i need somebody taller than me to put me through my mattress so i can stop being stressed. n w my height everybody is taller than me so like chop chop.
they say trust the universe and i am but damnnn im withering away.
abbot calling the night shift “the nightcrawlers” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭his corny ass😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭LIKE WOW😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭GIVE ME THAT DICK OLD MAN FAWKKK😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
Summary: you've had a crush on your coworker, Dana, for a long time. Isolated from the other doctors, you've bonded a lot with her and the other nurses. After a night of some heavy drinking, you end up learning some curious truths about the PTMC's favourite charge nurse.
Word count: 7K
a/n: this is just be being a sloppy older woman lover. This might be a lil morally questionable because reader is drunk and Dana is sober, so be warned.
Working in the Pitt was exhausting. Not just because it was the emergency department—though, it was a borderline demonic place to work in—but because of...everything else.
Santos was weird and hostile to everyone. You'd tried to be friends with her, really, but she just kept being disinterested and walking away. And also she was very gay, though that part wasn't weird and you clocked it the moment you saw her (you still had a bet going on with the nurses about who called the shots in her relationship with Garcia).
Whitaker was earnest. Too earnest. Like that hamster with the big watery eyes. It was distracting. You didn't like it. Also whatever the fuck he had going on with Robby and that farm girl Amy was also weird—that last part everyone agreed with, including Santos.
Langdon was fine, better than others, barring the absolute shit show that was his behaviour towards Santos on her first day. You'd disliked him immensely for that, before realising it was probably on his list of 'top 10 worst days of my life' and figured he deserved a redeeming chance. Not that your opinion mattered—you were just an intern.
Mel was nice. You really liked her. She was kind and sweet and straightforward...but then there was that weird tension with her and Langdon and you really weren't sure what to make of it.
Once, you’d interjected yourself into a conversation between them about some history facts—you were a massive nerd, and so were they, so what's the harm in trying to bond—and while they both had shot you polite smiles, it was nothing compared to the absolute beam they'd shone at each other.
'Someone's getting divorced soon.' You found yourself thinking as you walked away, slightly dejected.
Mohan was nice too, as were McKay and Javadi, and McKay in particular had so much unending empathy and kindness, you sometimes felt like just telling her stuff so she could hold your hand and be nice to you. You and Javadi had that in common, you found out after the one deep conversation you two had, but it hadn't really led to a friendship.
And then there was Robby. He was going to kill himself at some point, you thought. He could be a good boss, sometimes. But it was hard not to notice how he treated the female doctors, especially being a woman yourself.
You'd thought that after the row with Langdon, Mohan would be his golden child—she was an R4, highly skilled, a bit slow, maybe (though you weren't a fan of the nickname Slo-Mo) but well-intentioned—and if not her, McKay, because of her aforementioned empathy and general chillness about life.
Instead Robby chose the intern. The white male intern. Who Robby was potentially fucking—you weren't too sure about that part.
You and Whitaker were on the same level, skillwise, and you actually kept your cool more than him (it was dissociation, mostly, an art the mousy man hadn't mastered yet), but Robby would never treat you, or Javadi, the way he did Whitaker.
It was exhausting. It stung. Robby probably didn't even know he was sexist, and his obvious PTSD and depression were clearly taking a fucking toll on him, but why was that everyone else's problem?
You probably wouldn't have noticed all of this if you actually fit in with anyone. But you didn't. Everybody had somebody—a friend—Mel and Langdon, Whitaker and Santos, Javadi and McKay, Mohan and McKay, on occasion; and Dana and Robby.
Unlike Santos' imagined 'No one likes me', you actually didn't have anyone who liked you. On the day shift, at least. You were considering doing a night shift just once, to see if it's any different, or if you'll just be isolated forever.
You mostly just defaulted to gossiping with the nurses. Perlah and Princess liked you, and you liked them. Socialization was easier with them. You contributed gossip, they contributed gossip, it was fun. It was all the aspects of high school friendships you missed, without the petty drama. But, it had come back to bite you in the ass—no one wants to be close to the doctor who gossips with nurses all day long.
There was one benefit to all of it though—you got to spend a lot of time around Dana.
Dana had all the good things Robby did, as an attending, except she didn't lash out at others over her own problems, stared at you over the rim of her glasses with her lips pressed together, smoked, and had that accent.
God, that accent.
You wanted to fold like paper every time she barked an order at you. Which was quite often.
You liked to pretend that you were normal, but truth be told, nobody in the emergency department was normal. Your weirdness just didn't mesh well with the others.
You mostly liked bringing your own lunch, something that would hold up throughout the day and was nutrient dense so you could eat it any time, ('Take rice. Rice will help.' Your mother had said. 'Rice is a carb, ma, it'll make me sleepy, and I can't afford to be sleepy on the job.' 'Always complaints with you! Figure it out yourself then, doctor, since you know everything and all my years of experience is worth nothing.') and you didn't drink coffee. Everyone thought you were strange for it. You just...didn't need it. You became manic by the end of the day, of course, but so did everyone else, so it was irrelevant.
Oh and also you kept an eye on Dana's smoke breaks so you could go out and sit somewhere near her general existence. It had gotten so strange you knew what triggers to look out for, what made her tic, what made her go "'kay, goin' out for a smoke. Princess, take over for me." And then you'd wait exactly a minute before sneakily following her out, whenever you could get away.
She noticed, you think. It would be strange if she didn't. Sometimes her eyes crinkled, and her lips twitched into a smirk as she took a drag of her cigarette, which you watched out of the corner of your eye so as to not seem like a creep.
It was stupid. You didn't even know if Dana liked women, let alone someone like you—a strange, gossiping, coffee non-drinker.
It didn't stop you, though. Especially when Dana favoured you, subtly. It was just the little things—raising a brow at anyone eyeing your lunchbox too hard, always letting you borrow her pens even though she knew she'd probably never see them again, and throwing cases at you she knew you'd like whenever there was wiggle room for it.
It always made your face and neck warm, but the speed at which everything moved in the Pitt guaranteed that Dana didn't stick around long enough to see it. Or maybe she did, and that's why she kept doing it.
'That is wishful thinking.' You growled at yourself, toying with a pen as you emerged out of your thoughts to stare at the chart open in front of you. Your eyes skimmed the room for Dana just once before you forced them to fly across the screen as you typed.
