#sunday night and i don't have to work tomorrow

[sssammich]

fic: angels work the night shift (complete version)

what's up yall happy supercorp sunday

this is the full fic of this snippet i posted a couple days ago

read the fic on ao3, 9k words

ok thx love u bye

--

"Fucking shit."

Lena rifles through the small stack of papers sitting beside her purse in the front passenger seat and realizes with great annoyance that the paperwork that Sam, her Chief Financial Officer, sent over isn't in there. She would have let it go and finally driven home were it not for the meeting about said paperwork early the next day.

Shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath, she attempts to cool the frustrations that's fraying the last of her sanity, and reaches out for her purse before heading back out of the underground parking lot and towards her private elevator.

Standing in front of the shiny reflective doors, her mouth curves down when she inspects her appearance, the bags under her eyes more prominent despite the makeup she has to cover it, her once tightly pulled high ponytail looser now, hanging limp behind her. Her cream satin blouse hangs on her thin frame, the bottom of it having come loose from where she'd tucked it in her navy blue pencil skirt. A pitying sight, if she's being truthful, but the accompanying pity party will need to be postponed until after tomorrow's meeting—no doubt a means for members of the board to undermine her at every turn while the ship sinks.

There doesn't seem to be any clear path to any real reprieve for her after inheriting the family business, not after her own brother, the touted Man of Tomorrow, had been arrested for murdering their father and placing their mother in a coma.

Eventually, her elevator reaches the top floor of her office suite and she straightens, internally waving away the thoughts of what her life has become, what her family has become. She has no control over those things, but she does have control of finding that stupid file she left on her desk that she will undoubtedly spend the next couple of hours detangling until she succumbs to exhaustion.

The elevator doors opens to her floor and she beelines for her office, alarm tingling when she looks at her door sitting ajar.

Her pace slows despite the persistent ache in the ball of her left foot and the sting on the heel of her right. She narrows her eyes, clutching her purse tightly in hand, and running through a mental list of what she can use inside of her purse for defense. When she reaches the door, she tilts her head and peeks through the sliver of space between, finds her desk lamp has been turned on. There are sounds of movement, footsteps, and something she can't quite make.

Then she hears…humming.

Narrowing her eyes, she grasps the edge of her door and pushes it slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves.

Her hand grasps the door's edge, carefully opening it only to discover a person with their back turned to her. Her eyes trail from the black sneakers to the powder blue overalls with the top half hanging around the person's waist. A black tank top serves as a backdrop to the blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, swishing back and forth as they move from side to side.

The woman turns a little, a mop in hand, as she uses the top of the mop handle as a microphone, singing some familiar tune that Lena can't quite place.

"All by myself, don't wanna be…"

The corner of Lena's mouth twitches into an amused smile when she realizes what she's looking at, or perhaps, who she's looking at, and how completely swayed and distracted they are with the music that they're listening to.

Lena's eyes are focused on this woman as she remains rooted in her place, watching this impromptu concert while the woman belts out the chorus of the song.

It's not until the woman opens her eyes and resumes the back and forth mopping that Lena realizes where she is and what she's doing there in the first place. Yet despite needing to collect the files at her desk, she's not sure if she should keep walking to her desk, make some kind of overt gesture or simply call out to the woman to signal her presence. She might have ended up taking too long because before she can make a decision, the clattering of a dropped mop handle reverberates in the room and a surprised shriek is coming from the woman who stands between Lena and her desk.

"Excuse me," she says.

The woman raises her hands up just as she pulls her headphones down. "I didn't—uh, who are you?"

"This is my office." As she goes to make a move towards her desk, the woman steps forward and blocks her, hands no longer up in the air and now towards her, as if to stop her.

The woman scrunches up her face. "I'm gonna need some i-identification. Ma'am."

Lena quirks a brow, but the woman remains with her hands up despite her demand. "You don't trust me?"

"Only until after you show me proof."

"And who's to say you're who you are?"

The woman frowns before straightening her shoulders, enough for Lena to discover that she stands broadly, arms exposed, before she taps on the ID badge clipped to her waist. "Kara Danvers. Overnight Custodial Specialist. Now you."

A beat passes, then another, before she tilts her head, attempting to bypass this Kara Danvers, but to no avail because Kara stops steps to block her again. "Do you know whose office you're cleaning?"

"Yes. Lena Luthor's."

"But you don't know what she looks like."

"Um."

"So how would you know the difference?"

Kara frowns, but she stands her ground. "I can call the security guards to confirm. Actually, that's what I'll do."

Lena then proceeds to watch as Kara stands between her and her forsaken paperwork as she quickly radios for security. She would have been annoyed about this whole thing if she wasn't also touched that this veritable stranger is doing everything in her power to protect her company. So despite being tired, Lena waits for security to respond and clear her.

"Hi Scooter, listen, I have someone here in Lena Luthor's office claiming she's Lena Luthor but isn't showing identification. I just want to confirm. Um, over."

"Copy that, Danvers. Please have the woman approach the radio."

She bites back a smile, already anticipating Scott's request (or in this case, Scooter's request, already making a mental note to ask about this nickname) for her. Instead, she stands up straight and watches as Kara approaches with the radio between them.

"Go ahead, Scooter," she starts, pressing on the radio's talk button, just shy of Kara's fingers as she holds the radio up. "Please ask what you need from me."

There's what she thinks is a throat clear, but can't be sure with the static of the radio. "Right. Please provide today's ten digit confirmation code."

She doesn't tear her attention away from staring at Kara and the blue of her eyes. "1-0-2-4-1-9-9-4-3-8."

"Confirmed. Danvers, she's clear."

"Thanks, Scooter. Sorry for the bother."

"Good work, Danvers. Over and out."

"Uh, over and out." Kara clips the radio by her name badge and offers an apologetic smile that crinkles the corner of her eyes. Lena attempts not to focus on that. "You're cleared. Sorry."

"Don't be," she says, finally able to walk towards her desk unimpeded once Kara steps back. She picks up the folder and quickly flips through it to confirm it's exactly what she needs before turning around and meeting Kara's gaze. "I appreciate and commend the thorough precaution. Certainly more thoughtful than what I've experienced as of late."

"Oh."

"Forget I said that," she says, with a shake of her head. "It's clearly been a long night."

She motions to walk away when Kara's words stops her.

"It's not fair, how they're hounding you in the news. "

She arches a brow. "You know my name and you know about the news surrounding me but you don't know what I look like?"

"Uh. I'm no good with faces," she says with a shrug, Lena noting the definition of her shoulder muscles before turning her attention back towards Kara's blue eyes. "Face blindness."

