#and the relationship is developing during the second life

[varpusvaras]

Bail stares up at the sky and looks his death in the eye.

He wakes up with a start and almost falls down, but his descent is stopped by the edge of a desk that is suddenly right in front of him. He grabs at it and stops himself from hitting his chin on it, and stares, with his arms shaking and his breath caught up somewhere in his throat.

He is not sure how long he stands there, staring at the desk which sudden existence he cannot comprehend, when there is a sound somewhere to his left and footsteps coming closer.

"Bail?" It's a woman's voice, so familiar but one he knows he shouldn't be hearing speaking to him. "Sir?"

Bail lifts his head and looks over at the voice.

He looks right into Sheltay's face, currently laced over with thin worry.

Bail stares at her. She has been gone for so long, but her face is now clear in his mind and she stands there, just like she was back then, just like she was before they had lost her. He had almost forgotten how much Winter looks like her mother, but there is no doubt of it now.

A new fear grips him. Was Winter off planet, when it all happened? He is not sure suddenly. She must've been, because Bail isn't sure what he is going to say to Sheltay otherwise. He focuses on her again, and thinks, frantically. Shouldn't she know it already? If Winter is also gone, now, shouldn't Sheltay know it by now, shouldn't her daughter be here with her? No, no, Winter must've been off the planet, just like Leia, otherwise he-

Bail looks at Sheltay again. No. No, something is not- something is not correct. Sheltay had cut her hair, just a couple of weeks before the accident, but it is now long and tied high up, like she used to style it when she was still working on as his aide back in the Senate. Bail looks at her more closely. It has been so long since he has last seen her, but...

Sheltay looks truly concerned now.

"Sir?" She calls again, and takes a step closer. "Is everything alright?"

Is everything alright? Bail thinks, almost hysterically. Is everything alright? You are dead. I am dead. Or at least we both should be.

Sheltay doesn't look dead, though, and Bail certainly doesn't feel like dead, either, as he draws in a breath to his now burning lungs. He draws in another, then another, before he feels like he knows again how breathing properly works. Breathing shouldn't feel necessary for someone who was dead, and Bail does feel the instant relief in his body with every breath he takes in.

"I", he starts. He what? He doesn't know what to say. If this isn't what comes after death, what is supposed to happen when one becomes one with the Force, then what is this?

He breathes in deeply again, just to ground himself further. He looks down on his hands, still holding onto the desk. He recognises the desk, now. It's his desk, the one he used to have in his office back in the Senate. He looks furher down, towards his feet. He recognises the carpet beneath them, as well.

He lifts his head and looks around once more. He is in his office, back in the Senate Building, but something is not correct with it either. Leia had been the one using the office more often now, and she had changed some of the decorations and brought in things of her own, and none of those were there now. The place looks just like it had back when Bail had been the only one to use it, back in the days when the Republic had still been standing.

"Bail", Sheltay is now standing right next to him, and reaching out towards him with her hand. "Are you not well? Do I need to call someone?"

Bail looks at her again. Yes, he can now see it. She is younger than what she had been at the time of her death. She is not wearing any of the gifts her husband would so often give to her. She looks just like she had back then, back when the Republic had still been standing, back when the War had been ripping the Galaxy apart.

Bail turns around. He has a row of glass cabinets situated behind his desk, and he looks at himself from the reflection of them.

He had already expected it, seeing himself with all the years gained during the reign of the Empire taken away. There is not even a hint of grey in his hair, and there are so many lines missing from his face that he almost thinks it funny for a moment. Then Sheltay is grabbing his arm, forcing him to look back at her.

"I'm serious", she says. She is looking him over now, her eyes racing over him up and down. "Do you need a doctor?"

Bail shakes his head.

"No", he manages to say. "No, I- I just need to sit down for a moment."

He really does. He takes a step forward, to walk around his desk, and Sheltay guides him over to he couch and quite firmly sits him down.

"Do I need to call someone else?" Sheltay asks again. "Breha?"

Bail looks out of the window, at the pale colours of Coruscant's morning sky. He then glances at the chrono on the wall. It's still early on Alderaan, too early. Breha is not getting up usually until two hours later, earliest. Bail doesn't want to wake her.

It hits him then that in this place he is now, Alderaan is still there. Alderaan and Breha are still there-

-and Leia is not.

It's a strange type of grief he feels then, not one he had thought possible to even exist before this. Leia is not dead, but she is still gone just the same.

Sheltay probably sees him look at the time, as she nods.

"Later, then", she says. "Fox?"

Bail stops breathing.

He stares at Sheltay, because he had been looking at her and cannot make himself move now to look anywhere else.

How could he have forgotten? If Bail is here, if Sheltay is here, if Breha and Alderaan are here, then Fox is here as well.

"Fox", He tries out his name out loud, and Sheltay seems to take that as a confirmation, as she takes out her commlink and starts typing on it.

Bail manages to move, and takes the moment to look up the date.

It's- he is barely second year into the War. It doesn't seem logical, for him to be put in here, in this time, if he truly is dead, not if not for some kindness from the Force, giving him a glimpse of a time when he truly thought there was still a possibility for a brighter future to be right around the corner, when most of the people he loved were still there with him.

It's just strange, to have only him be aware of it all, and not Sheltay. Bail doesn't remember a day like this ever happening before, not that it matters, if this is just some illusion before he finally ceases to exist completely. It's strange, to make everything appear right like it was so long ago, and not like it had been just before his death. It was strange, to make himself feel so alive, just to have him be dead.

Perhaps, a thought enters his mind and doesn't leave. Perhaps you really aren't dead. Perhaps you're here because of all the mistakes you made, and you need to repent for them, before you can let go and move on.

It almost makes him laugh. That, he thinks, that he can do.

Sheltay puts her commlink away, and sits next to him on the couch.

"He said that he will be here as soon as he can", she says. She puts her hand on top of Bail's, and it's warm.

Bail breathes in and nods.

"Thank you", he says, and then it hits him that Fox is alive.

He had thought of it just a moment earlier, but now it truly realises for him that Fox is alive. He has been gone so long as well, so long, too long. Bail has already grieved him in his heart, to a point he has almost stopped hurting so much. Bail had thought, briefly, during his last moments, that perhaps they could still meet before the very end, if he just hadn't already crossed over to where there was nothing left, but this-

This is an entirely different thing.

He needs to call Breha and tell her, he thinks, briefly, before he has to wonder if Breha remembers either. If it's really just him. That does make the most sense, as Bail is the one who had done all the mistakes, not Breha.

Perhaps he's in his thoughts for longer than he thinks he is, because suddenly the door is sliding open, and Fox is stumbling in, his hands already pulling his helmet off of his head.

"I'm here", he says. He's breathing hard, like he had just been running. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure-" Sheltay starts, but Bail doesn't hear what she is saying. He stands up, and walks towards Fox. Fox, who is hurrying to put his helmet down on the desk, in order to get his hands free, and then walking towards him.

Bail looks at him as he walks. He remembers it all now, how Fox used to look back then during this time. The way his hair curls over his forehead, where the silver strands are on his temples, how his eyes shift from dark brown to golden when the sliver of sunlight from the window hits them just right. There are a few things missing, things that Bail knows only came later. The way his skin would be bruised just from pure exhaustion. The way he would be tense, even when he was trying to relax, just for a moment. This was, is, before all of that. This is before that one night, when everything had started to unravel. This is before Fox had started to cry himself to sleep every night, calling himself all the horrible names there existed in the Galaxy.

This is before all of that. Fox still looks just like he had when he had still looked at Bail and Breha with wonder in his eyes and a smile on his lips whenever they would say I love you.

He looks just as beautiful as Bail remembers.

Fox opens his mouth to say something, but he is so close already, and Bail cannot wait for anything. He pulls Fox into his arms and holds him, trying to feel him through the armor. He buries his face into Fox's neck, not caring about the cold, hard alloy of his pauldron digging into him, and thinks he can hear his heartbeat beneath the warm, tan skin.

There are hands on his back, then one at the back of his head.

"Bail?" He hears Fox's voice clearly from this close, even though he is speaking quietly, almost whispering. "Are you alright?"

Bail breathes in Fox's scent before answering, a mixture of regulation soap, bolt residue and armor polish and just him beneath it all.

"Yes."

"You're crying."

Oh. Bail lifts his face up, just a bit, and blinks. There are tears stuck to his eyelashes, heavy and warm, and he thinks he can see some having landed on Fox as well, if he looks closely enough.

"I'm sorry", he mumbles. It has been a while he has cried, or been overwhelmed like this. He had not given himself permission for being nothing else but calm, when he had heard about Leia being captured. He had not let himself cry when he had held Breha as they awaited for their death, no matter how much he had wanted to do so. Breha had needed him too much for him to fall apart even more.

"It's okay", Fox says. He is carding his fingers through Bail's hair. "What's going on?"

So much. So much is going on, and Bail doesn't know where or when to start.

He knows he needs to decide on those, sooner or later, but before any of that, he has one thing to say.

"I love you", he whispers against Fox's skin.

Fox stills, just for a moment, a moment long enough for Bail to wonder if the version of him Fox had known before in this time had even gotten to say it yet.

Then he continues, running his fingers up and down, his other hand on Bail's back holding onto him just a little tighter.

"I love you too", he whispers back. Bail closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he's ready to take on the Galaxy, once again.

[ilovebabyonboard]

Everytime, I Choose You

PAIRING: Bob Floyd x Civilian Wife!Reader

CATEGORY: Fluff, slight angst

SUMMARY: You’ve loved Bob Floyd since before either of you knew what love was. Now, with a toddler in your arms, a baby on the way, and a Navy career pulling you in opposite directions, you’re learning what it really means to build a life across time zones—and hold on to each other through it all. Soft reunions, stolen moments, found family, and the quiet kind of love that stays.

WORD COUNT: 6.5K

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, parenting struggles, long distance relationship stress, mild emotional distress. not proofreade, did a whole lot of writting without knowing where I wanted it to go with it so bare with me

You’ve known Bob Floyd for as long as you can remember.

He lived in the little gray house next door — the one with the creaky swing set and the patch of lawn his mom could never keep alive. ou met the way kids often do—tugged along behind your moms because they were the kind of women who believed in neighborly cookouts and holiday potlucks, the kind who'd swap recipes and stories over sizzling grills while you two chased each other barefoot through sprinklers and smoky air.

He was the quiet boy with glasses that kept slipping down his nose, a buzz cut that made his head look perpetually surprised, and scraped-up knees from racing his bike down the cul-de-sac like it was an Olympic event. You weren’t much louder—soft-spoken, wide-eyed, often half-hiding behind your mom’s leg or the hem of your favorite overalls—but somehow, the two of you always found each other in the noise. You’d sit cross-legged on the porch sharing popsicles or wander through sprinkler mist like tiny explorers, not saying much, but never quite apart.

You didn’t declare him your best friend. You just were. The kind of kids who ended up in all the same photos, shoulder to shoulder, blinking into the sun. And he never minded—not the quiet, not the way you always hovered nearby, not even the way you both grew up without ever really growing apart.

You were inseparable—two halves of a quiet, unspoken language. Your parents joked you were practically siblings. But even then, something about the way Bob looked at you—careful, soft, like you were something rare he didn’t want to startle—was different.

You carved your initials into the same tree at the end of sixth grade. You made a dumb joke about it being your “friendship monument,” and Bob had smiled so wide you swore the sun got caught in his glasses. It wasn’t love. Not then. But it felt like something that mattered. Like someday, it might be.

By the time high school rolled around, things started to shift.

You still walked to school together. Still shared secrets and late-night phone calls and summer movies where he let you rest your head on his shoulder without saying a word. But Bob had grown into his body, grown to be 6'0, and developed a very unfair jawline. You noticed.

Worse, he started acting weird.

There were moments — tiny, fleeting — where everything felt different.

The time you caught him staring just a little too long when you laughed. The way his hand hovered near yours for a second too long during study sessions. The time you cried after your first heartbreak, and he held you like it physically hurt him not to fix it.

He never said anything. He was never that bold. But you felt it.

And slowly, your feelings started to mirror his.

You realized you were in love with him one night in your junior year, sitting on his roof after a school dance you hadn’t gone to. He was in sweats and a hoodie, leaning back on his elbows, talking softly about how the stars were already dead by the time we see their light. And your heart just… knew.

You turned to look at him and thought, Oh. It’s always been you.

You kissed him the next week.

It was late—past ten, a school night—and you were in your room, both pretending to study but mostly just laying across your bed with textbooks open and music playing low from your speaker. He was flipping through your notes, teasing you for your doodles in the margins, and you were trying not to stare at the way his mouth curled when he smiled.

At some point, you both got quiet. Not in a heavy, serious way—just the kind of quiet that settles in when two people are entirely at ease.

You looked up from your notebook to say something, and he was already looking at you.

And it just… happened.

Not dramatic, not planned. Just a kiss that felt like exhaling. Like opening a door you hadn’t realized was always unlocked.

He looked at you like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to want this, and you leaned in like you’d always known it would end this way.

It was soft. A little clumsy. But real. And warm. And safe. He froze. Then kissed you back like he was afraid he’d wake up from it. Like he didn’t know what to do with his hands (he didn’t — they kind of just hovered like he was buffering). And when you pulled back, breathless, he whispered shyly, “I’ve been waiting for that since the third grade.”

You were his first everything after that. His first real kiss. First hand held beneath bleachers, hearts pounding against linked palms. First person he ever trusted with the quieter, more fragile parts of himself—the ones he kept hidden even from his parents. You learned him slowly, like a language, and he let you. Word by word, moment by moment. He never made it easy, but he never made you guess, either. Not when it really mattered.

So when Bob told you, senior year, that he wanted to join the Navy, he said it like a secret he didn’t want to keep. Like he was handing it to you gently, scared it might crack open everything you’d built together.

You didn’t flinch.

“You’re gonna fly, huh?” you asked, nudging his arm with your shoulder. The two of you were stretched out across the hood of his truck, parked at the edge of that old service road no one else ever bothered with. The sky was clear. Stars above like a map you didn’t know how to read.

“If they let me,” he said, barely louder than the crickets. “I just… I feel like I’d be good at it. I want to do something that matters.”

“You already do,” you said, like it was the simplest truth. And it was. “But if that’s where you’re meant to go, then go. Just…” Your voice caught. You turned your head so he wouldn’t see. “Write me, okay? A lot.”

He was quiet for a second. Then he leaned in, warm and steady, and kissed your cheek. His lips lingered like he didn’t want to pull away.

“Every chance I get,” he whispered.

And he meant it. Every letter, every email, every slow Sunday phone call—he kept that promise like it was sacred.

Boot camp was hard. So was flight school. The distance wore on you in places you didn’t know could ache—quiet places, like the space between heartbeats, or the seconds between texts that didn’t come fast enough. Some nights, the silence felt louder than any goodbye ever had.

But Bob never made you doubt him.

Even when he was thousands of miles away, when his world became early mornings and aching muscles and orders barked through static—he made time for you. He sent hand-written letters whenever he could, the envelopes soft at the edges from travel, always filled with little sketches in the margins—birds he saw on base, clouds shaped like hearts, doodles of you in your overalls with hearts around your head. He told you everything. How tired he was. How badly the food sucked. How homesick he was for your laugh, your cooking, the way your fingers combed through his hair when he couldn’t sleep.

You FaceTimed at odd hours, each call a small lifeline. Sometimes the connection cut in and out, freezing his face mid-smile or distorting your voice until you both started laughing. Sometimes you just sat in silence, watching each other exist, breathing in sync. You whispered I love yous across time zones and bad Wi-Fi, clinging to the sound of his voice like oxygen.

And every time he came home on leave, he held you like the world had stopped spinning without you in it.

There were reunions on front porches, airport gates, parking lots—messy and breathless, tears caught in your lashes before he even made it all the way into your arms. He’d bury his face in your neck, whisper something like, “God, I missed you,” and you’d feel the truth of it in your bones.

Time moved. Seasons changed. You wrote letters and made playlists and sent care packages with little notes tucked between socks and granola bars. He flew. He grew. And through it all, you remained—each other’s constant.

He proposed on your fifth anniversary, in your old backyard, standing beneath the tree where your initials were still carved into the bark—faded, but there. You didn’t know he had a ring. You didn’t even know he’d planned anything. But he reached for your hands with a look you’d known since childhood, the one that said you’re home, and dropped to one knee like he’d been waiting his whole life for this one moment.

“I can’t picture my life without you in it, Y/N,” he said, voice shaking just enough to make your heart stutter. “You’ve been my best friend, my reason, my everything. Will you marry me?”