The rumble of the floor surrounded you as you scrunched your nose, sneering at the screen as you typed. You didn't really have a reason for doing it, you just liked doing weird things with your face while focusing. Al-Hashimi swung by to check in on your charting once, just because she was the attending on the case and wanted to make sure you were getting everything right—you liked her, too. She had those kind brown eyes and that Lulu lemon jacket and those pretty curls, which is why you felt so bad for her. The dysfunction of the Pitt was going to obliterate her.
Just as she left the charting area, heading to another patient room, your attention was captured by Joy shouting for a wheelchair. You glanced once at the patient, curious why someone stable enough to be standing, far away from a chair or bed, would suddenly need a wheelchair, but immediately jumped up when you saw that it was Samira.
You immediately panicked, your heart racing as you practically bowled over an old man to get to her. Sure, you weren't close, but that was your coworker who is nice and kind and empathetic and you did not want her to die.
You helped Joy wheel Samira into a room, helping her onto a bed while checking her for symptoms. Langdon was there, too, talking to her, calmly, between yelling for someone to get some EKG leads.
You tensed when Samira said her chest hurt and that her father had died of a heart attack, immediately checking for more symptoms of a heart attack.
"You are way too awesome to die in this hellscape." You murmured as you helped Perlah attach the leads. Samira blinked at the words, looking up at you like you’d just said 'I saw a monkey eating a horse today'.
You only backed off once Robby came in, assured that he would do a better job than you at figuring out what's wrong, at helping Samira. You leaned against the door, fidgeting with a hangnail on your left thumb. Your hair was coming undone, but you didn't want to take the hair tie off to re-tie it in front of senior doctors, worried that someone would catch it and think you frivolous for caring about your hair while Samira could be dying.
Your mouth turned downwards in a frown as you heard her talk about her mother—it was an awful feeling, realising your mother could, in fact, live without you, when you found it so difficult to live without her. If you hadn't mastered the art of dissociation, you would've teared up.
"Wait a minute—is this a panic attack about your mommy issues?"
…
You were going to kill Michael Robinavitch and make it look like an accident.
Your chest burned with rage as you stared at him from behind, slack-jawed, ripping the hangnail off so aggressively it took quite a bit of skin with it. Perlah glanced at you, the only person in the room to notice your reaction, everyone else focused on Robby and Samira.
To make matters worse, Robby proceeded to tell Samira to go home in the most condescending tone you had ever heard a man use.
Inside you there were two wolves: the part of you that wanted to be cool, calm, and manipulate things in your favour in the long run. And then there was the wolf with rabies.
"I'm sorry, Doctor Robby—and forgive me if I'm wrong here—didn't you have a panic attack during the Pittfest shooting, in Pedes?" The words were out of your mouth before you could think. Your heart was beating so loudly you could barely hear yourself. For the first time since entering the room, Robby seemed to notice you were there—a habit of his—and his own mouth opened just a little.
"And I'm no expert, but Doctor Mohan didn't need a med student to scrape her off the floor, emotionally, because she was hallucinating a dead person." Everyone was staring at you now. You might've just cost yourself your internship, but you honestly didn't give a single fuck—you would've shouted your words into the speakers, but the part of you warring to stay in control kept you from doing that. Robby still hadn't managed to come up with a response, frozen in place, his eyes wide and mouth slack.
"I just think that, since Doctor Mohan seems to have a problem with leaving her baggage outside the PTMC, as you so eloquently pointed out, you could show her how to do so by leading by example. Whenever you decide you want to start doing that."
You figured your job was done, both medically and socially. Robby couldn't bring you up to admin, and he knew it, because what you'd said to him was all true, and you'd said it just politely enough to get away with it.
You were the social outcast anyway, what were they gonna do, ostracize you more?
You turned to leave, and found yourself face-to-face with a very bewildered Al-Hashimi, and you blinked at her, the rage seeping out of you now that you'd said your piece and weren't looking at the balding old man any longer. You offered her a polite smile, and excused yourself.
Your head was buzzing with adrenaline as you walked across the floor, past your charting station, and into the ambulance bay.
Being a bitch to Robby felt like doing a line of cocaine. Or at least, what you imagined doing cocaine would feel like.
“What's up with you, cupcake?” A familiar scratchy voice called out from behind you, and you whipped around, throat drying up when you saw Dana, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between her fingers.
Dana had taken to calling you cupcake ever since she realised you brought a cupcake with your lunch every day. A little treat for yourself which you would hide with great precision to keep it from the feral animals you shared a workspace with.
“I uh—you’re gonna be mad when you hear this but uh…” You trailed off, blinking at the older woman. She raised a brow, looking at you expectantly.
“I may have called Robby out for being a hypocrite for the way he treats doctor Mohan and…brought up that…incident. In Pedes.” You screwed up your face, expecting some kind of a rebuke.
What you got instead was a laugh. A bark of a laugh, the way Dana always laughed.
“Always knew you had it in you, kid. Someone needed to put Robby in his place. Please tell me you at least did it nicely so he can't use it against you?”
You blinked rapidly again, now confused, and slowly approached Dana, leaning against the wall beside her. You shrugged in response to her question, poking at the red, inflamed skin on your right thumb that squeezed out a single drop of blood when you prodded it a little too hard.
“As politely as I could. I thought you two were friends?” You looked up at her, only to find her eyes trailed on your thumb, narrowed, before she brought them up to your face.
“We are. Which is why I know when he's being a bitch. Unfortunately I'm not exactly in the position to be a dick, or he'll stop opening up.”
“Robby opens up?” You asked, brows furrowed even as your lips twitched into a cheeky smile. Dana gave you a playful glare.
“He's not all ice and stone, y'know?”
“I know.” You sighed, conceding. “He's from a different time. But so are you, and you're not unconsciously sexist. It's just—it’s hard to stay quiet when I can see the obvious difference between how he treats me and Javadi and Samira versus how he treats Whitaker. It's so—” You trailed off, afraid that if you put your frustration into words you'd say something you can't take back. You didn't hate Robby, you really didn't, he could be cool.
“It's just hard to see Santos trailing after him like he's the best person around when Robby treats Samira the same way Langdon treated her, and she's still so beat up about it, but she'll still defend him. It's not all her fault, of course, she wants a male authority figure she can trust, desperately, and she's found that in Robby, so she'll keep herself blind to her flaws until she can't, and then she'll spiral about it.”
