Black Hands Are Gorgeous

NOAH WYLE as MICHAEL “ROBBY” ROBINAVITCH The Pitt | 1.04

Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks 1964-1980

jack abbot sending you a selfie while he’s at work….. i’m unwell

“okay, slow down, you’d never done this until 5 minutes ago” with virgin carmy 🧎🏼‍♀️

Hello, Anon! 💜

Of course! This takes place in his Copenhagen era. Thank you for allowing me to continue my ongoing campaign for Virgin!Carmy 😌 I hope you like it!

"I didn't expect you to cook," you said, watching Carmy plate pasta with ease, a healthy serving of parmesan cheese on top. "Thought you'd be sick of it at the end of the day. It smells delicious, by the way."

"Thanks," he smiled shyly as he sat in front of you, the boat swaying a little. "Wanted to make you something from home."

You didn't know what to expect when Terry arranged for you to meet up with her new golden boy, Carmy, but this was feeling more and more like a blind date. Weirdly enough, you didn't mind her meddling this time.

"Where's home?" you asked.

"Chicago. You?"

"I don't even know where my home is anymore. Before Copenhagen, I was in London for a long while. And I haven't been to visit Aunt Terry in months..."

Carmy arched an eyebrow but didn't ask.

"She's my godmother, Chef Terry, not my actual aunt. I don't usually tell people about it, don't want to make her look bad," you shrugged, something about Carmy made it so easy to open up. "For whatever it's worth, I tried to stay away from cooking and baking and everything, I really did. I just couldn't."

"I get it. Why desserts though?" he asked.

"There's something freeing about them," you bit your lip, trying to put it into words. "You know how they're described, right? It's always decadent, confection, guilty pleasure - things like that. You can be creative."

When you looked up, Carmy was smiling - he looked younger and softer.

"I like that. Sounds nice."

"It is," you smiled back and took a forkful of spaghetti. It was delicious. "Oh, this is incredible," you hummed.

Carmy beamed.

While you dried the dishes, you caught a glimpse of one of Carmy's drawings.

"You make these?"

He looked up from the sink and flushed. "Helps me remember details," he explained shyly, avoiding your gaze.

You learned he had notebooks full of vegetables and dishes, diagrams for plating and cooking. You were surprised to find one of the pastries you had been working on perfecting there too, notes scribbled on the side. Your fingernails traced the lines carefully.

"You can have it," he offered.

"Really?"

He had an adoring, boyish look on his face and you melted inside.

"Yeah," he said, tearing out the page and giving it to you.

"Thanks," you said and without thinking, leaned in to kiss him.

It was quick, a gentle peck. As soon as you parted, you realized you wanted more - you both did.

"Can you- Would you do that again?" Carmy asked.

You tilted your head, moving slowly, relishing the moment right before the kiss, the way his lips parted slightly in anticipation. When you pressed your lips to his again, you took your time, let him cup your face and caress your waist as your tongue touched his lower lip.

When you parted, he looked relieved - that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"I didn't think we would do anything like this tonight," you said, your voice breathy from the kisses Carmy was leaving on your neck and collarbone.

You had spent the last half hour making out on his bed, slowly losing layers of clothing. Your blouse and trousers were on the floor, along with his jeans and t-shirt. His right hand was on your breast, caressing your nipple through the fabric of your sports bra, your right hand was palming his cock through his boxers.

"Neither did I," he exhaled into your skin, his thumb hooking on the elastic of your panties. "It's good though?"

He looked up at you for confirmation.

"I- uh-" you hesitated.

"Shit," Carmy froze, starting to withdraw from you.

"No, wait, Carmy," you grabbed his wrist before he could get away. "It's great. You're great. It's just, I've been busy so I didn't- It's a little hairy down there is what I'm trying to say," you said awkwardly, your fingers intertwined with his on your hip, trying to convey your meaning.

Carmy tilted his head, confused. "Okay... Something wrong?"

"I don't know if you're, uh, used to girls that shave it all or- I don't know. Men can be assholes about body hair," you said, a little defensively.

"I'm not used to anything," Carmy said, chuckling nervously. "I like what you look like."

"Oh," you smiled. "Okay."

"Okay?"

You nodded, getting rid of your bra, while he tugged down your underwear.

Carmy got close, his right hand moving to cup your pussy, carding his fingers through the hair, caressing. It made you hum.

"Want to taste you," he whispered.

"Yes," you squeezed his bicep, encouraging him.

"Just- Shit. I think I might be bad at it," he said, his eyes suddenly looked vulnerable.

"Evil ex told you that?" you asked gently, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've never done it," he confessed. "Don't want to fuck it up with you."

"Carmy," you touched his chest, tracing soothing patterns, calming him. "You said you wanted a taste, right?" he nodded. "There's no way you can fuck that up. If you make me feel good, that's great but I don't need it to be perfect, okay?"