You were crying before he finished. Laughing, too, because of course. Of course it was always going to be him.

You said yes with your whole heart—before he could even finish the question.

And he smiled like he had that day you carved your names into the tree, like the sun was caught in his glasses again. Like everything had finally come full circle.

Marriage with Bob wasn’t flashy or loud — it was steady. The kind of love that didn’t need an audience, because it had roots too deep to be shaken.

It was built on years of shared glances and slow-burn devotion. On a friendship that grew into something sacred, something safe. A thousand little rituals became your language: the way he’d tuck handwritten love notes into your coat pocket before every deployment — folded three times, always sealed with your initials and a tiny heart. The way you’d greet him on the front porch after months away with his favorite meal already warming on the stove, lights low, arms open like a home he’d never left.

It was forehead kisses before sunrise and tangled limbs long past midnight. The soft rhythm of his hand rubbing slow circles on your back when you were sick or sore or simply worn thin. The way you cradled his face in your palms when the weight of the world — of the cockpit, of the distance, of the danger — grew too heavy on his shoulders.

With Bob, love was in the quiet.

It was in the way he memorized your coffee order by heart and always made it just right — even groggy, even rushed. The way he looked at you like you were still the girl next door in grass-stained jeans, even when you were pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen, hair a mess and eyes tired.

There were no grand declarations. No over-the-top gestures.

Just a million tiny choices, every day.

And the unshakable truth that he was yours — and you were his — in every way that mattered.

When Arvin came along — your sleepy-eyed boy. Another airplane-obsessed little one, a perfect miniature of his father right down to the dark blue eyes and thoughtful silences — Bob stepped into fatherhood with the same quiet reverence he brought to everything he loved.

He was gentle from the very first breath, holding your newborn son like he might break if he exhaled too hard. He whispered lullabies into soft baby curls at 3 a.m., slow and low, even when his voice cracked from sleep. He changed diapers without complaint, one hand always resting lightly on Arvin's tiny chest, like he couldn’t quite believe he was real.

He read bedtime stories in silly voices — sometimes dramatically bad British accents, sometimes with the gravitas of a Shakespearean actor reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Arvin would giggle and clap and demand “again,” and Bob would oblige every time, without fail, even when his eyes were rimmed with exhaustion from a long day on base.

He taught Arvin how to fold paper planes with surgical precision, adjusting wings and creases like it was an art form. He'd cheer when they soared, groan dramatically when they crash-landed, and patiently help him try again. You once caught them both lying on the floor for an hour, surrounded by a fleet of multicolored paper aircraft, Bob explaining lift and drag in a voice just above a whisper.

And when he thought you weren’t listening — when the house was quiet, the baby limp with sleep in his arms — you’d hear him murmur into the soft crook of Arvin's neck, “I love you so much, buddy. So, so much.” As if he was pouring every ounce of feeling into those five words, like they were sacred.

And now?

Now you're sitting alone in your house in Lemoore, the glow of the tablet screen casting pale light over your tired face. Your hand rests instinctively over the small swell of your belly — life growing again, a quiet miracle you wish he could feel beneath his own palm.

And on the screen, there’s Bob.

He looks tired. So do you.

But when your eyes meet, everything else stills — like the world exhales around you.

The video calls never feel long enough though.

No matter how much you try to pretend they do.

You were overjoyed for Bob when he first told you he’d been recruited for a special mission at TOPGUN. His voice had held that rare spark — the kind of excitement that only came when he talked about flying. It was supposed to be a temporary assignment, just a few weeks of intense training and high-stakes simulations.

But those weeks stretched into months.

Then the higher-ups asked him to stay longer — first through the summer, then into the fall. Every extension came with the same promise: just a little while more. And each time, you swallowed your disappointment and smiled, because you were proud. Because this was Bob's dream — and you had always known that loving him meant loving the sky that called him away.

Eventually, those few weeks turned into more than a year. From the start of your pregnancy to now.

You try to fill the space between your words, the ones you don’t know how to say, by smiling extra bright, by asking him about the weather or how his new flight simulator is working. You talk about anything, anything to make the minutes stretch a little longer — but they never do.

Bob’s face glows softly on your tablet screen, the dim light from his room casting shadows across his features, making him look younger, more vulnerable than he does when he’s in uniform. His hair is still mussed from the helmet, the lines around his eyes deepened from exhaustion, but there’s a softness there too, something just for you.

You watch as his gaze drifts to Arvin in the background. The boy is jabbering about airplanes and apples, or maybe it’s just a string of nonsense words he’s gotten attached to, you’re not sure. Bob watches him like he’s a miracle — like the sound of his son’s voice is enough to keep him tethered to this world.

You’re only half-listening, your gaze on Bob’s face, on his smile as he watches Arvin, but your hand rests lightly over the small curve of your stomach, the weight of it both grounding and quieting you in a way you can’t explain.

And then Bob notices.

He always does.

“Is he sleeping okay now?” His voice is quiet, tentative, like the question itself is a thread he’s afraid will snap if he pulls too hard. He leans in slightly, like he can close the distance with just the weight of his eyes. His gaze flickers to the side — to Arvin, to the room, anywhere but you, and then back to you, searching.

You nod, though it feels like a lie. “Mostly. Still wakes up crying for you sometimes.”

You watch as his expression shifts, as the words hang between you, thick with the distance neither of you wants to acknowledge.

Bob swallows hard, the movement of his throat so subtle, but you catch it. You always catch it. His jaw tightens just enough that you can see it, the silent, invisible tension that coils within him. It’s like he’s holding his breath, waiting for something he can’t put into words.

“And you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes hold yours, steady and searching, and there’s a tenderness there — a rawness that almost makes you want to look away.

You hesitate, your chest aching, the weight of his question heavy in the space between you. You know what he wants to hear. You know it. You want to say, I’m good. I’m fine. We’re managing. You want to, but the words feel hollow.

Instead, you stay quiet. And somehow, that speaks louder than anything else.

Bob leans forward, his face coming into focus on the screen as his eyes soften — a small, fleeting thing, like a crack in a dam that might let the flood rush through. You see the way his brow furrows, the flicker of frustration that crosses his face, like he wants to reach through the screen and pull you into his arms.

“I hate this,” he says, his voice barely audible, as though saying it aloud would make the ache too real. “I hate not being there. Not… with you.”

Your heart aches at the softness of his words, the vulnerability in them. The quiet way he admits it, like it’s a secret he’s been carrying too long. You force a smile, but it’s thin, worn, fragile.

“I hate it too, Bobby.” Your voice trembles just enough for him to hear it, but you don’t let yourself say anything more.

The call flickers. The feed stutters once, twice, like the connection itself is reluctant to let go. And then, just like that, the screen goes black, and all you’re left with is the empty space around you. The silence stretches, suffocating in its weight.

You sit there on the edge of your bed, the cold light of the screen still lingering in your peripheral vision, the hum of the air conditioner too loud in the stillness of the room.

But there’s only the ache.

A quiet, persistent ache that pulses behind your ribs, that lingers even after the call has ended, and the miles between you stretch too far to bridge.

And you wonder, for the thousandth time, if this will always be the way of it — these small, stolen moments that never feel long enough.

A few days later — North Island, San Diego

You didn’t argue when Bob told you he was flying you out. You should’ve — you had your own command to report to, your own stack of overdue emails and unfinished reports — but the exhaustion had sunk too deep into your bones. It was the kind of tired that sleep couldn’t fix. So when he said, “Please, just come out here. I need you here,” in that low, quiet voice that always made something in your chest loosen, you didn’t even try to fight it.

Because the truth was, you needed him too.

Now, standing just inside the hangar, the scent of oil and sunbaked concrete mixing with the faint salt of the sea air, you shift Arvin higher on your hip. He’s dozing against your shoulder, warm and heavy and clutching your collar in one sticky little fist, the remnants of a cherry lollipop smudged near his mouth. His soft breaths tickle your neck, and you press your cheek gently to his hair, breathing him in.

Your flight jacket is unzipped halfway, the soft curve of your belly peeking beneath the edge of your shirt. The baby stirs — a slow, fluttering kick — and your hand moves instinctively to rest there. Protective. Quiet. A silent hello.

You feel exposed, somehow. Not from the eyes of others, but from the sheer openness of being here, in his world again — the place where he comes alive in ways he tries not to show you over a screen. There’s no buffer now. No distance to soften the weight of how much you’ve missed him.

And then, like the thought conjures him — you see him.

Bob steps out from between two aircraft, still half in his flight suit, sleeves tied around his waist, sweat-damp curls falling messily over his forehead. His helmet dangles from one hand, the other runs through his hair in a gesture you’ve seen a thousand times. Nervous. Hopeful. Tired.

He spots you instantly.

His whole face softens.

You don’t wave. He doesn’t smile. It’s quieter than that.

He crosses the hangar in long, purposeful strides — not rushing, but close. His gaze never leaves yours. And when he reaches you, he sets his helmet down without looking, cupping your face with one warm, calloused hand.

You let your eyes close. Just for a second.

“You came,” he murmurs, like he doesn’t quite believe it.

You nod, the lump in your throat making words impossible for a moment. “Of course I did.”

Bob leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, slow and deliberate, lingering there like he’s trying to breathe you in. When he pulls back, his eyes flicker down — to your belly, to Arvin still asleep on your shoulder — and something flickers across his face.

Wonder. Gratitude. Love.

“Hi, baby,” he says softly, reaching out to run a thumb across the swell of your stomach, his touch reverent. Then his hand moves gently to Arvin's back, rubbing slow circles as he leans in. “Hey, little man. Miss me?”

Arvin's head lolls as he turns, blinking up at him. “Daddy,” he mumbles, drowsy but smiling.

Bob cradles him to his chest with practiced ease, like no time has passed at all. You watch as his fingers press gently against Arvin's back — counting, you think. Checking. Making sure he’s real.

And then he looks at you.

Really looks.

At your face, your tired eyes, your jacket stretched a little tighter over your middle than last time. His gaze lingers there, gentle and awed, and when it lifts again, there’s something raw in it.

“God, I missed you,” he says, his voice thick.

You reach up to fix his glasses from sliding down his nose, your fingers lingering. “I missed you more.”

He kisses you then — soft, sweet, a little breathless. The kind of kiss that feels like a beginning and a homecoming all at once.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, your world feels whole again.

Later That Night – Bob’s Quarters

The quarters are dimly lit, save for the warm glow of the overhead light above the small kitchen nook. The base housing isn’t big — just one long room split by a thin curtain and a kitchenette that hums faintly with the old fridge. But it’s clean. Lived-in now.

You’re curled up on Bob’s neatly made bunk, legs tucked to the side, with Arvin asleep on your chest — his little fingers curled in the collar of your shirt. Bob is across from you on the floor, back against the side of the bed, legs stretched out. His glasses have slid halfway down his nose as he finishes washing and drying a single baby bottle like it’s mission critical.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed this,” he says, voice soft enough not to wake Arvin. “You. Him. The burp cloths.”

You grin, brushing a hand through Arvin’s soft hair. “You say that now. Wait until he starts screaming at 2 a.m. because he can’t find his stuffy.”

Bob looks up at you, warm amusement in his eyes. “Then I’ll be glad I’ve still got my hearing protection from the cockpit.”

He stands and walks over, kneeling beside the bed so he’s eye-level with the two of you. He kisses Arvin’s temple, then your forehead. “Thank you for coming. I know this wasn’t easy.”

Before you can answer—

The door bursts open.

“Hey Floyd, you le— what the fuck.”

It’s Hangman. Behind him, Rooster, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy and two fresh faced recruits stand frozen in the doorway like they just walked into the wrong house. Phoenix lingers in the back with her arms crossed, clearly not surprised — but enjoying the boys reaction.

She was the only member of the dagger squad who knew of her WSO’s little family.

Everyone stares.

You stare.

Arvin stirs and lets out a soft grunt, then burrows deeper into your chest.

Bob doesn’t move. His hand stays on your knee, protective but not ashamed. “Hey, uh… guys.”

Hangman points, blinking. “What the hell is going on here?”

Rooster looks like his brain just blue-screened. “Are we in the right place?”

Phoenix smirks. “Yep.”

Bob clears his throat. “This is my wife. And that’s our son, Arvin.”

Fanboy mouths the word son and glances at Payback, who just raises his eyebrows and gives a low whistle.

One of the recruits awkwardly raises a hand like he’s in school. “Sir… you have a baby?”

Bob straightens a little. “Yes. And he’s sleeping. So... maybe keep it down?”

The room falls comically silent.

You press your lips together to keep from laughing. Bob's shoulders are tense, but he’s trying not to show it.

Then, Hangman recovers. He steps inside, looks around the room, and crosses his arms. “You mean to tell me quiet little Baby On Board has a whole-ass family he didn’t tell us about?”

Phoenix pipes up from the back. “Told you he had game.”

“I didn’t think you meant married with a baby game,” Rooster mutters, walking in more cautiously.

Fanboy edges over to the sleeping Arvin and crouches. “Man. Look at this little guy. He’s got Bob’s nose.”

Payback leans against the wall. “You been hiding this because you didn’t want us to babysit or what?”

Bob relaxes — just a little. “Didn’t think it was relevant to the mission.”

Hangman raises both hands. “Oh, no. No, no, Bob. This is the mission now. We are absolutely going to teach this kid how to dogfight.”

Rooster rolls his eyes. “He looks barely two.”

“Plenty of time to train,” Hangman says seriously.

You glance at Bob. His ears are red, but he’s smiling now — the slow, warm kind he only gives you when he’s too full of love to say anything else.

And somehow, in this tiny room filled with too many people and not enough space, it feels like home.

The fresh faced recruits are the first to bail.

The shorter one, nervous as a rabbit, nudges his partner. “Uh, Sir… we’ll, uh, just come back… later?” His eyes dart from Arvin’s chubby cheeks to Bob’s unreadable face and back again.

The taller recruit nods too fast. “Congrats, Lieutenant Floyd. Ma’am. Your baby is, uh… looks a lot like Lieutenant Floyd.”

They both retreat like they stumbled into sacred ground. The door shuts softly behind them.

Now it’s just the squad.

And they are settled in.

Rooster is sitting on the floor beside the bed with his back against the wall, chin in his hand as he stares at Arvin like the baby’s a new aircraft schematic. Fanboy has claimed a random pillow and is lying flat on the floor in front of the bunk like he’s cloud-watching. Payback’s perched on the tiny kitchen stool. Phoenix leans against the counter with a small smile, and Hangman…

Hangman is holding up one of Arvin’s tiny onesies like it’s a national treasure.

“Do you see how small this is?” he says dramatically, voice hushed like they’re in a museum. “This could fit on my forearm. I could wear it as a sock.”

You’re trying not to laugh too loud — Arvin sleeping peacefully, cheek smushed against your chest.

“Where’d you get this one?” Fanboy asks, pointing to the onesie in question. “The blue with the little jets?”

“Oh, that was from my sister,” you say. “She said if Bob’s gonna fly jets, Arvin should wear them.”

“Damn right,” says Coyote.

“How old is he?” Rooster asks.

“Fifteen months,” you reply.

Rooster smiles, amused. “And how long did Bob keep this from us?”

Bob, still standing at the foot of the bed, crosses his arms — but not in annoyance. In quiet defense. He’s close, just within reach, like his body’s trying to shield the three of you from the attention.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he says, voice low. “We’ve just been… figuring things out. He was born not long before I got deployed. Didn’t want to make it complicated.”

Fanboy whistles. “Man. You were flying with us every day, then going home to FaceTime with this little dude?”

Bob nods.

“That’s baller,” Rooster mutters.

Hangman squints at you, suddenly serious. “So wait, how long have you two been together?”

You shift Arvin slightly to cradle him better. “Since high school." You smiled sheepishly, "Married three years."

“She helped me study during training,” Bob adds, quieter now, almost shy.

Phoenix perks up. “You helped Bob Floyd study?”

“I did,” you say, grinning.

“Did you know,” Phoenix says, turning to the group, “this man cried when he saw Arvin’s ultrasound photo?”

Bob glares at her. “That was classified.” He coughs awkwardly.

The room erupts into gentle laughter. Even Arvin stirs and lets out a sleepy little sigh, like he approves.

“Alright, alright,” you say, holding up a hand. “Any more questions before we pass around a sign-up sheet for bedtime stories?”

Rooster raises a finger. “Does Arvin like planes?”

Bob answers this time, stepping closer and crouching beside the bed. “He calls them ‘brrr-brrrs.’”

You nod, smiling. “He has a toy F/A-18 that he crashes into everything. Including our dog.”