You looked up from your shoes to look at the blonde, only to see that her mouth was open just a fraction, just for a moment, before it closed around the end of her cigarette. Her eyes crinkled softly when she let out the smoke, her voice soft, considering, when she said, “You're real good at studying people, ain't ya?”
You felt yourself grow warm, the back of your neck heating up as you shrugged and looked away again.
“It's easy when no one's paying attention to you. It was like that in high school, too. My class had like a hundred and fifty kids, and I had three friends. Lost one of those by senior year, so…yeah. It's easy. People are oblivious to me a lot of the time. I'm like super easy to ignore.”
“Now that just can't be true.” Dana said, laughing again. “You? Unnoticeable? Nuh-uh, I ain't buying it.”
“It's literally true though.” You said, rolling your eyes and glaring at Dana half-heartedly, but the incredulous smile she shot you made it impossible to maintain the ruse of being upset. In fact, it also made it impossible to keep your heart rate steady. You went quiet for a bit again, the frustration from earlier settling over you again like a cloud you couldn't shake off. You disliked it.
You eyed Dana's half-smoked cigarette with narrowed eyes, considering. You'd never smoked, never seen the appeal, never wanted to, either. But, maybe, just maybe, it couldn't hurt to try.
As if she could tell what was going through your head, Dana said, “‘s not a good habit, cupcake, been trynna quit for years.”
“Well…surely a drag can't hurt?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at Dana.
The blonde stared at you, unimpressed, studying your face for something, anything. It made you anxious, so you picked at your nail bed again, ripping off the tiny clot that had formed.
“Fine.” Dana acquiesced, flipping the cigarette around between her fingers in a move you couldn't quite follow, but which made you a little wobbly-kneed, as you took the cigarette from her with shaky hands.
It was warm from being in touch with Dana's skin, where she'd been pinching it for the past several minutes. It was warm right at the end, too, where you wrapped your lips around it.
‘Is this an indirect kiss? Am I kissing Dana right now?’ You thought as you carefully inhaled.
Your thought was interrupted mid-formation by coughing, really bad coughing. The smoke made it hard to breathe, and you didn't particularly like the smell, either, not to mention you couldn't feel any high, at all.
Come to think of it, it really was quite a stupid idea.
Dana graciously took back what was left of the cigarette from you, eyeing you sympathetically as you coughed. You wished she'd soothe you with a hand on your back, perhaps, but there was no genie listening to your thoughts.
“I think that was better than any D.A.R.E lesson I've ever gotten.” You wheezed, rid at last of the smoke in your lungs.
“Yeah? Glad I could help.” Dana said, the small smile returning to her face. You wanted to return it, wanted to return everything, every expression she threw at you, but all you could do was give her a thumbs up with watery eyes and one last wheeze.
“I’m gonna go back in now.” You mumbled, before scampering back inside, neck warm.
The rest of your day was excellent—well, as excellent as a day can be after you publicly brought up your boss’ mental health issues in front of the new boss.
But hey, at least Al-Hashimi liked you.
…so maybe you kept snitching and telling her every dysfunctional detail about the Pitt, so what? That's not a crime, she deserved to know what she was getting herself into.
By the end of the day, you were well-liked by every woman on the floor except Santos, and virtually hated by Robby. He wanted you lynched, you thought. You suddenly felt immensely glad he was gonna disappear for three months.
On the last hour of your shift, you caught Dana and Emma cleaning Mr Digby up. As they passed by you, you flashed Dana a smile and said, “You're pretty good with scissors.”
You expected her to say something casual, the way she does, something about her age, experience, or nursing work in general.
“Yeah, well, those college years of experimenting had to come into play somehow.”
Now, objectively, you should've interpreted this as ‘Dana gave herself lots of haircuts as a youngin’, but the wink she threw at you, paired with the curve of her lips, made your brain buzz with all other possible interpretations.
Face red-hot, mind swirling with implications, you stepped out into the balmy air, making your way to the bus stop as usual, when something caught your eye. It was a bar, a new one, with fairy lights on the outside and inside, and a large pride flag hanging on the side of it.
You figured since you weren't that tired, you'd slip in for a bit, check it out, maybe try to push out the yearning for your hot older coworker by hooking up with someone in the bathroom, and then go home.
It didn't quite go to plan.
“Can—cans I hav’ another?” You stuttered, peering up at the pretty bartender owlishly. She looked down at you, biceps flexing as she rested her palms on the bar top, and said, “You sure about that, hon’? You've had quite a bit to drink already.”
You nodded your head, giving her a wide smile, “‘m fine! I insulted my boss today. He's an ugly old man. I want another drink, pleaaasee? I'll tip well.” You giggled slightly when she sighed at you, a bit exasperated but also clearly amused, and took the empty glass from your sweaty hands.
She flexed her biceps a lot. Or maybe they were just that thick.
Did Dana have biceps? Or was her strength all adrenaline and stamina? What was her stamina like?
You started giggling into your drink, downing it the rest of the way before giggling at the empty glass.
“Alright, hon’, I'm cutting you off. Got anyone who can take you home?” The bartender said when you tried to ask for another drink, and you pouted.
“Nooooo I'm fineeee!” You tried batting your eyelashes to see if it would work, but the lady just stared at you, unimpressed, unnecessarily flexing her biceps.
So you acquiesced, closing out and stumbling out of the bar. You were at least two miles away from the hospital, because you could see the bus stop, and that was about two and a half miles away from the hospital.
“Cupcake, that you?” Your heart fluttered when you heard Dana's voice behind you, and you turned around so fast you got dizzy, forced to lean against the wall for rest.
“Danaaaa.” You said in a sweet voice, beaming at her. She was leaning against the wall of the bar, too, smoking.
“You drunk?” She asked, taking a drag of her cigarette.
“Noooo, I'm like, a couple drinks down. Only.” You tried standing up straight, using the wall as a crutch as you inched towards Dana until you were only about a half-foot away from her.
“Bartender cut you off?” The blonde asked with a smirk, looking at you with twinkly eyes.
‘How are your eyes still twinkling after the day you've had?’ You thought to yourself in awe and wonderment. The bark of a laugh Dana let out, though, politely told you that you'd forgotten your inside voice and said your thoughts out loud.
“Pretty sure they're just twinkling for the nicotine and you, cupcake.”