He kissed you, slow and soft - thank you. Then, deep and full of lust - I want you.

He made his way down your body, licking and nipping at skin, stopping between your legs. You opened them wider for him to settle. He took a good look at you, fingers touching your outer lips with care.

"Beautiful," he exhaled and it tickled you in the most delicious way. You shivered.

He started giving you long, vertical licks, tracing the contour of your folds, almost like he was trying to memorize the shape of you. You moaned low. It was good. There was no rhythm to it but was making you wet and restless.

"Mhmm," you encouraged him, carding your fingers through his curls.

Tracing the lines of you and listening to your breathing, he found your clit. After a couple of his licks were followed by sharp inhales he decided to stay there, kissing and licking, becoming frantic, quickly addicted to the sound of your pleasure.

"Oh! Fuck. Okay, slow down, you’d never done this until five minutes ago," you pulled on his hair, trying to keep his tongue from completely undoing you.

"Shit. That bad?" Carmy asked, sitting up.

"Too fast," you tried to catch your breath. "Too fast."

"Fuck, sorry," he soothed the skin of your thighs and your hips.

"It's- You found the spot. That's good. Just- take your time with it," you explained. "Let me savor it."

He chuckled, your play on words reminding him that he had tasted you and then some.

"Okay," he kissed the valley between your thigh and your hip, soft and sensual, like he was trying it out.

You smiled fondly, watching him slowly kiss his way back to your pussy, open-mouthed, gentle. A needy sound caught in the back of your throat when he finally got close to where you wanted him.

Carmy's eyes widened.

"Oh. Got it," he mumbled, realizing that half the fun was making you wait for it.

He tortured you, carefully finding every place that gave you pleasure. Then, he built up a rhythm that had you writhing on the sheets, fighting the grip he had on your hips, trying to fuck his face, and he paused.

"I've made a monster," you complained, panting and caressing his face - shiny with his sweat and your arousal.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Can't believe you're letting me do this."

You exhaled and giggled giddily. "Can't believe you're enjoying this so much."

"Mhmm," Carmy nuzzled the inside of your thigh, his roman nose tracing zigzags while you caught your breath.

When he started again, he was a little rougher - sucking harder than he had dared so far, hoisting your legs above his shoulders. You moaned low and squeezed your breast, looking for something to keep you grounded. Carmy caught your movements and rushed to replace your hand with his, humming in approval as you intertwined your fingers. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure.

He stopped for a second.

"Eyes on me," he growled.

And he kept on devouring you.

You struggled to keep eye contact with how vehemently he was sucking on your pussy, lewd noises coming from his mouth. He was making you gasp for breath and grab desperately at the bedsheets underneath.

You were vaguely aware of the mattress shaking - was Carmy grinding into it? You didn't check or ask any further questions - he was humming in delight against your pussy, lips closed around your clit and eyes fixed on you. He arched his eyebrows. Now? You nodded eagerly.

"Please, Carmy," you keened.

He kept sucking on you, his grip on your breast and thigh getting forceful enough to bruise as you reached your high. You came with a needy sound, something between a whine and an exhale, legs shaking and hips grinding towards his face.

You regained your bearings just in time to see Carmy humping the mattress desperately, drowning gravelly moans into your thigh as he came too.

"Fuck," you sighed, your fingers soothing Carmy's scalp, probably sore from you pulling on it hard all that time. "Oh, my God. Carmy..."

"Sorry. Shit, sorry," he panted, his sticky cheek resting on your hip.

"Are you seriously apologizing for making me cum?" you giggled.

"I couldn't hold it back any longer," he explained.

You didn't tell him how hot it was to see him like that, completely lost in wanting you, cumming in his boxers because he liked eating you out that much. He wouldn't believe it.

So instead you said: "Guess that means we'll have to see each other again. So I can repay the favor."

cathectic and couchbound

jack abbot x reader

word count ~3k

content warnings/description: explicit sexual content, AFAB reader, power imbalance/dominant jack, spit kink, age gap, sickeningly sweet, single mention of jack wanting to knock reader up

author's note: i feel like this is overdue considering my whole blog is dedicated to this man, lol

jack abbot fucks you on his couch.

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Jack walks through the door of his apartment and hits the lights. He tosses his pack over the arm of the living room couch before dropping himself onto the cushion. It sinks under his weight, fluff spilling out of the sides. It’s ratty, has a slight sour odor, but he’s kept it all this time—moving it from place to place during his time in the military. 

His police scanner lies on the coffee table, still humming, left on from when he left in a rush for day shift this morning—subbing for Robby during his vacation. Robby let you switch shifts to be with Jack as a thank you. You both prefer nights.