“Wait,” Fanboy says, eyes wide. “You have a dog too?”

Hangman sits down on the other side of the bed now, hands behind his head, grinning. “Okay. New rule. We all hang out here every Friday. You bring the baby. I’ll bring drinks.”

Bob finally chuckles. “And what if we say no?”

“You won’t,” Phoenix says.

Bob raises an eyebrow.

“I mean,” she adds, “you tolerate us with remarkable patience.”

He doesn’t answer — just reaches over to brush a curl off Arvin’s forehead, his eyes soft and so full of quiet pride it nearly chokes you.

You meet his gaze and smile, mouthing, thank you.

He nods, mouthing back, Always.

Outside, the base is silent. Inside, it’s warm. Loud. Full.

And for the first time in months, Bob lets himself sink into the chaos, just a little — because this is the kind of noise that means you’re home.

After an hour the daggers finally leave you two alone.

The room is finally quiet again.

The door clicked shut ten minutes ago, leaving only the soft hum of the fridge and the rhythm of Arvin’s little breaths against your chest. You can still hear Hangman’s laugh echoing faintly in the hallway, followed by a muffled, “I’m just saying, if the kid’s already saying ‘brrr-brrr,’ he’s halfway to a call sign.”

You smile to yourself.

Bob locks the door behind them, then turns off the kitchen light, leaving the room in the low amber glow of a bedside lamp. He exhales as he leans back against the counter, watching you with a soft kind of awe — like he still can’t quite believe you’re really here.

“Sorry about the ambush,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “Don’t be. They were sweet.”

He nods, walking over slowly, careful not to wake Arvin. “I think they were more excited about his onesies than I was when I got my flight suit.”

You laugh under your breath. “That tracks.”

He crouches beside the bed again, resting a hand lightly on your leg. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You meet his eyes, and your voice softens. “I’m just… really glad we came.”

You shift, carefully sliding Arvin off your chest and onto the middle of the bed. He fusses for a second, then settles again, thumb in his mouth. Bob moves instinctively, pulling the small blanket up over him, tucking it just right.

Then he stands and, without a word, unzips his hoodie and slips into bed beside you, careful not to jostle either of you too much. He lies on his side, one arm under his head, the other resting lightly across your hip.

You shift to face him, your noses close, the space between you quiet and full.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You just breathe. The kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled.

Then Bob speaks — his voice a soft thread in the dark.

“How long can you stay?”

You trace a line along the collar of his shirt with one finger. “A few days. I told my boss I needed personal leave.” You glance up. “They didn’t ask questions.”

Bob’s mouth lifts slightly. “Remind me to send them a thank-you card.”

You smile, but your voice is quieter now. “We’ve missed you. A lot.”

“I know.” His fingers brush your side gently. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”

You reach for his hand and lace your fingers through his. “I don’t want this to feel like a visit. I want it to feel like a pause, you know? Like we’re not counting down already.”

Bob’s eyes search yours — slow, full of something fragile. “Then let’s not count,” he says. “Let’s just… be here.”

You nod.

He shifts a little closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “I was thinking,” he says, “we could take Arvin down to the beach in the morning. Just us. Before it gets crowded.”

You smile. “He’ll eat half the sand, you know that, right?”

“I’ll pack extra wipes,” he murmurs, and you both laugh quietly.

“And maybe,” he adds, hesitating, “we could find time for just us. Even if it’s just an hour. You and me. No schedules. Just… catching up.”

You reach up and trace the edge of his jaw, your thumb brushing the stubble there. “I’d like that.”

His eyes flicker — tired, but glowing. “We’ve been so many places apart,” he says softly. “I want to start building the places we’ve been… together.”

You blink once, hard, then lean forward to press your lips gently to his.

It’s not a kiss full of heat or hunger — it’s full of knowing. Of being known. A kiss that says: I’m here. I still choose you. Every time.

When you pull back, your voice is barely a whisper.

“So what’s the plan tomorrow?”

Bob exhales slowly. “Beach in the morning. Maybe breakfast after that. Arvin’s nap around noon.” He pauses, then smiles. “And if he’s down long enough, I thought maybe I could read to you for a while. The baby books, I mean. I’ve been practicing.”

You laugh softly. “I’d love that.”

He kisses your temple, then your cheek. “And I’ll make dinner. Nothing fancy, but—”

“You’re cooking?” you tease, eyebrows raised.

“I’ve improved since the incident with the instant rice,” he says solemnly.

“Have you?”

“Well… slightly supervised cooking.”

You laugh again, and then settle closer, your head resting beneath his chin, one arm across his chest. His fingers trace gentle circles against your back.

Bob exhales, his voice the last thing you hear before sleep starts to pull you under.

“I wish I could freeze this,” he whispers. “Just… hold it all still.”

You press your lips to his collarbone. “You don’t have to. We’re here now.”

Bob's gaze drifts to your belly.

“She been kicking a lot today?” he asks looking down at you , voice soft. God, you loved when he looked at you with his dark blue eyes through his glasses.

You nod, bitting your lip. “Like she’s doing laps in there.”

A small, crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He reaches out, hesitates, then places his palm gently over the curve of your belly.

“I keep picturing her,” he says, almost like he’s afraid to say it out loud. “Not just what she’ll look like — though I think she’ll have your face — but like… the little things. Her laugh. The sound of her feet on the floor. Her asking questions I don’t know how to answer.”

You watch him quietly, your heart aching in that full, overwhelming way only he can make it ache.

“She’s gonna be loud,” you say with a smile. “Louder than Arvin, maybe.”

Bob huffs a soft laugh.

A beat passes. Then, in a quieter voice: “Still want to name her Aubrey?”

You nod. “Do you?”

He swallows. “Yeah. I, uh… I was listening to the song the night you told me. And I just… I don’t know. It stuck.”

You can hear the song in your head now — Aubrey by Bread— soft and sad and full of things left unspoken. A strange choice for a baby’s name, maybe. But also perfect. Gentle. Old-fashioned. Honest.

“I love it,” you whisper.

He glances up at you, relieved. “Good. 'Cause I already made a playlist.”

You laugh softly, resting your forehead against his. “Of course you did.”

“She’s gonna have good music taste,” he mumbles. “I’ll start her early. Bread, Simon & Garfunkel, Fleetwood Mac…”

“You’re making a dad playlist.”

His ears turn red. “Is that bad?”

“No,” you whisper. “It’s perfect.”

He brushes his thumb lightly over the swell of your stomach, then looks down at Arvin, still nestled against you. “I just want them to feel safe. Always. Like… like no matter what, I’ll be here.”

“You will be,” you say.

Bob doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Just breathes. Then finally, voice barely audible:

“I still don’t feel like I’m enough for this. For you. For them.”

You tilt your head, resting a hand on his cheek. “You’re already more than enough. Every single day.”

He closes his eyes at that. Nods.

And then, so quietly you almost miss it: “I hope she has your laugh.”

You smile, feeling the baby shift inside you, almost like she heard him. Like she’s saying I’m here, too.

Sleep comes for you slowly, like the tide—gentle, inevitable, pulling you under in waves.

Your eyes flutter, heavy-lidded, and the warmth of Bob beside you lulls you deeper into it. His fingers are still tracing quiet circles on your back, and his breathing has settled into that soft, steady rhythm you’ve always found comfort in. Arvin is tucked between you, his tiny body curled toward yours, mouth slack around his thumb, breaths even and small.

Bob shifts, just slightly, and you feel his hand slide from your back to the swell of your belly, his palm resting there with the kind of reverence that says: I know you're in there, and I love you already.

The weight of his arm wraps around you protectively. Not tight. Just there. Grounding. Like a tether you didn’t know you needed until now.

And then—his hand stretches further, carefully, reaching across you until his fingertips find Arvin’s small shoulder, barely brushing. It's the lightest touch, but it holds all the weight in the world. A father holding his whole world in the span of two palms.

You’re somewhere between awake and dreaming when you feel his breath against your temple.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You don’t respond—can’t, really—but your body shifts instinctively, curling toward him just a little more. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then one to the top of Arvin’s head. His hand never leaves your belly.

Outside, the night is still. The fridge hums. Somewhere in the distance, a car passes, but it doesn’t reach you here.

Bob stays awake for a little while longer, just watching you sleep. He lets his gaze linger on the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle rhythm of the baby’s kicks beneath his palm, and the tiny hand of his son curled near your collarbone.

His chest tightens in that familiar way—love too big for his ribcage, like it might break him open. But it's the good kind of ache. The kind he’d carry gladly for the rest of his life.

Eventually, his eyes grow heavy. He shifts just a little closer, curls his body around yours and Arvin’s like a shield, and lets his forehead rest against your shoulder.

And finally, with his whole family safe in his arms, he exhales… …and sleeps

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 4

In which the real world threatens to ruin your happiness.

Warnings: angsttttttttt :) fluff at the end tho!! Pairing: Lando x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 3.6k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted:

yourusername life lately ❤️ BFFSarah omg, someone who loves pizza just as much as Stelly Belly??? >>>yourusername they polished off a large pizza between the two of them. It was a sight to see. >>>land-ho WE WERE HUNGRY. >>>yourusername you bet my six year old she couldn't eat 4 pieces of pizza, sir. >>>land-ho AND SHE PUT DOWN FIVE! Proudest moment of my LIFE. >>>yourusername 🙄

land-ho (private) posted

land-ho party of three? smoooooth_operator it was good to see you two last night! >>>yourusername dinner was delicious, C!! tell R thank you for all the shopping reccos in Barcelona 🤭 >>>landonorris oh god, my wallet already hurts >>>yourusername well now i'm never going to beat the sugar baby allegations. >>>honeybadger y'all are a walking PR nightmare waiting to happen. kelly_pickme i must meet your two favorite girls soon! bring them to Monaco soon! >>>yourusername 😘 did L give M the lion plushie and princess dress for baby and P? can't wait to meet you all soon!! >>>kelly_pickme yes! P hasn't taken it off and the lion is a hit as well. >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

Miami May, 2025

"Okay, anything else you guys want to talk about before we start filming?" Victor, the team's head of communications, asks on Thursday afternoon.

Victor sits in one of the several conference rooms located in McLaren's hospitality suite surrounded by the rest of the communications team as well as Lando and Oscar. The weekend debrief is wrapping up as he asks one last question.

"Actually, kind of." Lando clears his throat, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

The entire team turns to him then and he feels his face go a bit red. He hadn't really planned on making a big deal of this in front of the team but after his meeting with Zak earlier, he thought he should at least let the comms team in on what he was going to do tonight.

"What's up?" Victor prompts, tucking his iPad under his arm.

"Well, it's more of a 'heads up' kind of thing but Zak thought I should let you guys know that I'm planning on going public with my girlfriend tonight."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lando sees Oscar smirk. He can almost hear the 'well it's about time' teasing he's about to get when they wrap up this meeting.

Victor blinks, casting a sideways glance at Melanie, Lando's main press officer for the weekend. He could tell Victor was reluctant to agree but in all honesty, this wasn't his call and Lando was ready to make that known. "What were you planning on doing?"

Melanie pulls out a notepad to take notes, just in case she's asked about the relationship this weekend.

You were also in Miami this weekend for your second race of the season and the subject had come up last night as you were cuddled up in bed after Lando had posted about you and Stella on his private account for the first time. You had been hesitant at first, not wanting to bring the team or Lando any drama during the race weekend but he had been insistent. While you hadn't been together officially for very long, you spent nearly every spare moment together and Stella had become a huge part of Lando's life too. He was tired of being linked to endless Instagram models and having to hide you away from the public.

Lando shrugs. "Nothing big or anything, just a post of my feed with her, some kind of witty caption."

"She's the one who works in the accounting department?" Melanie asks.

Lando can't help but glare at the woman. She's in her mid-30s with mousey brown hair and wire rimmed glasses. Melanie was kind enough but sometimes Lando wondered if she had any of the media training that was forced on him and Oscar with the kinds of questions she asked him.

"No, she's on the product development team, and she's right over there." Lando tips his chin towards the large glass windows that looks out onto the rest of the hospitality suite where you sit at one of the tables typing away at your laptop.

"Isn't she a single mom?"

Again, Lando glares at Melanie as the rest of the team shifts uncomfortably in their seat. Sure, it was their job to handle any press inquiries that came into the office and sometimes there were personal questions that got asked, but that one was toeing the line of appropriate.

"I don't see why that makes any sort of difference." Oscar surprises everyone by speaking up, his tone a bit colder than usual. "I've worked with her a lot lately, she's a lovely person and wicked smart. Lando's a lucky guy."

"Thanks, mate." Lando murmurs before turning back to Victor. "HR is aware of our relationship and, not that it should matter," Lando looks pointedly at Melanie once again, and is pleased to see her look a bit sheepish as if she's just realized how inappropriate her questions had been. "But Zak is also aware that we're together and has given us his blessing too."

That had been an awkward conversation but Lando admired the McLaren CEO too much to leave him in the dark about something that involved his two employees. He'd scoured the McLaren employee handbook (thankfully there was nothing in it against fraternization of employees, so HR hadn't been a problem either) before approaching Zak first to tell him about the relationship. If there was anyone that Zak Brown loved more than Lando, it was you so of course he had been ecstatic at the news and had immediately given the relationship his full support.

Without waiting for further comment from anyone, Lando gets up and strides out the door, furious at how the ending of the meeting had gone. There were far more problematic WAGs in the paddock and you were a McLaren employee after all, shouldn't you expect the same support from the team as he did? He didn't really understand why it was such a big deal that you were a single mom or technically a coworker.

From your spot in the middle of the hospitality suite you can see when Lando walks out of the conference room, hyper aware of the way his shoulders are hitched up towards his ears, something that only happens when he's upset or stressed.

"Momma!" Your attention is drawn back to your phone where Stella sits on FaceTime before her bath for the evening. You'd been distracted by Lando's sudden shift in mood and had stopped listening to her mid-story.

"Sorry, baby. I'm listening. You and Cora had a good playdate today, yeah?"

Stella prattles on, seemingly satisfied with the half-attention you're now paying her again. But your focus is pulled elsewhere for a moment as you watch a girl you know is on the comms team follow Lando out of the conference room and into his drivers room. You couldn't remember her name but knew that she was working with Lando this weekend as his press officer so it didn't impress you as unusual that she was following him. Maybe something had been said in the meeting and she was going to try to calm him down.

"Momma, can I talk to Lando now?" Stella sighs and you grin. You were beginning to think that your daughter loved Lando a bit more than you the way she constantly asked about him and wanted to see him.

"I think he just walked into a meeting, S but how about we do this. Why don't you go take a bath and by the time you're done, Lando should be finished with his meeting and you can talk to him then."

Stella nods, seemingly happy about the arrangement. You say a quick goodbye before packing up your laptop to go check in on Lando. You were essentially done for the day so you had planned on hanging out with a few of the engineers during their meetings this afternoon before going to dinner with Lando later that night. And then you fully planned on spending the rest of the evening underneath your boyfriend.

You can see the door to Lando's driver's room ajar and you can hear raised voices floating out. Hesitating, you pause with your hand on the door handle. The conversation sounded heated and you didn't want to interrupt. You swear you didn't want to eavesdrop but Lando's shouting didn't leave you much choice.

"What the fuck do you mean the team doesn't want a 'Kelly Piquet 2.0 situation?"

Oh. Oh dear.

You had known Lando was going to tell the team of his plan to hard launch you on his socials tonight and by the sounds of it, it hadn't gone well.

"Lando," The woman, you think her name is Melanie or something, tries to sooth him. "All we're saying is maybe you should think of how this could impact her daughter. When Max and Kelly went public, it was a shit show."

"Yeah, because her father is a racist piece of shit." He spits.

"And she was accused of being a predator!" Melanie fires back. "All I'm saying is that maybe right now isn't the best time to launch a potentially controversial girlfriend."

Your blood goes cold. Controversial? There was nothing in your past that you were ashamed about. No racist relatives. No sex tape scandals or even potentially embarassing photos somewhere out on the internet. You had, all things considered, a pretty wholesome reputation. Everyone at McLaren loved you, as far as you were aware. With the apparent exception of Melanie.

"Controversial? Please, elaborate." Lando's voice goes deadly calm, as if he knows exactly what she's going to say but wants her to say it out loud.

"Lando." Melanie sighs and you take a step back, unsure if you want to hear what she has to say. "She's a young, single mom who got knocked up at nineteen years old." Melanie practically laughs, as if Lando is a complete idiot for not understanding. "There's no way she won't be seen as a gold digger or worse! She's going to be eaten alive on socials. I'm only looking out for her daughter's reputation. Don't be so naive, Norris."