She nods, though she remains somewhat dubious. "I understand. Well, Kara Danvers, as lovely as this has been, I must be going."

Kara's body jerks up and nods. "Oh, shoot. You're right! Sorry, it's so late and I've just kept you here even longer. Sorry, Miss Luthor, ma'am. I don't—"

She puts a hand up. "Just Lena is fine."

"Right."

"Well, goodnight Miss Lu-Lena. Lena."

"Goodnight…" she intones, waiting until realization dawns on the blonde woman in front of her.

"Kara. Just Kara is also fine."

"Goodnight then, Kara."

She walks back to the door only chancing a glance over her shoulder and finding Kara giving her a small wave, the mop back in her capable hands. She smiles back, but her pace doesn't slow until she reaches the elevators.

---

Lena's ensuing weeks become a chaotic storm of meetings and court proceedings and hospital visits and escaping the nightmare of paparazzi and press hounding her for a glimpse of the LuthorCorp CEO.

Lena almost forgets about Kara Danvers until she finds herself back in her office after midnight.

She hadn't meant to stay this late in the office today, but she hadn't been able to break away after two back-to-back international conference calls with their satellite offices that needed to have her there.

Instead of using the coffee machine in her office, she decides to take a short trip a few floors down to one of the break rooms just to stretch her legs. She's only a few steps away from the break room when she hears singing. She recognizes the voice, surprised at how well she remembers it, an amused smile transforming her face.

"…but it's just a sweet, sweet fantasy baby…"

She carefully walks towards the threshold and, sure enough, finds Kara holding her phone with one hand and what Lena assumes is a mug of coffee in the other, her headphones on her head. Just like the last time Lena saw Kara, her overalls uniform has the top half wrapped around her waist, though this time, her tank top is white.

Lena doesn't move from her spot, afraid to make any sudden movements in case she startles the other woman. She waits and watches as Kara gets comfortable at a table, busy singing along to whatever she's listening to on her phone. The mug hovers by her lips when Kara looks up from her seat and finds Lena standing by the entrance.

Her shriek of surprise is worse than last time especially when she spills almost half of her coffee all over herself as she attempts to keep herself upright in her seat. Lena grimaces before she offers an apologetic and guilty smile and a wave.

"What the heck, lady!" Kara says, wrenching her tank top away from her body and squeezing it. Lena scolds herself for inappropriately checking her employee out, especially when she discovers tan skin under the now stained fabric.

"I'm sorry, Kara. I didn't mean to startle you again," she offers.

"Again?" Her face contorts in confusion and has Lena frowning because of it. Then a flash of recognition appears on Kara's face and her cheeks redden, her head bowed slightly. "Oh! Miss Luth—Miss Lena. Hi. Sorry, I didn't realize you'd be down here."

"I was hoping to make a cup for myself," she nods towards the half-empty cup sitting in front of Kara. "I didn't know how to make my presence known without startling you, but it seems I'd done it anyway."

"The fault is mine," Kara insists. "I should definitely stop listening to headphones while at work. But it's literally only me on these floors, so anybody showing up would for sure scare me."

With the misunderstanding resolved, Lena goes to the coffee maker. "Can I make you another cup?"

"Oh, that's okay. Probably for the best I don't have too much caffeine, then I won't be able to sleep later when I'm done with work."

Lena waits for the coffee maker's classic groan before placing the mug on the cup dock, her arms crossed over her chest while she leans against the counter and waits for her cup to fill.

"How long have you been working the overnight shift?" she asks.

"Almost a year next month. Started doing it because it's the best paying job I could get while going to school."

"Oh? May I ask what you're studying?"

"Um. Marketing. I take the evening classes and then head straight here."

She nods, processes the information that Kara shares with her. "Not passionate about marketing, I take it?"

Kara laughs, the sound melodic and bright, a start contrast to dark sky that blankets over them just outside the windows. "Not at all. But it's the program I was in before I deferred college a few years back, and I wasn't really sure what to go back into without starting over. So, marketing it is."

Puzzle pieces of Kara forms in Lena's mind, each one marked with all that she's shared so far in their short time together.

"If you could just do anything without worrying about starting over, what would you do?"

"Not sure. I like helping people whenever I can. But that could be anything."

"Is there anybody you admire and want to emulate, maybe?"

There's a half-smile on Kara's face and she turns her head slightly, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her. "Let me think on it and get back to you."

"You've got yourself a deal," she says before she gathers her coffee cup and walks over to the condiments, placing just one packet of sugar in her coffee. When she glances up, she catches the disgusted face on Kara's face. "Is there a problem?"

"That's not nearly enough sugar to offset the bitter taste of coffee."

It's her turn to laugh holding the cup just by her lips, the aroma of the coffee permeating her senses. "The coffee doesn't need anything else, Kara. It's good on its own."

"With all due respect, boss, but I'll have to disagree. Four packets of sugar and half a mug of creamer or bust."

Her jaw drops, aghast, and she twists her body as if to shield her coffee cup away from Kara who's flashing her a bright and pearly white smile. "That's atrocious."

Kara pouts, her elbows leaning on the table. "It's the only way to mask the nasty taste!"

"Then why drink coffee?"

"Because when you add all the good stuff, it's not so bad."

She shakes her head, wonders how she's possibly having this conversation. Though she'll admit it's the most pleasant interaction she's had all day. With a quick look at the clock on the opposite wall, she realizes that she's lingered far too long for someone who needed to have left the office hours ago.

"I'd hate to cut our conversation short," she starts to say, realizing how much she believes her words this time. "But I should be getting back to my office so I can finally head home." Kara jumps to her feet, the coffee stain on her tank top on full display that makes Lena's mouth twitch in a small frown. "Let me buy you a new one."

Kara looks down at herself before offering Lena a shrug and a grin. "No, no. My clumsiness is the true culprit here."

She wants to say more, poised to do just that, but her phone in her pocket chimes with emails pouring in from the other side of the globe.

"Duty calls," she says. "Goodnight Kara."

"Miss Lena."

There's an amused shake of her head when she meets Kara's eyes. "Just Lena really is fine."

"But you're, like, the super boss."

"Does being the super boss mean you can't call me by my name?" she wonders aloud.

"No. But you're the boss and I'm just a janitor." The smile on Kara's face is smaller this time, dimmer too, and her fingers have started fiddling with her stained shirt.

"Don't disparage the very vital work that you do around here, Kara. Without you maintaining order in my office, it'd look like a tornado made residence in there. Then what would the members of the board say when they strong arm their way in there and attempt to undermine my decisions?"