He slowly reaches over to turn it off. Tired doesn’t begin to explain how he feels. He’s exhausted. Worn out. On his last leg. 

Jack made that last joke to Robby too many times to count, trying—and failing—to get a chuckle out of him. Maybe one day.

He considers taking off his prosthetic to get more comfortable and ease some of the ache but decides against it. Leaving it on will motivate him to make the trek to bed later. He’s slept on this couch more times than he’d like to admit, and it’s been with him through it all—but it wasn’t made to last.

It’s convenient, sure, but he prefers to sleep in bed with you. And it’s easier on his back.

Jack unlocks his phone and is faced with the last website he was on while taking his millisecond break earlier tonight. Dana suggested the place, and he could see why. The jewels are bright, sharply cut—dangerous—yet mesmerizing. Hypnotic, even. Jack eyes one in particular, hovering over the purchase button. He imagines the center stone of the engagement ring glinting from the sunrise as you hold onto the railing of his patio while he eats you out from behind. 

He’s pulled from his reverie when his phone pings, signaling a text from you. Your message says that you'll be a little late. 

He feels awful about leaving you in the Pitt, but after a string of deaths—one after another after another—he didn't want to stay even a minute past the end of his shift. He replies to your text with a simple thumbs-up. You understand. You always do.

Not twenty minutes later, he hears the rattling of the doorknob, the jangle of his spare key, and the click of the lock turning. 

Most times, once Jack gets home, he leaves his door unlocked for you, considerate of your occasional forgetfulness. But, now and then, he locks the door on purpose, somehow knowing you’d forget your key that day. He doesn’t know how he knows—he just does. 

He always gives the excuse that he forgot to leave it unlocked—old age, he dryly jokes—but he can’t help secretly looking forward to opening the door for you every time. Seeing your sheepish face waiting patiently on the other side when he greets you. 

Jack lingers at the door, his thick frame blocking the entrance to the apartment. He takes his time staring at you, soaking you in, wondering how he managed to make such a pretty young thing like you his. On a good day, you’ll indulge him in his silent staring contest, admiring his corded arms crossed against his chest, but on most days, you push past him, rushing in to use the restroom.

Tonight, though, he must really be tired, because not only did he—for real this time—forget to leave the door unlocked, but he's also slightly relieved you brought your key. Jack was not moving from the couch anytime soon. He couldn’t help but feel bad for it—the old thing rocking with each sudden movement, thanks to one of the uneven legs.

You drag yourself into the living room and your purse lands at an angle atop Jack’s pack, then slides to the floor, now scrunched from the impact. 

A granola bar, your lip balm, and your R3 badge escape from the unzipped lip of the purse, but you don’t care. You lie across Jack on the other end of the couch, throwing your feet over his lap. He helps you remove your shoes while gently rubbing your feet. 

Silence cozily stretches over the both of you like a heated blanket, despite the appearance of the muted, almost sterile living room. Jack’s entire apartment is nearly stripped to bare bones. 

What little he does own is old, tattered, or otherwise near defunct. His walls are empty, save for a few photos of the two of you together that you forced him to put up. The food in his fridge is nearly gone, with the exception of eggs, sourdough bread, and his chocolate protein shakes—an essential, apparently. The only other things to eat are snacks he keeps stocked in the cabinets for you. And this damn couch. The smell used to make you wrinkle your nose, but you’ve gotten used to it.

It makes sense, considering his military past and the time demands being an attending requires, but you can’t help wanting to liven the place up a little. For the both of you. You always joke that the three most important things to him are you, his couch, and his police scanner—not necessarily in that same order.

You casually wonder if Jack would let you take his card to go shopping for the place, knowing all his money is just collecting dust in the bank. You might as well—you practically live here. You’re not sure when you last saw the inside of your own apartment. He only ever spends money on necessities and spoiling you, anyway. You’ll convince him to take you both when your schedules line up. 

He asked you to move in not too long ago, but your lease isn't up for another few months. He offered to pay the fee to break it, but you humbly declined. You aren’t quite aware how much of a dopamine rush Jack gets when he takes care of things for you. When he takes care of you.

Jack gives you a few minutes to decompress, now rubbing your sore ankles.

Finally, you start, “Today was a shit day.”

Jack grunts in agreement. “No argument there—but you were amazing today. You’re so strong, you know that?” He gives you an intense look.

He’s not joking, not throwing words at the wall to see what sticks. He’s being utterly sincere, and another pinprick of sand falls into the hourglass of love you have for him, joining the millions already there.

You smile warmly at him. “You tell me after every difficult shift. How could I not know? And… you’re amazing too.”

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

A second passes before you respond. “Can you hold me?”

“Sure can, sweetheart.”