Your fists clench up so tightly, the bite of your nails in your palms pulls you out of a near rage. It takes every ounce of control not to go straight into Lando's room and give that bitch a piece of your mind.

On the other side of the door, Lando swears he sees red and has to take a step away. "This is about your workload, isn't it? You don't want to deal with the awkward questions and the drama? Listen very closely to me, Melanie okay? Because I'm not going to repeat myself." The venom in Lando's voice startles you. "The three of us are a package deal now, do you understand? I am madly in love with that woman out there and her little girl? Her little girl is the center of my world too. I don't give a flying fuck if me being with her means more work for you, that's too fucking bad. If you can't handle it, I'm positive Zak will be happy to replace you. She's here to stay, you are replaceable. Understood?"

Hearing Lando say he loves you and Stella has your world tilting underneath your feet. He'd never said that to you before even though you'd been confident for a while now that he did feel that way. And that you felt the same way.

Melanie's reply is so soft, you don't hear it but moments later, the door flies open so fast you're forced to jump back bit. Melanie's flushed face looks horrified when she sees you standing in the hall. She can't hold eye contact with you for longer than a flicker of a moment before she's dashing down the hall.

Lando stands in the doorway looking horrified that you're standing there. "How much of that did you hear?"

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, your anger at Melanie now replaced with sheer embarrassment. Even if she had been the one to voice it, you were certain Melanie wasn't the only one who was thinking the same thing.

"Everything." You whisper as you look away, brushing at a tear that rolls hotly down your face.

"Goddamnit." Lando swears, shoving a hand through his curls. He hadn't even noticed his door was open after Melanie had followed after him. "Baby..." He reaches for you and you let him pull you to him, his steady warmth a comforting feeling as the panic rises in your chest.

"She's right, you know." You whisper into his chest so softly Lando nearly misses it.

Lando pulls back and the look of desperation on his face nearly breaks your heart. "What are you talking about?"

"The hate we're going to get. I'm going to get. She had a point, you have to admit. I'm a young, single mom dating a millionaire? People are going to think all I'm interested in is your money, just like they did with Kelly."

"Who cares what people think? Who cares what they say about us? The people in our lives that really matter know that's not why you're with me. Isn't that all that matters?"

"Until they start in on Stella. Have you seen some of the things they say about P?"

You were pretty confident you could handle any hate that you got but you knew that the moment you saw any hate towards your little girl, you'd be devastated. It had been something you'd been thinking about since Lando had brought up going public last night but you had been able to brush it aside. It hadn't seemed possible, the worry seeming far away and a little over dramatic but now? Now Melanie's words had anxiety twisting in your stomach.

"That's not going to happen." Lando pulls you deeper into his chest and nuzzles into your neck. He can practically feel you pulling away from him and terror shoots through him.

"You don't know that. Even if it doesn't, do you really want to spend the rest of this relationship constantly defending me? Defending us? That's no way to live, Lando. Melanie was right. I'm controversial and maybe we need to rethink this."

Lando's entire world stops spinning, his breath catching in his throat. "Wh...What? No, baby, no. Please don't do this. Don't pull away. Melanie is being hysterical. Nothing like that is going to happen."

If he had to get on his knees and beg you not to leave him, Lando would do it in a heartbeat.

"I'm not doing anything, I just need a minute to think okay?" You step out of his grasp, instantly missing his touch. You can't even look him in the eye, knowing that if you do you'll crumble. But you can't think of Lando or even yourself right now. "I have to consider what's best for Stella, okay?"

"Don't do this." Lando begs.

"I think I'm going to stay in my own room tonight." You whisper, voice straining with emotion as you barely contain the heartache in your tone.

"Is this the end?" Lando chokes out as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He's sure you'd step away if he tried to touch you right now and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle that kind of rejection from you. It felt like his entire world was crumbling around him and the only thing that could right this was you.

Tears stream down your face as you struggle for an answer. "No." You tell him after a moment and the relief that floods Lando's face nearly breaks your heart. "I just need some space to think is all, I promise."

"Can we still have dinner tonight?"

"I think it'd be best if I just spend the evening alone." It hurts, saying those words because you rarely get this much alone time with Lando but you need space so badly your skin begins to itch. You're desperate to get some distance from the paddock and the team and even Lando himself, to right yourself back to the proper head space. You had to consider Stella above your own heart.

If it was possible to die from a broken heart, Lando knew he was about to find out. He lets you go though, watching miserably from the spot he's rooted to on his floor as you back away slowly, almost like you're retreating from a dangerous animal or something.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

All he can do is nod as he watches you walk out the door for what he hopes isn't the last time.

You're just finishing the last bits of your makeup when there's a knock on your door Friday morning. You were a bit surprised because you knew full well that Lando had a key but the fact that he was nervous to use it after what had happened yesterday tugs at something in your chest.

You had been in the shower when he texted you that morning and the string of texts nearly broke your heart. You hadn't wanted to put him through that kind of pain but you had needed to take a moment to think through what had happened with Melanie and the comms team yesterday.

Slipping the robe Lando had gotten you in Japan a few weeks ago, you pad towards the door to open it. You're stopped completely in your tracks when you swing it open and get a glimpse of Lando in the hallway. He looks absolutely ravaged, like he didn't sleep a single second the night before, eyes red rimmed and puffy.

"Lan..." You whisper, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You reach for him, utterly perplexed suddenly as to why you had felt you needed distance from him.

When he folds you into his arms, the damn finally breaks and you sob into him, the entire previous day's emotions coming to a head. The way you finally feel complete when he's got you in his arms is unlike anything you've ever felt and for a brief moment yesterday, you had forgotten that fact.

When he kisses you, cradling your head in his hands, everything else quiets. The doubts, the fear, the anxiety. It all fades into the background with his lips on yours and you sigh into his mouth. For the first time on 24 hours you feel relieved, like you can actually tackle this issue instead of feeling like you're going to drown in your own thoughts.

Lando tugs you over to the bed, pulling you into his lap as he sits against the headboard. You tuck into his body as close as you can, head folded into that space between his neck and shoulder, drinking in the smell of him: fresh from the shower and slightly spicy from his cologne.

For several minutes, you both just sit there. Lando struggles to contain the relief that is flooding his body. He'd been absolutely miserable last night, eventually working himself into a panic attack at the thought of losing you and Stella. There was such a gaping hole in his soul when he thought about the prospect of you walking away, it scared him to death. He had never planned on falling for you, had resisted it for a bit, trying to convince himself that it was too quick to be feeling the way he did. Last night though? Last night had showed him he was further gone than he had ever expected.

"Did you mean what you said to Melanie yesterday?" You mumble into his neck after a few moments.

"Every word." Lando says without a moment of hesitation. "But is there a specific part you want me to confirm?"

You chuckle, pulling away so you can look him in the face. "The part where you said we're a package deal? That you love love us both?"

Lando brings his hands up to face your frame and you can't help but lean into him. "Of course I meant it. I'd do anything for either of you. I thought we'd established that, baby."

You drop your gaze from his then, somewhat knocked off center by the intensity of his gaze. "I'm sorry I got spooked. I'm just so used to doing this all on my own, no one ever wants to stay."

"Do you remember what I told you the first night we spent together in Bahrain?"

You blink, a small smile playing on your lips for the first time that morning. "You said a lot that night."

Lando rolls his eyes and kisses your temple. "It was after you had fallen asleep and I got up to get a drink of water. When I came back to bed, you curled right into me and said you thought I'd left you. You asked me to never leave you and and I told you I'd never leave you. I didn't mean it for just that night though."

Your heart thunders in your chest. You didn't remember that at all but the fact that he had said those words to you all those months ago. He'd been as far gone for you back then as you had.

"I love you more than words can say." He whispers and all you can do is nod back, emotion choking out your ability to speak for a few moments.

Lando reaches under your chin after a beat, lifting your face so he can see you. "Nobody said this was going to be easy but if we do this together, it'll be okay. You've got to trust me on this, baby. The team is fully supportive, I swear to you. Zak, Andrea, Oscar. Everyone that matters is on our side. I know you're scared and you want to protect Stella but you can't give up on our happiness because of some stupid people on the internet that don't matter."

Pain shoots through you, bright and quick as a lightning bolt as realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Something becomes crystal clear in that moment and you find yourself nodding.

"You're right. I know you are. I want Stella to see me choose myself instead of sacrificing my happiness for some stupid what ifs." It isn't until Lando says what he does that you're able to finally put into words what you've slowly been coming to realize over the last few hours. You'd been scared to admit it, scared that choosing yourself in this meant you were putting Stella second but when Lando tells you that you can't give up your own happiness to protect her, everything clicks into place.

"I want her to know that she can do hard things and choose her own path and if i listen to Melanie all I show her is that the bullies win."

"That's my girl." Lando praises, pulling you into another soul shattering kiss. "I love you." He whispers against your lips.

"Lan..." You pull away suddenly, eyes going wide. "The reason I was outside your driver's room yesterday was because Stella demanded to talk to you before bed and then..." You drop the sentence, the memory of yesterday slicing through you once again. "Do we have time to call her now? She was so mad at me last night when I said you were too busy to talk."

"Don't you ever tell my Stelly Belly I'm too busy to talk to her again." He teases before grabbing his phone. "Is she with Sarah today? They had a half day, didn't they. She was all about going to the cinema with Sarah today last time I talked to her."

The smile that settles on your face is nothing short of brilliant. For the first time in nearly 24 hours, you finally feel settled, like everything had righted itself after being so very briefly run off course. "Lets see if she can talk now before the get to the show."

landonorris posted

789,039 likes liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, BFFSarah, and others landonorris did someone say 'hard launch'? user029 oh she's PRETTY PRETTY yourusername <3 >>>user029 ugh, profile's private but SHE HAS A CHILD??? >>>user2992 if this means we're going to get dad lando content the same yaer we get dad max content, the internet may not survive BFFSarah can i like this more than once!?! <3 user0299 OMG WAIT I saw her in the background of tv shots this weekend except she was in a McLaren team kit. LANDO NOT DATING AN INFLUENCER??? >>>user3422 didn't know he had it in him >>>user000 god, i am such a sucker for a workplace romance trope

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[finelinefae]

friends [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: bambi meets harry's best friends.

word count: 8.8k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), drunk harry, shy reader, boyfriend!h

this is part 3 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Y/N was slowly but surely finding her rhythm at Pleasing. Thanks to Harry’s advice on making the most of each day (advice he apparently wrote a book about—though when Lindsey mentioned it, Harry had quickly shushed her and changed the subject), she had developed a solid morning and evening routine.

Her workdays at Pleasing fell on the busiest days of Harry’s schedule, which meant she was there three times a week. Those mornings began promptly at 7 a.m., with her clothes already laid out from the night before. After waking, she’d prepare breakfast for herself and her brothers, speaking to Harry on the phone as they went about their respective routines in separate homes. Once breakfast was done, she’d brush her teeth, do her makeup, and style her hair. By the time the school bus arrived to whisk her brothers away, her car would be rounding the corner to take her into the city.

Despite her hectic schedule, Y/N was managing to juggle her studies—though she couldn’t ignore that they were beginning to take a backseat. Lately, she’d found herself questioning whether she even wanted to continue her course. But with life moving at such a whirlwind pace, the thought of making a definitive decision felt overwhelming. For now, it was easier to just focus on the day-to-day.

To her surprise, Y/N was actually enjoying her job—something she’d never expected. She’d never been a fan of “adulting”; being forced to grow up quickly didn’t mean she had to like it. Paying bills, going to work, and worrying about the future had always felt like too much. But having a steady job offered her a rare sense of stability—one she appreciated more than she wanted to admit. It kept food on the table, gave her some consistency, and most importantly, brought her closer to Harry.

Keeping their relationship a secret, however, was proving to be a challenge. Surprisingly, Y/N was the more professional of the two, maintaining her composure in the workplace. She kept her hands to herself and avoided lingering glances, even when they were in the same room. Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as disciplined. He had a knack for initiating little interactions that straddled the line of propriety—always claiming they were “accidents.”

Like the time he held her hand just a second too long. Or the time he “accidentally” kissed her in the elevator right as the doors were opening. Then there was the incident during a meeting when, as she served tea, he tugged on the hem of her dress—apparently needing a refill.

Y/N couldn’t help but adore how infatuated he was, but she was determined to keep things professional. The last thing she wanted was for her coworkers to think she had an unfair advantage because of her relationship. Still, Harry’s innocent looks and playfulness made it hard to stay mad at him for long.

“I need to ask you something,” Harry said from his desk. 

It was Wednesday evening and everyone had gone home. Harry had needed to catch up on some work so Y/N stayed behind after some convincing with the proposition he would drop her home afterwards. Y/N was sitting on the chair opposite, her notebook open and laptop screen. Her laptop was on its last legs, taking forever to load and lagging every five seconds but she could never afford a new one and having one was better than nothing. 

“What’s wrong?” She looked up, wearing her glasses and face framed by wispy bits of loose hair that had escaped her messy bun. 

Harry’s face brightened when she looked up at him. “C’mere, Bambi. Too far away.” He pushed himself away from his desk and gestured to his lap. 

Y/N smiled and walked around the desk to sit in his lap. She straddled herself across his lap and wrapped both her arms around his neck, “Y’ smell good,” He murmurs, smelling her gingerbread cookie perfume even though it was Autumn, she was already excited for her favourite day of the year. 

“What did you want to ask?” She pouted. 

As if remembering he bought her over for a purpose, he continued, “This weekend, y’know you’re coming to stay the night?”

How could she forget? It was all she had been thinking about since he asked her. She had even bought brand new pyjamas with the remaining paycheck from her old job because her usual ones were worn and not as pretty. She had never been to a sleepover before let alone one with a man. She was’t sure what to expect but had seen movies where girls would sleepover and they’d paint each others nails and eat ice cream. She knew that wouldn’t be the case with Harry but she had made a list of other things they could do together that he’d enjoy too. 

“I know,” Y/N nodded, brows furrowed as she waited for him to continue. Part of her couldn’t help but worry. Did he not want her to sleep over anymore?

"Some of my friends are having a dinner get together type thing," Harry said, his tone casual but hopeful. "I haven’t said I’ll go yet because I knew you were coming over, but I wanted to ask if you’d like to come with me?"

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. "To the dinner party? With you?"

Harry smiled, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Yeah, with me. Who else?"

She blinked, processing his words. "I’d be meeting your friends?" she asked cautiously. "Are you sure about that?"

"Why wouldn’t I be sure?" he replied, his brow lifting slightly.

"I don’t know, I just..." she trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to explain the nervous flutter in her chest.

"Ah, there y’go, Bambi," Harry smirked, leaning in just enough to make her cheeks burn. "Getting all flustered."

"I’m not flustered!" she protested, though the warmth in her face betrayed her.

Harry chuckled, his gaze warm and steady as it met hers. "It makes me happy, you know—thinking about introducing you to my friends. They were excited when I mentioned you."

"They were?" Y/N asked, her brows lifting in surprise.

"Mhm," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. "They know it’s rare for me to bring someone I’m dating into the mix this early on." He leaned in, nuzzling against her neck and pressing a soft kiss to her skin. "So, will you come? We can head back to mine after."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay... but I don’t know if I have anything to wear."

Harry smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Y’know I can sort that," he teased.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she bit back a shy smile as his confidence and charm worked their usual magic. 

. . .

Y/N glanced down at her suitcase, biting her lip. Did I overpack for one night? Probably. She always did.

Growing up, money had been tight, but once Y/N started earning her own at sixteen, she’d developed a habit of indulging herself. Not extravagantly—there were no designer handbags or flashy purchases—but enough to feel like she was treating herself after the grind of a day. Skincare, makeup, clothes—her modest earnings often vanished in the blink of an eye.

Fashion was her weakness. Her clothing rack groaned under the weight of her ever-expanding wardrobe, frequently collapsing as if protesting her relentless shopping habit. Packing for this overnight stay at Harry’s had been no exception. She’d started with a backpack, then upgraded to a duffle bag, only to realize that wouldn’t fit everything she might need. Now, her suitcase sat by the stairs, practically mocking her indecision.

“Whoa.” Sammy’s voice broke her thoughts as he sauntered into her room, a chocolate bar in hand. “Are you moving in?”

“No,” Y/N huffed, hands on her hips. “I just want to be prepared.”

Sammy raised an eyebrow. “You know, he could just stay here instead.”

Y/N stilled. The boy’s first night without her had everyone feeling uneasy, and she knew Sammy wasn’t looking forward to it. His gaze was guarded, but she could see the vulnerability underneath.