"Aye, aye." Kara flashes her a lopsided grin and throws her a mock salute. "For what it's worth, none of those old geezers stand a chance against you."

"I'll take it." She sighs and offers Kara a small smile. "Goodnight, Kara. Have a good rest of your shift tonight."

"Thanks. Sleep well—for, you know, for when you do."

She raises her mug to Kara before trekking back to the elevator and making her way back to her office.

---

Lena gets her assistant to order and discreetly wrap a stack of tank tops, in both black and white, delivered up to her office. She's not sure what to do now, how she should proceed. She has a business dinner tonight that she can't miss, so staying late in the office is not something she can do. She could always wait until the next day, but the idea of letting this half-baked idea fester any longer would only serve to intensify the anxiety she now feels for overstepping and being presumptuous.

She settles instead for scribbling a small note on the memo pad at her desk and signs it before folding it and placing it inside the bag. Buzzing her secretary in, she draws up an impassive face, her hand fiddling with her fountain pen.

"Jess," she begins when her assistant arrives just by her desk. "Have this bag delivered to Kara Danvers."

"Kara Danvers?"

"Custodial Staff."

"Right." Jess stares at her for a second before resuming her note-taking. "Anything I need to relay to her?"

"No. Simply that it's to be given to her at the start of her shift later tonight."

"Understood." Jess retrieves the bag from the couch and exits her office while Lena remains with the ball of nervous anxiety she's been nursing for the last couple of hours. It's almost a relief when she gets called down to the engineering lab to troubleshoot an engineering snafu, eager to set aside thoughts of Kara so she can actually get stuff done.

---

The next morning, Lena arrives in her office and finds a tented note resting at the center of her desk. She takes a second to put her workbag and coffee cup down before plucking the note up and turning it in her grasp.

She laughs when she reads Super Boss written in a neat combination of print and cursive. She flips the card open and reads,

Dear Lena,

Thank you for the replacement shirts that I received tonight. Even though I do recall mentioning that my clumsiness was the culprit and therefore the gift was not necessary. Appreciated, though you didn't have to.

But thank you, anyway. It was very sweet, and gave me the perfect excuse to throw away some of the older ones I was holding onto. Not the one that I spilled on, though. I'm keeping it for sentimental reasons. I've got it framed in my studio apartment as I write this, hanging right above my television and everything. I'm sure you understand.

Bonus points that my supervisor couldn't stop being nosy and wondering what was in the bag or why someone from your offices would hand deliver it for me. Maybe I'll tell him I was awarded new microfiber cloths. What do you think?

I hope you have a wonderful day, boss.

Kara

For the rest of the day, Lena fails spectacularly in keeping the smile on her face in check garnering slightly odd looks from her assistant and other employees.

---

It won't be for another three months that she finds herself staying late at the office, her life having become a whirlwind of chaos with her work and personal life blowing up for all the world to see: her mother, Lillian, had finally woken up from her coma, and Lena had been called to the stand to testify against her own brother.

Her choice of hiding in her office hadn't been planned, but the quiet of her office and the darkness bathing the room around her is enough for now.

She's sitting on her couch with her head in one hand and balled up tissues in the other, her decanter and an empty tumbler on the coffee table in front of her. It barely registers in her mind that there's rustling coming from her office door. She rushes to her desk, hand hovering underneath the silent alarm, her other hand clutching at her baton from her purse.

Yet when the door opens and she finds the same powder blue overalls with hanging by the waist and a tank top-wearing blonde woman, she sighs in relief at the familiar face.

Kara doesn't jump or startle this time, but she does end up standing by the door, a shocked expression on her face when she realizes that Lena's there. Quickly, she tugs at her headphones and offers Lena a smile.

"Who let you in here?" Lena's not quite sure how to respond to that, but it seems she doesn't have to when Kara walks in, pushing her cleaning cart forward, and realization dawns on her. "Oh, hi Lena."

She releases a wet laugh, her body loosening from the rigid posture she'd been holding. She releases the baton from her purse and moves her hand away from the silent alarm trigger, but doesn't otherwise leave her current station.

"How'd you realize it was me?"

"I didn't at first because your hair is down so I wasn't sure if that was you. But then I smelled your perfume."

Kara has pushed her cleaning cart all the way to her desk and they both look at one another. She wants to ask how Kara recognizes her perfume, but her fuzzy brain can't hold onto the thread long enough. Then, Kara asks, "Have you been crying?"

Lena sags against her desk this time, her head hanging low as her chin dips against her chest. "It's just been a very long day."

Kara slowly approaches her and extends a hand. "Wanna sit for a minute?"

She glances down at the outstretched hand, open and inviting, before looking back up at patient blue eyes. She nods, accepting what's offered to her as they make their way to the couch.

"My hand's clean, I promise."

She chuckles, throws a look at the woman beside her before she takes her seat on the couch. Kara takes a few short steps towards her cart and grabs a water bottle before walking around and sitting beside her.

"Here, drink some."

Accepting the water, she takes a few swigs, careful not to spill on herself. The cool water feels good as it makes its way down her parched mouth and sinks into her belly. It certainly has a better effect than the alcohol she's been nursing for the last hour. Kara is fiddling with something in her pocket for a few moments until she reveals three granola bars and two fruit leather strips.

"You take one, I take one."

"I couldn't take your snack, Kara. I shouldn't even be here right now."

"Sure you can. You gift me clothes, I gift you store-brand granola and Fruit-by-the-Foot knockoffs. It's a fair trade."

She eyes the snacks held in Kara's hand, the very same one that held her firmly just moments ago. She'd contest this, but she is tired beyond exhaustion, so she acquiesces, grabbing one of each and slowly peeling the wrapper of the granola bar. Kara mirrors her, peeling her own granola bar and taking a bite just as Lena takes a bite.

It's an odd thing to find herself in, Lena thinks, with one of her custodial staff sitting with her as she contends with the shambles that has become of her life. Still, there is comfort in Kara's presence, a lack of expectation from a woman who takes a moment to recognize her and doesn't immediately recoil when it dawns on her that she's a Luthor.

"Good, right?" Kara asks after she chews and swallows half the granola bar. "Got it on sale this weekend and bought two packs. So if you want another one, just let me know."

She's about to protest, but her stomach gurgles, her body betraying her in front of her visitor.

"Sometimes it's the little things, you know?"

She nods, though she can't imagine if there's any little thing left to enjoy in her life. Kara smiles at her, her cheek puffing slightly as she finishes the granola in her hand. Okay, perhaps there's one little thing to enjoy in her life.