Jack pulls you from under your arms like a child, setting you atop his lap. You can’t help how your face heats up at the way he so easily throws you around, bending you to his will. The act makes you dizzy—his casual display of strength and the way he takes care of your needs makes you putty in his strong hands. 

He rubs mindless shapes into your back, applying slight pressure, and you're comforted by his touch.

Jack moves his hands to your shoulders and continues to rub with even more pressure. 

“Let me know if it hurts at all, baby.” 

The massage starts to feel good. Almost too good. Who taught him to give massages like this? 

You rack your brain, recalling if Myrna’s asked for one lately. Or worse yet, imagine her using her one uncuffed hand to grope Jack under the guise of a “massage.” 

You shiver at the uncomfortable thought, then at the pleasure running through you from Jack’s working of your shoulders. You let a low moan escape from deep within your chest. Under normal circumstances, you’d be a bit embarrassed by the sultry sound, but both you and Jack are too tired and too caught up in the haze of each other’s presence to care.

At the sound of your pleased groan, Jack feels a new life springing within him, taking root and reaching his extremities, tension churning just under his skin with its movement. 

Taking care of you like this—touching you, being in your presence—is more than he could have ever hoped to imagine for himself. Jack knows more than most to take wins as they come. Sink them in and hold on to them, because you never know what tomorrow might bring. 

Despite the losses in the Pitt tonight, he still has you. As long as you’re with him at the end of every day, falling apart under his touch, going shy at his quiet confessions and severe (but loving) stares, he can make it another day in the Pitt. 

Jack’s touch becomes more persistent, roaming south again—and even further south—to grope the round of your ass. 

“Jack,” you rasp, tugging at his soft curls. You begin to grind down on him, both of your scrubs thin enough to feel the heat emanating from each other’s bodies. 

Jack grunts, but ultimately ignores your whining. He’s taking his time with you. Whether you’re patient enough for him or not. He’s not against taking you over his knee if you flail too much for his liking. You’re so, so good to him though, letting him set the pace, and you settle against him again. He kisses down the column of your neck, grazing his teeth at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

Muffled against his shoulder, you manage, “Jack, p-please? I want to be closer to you. Let me?” Jack gives your neck one last deep, almost shaky, inhale, then a tender kiss on your cheek, and nods. 

You’re just too damn sweet—and Jack wants to eat you alive. And what’s worse? You’d let him. 

The naked trust you have in him makes him reconsider every mistake, every bad decision, every failure in his life. He can’t be so bad if someone like you trusts him, right? Pre-therapy Jack? Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even be in those pictures on the wall. There’d be no pictures on the wall. 

He wouldn't allow that. He wouldn’t allow himself to hurt anyone but himself—no one but Jack. He’s let too many people down already. People he couldn’t save during his time in the service years ago. People he can’t save now—patients like those lost tonight in the hell that is the Pitt. 

Jack still feels the occasional pang of guilt, but now it washes over him, like a spring rain washing away the lingering, tacky pollen, and he feels all the lighter for it. He still lets himself feel sorrow, and pain for the people whose lives couldn’t be saved—who he couldn’t save. But now he doesn’t find it in himself to self-blame. And with you in his corner, his other half, he’s too fixated on your needs to wallow in sorrow.

Post-therapy Jack? The Jack that forgives himself for his mistakes and lets people in? He couldn’t imagine pushing you away. 

You're it—and there’s no escaping him. He’s tagged and bagged you, and you’re his. 

Jack has always told Robby that he lives in the darkness. It used to rear its ugly head in the form of bar fights, drunken nights, and emotionless one-night stands. It's controlled now, taking a backseat only for those really ugly, bad days, but sometimes it comes out of hiding in the form of a disgusting possession that curls around you both. 

Jack allows himself this one vice. He doesn’t care about having physical things in his apartment. About the money he makes, about the notoriety that comes from being Jack Abbot. Just having you is enough. 

And you never shy away from it—from him. From his past, from his darkness, from his deep, intense love for you. 

Jack, for a brief second, thinks about impregnating you. Tonight. Right here. Right now. As long as it takes. Until you take. But he drags in a deep inhale. Stop, he thinks to himself. Everything in due time.

He pushes the thought away as you step back to take off your scrubs and step out of your underwear.

It’s not lost on you that you're now nude while he’s fully clothed—the slight humiliation and power imbalance scratching an itch you’re too delirious with need to unpack at the moment. Jack lifts from the couch to pull down his bottoms and boxers just enough to free his hard cock and balls, flushed and leaking for you.

Jack pulls you to him, gripping your hips so you’re sitting just above his cock, letting you sink down on him at your own pace. While you moan, getting adjusted to his size, Jack has his own agenda, and he starts tweaking your nipples, pebbled and peaked under his rough touch. 