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured, stepping closer. “It’s just one night. If you really hate it, we’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly. “There’s going to be a day when you move out. And leave me. With Mom. Or... without her.”

The words hit harder than he intended. Y/N swallowed the lump forming in her throat, reaching out to him. She saw the sadness etched in his eyes, a reflection of her own fears. “Wherever I go, you go,” she whispered firmly.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Sammy leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. Y/N held him close, closing her eyes for a moment before pulling away.

The sound of a knock at the front door jolted her. She glanced at the clock, muttering a quick, “That’s Harry,” as she rushed downstairs. She wanted to intercept him before Archie could get started—her little brother’s chatter had a way of turning quick visits into extended stays.

Yanking the door open, she froze. Harry stood there, a beaming smile lighting up his face despite the chill in the air. He wore a puffer jacket and shorts, his casual confidence making her heart skip.

“Hi, Harry,” she greeted, cheeks tinged pink, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or his presence. Without thinking, she leapt into his arms, her sock-clad feet barely touching the doorstep.

“Hi, Bambi,” he chuckled, steadying her as his arms closed around her. “Y’ready to go?”

“Mhm.” She pulled back, slipping on her shoes. “Let me say goodbye to the boys.”

Harry’s gaze shifted behind her, landing on the suitcase by the stairs. A laugh bubbled from him. “Are you planning on moving in?”

Y/N furrowed her brows, following his line of sight. When realization dawned, she flushed. “Oh, that. I, uh... didn���t know what I’d need.”

His grin softened as he stepped closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “S’alright, Bambi,” he murmured. “M’just excited to have you over.”

She smiled, her heart swelling as he leaned in for another kiss. Then, without missing a beat, he grabbed her suitcase and carried it effortlessly to the car.

After she had bid goodbye to her brother’s and promised them some much needed one on one time with them once she came back from Harry’s house, Y/N took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for the next twenty four hours. 

. . .

In the car to Harry’s apartment, Y/N sat in the passenger seat with one hand intertwined with Harry’s whilst he drove with his other. The radio played through the car speakers, avoiding complete silence on the journey. The dulcit tones of Marvin Gaye playing throughout. 

“Y’ hands are freezing,” Harry said. Y/N instinctively tried to pull away as though her hand being cold was a bad thing but Harry clung tighter, raising both their hands and kissing her knuckles before blowing his warm breath over her hand. “Do you need me to up the heater?”

Y/N shook her head, “No it’s okay, my hands get cold when I’m nervous.” She confessed. 

Harry frowned, “Nervous? Are you okay?”

Y/N cringed, “M a little worried about meeting your friends. What if they don’t like me?” 

Harry gave her a comforting smile, “Bambi, they’re so excited to meet you. You have nothing to worry about. They’ve met other girls I’ve dated and trust me when I say you’re a walking angel in comparison to them.” 

“H-Have you dated a lot of other girls?” Y/N felt awkward bringing it up but her curiosity was getting the better of her. Harry had only mentioned briefly of the other women he had dated. Of course he had dated other women, he was a successful, handsome millionaire with a fashion company. It would be pointless trying to deny it. 

Harry thought for a moment like he was trying to think carefully about his response, “I’ll be honest, I used to date a lot of women when I first started making money. I wasn’t very good when I started getting attention from the press. I drank a lot and spent money on buying out nightclubs and bars for the night.” 

Y/N was shocked. She tried to picture her Harry being the version of himself he spoke about. “But my company was no where near as successful as it is now so even though I was spending a lot, I was losing a lot too. I nearly went bankrupt at one point which really gave me a kick up the ass. My sister, she’s an accountant back home in England, she came to visit and helped me get my act together.” 

“Oh wow,” Y/N didn’t really know what else to say. She couldn’t seem to envision her sweet, soft and wholesome Harry being a party animal and spening nights in bars for days on end. 

“Did that put you off?” Y/N immediately shook her head. 

“Of course not, we’ve all got things we’re not proud of.” Y/N replied. 

Harry smiled, “What about you? Any psycho ex-boyfriends I need to worry about?”

Y/N laughed, “No lucky for you, I don’t think a single guy has ever taken interest in me.” 

“I highly doubt that Bambi but you’re right, I am very lucky.” Harry flashed a cheeky grin, turning the wheel around the corner and stopped outside the tallest building she had ever seen that looked as though it was completely made of glass. 

Y/N’s was unable to say anything when her eyes gazed up at the towering stack of apartments. “You live in this building?” Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off, her neck permanently craned to look up. She was pretty sure the hjgihest point of the building resided in the clouds. 

Harry said nothing, parking his car in the private parking spot. He went to the back to grab her suitcase, Y/N stepping out of the car and walking around to meet him. 

“C’mon Bambi,” Harry chuckled at her awe-struck expression. 

They walked hand in hand through the lobby which looked as glamorous as you’d expect. Harry gave a nod to the security at the door as they went past and headed towards the elevator. Y/N’s eyes widened when his finger pressed the button for the top floor. 

The doors to the elevator opened and Y/N thought she might actually pass out. 

She stepped into Harry’s penthouse, her breath catching as her gaze swept over the space. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, all the people and cars down below looked like ants. The open layout was both elegant and inviting, with warm ambient lighting casting a golden glow over the neutral-toned furniture and rich wooden floors.

“Wow,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step further inside. The plush cream sofa, the sleek coffee table stacked with books, and the faint scent of vanilla in the air all felt so Harry—effortlessly stylish and welcoming.

Harry chuckled behind her, setting her suitcase by the door. “You like it?”

“Like it?” she breathed, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Harry, this is... incredible.”

He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “M’glad you think so. Wanted it to feel comfy, y’know? Somewhere I could actually relax.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes drifting back to the view. “Sometimes I forget how rich you are.”

Harry chuckles from behind her, “I’m actually very glad to hear that.”

She walked over to the windows, pressing her hands gently against the glass as she looked out at the city sprawling beneath them. For a moment, it felt like they were floating above it all, separate from the noise and chaos of the world below.

Harry joined her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “S’better with you here,” he murmured, his voice soft.

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest as she leant into him. Harry kissed her shoulder, turning her round to face him. He smiled when her eyes met his, “We have some time before we need to get ready, do you want to go unpack?”

“Oh of course, am I sleeping on the couch?” Harry furrowed his brows before bursting out laughing, water almost fell from his eyes. Y/N frowned, confused at his reaction. 

“You don’t want to sleep in my room Bambi? With me?” Y/N’s cheek scorched red but Harry just continued to laugh, “I mean I’m happy to sleep on the couch and let you sleep in my room if that’s what would make you comfortable.”

“No, it’s okay! I was just messing around,” She was all flustered. The idea of sleeping in Harry’s bed with him hadn’t crossed her mind like it maybe should have. 

“Are you sure? Y’ know I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.” Y/N’s shoulders sunk at his sincere concern, she stood on her toes and kissed his lips. This time it was his turn to be surprised since it was rare for her to be the first to initiate a kiss between them. 

“I know,” She smiled, “I want to sleep in your room… with you.” 

Harry smiled, “Good. Let me give you a tour first.” 

Harry led Y/N back toward the kitchen, still holding her hand as they strolled through the open-concept living area. “First stop: the kitchen,” he said, motioning grandly as they stepped into the sleek, modern space.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she took in the marble countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, and a large island that looked like it had been plucked from a home design magazine. A trio of pendant lights hung above, casting a warm glow over the pristine surfaces.

“Wow,” she breathed, running her fingers along the smooth countertop. “This is amazing. Do you even use it?”

Harry grinned, leaning casually against the island. “I use it for takeout. Does that count?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t know how anyone could resist cooking in here.”

“I can resist pretty easily, love,” he said with a smirk. “But if you ever fancy cooking together, I’m happy to assist. I’m great at stirring things and, uh… taste-testing.”

“Of course you are, no wonder you own a restaurant.” Y/N teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Harry chuckled, then nodded toward a door off to the side. “Alright, next stop: my office.”

He guided her through the door and into a smaller, cosier room that contrasted with the open, airy feel of the rest of the penthouse. The office was lined with dark wood shelves filled with books, a few framed photos, and scattered trinkets. A large desk sat in front of another set of floor-to-ceiling windows, the view just as stunning as the one in the living room.

“This is where I get most of my work done,” he said, walking over to the desk and leaning on it. “Or where I try to, anyway. Sometimes I just sit here and stare out at the city.”

Y/N wandered over to the shelves, her fingers lightly brushing the spines of the books. “It’s so… you,” she said softly, glancing at the little details—a framed photo of him with his family, a guitar pick sitting on a stack of papers, and a candle that smelled faintly of cedar.

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean messy?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I mean it’s thoughtful. Personal.”

Harry’s smile softened, and he reached out to take her hand again. “Alright, enough of the boring office. Time to show you the best room in the house.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he led her back down the hallway to his bedroom. When he pushed open the door, her breath hitched.

The bedroom was even more stunning than she’d imagined. The centerpiece was a massive bed with crisp white linens that looked impossibly soft, surrounded by sleek, minimal furniture. The far wall was made entirely of glass, offering an unobstructed view of the glittering city below. Heavy curtains were drawn to the sides, framing the view like a painting.

Harry watched her take it all in, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So? What do you think?”

“It’s… incredible,” Y/N whispered, stepping into the room. She walked over to the windows, pressing her hands against the glass as she gazed out at the city. “I don’t think I’d ever sleep. I’d just stay up staring at this view.”

“Well, lucky for you,” Harry said, coming up behind her and resting his hands gently on her shoulders, “the bed is comfortable enough to make you forget about the view.”

She turned to look at him, her cheeks warming. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Harry grinned, his dimples on full display. “Challenge accepted, Bambi.”

He took her hand and led her to the bed, sitting down beside her. The mattress really did feel like a cloud as she sank into it.

“I was serious earlier,” Harry said, his tone softer now. “You can sleep wherever you want—the bed, the couch, the office chair if you’re feeling adventurous. I just want you to be comfortable.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling at his thoughtfulness. “I already told you, Harry. I want to sleep here. With you.”

His eyes lit up at her words, and he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that too.”

Harry stood up, “I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ve just go to make a few calls but there’s an ensuite bathroom you can use to freshen up.”

After Harry brought her suitcase to the bedroom, he left her to unpack. Y/N unzipped it and pulled out her washbag, heading into the ensuite bathroom.

The bathroom was stunning—a walk-in shower with dark tiles and jets built into the walls. She stepped to the sink, admiring the clean lines of the vanity, and placed her washbag carefully on the counter. She couldn’t help but smile when she noticed all of Harry’s skincare neatly organized in a cute little spinning container—it was such a contrast to her own chaotic setup. But then her eyes landed on the glass by the sink, where his toothbrush rested.

Beside it was a pink toothbrush.

Her heart softened at the sight, a warm flutter spreading through her chest. There was something about that simple detail that made her feel all warm and gooey inside. She’d never believed she would find someone she’d want to spend so much time with but here she was staying the night with Harry and about to meet his friends. 

Y/N walked into the living room, where Harry was already sitting on the couch with his laptop perched on her lap. He smiled when he saw her, and then his gaze fell to the object she was holding. “Is that Monopoly?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N nodded, her grin widening. “Yeah, it’s the original version. I asked my brothers if I could bring it with me since we've had this set forever, and they would absolutely murder me if I lost any pieces. We have to be able to play it at Christmas."

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked in amusement. “Hmm, may I ask why you decided to bring Monopoly with you today?”

Y/N paused, clearly puzzled. “Isn’t that what people do at sleepovers? Play games?”

Harry’s grin spread wider. As she stepped closer, he reached out, pulling her toward him. She ended up collapsing onto his chest with a soft laugh.

“Oh, Bambi,” he murmured, showering her face with quick kisses. His lips tickled her skin, making her giggle uncontrollably. “You’re the most precious girl I’ve ever known, you know that?”

She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Does that mean you want to play?”

Harry gave a dramatic sigh, still grinning. “Of course! Are you kidding me? I love this game.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice playful. “Well, be prepared. I’m not one to brag, but I’m pretty good at it.”

His eyes lit up with challenge. “Oh, Bambi’s competitive, I see.”

A spark flickered in her eyes as she leaned in slightly, “Just a little.”

. . .

Harry loved discovering the many layers of his Bambi. To the outside world, she was shy and quiet, but to him, she was a multi-faceted woman, full of surprises he was peeling back one by one. Yet this afternoon might have revealed his favorite side of her yet.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement and mischief as she declared her victory in Monopoly—long before the game had officially ended. Harry had debated whether to let her win, as any gentleman might, but it turned out he didn’t need to. She was fiercely competitive and had wiped the floor with him in just thirty minutes.

If time had allowed, Harry would’ve played another round or concocted a new game just to watch her face light up with that same playful energy. The afternoon spent with her, laughing over a simple board game, had him envisioning Christmas mornings and holiday traditions for years to come. It was silly, perhaps, to think so far ahead so early in their relationship, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t picture a future without Bambi in it.

Still, as the game wrapped up, he could see her nerves creep back in. The mention of preparing to meet his friends made her retreat into herself, her earlier exuberance melting into quiet apprehension. Despite his reassurances, Harry knew she’d wrestle with her anxiety until the dinner was behind them.

His friends, on the other hand, were eager to meet her. Their group chat had been buzzing with excitement about “the girl who finally tied him down.” Since Harry’s family was back in England, his friends were the closest thing he had to family in LA, making their opinions matter. But he had no doubt they’d love her.

In the living room, Harry waited for Y/N to finish getting ready, dressed in his tailored dark suit with a relaxed fit. The loose white tank underneath, with its wide scoop neckline, subtly revealed his tattoos, and the Pleasing logo stitched at the hem added a personal touch. Cream-colored loafers and white socks completed the look, his short curls neatly styled to keep them from obscuring his face.

The click of the bedroom door snapped him from his thoughts. He rose from the sofa, as alert as a puppy hearing its owner return. When Y/N stepped out, the oxygen seemed to leave the room entirely.

Her dress was light pink, soft and flowing, with thin spaghetti straps and a V-shaped neckline that showcased her décolletage. The slightly sheer fabric hinted at her elegant curves, while the asymmetrical hemline added a whimsical touch. Her hair was slicked back into a high ponytail, and her makeup was pink-toned and dewy, enhancing her natural glow. She paired the dress with strappy silver heels and a small, dainty bag dangling from her shoulder.

Her hand clung to her opposite arm, feeling vulnerable as she stood before him. Harry felt his breath hitch, his lips parting as he tried to absorb how breathtaking she looked.

“Bambi…” he managed, his voice low and reverent.

Her cheeks flushed. “Is it too much?” she asked softly.

Harry stepped closer, taking her hands in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You look beautiful. I don’t even have the words to tell you how incredible you are.”

She ducked her head, shy like the deer he affectionately nicknamed her after. “Thank you. You look very handsome, too,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on her like she was the only thing in the world.

“Do you like my dress?” she asked, her voice tentative.

Harry’s hands slid to her waist, feeling the soft fabric and the gentle curve of her silhouette. “I love it.”

“I made it,” she admitted, her blush deepening.

His brows lifted in surprise. “You did?”

She nodded, and Harry was awestruck. He’d seen her sketches before—ones she had reluctantly shared after he begged—but seeing her creations come to life was something else entirely.

Harry glanced at his watch, sighing reluctantly. “We should probably get going, but first…” He pulled out his phone, aiming it at the two of them. Y/N laughed, trying to push the camera away, but eventually relented, leaning in to kiss his cheek just as he snapped the photo. His grin widened, his eyes crinkling with joy.

Taking her hand, he asked, “Do you need a jacket?” His gaze flicked to her bare arms.

“I’ll be okay, as long as the bar has heating,” she replied with a small laugh.

Harry chuckled but grabbed a jacket on their way out anyway. He knew her well enough to anticipate the moment she’d get cold but wouldn’t say a word about it.

The drive to the bar felt like it took forever, thanks to the heavy city traffic. Harry’s hand remained warm on her thigh, and she wrapped her arm around his, seeking comfort from his touch. She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to stop.

“A little,” she confessed, glancing over at him. “I just want them to like me. I’ve never had to introduce myself to anyone’s friends before... I don’t want to mess up.”

“You’ll be fine, Bambi,” Harry reassured her, his voice calm as always. He’d said it so many times already, and she knew he’d say it dozens more if she needed to hear it. “Just be yourself. That’s all you need to be.”

Y/N wouldn’t say it out loud, but the age difference between her and Harry’s friends had been weighing on her mind all evening. The nine-year gap between her and Harry had never been an issue for them—it felt inconsequential when they were together. But his friends might see it differently.