You giggled at that, the idea that Dana's eyes might be specifically twinkling for you.
“So…you come here often?” You aimed for casual, landing somewhere decidedly below that, near desperately horny. It didn't help that the drinks had done a great job of getting you warmed up—or maybe it was because you were currently invading Dana's personal space and she didn't seem to mind it.
“I do. It's a nice place.” The older woman glanced up at the building, eyeing it appreciatively.
“It's gay as hell, though.” Sober you would've tried to be at least a little bit more subtle, but six vodka cranberries had taken your tact and locked it in the closet with tape around its mouth.
“I thought I told you about those experiments I pulled in college.” Dana said with a bemused look, taking another drag of her cigarette. A light breeze blew the smoke into your face, but you really didn't give a shit.
“Were they…gay?” You asked, now just seeking confirmation. What you'd do with the confirmation, you'd decide later.
“A little, yeah.” Dana's smirk only widened, her eyes twinkling even more, if possible. “Most of the other girls ended up straight anyway, satisfied with whatever exploring they'd done, but I knew I liked women.”
Scratch that earlier thought, you knew exactly what you were gonna do with that confirmation. You leaned even more into Dana's space, bringing your face close to hers.
She didn't pull away, seemingly expecting this, and kept looking at you, quiet. There was a tingling in your fingers and toes, warmth pooling low in your belly just from being allowed this level of closeness. Your greed, however, was biblical.
You wanted more, but you didn't want to press forward without Dana saying anything—what if she wasn't pulling away just to be polite?
So you stood there, as if at an impasse, allowing your eyes to zero in on her lips as they wrapped around the end of her cigarette. You didn't know which part of your face she was looking at, since you felt like eye contact was going to make you combust. It felt like hours before she finally said something, her voice light and airy as she looked away from you, at the building across the street.
“I've been a nurse longer than you've been alive, cupcake,” Dana said as she took the last drag of her cigarette, the words drawing an involuntary, reedy whine out of you.
You leaned forward, resting your forehead on her shoulder. You were practically panting—absolutely nothing had happened, but your panties were soaked and you were panting.
The angle of your head blocked Dana's face from your line of sight, but you could see her hand clearly as she put out the cigarette by pressing it against the wall you were both leaning on.
You wanted her so bad it made your eyes water.
‘Could’ve put that out on me.’ You thought with a soft whine, but the immediate pause in all of Dana's movements signalled to you that once again, your words had slipped out of your mind and onto your tongue.
“...that so?” Dana's voice wasn't light anymore, a slight edge to it, now. “Look up at me, cupcake.”
You obliged, lifting your head and looking at her with what must've been the reddest face she's ever seen, paired with watery eyes.
“You're drunk.” She said softly, bringing one finger up to place under your chin, moving it just an inch.
“Yeah.”
“You live alone.”
“Yeah.”
“Even if I dropped you home myself, you'd probably end up hurting yourself, wouldn't you.”
It wasn't a question.
You whined softly, nodding in agreement.
“You can't take care of yourself right now—” “Mhm.” “—so you'll come home with me. It's not like you have a shift tomorrow.”
‘Why does she know when I have shifts?’
You let her guide you to her place, not too far from the bar, a small apartment on the seventh floor of a tall building.
She made a beeline for the couch as soon as the two of you were through the door, kicking off her shoes and resting her feet on one of the cushions. Then, she levelled you with a warm gaze, patting the cushion near her thigh with a pointed look.
Dana slid her jacket down her shoulders as you approached the couch, toeing your shoes off.
“Lose the bag and jacket.” The blonde said, voice warm with…something. You didn't know what.
The walk from the bar to Dana's apartment had sobered you up a little—enough to put your bag and jacket on the side of the couch without fumbling, but not enough to coordinate yourself properly.
With Dana's legs stretched across the couch, you tried to figure out where to sit, placing one knee on the cushion she’d patted and bracing yourself against the back of the couch. Trying to hook your other leg on the couch, however, made you stumble, bracing one hand against the armrest Dana was leaning on and your knee on the other side of her leg.
You ended up on your hands and knees, hovering on top of Dana, suddenly too nervous to move.
She was looking at you with an amused smirk, lifting one palm gently towards your face.
“You're drunk, cupcake.” Her voice was almost lyrical as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“‘m not that drunk.”
“No?” Dana said, amused, her smirk almost predatory. She let her hand touch the side of your face, cupping it nice and warm and gentle.
You whimpered, letting your eyes fall shut as you shamelessly nuzzled the offending appendage. Like before, you were practically panting, arching your back to press your face further into Dana's palm.
“Oh.” Dana said, voice soft and almost awed. “Oh you're just the sweetest little thing, aren't you? Look at you, arching for me, and I haven't even touched you.” Her voice was a purr now, and she stroked your cheek with her thumb.
“Mm.” You opened your eyes to give Dana a half-lidded gaze, the warmth from your face spreading down your neck. “I'll always be sweet for you, Dana.”
You had no idea where you were getting so much courage—maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that Dana was allowing you to be so close, was encouraging it—either way, your usual shyness had gone out of the window long ago. Or maybe you’d left it at the bar.
Dana stroked your cheek one more time before moving her hand, sliding it up your cheek and into your hair, pulling your hair free out of its hair tie before tangling her fingers in it, blunt nails gently scratching at your scalp.
You openly moaned as the blonde tightened her grip, softly pulling on your hair.
“I don't do flings, cupcake. I'm too old for that shit.”
“Don't want a fling.” You said desperately, voice high and nasally. “Just want you.”
“Yeah? You'll let me keep you?”
“Mm, please.” You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut again. The warmth was now spreading past your neck, pooling low in your belly, wetting your panties again, though they'd never really dried since the bar.
“Bedroom, now.” Dana let go of your hair, leaning back and spreading her legs. You blinked in surprise at being so untethered suddenly, and looked down at Dana with parted lips.
“Wha—?” You asked, slow, but the blonde simply patted your side twice to urge you to get off the couch.
“C'mon.”
You stood up on shaky legs, wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of wet panties sticking to your thighs. You followed Dana into her bedroom, her bedroom, and found it better than any fantasy your brain could've come up with.
It was austere and threadbare, with a bunch of warm lamps and soft-looking fabrics everywhere. Dana had sauntered into her closet, out of your sight, and the only thing you could see was her shadow, cast across the carpet.