Lena eventually moves onto the fruit leather, the inside slightly sticky as she unfurls the roll. She takes a tentative bite, the sweetness just on the edge of cloying, but all the same comforting.

"I don't know if I've ever had this," she confesses, inspecting the package in her hand.

"What? You're kidding!"

"I highly doubt I had processed foods until I was in boarding school, and even then, they had a highly specific diet the girls were supposed to follow."

Kara looks on at her in slight disbelief, but no apparent judgment directed at her. "This was one of the treats my parents used to have for me growing up. Usually as incentive to get my homework done."

"That sounds nice. What do your parents do?"

"My dad was a Chemistry professor and my mother was an adjudicator."

"Was?"

Kara offers her a small smile. "They passed some years back, car accident."

Her first instinct is to offer her condolences and apology for having asked, but the way Kara's looking at her makes her bite her tongue. Instead, she takes another bite of her granola, the two of them sitting in companionable silence. Then, "Were they good people?"

"Yeah, I think so. They tried to do right by me, at least. They weren't perfect, but they tried to do good where and when they could."

She wants to sob, a pressure of envy sits against her ribcage of a life she would never know: a family who tried to do good when they could, to do right by her to their best of their ability. Instead, she's left to pick up the pieces of her father's death, her mother's incapacitation, and her brother's imprisonment.

"You do that, you know." Lena's head snaps up to look at her, blinking away the shine of tears from her eyes to get a better view of Kara's face. "Try to do good, I mean."

Lena swallows the lump in her throat, her eyes focused on Kara as her brain attempts to process her words.

"Sorry, was that—was that out of line?"

She shakes her head. "No, not at all. It just took me by surprise. You might be the only person in the world who thinks that."

"There are more people who believe in you than you think."

An errant tear does manage to escape, and she rushes to wipe it with her free hand. "God, sorry."

Kara rummages through the pocket of her overalls and takes out an honest-to-god handkerchief. It's white with three simple blue parallel lines on one edge of the square. Lena wordlessly accepts it and uses it to dab at her face, hopeful that whatever makeup she must have smeared all over her face doesn't transfer on the fabric.

"Thanks."

"'Course."

"I didn't think people still carried handkerchiefs," she comments, clutching at the cloth in her hand—it's soft to the touch, softer than she'd imagined. Kara simply chuckles when she responds.

"People usually don't anymore. But my parents used to carry them, so..."

"That's sweet, carrying on their legacy."

"Something like that. They weren't perfect people and getting older without them let me see that. But I loved them. You know?"

Eventually, Lena recognizes how late it's gotten and that she ought to get some sleep. She requests for a car from security downstairs, gathering her belongings while Kara busies herself to clean her office. She's just about to put the bottle of liquor back in the bar cart when Kara calls out to her.

"Leave it. I'll take care of it, don't worry."

The phone dings in her other hand letting her know that her driver is waiting for her, so she makes her way towards Kara who now held the vacuum in front of her.

"Thank you, Kara. For tonight. It means…" she doesn't know how to end her sentence without simply blurting out an insufficient 'everything', how to thank this person for sharing parts of herself and keeping her company despite the isolation that Lena has felt so acutely tonight. She sighs, hopes that the sag of relief in her bones is enough to convey her appreciation. "Goodnight, Kara."

The brightness of Kara's smile directed at her is one she'll remember for the rest of her life, she thinks. "Sleep well, Lena."

Later, when she's sitting in the backseat, she'll realize with a slight panic that she's still clutching onto the handkerchief that Kara offered her. Knowing that she can't do anything about returning it tonight, she ends up pushing it up against her cheek, the softness of the fabric a comfort pressed up against her skin.

She closes her eyes and smiles.

---

The following week, Lena finds one box of granola bars and one box of fruit leather sitting on her desk with the same tented note at the top. Her face splits into a smile when she reads Super Boss in the now familiar handwriting.

Dear Lena,

For your personal stash.

Kara

She takes a fruit leather out and unrolls it, taking a bite of it first thing that morning before placing the two boxes in her side drawer. Lena barely hides the smirk when Jess walks in with her tablet in hand and gapes at her for a second when she catches sight of the snack in Lena's hand.

---

An international acquisition deal keeps Lena busy in the following couple of months. Her itinerary has her traveling to several countries in a short span. When she has a minute or two to spare, her mind wanders to thoughts of a particular employee, one who carries handkerchiefs and keeps her pockets stocked with granola and fruit leather. Lena had half a mind to return the handkerchief the very next day, but she couldn't get herself to relinquish her hold even after she'd washed it and folded it and placed it at her desk with her own note for Kara to see. Something about it gave her comfort and she wasn't sure she could give that up so easily right now.

While spending some time in Japan, Lena thought about the time difference, how her midday was right in the middle of Kara's shift. She wondered about what Kara was singing to at that moment, if she'd been trying a different flavor of granola bars, what color handkerchief did she carry while Lean held onto her white and blue striped one.

By the time she returns to National City, her sleeping schedule is completely out of sync despite her best efforts to control her caffeine intake. Which is why tonight she's in her office working late, various files and her barely touched Chinese food all over the coffee table.

When she hears rustling by her door, she checks her watch and pauses her work, her body twisted enough to see her visitor.

Kara appears in her usual uniform with her cleaning cart in tow. Kara stills at the door before her face slowly splits into a smile as she enters the office and walks right up to the couch.

"Working through the midnight oil?"

"More like jet lag has dictated how I spend my days and nights as of late."

"Well, at least you have Sister Liu's keeping you company tonight," Kara nods to her table.

She laughs, tries to clear up some of the papers that have littered her space. "I've not been a very good host to them, if that's the case. I think all I've had is a bite of my lo mein and two potstickers."

Kara gasps, her hands resting on her waist, well-defined arms on full display. "How can you possibly only eat three bites of the best Chinese food in the entire city?"

Lena sits up. "Why don't you have some."

"I couldn't possibly. Plus, I'm on the clock right now."

"Then take a break."

"Have you?" she challenges, but Lena can only shrug since she can't say that she has. "Besides, I can't eat your food, Lena! You haven't eaten any of it!"

"I have plenty to share, but it probably does need reheating."

Kara looks at her, narrowing her eyes, when she says, "Well then let's both take it to the breakroom downstairs and eat there."

She's about to protest when she reconsiders knowing that her work can wait. So she smiles up at Kara from her spot on the couch and nods.

Kara takes the lead in heating up her food before opening the cupboards and finding plates and utensils. She offers to help but Kara shoos her away, so she makes herself useful and pours them both glasses of water. When the microwave dings, Kara's quick to take out the plastic container before Lena can even get to it, a playful glare thrown her way.