What if they thought she was too young, too inexperienced, too… immature for someone like him? Worse, what if they assumed she was with him for his success, for the money he worked so hard to earn? The mere thought made her stomach twist. She didn’t want to be judged on circumstances she couldn’t change or assumptions she couldn’t dispel.

Harry’s friends meant a lot to him, and their approval—or lack of it—would sting far more than she cared to admit.

She nodded anyway, letting out a slow breath and turning her gaze to the window. The city lights blurred outside, their glow reflecting in her eyes. Even though his words helped calm her, she still couldn’t shake the nerves.

When they pulled up to the bar, the fancy building loomed in front of them. A valet was already waiting, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how Harry always seemed to have the luxury treatment everywhere they went. It was a reminder of how different her world was from his, but she tried not to dwell on it.

As Harry stepped out of the car, Y/N noticed the photographers waiting outside. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still made her stomach tighten. Harry wasn’t a mega-celebrity, but he was well-known enough in the business world that the occasional paparazzi was inevitable.

Harry opened the door for her, his hand gently resting on her hip as he helped her out. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head, and it felt like both a reassurance for her and a subtle message to the photographers.

The bar was dimly lit and sophisticated with shiny tables and chairs with red upholstery. Live jazz music played as people chatted over glasses of wine that probably cost more than Y/N’s monthly wages had to offer. “Do you own this bar?” Y/N asked, clinging a little bit tighter to Harry’s hand. 

Harry chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Not this one,” he said, guiding Y/N toward a booth at the back of the bar. As they approached, the laughter of a group already seated at the table reached her ears. The sound was warm, familiar, like a group of people who had known each other for years.

A man with long brunette hair had his arm around a woman with similar dark hair that cascaded in waves down her shoulders. The two of them were laughing, their faces lit up in shared joy, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as they neared the group.

Before she could even take a deep breath, one of the men spotted them walking over. He had a rugged beard, and he stood up with a grin, his drink in hand.

“Harry!” he called out, extending his hand.

Harry gave him a knowing grin and shook his hand firmly, his other arm still wrapped around Y/N. “Mate,” he greeted warmly, pulling him into a quick hug.

Y/N watched the exchange, trying to hide the anxious flutter in her stomach. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she knew this was an important moment for her. She hadn’t met many of Harry’s close friends yet, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be a defining moment—how they reacted to her, how she’d fit in with this group that meant so much to him.

The man with the beard turned to Y/N, his eyes flickering with curiosity, and then he offered her a smile. “You must be Y/N,” he said, his tone warm and welcoming. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

Y/N smiled, a little relieved at the friendly tone in his voice. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too,” she replied, her nerves still there but starting to ease. “I’ve heard so much about you guys.”

Harry stood beside her, his hand still resting at the small of her back, offering her silent support as she navigated this new territory. 

The man with the beard grinned as he stepped back, giving Y/N a moment to breathe. "This is Mitch," Harry said, gesturing to the man with long brunette hair who was seated next to a woman with equally dark hair. Mitch gave her a warm, easy smile, his arm casually wrapped around Sarah’s shoulders.

"It’s great to meet you, Y/N," Mitch said, his voice easy and friendly. "Harry’s told us all about you."

Y/N’s nerves eased a little more as Mitch’s friendly demeanor helped her feel at home. "I hope it’s all good things," she said, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

"Oh, definitely," Mitch replied, nudging Harry with his elbow and giving him a teasing grin. 

Sarah, Mitch’s girlfriend, stood up from the booth with a bright smile, her waves of dark hair catching the light. She reached out to shake Y/N’s hand, her voice warm and welcoming. “Hi! I’m Sarah. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, but Sarah’s friendly tone immediately put her at ease. “Nice to meet you too,” she replied with a smile, trying to match Sarah’s warmth. "Harry's mentioned you guys a lot."

“Good things, I hope,” Sarah teased, winking as she sat back down beside Mitch.

Before Y/N could respond, a deep voice from the other side of the booth spoke up. “You must be Y/N,” a man with a thick beard said, “I’m Jamie.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Y/N smiled.

Jamie gave her a smile that seemed to take up half his face, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Harry’s been keeping us in the loop." He offered her a firm handshake, his grip warm. “It’s about time we met the girl who finally has him whipped.”

Finally, a woman sitting across from Jamie stood up, her presence immediately commanding attention. Alessia was striking—her short hair framed her face with confidence, and her posture was strong. She offered Y/N a small, warm smile. "I’m Alessia," she said, extending a hand. "It’s so good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Harry."

"Nice to meet you too," Y/N said, shaking her hand with a smile. There was something calming about Alessia’s assuredness that made Y/N feel at ease, even though she was a little more reserved than the others.

As Alessia returned to her seat, Harry’s hand still rested on Y/N’s back, a silent comfort in the midst of the introductions, as they sat in the booth next to Sarah and Mitch. His friends were exactly as he’d described—kind, welcoming, and playful. They were a perfect match for Harry and that bought a sense of relief to her. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Harry murmured to Y/N, his hand gently brushing against hers as he leaned in.

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She had never really drunk alcohol before—not because she didn’t want to, but simply because she never really went out drinking. Whenever she was out with her brothers, she always stuck to something safe like Coke or Sprite. She felt a little embarrassed to admit that she wasn’t sure what to order.

“Um…” She fumbled for words, feeling self-conscious. "I...I don't really know what to drink."

Harry’s smile softened, as if he understood right away. “Would you like me to pick something for you?”

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. He wasn’t making her feel stupid. "Yes, please," she said gratefully, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

With a nod, Harry turned and motioned for the guys to follow him toward the bar. As they walked off, Y/N felt her nerves kick in again. She was left standing with Sarah and Alessia, the two women who already seemed so at ease with each other and the group.

Y/N suddenly felt a little out of her element. She wasn’t used to hanging out with other women in this kind of setting. With her brothers, everything was easy and casual, but this... this felt different. She was afraid that her awkwardness would be obvious, so she searched for something to say, anything to break the silence.

It didn’t take long for Sarah to sense her discomfort. She leaned forward with a welcoming smile. “Where’s your dress from? It’s gorgeous,” she asked, her voice light and friendly.

Y/N's face softened at the compliment, and she felt more at ease. “Oh, um, I actually made it,” she said, a little shy but proud. "I love fashion, so I’ve been sketching designs for a while."

Sarah’s eyes widened, impressed. “Wait, you made it? That’s amazing!” She looked at Y/N with genuine admiration. “It looks beautiful on you. I honestly thought it was something you bought from a high-end store.”

Y/N laughed softly, feeling a bit shy but happy with the compliment. “Thanks, that means a lot. I’ve kept a lot of my sketches in an old notebook, but I’ve always wanted to show them to someone.”

“I would love to see them sometime,” Sarah said enthusiastically. “I’m obsessed with fashion too. Maybe we can swap ideas sometime.”

Alessia, who had been listening with a smile, chimed in. “You’re really talented. I’m sure Harry’s lucky to have someone so creative around especially with his company.” 

“Do you guys work in fashion too?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious about the two women she’d just met.

“Just Harry, I’m afraid,” Sarah replied with a playful smile. “We all went to art school, though. Mitch and I own an art gallery together, and Jamie runs a theatre company.”

“And I design album art for artists,” Alessia added, her voice warm and casual.

Y/N’s eyes widened in genuine awe. “Wow. That’s so impressive. Is that how you all met? Through art school?”

“Yep, we were kind of the outcasts of our year group,” Sarah said with a chuckle, “so we stuck together. And look where we are now.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the closeness between the group. “That’s so cool. And... were you and Mitch together back then?”

“Oh no,” Alessia laughed, shaking her head. “Sarah and Mitch didn’t get together until after art school. It was excruciating to witness—those two pining over each other for four years and never doing anything about it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at Alessia’s blunt description. “That sounds like a movie.”

“It kind of was,” Sarah said, laughing with her. “But it worked out in the end.”

“I bet Harry told you about us,” Alessia continued, leaning in a bit. “He told us he was bringing you tonight, and we were all nervous, actually.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, surprised. “Really? I was nervous too.”

“Are you kidding? After Harry’s last ‘girlfriend,’” Sarah said with a playful eye-roll, “we thought we’d be meeting some bitchy gold-digger who’d be all over him, trying to separate him from us. But then we met you, and it was like, thank God—you’re nothing like that. Honestly, we’re so relieved.”

“Harry talks about you non-stop,” Alessia added with a teasing grin. “For the last month and a half, it’s been ‘Y/N this, Y/N that,’ in our group chat. It’s kind of sweet, honestly.”

“Really?” Y/N blinked, her face softening with surprise.

Sarah smiled warmly. “Yeah, don’t worry, it’s nice to hear. He deserves someone who treats him right, you know? Especially after everything he’s done for all of us.”

Alessia nodded, her expression turning a little more serious. “He got me out of some serious debt. I was on the brink of losing everything, close to being homeless... but Harry stepped in. He rented me a place, helped me get back on my feet, and even called in a favor that landed me my first real job. He’s the most caring person I know.”

Y/N’s heart warmed at Alessia’s words. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard someone speak so highly of Harry, but it never failed to move her. Hearing it from his friends, people who had seen him at his best and worst, made her realise just how deeply Harry cared about the people in his life—and just how lucky she was to be part of it. 

Soon Harry returned with the boys, sliding into the seat next to her. He placed a drink in front of her, “I got you an Aperol Spritz but if you don’t like it I can get you something else.” He told her. 

“Thank you,” She beamed up at him and took a sip of her drink. It was light and bubbly with a slight bitter yet citrusy taste. The more she drank, the more she enjoyed the taste of it.  

Harry continued conversing with his friends, and Y/N found herself enjoying the easy banter between them. It was nice to see this side of him—relaxed, almost boyish, and playful. The way his friends teased each other with such familiarity made her smile, and it felt like she was catching a glimpse of Harry’s world before she’d come into it.

She liked his friends. All of them were warm and welcoming, each with their own distinct personalities, but there was a genuine closeness that she could see. They kept her in the loop, filling in the gaps on things she might not have fully understood—like an inside joke or a shared memory—until she felt like she was beginning to grasp the dynamics between them.

Sarah and Alessia were especially attentive, constantly asking her questions and trying to learn everything about her. Y/N appreciated their curiosity and kindness. They didn’t make her feel like an outsider, instead showing genuine interest in her life and her background. 

Every so often, Y/N would catch Harry looking down at her. He’d check in on her, his gaze soft, making sure she was okay and not feeling overwhelmed. His protective instincts were clear, and she was grateful for it. He didn’t hover, but whenever he could, he’d quietly reassure her with a small smile or a squeeze of her hand under the table.

Despite the lively atmosphere, Y/N felt like she wasn’t just another guest at the table—she was part of the conversation, part of the group. And it was easy to relax into that sense of belonging as the night wore on. Even though she was still a little out of her comfort zone, she couldn’t help but feel more at ease with every passing minute, especially with Harry so nearby.

She laughed at something Sarah had said, a light, genuine sound that felt more natural than she expected. The whole night had been surprisingly fun, and for once, she was enjoying being part of something so lively, instead of shrinking back.  

“So Y/N, what’s Harry like as a boyfriend?” Jamie asked, causing Y/N to freeze in her seat.

Harry’s hand stilled from where it had been drawing invisible circles on her knee. The table seemed to pause, sensing the awkwardness in the air.

“That bad?” Jamie chuckled, trying to lighten the moment.

Y/N’s mind scrambled for the right words. She wasn’t sure how to describe their relationship—things were still new, and they had never really put a label on it beyond "dating." Her mouth felt dry as she fumbled for a response.

“U-um, we’re not— I don’t think—” Y/N stumbled, her face flushing. She didn’t know how to put it into words, not wanting to make things awkward or overthink it.

Before she could continue, Sarah quickly chimed in with a grin, “A better boyfriend than you.”

The entire table burst out laughing, and the tension in the air seemed to lift immediately. Jamie threw his hands up in mock defeat, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Alright, alright. I’ll take the loss. But I’m definitely curious now,” he said, leaning forward. “What makes Harry such a great boyfriend, then?”

Y/N glanced at Harry, meeting his eyes, which were filled with amusement but also a warmth that made her heart skip. "Yeah, Bambi, what am I like as a boyfriend?"

Her lips parted at the question. It was the first time he had referred to their relationship so openly, and the realisation hit her in a way that made her smile nervously.

“Well,” Y/N began, her voice softening as she relaxed, “he’s incredibly thoughtful. He’s always checking in on me, making sure I’m alright, and—he actually listens. He’s not the kind of guy who brushes off what I say or rushes through things. He’s really present.”

Harry’s hand slid over to hers under the table, his fingers intertwining with hers in a quiet show of support. He squeezed her hand gently, his gaze tender, saying everything without needing words.

“And he’s fun,” Y/N added with a light laugh, her nervousness easing. “He doesn’t take himself too seriously, which is honestly one of my favorite things about him.”

Harry’s smile deepened at her words, and there was something in the way he looked at her—like he was asking her a question without saying it aloud. “I love it… Being his girlfriend.” Y/N blushed but Harry’s face widened into a grin, one of his dimples appearing on his cheek. 

The group exchanged knowing glances, clearly enjoying the moment. Alessia raised her glass, her eyes twinkling.

“To Y/N, we wish you all the luck in the world for having to put up with us.” she said, toasting her with a wink.

Everyone joined in, lifting their glasses, and Y/N felt her heart swell at the way Harry’s friends rallied around them. 

. . .

Y/N hadn’t noticed how much Harry had had to drink until his head rested on her shoulder, in the middle of her conversing some more with Sarah and Alessia,  “Think I want to go home Bambi,” He murmured. Y/N pushed his droopy curls back and saw the hazy look in his eye, a lazy smile on his lip, “So pretty,” His lips puckered as he spoke. 

Y/N giggled, “How are we meant to get home silly, you drove us here.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry huffed, “I did didn’t I?”

Sarah chuckled, “We can drop you guys home on the way back to our place. We’ll just tell the valet to keep hold of his car. He can pick it up tomorrow as punishment.” 

Y/N laughed softly, nodding her thanks to Sarah. "That sounds like a good plan," she said, looking down at Harry, whose cheek was now squished adorably against her shoulder. He was humming a tune she couldn’t quite place, the sound low and soothing despite his obvious tipsiness.

Harry’s hand found hers under the table, his fingers clumsily lacing through hers. “Y’ make me the happiest Bambi. ‘M so happy y’ m’ girlfriend.” he mumbled, his words slightly slurred but unmistakably earnest.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, her heart skipping a beat. “That’s a lot of happy,”

“It is isn’t it?” Harry laughs. 

Sarah stood up, grabbing her bag. “Alright, let’s get you two lovebirds home.”

Y/N helped him to his feet. He wobbled slightly, leaning heavily against her. “You’re my favorite person ever, you know that?” he said as they made their way to the exit, his voice loud enough to draw a few amused glances from nearby tables.

“I think I’m starting to get the idea,” Y/N replied, her tone affectionate as she wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.

“I’m hungry,” he announced loudly. “Can we get chips? Or pizza?”

“Let’s get you home first, superstar,” Mitch said, clapping him on the back and making Harry stumble slightly into Y/N.

“You’re my hero,” Harry murmured dramatically as they shuffled toward the car, his arm draped over her shoulder. “You saved me, Bambi. You’re the best.”

“You’re going to think otherwise when you see how many embarrassing photos Sarah and Alessia probably took tonight,” Y/N quipped, her laughter blending with the others’ as they piled into the car.

“Embarrassing?” Harry blinked at her, his expression mock-serious. “Never. I look good in all lighting.”

Y/N shook her head, letting out a laugh as Harry’s head found her shoulder once more. “We’ll see about that in the morning,” she said, her voice fond.

Harry let out a contented sigh. “You smell so nice,” he murmured sleepily.

Y/N giggled, smoothing her hand over his curls. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the car pulled away from the bar, Harry mumbled something about her being “too good for him” before trailing off into a soft snore. Y/N looked down at him, her heart swelling. Even in his drunken, clumsy state, he had a way of making her feel like the most important person in the world.

Once Sarah and Mitch dropped them off right at Harry’s front door, Y/N was left with the daunting task of lugging Harry to his room. He wasn’t exactly helping, his body swaying dramatically as she tried to steady him.

“Harry, you’re not making this easy,” she huffed, half-laughing as he stumbled. By some miracle, she managed to guide him to the bed, where he flopped down—half on the mattress, half on the floor.

“Mission accomplished,” she muttered under her breath, crouching down to untie his laces. But just as she reached for his shoe, he playfully kicked his foot away, his lips curling into a cheeky grin.

