before a notification appeared on your home screen.

It was a message from an unknown number, but you decided to see who it was just in case it was a friend of yours from a new number.

You smiled before turning off your phone and leaving it on your nightstand, you covered yourself with your sheets and went to sleep immediately while you felt your heart almost jump out of your chest.

───────── 🧡 ─────────

The next morning arrived, and you were awake even before the alarm clock, you were furtively looking in your closet for something to wear since a special day deserved a special outfit.

Your hands moved quickly through the clothes you had, you were looking for something that would make Lando have his jaw on the floor as soon as he saw you.

You sighed and were going to close the closet, but before that, a box in the deepest part of your closet caught your attention, making you open it again to take that box wrapped in pink paper, that paper soft to the touch and it seemed like that box had never been opened.

You opened the box only to find a dress that you had bought a few months ago but hadn't worn since you felt it wasn't what you were looking for at that specific moment, and here you were, thanking all the gods that you hadn't worn it since thanks to that the dress looked like new.

You placed the dress on the bed along with a small purse before skipping to the bathroom. Tonight would be perfect.

───────── 🧡 ─────────

“Hairstyle? Done..Makeup? Done..Are I missing something?..”

You were pacing around the room, putting the finishing touches on your look until you heard the doorbell ring and quickly moved towards the front door.

You opened the door only to find Lando holding a bouquet of flowers, a little blushing.

“hi lando!”

“Heyy y/n, are you—wow…you look..fantastic”

Lando said a little dumbfounded before shaking his head a little.

“these are for you”

He handed you the flowers, they were white tulips, they were beautiful, you took them in your hands before looking into his eyes with a slight blush that was hidden thanks to the blush you were wearing.

“Thank you Lando..They are really beautiful”

You said and entered your house to place the flowers in a vase with water.

“are you ready?”

Lando asked, watching you return to the front door with your handbag.

“For you? Always”

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Y/NLaren ✓

Liked by lando, and 642,989 others

Y/NLaren ✓ Thanks for this day 💕 @ lando

comments 230,563

lando thank YOU for comming ❤️ ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ user8 OMGG

↳ user9 y/n is going to be the next f1 wag 🤭🫢

↳ user10 SO TRUE 🎉🔥

user11 YOU GUYS LOOK SO CUTE TOGETHER ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ lando ofc we look cute together 😉 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ Y/NLaren 🥰

user12 LANDO AND Y/N 💍

user13 couple material 🙊

↳ user14 true

user15 I love your dress!! 👗 ♥︎ liked by the author

user16 pretty

user17 Im so happy for the both of you ❣️

───────── 🧡 ─────────

The sun came through the curtains of your dorm and rested on your face, it felt pretty warm in your skin.

The birds were singing and there was finally a moment of peace after a few stressful weeks.

You shifted a little in the bed only to feel large hands on your waist causing you to jump a little and sit quickly on the bed.

“What—Lando?!”

You leaned against the headboard watching Lando rub his eyes and yawn.

“good morning”

He said in his sleepy voice which made your heart beat a little faster and your cheeks to turn red before you shook your head a little and spoke again.

“no..this can’t be happening I-”

“hey..it’s ok”

Lando said as he got up a little and he sat next to you in the bed.

“Look, I know this can be really sudden for you and I know that we’ve know each other for just a few months, but please, I really want you to give me a chance. You've changed my life in ways no one else has in years in a short period of time. Please, I want you to give me a chance, I just need one chance to prove you I’m enough and to prove you how much you mean to me.”

You looked into Lando's eyes before sighing a little and looking away.

“Lando...I...I need time..this is sudden and beside I really like you I still need time to think about this…you didn’t make anything wrong to prove me you’re enough because I already know you are…I just need to think this a few more days ok?”

Lando looked at you and nodded, he took your hand and caressed it a little before getting out of bed and putting on his clothes and shoes.

He looked at you a last time before opening your dorm door and going out.

───────── 🧡 ─────────

The days passed and your ideas were still not clear, you had nothing sure, the only thing you could be sure of was that you liked Lando, but you knew you needed those days to think clearly, the simple fact that you liked him did not mean that you should accept him immediately without thinking about it first.

Your hands nervously played with the cover of your cell phone before, with trembling and slightly sweaty hands, you decided to enter Lando's chat after having hesitated for at least an hour or two.

You wrote and deleted the message over and over again, you didn't know what to say or how to start, you wanted to get straight to the point but you didn't feel that it was a topic that you two should talk about via chat or a call.

You took a deep breath and moved a few strands of hair behind your ear as you anxiously bit your lip.

Your gaze wandered for a moment to the flowers Lando had given you on your first date, some tulips were already wilted but still looked beautiful while the light of the setting sun softly illuminated them.

Your gaze returned to your phone. You had already made a decision and you had to stand firm. You knew that decision would have consequences, but what did it matter? Nothing mattered the instant your fingers touched the screen before you finally sent the message you had been tormenting yourself for all these days.

“Lando, we need to talk”

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Y/NLaren ✓

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, mclaren and 899,790 others

Y/NLaren ✓ After a few weeks, conversations, and mutual understanding, we've begun a journey together. Something I never expected was to end with you. You gave me the best days of my life, and you promised to keep doing so. I also want to promise you something: my love and eternal loyalty. I love you forever. 💖 @ lando

comments 4

lando I love you too ❤️😻 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ Y/NLaren mwah 🫶🏼

oscarpiastri congrats 🥳 ♥︎ liked by the author

mclaren 🧡🖤 ♥︎ liked by the author

The author of this post has limited comments

───────── 🧡 ─────────

lando ✓

Liked by Y/NLaren, oscarpiastri, mclaren and 946,400 others

lando ✓ Thank you for giving me a chance. I promise to be here for you through the good times and the bad times too, no matter what. You're like the blue of my sky, and with you, I feel complete. I love you. I know We have a long road ahead of us of good things and bad things, but, together we can overcome it, because at the end of the day you are not another fangirl, your are my girl. 💐🧡 @ Y/NLaren

comments 3

Y/NLaren 💓 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ lando I love you 😘

↳ Y/NLaren I love you too 🥰 ♥︎ liked by the author

The author of this post has limited comments

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Taglist!:

no one for the moment 👎🏼

[writingouthere]

exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.

cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.

Your date was a disappointment.

The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.

"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.

"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.

Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.

Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm her boyfriend."

Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.

Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.

"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.

"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't even meet him."

"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"

You hated that he knew you so well.

"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.

"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."

"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.

"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."

"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.

"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.

"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.

"Where can we talk then?"

"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.

"Then let's go home."

"You mean to your home."

Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.

You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.

"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.

You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.

"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"

"Princess-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.

"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"

"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."

You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.

"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."

"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.

They taste like cherry chapstick.

His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.

His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.

Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.

"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.

"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.

"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.

"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.

"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."

You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.

"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."

The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.

You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.

Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.

Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?

No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.

"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.

The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.

Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.

"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."

"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.

"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.

"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"

"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."

You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."

Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.

For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.

You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.

"Alright, come then, you've earned it."

With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.

Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.

"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.

Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.

"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."

"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.

You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."

When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.

You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.

"Cozy."

"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.

"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."

The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."

"I did."

He looks at you. "Why?"

"You know why," you say, tired again.

"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."

"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."

"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.

"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"

"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.

"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."

"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"

"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."

There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.

Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."

"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."

"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."

"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."

"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.

"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."

"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."

You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.

"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."

Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."

"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."

You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.

"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."

"That's asking for a lot from a guy."

"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.

"Bye, Sukuna."

Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.

He leaves without another word.

When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.

----------

It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.

The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?

"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.

"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."

"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.

You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.

"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.

"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."

You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess. Bad time?"

"No, just, what do you want?"

"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."

You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?

"What do you want to say?"

"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."

"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.

"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."

You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.

"Uh huh."

"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."

"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.

"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."

"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"

"Why do you talk like such a brat?"

"You know-"

"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.

"So when is this date?"

"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."

"Are you fucking here, you creep?"

"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."

"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.

"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.

But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.

There's another guy that you love.

So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.

Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?

Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.

[phantomrose96]

I'm having an interesting day!

>be me >over Christmas my dad got me signed up for identity protection stuff >yesterday morning >alert for a new "financial inquiry" placed by JP Morgan Chase >"well I did not do that" >click the "this wasn't me" button >"a rep will reach out to you" >an Allstate rep reaches out to me today >I'm like "yeah that wasn't me" >he's like "huh. no good" >he's trying to reach out to them (I assume JP Morgan Chase). can't get a hold of a rep. >he says "im opening a case for you and we will call you back with an update later" >in the meantime he sends me an email of next steps >steps include a) putting out a fraud alert to the credit bureaus and b) freezing credit >he also gets me the JP Morgan Chase customer service line >I'm like "okay I should do/call all of these, right?" >he's like "yeah" >ok >he hangs up >I call the JP Morgan Chase number he gave me >I immediately get "thank you for calling Bank of America--" >what >(he gave me the wrong number….?) >I google "is JP Morgan Chase the same as Bank of America...?" >I get "no. you idiot." >I google "JP Morgan Chase help number" >I find one for Chase Bank. another for JP Morgan bank >I google "are these the same". >google says "JP Morgan Chase is the parent company of both JP Morgan bank and Chase bank" >ok > ?? >look at Chase bank customer service tab >"log in with your Chase bank account to--" >well I can't do that. I don't have a Chase bank account. in fact the problem right now is whether someone is trying to make me have a Chase bank account >this is hard >I will do the credit fraud alert first I guess >open the page the Allstate dude gave me >page lists phone numbers and websites for the bureaus >click the first link (equifax) >takes me to my.equifax.com >I make an account with my SSN >"verifying" page then says "oops we cant complete your account. call THIS number" >the number they give me doesn't match the one on the earlier page >ok >call the number on the my.equifax page >decide to multi-task while on hold and start making my experian profile >hold music ends >lady answers and says "thank you for calling Dell customer support" > ? >I say "….wait sorry, did you say Dell? I'm trying to call equifax. is this the wrong number?" >I'm staring at the screen and the phone and I HAVE typed the number correctly >Woman goes "…thank you for calling Dell customer service. if you cannot understand me please ask me to repeat myself" >I say "sorry, just. You said Dell right? This is NOT equifax?" >Woman: Are you US or Canada? >Me: "sorry, just to backtrack--" >Woman continues speaking like I haven't said anything. >she says she's going to say a number out loud >(...? like, verify my phone number maybe??) >she starts reading out this long number. >just absurdly long. >just way too many digits for a phone number >her: "2 2 4 7 7 6 4"64 >me: ?? >her: "2 4 3 3 2 6" >me: "sorry, just" >her: "5 5 5 2 3 4" >??????? >??????????????? >I hang up > ?????????????????????????????? >I google the number I called >it's probably just out of date >all online results SAY this is equifax >like 10 different results all going "yep. equifax" >??? >I call it BACK (open the "recent call" page on my phone and tap it. did not re-type it. straight up just tapped it from my last call) >automated voice >"thank you for calling Equifax. please hold" >????????? >WHO WAS DELL LADY??? >anyway >get an Equifax rep >she informs me account creation does not work on a VPN >oh okay >I turn off my work VPN >successfully create account >I give her a 10 on every survey category for telling me that >put credit freeze and fraud alert on Equifax >put credit freeze and fraud alert on Experian >try TransUnion >no option to make account. only log in. (paid only?) >tab says "don't have an account? try out these options" >credit freeze is an option under that tab >click that >it takes me to the account sign in page >ok >I do that circle on more time. for completeness.

>I google "transunion how make account" >google takes me to some other page that DOES have account creation >create account >click on the "freeze credit" option >page spins for a long time >"sorry we can't figure out your credit freeze status right now" >ok >download the Equifax/Experian/Transunion apps to keep closer tabs on this >try to log in to Transunion >"error: your password is between 8-15 characters" >? >check my password >it's 16 characters >try again >"error: your password is between 8-15 characters" >well no it's not >re-log in to the web >works >try app >"error: your password is between 8-15 characters" >?? >go to website >change my password for 15 characters >try app >"sorry, we're broken right now" >ok

I've decided this is good enough and if the fraudster wants my identity I think they can have it now

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 2

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael have some late night phone calls. He struggles to open up.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: wow! Y’all are really so nice omg, I really appreciate all of you who took the time to like, comment or reblog. I also appreciate all you silent readers too! I’m genuinely surprised with how much traffic part 1 got, so thank you all so much! Contemplating adding this to my AO3 account from the perspective of a f!oc, but still undecided (I prefer to keep my reader works strictly for tumblr, idk why). This is definitely going to be multiple parts (my rough outline currently has ten chapters whoops).

I don’t know much about sugar babies aside from what I’ve read, so I took some liberties with my guesstimates.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: age gap, slowburn, foul language, allusion to a panic attack, work stress, Robby trying to avoid his feelings/anxiety, my basic understanding of accounting, angst

not beta read

“You’re lucky. Someone only looking for companionship is a small pool of men. Not as lucrative as a traditional sugar baby, but if that’s more your speed, maybe reach out to some more.”

Your smile twisted, “I’m already uncomfortable with just one. Thinking about adding more makes me feel icky.”

Erin rolled her eyes, “Why? They know what they signed up for. If they wanted fidelity, then they should get a girlfriend.”

“I’m telling you, I could hook you up with a shift or two a week at the bar. I make great tips.” Marsi said, her eyes not flickering from her laptop.

You frowned. “I already gave him my number. My Google Voice number, but yeah.”

“That’s my girl!” Erin praised with a laugh.

You wondered if it was a mistake. He had not reached out since you had sent the number on the app, nearly four days prior. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. Anxiety filled your chest at the thought of having to go through the whole process again.

Or just drop it and take Marsi up on her offer.

—

Your night passed slowly, studying with your friends until dinner time, when they left. You kept your focus on the Excel spreadsheet in front of you, checking over your homework with careful eyes. Numbers were easy, they did not hold the complexities of human beings—

Your phone buzzed on the table, immediately pulling you away from your work.

You have any time to talk?

It was an unknown number. You watched as the three dots appeared immediately after, though it wasn’t hard to guess who it was.

This is Michael by the way.

So formal, you found yourself thinking with a small smile, quickly adding him to your contacts.

I have time.

It only took a few more moments before your phone started ringing. Anxiety thrummed through your system, heart beating like a drum against your ribcage. You took a long breath through your nose before answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” He answered awkwardly.

“How are you?” You asked out of habit.

There were several moments of silence. “I want to say I’m okay.”

“But you’re not?”

“But I’m not.” Came his quiet reply.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Another measured silence. “No. Yes? I don’t know.”

You hummed. “I understand your hesitation, we don’t know each other. But isn’t that the whole point? I’m unconnected to your life and you basically have anonymity. I won’t pry, so we can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

He was silent for a long time. You checked the call to make sure it hadn’t dropped. The seconds ticked away on the call, so he was still there. You waited.

“Just a…rough day.” He said, his tone sounding stressed. “I think I’d rather talk about your day right now.”

“My day?” You questioned, surprised.