“On the bed, baby.”
Baby. That one was new. It flooded your underwear even more, if possible.
“O—okay,” You said softly, striding towards the bed.
“Clothes off, too. Don't need outside clothes on my bed.”
You hesitated, your shyness coming back full force and knocking the air out of you.
“I don't hear any rustling.” Dana's voice came from the closet, loud and commanding.
“I'm just—just thinking—”
“Well I didn't ask you to think, did I, cupcake? I asked you to strip. Didn't you say you'll always be sweet for me?”
Following her voice and ignoring the voice in your head, you tugged off your top, taking your bra off next, before sliding your pants and underwear off in one go. Looking down, you can see that the flush has travelled further down your neck, slowly covering your chest.
You got on the bed, awkwardly kneeling on the edge of it, unsure where Dana wanted you. You closed your eyes, adjusting your position as the air of the room chilled your overheated skin.
“Why the fuck are you on the edge?” Came Dana's voice, closer than you were expecting it.
“I—I wasn't sure where—”
“Middle of the bed, baby, on your back, c'mon.” Her scratchy voice urged you, a hand on your back slowly guiding you to the middle.
“Are—are you sure?” You asked, biting your lip.
“‘course I'm sure, what kinda question is that?” She sounded incredulous, making you bunch up your shoulders defensively. Dana's palm immediately settled on the scrunch, however, to smooth it back into its usual plane.
“No it's just—you had a long day. I thought—I—that I'd—um—take care of you?”
You could physically feel the pause Dana took, before she chuckled into your hair. She lifted your hips up and slid something underneath—a towel, most likely—before kneeling between your legs.
“I've spent too much time thinking about what I’d do with you to let you do anything tonight.” Her fingers stroked along your thighs, inching towards your pussy.
“Mm—” You whined when Dana's thumb swept over your clit, just once.
“You're so wet for me, cupcake. Is all of this for me?” She dipped two fingers through your folds, making you gasp and thrust into the air. She toyed with the wetness, spreading it onto your folds and over your clit.
The warmth from earlier was a fire now, making you clench around nothing.
“Aw, you feeling empty? Does this pretty pussy need something inside it?” Dana purred, dipping the tip of two fingers inside just for a second before pulling them away.
“Please, Dana—” You gasped, trying to fuck onto her fingers, only for her to hold your hips down with her other hand.
“You're not getting fucked until I decide, cupcake, you gotta make peace with that.” Dana purred, leaning down until her breath fanned over your mouth.
Eyes still closed, you blindly arched up, searching desperately for the blonde’s mouth.
“There, there.” Dana took mercy on you, leaning down to meet your mouth, sloppy and wet.
“You're dripping for me, baby.” Dana sighed against your mouth, before sliding her tongue inside and fucking it mercilessly.
You grabbed onto Dana's shoulder for support, needing something, anything, to anchor yourself when your entire world felt like it was collapsing because of a single tongue.
“You think you can take me without any prep? Or would that be too much?”
Confused as to what she was talking about, you finally opened your eyes, blinking up at the older woman. She smirked at you, leaning back and reaching between her legs.
Your eyes followed her hand as it stroked down her stomach, brushing over the black harness sitting over her hips, and curled around the thick purple dildo that was nestled between her strong thighs. It was fucking huge, as girthy as your forearm, and detailed with veins all over.
You keened, making grabby hands towards Dana. She pushed you back down, cupping one of your tits and brushing her thumb over the stiff nipple.
“You didn't answer my question, baby. Think you can take it?” Dana stroked the cock, her cock, once, from root to tip, before letting it slap against your pussy.
“Yes, yesyesyesyes—please Dana, please—”
“Please what?” She purred, leaning down to press a kiss to your jaw.
“Please…fuck me. I need you, need you so bad please Dana—nhh!” Dana thrust her hips once, rubbing the length of the cock against your pussy.
“You need me? What exactly do you need from me, baby? My fingers?” You shook your head, almost in tears from how badly you wanted her inside you. Your pussy fluttered around nothing, and you clawed at Dana's shoulders in protest.
“Y—your cock, please Dana. I need it. I need you to f—fuck me with your cock, please?” Your voice wobbled as you spoke, but your pussy flooded as your mouth twisted around the words.
“Good girl—look at you, obeying so well. How can I not give you what you want?” Dana took her cock into her fist again, using the tip to spread your folds open.
You were starting to understand why Dana had put down a towel before you started, since a dribble of wetness gushed out of your pussy and down your ass, soaking everything between your legs.
Taking mercy on you, Dana began to push inside, slowly, pinning you down to the bed so you couldn't move an inch. You arched your back as far as humanly possible, screaming as she nudged every last inch of her cock inside you.
You certainly felt the lack of stretching, but not a single regret was felt as you panted with your mouth wide open, stuffed all the way to your throat. Your pussy fluttered desperately to accommodate the stretch, but you were so incredibly wet that it didn't burn at all.
Dana was rearranging your organs, you were pretty sure—you felt her further up into your abdomen than medically possible.
“You okay?” Dana's voice filtered in through your ears after a few minutes, and you opened your eyes (when did you close them?) to look at her with a pout.
“You’re so—I feel so full, Dana, mm, fuck—” You dug your nails into Dana's skin, too distracted to swallow the bit of drool rolling down your cheek.
“Yeah? That's good.” The blonde gave an aborted thrust, making you moan.
Your pussy made an obscene squelch as Dana pulled out, before thrusting back in aggressively. The first snap of her hips somehow drove her even deeper, and you began dragging your nails down her back.
“More! More, please, I can take it, I swear—”
Dana didn't need a drop of encouragement more, pulling out almost all the way and thrusting back in, just as hard as before. She set a punishing pace, the tip of her cock kissing your cervix at every thrust. Her hand pressed down on your stomach, both pinning you in place and feeling herself fuck you at the same time.
“Look, baby, you're so full I can see it.” Dana's free hand grabbed your jaw, pulling your head downwards so you could see the bulge in your tummy, right underneath the blonde's hand.
“Fuck—” You gasped wetly, taking one of your hands off Dana's shoulder to join hers on your stomach.
“Yeah, that's it, feel me fuck you.” Dana growled, pressing down hard right above your pubic bone. You keened, eyes rolling into the back of your head when she extended her thumb to circle your clit once.