“C’mere, Bambi,” he murmured, his voice low and a little slurred.

Y/N stood, brushing off her knees, only to find herself being tugged down onto the bed when he grabbed her wrist. She landed on top of him with a surprised gasp, her hands braced against his chest.

“Harry!” she exclaimed softly, but he didn’t say anything, just looked up at her with those green eyes, hazy but full of something she couldn’t quite describe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world around them seemed to blur as they gazed at each other, an unspoken connection passing between them. Harry reached up, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The faint smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, but his touch was steady, his expression achingly tender.

“Mean it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You make me the happiest.”

Y/N’s heart twisted at the sincerity in his words, her breath catching in her throat. Her lips curved into a soft smile as she cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. “You make me the happiest too, Harry.”

Taglist~

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[sutorus]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea. 

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol 

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class. 

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests. 

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago. 

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew. 

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way. 

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study. 

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats. 

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention. 

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met. 

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do. 

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn. 

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. 

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you. 

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager. 

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around. 

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat. 

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him. 

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything. 

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features. 

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with. 

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too. 

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you. 

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever. 

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation. 

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath. 

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew. 

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused. 

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later. 

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol. 

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression. 

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes. 

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to. 

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight. 

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff. 

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants. 

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it. 

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life. 

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible. 

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip. 

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva. 

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him. 

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy. 

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat. 

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.” 

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs. 

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him. 

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.” 

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again. 

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth. 

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs. 

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants. 

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory. 

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him. 

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years. 

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of. 

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together. 

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours. 

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth. 

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you. 

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him. 

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself. 

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck. 

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him. 

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad. 

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer. 

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit. 

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him. 

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust. 

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer. 

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip. 

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?” 

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you. 

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill. 

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now. 

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you. 

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.” 

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house. 

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice. 

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it. 

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words. 

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin. 

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast. 

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck. 

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you. 

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass. 

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa. 

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you. 

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it. 

toji finally addresses you. 

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks. 

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

[queen-of-signs]

❤️Your Future Spouse According to Astrology: A Cosmic Sneak Peek ❤️

Note: These are my personal observations and pattern receipts I’ve collected over the years using Vedic astrology. And no one planet isn’t gonna reveal your soulmate and where you would be meeting them. You gotta look at the whole chart to get the full tea.

Lemme know in the comments whether if it resonates with you or not!

Rahu - North Node | Ketu - South Node

🌌Rahu in 7th - Indicates unconventional or foreign spouses, age gaps, or non-traditional relationships like same -sex relationships, also multiple marriages or marrying with children. Could meet their partner out of the blue and gets married quickly. Unresolved karma. obsession or toxicity in relationships, in some cases.

🪶 Saturn in 7th - Older or mature partner, marriage after 28. In some cases, denied marriage. Dating is minimal or non-existent.

🪶 Saturn Rx in 7th - Older partners, but not strict. Significant age gap like 7+ or 10+ years. They have unconventional traits and are smart workers. Marriage tends to happen after 28.

🌞Sun in 7th - If married young (before 30), it might lead to divorce. If not, marriage could occur in the late 30s or even early to mid-40s. The spouse is child-like, funny and could be slightly tanned. They may have a higher status than you and achieve higher earnings than their father.

🔥 Mars in 7th - Can get married before 25 and face divorce within a few years. If not, marriage may happen much later in life, similar to Sun in the 7th. Spouse will be quick-tempered if Mars is in fire signs, and more even-tempered if placed in earth signs.

🌸 Venus in 7th - Gets married at the right age. In some cases, there may be extramarital affairs. If afflicted, it can indicate the death of a spouse in rare instances. The spouse enjoys cultural and social events, is friendly, appreciates art, and might be a movie buff. If badly afflicted like really bad, it can indicate impotence in the spouse. When well placed, Venus brings a successful and long-lasting marriage.

🌙Moon in 7th - Caring and emotional spouse. Could baby you sometimes. Feels like home. Deep emotional attachment. If afflicted, emotional dependence or clinginess from them. You could be their emotional caretaker. If it's a waning moon, spouse could feel insecured and develop fear of abandonment which would lead to unhealthy behavior towards you. Mom-in-law could be nosey.

🗣️ Mercury in 7th - Spouse is younger or just has that forever-young look. They’re smart, proactive, and maybe lowkey a walking encyclopedia. Financial support through the partner is common. Super chatty bond when things are good…but if Mercury’s afflicted, leads to arguments. Petty debates, miscommunication, or straight-up talking in circles. If badly placed, you two might end up sleeping in different rooms or building quiet resentment over each other.

🔁 Rx Mercury in 7th - Spouse might be quiet, introspective, or the type to overthink a "k" text for 6 hours. Might marry someone from the past or go through on-again-off-again vibes. Spouse could be passive-aggressive or could be shutting down during fights can be a thing if not handled with emotional maturity.

🌍 Jupiter in 7th - Spouse could be from a different culture or even live far away from you. If in earth signs, they might be chubby. If in water signs, they could have a tendency toward drinking or escapism. Spouse is a foodie. If badly afflicted, they get bored easily and may leave when things get too serious. If afflicted, extramarital affairs might happen, or they might just disappear to buy milk.

🔁 Jupiter Rx in 7th - Either you or your spouse may be pansexual or bisexual, reflecting a fluid approach to attraction. They could be atheists, agnostic, or simply irreligious. Marrying late in life is common. This, in some cases, points to older/wiser spouse as well. In some cases, this could indicate a second marriage scenario.

Now let's get to the combo effect:

🌞 Sun + 💄 Venus in 7th - Attractive, charming spouse who loves the limelight or likes to post pictures of themselves. Selfie lover. If Venus is afflicted, high maintenance. If Sun is afflicted, dominating.

🔥 Mars + 🪐 Saturn in 7th - Disciplined hustler. Could be having construction or STEM background. Stubborn spouse. If Mars is afflicted, break stuffs when angry. If Saturn is afflicted, all work no play or controlling, abusive dynamics.

💄 Venus + 🍀 Jupiter in 7th - Ideal spouse placement and one of the best combos for a harmonious married life. If Jupiter afflicted, cheating, over-indulgence and moral loopholes. Might spend recklessly.

🔥 Mars + 👑 Sun in 7th - Spouse could be of higher status than you and might be in leadership roles too. Passionate and protective spouse. Mutual ambitions with "ride or die" energy. If afflicted, ego clashes, zero peace. Sexual energy is high but long-term peace is ehhh. Usually marries late in life. If not, ends in divorce.

💞Venus + 💬Mercury in 7th - Rom-com like marriage. Your spouse might be artsy, creative, maybe into music, writing, fashion, or literature. Could also be someone who loves texting paragraphs. Poetic and another best combo for a harmonious relationship. If afflicted, emotional manipulation, lying constantly and spouse might be flirting with everyone. Could be emotionally unavailable.

🔁Mercury Rx + 🌞 Sun in 7th - Spouse may be quiet, self-aware, humble, and wise beyond their years. Healer. If afflicted, Spouse may struggle with identity, ego, or expressing themselves. Breakdowns easily during emotional moments.

🌙Moon + 🔁 Saturn Rx in 7th - Your spouse may be emotionally mature, deeply reflective, and someone who takes relationships very seriously and won't play mind games. Wise soul. If afflicted, spouse be having mommy issues and might carry emotional baggage from their past. Mother-in-law issues for you as well.

Wanna go deeper into the layers of your placements? DM me for a complete astrology reading or a 5 year/8 year marriage report🌙💬 and check out my pinned post for pricing + details 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐

[hotchnerwrites]

Hi hi hi my babyy🤍🤍

First I want to apologize for appearing until now, life has become severely difficult :( How have you been? How is everything going?🫂

So now I'm someone's controversial young girlfriend🙇🏻‍♀️(it's not as many years difference as it sounds) and that gave me an idea with my favorite man🫠

What if Hotch and the reader have this mutual desire but Hotch doesn't approach the reader because her's younger and the reader doesn't approach him because her's afraid of rejection But one night maybe they share a kiss or a light touch that makes Hotch close himself off more and discourages the reader:( and finally when they go on a case the one from the head office who is Hotch's age flirts with the reader and she reciprocates first because she is single and second because she really loves that her couples are older 😮‍💨 and Aaron gets really jealous because he 'thought he was the only one' and that tension finally falls apart when he confronts her and she simply tells him that the head of the department is some kind of distraction about her crush on Hotch 🫠

The truth is that in the end I didn't know how to develop the idea, I'm sure you can do it better, I hope it was understood. 😭🙏🏻

As always take it only if you feel comfortable (and understand it) I send you all my love, I'm excited to be here again I'm not going to lie about it!!🥹💗💗

xoxoxo

-👩🏻‍🦰

Unspoken

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: SFW, jealous!hotch, mutual pining, angst, sort of happy ending, making out, no use of (y/n),

A/N: HIIII LOVELY, missed seeing you in my requests. things have been crazy on my end ngl 😭 moved cities, broke my teeth, med exams etc. god is testing me rn smhhhh. and congratulations on your new relationship!!!! so happy for you <3 (totally not jealous 😔/s) anyways, kind of went crazy on this request, LOOOOVED the idea so much. i wanted this man suffering in the fic lmaooo. anyways, here you go!!! hope you like it, and it's what you wanted!!! sending u all my love 💚

PS. Let me know if the formatting is off. It's wonky on my laptop but not my phone for whatever reasons.

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

There had always been something there.

Unacknowledged, simmering beneath longing glances and fleeting touches. An almost magnetic pull between you and Aaron— felt by both, acted on by neither. It existed in the quiet spaces between conversations, the way he positioned himself beside you during briefings, in the way his hand would almost touch the small of your back before withdrawing at the last second.

But that something was fated to remain unspoken. Unmentioned.

And that had been Aaron’s choice, not yours.

You never pushed him. Not when you caught his gaze lingering, not when he brought you coffee and no one else, not when he gave you his coat on cold nights without a word, not even when— after a particularly hard case— you had found yourself in the dimly lit hallway of a motel, wrapped up in his arms, listening to his uneven heartbeat like he was battling something within himself. 

For a second, you had let yourself hope. This had to be it. His breaking point.

But then he had pulled away. 

And the next day? He shut you out completely.  He didn’t meet your eyes in the briefing. He stopped those wordless gestures you had learned to find comfort in. His usual attentiveness toward you, the way he always ensured you were comfortable… was gone. He was probably more attentive towards Reid.

So, it became obvious. You adapted like you always did. You drew the line in the sand and stuck to your side. The conversations became strictly professional, words clipped but polite. You stopped bringing him a cup of coffee if he lingered in the bullpen late at night. On long flights home, he stopped offering you the seat next to him.

Even the team noticed.

Rossi had given Hotch a Look more than once, his stare heavy with disappointment. JJ asked if you were okay, and even Morgan had thrown out a casual, “What’s going on with you two?”

You vehemently denied everything. Everything was fine. Everything was normal.

What else could you have said? That you wanted Aaron? That you had spent months convincing yourself he had wanted you, too? That, in the end, he had rejected it— no, he had denied you— not even with words, but with distance?

You knew you deserved better. You deserved someone who would be proud to love you. Someone who wasn’t scared of the possibility of a relationship.

So, you moved on.

———

Then came Baltimore. 

Michael Keating was confident, charismatic, and older. He was the Chief of the Baltimore Division, respected and soft-spoken. He carried himself with ease, joked about the growing silver streak in his hair, and greeted everyone by name. He made people laugh and asked about their day.

And he noticed you. 

It started small. A compliment on your profiling. Deferring to you when asked about the unsub. 

You hadn’t meant to encourage it. But then again— why refuse yourself? You had spent too long pining for something that wasn’t meant to happen. You were single, and you wanted a change. And Michael was perfect.

Keating was different. He was direct in a way Hotch never was. He didn’t hesitate to place a hand on your lower back as he showed you around the precinct. He leaned in when he spoke to you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. He smelled like the ocean— sea salt and sandalwood.

But there was something about Michael that reminded you of Aaron. The little things. The way his voice softened when he said your name. The way he listened— giving you his rapt attention, something Hotch always did, but only ever with you.

Nevertheless, Keating wasn’t Hotch. And you weren’t going to let yourself draw baseless comparisons. So you let him flirt with you. It felt good to be seen. When he brought you your morning coffee, you accepted gratefully, smiling up at him. When he leaned in and said something low and teasing, you laughed.

That was when you felt it.

A prickle at the back of your neck. Someone watching.

You didn’t deign to turn, but you knew. 

Aaron.

For a second you felt suffocated. But the feeling was gone as swiftly as it had come. When you finally joined your team, Hotch was talking with García, and he didn’t even spare you a glance.

For the rest of the day, you pretended that it hadn’t affected you as much as it did. You maintained your professional façade, breaking only once when Michael slid you a sticky note with a silly doodle on it. Everything went well. Or so you thought.

Hotch brushed past you with nothing more than a curt “Excuse me” as he entered the meeting room. His voice held a subtle undercurrent of knowing, but you brushed it off. It just wasn’t your problem any longer.

But when Keating pulled out your chair for you, you felt it again— the prickling.

Hotch walked out of the room.

Emily noticed. 

“Whatever it is,” she muttered as you watched Hotch’s back disappear down the hallway, “you two need to sort it out before it affects the case.”

You know she’s right. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. What was there to say?

Aaron had no right to feel this way. He had his chance. If he wanted you, he should have said so. But he didn’t, instead, he turned tail and ran.

And you weren’t going to sit around waiting for him to come to.

————

The bar had emptied, the rest of the team long since in their rooms. You had stayed a bit longer, letting the bite of your drink settle into your bones. You needed it after the week you’d had. Michael had apologised profusely when you’d invited him; he had to meet with the prosecutor. After the initial sting of disappointment, you were glad that he wasn’t here. You needed some space from it all. You let your mind disconnect from the world, letting the faint hum of the music take over.

Which is why you weren’t prepared when Aaron cornered you. 

“Keating?” His tone was level as if asking you about the weather. But the way his hands were clenched tight told you a different story. “That’s who you want?”

Your stomach twisted, almost painfully.

Not this. Not this conversation, not after months of silent torture, months of being ignored, months of being treated like nothing.

“What does it matter to you?” You retorted, rolling your eyes. Fatigue seeped into your voice that had nothing to do with the case. “You don’t get to ask me that, Aaron.”

Something flickered in his eyes when you said his name. Maybe it reminded him of how you used to say it with warmth.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “Didn’t think he was your type.”

A short, humourless laugh escaped you. “My type?” You shook your head vigorously. “I didn’t realise I needed your opinion on that. You’ve barely acknowledged my existence this month.”

Hotch’s shoulders tensed. “That’s not—”

“Not what? Not fair?” Your eyes burned, “You pushed me away. You didn’t even ask how I felt. You chose for both of us and now you’re— what? Upset I’ve moved on?”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Enlighten me, then,” you snap, anger hiding the fact that you were begging for an answer, one you knew he’d never give.

Nothing. As expected. The silence between you stretched on. You didn’t know what you had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. All of a sudden, the atmosphere of the bar became a little too much. The stench of stale beer overpowered your nose and the tinny audio from the jukebox irked you. You slid off the barstool and threw a couple of crumpled bills on the counter.

Then, barely above a whisper, you heard him rasp, “I thought I was the only one.”

A punch to your chest might have hurt less. 

Your breath stuttered, heart aching at the confession that settled in the space between you. He was falling apart, and you could see it—the way his brows drew together, the way his throat bobbed as he tried to force out something he wasn’t ready to say.

And for the first time, you saw the truth for what it was.

Aaron Hotchner was a man who carried too much. Who loved too hard and too quietly. Who convinced himself that his feelings were a burden he couldn’t afford, even when he was faced with the enormity of it.

But he wanted.

God, he wanted.

And it terrified him.

A bitter laugh escaped you. How could he? No, how dare he expect you to hold on to the idea that you were his when he kept you at a distance further than the rest of the team? That no one else could want you the way he did?

“You could have been, Aaron,” you responded, the weight of the world suddenly crushing you. “But you were the one who made sure you weren’t.”

Something in him shattered. You could tell. The way he flexed his hand, the way his posture stiffened like he was dealing with a blow he wasn’t ready to receive.

“Why are you doing this, to me?” Hotch’s voice was hoarse, thick with emotion— anger, regret, longing and want all tangled together.

“I’m doing this to you?” Your voice wavered, and you hated yourself for it, “Hotch, do you even hear yourself right now?”

He stepped closer, crowding your space, eyes dark with something desperate. “I tried—” He dragged a shaky hand through his hair, “ I tried to stay away. I thought it was the right thing.”