He only hummed in response.

“Do you want the play-by-play or the cliff-notes?”

Michael exhaled a ghost of a laugh, “Give me all of it.”

You cleared your throat, “So my alarm went off at 5:20, no! 5:25, and then I got out of bed—”

He laughed, bringing a smile to your lips.

“I have early classes on Thursdays, so I was up earlier than I usually like to be…”

“Night owl?”

“Guilty.” You smiled. “But it was my forensic accounting class, which I’ve been enjoying, so I wasn’t too upset getting out of bed. Add in my morning coffee, and I was a pretty happy camper.” You paused, but he was quiet on the other end. “I had taxation today too, and despite the fact I love the numbers, learning tax law just isn’t my favorite thing.”

“Why do you like it? Accounting?”

“Oh, um,” you paused, deliberating. “I like turning unreadable stuff into a well-crafted report, turn a mess into an easy to read story of a company’s financial history. Plus, numbers are a lot less complicated than human beings.”

There was his quiet laugh again. “Yeah, I can see how that can be true.”

“As a doctor, I can imagine you would.” You were smiling.

“I’ve seen…a lot of complicated people.”

You waited a few moments, but he didn’t elaborate. People were the primary reason you had left the medical field early on in your college career — while you enjoyed being helpful, people could be too overwhelming.

“And my shift today was good, busy and boring, but easy enough.”

As you went on about your day as a payroll clerk (though vague about the company details), Michael was quiet. It was clear he needed the distraction from whatever his day had been. You explained your studying routine with your friends and your love of baking. You got the occasional hum of acknowledgment, but it was clear he just wanted to listen to you talk. You moved from topic-to-topic without complaint, pausing occasionally to make sure he did not want to comment, or change the subject.

It was late when you realized the time: 11:08.

“Michael? I’m sure I could keep going, but I’m not sure you want to hear my opinions on office politics.” Your tone was jesting.

Still no response. Furrowing your brows, you listened silently to the other end.

Small puffs of air, slow and steady, in and out. In. Out. He had fallen asleep.

Your first instinct was to be offended — no telling how long since he had drifted off or how long you had rambled to no one. But then you relaxed. He had clearly needed the distraction from what was going through his head when he first called, enough to quiet his brain. Or perhaps he was just that exhausted. Either way, you did not take it personally, you would have likely been up this late anyways.

You ended the call at two hours and seventeen minutes.

—

Are you available at 9?

You checked your phone when you moved into the living room, dinner cooking in the oven, finding a text from Michael. Per your agreement, you usually talked about once a week. He usually gave late notice, though it usually reflected how bad his day had gotten. Your last talk, however, had only been three days prior.

In addition to the one only days ago, you had talked two additional times since your first, typically at night, where you did most of the talking. You almost found your talks therapeutic; plus you were getting paid to just talk. Though, you wished he talked more — part of you felt like you were taking advantage of the situation and he was barely getting anything out of it.

He had already put money on the prepaid Visa card you had picked up after your first phone conversation. Michael thought the card would be more discreet and confidential than Venmo. The $400 dollars you had agreed on for the month had done wonders with relieving the pressure on making your rent payment.

Erin had encouraged you to set up an online wishlist as well, adding things periodically in case he wanted to buy something extra for you. “As a tip,” Erin had told you, a wide smirk on her face. That same day, Erin had coincidentally brought her new Valentino canvas bag that you were sure cost more than your rent payment. You held off on the wishlist, but you kept a few things in your notes app. Just in case.

You sent him a confirmation that you were fine with nine. He must work late hours. He had said he was a doctor, but you wondered in what specialty or where, but you had never broached the topic. You both valued your privacy when it came to your arrangement, not wanting to muddy the waters.

Surprisingly, he did not call at nine. He was usually pretty punctual when it came to a time he asked for. You waited patiently for several minutes before moving to start some hot water for tea, looking out the window at the rain. You figured to give him a bit of extra time before turning in.

At 9:24, your phone rang. Part of you nearly picked it up on the first ring, but you gave it a few moments before picking up. When you answered, he spoke first.

“Please just talk. About anything.” He sounded out of breath, talking quickly. His tone sounded more stressed than you had heard before.

“Are you alright?” Was your first instinct instead of doing as he asked, standing from your chair at the dining table, mug of tea forgotten.

“Fuck. No, I’m not. Please just talk to me. Your day. Your job. The fucking traffic this morning. Anything,” Your name was so quiet on his tongue, you nearly missed it.

It sounded like a plea.

You swallowed, pulse quickening, before running with it, “This asshole actually cut me off this morning, which considering his bumper stickers, wasn’t all that surprising. No blinker, nothing. I swear, sometimes the subway is less stressful, though I hate the morning crowds.”

Suddenly realizing talking about stressful things might not be the best way to calm him down, you pivoted, pacing across your apartment. Deciding quickly on something boring to most, you began to explain your most recent accounting assignment. How you came up with the financial analysis from the numbers your professor had given, to the tax implications of several of the (fake) business’s decisions. You explained it as best you could in layman's terms, trying not to make the math too complicated, before walking him through your report and your thoughts about how to help the business improve.

You paused long enough to hear his breathing, not quite as ragged but still loud and quick. “I don’t need you to respond, but think of five things you can see.”

Oh this was cliche, but you did not dwell on it.

After a few moments, “Okay, four things you can touch.” You paused, finding four things of your own to ensure he had time. “Now three things you can hear.”

“You.” He croaked, much quieter than he had been. “I can hear you.”

“That’s good. Now two more things.”

“…the rain. The cars outside.”

“Good,” you breathed out. “Two things you can smell?”

He didn’t answer, though his breathing had slowed tremendously from when you had first answered his call. It felt relieving, and you finally made your way to sit on the couch.

“Last is one thing you can taste.”

He let out a long deep breath, but kept whatever it had been to himself.

“Are you okay?” You asked again after a few moments.

“No.” He said. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

You nearly huffed, but the annoyance was fleeting. You smiled, “I can tell you more about accounting, but most people find it incredibly boring.”

“You seem to really enjoy accounting. Though, I can’t imagine being cooped up in an office all day.”

“Well I wasn’t quite cut out for psychiatry, and I’ve always enjoyed a good spreadsheet.”

“Psychiatry?” He sounded surprised. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“What does that mean?”

“You would’ve been good at it.”

Oh?

“Thank you.” You whispered. “Um, can I interest you in what my professor assigned today or how my manager nearly fucked up payroll this week?”

He cleared his throat, “I’ll take ‘how my manager nearly fucked up today’ for $200, Alex.”

Your lips quirked back up at the Jeopardy reference, trying to shake off the feeling his praise had given you. With a long sigh, you rubbed your fingers along your hairline.

“He messed up the new employee’s tax deductions by misclassifying his title. When he backtracked to fix it, he cleared out the entire category — thankfully I caught it when I was putting my own numbers in for the small team I oversee.” You told him, looking at your nails. “Led to quite a frustrating day.”

Despite the fact that it had led to quite a hectic start to your workday, adding several tasks that interrupted you workflow, you felt mildly pathetic knowing his day had clearly been so much worse. You tried not to compare, your days had just as much value as his, but it was still a creeping feeling in your gut.

You continued on after a beat of silence on his end. Fixing the problem hadn’t necessarily been the issue — it was redoing every employee's numbers that led to your annoyance. That, and the lack of accountability from your manager.

Time ticked on, Michael only adding in his thoughts here and there, mostly staying quiet.

He coughed awkwardly during a lull in your conversation, “Uh, thank you for tonight.”

Beginning to feel your exhaustion, you smiled tiredly. “No thanks necessary.”

“Goodnight,” there was your name again.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

[ Next ]

want to join the taglist? shoot me a message!

[wlwsoccerfics]

Queen of Tattoos(AitanaBonmatiXReader)

Warnings: a bit suggestive. Google translate used.

Summary: you are a tattoo artist and tattoo yourself as a surprise for your girlfriend.

You sat in the back of your tattoo Shop, currently tattooing yourself. What you tattooed on yourself? The Jersey number of your girlfriend Aitana.

You had around 20 Tattoos and you were far from done. You heard the door to the Shop being unlocked. So you knew it was Aitana. Since she was the only Person besides you who had a Key.

"amor, ets aquí?" You hear her voice. God you loved her voice. ( love, are you here? )

"Sóc al darrere, àngel." You let her know, as you continued to tattoo yourself. ( I am in the back, Angel. )

"y/n..." She said with a soft chuckle as she walked into the room and saw you with the tattoo machine. It wasn't the first time she had walked in on you tattooing your own Body.

"sí, amor meu?" You asked and grinned softly. ( yes my love? )

"Què t'estàs tatuant?" She wanted to know and stepped closer. ( What are you tattooing on yourself? )

"el teu número de samarreta." You stated and placed the tattooing machine aside when you were done. ( your jersey number )

"Oh, Déu meu. Això és increïble." She told you and kissed your cheek. Taking a picture of it with her Phone. ( oh my god. that's amazing. )

"M'alegro de veure que t'agrada." You stated and pulled her in for a gentle kiss. Hands on her waist, squeezing it gently. Which made Aitana shiver. ( i am glad to see that you like it. )

"Carinyo, no siguis tan bromista." She scolded you but then grinned softly. You winked at her . ( babe, don't be such a tease. )

"No facis com si no t'agradés que et prengués el pèl." You replied and smirked sheepishly. ( don't act like you don't like me being a tease. )

"seràs la meva mort!" Aitana let you know and kissed you again, this time your hand was moving to her ass. Squeezing her butt cheeks playfully. ( you gonna be the death of me! )

"Tots dos ho sabem, no ho voldries de cap altra manera." You said. You knew how much she enjoyed every second of it. ( we both know, you wouldn't want it any other way. )

You made out for a while, before she spoke up. In english this time. Because you were born in Barcelona. Your Mami was born Here as well. Your dad was half english and half dutch. So you also spoke dutch and currently were working on learning italian.

"i get a tattoo?" She asked you. You nodded your head softly.

"what would you like?" You asked her.

"a rosa." She told you. Rose was your middle name . ( Rose)

"cause of my middle name?" You wanted to know.

"sí." Aitana said and nodded her head softly. ( Yes )

"that's cute!" You replied and smiled at her. "Are you sure you want that on your Body?" You asked her.

"yes." She told you again and you got everything ready for the tattoo. She wanted it on her right ankle so that's what you did. Talking to her about the upcoming second Leg of the Champions League semi finals.

When you were done with her tattoo she admired it and smiled brightly. Thanking you with a kiss.

"Gràcies. M'encanta, la meva reina dels tatuatges." She whispered against your lips. ( thank you. I love it, my queen of tattoos. )

[moth-murdock]

No one knows (I wish she could)

My masterlist | Series masterlist

A/n: part two! Let's fucking go! Also, those images were chosen for a very specific reason that you will find out later :)

Genre: angst? Fluff?

Summary: being pregnant is supposed to be celebrated. But how are you supposed to tell your husband when he has such deep emotional wounds?

Warnings: telling your husband you're pregnant

Other tags: Curtis mentioned, max not much :(, confrontation yikes, I'm starting to Google stuff now so bear with me

Word count: 1.6k

You pocket the test and sneak over into your shared bedroom to hide it. After much deliberation, you decide to go back to the bathroom and hide it among your period things. You knew for sure that Frank wouldn't go nosing around in there, and it's not like you'd forget about it. You couldn't if you tried.

Slowly, and with shaking breath, you put your things back to how they were. Then, you felt like you could cry. All the worst-case scenarios were going through your head at once, and you felt like they would all come true and burn down the life you had built with Frank. You wash your face to will the tears away, heading back to the living room. He's still asleep. Good.

After a moment of thinking and a glance at the crooked clock on the wall, you turn the forgotten TV off.

"Honey... Come on..." You say softly as you nudge your husband

"You're gonna be achey tomorrow if you sleep on the couch." You reason, but you are met with a protesting groan from the man

"Not gonna be able t'sleep if I get up..." He murmurs, adjusting the pillow beneath his head

"And I can't sleep without you in the bed with me, sweetheart." You counter, to which he gives a few seconds of thought before getting up.

"Don't say I don't love you..." He grumbles as he stretches, his shirt riding up a bit to reveal his happy trail. You want to have a sinful thought, but that is quickly doused by the knowledge of what is currently hiding in your bathroom drawer. Thankfully, he's too sleepy to notice the worry on your face. 

You both make your way back to the bedroom, crawling into the soft sheets together. He's the big spoon tonight, pressing gentle, sleepy kisses to the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around you. You want to be comforted, but this just makes his hands end up on your stomach. Instinctively, you tense for a second. But you don't want him to know something's wrong, so you force yourself to relax. You damn near shit yourself when you're pulled out of your thoughts by his voice, rough with sleep.

"G'night, sweetheart."

"Night, baby"

Baby

The next morning, you take another test. To be sure. Because there's no way, right? I mean, you take your pills on time every day. No matter what. Of course, birth control isn't always effective... But the odds are so slim, there's no way. Right?

Two pink lines.

FUCK

It takes 2 days before you feel like you're actually going to die unless you tell someone. So you call the people you know are close to Frank. You pick up your phone, dialing Curtis's number. There's background noise, like he's probably cooking dinner

"Hello?"

"Curtis! Hi!"

"What did he do this time?" The man chuckles

"actually... I uh... I need your advice on something."

"Alright, what is it?"

"... Well... I uh... I'm pregnant. And I don't know how to tell Frank, and I'm scared of how he'll react."

You hear the click of a stove being turned off and the scrape of a pan being moved off the burner.

"Well... Before anything else, congratulations."

Oh boy.

"... Thank you..."

"I know you know about Maria and the kids. But I need more context."

"Like?..."

"Was this planned? Unplanned? Have the two of you talked about kids before? How did he react to that? All that."

"Oh, um... Unplanned. And I've tried to bring up kids before... He avoids it every time..."

Every time you tried to hint at kids with Frank, you were shut down. A video of a baby in a onesie? He said "cute" and nothing more. Asking to look around the infant section of the store? He asked if your sister was pregnant. You straight up asked him what he thought about kids as you walked past a park one day, and he said "they're alright. Pretty loud."

"Okay... So... Unplanned, and he's been avoiding talking about kids..." Curtis repeats

"Yeah..." You sigh

"Well... I'll tell you what I do know. I know Maria's pregnancy also wasn't planned. But damn it if he didn't love those kids more than anything."

"Yeah, I thought about that too, but I don't know if he'll be the same about me. He didn't have so many... Issues... When Maria was pregnant."

"Good point..."

There's a few more moments of silence before he speaks again.

"The best I can do is this. Tell him, and if he doesn't take it well, call me. I'll try to talk to him."

"Thank you, Curtis."

"No problem. Congrats again." He says before hanging up, after which you put your phone away with a sigh.

You pretty much repeat this process with Dinah, David, and even Matt. You needed all the opinions you could get. And they all said something along the lines of what Curtis said. Frank loved his previous children, and he loves you. But also in case anything goes wrong they would all beat the shit out of him together.