He takes your left nipple into his mouth, groaning against the soft flesh of your breast, while his palm squeezes the other. Meanwhile, you’re whining on his cock, frustrated by Jack’s lack of movement.

He can’t help but get riled up when teasing you, knowing how much you want him.

When Jack’s had enough of torturing your tits, he kisses you—rough, sloppy, a mash of tongue and teeth—while unashamedly spreading the fat of your ass, his wrists pinning your hips so you can’t ride him. 

“J-Jack. Please… just—just fuck me already.” You try to sound as confident as possible, but you know better than to disrupt Jack while he’s far away somewhere, lost in the feel of your body. It frustrates you how patient he is sometimes. You want to be fucked. Now. 

You bring your fingers down to your swollen clit, wanting some friction. He stops you with his words.

“Okay, baby.” A kiss to the tip of your nose. “Thank you for saying please.” He smiles down at you in his devilish, gremlin-ly way. And you can’t help but want to both slap him and kiss him breathless for it.

Jack lifts you again, slowly, so only the tip of his cock is slightly pushing against your pillowy cunt, hole clenching around nothing while you hold onto his shoulders, shaking slightly. 

“Ready?” Jack asks. You give him a firm nod, and Jack slams you back down to his pelvis, the back of your thighs scratching against his scrubs. He begins a rough, but measured pace, cock hitting at just the right angle to make you go dumb. 

You’re fucking wet. Juices stain the black of Jack’s scrubs, and he wears it like a badge of honor.

He forces your mouth open with the press of his thumb.

“Open wide, sweetheart.” Jack spits into your mouth, and you swallow his saliva down, moaning at his possessive display of affection. Jack groans at your obedience, cock twitching inside you, pride swelling in his chest at the act.

“There you go, sweet girl, doing so damn good for me, hm?” When you don’t respond, he gives a quick slap on your ass, and you yelp at the unexpected contact, clenching tight around his cock. He groans at the feel of your soft pussy wrapped around him.

“Yes, yes, yes. S’good, s-so good,” you babble, clearly out of it with how fast Jack is thrusting into you now.

Jack takes his hand from your hip and presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, wanting nothing more than for you to come on his cock. He’s desperate for it—what was less than a second ago an intentional, controlled stroke of your clit, is now frantic and sloppy.

He’s been patient enough. 

Jack looks between your lips, wanting to kiss you, and where you’re connected, pretty cunt wrapping around him like cling wrap on a dish. Warm, dripping, and ready to eat. He’ll make you cry on his tongue another time.

“I love you. I love you—I love you—I love you,” you chant and come on Jack’s cock with a cry, tearing up at the overstimulation as he ruts into you, chasing his own end. The guilt, despair, and exhaustion from the losses you faced today are pressed, compacted, and tucked away into the far corners of your mind. 

There’s only Jack. You and Jack. At this very moment.

Jack finishes inside you with a rumbling groan, plugging you up with his thick come. He gives you a deep, bruising kiss and he whispers, “I love you too, baby.”

You take a second to catch your breath, and he’s in no hurry to pull you off of him to clean both of you up. Instead, you and Jack remain there, on the couch, your liquids mixing and spilling onto the cushion from where your bodies connect. Jack concedes to himself that it’s probably about time to replace the thing.

He’ll do it for you.

Now, Jack is the first to speak. 

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” You nod into his shoulder, too spent to give him a verbal response. Jack takes that for an answer and holds you tighter to his chest. He knows he should move you to bed, the cold seeping into your naked and weary body, but for now, you both stay holding each other like this. Just for a few more minutes. 

You doze off in his arms, and Jack takes that as his cue to head to bed. He gently pulls you off of his now softened cock, jaw tightening when he sees his come leaking from your sore pussy. He pushes as much of it back inside you as gently as he can, then easily carries you, bridal style, to his bedroom. 

Jack brings you to your side of the bed and tucks you in. 

Prosthetic finally off, he sidles up next to you and wraps his arms around you, reaching for your hand.

He’s made a habit of reaching for your left hand at night, once you’re asleep and he’s awake with his thoughts, delicately pressing your ring finger between his thumb and forefinger.

He kisses the top of your head and makes a mental note to bite the bullet and buy the ring tomorrow. Hopefully Dana doesn’t come collecting her finder’s fee.

30+ year old women are the backbone of this website

Omg I wanna know what happens next 👀👀

Wouldn't it be nice

Part two

Summary: Three life changing years later you run into Harry Castillo on your first day of work.

Pairing: Harry Castillo x fem. reader

Rating: G

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: vacation romance, unplanned pregnancy, death of parents, Harry is a family man, sister and brother dynamics, moving across country, reunions (sort of)

A/N: I still have no real clue where I'm going with this and how long this will be so... enjoy the ride?