"Go sit."

She quirks a brow. "Last I checked, I was your boss."

Lena then smiles when Kara throws her a cheeky eyeroll and says, "Okay. Go sit, boss."

Doing as she's told, she takes her place at the table and watches as Kara plates her once-forgotten dinner, portioning it perfectly for the two of them. It's a silly thing for her to imagine a life where this could happen, but they're not at work or her breakroom, but instead at home together. Kara's studio apartment or her penthouse perhaps. A dangerous thing to entertain in her mind, tempting as it is. Chalks this lapse of judgment to her frayed and fraught emotions.

Still, when Kara's face breaks into a smile as she sits across from Lena, she reminds herself that there's no harm for a little fantasy that will go nowhere. Least of all when it's after midnight.

From her seat, she watches as Kara takes an appreciative bite of her potsticker. "Man, they really have the best potsticker in the world. Even China, probably."

She laughs, shaking her head as she forks a bite of her own lo mein into her mouth. Lena surprises herself when she gets through her plate quickly, the hunger she'd staved off for the last few hours coming back in full force.

"See, Sister Liu's is the best," Kara announces when she tips her head towards Lena's now clear plate.

"It did come highly recommended from my assistant."

"Yeah, she and I have talked about it in passing. I was actually the one to put her on it, so I'm glad that my rec made it all the way to the top."

"I hadn't realized you were familiar with my assistant," she comments, attempting to temper the surprise in her voice.

"Oh, sure. I've seen her a few times when I come into work early on nights I don't have class. I'm usually hauling a takeout bag in while she's on her way out."

"Perhaps you can relay some food suggestions to her. I normally have her order from the same place most of the time."

Kara smiles at that. "You're talking to the right person, then."

"Oh?"

"Definitely. You'll eat good, I promise."

She doesn't doubt Kara at all, not when she's flashing Lena a bright smile. When they finish eating, Lena insists she washes the plates they used since Kara 'cooked'. The hearty laugh that fills the quiet break room replenishes a drought she can't identify inside of her. She laughs along as she passes the plates for Kara to dry.

It's so easy, here.

It's so easy, here, for Lena to forget where she is, who she is.

It's so easy, here, to imagine a life that isn't hers, with a woman who has delivered more joy and light in her life than she could have ever expected.

They eventually walk back to Lena's office, Lena's soul and stomach satiated, and she considers leaving the files as they are and heading home.

"Time to go?"

"I think so," she says, even as she covers her mouth from a yawn. "Leave the room as it is, I'll sort through these things in the morning."

"Might still do some light dusting," Kara says with a shrug. Then she puts her hand out to reveal a fortune cookie. "For the trip home."

"Keep it."

"No, this is your fortune. You have to keep it." Kara reaches out and takes Lena's hand before placing the fortune cookie in the center of her palm before curling her fingers carefully into a loose fist. "You have to eat the cookie first entirely before you read the fortune or it won't work."

She huffs, but nods. "I didn't realize there were so many rules. But okay. I will do as told."

Kara gives her a triumphant smile. "Good. Sleep well, when you do."

"Goodnight, Kara."

With a parting wave to Kara when the elevator doors close, she stare at the fortune cookie still in hand. She rips the plastic open and splits the cookie, careful to take heed of Kara's advice. By the time she reaches her car, she's already eaten the cookie, yet it's not until she's sitting in the passenger seat that she looks at the small slip of paper.

She laughs when she reads her fortune.

Your heart will skip a beat.

---

Lena arrives in the office a bit tired but in good spirits, greeting Jess with a smile. Walking into her office, she shakes her head when she sees the clutter she'd made the night before cleared up, the files stacked neatly. She finds a colorful spread of papers at her desk and smiles when she sees the familiar scrawl on a tented memo.

Dear Lena,

Here are my top recommendations. I've circled my favorite dishes in all of them that I think you'd like. Happy eating, boss!

Kara

Lena plucks the menu for Big Belly Burger at the very top of the pile and grins at the sticky note she finds on the inside.

If you don't think this cheeseburger is delicious then I will eat my shoe. Also, get the cheese fries. Trust me.

She turns to another menu, one for a cafe called Noonan's, and finds a sticky note on it.

This cinnamon bun is the best thing you'll ever eat here. I am a professional, so trust me on this, I am so serious.

She leaves the notes on the menus though she devours reading each and every single one, each one a glimpse of Kara's life, each one a piece in a growing puzzle she forms of who Kara is. Touched by the consideration and thankful for the food recommendations despite how indulgent and less than healthy they appear, Lena sets aside the menus in the same drawer that houses the granola bars and fruit leather. She reminds herself to get some more and perhaps purchase extra to pass off to her favorite custodian.

She presses a button on her phone and waits until the call gets picked up.

"To what do I owe this call first thing in the morning?" Sam asks.

"What do you think about grabbing Big Belly Burger for lunch?" There's a beat of silence that passes between them and she wonders if Sam's not familiar. "Have you never had it?"

Then, Sam laughs. "No, I've had it, alright. I just didn't think you did."

"Well, I saw a glowing recommendation to try out the cheeseburger," she responds, looking down at Kara's note.

---

Three weeks later, Kara comes in super early and catches Lena just as she's getting ready to leave for the evening. It's a surprise all her own when Kara knocks on her already open door. Her blonde hair is down, reaching just a below her shoulders. She's in a navy blue button down paired with black skinny jeans and sneakers. She looks just at ease in this outfit as she does in her normal work uniform and such a thought brings a smile on her face.

"Kara Danvers, you're at work awfully early." She puts the last of her files in her work bag and waits at her desk.

"It's my night off, actually."

"Far be it for me to judge someone at work when they shouldn't be, but what are you doing here?"

"Uh, well. I actually I'm here to put in my two weeks' notice."

Lena's heart sinks. "Ah."

"Yeah, I uh, finished school last week and my cousin in Metropolis invited me to move in with him and his wife now that I'm done with school."

"So soon?" she asks, unable to help herself.

"Yeah, he'd waited to ask me 'til I was done with school since that was really the only thing keeping me here."

"I see."

"Yeah. It's not true, of course, there are other things that I really like about this place," Kara reasons, looking at her intently. Lena doesn't want to make anything out of nothing, so she only nods, encourages Kara to continue. "It was kind of fast, but I think he just didn't want me to be alone. I haven't been in a long time, but it's hard to fault a guy for being concerned when he lives on the opposite side of the country."

A slew of things rush through Lena's head, but now is not the time to think about any of them. Instead, what she says is, "Well, first, congratulations are in order. I didn't realize you'd finished school."