You know you only have so much time before you can no longer hide it. If you did your math right, you got pregnant about two weeks before your period. And given that morning sickness starts at around five weeks, you don't have very long to think about what you want to do and how to do it. 

What you know for sure is that you don't want to get rid of it. But having a baby would affect Frank as well, so he should at least get to put in his opinion. That still means you have to tell him.

It could potentially blow up in your face, yes, but it doesn't seem like Frank would realistically be angry or leave you for it. Hell, when he found out Maria was pregnant, the first thing he did was put a ring on her finger. Their marriage was a good one, from what Curtis and Frank himself have told you. So this can't go too horribly wrong, right?

You take some time to consider your options before you finally come to a decision. You're going to tell Frank. But now you figure out how. You've seen a few pregnancy reveals before, so you have an idea of what you could do that Frank would like. Hopefully, if he likes it enough, he won't blow up.

We need to talk when you come home you text.

Okay. 👍🏻

Despite the situation, that manages to get a small laugh out of you. That seemed to be his response to just about everything.

As you wait for Frank to get home, you decide to pick up some pizza from Lombardi's. You figure that if he's happy, it's celebratory. If he's upset, it's a consolation. You check your phone to see if he's on his way home yet, and he's about 15 minutes out. Fuck.

In an attempt to not go insane, you go to the bathroom to take one more test, just in case. After the longest ten minutes of your life, you are greeted by two pink lines. Double fuck.

You let yourself spiral until you hear Frank's truck pull into the driveway, at which point you go to the dining table. Frank walks in and hangs up his jacket, smirking at the pizza on the table

"Lombardi's and a talk? I hope we're celebratin'" He chuckles in that low voice of his, crossing the room to give you a kiss.

"I hope so too..." You sigh into the kiss, your grip tightening around the positive test in your hands

"You hope so?" He asks, pulling away and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear

"Frank... I..." You start, trying to avoid the lump that forms in your throat.

Frank, lord bless him, just waits. He has this look when he's listening, so aggressive and yet so soft at the same time.

"What I wanted to talk to you about... Is... It's..." You struggle, trying to speak around the lump in your throat.

And Frank, he just listens. He listens in a way that you know he really is. He has that look on his face, so aggressive and yet so soft. He meets your eyes, and that's all it takes for you to break. Because you don't want to lose him. You don't want to lose everything you have with him.

Frank sees the fat tears brimming on your waterline and immediately wraps his arms around you so tenderly and with such concern that it just makes you cry even more.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on? Why're you cryin'?"

You can't answer, your nose already so full that you almost can't breathe. When he notices that, he stops trying to get you to talk. He lets you cry it out, your tears rolling off his flannel.

Once your sniffles die down, you gather the strength to speak.

"I just... I love you so much... And I don't want to lose you..."

"I ain't goin' nowhere... Why would you lose me?" He chuckles softly as he cups your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs

"Because... I don't... know how you'll take it..." You hiccup between breaths

"Take what, sweetheart?"

You finally bring up your hands, showing him the positive pregnancy test

"I'm... I'm pregnant, Frank."

Chapter 3: I want her to know (he don't have it all)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Torn V

Kewis x Child!Reader

Summary: You go to the doctor

Usually, when you go to the doctor, it's because Mom has to have another checkup on her knee.

Lately though, it's because of you.

You go to the GP and then you go to another doctor and then another one.

Mom and Mommy are worried about you but you don't know why. They speak in hushed tones together and always make sure to squeeze you extra tight during bed time cuddles.

You don't understand what's going on, even as you're taken to the special doctor and have sticky things stuck to your head.

Mommy says that it's to check you're healthy. You don't know why you have to be checked like this all of a sudden but it's not too bad.

Mom had surgery before. That's scary.

Having weird things stuck to your head isn't scary, not really so you force yourself to be brave.

You get to hold your favourite dino toy nice and tight as you look up at flashing lights and the nurses set you up for the rest of your tests.

Things are weird but you must be brave like how Mommy was brave to move across the world to be with Mom and how Mom was brave when she had her knee surgery.

You have to be brave because Mom and Mommy are brave all the time and you don't want them to see you scared.

You go for more appointments too, to get your blood drawn and to be checked over.

Then, it's a round of waiting.

Mom and Mommy don't tell you what's going on, not really, but they hold you more often.

You're sitting in the doctor's office again when your moms get told the results.

Kristie's been anxious all morning, knee bouncing as the doctor pulls up your file.

Any number of things could be wrong with you.

She'd doom scrolled through google last night, reading about cancer and tumours for so long that Sam had to take her phone from her and hold her as she cried.

You'd never been sick like this before. Sure, you'd had the flu and a tummy bug before but your random zone outs are nothing like that.

Kristie doesn't know how long you've been having them, doesn't know how long they've been ignored for. She doesn't know if they're going to get worse or if you've already hit the worst of them.

She takes Sam's hand tightly in her own, eyes darting down to the floor where you're amusing yourself playing with your dinosaur toys.

"Alright and this is for the little one, right?"

Kristie nods.

"Can you confirm her name?"

"y/n Mewis-Kerr."

"And birthdate?"

Kristie answers easily and squeezes Sam's hand.

"Right." The doctor types in a few more things before swinging his chair around to face them.

"Is she okay?"

"That depends on what your idea of okay is. We can make a diagnosis after seeing the results of her tests."

"And?" Sam asks, getting a bit impatient with this man trying to delay telling them.

He reaches across the desk to grab a pamphlet, offering it up to them.

"We're very confident that Miss y/n has CAE. Childhood Absence Epilepsy."

"Epilepsy," Sam repeats," She's been having seizures?"

The doctor nods. "Now, there's not much to worry about at this stage." He opens the leaflet and points to a section. "The type of seizure she's been having are absence seizures. These are normal enough and aren't as dangerous as others."

"So...So she'll be okay?"

The doctor purses his lips. "Most kids grow out of it by the time they're teenagers but..."

Kristie sighs. "Some don't."

"There is a chance that she'll develop a different type of epilepsy as she grows up."

"That's it?" Sam scoffs, something unfamiliar swelling in her chest. "Oh, your kid has epilepsy! Here you go?!"

"Sam!" Kristie hisses.

"Mom?"

The room falls silent as you twist around to look at Sam, broken out of your play by her loud voice.

"Are you okay?"

Sam looks at you, mouth hung open for a moment before she opens her arms up for you.

You go to her willingly, letting her lift you up onto her lap.

"We're talking to the doctor about you, chook," Kristie says," He's going to help you get better."

"But I'm not sick," You tell her," Am I sick, Mommy?"

Kristie shakes her head. "No, chook and we're going to keep you that way. Let's just listen to what the doctor has to say."

The doctor clears his throat. "From what I've seen and what you've told me, I'm going to recommend some medicine to keep her seizures under control. I'll send off the prescription in a moment and the pharmacy will call you when it's ready. All the dosages and instructions are on the bottle."

Kristie nods as Sam holds you tighter than before.

"We'll schedule another appointment in a month so we can check how she's doing on her new medication and we'll adjust as needed. She'll also need to be seen by her neurologist at least once a year just to check on how she's doing."

"And...And if she does develop a different type of epilepsy?" Sam asks tentatively.

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

[judysxnd]

love above all

Lando Norris imagine

Wrote this right after watching the Canada Grand Prix 🥺 it’s almosf midnight for me so good night 😴 I’m publishing it without overthinking it bc if I wait more I will never put it out. At my own risk 🤷🏻‍♀️

Warning: kinda sad idek

——————————————————————

You sat there in front of the tv, too big for the scene happening in front of you. Lando crashed into Oscar. A crash between teammates, dreadful for McLaren. You gasped so loud, standing up from the couch. He was so close, too close apparently. Oscar didn’t get any damage but Lando lost everything. You heart skipped a beat.

You had broken up like four months ago but you didn’t stop watching F1 nor supporting your ex. You were a papaya fan before being Lando’s girlfriend. You knew about F1 before even knowing Lando personally. But this is why this moment hurt that much. You wanted to defend Lando but didn’t understand what really happened, but at the same time, why Oscar closed on him as he saw him going on his left.

It was just an opinion, but you knew how it would be seen outside by fans and medias. What broke you the most was his interview after the race. You recognized that look, he knew he made a mistake and he was already overthinking it. You had that knot in your stomach, that old anxiety for him, knowing that it could result in no sleep for days, barely eating or talking to his friends and family.

But you couldn’t do anything anymore. You weren’t part of his life anymore. You weren’t the one he was going to call after all of this. And also, why would he? He chose her instead of you. You were dating for two years, but this PR stunt went too far and he caught feelings. You trusted him but you got hurt. And yet you were still loving him as much as before. You were mad at him for sure, but the love you had was real, and still here for both of you.

You went outside take a deep breath after that, leaving your friends in the living room. There were all debating about the collision, making too much noise and no sense at all for you. You looked up at the stars, wishing that you felt different. How bad you wanted to call him, reassure him, but he was probably already on the phone with his new girlfriend that kept showing up on the screens in the last Grand Prix.

The ringing from your phone snapped you out of your thoughts: “unknown number” showed on the screen. You guessed it was your friend from NYC who also probably watched the Grand Prix and wanted to tease about the race. They change number very often so you went for that.

“Hey, if you call to tease me about what happened tonight it’s very low, even from you” you joked, but you didn’t hear anything back. “Hello?”

“Y/n, hi” you stayed still. You recognized that voice. You would recognize it anywhere.

“..Lando?” You said, looking at the phone again, seeing if you imagined the unknown caller or if it said his name.

“Yes”

“Wh- whose phone are you calling me from?”

“the.. google one from the team” you couldn’t help but laugh. “I guessed you wouldn’t have answered me if you saw my name”

“you would have been surprised I think”

“oh yeah?” There was hope in his voice

“but I am surprised you’re actually calling me right now tho”

“Why?”

“we broke up, you have someone else to call right now”

“I know.. but- I just- I miss you and you always have the right words”

“Lando..”

“I know I know, I should have thought about that before”

“Yeah, you have some nerves calling me”

“I really needed to, at least hear your voice after today”

“Yeah.. I saw what happened”

“You watched the race?”

“Of course I did, I always do”

“Wished you didn’t” Lando admitted

“Yeah, shit happens sometimes”

“Too many times” there it was. His thoughts were getting the best of him already

“It normal to make mistakes Lando you know that right? Look at the pressure you have to handle, you’re fighting for the title, and it happens to be with your own teammate”

“Yeah but he doesn’t make mistake”

“He clipped the wall this weekend, he does make mistakes too”

“He handles the pressure well”

“Don’t start on that. I feel like I’m talking to myself.” You joked. “You are upset that you struggle under pressure when he doesn’t, that he is so calm and you’re not, you feel like a kid throwing a tantrum bla bla bla.” You heard Lando laughed a bit. “Am I wrong?”

“No”

“Then remember what you used to say to me then”

“It’s different here”

“How? You made a mistake, even tho I do think Oscar saw you going on his left and he shouldn’t have closed the door on you, you assumed you did bad, which is an improvement from you, and you move on. Look everytime you made a mistake or something, you came back ten times stronger”

“You think I didn’t do anything wrong? I don’t agree”

“Well I don’t understand why you went on the left instead of the right, but we can keep talking about that forever, you need to move on.”

“I know, but like you I need to digest what happened first”

“And not like me, you need to stay off the medias. Don’t listen to what anyone says. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone moved on really fast from what Max pulled last time with Russel. He literally did throw a tantrum, you made a genuine mistake, that’s it. You are world champion material, you’ve come from far”

“You are too nice to me y/n”

“I know.. I can’t help it. But I saw the look in your eyes”

“Wished you were there with me”

“Lando..” you sighed, looking down.

“I know. I’m sorry. I keep making mistakes”

“Stop that. We’re not together anymore but it doesn’t mean we can’t care for each other or talk like friends”

“After what I did, yes, you should be so mad at me”

“I accepted it. It’s too late for any changes anyway”

“I didn’t” there was a moment of silence. You heard voices in the background.

“You need to go back there huh?” You asked, kind of sad that you had to end the call.

“Yeah..”

“Well..”

“Thank you, for still being here for me”

“You still called me after my accident, told you. We can still care for each other”

“I guess”

“Okay come on, hang up” you joked “be careful, don’t listen to anyone, you got this. McLaren wouldn’t be here without you, no one deserves this as much as you do. Stay focused”

“Thanks” you smiled “I love you”

“I love you too” you naturally said back. Then he hung up.

Why love has to be that strong? Why can’t you be mad after everything? Did you move on? No, you wouldn’t have said “I love you too” then. Well, how the tables have turned. Look who’s overthinking now? Anyway. The night isn’t over. You don’t hear loud voices anymore, the debate must have ended. Let’s go back inside and change your mind.

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

hey so thinking about stalker!quinn so bare that in mind when you click that handy dandy read more. i rambled hard core but whatever

he sees you in a book store in downtown Vancouver. your hairs just below your shoulders, you have on what looks like a black skirt and a pair of tights with black converse to match and he can’t read whatever’s on your hoodie.

all he can do is stare as your flip book after book, flushing as you read a random page before grabbing the book and holding it close.

he’s following you around the store, just grabbing random books to make himself not look like a weirdo. he needs more. needs to know who you are.

he overhears you ramble your phone number for rewards, replaying it in his head while you finish your transaction. as soon as he steps foot into his apartment, he’s googling.

he’s finding you one way or another. he learns you just graduated from Michigan State (and he cringes a little), and you just moved here for a job at the hospital. you’re 23, almost 24. you’re a pisces he’s learned, you really like music that screams in his year and taylor swift. it doesn’t make sense to him but that’s okay. he can live with it.

he finds out you live in his building. he sees you walking into the mail room and opening up box 117, that’s the floor below his. he’s learned you leave every Monday through friday at 5:30am and get home at 6:30pm. he hasn’t talked to you yet, just left flowers and dinners at your door.

he was getting out of his car when he saw you park yours. perfect, he’s thinking. he makes himself look busy while he waits for you to get to the elevator. making sure no one else is around, he’s walking to your car and sticking an air tag under your car. he’s gotta make sure you’re okay.

that following friday, he sees your at work still and against all better judgment goes down to the front desk and talks his way into getting a spare key to your apartment. he apologizes profusely to the desk, “i’m sorry my girlfriend didn’t leave hers under the mat and i’m supposed to surprise her tonight.” and who’s gonna say no to the beloved teams captain? no one.

that’s how he ended up in your apartment, placing cameras in hidden spots. he needs to learn your daily routine. what makes you tick. what you sound like when you moan.

once he’s found his way to your bedroom, he notices a pile of laundry on the floor. messy, messy girl. his eyes set on a lacy pair of underwear closer to your bed and he’s grabbing them before his brain even has time to stop him.

he made it home just in time. as soon as his doors closing, he gets a notification yours opened.

he’s pulling the cameras to see your pulling your top off and walking towards your room. his hands moving down to his sweats, trying to push them down enough when he hears your voice say his name.