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Main Masterlist // Harry Castillo Masterlist // Wouldn’t it be nice Masterlist

Three years later

Moving across the country was not how you envisioned spending your Christmas break, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. 

Everything had… kind of been a mess ever since you learned you were pregnant. 

You lost your job and your apartment, had to move in back with your parents. Your father got really sick, dying just days before you gave birth to your daughter Emily. 

And just when you thought things were getting better, just before Emily’s first birthday, you were woken up in the middle of the night by a police officer, telling you that your mother had an accident at work which she didn’t survive. 

That night was one of the very few nights you googled him. 

Harry Castillo. 

To say you were surprised at what you found out about him the first time you typed the letters of his name into google, days after finding out you were pregnant, was an understatement. 

The man who stole chocolate bars out of your minibar was a billionaire?

You fell in kind of a hole, reading a lot about him and his work. About him becoming the youngest self made millionaire back in the day. About the charities he supported. About the nasty divorce he went through years ago. Apparently ever since then Harry was New York’s most eligible bachelor Number one and every single female who was seen with him had been marked down as his new romance. 

You called his office. 

Once. 

The number having made its way into your phone for some reason. 

You didn’t reach him, of course. 

A very nice but strict secretary told you that you had to make an appointment and when you couldn’t tell her why you needed one, you were brushed off pretty quickly. 

You couldn’t tell a stranger that the man you had spend six days fucking in every way possible on your dream vacation turned out to be her boss and the father of your unborn child. 

So, you moved on from that. 

You parents had told you more than once to seek out an attorney to get child support. You could have needed the money, keeping yourself afloat with random jobs while applying to local schools in hopes to finally put your degree to some good use. 

So yeah, the last years had been hard, but you would never change a thing because it gave you Emily. 

She was the light of your life, always making you smile even when she spread mashed potatoes over her whole face and into her dark brown curls, big brown eyes looking up at you with mischief. 

She looked so much like her father it wasn’t even funny. 

You wanted to give her everything and more so when you actually got invited for an interview at one of the fanciest private elementary schools in New York City (you might have had a glass of wine too much after having a little pity party for yourself on you birthday that made you apply) you took that as a sign. 

Now you had actually moved to New York City, the school providing you with a little apartment that was more than enough for you and Emily. 

You would take over the first grade at the school, one teacher leaving for an extended maternity leave the school was providing. 

„Mommy is gonna pick you up right here,“ you knelt in front of Emily who looked a little unsure. She never had been at a daycare before and you had spent the last week easing her into it. 

„Promise?“ She asked and your heart broke a little before you nodded, wrapping her into your arms. 

Moments like these made you wish you could be a stay at home mom. 

You wanted nothing more than to spend your time with your daughter, but life had other plans. 

„I love you bug,“ you whispered, kissing her cheek. 

„Love you, mommy!“ She said before she turned around, taking the hand of Miss Clarins, who was working at the daycare and kind of became Emily’s favourite person in the last couple of days. 

„Good luck on your first day!“ The woman said and you sighed, torn but excited to start this new chapter. The good thing was that the daycare was in the same building than the school. You’d never be too far away from her.

„Thank you!“ You smiled, watching your daughter walk into the big room before you took a deep breath and walked towards the teachers lounge. 

„Uncle Harry?“

Harry blinked up, having been sorting through his emails on the phone as the car slowly moved through the city. 

„Yes, Daniel?“ Harry put his phone away, giving his whole attention to his nephew. 

„Can we go have ice cream?“ He asked and Harry chuckled. 

„No baby, you can’t have ice cream. It’s not even 9 am and it’s freezing outside!“ Harry’s sister Sarah scolded. The boy frowned, sitting between the two adults as the car slowly approached the school. 

„Can we have ice cream later?“ Daniel asked hopefully. Sarah have Harry a look to which he only grinned. 

„Tell you what, you be on your best behaviour for your new teacher today and I’ll pick you up after school to get ice cream from that place we found the last time we went to the park,“ Harry promised and Daniel’s eye got huge. 

„Please, Please, Pleasseeee?“ He nodded hopefully, first at Harry, then at his mother. 

„I thought you had a meeting this afternoon,“ she frowned and Harry smirked. 

„Not if you take it,“ he winked and Sarah rolled her eyes, looking between Daniel and Harry who both began to pout, the longer she didn’t say anything. 

„Fine!“ She finally said and Harry put his arm around Daniel’s shoulder just as the car stopped in front of the school. 

„Have a great day, buddy,“ he said and Daniel squeezed him while Sarah already opened the door to step out. 

„You too, Uncle Harry!“ The boy said before he climbed out of the car, waving at him as Sarah walked him into the school. 

He watched after them for a moment, wondering what in the world his (now ex) brother in law was thinking when he just threw his family away. Shaking his head to himself he got his phone out, scrolling through the emails that were already piling up for him. 