You thrust your hips up, feeling your stomach tighten as you ground into Dana's hand and fucked back onto her cock interchangeably, that undeniable climax dragging you closer to its edge.
“You close, baby?”
“Yes, yes, fuck yes please—please I'm so close—”
Dana redoubled her efforts, fucking you even harder until you were sure she'd carved a permanent place for her cock inside your pussy. She ground the heel of her hand against your clit, rubbing it in circles while she leaned down to kiss you again, humming happily to find your mouth pliant and open for her.
Your stomach tightened and tightened, until the coil snapped—and your vision went white with pleasure. Like a bowstring, your body snapped. Or at least, it felt like it snapped.
Your pussy gushed around Dana's cock, and your legs twitched violently around her waist. The sound that left your throat wasn't human, you were pretty sure, your throat burning with how loudly you screamed.
It was all just Dana. The smell of her detergent, her shampoo, in your nose, the feeling of her skin pressed against yours, the sound of her saying sweet nothings while fucking you through the last of your orgasm—your entire existence, for a few moments, was simply Dana Evans.
And you were happy with that.
You weren't quite sure when you blacked out, but when you came to, you were clean, dry, and wearing a pair of cotton sleep shorts.
“Dana?” You asked, blinking rapidly and looking around for her.
“I'm here, baby,” Dana pattered in through the door of the bedroom, bottle of water in hand. “You back already? Conked out for a bit there.”
“Mm…you fucked the consciousness outta me.” You smiled at her, sleepy, sated and sore. There was an ache in your lower back already, which you knew was only going to get worse by the next day.
“Yeah? That's high praise.” Dana settled into bed beside you, opening the water bottle and bringing the rim to your mouth.
“Too bad you're stuck here now,” Dana murmured as you sipped from the bottle. At the furrow of your brows, her lips twitched into a smirk, “I told you I don't do flings, didn't I?”
You sighed, crawling close to Dana so you could wrap your arms around her waist, burying your face between her tits.
“You just fucked me into passing out, cleaned me up, dressed me, and got me water. There is nothing ‘bad’ about any of this.” You nuzzled her tits, breathing in her scent. Deciding to get a little cheeky, you kissed her nipple over the fabric of her tshirt, wrapping your lips around it and suckling just once.
“Hey, nap time.” Dana tugged on your hair, freeing her nipple from your mouth.
“But you didn't even come.” You whined, pulling against Dana's grip to suck on her nipple again.
“Said who?”
“You—you came just from fucking me?” You raised your brows, staring at Dana in awe.
“I've been fucking girls for a long time, I know how to get myself off doing it.” Despite being incredibly sore, your pussy clenched at that.
“So you came. Can't I still want your tits?” You asked, batting your eyelashes and swiping your tongue over the increasingly soaked patch of cotton.
“Not tonight. Go to bed, and maybe I'll let you at them tomorrow morning.” Dana's smile was soft, fond, and you giggled, nuzzling her sternum instead.
As you curled up in Dana's nice sheets together, your face pressed into her neck and hers into your hair, all you could think was, ‘Thank fuck she doesn't do flings.’
this wasn’t a jack abbot fic but I remember being so excited to read this one art donaldson fic bc the summary was bomb only to see “your blue eyes” and “your porcelain skin” 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 like yesss my shit stain eyes and brown skin can sooo relate 😍😍😍😍😍😍
Natasha Romanoff built her legacy on precision and control, shaping champions with an unforgiving hand and zero tolerance for chaos. She isn’t searching for new skaters until a viral performance full of raw confidence and reckless charm refuses to leave her mind. You don’t skate for judges or podiums, no, you skate for the rush, the eyes on you, the power of owning the ice. When Natasha offers elite training and a chance at Olympic glory, curiosity pulls you into her orbit, where discipline clashes with defiance. Every session becomes a test of will , heated stares, and moments charged with something neither professional nor safe. As attention grows and stakes rise, competition twists into obsession, blurring the line between rivalry and attraction. She wants control. You want the fire. And neither of you plans to lose because Natasha demands perfection and you refuse to be anything less than irresistible.
Older!Coach!Natasha x Younger!Skater!Reader
Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (N=31, r= 23), heavy smut (details in each chapter) teacher-student relationship, obsession, possession, more in each chapter
A/N: The Olympics and TikTok completely took over my mind. Eteri Tutberidze, the woman she is, inspired this whole series more than I expected. I’m so, so excited to finally share it with you guys…so be ready. ⛸️❄️🧊
You wake up with a pounding ache running from your eye sockets, all the way through your temples right to the back of your head. It feels like someone’s actively trying to pull your eyeballs out of your face, and you have to scrunch your eyes, hands clenching as you writhe in pain.
Then as you seethe, you feel the horrible burn in your lungs, like acid had burned holes across the expanse of the organs. “Easy— easy, careful-“ A nurse rushes over, latching an oxygen mask over your face and finally you breathe properly again, chest starting to slow down.
“What..” Your voice comes out hoarser than it should, eyes blinking rapidly now as you look around the room in sheer confusion. “Where..?”
“You fainted from the toxic fumes in your lab. In fact, it’s all being investigated right now, so don't worry.” The nurse's hand settles on your hands, holding you down a little too firmly— almost wearily.
“Investigated..?” You blink slower now, settling flat against the bed as your brows furrow in confusion.
“The chemicals in your lab were strong enough to damage your organs, thankfully not harshly enough that they wouldn't recover though.” The nurse explains, not caring much about your wince as they push the iv you had accidentally loosened back into place. “We have reason to believe you also may have self destructive behaviour with the chemicals, so you’ll be banned from your lab for a whole month.”
The last sentence is what has been ringing in your head practically all day now.
Banned from the lab.
For self destructive behaviour?
Sure, you often pushed yourself hard but the safety guidelines were embedded into your bones since you held your first welding gun. Truthfully you can't believe how they could’ve even come to that conclusion— you were always on time for your checkups too! Something had to be wrong, this had to be a mistake.
It’s only later than afternoon that you finally get discharged, although very reluctantly from your constant coughing. Thankfully you were supplied with an inhaler to manage it, and you tuck it into the pocket of your clothes as you change out of the hospital gown. Just as you secure your belt, you notice how loose it sits in its usual notch, your loss of mass confusing you.
Before you can question it, a knock sounds at the door, startling you. “It’s the Captain.”