“Quinn. yeah that’s the upstairs guys. no i haven’t talked to him much at all. yes he’s cute. very cute actually. but i don’t stand a chance. his face is fucking on the side of an arena dude, all i need is 10 minutes.” followed by some laughter.

baby, you’re getting more than 10 minutes.

he’s banging on your door before he knows it. as soon as your open the door, robe covering your top half, he’s pushing his way in.

“close the door.” he can see your face flushed and the anxiety all but falling from your eyes.

“you wanted 10 minutes? you can have 10 minutes but as soon as those 10 minutes are up? you’re mine. mine to use, to watch, to brand, to have, to do whatever i want with. isn’t that right? been practically begging me for months now. so why don’t you get on your knees and prove your worth?”

[daydreamgoddess14]

Strategic Interests- Chapter 3

Thank you so much for the love on this one so far! I LOVE this chapter so much! I'm currently working way ahead on Chapter 6, and I can't wait for you to see what's coming up! As ever, I'm so grateful for your comments, reblogs, inbox messages, etc! This one doesn't seem very popular for whatever reason, so it's lovely to know you're enjoying it! 💕

Warnings/ratings/notes: language, political setting (literally I only know what Google, Hamilton and the West Wing has taught me!), yearning, longing, Bucky trying so hard to be better, he falls first - she falls harder, banter and arguing, enemies-to-lovers that’s really frustrated co-workers-to-lovers, a little Thunderbolt chaos.... I think that's it for now?

Congressman/Thunderbolt Bucky Barnes x F!Congresswoman Reader.

Word Count: 4.5k

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Chapter 3

You found yourself roaming the hallways when you worked late. It was a habit borne from pacing around your own apartment while you read, but when you were in the office your legs often took you further. Padding down silent hallways with no shoes on and a file open in your hands.

The lights had been dimmed, it was later than you’d planned to stay but you were fighting with decimals that wouldn’t co-operate. Numbers that wouldn’t make sense.

It had been days, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the tiny hitch in Barnes breath when you’d told him he’d handled the meeting well.

Or that he’d even been standing closely enough for you to hear it in the first place.

It made everything worse that he was suddenly so… focused and present. Asking the right questions. Listening.

Somehow, your feet had taken you right to his door. Standing right outside his office.

The door was ajar, the light still on, and from where you stood you could see him leaning on his desk. The low murmur of his voice rumbled in the room.

“ - no, Sam, Alexei definitely did not insult Torres.” He dragged his hand over his face, exasperated. “What do you mean, how do I know? I’d kill him if he did. And he knows that.”

There was a pause while he listened.

“I’ll talk to him. Again. We’re not fighting with you, man. We’re on the same side.”

He laughed, low and smokey. The sound buzzed through your veins like electricity.

“Beer? Some of us are still workin’. Told you, I’m not cruising, I’m tryin’ to do this right.” You could hear a thread of Brooklyn sneaking into his tired voice.

The sound of pages flipping reached your ears as he turned his back on the door, one hand braced on his desk. “Yeah, it’s her file again. - No, I can’t just smile real nice. She doesn’t fall for that shit. She’s too good for that.”

He had your packet on his desk, rife with sticky notes.

“See ya later, man.” He dropped the phone on the desk and reached for his pen again, circling something decisively, muttering to himself.

You stepped back before he saw you, your bare feet making no sound on the plush carpet. You walked away quickly, before he caught you and your face betrayed what your stomach already knew. You weren’t misjudging him.

You were watching him change.

The following morning, the room was packed. Staffers lined the walls, aides whispering at the edges of the table, phones were being silenced. Another committee meeting. Another chance for someone to posture for the press.

You took your usual seat at the head of the table, file open, notes crisp. You were tired - not just from the late night, but from the constant battles and grandstanding. Too many men who loved the sound of their own voice.

“…and I think we all understand the spirit of the amendment,” Dalton drawled, lounging back in his seat. “But let’s not get distracted by semantics, Congresswoman. We’re trying to govern here.”

You didn’t rise. You never did when they did this.

“It’s policy. If you want a loophole that lets you siphon money to your friends’ businesses, then say so and we'll debate it in good faith.”

Dalton’s smile was pure condescension. “Now, now, let’s not be emotional -”

And that’s when Barnes moved.

He hadn’t said much all morning. Just sat back, sleeves rolled up, thumbing through documents like he wasn’t paying close attention - except you knew now that he was.

His voice cut through the low murmur as he flipped a page in his notes, pen tapping thoughtfully against the edge of the folder.

“As the Congresswoman pointed out in her March brief,” he said steadily, nodding at you, “the allocation cap isn’t the problem here - we know that’s always an issue. There’s never enough money. We need to allocate it better, make people accountable for spending what we do have more wisely.”

Your head turned.

You hadn’t expected him to quote you. You definitely hadn’t expected him to cite you word for word. No paraphrasing to make himself look clever. Just your language - precise, clipped - echoed back at you.

And then, as if it weren’t enough, he nodded again toward your end of the table.

“She explained it better than I could, frankly.”

Dalton blinked. You didn’t.

Bucky didn’t look at you. Not directly. But the corner of his mouth twitched like he knew exactly what he’d just done.

A few people shifted. The silence that followed was heavier than usual. More than a few eyes flicked between the two of you.

You didn’t thank him. That wasn’t how this worked.

But you did glance his way as the meeting moved on. Just once.

He was already looking at you.

And then he looked away, like he hadn’t been doing anything at all.

Someone else started speaking. But you were still stuck on that frankly. No one had ever handed you credit in this room without making it about themselves. Without trying to outshine you five minutes later.

But Barnes had just… agreed with you. And amplified your voice.

You didn’t even realise how tense you were until your shoulders relaxed again, muscles unclenching under your silk shirt. You didn’t acknowledge it. You stayed composed. But you could feel a shift, something changing.

Not in the room.

In you.

This wasn’t just coasting anymore. He wasn’t phoning it in. You knew he’d been reading your files and marking them up, but quoting you back to yourself with quiet respect made your stomach pitch in the most irritating way.

And maybe it wouldn’t have gotten under your skin if he hadn’t looked so focused while doing it.

If he hadn’t spoken like someone who actually understood what you were trying to do.

With his brows pinched together, not in a scowl for once, but in concentration.

You snapped your pen closed.

And tried very, very hard not to think about his voice in that dark office, saying you were too good to fall for his smile.

~~~~

You were actually trying to leave on time for once. A bottle of wine in your bag, bedtime story queued up in your head. Sophia Martinez had promised to save you a slice of whatever her kids had baked that afternoon. It sounded like exactly the kind of evening you needed.

Most of the Hill crowd had already trickled out, scattering back to their districts for the rest of the week. You’d hustled Kara out hours ago, shut off the lights, locked your door.

And then you saw him.

Barnes was already in the corridor, files tucked under one arm, a deepening bruise high on his cheekbone.

“Another thrilling encounter with democracy?” you asked, voice dry.

He shrugged. “Some of us are a little more hands-on.”

You opened your mouth to fire something back - and then the klaxon sounded.

A piercing alarm split the hallway. Overhead, mechanical locks slammed into place with a sharp chik-chik, and the fluorescent lights switched to pulsing red.

Both ends of the corridor sealed with a heavy thunk.

You turned, eyes wide. “Please tell me you didn’t trigger that.”

He lifted his hands - all innocence. “This time? No.”

You blinked. “This time?”

He moved to stand next to you, but you noticed that he was positioned almost across you, your back to the wall and him in front.

His broad shoulders tense under his jacket.

Protection.

He was already looking towards the nearest exit - locked shut, checking up at the sprinkler system, the AC vents in the ceiling.

Both of your phones pinged at the same time.

System test. Expected duration 45 minutes.

“It's a drill,” you told him, getting to yours first and stepping out from behind him.

He didn’t move straight away. Just stood there like he was still scanning the exits.

The others in the corridor laughed nervously and set about making themselves comfortable, sitting in the few chairs or on the floor up against the wall.

You weren't so relaxed.

You stood off to the side, frowning at your screen, biting your lip - not in frustration, just focus. It was the softest expression he’d ever seen on your face.

Barnes caught it. Said nothing.

But when you turned back, his gaze lingered. The look on his face had shifted - not smug or teasing. Just… less guarded. More curious.

You held onto your phone, scrolling through messages.

“You ever switch off?”

“I’m not working.” You sighed, thumb still hovering over the screen. “I’m supposed to be putting Sophia's kids to bed tonight.”

“You’re good with kids?” he asked, voice low and casual.

You hesitated. “I’m good at bedtime negotiations.”

That earned the faintest smile. “Bet you’re ruthless.”

You arched a brow. “Only when they try to argue past nine.”

He let out a low laugh and leaned back against the wall beside you, one ankle crossing lazily over the other.

“Same rules for Congress?”

“Something like that,” you said, smirking despite yourself.

“You should sit,” he suggested, nodding toward the floor.

“I’m not great in confined spaces.”

“Well, pacing like a caged tiger probably isn’t helping either,” he replied, glancing around the wide corridor. “It’s also not that bad in here. Could be worse.”

“And you’re just… fine with being locked in?” you asked, eyeing how relaxed he looked, all coiled ease and deliberate stillness.

He gave you that maddening smirk. “Happens surprising often.”

You rolled your eyes. “You treat this job like an action movie.”

He tilted his head. “You watch those?”

“You’re not charming, Barnes.”

“Good thing I’ve got a pretty face to fall back on, right?”

You gave a humourless little exhale and crossed your arms tighter over your chest, trying to ignore the draft blowing through the vent above you.

He clocked it.

Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and held it out.

You hesitated. “I’m fine.”

“You’re cold.”

“I’m not that cold.”

He just looked at you patiently. Like he was letting you decide.

You gave in and took it. More out of stubbornness than gratitude.

It was warm, beautifully lined, with the label of a well-known tailor in DC. It smelled like clean soap and old leather and something you couldn't place underneath - something quiet and distinctly him.

You tried not to react. Didn’t dare meet his eyes.

It hadn’t meant anything at all.

It didn’t matter that your sleeves were too long, or that your pulse had kicked up in your throat.

With a frustrated huff, you sat down on the floor. He tilted his head, studied you for a second and sat next to you, legs outstretched and pressed against yours.

“I meant it, you know,” he said.

You glanced over.

“In the meeting before. I didn’t do that for show.”

“I know,” you said.

“You look at me like I’m an idiot,” he said softly. “I don’t blame you. I know what I look like on paper. But I read your proposal. All of it.”

You felt warm, too warm. He was like a furnace next to you.

He leaned in a little closer. “And it’s good. You’re… you're good.”

You stared at him for too long while he looked at his hands in his lap. His lashes long and dark against his cheek, a scatter of grey hair through his stubble.

Too much. Too close.

You looked away half a second too late.

Your voice, when it came, was soft. Barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t think you’d surprise me.”

His eyes flicked to you.

You shook your head, almost like you regretted it. “I thought I had you pegged. I don’t like being wrong.”

His voice was gentle. “Doesn’t make you weak.”

You didn’t reply. But you didn’t move away, either.

Then the lights overhead flicked back to white. The doors hissed open.

You stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from your skirt. “Well,” you said, dry as bone. “The charm offensive’s been noted.”

He was already walking past, but paused - just long enough to glance over his shoulder.

“That wasn’t charm,” he said. “If I wanted to charm you…”

He let the thought hang, smile just this side of wicked.

“I’d start with dinner.”

And then he was gone.

~~~~

He hadn’t meant to get that close. He hadn’t meant to hand over the jacket or tell her how good she was.

But she’d looked tired. Soft around the edges. Less like the woman who destroyed opponents with a sentence and more like someone carrying a lot. Like she was done with it all.

And he’d wanted her to know: he saw that, too.

“They all look so repressed,” Yelena said by his side, staring at a group of middle aged men in suits.

“They are.”

“And the women look like they need a good fuc -”

“Don't finish that.” He could see her, walking towards them with Congresswoman Alvarez. He liked watching her from afar, she was less guarded. She talked expressively with her hands and smiled widely at the older woman.

As she passed him, she glanced briefly up at him and continued without breaking her stride.

He heard her stop. Just the faintest scuff of her heel against stone.

“Barnes,” she called.

He turned, catching the last of her smile as she told Alvarez she’d catch up. She walked back toward him, calm as ever, heels high, not a hair out of place.

“I need a signature, please.”

She handed him the file and a pen. He opened to the marked page, but even without looking, he could feel the moment her attention shifted to Yelena.

"She's with me," he muttered, not looking up from the file.

"Oof," Yelena stared. "He was right about you -"

"Excuse me?" She asked, as Bucky said,

"Don't -"

"You're so hot. My god," she looked around her carefully. "That ass, wow! Bucky, you're so right!”

She froze silently. So did he.

Then the Congresswoman arched a single brow, recovering quickly. “Me?”

Yelena nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Yeah. He told me about you. Said you were -”

“Lena,” he said, his warning sharper now.

Yelena only grinned wider. “Like, scary hot.”

Everything went still.

He didn’t look at her but he felt the shift. That subtle tightening of presence. Like the air pressure had changed.

Then she smiled. Just the corners of her mouth - the kind of smile that told you she already knew exactly how this would end.

She didn’t look at Yelena when she spoke - she looked at him.

“I see you’ve been talking out of turn, Congressman.”

His throat went dry.

Then - and only then - she turned, eyes cool but not unkind as they swept over Yelena.

“Appreciated.” She said. “I'll be sure to thank my Pilates instructor.”

Yelena grinned like Christmas came early. “Oh my god, you’re incredible.”

“I’m busy, nice to meet you,” she said simply, turning back to him. “Try not to make a habit of this.”

He handed her the file back.

And then she turned and walked away calmly, deliberately. Not a single glance back, because she didn’t need to.

She already knew he was watching. That he always did.

Her heels echoed down the corridor, sharp and unhurried, the swing of her coat just enough to draw the eye. Every line of her body screamed control and power.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

God, she was -

There was a heat behind his ribs that flared before he could kill it. Not lust - not just lust - something heavier, rougher. The kind of wanting that made his jaw clench, his fingers curl. The kind that warned him to get his shit together, because she’d see it if he didn’t.

Yelena let out a low whistle beside him.

“Why haven't you, like, crawled after her by now?”

He didn’t answer.

He was still watching her go.

“Ha! You’re ruined for anyone else, huh?”

She turned a corner out of sight. Only then did he realise the pen had snapped in his hand.

He dropped the pieces into his pocket, flexing his fingers like he could shake the heat out of them.

It didn’t help.

“Spectacular,” Yelena said, more to herself this time. “Just… putting that on the record.”

He shot her a look. “You’re not helping.”

She just grinned. “I think I am.”

He didn’t go to her office right away. He made himself wait long enough to not look too eager, just long enough to pretend he was just following up on something. But when he knocked once and Kara waved him straight inside, he already knew what he was going to say.

“So…” he said, voice casual but eyes sharp, “Yelena thinks your ass is spectacular.”

She looked up slowly.

Unimpressed and a little withering.