Once the contract with the French was finally signed, things would hopefully calm down. 

Maybe he could even take a vacation, his mind immediately wandering to the last time he had something similar to a vacation. 

He hadn’t planned to stay on the island. He had gotten the deal and he wanted to have a drink before making the call to prepare the jet so he could fly back home. 

But then he had seen you. 

It might sound dumb, but it felt like the world just stopped for a moment when he first saw you, your smile wide as you talked to the man working behind the bar. 

You were beautiful. 

And you changed his plans the moment his lips found yours for the first time that very same evening. 

He had cancelled his whole planned week back home, his sister asking him if he was okay before he told her that he had met someone and wanted to spend more time with you. 

It was unlike Harry to one, go on a vacation and two, be interested enough in someone to neglect his work. Even before his ugly divorce almost ten years ago he was a workaholic, something that was a blessing and a curse. 

It was what made him a billionaire at the age of forty two. But it also made him lonely. 

He should have known that you were too good to be true, having waited for you to contact him for an entire month before he decided to move on. 

Sure, if he had wanted he could have probably found you, he had his ways. 

But maybe it was better this way. 

A lovely memory of a week full of passion and, at least for him, love. 

He jumped when the car door flew open and his sister got into the car with a long sigh. 

„So you ditch work for my son now?“ She asked, the car already moving towards the skyscraper that held his company. 

„Do you want to spend all afternoon handling Daniel on the sugar rush I just promised to him?“ He asked, cocking his eyebrow. 

„You make a valid point,“ she mused, before letting her head fall down against his shoulder. 

„I’m glad he has you,“ she said quietly and Harry kissed the side of her head. Her divorce had been equally as dirty as his, maybe even more because a child had been involved. Her ex made her life a living hell until Harry stepped in and…. Not exactly threatened but…. Very pointedly reminded him that he could ruin his life in every possible way if he didn’t stop ruining his sisters life. 

Family was above everything for him, and his ex brother in law had been fucking with his family too much. He hadn’t seen the man in two years, not since he signed the divorce papers and fucked off to somewhere in Europe. 

Both him and his sister enjoyed the quiet in the car before it stopped in front of a tall building. Them carpooling to work had become a regular occurrence since Daniel started school. 

„See you at dinner?“ Sarah asked and Harry nodded, helping her out of the car. They might work in the same company, but they did not see each other much. 

His sister was all he had left of his family. Younger by almost ten years he was fiercely protective over her and everyone knew it. 

The board member who challenged her seat at the table three years after she had started working at his company had been so pissed for Harry voting him out, he still once in a while gave a shitty interview when he needed some more money. 

Sarah and him parted ways once the elevator door opened and Harry was immediately welcomed by his personal assistant Lou who was walking him through his day. 

„Sarah is gonna take the meeting with the French. I promised ice cream to a little boy,“ Harry said as the walked through the door of his sleek office. It overlooked central park and if he looked closely enough he could see the building his penthouse was in on the other side of it. 

„I’ll let them know. I think that’s all. Luxor replied to your proposition, but I haven’t had the chance to read through it yet,“ Lou said and Harry nodded before he sat down at his desk. 

„I’ll take a look. If you don’t hear any glass shattering they agreed,“ Harry joked and Lou rolled his eyes. He liked the young man, loved that he did not take any bullshit from anyone and especially him.

„Oh before I forget, the delivery of the marble for your kitchen renovation has been pushed back again. I will call there and ask what the hold up is, once it’s not the middle of the night in Italy,“ Lou said and Harry sighed. 

„Should just have taken the damn stone that was available,“ he mumbled, a little annoyed. 

He had let his interior designer talk him into some (probably) overpriced marble for his kitchen countertops and island that had been delayed four times already. Everything was finished except for the marble. And while yes, he knew whining about his 16 million dollar penthouse being a construction site was whining on a level most people would bully him for, but he was still annoyed. 

„Do me a favour and just tell the interior designer to pick some available fucking stone if they postpone again? I really wanna be able to use my own kitchen after nine months!“ He said and Lou nodded. 

„I’ll let you know,“ he said before he closed the door behind him and let Harry alone in his office. 

He reached for the cup of coffee that had already been placed on his desk, taking a sip as his laptop powered up. 

Five hours before he gets to leave. 

All in all, your first full day teaching at the new school had gone very well. 

Miss Cooper, who was heavily pregnant and would leave at the end of this week, had taken you into the classroom and you had spend and hour answering every single question the kids had. 

Of course you having your own horse that was now living its best life on a ranch outside of your hometown (your father’s best friend had taken it in for you) was the one topic that was most interesting. 

During lunch break you went into the daycare to pick up Emily, wanting to have lunch with her. 