"I did, yeah. Thanks. Taking evening classes paid off and being gainfully employed here definitely helped."

"If you don't mind my company, then let me take you out for dinner to celebrate…unless you have plans?"

Kara smiles. "No. This was just it, I was mostly going to go home and start packing."

She grabs her work bag and leads the two of them to the private elevator. "Do you mind riding with me or do you feel more comfortable taking a separate car or walking to dinner?"

"Nuh uh," Kara says with a shake of her head, her eyes staring at the sleek sports car that Lena unlocks with her fob. "You can take me anywhere you want if I get to ride shotgun in this thing."

Laughter springs from her lips and she shakes her head before hoisting her bag into the back seat. "Hop in, then."

They make quick work of the drive, Kara's eyes scanning the entire interior of the car while she calibrates the directions to one of the restaurants that Kara suggested. If it were up to Lena, she would have taken this woman to the fanciest place she knew and wined and dined her.

She parks on the street in front of an unassuming Indian restaurant. She recalls the logo from the menu and how it matched with the logo right out front. They get seated right away, Kara being greeted with great familiarity by the server, something that Lena has never really seen save for the movies.

"Kara, always good to see you, my friend." The elderly man says with a pat on Kara's shoulder.

"Hi, Anish. This is Lena."

"Nice to meet you," she offers as she takes the man's hand.

"Date?"

Kara's eyes widen and she shakes her head, an embarrassed smile on her face. "Be cool for once, Anish. She's my boss. Gosh. Besides, she's definitely out of my league." The last of her words trail as she muffles them with the menu in front of her face, but Lena pretends not to hear, pretends not to react at the possibility that Kara may have already thought of them dating.

"We're celebrating Kara's graduation," she offers instead, delighted by the man's eyes lighting up at the news.

"Then let me get dinner started right away for you two!"

He leaves and gets them waters and time to look over the menu.

"You're a popular girl, Kara Danvers."

A bashful smile appears on her face and Kara smooshes half her face into her palm as she leans on the table. "I am a loyal customer, I'll say that."

"They'll be sad when you go."

"Yeah, I was thinking of making the rounds next week to let them know. Feels weird to just up and leave."

She nods, her eyes landing back on Kara in front of her. "Certainly thoughtful of you. One of the many things I have come to admire about you, actually."

It's then that Kara covers her face with both hands and Lena can't help but giggle. "Jeeze."

Daring to act, Lena pushes forward and tugs at one of Kara's hands so she can see Lena.

"Hey, I mean it. You've been a very thoughtful person, Kara. And I've appreciated everything you've done for my company and for me, specifically."

"I'd do them again, no problem. Everyone needs somebody in their corner."

There's no response that comes out of her mouth, and she's thankful for the interruption from Anish as he begins to prepare their table in front of them, talking all the while and sharing stories of Kara, all of which she accepts readily.

With food served and Anish attending to other guests, she and Kara fall into easy conversation, much like all the times they've shared together, however few and far between they were. Lena does her best to table that particular thought later in the comfort of her own home, the reality of Kara's impending departure hitting her more than she ever imagined.

So she remains present at this dinner where she learns that Kara's cousin and his wife are reporters at The Daily Planet and they have one son named Jonathan. How Kara can really only cook the basics and turns to takeout for the majority of her nourishment. How Kara likes to paint and draw in her spare time but didn't ever want to make that into her job.

How Kara considers Lena someone she wants to emulate, someone she looks up to. A flash of one of their late night conversations springs to mind, about school and marketing programs.

"No, you can't possibly."

"Sure I can, and I do! I mean, how you've been able to manage everything that's happened to you over the last couple of years has been nothing less than saintly, if you ask me."

It's her turn to become bashful, dipping her head. "Well, thank you."

Dinner ends with a feast of desserts that Anish fills their table with when he overhears that Kara's moving to Metropolis. She laughs, heart full, when Kara gazes at her just as Anish explains that he has his own cousin in Metropolis and even though his restaurant is not as good as his, he would still recommend it so she can have a taste of home. When it's time to pay and Anish refuses them, Lena simply tucks a few hundred dollar bills into his shirt pocket and pats him on the shoulder. It's only then that the older man finally loses his cool.

Each of them walk out with a to-go bag each, the two of them giggling openly when they breathe in the night air. Kara accepts the ride to her apartment and so they spend the fifteen-minute drive chatting about nothing in particular, content with simply enjoying each other's company.

The traitorous part of Lena can't help but shake the idea of how good this all feels, how light and alive she feels in Kara's presence. So she indulges herself and appreciates it for the time that it is, another moment in finding joy, however fleeting, with Kara around.

When they reach the front of Kara's building, she gets out of her own seat and walks around to meet Kara.

"Thanks for dinner tonight," Kara says, scratching the back of her head. "Not what I thought would happen when I put my resignation notice in, but I can't complain."

"I think you'll have Anish to thank for the food. But I appreciated you letting me take you out to celebrate. I really am proud of you for finishing what you set out to do. I wish you nothing but luck in Metropolis."

"Can I—sorry, this is probably really inappropriate, but can I give you a hug?"

Lena wants nothing more, so she opens her arms until they wind their way around Kara's neck. For a long moment, one that Lena will feel for days to come, they simply hold each other in place, steady breaths passing between them until the embrace meets its end.

"Thanks for taking care of my office," she says intently when they finally separate, hoping to convey that what she really means is Thanks for taking care of me.

By the smile that Kara sends her way and the softness in her eyes, she can tell that Kara has heard her loud and clear when she responds, simply, "It was my pleasure."

---

On what Lena knows is Kara's last night, she orders for the handkerchief she'd been carrying with her to be delivered back to Kara. It sits in a simple box with a note of thanks for letting her keep it for so long.

Yet when she reaches her desk the next morning, the box is already sitting at her desk. When she flips it open, the handkerchief is still there.

---

Months go by and Lena's life continues, day in and day out. The changes that she makes in the company keeps her busy.

Lillian's recovery keeps her busy.

Her life is better than it has been in a long time. Every so often, though, her thoughts drift to Kara. How she's doing in Metropolis. She considered keeping tabs on Kara, but decided against it knowing that it would only hurt her in the long run. Nevertheless, when she catches her self working late in the office, or needing a pick-me-up snack, memories of Kara populate her mind. How a handful of interactions with this one woman helped keep her from floating adrift in the hardest year of her life.

How someone she otherwise would never have met helped keep her sane, kept her fed, and offered a light in a life that had been tumultuous and miserable for her.