But he saw the flicker.

“And?” she asked, one brow arched.

He shrugged, leaning in just enough. “I didn’t say she was wrong.”

Her eyes widened every so slightly.

The pause between them fizzled and popped.

It was too fiery for colleagues.

The kind of moment where something dangerous might start if one of them made the wrong - or right - move.

She didn’t smile.

He didn’t look away.

She turned back to her screen, staying poised and composed.

“Good job she doesn't work here. I'd hate to report this to HR,” she murmured, almost under her breath.

He chuckled low in his chest, but said nothing else.

Not yet.

He stayed there for a second longer than he should have watching the light catch the curve of her jaw, the way her fingers still hovered over the keyboard. Waiting.

And then he left.

Because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d keep his mouth - or his hands - to himself.

~~~~

The hallway was quiet and still. It was long after the last intern had cleared out and the vending machines had stopped humming.

He was still coming down from a call - something ugly, loud, and full of compromises.

Her light was on, the door cracked just a sliver.

He didn’t mean to look. He just wanted to check she was OK.

He stopped. She was asleep on the couch, deep and unguarded. Undone in a way he wasn’t built to handle or privileged enough to have seen before.

Her shoes were off, half-kicked beneath the coffee table. Her blouse folded over a stack of papers. She’d clearly given up at some point. Her skirt had ridden high on her thighs, top button open, zipper half-dragged down.

He froze in the doorway.

Fuck.

It hit him all at once - the curve of her hip, the smooth plane of her thigh, the swell of her breasts beneath the barely-there fabric of her cami. Her lips slightly parted in sleep, a crease between her brows like even rest didn’t come easy.

She looked like a painting. He swallowed, his jaw tight. No, worse - she looked like temptation designed specifically to punish him.

He could see the lace edge of her bra. The deep dip of her waist.

His hands curled into fists.

She would hate this. Hate that he’d seen her like this. That he knew now - not just what she looked like off the clock, but how hard she worked, how far past exhaustion she went before she let herself fall apart.

Something she would never have ordinarily let him see.

A folder of budget drafts was spread out across the floor, one page fluttering faintly from the vent.

His initiative.

Her red pen was still resting between two fingers, the cap missing, a faint blot of ink on her palm.

He stared too long.

He approached quietly. No sound.

Her breath was slow and even. Lashes dark against her cheek, soft in a way she never let herself be.

She’d been working. On his work.

He crouched down and took the pen from her hand, finding and clipping the lid in place. He saw it immediately. Line 84. A decimal out of place. She’d missed it.

He pulled a post-it from the pad on her desk, wrote it down. Clean, neat. Tucked it gently onto the top page.

Decimal, line 84. - B.

He should’ve walked away.

His throat tightened. Something low and hot coiled deep in his gut. He could feel his pulse in his jaw.

Then he moved. Purposeful. Controlled.

He took the blanket from her chair and draped it over her. Gently, carefully. Covered what he could, even if it didn’t stop his imagination from filling in the rest.

She stirred faintly but didn’t wake.

He let himself look once more - just once.

Then stepped out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him with a quiet click.

He didn’t breathe again until he was halfway down the hall.

And he didn’t sleep at all that night. Not because of what he saw - but because of what he felt.

~~~~

You hadn't found it right away. It blended in with your other notes and annotations. Another half a day lost chasing the numbers. Running the formulas. Double-checking. Triple-checking.

You found the mistake before you found the note and it made you furious.

The note made it worse.

Your stomach dropped.

Because it meant he’d seen it.

Seen you -asleep and vulnerable in a way you’d never let him witness if you’d been conscious. If you’d had any say.

And worse he hadn’t said anything.

You carried it with you for hours. Fingertips smudging the ink.

You should’ve let it go, you should’ve ignored it, but the fact that you hadn't seen him at all was making your anger rise.

You were leaving the building via the exit closest to his office so you saw the light on, your anger propelled you to his door.

You didn't knock.

You shoved the door open, wielding the post-it in between your fingers like a weapon.

“What the hell is this?” you demanded, holding it up.

And then stopped.

Your brain short-circuited.

He was shirtless. Leaning against his desk with a bloody towel pressed into his side. The edge of it was dark - soaked through. His skin was streaked with blood.

He looked up, his hair was messy. He looked exhausted. His torso was a map of old scars and new damage. You couldn't look away.

He looked up calmly. “Hey.”

“Don’t hey me - you’re bleeding -”

“I'm fine.”

“I know,” you breathed and then shook your head, regaining control. “I mean, you don't look fine.”

He twisted to look under the towel and winced. “I heal pretty fast, this'll be gone by tomorrow.”

“And if you bleed out before then? Give me that,” you said tightly, already crossing the room. You didn’t wait for permission. You dropped the note, took the towel from his hand, and pressed it firmly against the wound.

You placed your other hand on his back and pressed from both sides, trying to put as much pressure on the wound as you could.

He grimaced but didn’t stop you. His skin was hot beneath your fingers, twitching as you leaned closer.

You swallowed hard.

“Sit still.”

“I was,” he said, low and dry. “Until someone kicked the door in.”

You glared at him.

“You left that note.” He gazed at you, waiting for you to continue. “You saw me.”

He didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”

Your jaw clenched. Fury, shame, something deeper - they all clawed at your skin.

The heat of his body burned under your hands. You could feel every shift of his breathing. Every taut inch of muscle under your fingers.

His exhale was low. Hitched.

You hated how close you were. How your mouth was so dry. How your pulse was hammering.

You hated how much you didn’t want to move away.

“You had no right,” you said, hushed.

“I didn’t want to wake you. You were exhausted.”

“That’s not the point.” Your voice was sharp, but not loud. Close. Controlled.

He didn’t interrupt.

“I would never have let anyone else see me like that. You know that.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Anyone else?”

You ignored his question and continued. “And you still stood there.”

“I did.”

A few seconds of silence passed between you both. Your fingers were still pressed to his side. The towel was warm with his blood. His skin was even warmer beneath it.

Every second your hand stayed there, pressed against his ribs, it got harder to pretend that it was just first aid.

And then it hit you -

He’d seen you at your most vulnerable.

And now, here he was. Bleeding and silent. Letting you see him back.

You knew his file. This wasn’t his lowest point. But it was something unmasked, something raw.

He could so easily have kicked you out of his office, but it was like he didn’t mind that you were seeing him like this - like maybe he wanted you to see him.

Your eyes dropped to his mouth.

You hated the part of yourself that had wanted to be seen.

Hated that he had seen you.

Hated that this meant something.

Your voice dropped, quiet and rough: “That wasn’t yours to look at.”

“No,” he said, just as quietly. “But I looked anyway.”

The silence between them thickened - not angry anymore. Not exactly.

“God, you’re so infuriating.”

“Because I caught your mistake or because you liked that I saw you?”

“You know, you are the most arrogant, reckless jackas-”

“You’re the one standing between my knees with your hand on my stomach, Congresswoman.”

You looked down at your hand sandwiched between you both. You opened your mouth to snap back at him, but he got there first.

“Why do you look like you can’t decide if you want to kill me or fuck me?”

His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.

“Who says I can’t do both?” You glared.

The breath caught between you turned molten. He didn’t move. Neither did you.

But it was there - the slight lean off his body towards yours. The temptation.

The line in the sand.

And just when it felt like one of you might break it…

His phone buzzed.

He didn’t even glance at it. Just muttered a curse under his breath. You could see it in his eyes - he already knew what it meant.

“Don’t you dare answer that.”

“It’s not optional. I have to go,” he said, voice low and rough.

You stepped back before he could and pulled your hands and the towel away from the wound.

“Of course you do.”

“I’m not done.” He said softly, pulling on a t-shirt that had been sitting on the desk waiting for the blood to stop.

“You never are.”

Then he was gone.

And you were alone in his office, pulse still hammering, your fingers stained red.

Tagging: @potatosackk @buckybarnes82 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @stevetonycupcakes @florie1 @crdgn

[sweetverine]

top tier subscriber | logan howlett

warnings : 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn with some plot, reader has an of account, no use of y/n, afab reader, pet names (princess, sweetheart, dolly and angel), oral f! receiving, handjob, p in v, no use of protection, pulling out)?, filming a porn video.

a/n : hii :3 i wrote this because i was tempted by the idea of playing an old man!logan recording a porno ok.. originally, i planned for them to never meet, but oh well, i guess that's it. english isn't my first language, so if there's anything strange, please lmk! pt 1

How did Logan get there? Simple. A small election you made among your most loyal—and well-funded—followers. Whoever put up the most money would get a night with you, oh, and Logan? he wouldn't miss it for anything in the world. The large letters on his phone indicated the indications for participating, 'a night with me, recorded. only for true fans (only available for premium)'.

Without much further ado and with a lot of help from Google, he created a document, sending his application, you know, basic information, name, age, and phone number. He didn't think you'd accept him; subconsciously, he knew he was too old for you. Plus, you probably received many more applications, why choose an old man like him? But to his surprise, He was the damn winner. Was he fantasizing when you contacted him?

you two chatted about the location and payment of the motel and exchanged a few words in a phone call. You still didn't know who this man was except for the information he gave you and his deep voice, which made itself known during the call. You almost didn't accept it, to be honest. He was old... but? He was always the one who usually paid you the most, spending on you more and more. If you could stretch his pocket as far as you could, maybe you could make ends meet more comfortably.

The day arrived, and he hated to admit he was excited about it. What would you wear for him tonight? What would he have to take off? Would you look at him in disgust? These questions ran through his mind over and over again, insecurely, he wasn't like that... insecure. Even so he made sure to trim and tidy up his appearance a bit, he didn't want you to think he was a musty old man, still he wasn't the Logan he used to be, the handsome, young Logan. But he would do his best to try to be him again, for you.

He could feel his cock getting harder as he walked towards hotel room 277. It was really happening, he was going to shoot a porn video, with a pretty thing young enough to be his grandchild, it was embarrassing in many ways he couldn't quite describe. His fist knocked on the door twice, wiping the sweat from his hands on his pants as he waited impatiently.

As agreed, twice touches and it would be James.

You walked towards the door, a little nervous too, almost hesitant to open it. You put your thoughts aside, gathering your courage and finally doing it once and for all. You met an older man, tall and, you could say, somewhat muscular above his clothes. His eyes were definitely mesmerizing, he looked you up and down, it seemed like he was eating you alive. A prominent nose along with a salt and pepper beard. Hmm... James has awakened a new taste in men in you.

“You must be James.” You said, looking at him with a sly smile, still somewhat shy at the intimidating man in front of you.

Logan swallowed. For a second, he stared at you without responding, his eyes trailing over your figure as if he wanted to memorize every part of you, that cute little outfit you choose, god, he can't wait to take it off you.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice deep, a little raspy. “James… though I don’t usually use that name.”

He ran a hand down the back of his neck, uncomfortable, but unable to take his gaze off you. “You can call me Logan.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip, leaning against the door. It was getting a little awkward. “Please come in.. we can start.” You moved inside, letting Logan pass to close the door behind you.

Your shoes clicked against the floor as you approached the bed, adjusting the camera and lights. Silence seemed to reign in the room. Nobody said anything yet until you decided to speak.

“We'll start recording, okay? Remember the limits?” you mumbled as you adjusted the camera.

“Yeah– I remember them.” Logan says, looking at you, to then look away as a small light illuminates the bed.

“Ready, Logan?” your finger about to press the button to start recording.

He simply nodded, looking away, still nervous about it. The camera started recording, the small red flash there as you walked away and started walking in his direction. Appearing in the shot, Logan and you in the foreground, your hands resting on his chest to move up and caress his shoulders as his big hands pull you closer to him with a strong grip on your waist.

You didn't say anything, just looked up with a mischievous smile, licking your lips. Logan understood immediately, moving down a little towards your height to meet your lips for the first time. A simple kiss that slowly heated up. Your hands are buried in his gray hair while your tongue intertwines with his in a desperate manner. His nose brushed against yours sometimes when he rearranged his head.

“So pretty f'me, angel.” He whispered, guiding you to the bed as his lips went to attack your neck, giving some wet kisses on your skin.

Your back rests on the bed as Logan begins to undress you, leaving you only in your underwear. A cute lace lingerie that looked great on you, that colour just does something to him, looking at your chest, he couldn't help but gently squeeze both of your tits over the bra, Admiring how you look. The lace feels so good on his hands, hypnotized by your body, Remembering that you really are real. It's not just one of his fantasies.

Your hands reach out and take off your bra, Leaving your chest bare in front of him, getting more comfortable, his lips wrap around one of your nipples, sucking and gently biting, while with his remaining hand he squeezes the other. You feel yourself melting and starting to do some sounds of pleasure, Enjoying it more than you should. You looked into his eyes as he began to kiss your abdomen, slowly moving down until he reached your panties.

He kissed your clit over the thin fabric before placing his nose on your clothed pussy, inhaling just a little bit of you, oh god, he's so pathetic.

“Are you enjoying your prize?” You whispered, blushing a bit as your panties were quickly removed, leaving you exposed to his deep gaze.

“hell yes, princess.” he whispered, not breaking eye contact as his tongue gave a testing lick on your slit, watching you squirm and moan softly.

“so wet, this turns you on, doesn't it? dirty girl.” Logan rasped, much more confident as he saw how you were slowly melting under his touch. His mouth begins to work on you, slowly licking your folds with the tip of his tongue. Your hand tugged at his hair, trying to keep him there. He lowered his face a little further, his nose level with your clitoris as his slippery tongue delved into your warmth.

“Logan—oh, fuck!” you moaned, arching your back. Throwing your head back, you were really surprised by this situation. You thought Logan would care about his own pleasure, like any other man would, you were so wrong.

It was so good, you had completely forgotten about the camera. Logan's hands were on your thighs, squeezing the tender flesh of them, while he continued to eat you with pleasure. His beard was rasping in the most delicious way, a perfect mixed feeling of burn and pleasure.

You began to feel pressure on your lower abdomen, You were close. Really close. Your hand held Logan there as he began to breathe heavily, your hips rising, rubbing against Logan's face in a way that was inevitable. You could hear him groan as you used his face. Littles pleads escaping from your lips as you move desperately. Hmm, he seemed to know you so well. Helping you reach your peak, your body tensed and your thighs clamped down on his face, holding him there as you rubbed your pussy over his face a few more times.

somewhat sensitive and you slowly came down from your climax, opening your legs and letting it go, completely satisfied about your experience —not yet finished— with Logan. He licked his lips, he could feel his beard a little wet from your fluids but god, they were worth it, and even more so when you tasted as sweet as candy.

“Are you tired already sweetheart? You last much longer in your videos." He teased, starting to remove his clothes. You didn't even notice he was still fully dressed, still very pleased with your recent orgasm.

You were surprised to see his cock, hard and thick, the tip dripping with precum. All for you. You sat down on the bed somewhat languidly, taking it gently in your hands to jerk it slowly as you looked up at him. Oh it wasn't anything like his hand. yours was so soft and warm.

he couldn't help but groan. “You're worth every penny, dolly.” Logan looks down, watching you kiss the tip playfully. You spit on his cock, making everything more sticky and easier to move your hand.