Immediately you still. If your sudden ban had agitated you so much, there was no way he wouldn’t be just as furious. It was like all of the memories of the past months had crashed down, and it didn't help that the thoughts had lingered in your dreams all night. But.. you knew you werent self destructive. He knew that too. If anyone was to help you contest this ban— he could!
You move forward to open the door, teeth gritting as your entire body straightens up, preparing to argue your case. “Captain—”
“How are you doing?”
His question immediately catches you off guard, making you hesitate before stepping back and letting him into the room. “Well..” You begin, but hesitate. If there’s one thing you’ve learnt through all of this, its that only the mission matters and not any personal problems. And it’s better you don't anger him with fluffy details. “You probably heard I'm banned from the lab, but i think there’s been a mistake, i’ve never one intened to harm—-”
“That’s enough, I already agreed to their decision. It’ll do you some good.”
You blink, surprised but he just steps forward, hand settling on your shoulder. “You really need to take a break— we never intended for you to harm yourself like that.”
——————-
“Hey, you’re alive!” Soap exclaims as you line up and grab your tray. You barely get a second before his hand slaps your back, sending you into a fit of coughs..
“Wha— the — he—ll?” You wheeze each syllable out. The chemicals had left you still suffering from a shortness of breath, making you gasp desperately as you rummage in your pocket for the inhaler they prescribed. His face falls as you pump air into your lungs with far too much force. Though the pressure in your chest finally settles, leaving you with a deep frown..
“I didn’t mean tae—” He begins, reaching out but you just shrug him off, too annoyed by his careless actions. “Ah’m sorry. Just glad to have ye back again, Price said he found you.. errr.. passed out or somethin”
So first he had the audacity to hit you and then he admits he didn't even care enough to know what happened?
You blink away the anger bubbling in your chest, not wanting to have yet another fit in this very busy hall.
What the hell is up with you anyway? Just snap out of these rebellious thoughts already— he didn't mean to harm you.
“Yeah, well, I'm okay now.” You mutter back, afraid to say more else you really do bark at him. Damnit you were so tired.
“Well, that’s good eh? So im thinking for my next weapon-“
“I’m not allowed in the labs for a month, don't even bother.” You knew you were being harsh, assuming that his only concern was his next weapon and not your wellbeing. Surely you’re villainising him again— stop that.
“Really?” He seems surprised and it only serves to anger you more.
“Yes, really.”
He falls quiet as you serve the rest of your food, seemingly at a loss for words now. It’s only when you finally grab your water bottle does he get it for you, placing it on your tray.
“But you can still draw up plans, right?”
You’ve never wanted to punch a colleague more in your life but of course, you can't. So you grit your teeth, and force a smile. “I suppose, if I'm not too ill to move that is.” And with that, you leave him standing, walking off and out the mess. However, despite your heart screaming that it was a win in your books, you couldn't help the heavy weight on your chest. Why did you have to be so rude to him? He just wanted your expertise— if anything it should be considered a compliment.
The food doesn't even interest you anymore, and you barely have most of it before throwing it out.
——
The next day doesn't fare any better for you. You’re overwhelmed with coughing fits even in the shower and it didn’t help that your entire body ached. Something about damage to the nerves in your hands and feet, apparently. You couldn't listen to the nurses much over the whirring oxygen machines.
“You alive..?” The short knock at your door has you agitated, the pounding headache that’s been eating at you all morning only throbbing harder.
“Barely..” You mumble beneath your breath, slowly padding over to the door before weakly opening it to meet Gaz.
“You know you shouldn't hole yourself up here doing work all day— it’s good to take breaks.”
“Actually I haven't done anything today..” You hate that you have to fight off the urge to mention the harsh symptoms you’ve dealt with for the entire morning. After all, only focus on the mission, that’s it.
“Oh—? Are you on medical leave? I know you’re banned from the labs but..”
You’re half tempted to close the door right in his face at this point but something tells you that would be a very bad idea. It’s just so ironic, that he only knows the facts connected to your job but not the medical symptoms they caused—
You have to shake your head to snap yourself out of it, giving him an awkward shrug instead. “No, technically I'm not on leave.”
“Oh.. so why aren't you working?”
You honestly wish you could make him feel the pain throbbing through your body at this very moment, but you can't because that’d probably make you guilty of assault. You force another smile, swallowing firmly. “The chemicals I work with have left me with bad shortness of breath and nerve damage. Maybe tomorrow I can write up your plans, Kyle.”
You watch as his face slowly drops, but it doesn't make you feel any more satisfied.
“Oh- I didn't know.. Did you not follow the safety protocols?”
That was your last straw, and honestly you felt way too close to your legs giving out right now so you just do what you do best, shrugging. “Probably.” Agreeing with his words are easier than contesting them, and soon enough you get to slump back into bed again and pass out.
——-
Two weeks have passed since then, mainly because you’ve been avoiding them like the plague this entire time. But it’s also good for you too, finally able to settle your mind from the months of stress you’ve been put through. You sleep more hours, finally do the things you’ve been putting off, and you’re starting to find love in your work again. Besides, having a break from them has given you time to sort out your feelings and the mismanaged anger you always seemed to have towards them. They were soldiers with a job! You couldn't expect them to chase after you.
You stop by the mess hall at a later time today, and since you already ate with them that morning you don't really mind doing the same now.
“Hi.” You grin as you take a seat at the end, Gaz shuffling up for you. “How’d your training session with the lower ranks go?” Of course, you grin, only focusing on his day because you’ve learnt now not to talk about yours.
“Went quite well, actually. Got a good bunch for once.” He replies, scooping a final spoonful into his mouth whilst you grab your first.
You hadn't been eating in the mess that much recently, mostly from being too weak in your first few days off. Now you couldn't help but salivate at the food sitting there, no matter how crappy it could be sometimes.
That means you end up eating a little too quickly— the dessert actually looks good today, and this was one of the few serotonin boosters in your life.
“Arent you going to slow down?” Ghost comments, sitting opposite, and his eyes narrowed on your plate. Immediately you pause, giving him a sheepish smile as you swallow down the last bite you shoved in.
“Sorry, ‘m pretty hungry today.” You chuckle, because you’ve all had your moments, especially how they usually scoff their food down after a hard mission.
“From what, eh? Yer not even working right now.”