She told you about all the friends she had already made, clumsily stumbling over her own words when she forgot to take a breath. You were glad she was settling in so well. 

As promised you were waiting for her outside of the daycare once your class was finished for the day, Miss Cooper telling you she would take over seeing the kids out. You decided to join her instead, Emily settled against your hip. She was very tired.  

The school ground was filled with parents and children alike, all waiting to go home after a long day of learning. Emily’s head was leaning against your shoulder as you watched over the chaos. 

„There is a list with who is authorised to pick up the kids. I think you’ll have down the faces of the people who usually come to pick up down quickly. If someone else is picking a child up, the person in the morning usually lets us know. Like today, Daniel is not getting picked up by his mother, but by his uncle,“ she ran a finger down her list. 

„Here he is. Harry Castillo,“ Miss Cooper said and you swore you could feel your heart stop for a small moment, before it picked up again. 

„Oh I remember him. Super nice and super attractive,“ she whispered for only you to hear and you smiled a little. 

„Don’t let your husband hear that,“ you tried to joke, making her chuckle. She rubbed her hand over her belly and sighed. 

„Is a baby in there?“ Emily chose to ask in that moment, pointing towards her and you both laughed. 

„Indeed there is. A little baby boy that will hopefully come out sooner than later,“ she joked, with a fond smile. 

„Cool,“ was all Emily said and you rolled your eyes a little, kissing her head. 

„Daniel! Your uncle is here!“ Miss Cooper called over her shoulder and little footsteps were quickly approaching from behind. You pulled Emily closer, turned your back towards the front where he must be approaching. 

It couldn’t be him, right?

There probably were a million Harry Castillo’s out there. 

„Miss Cooper!“ You heard a voice behind you and you closed your eyes for a moment, your shoulders tensing because you knew that voice. 

„Mister Castillo. I heard there will be ice cream today?“ Miss Cooper made small talk while you still had your back towards them, seemingly keeping an eye on the children. 

„We are also gonna search for a birthday gift for his mom,“ he explained. 

„That sounds like a perfect plan,“ Miss Cooper said before she met your eyes. 

„This is the lovely woman who is gonna replace me when I go on maternity leave at the end of the week,“ she added your name and you took a deep breath before you finally turned around, lips pressed into a tight smile. 

His lips parted the moment his eyes found yours and he whispered your name. 

He was still as handsome as you remembered, a little more grey in his hair than before maybe. 

He blinked at you, then his focus slipped to Emily who was about to fall asleep in your arms. The girl who looked so much like him. 

„Uncle Harry!“ Daniel’s voice interrupted this reunion, crashing into Harry’s side who shook his head for a moment before he picked Daniel up with a groan and a wide smile. 

„Hey there buddy! You ready for ice cream?“

„For lunch?“ Daniel gasped and Harry winked at him with a nod. 

„Where is your coat?“ Miss Cooper asked and Daniel’s eye became big. 

„Inside,“ he whispered and Harry put him down. 

„Come on, I’m going in with you. Need to go to the restroom for the fiftieth time today,“ she joked, before walking away and into the building with Daniel. 

Which left you alone with him. 

When you finally looked at him again, he was already looking at you. He looked confused. Happy? Shocked? 

„You never called,“ he said quietly and you released a long breath. 

You shook your head. 

„How….“ He looked at Emily again who was now fast asleep in your arms. 

„How old is she?“ He croaked. 

„She’s turning three in four months,“ you whispered and you saw the moment he did the math, his lips parting, before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

„And you never called?“ He whispered, eyes watering. 

„What we had? I didn’t want to… I didn’t think it would be the same. We didn’t know each other. Not really. I wanted it… to stay a beautiful memory. It’s why I threw your number away before I even reached the airport,“ you tried to explain. 

You looked away from him and over the by now almost empty schoolyard.

„And when I found out that I was pregnant? It was too late,“ you added quietly. 

„You are right. It was a beautiful memory,“ he said and you looked up at him. You heard the door behind you open. 

„But maybe now you’ll give me chance to make more of those memories?“ He asked and you gulped. 

„We can go!“ Daniel, wearing his coat now, impatiently took Harry’s hand who laughed. 

„I’ll see you tomorrow,“ Harry said, taking one last look at you and at Emily before he turned away, letting Daniel pull him towards the street. 

When they were gone, you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, your mind running wild. 

He was here.

Harry was here

In a city of over 8 million people you ran into him on your first day at work. 

And he knew about you and Emily now. 

Kissing her head you slowly turned around to walk into the building to get your bags. 

A part of you was scared what a man with as much money and power could do now that he knew he had a child. 

But the bigger part of you, the one that never admitted even to yourself that you fell in love with Harry on that island, was holding on to the hope that maybe all of this was faith. 

And the start of something beautiful.