You then pulled away, laying on your back with your legs open. Logan, somewhat impatient, positioned himself between your thighs. He couldn't wait to be inside you, to make his fantasies come true. He took his shaft, passing it through your sensitive and wet folds, stealing a few pleased hums from you.

“Can you take it all for me, princess? Hmm?”he whispered in your ear, earning you to nod your head. slowly, he put his tip inside, pushing his whole cock into you little by little. He couldn't help but throw his head back when he reached the end, you were hugging him so warmly he could cum right now. You moaned at the feeling of it all inside, your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close. His lips find yours again, kissing for a little bit, letting you get used to it.

Logan started to move after a while, his hips meeting yours as he picked a slow pace, trying not to cum, not yet. the sound of skin clashing and your sweet moans fill the room. He was moving hard, his thrusts more erratic now, his breathing ragged against your neck. Your legs were still tangled around his waist, your body sensitive, and sweating, trembling beneath him.

You didn't have the breath left to beg him not to stop, and you didn't need to. He didn't want it to end either.

But finally, he let out a deep, guttural groan that vibrated against your skin as he pulled out of you just in time, pumping his thick member over your abdomen. The warmth of his cum spread across your tummy The warmth of his cum lays across your skin as his body tensed completely, panting and trembling slightly as he collapsed beside you, exhausted.

Both of you were breathing heavily, not saying a word at first. Your eyes looked up at the ceiling, then back at him. He had his eyes closed, still recovering, his chest rising and falling heavily. with a disheveled appearance, disheveled hair and a wet beard.

You remained silent for a few more seconds, letting your frantic heartbeat calm down. Then you smiled, softly.

Maybe... just maybe, you thought as you stared at the still-recording lens, Logan could be more than just a client. Maybe... a new regular collaborator

[gguk-n]

Max Unravelled

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Max accidentally made an account on google plus in 2013. He came across a poetry page and enjoyed reading them. He ends up friends with the poet. He loved the normalcy she brought to his life. He didn't realise when the comfort he felt for her turned into love.

{Max's POV}

2013

I was searching for something on my gmail account when a pop up for google plus came through; without much thought I clicked on it. Some how, I'm yet to figure that out, I ended up with a google plus account. One of the few accounts I got recommended was a poetry and story account. They wrote very eloquently; I could feel the emotions in every word. I started reading all their posts in my spare time and even commenting on the ones I liked. I found my self constantly checking back to their page to see if they posted something. Their poetry was relatable and understandable. I hope they always have a good day since their words always pick me up when I'm down.

The poet I had been enjoying so much is a girl, and her name is Y/N. She's around my age; I guess that's why I related to her work so much. We spoke for the first time ever on her birthday. She made a post about it being her birthday so I wished her. She was sad about not being able to enjoy her birthday, I felt bad for her so we talked for a while until dad called me to practise. That was the start of our friendship. We ended up talking on google plus a lot. We shared the same sense of humour and best of all, she didn't know about racing. It was like a breath of fresh air to not talk about racing. She doesn't even seem interested in it; so I can live as Max for a while now.

My birthday was shit but talking to her made everything better. I can't believe I got excited about talking to someone and that someone made me feel good even on one of my shittiest days. She's one of the nicest people I've had the pleasure of talking to. I really do wanna talk to her on phone, typing everything I want to say out feels tedious.

2014

I've gotten busier since this year with Formula 3. We barely get to talk anymore. She did send me her number and we chat on Whatsapp whenever we can. But obviously it is not the same. I've suggested talking on call a few time and she finally agreed; I just need to find the perfect time to get away from everything to talk to her. I felt so nervous to talk to her for some reason, what if she thought I was weird and didn't enjoy talking to me? What if she heard me and decided I wasn't fun? What if we had nothing to talk about? I called her while sitting in my driver's room, she picked up quite quickly after 2 rings to be exact.

Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Why would I say that? That sounds so fucking creepy, I face palmed myself so hard. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. She thinks I have a nice voice, do I? Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. I could hear people outside the driver's room. I quickly locked the door before answering her question. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! Did she just call me her best friend? I've never had a best friend before.

We ended up talking on calls a lot more. I would have her contact ringer saved with a separate ringtone so that I would know to answer it. She usually called at reasonable times, where ever I travelled as if she knew my schedule.

2015

I got signed with RedBull Racing's junior team, making me the youngest driver. It was such a surreal feeling. But this also meant I couldn't talk to Y/N as much as I wished I could. Training and the races kept me very busy. But she was very understanding and would always welcome me back, no matter how long I was gone for.

2021

The first time I'm regretting not telling what I do to Y/N was today when I won my first World Championship. I was surrounded by my team, my girlfriend and my family as I got out of the car after I finished P1 at Abu Dhabi but it felt strange; like I was missing someone. I wish I could share this win, the biggest in my life yet, with the person who makes me feel so special yet so myself.

When I asked her about Formula One, she didn't know about, she didn't even know the prominent figures. So, I wasn't as worried about her finding out but I did worry now; since my win was controversial according to the media. However, she never asked. Was she really unaware or playing dumb? I wasn't sure if I should be grateful I get to be just Max or sad that I can't share a huge part of my life with my best friend.

2023

Y/N and I have been friends for the past 10 years. Time really flies. I've gotten a lot better at balancing my personal and work life. Y/N is my well kept secret; like I'm the only one who knows her. She moved out for college and we've only video called since. She is still funny and still writes. I think it's so cool of her to stay passionate about what she loves and keeping at it. She loves my cats more than I love them sometimes, she get's so excited when I send pictures of them. She says they cheer her up and that Jimmy and Sassy are her virtual pets. They loved her too honestly, they would always recognise when she was on call and jump into my lap or the phone to see or hear her. She still doesn't know what I did for a living; we've kept that a 'secret' you could say. But really I just didn't know how to tell her I was a Formula One driver and a 2 time World Champion.

Today was like any other day, I hadn't spoken to Y/N at all. Whenever I called her, I would usually close/lock the door depending on who was at home. My girlfriend didn't know about Y/N. I didn't even know how to bring it up, honestly. I sat down on my SimRacing chair after I switched the livestream off. Her phone rang for a few times and then stopped ringing but she didn't answer the call. I tried again thinking maybe she was busy or didn't hear it. I called a couple times before texting her; no reply. I was freaking out. This was the first time in 10 years that she hasn't answered my calls. She won't even reply to my messages. I found myself pacing around the house. The door to the room opened to my girlfriend's daughter standing in front of me, "Maxie, why are you walking in circles?" She asked after observing me for sometime. "It's nothing" I said, trying to calm myself down more than give a reply to her question. All these horrible thoughts swirled through my mind; what if she was in an accident and no one knows? What if she got robbed? What if she hurt herself and can't get help? What was I supposed to do? I didn't even know where she lived. I just couldn't think straight. My hair was a mess with how much I was running my fingers through it, a few stands coming along when I almost pulled them out of frustration.

After 7 hours, she replied to my text. I had almost given up hope, but she said that she was fine and that her phone was about to die. I felt relieved knowing that she was ok. But the text was so out of character for her. I texted her everyday after that in hope of talking to her. We always spoke everyday and it had been years since we didn't speak for so long. Almost every text was left on delivered. I had a race this weekend which I won and went out to celebrate with everyone because they wanted me to tag along. I didn't see the text Y/N sent me a while after the race since I was at the club. I only saw it when I got home. As soon as I saw it, I called her. She answered after a few rings.

Max- Schat, how have you been? Haven't heard a word from you in days. You could clearly hear the worry in my voice. Y/N- I've been busy, school year ending and stuff. Why didn't you sleep yet? Max- You know my sleep schedule is non existent. Y/N- Yeah, I guess I do. What did she mean by that? Her voice seemed hoarse, was she sick?Y/N- You know how I do freelance editing Max- You've told me about it Y/N- The latest author I'm working with is a sports author. I was hoping you could help me since you are a walking encycylopedia. Max- sure schat, but what's up with you? You know I'm always there for you Y/N- Yeah it nothing, just stressed. Max- Take off, you deserve it I wish she took care of herself instead of working so hard without breaks. Y/N- The summer break is here soon, I'll be fine. So about that author... Max-Yeah, what sport does she write for? Y/N- Formula One. I don't really like reading lengthy articles and I'm sure one article wouldn't do a sport any justice. I felt the ground slip from under my feet. My palms had gotten sweaty suddenly. Max- You did not go through google yet, right? (I stammered out) Y/N- Oh no, what do you take me for? I got excited to learn about something new. Do you know who the reigning champion is? I felt like I was about to lose everything. I didn't know what to say, my mouth was dry. No matter what I said, I don't think I could fix this situation. Y/N- Some dude named Max Verstappen. You guys share the same first name. He has 2 cats too; named Jimmy and Sassy, who look exactly like your bengals. I mean he even looks like you, with horrible sleep schedule just like you. He even sounds like you. There was horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and my lungs felt like there was no air in them. Watching her tear up was the worst feeling.

Max- Schatje, I can explain. Y/N- You don't have to Max. I never asked you what you did. You don't have to explain anything. Max- I wanted to tell you, it just never came up in conversation. Y/N- I get it, it's difficult to tell your friend who has amounted to nothing that you are the World Driver's Champion, best of the best in Formula One. Max- Y/N, it's nothing like that. You're great, you're kind, you're funny. She laughed, but that stung my heart for the first time when her laugh was my favourite sound in the world. Y/N- Those are character traits I possess, they don't describe my career goals or achievements. I know I work 2 jobs to stay afloat while you make millions, I know I wish I was an author and not their editor, I know you probably thought I was too stupid to understand your rich and fancy world. Max- No, no, you're so talented. I've read your work and I'm sure the right publication will pick your work up. Y/N- I got rejected for the sixth time today. All of this is fine except that you lied to me about being single while having a girlfriend for years and having the happy family you dreamt off. You didn't have to introduce me to her; not like my boyfriends met you. But it would've been nice if I knew. Max- It just never came up. (I held my head in shame) Y/N- I...we joked about setting you up with someone all the time. Please don't. I get it, we didn't tell each other about work goals or what we did as a job but personal life; I literally told you about every guy I've ever been with. I felt bad telling you thinking you were single. I feel stupid right now. I wanted to reach out and wipe her tears but I couldn't. Max- I'm sorry,Y/N. I promise I won't hide anything anymore. Please, don't cry. Y/N- My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I majored in literature in Uni and now work as a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I'm trying to get my book published soon. I broke up with my boyfriend 2 months ago. This fucking hurt, everything she said and the way she said it. Max- Please don't do this. Y/N- I believe at least one of us should be honest. Max- Let me fix this. Y/N- Don't worry. There's nothing to fix. Max- Please don't say that. You mean a lot me. (I felt tears in my eyes.) Y/N- Me too. That's why, I need time. I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Max- Please, I can't lose you. I felt like my world was crashing. Y/N- You won't. I'll always be there for you. I just need time. Take care Max I was crying as she said it. Max- Bye, take care Y/N. I'll always be here. And the screen blacked out, I could see my reflection on the screen, tears streaming down my face.

After I was able to clear my head I texted her telling her that I would always be there for her and I would like to clear up the misunderstanding when she's ready. I spent the next few months thinking about her. It was starting to affect my relationship. I couldn't really give my girlfriend time when my mind was occupied with thoughts of Y/N. When my girlfriend brought it up how we were growing apart; I had a fight with her. I don't know what came over me, but not talking to Y/N or not knowing what was up with her was making it very difficult for me to focus on anything. The fighting became a constant after that. I didn't understand why she couldn't let me be. I missed my friend but she wouldn't get it.

I was SimRacing when Y/N's name popped up on my phone asking me to call her. I guess she was ready to talk it out. I really wished that this wasn't the end of our friendship. I really hoped that we could get over the misunderstanding and still be friends. I told the team I had some work and called her immediately. She answered like always; I waited for her to speak with baited breath. She started talking and we cleared everything up. I apologised for hiding the truth from her. I told her how much of a constant she was for me in my ever hectic life; how talking to her made everything better. She listened to me, I listened to her and then finally asked her to come to my home race. I wanted to meet her. I couldn't live knowing that I had the resources but didn't meet the one person that mattered to me the most. She was hesitant at first but I offered to get her the tickets and insisted on her joining me at the biggest race of the season for me and finally she agreed. I was over the moon. As soon as we ended the call, I sent her the tickets. I found myself counting down the days to the race for the first time.

I was waiting for her at the airport when she got here. My heart was beating very fast as I waited for her to come out. When I saw her; she was beautiful, shorter than I expected but she looked cute with her bag in one hand and a back pack on her shoulder, her hair in a low bun, a small smile graced her feature. I don't think I've noticed anyone with such detail ever before. Our conversation flowed easily. It didn't feel like it was the first time we were meeting. I dropped her at the hotel and went off to do media duty's at the paddock when I came back she was still asleep, traveling must've tired her out. She got dressed while I waited for her to get ready, even giving my 2 cents on what she should wear. She looked gorgeous, I couldn't help myself, staring at her. The black satin dress hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair flowed down her back, the jewellery sparkling against her body. We went to have dinner at a fancy dutch restaurant. She loved the food especially the apple tart. The moan she let out as she devoured the dessert made blood rush downwards. I found my cheeks heating up, thankfully the whole place was dimly lit. We walked around for a while after the meal, she made fun of my name but I couldn't care less. I apologised and she accepted it and hugged me. Her arms were soft and the embrace warm. I found myself wrapping my arms around her, my face buried in her neck. I was scared I was gonna lose her, forever. I've never been scared to lose anything but a race until now and the thought of not having her in my life seemed scary. She consoled me and we headed back to the hotel.

The rest of the weekend was uneventful except for my girlfriend being pissed; she fought with about Y/N. I don't get what her problem is, she's just a friend I've known since forever. I'm just showing her around. I was giving interviews when I saw her talking to Lando, I saw them laughing along in the corner of my eye. It made me feel strange, there was this feeling in the pit of my stomach and I didn't like it. When I got back, Lando had left since it was his turn. She found Lando cute and it irked me, I was annoyed hearing her ask me to set her up with him. We got back to RedBull hospitality when my girlfriend asked me to talk to her, I left with her reluctantly leaving Y/N with Checo.

"Listen Max, I get it, she's your childhood friend and all, but it's so weird how she suddenly cropped up when I or for that matter any one knew nothing about her. People are saying stuff about us since she stepped on the paddock and the way you are dragging her along." my girlfriend spoke. "What are people saying? I will not stand any slander against her" I cut her off. She laughed dryly. "WOW, they are saying stuff about us, Max, us, that you are cheating on me with her. You've been so distant for months until a month ago, I didn't know what went wrong and you wouldn't talk either." she said running a hand through her hair. "It's nothing really. She just knows me as Max and not Max Verstappen and that's why I'm closer to her. Nothing more." I said. "It's pointless talking to you" she said turning around. "If we're done, I'm leaving, Y/N doesn't know anyone here except me." I said leaving for the door. She huffed before she followed me out. Y/N looked worried about what was going on between me and my girlfriend but I calmed her down and we spent the day together. She tagged along during quali too. I saw her praying before quali, it made my heart swell. I was starting pole and we spent the night watching a movie even though Y/N wanted me to rest before the race, I wanted to make the most of the little time we had.