You turn to see Soap snort at his own words, after practically licking his own plate clean. He pats Gaz who snickers too, leaning back in his chair and locking his eyes onto you as well. “He’s right, you know. Like- we’re actively doing physical work all day, and then paperwork on top of that.”
“I guess- i’m still a bit ill and—“
“Dont you just sit in your room for most of the day?” Ghost adds, tilting his head in your direction, especially when your fork reaches for the dessert next.
It’s so embarrassing, your stomach feels queasy as you feel the burn of all of your eyes on you. They’re staring— judging— your choices. They don't even think you deserve to eat, and hell, they’re right, aren't they? You haven't been doing any work so they’re not actually wrong. They keep on looking at you expectantly though, like you have an answer for why you’re hungry despite the fact you don't deserve it.
The worst part was that Price wasn't even here to defend you right now. He would, right? Surely. You were told he was the one that brought you to the infirmary in the first place, so he definitely would say something.
“Oh.. I guess so.” You say awkwardly, eyes darting downwards as Soap laughs before reaching over to snag your dessert plate.
“Here, i’ll do ye a favour? Ye don't want it, do ya?” All you can do is shake your head slowly, watching as he scoffs it down without a second thought, continuing a conversation with Ghost like they hadn't just humiliated you.
—-----------------------------------------------
“Captain..”
You slip into his office, the nerves in your fingers tingling but not as queasy as the ones in your stomach. It’s been two days since, and not only has their behaviour worsened but your increasing annoyance has only come back full force again. The guilt is only hitting you full force, especially as you draw closer to snapping. All you want is to be good.
“Hm? What brings you here?” He looks up from where he’s sat at his desk, a box of cigars peeking out one of his drawers as you get closer.
“Your soldiers, that’s what.” You huff, trying to make it seem more like a joke than anything. It’ll lessen the blow but not the churning feeling in your gut.
“Those muppets? If they’re trying to convince you to go back into the labs, you’re still banned.”
“I know, i know.” You slump into the small chair to the side, limbs crumpling almost immediately. This was almost the same as the first time you made a successful weapon.
It was so long ago now, but you remember them finding you immediately after the mission was over, Soap practically squeezing your half awake body so tight as he rambled over how well it worked. From then on, you were asked a million things all the time, even from other Lieutenants and as much as you loved to see your work thrive, it was exhausting. So you had found yourself escaping into the Captain’s office, just like you were now. Except that time he let you talk about whatever, and he also conversed back with you, until you even came over to help him with organising the more menial paperwork and the clock starting flashing midnight.
“What did they do?” His voice snaps you out of the memory, and you sit up a little more, one hand rubbing your neck.
“Feels like none of them even acknowledge i’m sick.” It came out way more bluntly than you intended, but even as you glance up, his eyes dont meet yours.
“Cant expect them to know everything about you.”
You let out a laugh at his words, assuming he’s being sarcastic; he had to be.
“I mean it’s hardly more than the bare minimum. They remember whenever i say i’m working on something they want but not that i passed out two weeks ago?”
“Everyone passes out— they’ve had more broken bones than you can count.” His nonchalance on the matter has you furrowing your brows until you sit up properly so you can watch him.
“I passed out because of prolonged exposure to chemicals, pretty sure that’s not as simple as a broken bone.”
“Well what would ya like then, huh? You want em to deliver your food and rub your back?” He huffs and leans back in his chair for a moment, fingers pinching his brow as you just look at him in confusion. You were supposed to come to your Captain for help, but he looked like you just told him that you had plans to revolutionise.
“I’m just saying.. they keep demanding things of me that I can't give. I’ve been able to make the prototypes on a good day, but even then sometimes i lose my breath just from small things and —“
“Are you here just to complain?”
Taken aback, you just stare at him blankly, before slowly standing. “What..?”
“Look, kid. This is the military, yeah?” He says it so condescendingly it makes your brows start to narrow, especially by how his eyes pierce into yours. “We’ve all worked through injuries and tough times before. Torture sometimes too. Your incident caused a lot of trouble, you know? We’re lucky I convinced them you were self destructive.”
“You.. told them that?“ It suddenly clicks in your head, why the nurses watched you like you would snap, why the psych eval had taken much longer and was far more intrusive than ever. You had no idea why you had been attending therapy sessions regularly either. “I’m not— you know that. Why would you blame it on that?”
“I cant afford a bloody inspection right now, kid. We have lives to deal with, missions to plan. It wasnt even hard to argu you breached the safety requirements.”
“You’re the one who made me push past the safety guidelines— you and the others demanded that of me!”
“I lied for everyone's sake. Your job would be hardly affected by that kind of claim unlike the others.”
“No— this was never about me, was it? It’s always you- Soap, Gaz— always you all!.”
He lets out a long sigh, eyes closing for a long second before he stands, right before you with his arms crossed. “Like i said— this is the military, not your university. We’re here to get the job done, and if you cant handle a bit of roughing up, then maybe this isnt for you.”
“Are you.. asking me to quit?” After everything you’ve done, all the weapons that helped them through every mission. Every prototype, every plan.
“You’re either in or you're out— I want no more of this nonsense and complaining.” He huffs, turning around to place the files in another cabinet. It’s obvious he clearly expects you to stay in; it was more of a rhetorical question. He knows you’ll never actually leave.
“Fine.. then I’m out.”
“Good now—- what?” He turns, watching your hand tremble as you grip onto your access card. “Stop your games, you’ve got work to do too you know.”
“I quit, Captain Price.” You say, knowing it’s the right decision. You’re terrified of just quitting everything right here and right now. But you’re also angry, and frustrated, and most of all, betrayed. By yourself for not realising sooner, by the taskforce for treating you like a tool and by him for expecting you to follow his every whim.
The card clatters as you drop it on his table, leaving you with your id so you can still sign the official resignation and then leave through the general access doors.
You step back before he can say more, letting the door swing behind you as the tears well in your eyelids.
———————
i wanted more angst hehe
no more kofi links this months, if you liked my content and fics and would like to support please consider donating to a charity! Whether its to palestine, sudan, congo, the uyghurs in China or even supporting the civilians hurt in Iran, please do what you can. Even if you dont have any money to give, think about clothes you can donate to your local womens/homeless shelter or other items you dont use anymore. please support your local communities even if it means getting your coffee from a local spot rather than a usual and please remember to be kind to yourself first and foremost. Thank you all for your support on the last chapter!
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