A year passes and Lena is all the better for it. Her life has settled, stabilized. It's more than she could have hoped for, certainly more than she could have imagined a year prior when she'd only gotten her bearings in order.

After Kara left, she'd resolved to leave work earlier, never to catch herself in the office so late in the night. Something about the sacredness of those nights needed to be preserved with the woman who left for the opposite side of the country. It's a silly notion, but Jess seems all the happier for it when she leaves work at a more consistent hour in the evening.

"Miss Luthor, your 11 AM had to cancel last minute."

Faced with a free hour, she grabs her purse and heads for the elevator. "I'm gonna take a long lunch. Hold my calls until I get back."

She makes her way to Noonan's and orders herself a kale salad, a cinnamon bun, and a cup of coffee before occupying a seat outside. Engrossed in eating her lunch just as she flips a page of her book, she falls into the shadows of someone standing by the free chair of her table. She squints to get a better look, the person in a blazer with short hair that end right below the ears. Still, the shadows obscure the person's face.

"I think you dropped this," the voice says. "I have one just like it."

Sure enough, this stranger pulls out a handkerchief of her own from her pocket and it's a simple square with three parallel lines on one edge, this time all red. Shock appears on her face when she finally recognizes exactly who's standing in front of her.

"Kara?" she asks, her voice sounding unsure as she jumps to get a better look.

"Hi, Lena."

In front of her is Kara, the woman who has drifted in and out of Lena's thoughts over time. Unable to help herself, she reaches forward and clutches at Kara's arm, strong and solid in her grasp, proof of the woman's presence in front of her.

Later, Lena will text Jess to postpone the rest of her afternoon meetings because she'll be out for the rest of the day. She won't think too deeply when she hears the amusement in Jess' voice when she says it's not a problem and for her to enjoy her lunch.

Then, Lena will discover that Kara has moved back to National City just two weeks ago as a junior reporter for CatCo Magazine, that she's back to living in the same building that Lena once drove her to, and that even though Kara thinks it's a long shot, she'd really like to take Lena out to this new restaurant she found. As friends, perhaps, but maybe more, if Lena's open and willing.

And after that, Lena accepts on the condition that it is as more than friends and even suggests that she drive them there in her sports car that Kara enjoys so much.

For now, though, her heart skips at her good fortune joining her for lunch.

"I didn't think you'd remember me," she admits, somehow the first thing that comes to mind once they seat themselves.

"It's true, I'm no good with faces," Kara says, before her own face splits into a mischievous smile, leaning in closer that Lena has no choice but to do the same. "But there's no way I could ever forget you."

[noneedtoamputate]

10 Characters, 10 Fandoms

Thanks to @the-cinnamontography-is-amazing for the tag!

(Mrs.) Audrey Hall - All Creatures Great and Small

Dr. John Carter - ER

Chuck Grant - Band of Brothers

Anne Shirley - Anne of Green Gables

Peggy Olson - Mad Men

Princess Elizabeth/Queen Elizabeth II - The Crown

Samantha Stewart - Foyle's War

Bob Leckie - The Pacific

Det. Lennie Briscoe - Law and Order

Sister Julienne - Call the Midwife

Tagging @pomprincesse (no pressure) or anyone else who wants to give this a go!

[spaghett-onaplate]

it's literally not a good idea in any way shape or form but I want to get a second job in fast food

[natreads]

woke up with a sore throat. the WORST of timings

[asteralpine]

This is a Gratitude Post

Pluto TV has a whole channel dedicated to nothing but The Walking Dead. Now that I'm on medication for my anxiety and I largely know what happens in the show, I fucking love it. I tried watching the first few episodes wayyy back before it even occurred to me to ask my doctor for anti-anxiety meds, and because everything else was so nightmarish AND I didn't know how attached I could get to characters before they died, I couldn't stomach it.

My husband bought a couple new Christmas shirts and one of them is the same fabric/pattern as my favorite Christmas dress: a bunch of cats wearing Santa hats. He plans to wear it to our families' Christmases so we can be That Couple. He does that a lot: sets things up so our outfits can match--or at least not clash.

ALSO this morning my husband was wrapping the gifts he bought for his family. I dug out a cat toy that our cat can't really play with (it's a crinkle tunnel, but it's too small for our tol&long girl) and asked him to wrap it for his sister's cats. He did, and he didn't write anything on the tag. I told him I'd write on it, and write that it was from our cat, and he laughed and said that's what he planned. WE ARE SO ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH.

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Been really tired for some reason but still meant to edit isot tonight since I'd have my laptop on anyway

And then I spent an hour physically fighting my printer, which decided that this month's Stupid Issue is that There Is No Paper In The Paper Tray. Even though there is.

How is it in the year of our Lord 2024 that we can make smart phones with nine zillion functions and yet still cannot make a printer that can successfully do the ONE THING it is supposed to do

[sungtaro]

[suchaspookyginger]

yeah yeah, living with my husband and one of my dearest friends is nice for the obvious reasons, but no one ever tells you about how gratifying it is when every household member hates the same food and therefore you never have to see it

[permanentreverie]

what if I called in and took a day off work so I could just sit and catch up on tv. Haha what if. Right. That would be crazy.

[qqueenofhades]

Okay all -- few quick thoughts about the Elon Muskifying of the government, especially the takeover of the Treasury and associated financial data for every single US citizen and organization, that we are learning about in detail today.

Don't panic. This sounds bad, because it is bad. It's really, really bad. It's outrageously fascist bad. But we've still gotta take a deep breath and get through it.

This is the kind of shock-and-awe exercise of untrammeled fascist power where they are absolutely counting on gleefully terrorizing, paralyzing, and stunning you into mounting no resistance, or just giving up and giving in. They are literally live-tweeting it in real time and boasting about all the access and influence they have right now. They want you to know about it and feel like you can't do anything, so you might as well let it happen.

We have to show them that's not true.

TIME TO MAKE SOME NOISE. Because it's Sunday night, I've gone ahead and contacted my state Attorney General and both senators by email (but come Monday morning, we should all be calling). Here is the email that I wrote to my AG:

Dear Mr. [AG],

As you will be aware, today (February 2, 2025) the Trump administration has granted wide-ranging access to sensitive US Treasury data, including the personal and private information of [state] citizens, to Elon Musk's so-called "Department of Government Efficiency." Musk is an unelected private citizen who has no legal right to access this data, and is engaging in extensive intimidation and coercion to fulfill his personal and harmful ideological agenda. The present and material harm that this causes to US citizens, [state] residents, and basic laws of government, privacy, and financial security is direct, unconscionable, and actionable. I strongly urge you, in your capacity as [state] Attorney General, to file direct suit against the Trump administration, Elon Musk, the "DOGE" office, and any identifiable individuals who have taken part in this action, in order to protect consumer data, citizen privacy, and basic faith and trust in government.