Y/N hugged me before the race wishing me. I wanted to win so bad, I'd won here twice before but this was different. I wanted to win in front of her. I raced like a mad man and then I heard it. I crossed first and my happiness knew no bounds; knowing she was watching. I got out of the car and immediately ran to her; hugging her. It was cathartic. Y/N said my girlfriend looked annoyed, but I couldn't care less. I watched my girlfriend leave, annoyed. When I received the trophy at the top step of the podium knowing she was watching me from below made it so much more worth it. Y/N wanted to go out to celebrate my win and I wasn't one to say no. I went back to the hotel to get cleaned up and ready for the night.

I was greeted by my girlfriend in the room, it was dimly lit as she was sat at the corner of the bed with tears streaming down her face. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT MAX?" she screamed at me. "Am I a fucking joke? I let it slide, you said you were friends but the first person you go to after winning your race was her, what do you think people were whispering when you did that?" she said in between sobs. I didn't get what she was saying. "Do you like her?" she asked. "What? We're friends" I stated. She shook her head, "No, Max, you aren't. The way she looks at you is how I look at you. The way you look at her" She cried, "You've never looked at me like that" she lamented. "It's nothing like that" I began. "You should've respected me at the very least and broken up with me if you liked someone else, I'm not gonna be some girl's place holder till you can have her." she cried out. "You're not a place holder for her" I said. "Feels exactly like that" she said wiping her tears. I felt nothing my 2 year long relationship might be ending and I didn't care. I didn't even try to correct her, did I really like her? Was Y/N really more important to me? "We're through Verstappen, if you can't even fight for us, I'm not about to fight for us" she sighed dejected. I walked towards the bathroom to wash up while she packed up to leave. When I got out she was gone. I went to pick Y/N up.

She kept asking me about my girlfriend but I never told her that we broke up. I didn't want her to feel responsible for my decision. At the club, she got close to everyone pretty quickly. She was unstoppable, downing one drink after another. I hadn't touched alcohol since I was driving. The others kept handing her drinks much to my dismay. She asked me to come dance with her but I had the others to look after too. She was busy dancing surrounded by too many guys, one of them going as far as to touch her and grind against her. All I saw was red, I bid the guys good bye and stormed the dance floor to drag a reluctant Y/N with me; I ended up carrying her out on my shoulder. She wasn't very happy, screaming and hitting me till I put her down. She puked as soon as I put her down and joked about missing my expensive car, I didn't really mind if she hadn't since she was more important than the car. I got her medicine and left them at her side after putting her to bed.

We spent the next few days after the race sight seeing. Y/N brought up my girlfriend a few time and I ended up avoiding her. When we were cuddling while watching Barbie I felt my heart beating out of my chest as she scooted closer to grab tissue. When her hand brushed against my skin, it burnt and a weird feeling erupted in my chest. She seemed completely unaware of how she was making me feel. We fell asleep on the couch that night.

I wasn't able to avoid the girlfriend question any longer and told her that we broke up without making any eye contact on the way to drop her to the airport. My eyes stung and there was a lump in my throat; I wasn't sure it was because of my girlfriend or Y/N. I bid her farewell, she would turn back towards me to wave after every few steps; my eyes were blurry after sometime trying to prevent the tears from falling. I ended up crying after she left.

All the races after, I ended up going shopping after or before every race to collect some trinkets or stuff that was special to that place and mailing it to her with small notes attached. She would graciously open them in front of me on video call; the smile she gave me the first time she received was unparalleled. It made my stomach turn over. I wanted to make her smile every chance I got. That's how I ended up sending her a package after every race from every country until I got reprimanded by her for the excessive amount of gifts. She asked me not to send one after every race and stick to one or two in total; I was forced to agree to that request.

We were planning on spending Christmas and New Year together; she wanted to leave after Christmas but I was able to convince her to stay until I had to leave for pre-season training. I couldn't wait for the season to end and to spend the year end with Y/N. We celebrated me winning the championship on video call; even though I had hoped she could be present in person but it wasn't possible with her schedule. This championship felt better than the last two since I was able to celebrate it with her. 2021 me wouldn't believe me right now.

Y/N flew in as soon as winter break started for her. I had cleaned up the house as much as possible. I had told my cats about Y/N visiting who seemed excited. I picked her up from the airport and when we got home the cats were very excited to meet her; a lot more receptive than the other guests I've had over. We spent the next few days going to places and the Monaco GP circuit. She cribbed about walking the entire time we walked the path. It made me laugh.

The night before Christmas we fell asleep on the couch cuddling; I hadn't slept this well in a very long time. When I woke up, Y/N was no where to be seen. I sat up waiting for her to return when she came back, she looked so cute in her jumper and shorts with her hair a mess. We opened up presents after some time. She had gotten me a Sid plushie, an ugly sweater and perfume. I got her a Formula One book with my face, a coffee mug and a pendant. I wanted to get her more stuff but I was sure she would make me return it if she saw every thing. I think the house would be over run with the amount of stuff I wanted to get her. Then she brought the matching sweater she got with me; I put it on immediately. I wanted to match with her all the time. We had a bit of back and forth on the dinner but agreed on Turkish kabab.

New Year came too quickly, which meant Y/N would be leaving soon. We went clubbing on New Year eve. She didn't drink like the last time we were at the club but made friends with some of the guys there. Having a social butterfly for a friend was a bad idea. We counted the time down to midnight as the clock struck 12 and I turned towards her to celebrate I saw she was kissing one of the guys she had befriended when we entered. If the club was quite you could hear my heart shatter. That's when I realised that all these weird feeling and all the times I couldn't stop thinking about her was because I liked her, no scratch that, I loved her. I felt my heart constrict when she turned towards me and hugged me later. I didn't want to talk about it, this would ruin our friendship.

All I could think about was how it felt to watch her kiss another man. I hated it, the worst feeling, worse than DNFing or not winning. I hated knowing another man could touch her and feel her. I wasn't even sure how to bring it up since what were we if not just friends. I put myself into training for the upcoming season but those feelings I felt when she kissed another man were still fresh in my head and I couldn't get rid of them even if I tried.

I was able to convince her to join me during her spring and summer break. We had fun, I loved having her waiting for me at the end of the race. I didn't really enjoy all the media questions that had cropped up about Y/N when she was seen with me, before or after the race. During my summer break, I spent it at her place. When I got there, it was a small apartment; but it had a homely feel. She would cook food for me and we would watch movies; I had a few commitments with the team and would leave for some time but then be back. It was so nice to have some one to come home to. When she was having her book launch, I went to meet her at her launch with a bouquet of flowers. "Congratulations" I said while handing her the flowers and giving her a hug. "Thank you" she replied, a smile playing on her lips. We had celebratory dinner after. Immediately after that, we were on the news. It read that I had a girlfriend, she kept apologising but it didn't matter. It made me a little warm, I'm not sure what emotions I felt hearing people speculate that she was my girlfriend.

I flew back to Netherland for the race early, she would only be joining me on the race day due to work. It dampened my mood but there wasn't much I could do about it. She flew in the morning of the race; it made my day watching her walk out of the airport. We talked all the way to the hotel where she got changed and we headed to the paddock. I had thought it through; after the qualifying, I had planned on telling her how I felt. I was gonna win this race and confess to her. Knowing that I can't hold her while someone else can was eating away at me and I wanted to take the chance before it slipped away from me.

I started the race P2 and finished it at P2. In the final laps, the only thoughts running through my head were, I really wanted to ask her out as a race winner, I can't do that now. She probably doesn't even like me like that, did I really want to ruin everything I had with her. I stumbled out of the car towards her, a big smile on her face. And suddenly I said it; "I wanted to ask you out as a race winner" emotions were running high. She insisted me to continue and when I did, she agreed to go out with me. I was over the moon, my head was reeling. This race ending was not what I hoped for but Y/N's answer was something I really was hoping for.

She waited for me in the driver's room. I couldn't help but not touch her. Her skin against mine send electric shocks through me, I couldn't help but smile at the feeling of her against me. I wanted to have this feeling for the rest of the life. I wanted to have her next to me; it took me a while to figure that out but now that I had, I didn't want to let go. I loved her and I wanted her.

We were both in the hotel room at the end of night in each other’s embrace, "Can't believe you're my boyfriend" she exclaimed. "Can't believe you're my girlfriend either." I exclaimed back. "I've liked you since I've known you" she mumbled. "What?" I asked shocked. "Yeah, I've always had a crush on you. Teenage me would lose it right now if she saw" she said. "I'm sorry it took me so long" I muttered pressing a kiss against her lips. "better late then never" she laughed wrapping her arms around my neck, flipping me to straddle my hips. She bent down to kiss me again.

I could spend the rest of my life like this, if it meant I could have her forever.

Hope you had fun. Thank you for enjoying the story!!

[emeraldserenade]

It's Been 5 Years ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Adjusting to life after you had just disappeared with half of the living population took some time, but Joaquín seemed to be very helpful

tw: fem!reader, limited use of y/n, reader speaks Spanish, bad Spanish (idk Spanish, I use google translate), none?, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

So I hit page 10 out of 34 on the upcoming story. But I still want to keep up my at least one post a day schedule, so have this. This idea has been running it's way through my head and it didn't come out how I wanted it to but I still think it's good.

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Joaquín was in his relatively new apartment, he had been there for a few months, when the people who had just disappeared reappeared. It was jarring, especially for the two of you.

"Um, hello?" You were confused, one moment you were holding your cat and walking around your apartment getting ready to leave and the next, your cat was gone and everything looked different.

"Holy shit," the man jumped up from the couch and you took a step back. "Wait, I'm not going to hurt you, let me explain," he held his hands up.

"Uh, ok?" You wrapped your arms around your middle, trying to sooth yourself.

"5 years ago this alien named Thanos made half the living population disappear," the man stated and you slowly nodded, you realized almost right away you must have been apart of those that disappeared.

"So, it's been 5 years?" You questioned, you watched as he nodded. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to my cat, would you?" You took a chance.

"Actually, I would. The neighbor, Ms. Kaur, took your cat in. She told me all about how you would be heartbroken to know that your cat was all alone," the man told you and you felt a rush of relief.

"Uh," you paused for a moment and looked around. "Can I ask you a few favors? Nothing big, I promise," you assured him.

"Yeah, go ahead," you watched as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, firstly, can I know your name?"

"Oh," he uncrossed his arms and held his right one out to you. "Joaquín Torres," you shook his hand and gave him your name.

"Also, can I borrow your phone?"

"Yeah, let me grab it," he moved to the kitchen. "I don't know if you need the bathroom but you can go use it," he called from the kitchen you and nodded even though he couldn't see you.

"Oh, thank you!" You called from your way down the hallway and to the extra bathroom. You figured he didn't want you in your, his, bedroom. When you came back he was sitting on the couch again and you hesitantly walked closer.

"You don't have to stand," he told you and handed you his, unlocked, phone.

"Thanks," you awkwardly sat down a little bit away from him and punched in one of the numbers you knew by heart.

One ring, two rings, three rings, then finally someone picked up. "Hola?" You almost sobbed hearing the voice of your father

"Hola, papá," you heard your own voice wobble but it was nothing compared to the full sob of your mother's you could hear.

"Y/n, de verdad eres tú?" Your father questioned. Is that really you?

"Sí, lo es. ¿Alguien más desapareció?" Yes, it is. Did anyone else disappear?

"No, solo eras tú. Ay, tu madre y yo nos alegramos mucho de que hayas vuelto. Por favor, ven a visitarnos pronto," your father told you and you nodded. No, it was just you. Oh, your mother and I are so happy you're back. Please, come visit us soon

"Lo haré, solo necesito aclarar algunas cosas. ¿De acuerdo?" I will, I just need to figure some things out. Ok?

"Ok, te amamos," your father told you. Ok, we love you

"Yo también te amo," you hung up the phone and handed it back to Joaquín. I love you too.

"I uh," you awkwardly looked at Joaquín. "I should probably see if I can find a hotel," you went to stand but Joaquín's words stopped you.

"Or you can stay here, I mean, it technically was, is, your apartment. There's the extra room anyway," Joaquín offered and you looked down at yourself. You suddenly felt grateful that you were about to leave, you had your purse and some of your favorite clothes of your on.

"If you're sure because I can totally go and get a hotel room," Joaquín cut you off.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Plus, I have a feeling finding a hotel room will be extra hard tonight," Joaquín joked and you laughed.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You had been staying with Joaquín for a few weeks now, you had settled into the guest bedroom and found out that not only did Ms. Kaur save Sushi, but she also saved all your belongings. The furniture, other than the standing mirror your grandmother gave you and the nice hanging jewelry holder you thrifted, got sold. You weren't too upset, you had all your clothes and things anyway.

You were sitting on the couch on hold with the bank while watching Joaquín play some video game. You found out a few days ago that they froze all your cards when you were offically declared dusted. While you appreciate them worrying about your finances, it was a pain in the ass to get unfrozen.

"Miss, are you still there?" Asked the female voice you'd been talking to a few moments ago.

"Yes, I am!" You sat up straighter and the raised volume of your voice caused Joaquín to look over at you.

"We have unfrozen all your accounts, sorry for taking so long," the woman told you and you smiled in relief.

"Ok, thank you!" You hung up after goodbyes and did a small happy dance. "Dios mío, I thought that was going to go on forever," you flopped back against the couch and focused your attention back on the screen.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Joaquín, are you even helping me look for apartments?" You looked up from your computer screen at Joaquín, his laptop was open but he was hitting his keyboard more than he would if he was looking.

"If I lie and say yes, would you believe me?" Joaquín questioned and you sighed.

"You act like you want me to stay here," you closed your laptop and moved to sit on the couch next to him, he was on the Minecraft world you two had started. "You said you wouldn't build without me!" You gasped, he was building more of the house you two had started together.

"I got bored, forgive me, Angel," he gave you his puppy eyes and you stared him down, already knowing that he had won.

"Fine, I forgive you," you huffed.

"Good, and I do want you to stay here," he added on and you looked at him weirdly as he saved and exited the game.

"Why?"

"I like you," he said it so casually that you had to remind yourself that he meant as a friend, and that he didn't reciprocate your crush.

"Careful, you might give me the wrong impression," you joked, trying to hide the truth in your words.

"Which would be?" Joaquín looked at you with, what you thought was, genuine curiosity and you mentally kicked yourself.

"Nothing, doesn't matter," you told him, getting up to leave. He grabbed your hand and pulled you back onto the couch before you even took a step causing you to fall with more backwards momentum you were accounting for, and landing with your back pressed into his chest. You just relaxed into his hold, knowing that if he really wanted to you wouldn't be able to move.