All the best,

[Qqueenofhades]

Short! To the point! Doesn't waste time, tells him what I want him to do, how Elmo's nonsense directly harms the residents of my state, and why he should take action to stop it! And frankly, given how on-the-ball blue-state AGs have been thus far, they're probably already working on it. You are very welcome to copy-and-paste this message and fill in your AG's last name and your state as appropriate. Super easy to do. Takes five minutes. Call tomorrow.

If you are in a red state, your voice is particularly important right now. The Trumpsters are counting on and are even emboldened by blue state pushback, but you really need to make it start coming from Republican strongholds. Congressional Republicans will only feel the slightest amount of unease about docilely enabling this BS when it starts threatening their own personal power. Hit them where it hurts.

Other lawsuits are coming. Marc Elias, Democratic lawyer extraordinaire, is well aware of this situation and has noted on Bluesky that more lawsuits are in the works. He often wins his cases. This does not mean that you shouldn't loudly make noise elsewhere, but please remember that this is one of those 24-hour periods where, as noted, they are counting on demoralizing you with a nonstop blizzard of bullshit. It does not say anything about how this will play out long-term or the opposition that can and will be mobilized to stop it.

Once again: courage. Take the small steps that you can do today. Then take a breath and get off social media for a little while. Try to take the long view. One step at a time, we will get through this.

Courage.

[midgesrphub]

((I wish I installed lotr online earlier sdgfkhjdsf

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[fazcinatingblog]

did she send those texts on that fateful tuesday morning before or after my last therapy appointment

[dollfacefantasy]

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture.

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.

[bat-bestie]

breaking bad musical take the pain away

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 2)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: fluff (smut in the next part)

part 1

It's been three days since the unfortunate misunderstanding with Charles and you haven't heard from him at all since.

You were overthinking the whole situation that happened on Sunday and couldn't come to any proper conclusion. At the same time, you were sad because he thought you would bring someone else into your bed, even though it wasn't your shared bed anymore, but you couldn't believe that he thought so little of you after all the years you'd spent together.

And yet on the other hand, you were thinking like any woman, you were glad that he was jealous and that the very thought of someone replacing him bothered him because that only meant he wasn't over you and that he still wanted to make things right between you two. Basically, you were torn between your brain and your heart once again and it was just a matter of what would prevail between the two this time.

Even though deep down you knew you couldn't fight yourself. You broke up over some disagreements that when you look at things more closely weren't worth destroying your relationship and your little family. You were both stubborn, he was a little too possessive, you were lacking in understanding, parenting, you spent most of your time alone with Lou and everything came together and exploded.

Now that you look back on the whole year you spent without him, you know that as hard as it is sometimes to be with him, it's ten times harder to be without him. You realize that you both made a rash decision, but then again maybe it had to happen only to make you realize how much you need each other in every way possible.

It's Wednesday night and while you're preparing tonight's dinner and tomorrow's lunch, Lou is sitting at the dining room table drawing. Soon your cooking is interrupted by the ringing of your phone on the kitchen island. A strange feeling comes over you as you wipe your hands on a dish towel and look at your phone only to see Charles' name on the screen.

You want to answer the phone, but you don't want the conversation to end in an argument so before you pick up the phone, you take a deep breath and try to calm down and strengthen your voice so it doesn't sound shaky.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." He says it in a completely normal, calm tone and you're grateful for that.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Umm, I'm leaving tomorrow for the race so I was wondering if you could put Lou on the facetime so I can see her since I won't be able to have her for the weekend?" He asks.

"Sure, just let me switch to facetime."

Once you did, Charles face appeared on the screen and he smiled when he saw yours too. You tried to hide the blush on your face and quickly walked over to Lou putting the phone in front of her.

"Baby, daddy wants to talk to you" You said setting the phone in front of her and leaving them alone to talk.

Since the kitchen and dining room were connected, you went back into the kitchen and could hear everything the two of them were saying. You didn't want to eavesdrop, but you kinda did.

"Hey, daddy!" Lou exclaimed excitedly.

"Mon ange, what are you doing?"

"I'm drawing and-and mommy is cooking" She says.

"Yeah? What are you drawing?"

"I'm drawing you in a red car. See" She says putting up the paper in front of the camera for him to see.

"Good job, baby. It looks great!"

"It's for you, I will give it to you when you come get me" She says forgetting that she won't be spending the weekend with him.

"Thank you, baby, but unfortunately we won't be together this weekend because papa has to work, but we'll see each other next week, okay?"

"Oh.." She pouts.

"Don't be sad, we'll see each other very soon, okay? I miss you so much and I'm thinking of you all the time."

Your heart is completely softened by his words and the immeasurable amount of love he has for your daughter.

"I miss you too, daddy"

"Okay, baby. I'll talk to you soon, I love you."

"Bye, I love you too." She says waving her hand as he blows her a kiss.

You watch her from afar and see how her mood immediately changed when she heard that she wouldn't be seeing him. Shaken by emotions, you move closer to her and squat down next to her.

"What's wrong, bug?" You ask her.

She doesn't look at you but frowns looking down at drawing on the paper in front of her.

"I miss papa" She says, hear eyes filled with tears.

"Can I tell you a little secret?" You say and she nods. "I miss papa too." You whisper making her look at you.

"Would you like to watch him race this weekend?"

"You mean on the TV?" She asks.

"No, I mean how about we go and see him?" You suggest and her eyes light up.

"Really?!"

"Would you like that?"

"Yes, yes! And I can give him this!" She says excitedly and you chuckle at how sweet she is.

"Then we have a deal. Now, finish up your drawing and go wash your hands because dinner is almost ready okay?"

"Okay, mommy. Thank you"

Nothing can compare to the happiness you feel when you see your daughter happy. Both you and Charles would do anything for her, and that's why you decided to quickly run upstairs to your bedroom, turn the hoodie right side out.

When a print of an F1 car was visible on the black hoodie, you took a picture of it and sent it to Charles without any additional explanation, because you knew that everything would be clear as a day to him once he saw it.

After just a few minutes, your phone vibrated in your hands.

'Been looking for it for a while now..' Charles' message said.

'I really fucked up this time, didn't I?' He added.

'You kinda did.' You replied.

'I'm so sorry, y/n..'

'You're lucky your daughter adores you so much and you better send a plane for the two of us so we can make it to the race on time.'

part 3

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