Joaquín said nothing as you two sat there, you didn't say anything either. You just sat there in comfortable quiet, you slowly started to drift off and right before you fully succumbed to you heard Joaquín lowly mumble in your ear, but you couldn't quite figure it out.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

It didn't take long until you gave up apartment hunting, the landlord from your building was also very nice. She let you and Joaquín add your name to the lease without much of a hassle.

"Joaquín, you do have plans?" You saw he was dressed nicely.

"Yeah," he told you and you suddenly felt very stupid for even asking. "With you, go get ready, please," he looked away from the mirror where he was messing with his hair to look you in the eyes.

"Me? Where? Why?"

"You ask too many questions Angel, just go," he gave you a smile and you relented.

You two ended up going to dinner, a movie, then to ice cream. You were confused on why he was until he took you back home.

"I like you, a lot, and," you cut Joaquín off with a hug and a quick kiss.

"I like you too," you told him, watching as any of his nerves disappeared.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

DP X DC AU Danny & The Little Dead Girl

(title pending lol, Danny and Curare adventures pt 2!) Pt 1 here My AU art

__________________________________________

Monday comes, as it is won't to do, and Danny has to go to school which means the baby halfa has to come to school too.

" ok, so, one rule for today, big rule, you gotta be quiet in class. Uh-"

Danny pulls his phone out of his pocket as their bus hits a pot hole. Sitting right at the front means they catch the momentum first and he has to hold Curaré against his side lest she go flying into the aisle.

A couple voices grumble behind them at the jostling as Danny gets his text to speech open.

" Necessitas ser quieto en clase. ¿Entiendes?" The Google robot lady voice translates for him.

Curaré blinks at him from behind her little paper face mask and looks from the phone to him curiously.

This is the game they've been playing since last night, Danny says something in English robo lady repeats it in Spanish.

Danny doesn't know if Curaré understands how the phone speaks or even that it does but she's giving him her favorite little blank expression so he assumes she gets it. At least, she hasn't really disagreed or disobeyed anything he's asked of her yet so...not gonna look that gift horse in the mouth Danny boy!

..

School goes well, mostly.

They get through the metal detectors and bag checks at the front entrance just fine. The security guards barely glance at Curaré once they confirm she isn't hiding a Glock or something under her shirt. Which it's kinda sad to know gun control is a cross-dimensional American problem but it's on brand if nothing else Danny thinks.

They get to first period without stopping at Danny's locker and settle down in two desks by the back door. This is Danny's usual spot, well usual as of a month ago, it's mostly empty back here now but Danny used to have a seat partner.

(A seat partner who had a kind of shady tweaker vibe that Danny would have been worried about but that kid went home early one day and never came back so....it's Curaré's seat now.)

The little dead girl looks even littler sat in the desk-chair combo, she can barely see over the top. Danny stacks three dictionaries under her for a boost then he gets her set up with some pencils and paper and the single highlighter he found on the floor his first day here.

Curaré seems vaguely interested in his offerings ,after Danny shows her how to use them to mark the page, and starts creating cautious marks of her own.

She keeps glancing back up at Danny as if to confirm that this is still fine? And he nods his head every time trying to be encouraging as it becomes obvious that nobody taught this kid to write inside Fosters Home for Real life Assassins. Which Danny thinks is poor planning on there part because really? If your Assassin can't write how the fuck were they supposed to leave ominous threatening warnings? Or fake suicide notes? Or any number of written props to flesh out a cover story.

Whatever, obviously the assassins raising Curaré sucked ass all around so he can't say he's surprised but he is majorly disappointed.

As the bell rings for first period a whole slew of teens rush in ahead of the teacher Mr. Berk. Simple guy, grey beard, coke bottle glasses, smells like Vics vapor rub, the works.

He's like the most chilled out version of Mr. Lancer ever so he's alright in Danny's books. Plus he only has one "rule", as long as your butt is in your seat by the time he calls your name for attendance he won't mark you late. In Gotham, where everyone and their brother has enough late marks from shitty public transportion to get detention, it's a pretty sweet rule.

So Mr. Berk takes attendance like usual and only pauses on Danny and Curaré in the back for a brief moment.

Curaré stops drawing and stares down Mr. Berk like he's the T rex from Jurassic park. Frozen in place and without breaking eye contact. He stares back at her completely unphased.

" A small visitor then?" He says.

Danny nods. " My sister"

" Mhm" Mr. Berk says already moving on to the next student on his roster.

Danny breathes out huge sigh of relief, that was so much easier then he expected.

They more or less repeat this exchange the whole day. Mondays suck ass because it's one of the only days Danny actually has all 6 periods, but they make it through 1st, 2nd, and nutrition unscathed.

By lunch time Danny thinks they might actually be home free, if no one is gonna bring up the whole freaking child tagging along with him then he can probably just bring her with him everyday.

Maybe he can find her some work books and she can learn the alphabet? And addition? That's like on track for 4 year olds right? Danny can't remember being 4 but that feels right to him. He will educate the child in his care like the responsible almost adult he is. She will go to college!

At lunch Danny sits them at the back of the school right next to the teachers lounge because it's mostly deserted.

In Danny's exprience the best place to hide is in plain sight. He's been sitting here everyday since he enrolled himself and the teachers have never noticed him. Their way too busy trying to get any kind of break from teaching high schoolers to be concerned.Which Danny is greatful for because he has broken the rule about using his cell phone at lunch 50 times at this point.

Listen he has to do universe research when he has access to wifi! Which he only does at school. The administration should be glad he's using his lunch period to educate himself really.

So they eat by the lounge. Danny has Curaré face away from the door so she can take off her face mask and eat unencumbered.The cut on her face is still gnarly, it looks an almost enflamed purple as it tries it's best to heal.

Danny had given Curaré a little immuno-boost with his own ecto the night before to try to speed up her healing factor. But like any Halfa, basically just Danny's personal experience, you have to nourish the ghost half and the human half in equal parts to heal all the way.

It's not until home room, period 6/7, that the metaphorical straw breaks the metaphorical camels back. or the real straw to the metaphorical camel? Did camels even carry straw? where would it go? Between there humps? Not important Fenton!

Home room was a grade A disaster.

Mr. Perez, Danny's kind of ancient home room teacher, who was for almost all intents and purposes blind, had a freaking nose for trouble. It's like he could sniff out vapes and cell phones as soon as they hit the stale class air. Danny thought this would be the easiest class by far, Mr. Perez wouldn't even see Curaré let alone smell her.

And at first it seems like he doesnt, Mr. Perez takes attendance and skips right over Danny and Curaré with no fanfare.

Danny thinks that's the end of it and starts to breathe easy until 15 minutes before the final bell when Mr. Perez' TA asks him to step into the hallway with her for a second.

Danny generally liked Mr. Perez's TA, her name was Sabrina Kahn and she was the kind of girl Jazz would have hung out with.Straight laced, wore argyle cardigans, read books, the smart sort. She looked Jazz's age too, maybe 21ish and she always rolled her eyes when people gave dumb answers in class.

She looks a little embarrassed to be speaking to Danny which immediately sets him on edge.

" It's okay that you brought your little sister today but, I'm sorry, you won't be able to do that again. A bunch of your teachers made complaints with the front office and Mr. Perez got a call about it ..."

Sabrina had always been nice to him and now she was about to ruin his whole week.

" But Ms. Kahn-" Danny started.

She gave him a sympathetic look " Lemme guess, your parents can't take her to work so this was the next best option?"

Danny closed his mouth and nodded, that was actually a much better lie then he was gonna tell, thank you Ms. Kahn. ( But also Boooooo curse you Ms. Kahn!)

" Here, I know it can be hard to find childcare for metas, especially ones as ah-vibrant as your sister. My brother had the same trouble with my nephew."

Sabrina hands Danny a flyer, it's still warm from the printer, it looks like it's just a screenshot of an email.

"Thanks?"

The TA rolls her eyes, wow a lot like Jazz then.

" It's the address to that daycare and a referral. They only take kids by word of mouth, they're kind of... off the books. But their good people! I hope they can help you Danny."

The paper is on off yellow, as Ms.Kahn heads back into homeroom Danny feels all his hope go with her. Shit, what was he gonna do now? He looks through the little glass window in the door to the back where Curaré sits, she's already watching him. He tries to smile at her, be reassuring, he's not sure it works.

......

When the bell finally rings Danny picks Curaré up and puts her on his hip to avoid her being crushed by the rush of high schoolers who stampede out the door in front of them.

The flyer from Ms. Kahn feels like it's burning a hole through his pocket as they ride the bus towards the Narrows.

Danny cased the house from the flyer with maps street view as well as he could. It showed a skinny sublet house across from a small strip mall and laundrymat.

Inconspicuous sure, maybe even innocent looking but well...you could never tell in Gotham, all the buildings looked sort of evil by default. It was probably because of the gargoyles and the general low level stink fog that seemed to always be out.

The big city™ really made Danny miss the suburbs of Amity Park more then just the regular gut wrenching home sickness. Oh what'd he'd give to take a deep breath of air and not inhale the smell of piss when he walked down the street.

They get off the bus at the corner a block from the daycare.

Danny holds Curaré's hand which makes for slow going but seems like the right thing to do. She's never wandered off but Danny didn't want to give her the opportunity to either.

As he helped her climb the three short stairs up to the house Danny was suddenly hit with a wave of panic.

What the fuck am I doing? Am I really gonna take care of this freaking Halfa ghost baby for the next 18 years? Im not even an adult! I work weekends at BatBurger for minimum wage WTF?

Danny's hands began to sweat and his stomach cramped. Oh fuck, here was the existential crisis he'd been waiting for since he first decided to take Curaré from the leagues super secret baby basement.

Oh shit he couldn't breathe, what was he gonna do! OH fuck think!

What would jazz do? Call child services and offer psychological support. Not Uber helpful in this case Danny didn't know the first thing about psychology and Gotham CPS was actual prison.

What would Sam do? Assassin babies are hella counter culture but maybe find a cool rich eccentric family to adopt them? Nope, not gonna work Danny only knew one eccentric rich girl and she was a whole dimension away. FUCK THINK FENTON!

What would Tucker do? In this situation ask Google, homeschooling is big these days so maybe if you leave her in the apartment while your gone with an iPad-

" Hey you alright there dude, can I help you?"

Danny choked on the end of his anxiety panic badbadbad spiral and looked up.

The front door to the house was open and just inside the threshold stood a younger teen, maybe 16? With the kind of fade haircut Tucker always whined he couldn't pull off and a bright yellow hoodie.

Danny held his breathe for a moment making sure he felt it burn up his lungs and throat before letting out a big sigh.

" Yeah, yeah sorry kinda zoned out there I'm just uh kinda nervous I was told to come here for Daycare help for my little sister?"

Curaré looked at the stranger in the doorway with the same wide eyed blankness she stared at everything with. Funnily enough she was still holding Danny's hand, had held on through Danny's entire mental meltdown too despite the ecto sweat. Danny felt oddly touched by the gesture, even if it was more likely that the little girl wasn't bothered by his crisis then her being sympathetic.

The teen in the Yellow Hoodie raised an eyebrow at Danny as he fumbled the paper from Ms. Kahn out of his pocket to hand over.

Yellow Hoodie took it and looked between it, him, and Curaré.

" You're not a cop right? You have to tell us if you're a cop"

Danny made a face, " no, I'm not a cop! I would never be a cop, cops suck."

" Right." Yellow Hoodie said still suspicious " So you wouldn't mind if I called your referral up?"

" Be my guest dude."

The teen pulled out his phone and made sure to keep steady eye contact with Danny. Who could do nothing except not look away during this, the world's most impromptu staring contest, until Yellow Hoodie put his phone away.

" Just wanted to see if you were bluffing. Sabrina called earlier said she'd sent someone our way but you can never be too careful. Come on in. "

Danny felt the wind go out of his sails for the second time that day, what was with people and making him anticipate the worst.

.....

The inside of the house was old, homey, but old. It had very obviously been well lived in by a few generations of children, easy to see from the scuffed floors, chipped crown molding, and the sheer number of framed photos that hung on the walls.

There were signs of new life about too, some toys scattered on the floor, walls that were covered in butcher paper and crayon as high as little hands could reach, and oddly enough some scorch marks. Although, Danny's supposed that an unlicensed daycare for meta kids worth it's salt ought to have a least a few burn marks. For posterity if nothing else.

" I'm Duke, I volunteer here when I can but the place is run by the Mariscos, Mrs. Marisco specifically. She's been in the game for a long time" Duke nee yellow hoodie said as he stopped them in front of a closed door.

The hand made sign on the door said Office in nice scribbly lettering and it was hung on with a peg and twine. Real kitschy.

Danny could just make out the sounds of kids playing in another part of the house and was a little impressed that Duke had managed to keep Danny from seeing even one tiny tot during the impromptu house tour.

" I gotta go help Izzy with the kids, this is Mrs.Mariscos' office just knock before you go in, she might be on the phone."

Duke nodded to Danny, smiled down at Curaré and disappeared down the hallway.

Leaving Danny and Curaré alone in front of a closed door once again.

Danny looked down at Curaré and she looked up at him, she was characteristically silent.

" This feels like a job interview, did you bring your resume? "

Curaré blinked.

" Yeah, me neither. But I think if we both give her puppy eyes maybe our combined under aged-ness will activate her maternal instincts and she'll be forced to accept us?"

The nerves were back, they had never really left but now they had settled like a rock at the pit of Danny's stomach.

He couldn't bring himself to knock on that office door just yet so he fussed over Curaré instead. Kneeling down he straightened the collar of Curaré's hooded jacket and moveed her little backpack strap back up her shoulder where it had slipped.

" We got this. It's you and me now remember, even if this blows and you have to come to school with me for the rest of year it's you and me." Danny rested his hands on little shoulders and hung his head. " Jeez, I sound like my mom"

"No need to be so nervous Mijo! My Chiqis never met a kid she could turn away."

Danny's neck had never snapped up so fast in his life.

Curaré hadn't been looking up at him at all. No, Curaré was staring up towards the elderly woman floating near the ceiling.

Which was not great, because Danny for all the time had spent in Gotham had never seen another ghost. Not a single one.

Which was unsettling on its own but not bad per se, he'd thought maybe this dimension was just different, not enough spectral energy to manifest a ghostly body.

But no, again nope, this was so much worse.

No ghosts was easy enough to reationalize but one ghost? One ghost meant there was enough spectral energy, one ghost meant something was really really wrong with Gotham.

Because if there was only one ghost in a crime ridden pissed off city like this where the shit were all the others?

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

Yo! Just wanted to say thank u for all the support on part 1, did not expect people to like or care about it lol. Anyway back on bullshit, I've had this written for a while but didn't have the insp to post it until now.

Might write more, might not, you get one bat cameo for reading this time ur welcome.

Forgot to add this to the first post, it's in the reblogs, but TLDR Curaré is an assassin from batman beyond.

Note: if you wanna see cool art for this AU check the Danny and the little dead girl tag on my blog!