“Right thing for who? It sure as hell wasn’t right for me,” you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest, ignoring the slight tremble, “You shut me out. You acted like nothing was there, like I had imagined everything.” Your voice cracked, “And now I get to deal with you being jealous because Michael actually sees me? Because he’s not afraid to show me wants me?”

A muscle in Aaron’s jaw fluttered as he repeated, “I told you, it’s not about that.”

“Oh, wasn’t it?” you cried, anger building, “You wanted me to wait for you? To exile myself in the dark and hope that maybe one day you’d stop being afraid of us? That’s not fair, Aaron. I can’t do that to myself. I deserve better.”

“I know.” His voice cracked on the words, and for the first time, you saw the raw emotion on his face— all of it. The weight of it, the struggle in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he had the right.

The anger ebbs out of you, replaced with something numb.

“Then why? Why didn’t you—”

Aaron moved then. He reached for you before he could stop himself, finger ghosting over your wrist before settling there, gripping gently. The heat of his fingers burned, like something he had been starving for but denied himself for too long.

“Because… I wanted you. Too much,” he admitted, voice grating like it pained him. His grip tightened on your wrist, thumb tracing the delicate skin. “I was afraid that if I let myself have this— you— I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

It was cruel, really. How he could unravel you with his words, make you forget about the months of pain and anger and hurt you’d endured. Even the way he looked at you like you were someone he couldn’t bear to lose.

“Aaron—”

Whatever you were about to say was swallowed up by his lips on yours. 

It wasn’t anything like the countless times you’d imagined it. You had always figured he’d be gentle, taking his time.

But this wasn’t soft, nor was it careful. This was desperate.

Like he was a man at his breaking point, like someone who had wasted time denying everything, only to give in all at once. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing across your cheeks as he tilted your head, deepening the kiss. He was pressed flush against you, sandwiching you between the barstool and his body like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers like sand. In the back of your mind, you faintly registered the whir of the jukebox as it changed the track.

You gasped against Aaron, and that tiny sound undid him. He groaned softly, tilting his head to chase you, to taste more, to lose himself in a way he had always wanted but never permitted.

You breathed in his scent, bourbon and coffee, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. You were anchoring yourself because this was everything you had been waiting for. 

The kiss lingered, months of tension evaporating between you, the space that had existed suddenly gone, replaced by something breathless and real. You pushed back against him, ready to get your heart’s desire. Aaron didn’t stop; he was kissing you as if it was the last thing he would ever do. He tasted heavenly, much better than you’d ever imagined. Every thought eddied out of your mind as you let the feeling of his lips against yours wash over you. Even before the moment was over, you knew that this memory would be branded into your soul. 

When Aaron finally pulled away, he didn’t go too far. You sucked in a ragged breath and squeezed your eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours. His breathing was uneven too, and you could feel the warmth of it against your lips. Then, slowly, his hands dropped from your face. He took a step back— reluctantly— just enough to reach up and loosen his tie. 

His fingers scrabbled at the knot for a moment before he wrenched it down forcefully. He then ran his hands through his hair again, mussing it in a way you’d never seen before, and let out a breathless laugh. For a split second, memories of the night when he had held you close flashed before your eyes. He had loosened his tie then, too, before enveloping you in his embrace. 

“I don’t want to be the one who let you get away,” Aaron whispered, his voice bringing you back to the present. 

The pain in your chest throbbed. At how broken and hopeful he sounded, all at once.

“Aaron,” you murmured, letting his name rest on your tongue for a moment too long.

“I—” he stopped, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself. This wasn’t where he had thought the night would go. You watched Aaron carefully, his chest still rising and falling too quickly. You reached for his hand, squeezing it once. 

“Aaron,” you uttered his name again, tone firmer, hoping to bring him back to you.

He looked at you then, chocolate brown eyes hardening with resolve. He started, “This… us…”

You cut him off, then. 

“Aaron,” you repeat, brushing your fingers over his jaw, “You need to choose. Me, us. Everything. You have to choose to stay.”

He glanced off to the side somewhere. Then, a slow exhale. A quiet moment of realisation.

He met your gaze again, almost bashfully this time, “If you’ll still have me.”

You laughed then, disbelieving because, of course, Aaron would say that, as if your heart hadn’t been his since the first time you saw him.

Neither of you spoke then. The past, the hurt, the hesitation— but also the possibility— swam through the charged atmosphere.

The choice.

“Okay,” you said simply.

When Aaron pulled you into his chest, you let him.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[kateksmallcuteowl]

June 26: Soulmates/Soulmate Marks AU

Your mark shows how old will your soulmate be when you fall in love with them. (Meaning both romantically and sexually)

For an event by @bagginshieldweek24

More headcanons after the cut. Seriously, there’s a lot, as I developed a whole idea but had no time to write a fic because of exams.

— Dwarfs come of age in around 80 y.o., having a soulmate from another race is a very rare occurrence; throughout the history of Middle-earth, there have been at most a dozen such cases, so most dwarves are unaware of this possibility. Having a mark with a number younger than the age of majority is a lifelong shame, essentially an admission of pedophilia. Unfortunately, this happens more often than having a soulmate from another race.

— Thorin spent his entire adult life, from the moment the mark appeared, wearing an extra layer of bandages under his bracers to prevent anyone from seeing the number. Fortunately, among dwarves, it is not considered inappropriate to hide the marks, as many value their privacy.

— The mark and thoughts about it were the reason why Thorin often appeared especially gloomy when the topic of romance came up.

— He truly tried to compensate for his "defectiveness" with his virtues.

— Of course, Thorin is a virgin.

— Bilbo, on the other hand, didn't think much about this; hobbits don't see anything wrong with living without their soulmate or seeing their soulmate as a friend. They are generally a loving people and don't worry about the concept of "the one and only."

— Although the topic of soulmates is considered highly romantic in hobbit literature, Bilbo was somewhat disappointed when he realized he would likely never meet his soulmate. (Hobbits are also unaware of inter-racial soulmates.)

— I tried to make young Bilbo look more like Frodo, so here he has smaller curls and a different style of shirt.

— Thorin and Bilbo both hid their marks, so when they felt an attraction to each other, especially after the Carrock, both were initially upset, thinking they weren't soulmates. Thorin, of course, was much more upset.

— During the two weeks they stayed with Beorn (yes, I'm mixing the movie and the book, what are you going to do about it? Slow burn needs time to be slow), they managed to reach the point of kissing near the river or something like that. But when Bilbo tried to unlace Thorin's tunic, Thorin stopped him and said that, unlike hobbits, for dwarves, sexual interaction is a very serious step in emotional attachment. It wouldn't be fair not to tell Bilbo what kind of monster he was getting involved with, because after seeing what Thorin had to show him, Bilbo might not even want to look him in the eye. Bilbo was honestly frustrated. (It is implied that Thorin used some term characteristic of a pedo... ahem)

— With a terrifyingly serious face, Thorin unwrapped the bandages on his wrist, and Bilbo, with a sinking heart, prepared to see a number like 5 or 12. Instead, there was a very respectable and completely normal age. Thorin turned away, not wanting to see the disappointment in the hobbit's eyes. Bilbo spent a few seconds calculating how long dwarves live and how old Thorin actually was.

— Thorin thought Bilbo wanted to shame him for having the audacity to enter into a relationship at such an age, knowing his soulmate's extremely young age. With closed eyes, he forced out that he was 195 and knew how disgusting he was because of it.

— Instead of a slap or something worse, which Thorin wouldn't have opposed, thinking any normal person had the right to treat him like that after seeing it, Bilbo reached for his own wrist and, with suspicious enthusiasm, pulled off the leather bracelet he had worn since the Shire. On the pale skin was clearly marked Thorin's age, written in dark ink with characteristic dwarvish notches.

— Some time passed in silence as they both realized that such a coincidence simply couldn't be.

— They were in for a very pleasant evening away from the company🌚🌝

— Later, when the entire company gathered by the fire, Bilbo and Thorin would come to them, holding hands, the hobbit nearly glowing with happiness in front, and a red-to-the-tips-of-his-ears Thorin slightly behind. This would be the first time anyone in the company saw Thorin without bandages, and if not for the matching age on Bilbo's wrist, now also not hidden by a bracelet, they wouldn't have believed Thorin could be normal with such a number on his skin.

— And the dwarves would realize how young Bilbo was by their standards.

— Truly, the ways of the Valar are mysterious.

— At the very end of the night, Fili would nudge Kili with his elbow and hint that since their uncle had an inter-racial mark, he might not be so angry and yell when he finds out that his brother has a four-digit number on his wrist.

[plutosunshine]

What trauma can become your power? Chiron in the houses

Chiron in the 1st house

Chiron in the first house signifies a deep inner wound related to personal identity, self-esteem, and the sense of self. This may stem from trauma experienced in early life when a person felt inadequate, rejected, or misunderstood in their unique expressions. Individuals with this placement often struggle to justify their existence, prove their worth, or meet others’ expectations to earn love and recognition.

However, this wound can become a source of incredible strength. Over time, individual learns to accept themselves as they are, with all their imperfections, vulnerabilities, and unique traits. This journey of self-discovery and acceptance not only helps heal their wound but also inspires others who face similar inner conflicts. Chiron in the first house makes a person highly sensitive to issues of individuality and self-expression, and their personal struggle with these themes becomes a powerful tool for helping others.

Chiron in the 2nd house

Chiron in the second house often indicates a wound related to self-worth, self-esteem, and material security. People with this placement may experience feelings of inadequacy, inner shame, or fear from an early age, believing they are undeserving of abundance or stability. They might have faced situations where their value was questioned by others, or they struggled to identify what makes them unique and worthy.

However, this wound carries the potential for profound transformation. As individual begins to work on recognizing their true worth, they can develop a powerful sense of inner resilience and learn to view the material world as a tool for growth rather than a source of fear. By overcoming self-doubt, they can become an inspiring example for others, demonstrating that a person’s value is not determined by external circumstances but emerges from inner confidence and self-acceptance.

Chiron in the second house has the power to transform this wound into a source of strength, helping the individual not only to build their self-esteem but also to guide others in discovering their true worth. Such a person may develop a unique gift for healing issues related to money, abundance, and self-worth, both in their own life and in the lives of those around them.

Chiron in the 3rd house

Chiron’s wound in the third house is associated with themes of communication, learning, self-expression, and interactions with the immediate environment, including siblings, neighbors, and close acquaintances. This placement may point to painful experiences related to the inability to be heard or understood, fear of saying the wrong thing, feelings of intellectual inadequacy, or traumas in relationships with relatives. A person with this placement often struggles with internal conflicts around expressing their thoughts and ideas, feeling that their voice does not matter or that their words are not taken seriously.

However, this wound can become a source of strength when the individual finds ways to overcome their inner fears and begins to see their experience as a unique gift. This transformative process often involves recognizing the value of their own voice and the power of words. Such individuals are capable of developing exceptional communication skills and becoming sources of support and inspiration for others. They may excel as teachers, writers, counselors, or lecturers, helping others overcome fears and learn self-expression. Their early pain teaches them to be attentive listeners and empathetic conversationalists, sensitive to the subtleties of communication and able to create a space for meaningful dialogue.

Chiron in the 4th house

Chiron’s wound in the fourth house is associated with matters of home, family, roots, and emotional security. This can manifest as a sense of lacking warmth, acceptance, or support during childhood, feeling alienated from one’s relatives, or an inability to find a place that feels like “home.” A person with this placement may experience an internal conflict between the desire to put down roots and the fear of being rejected or emotionally vulnerable.

However, the potential for transformation arises through working with this wound. By overcoming these inner fears and learning to create a sense of home within themselves, the individual can become a source of support for others, particularly for those who face similar challenges. They learn to transform pain into strength, developing a deep understanding of emotional needs and creating a space where others feel safe and accepted.

This wound becomes a source of strength when the individual recognizes that their ability to be empathetic, caring, and supportive has grown out of their own pain. This experience helps them build strong connections with others, grounded in genuine emotional depth and sincerity. A person with Chiron in the fourth house can become a symbol of healing energy within the context of family and emotional relationships.

Chiron in the 5th house

Chiron in the fifth house is often associated with a deep wound related to self-expression, creativity, love, and inner joy. People with this placement may feel unworthy of being in the spotlight, fear rejection for their talents, or struggle with insecurity in matters of personal fulfillment. This can manifest as a sense that their creativity is not valuable enough or as painful experiences connected to romantic relationships.

However, this wound, when worked through, can become a source of incredible strength. Those with Chiron in the fifth house have the potential to gain profound insight into how to help others embrace their uniqueness, support them in finding joy, and express their creativity. They can become mentors, inspiring others to overcome their fears and be true to themselves. This transformation not only makes them stronger but also more empathetic to the suffering of others, allowing them to use their wounds as a tool for healing, both for themselves and for those around them.

Chiron in the 6th house

Chiron’s wound in the sixth house is associated with a sense of inadequacy in daily life, service to others, and care for one’s body and health. People with this placement may experience inner conflicts stemming from feelings that they are not good enough in their work, that their efforts are undervalued, or that they are unable to care for themselves or others in the way they desire. This can manifest as chronic anxiety, difficulties establishing a healthy routine, or a tendency toward perfectionism that drains their energy.

However, this wound can become a powerful source of strength. A person with Chiron in the sixth house has the ability to transform their struggles into profound wisdom and an understanding of how to navigate daily challenges. They can become excellent mentors, healers, or specialists who help others organize their lives, overcome work-related difficulties, or improve their health. This experience teaches them to embrace imperfection in themselves and others and use it as a foundation for growth.

The core strength here lies in approaching oneself and others with compassion, recognizing the value of even the smallest efforts, and helping others find harmony in their everyday lives. Such individuals become a source of inspiration, demonstrating that wounds do not define us but can serve as a foundation for meaningful service that brings joy and purpose.

Chiron in the 7th house

Chiron’s wound in the seventh house is often associated with painful experiences in relationships and challenges related to finding a balance between oneself and a partner. This can manifest as feelings of rejection, disappointment in love, fear of intimacy, or a constant need to please others at the expense of one’s own needs.

However, like any Chiron wound, this trauma carries immense potential for healing and transformation. By recognizing their fears, failures, and behavioral patterns, individuals with this placement can develop deep empathy, wisdom, and the ability to support others through emotional and personal crises. This wound becomes a source of strength when they learn to harmonize with themselves, find a balance between independence and closeness, and build healthy relationships based on respect and mutual understanding. In doing so, they become an example for others, inspiring deeper and more conscious connections.

Chiron in the 8th house

Chiron in the eighth house often indicates deep emotional wounds related to themes of loss, transformation, intimacy, or matters of life and death. This can manifest through painful experiences such as betrayal, fear of losing control, or difficulties trusting others in close relationships. However, these very wounds can become a source of incredible strength and inner growth if the person is willing to recognize their significance and transform their experience.

Healing pain in the eighth house is possible through embracing vulnerability and exploring the power of transformation. This process can turn the fear of change into an ability not only to accept transitions but also to help others navigate through periods of crisis. People with Chiron in the eighth house can become remarkable mentors or healers, possessing a unique ability to understand others’ pain on a deep level and show them paths to healing. Their strength is born from the realization that true transformation begins with accepting the darker aspects of oneself, ultimately leading to inner freedom and empowerment.

Chiron in the 9th house

Chiron’s wound in the ninth house is associated with deep scars in the realms of higher education, philosophy, faith, the search for meaning, and travel. A person may feel an inner conflict or insecurity in their beliefs, doubt their own knowledge, or experience the pain of being unable to find their place within a worldview system. This wound often manifests as a sense of rejection of their ideas or beliefs or as a feeling of losing connection with something greater—be it cultural, spiritual, or intellectual belonging.

However, it is precisely through working with this wound that a person can gain immense strength. Chiron teaches us to heal our pain by sharing our experiences with others. The wound of the ninth house can become a source of wisdom if one recognizes that their unique journey, even if it has been full of doubt and searching, can inspire and guide others. They may become a teacher, philosopher, or guide, helping others find meaning in life and expand the boundaries of their worldview. By accepting their wound, the person becomes open to a diversity of perspectives, which makes them incredibly wise and tolerant. Thus, Chiron’s wound in the ninth house transforms into a source of strength, helping not only the individual but also those around them, building bridges between different cultures, religions, or philosophical systems.

Chiron in the 10th house

Chiron in the 10th house indicates wounds related to social status, career, achievements, and attitudes toward authority. This may manifest as a feeling of inability to achieve success or fear of responsibility. Such individuals often face criticism from society or loved ones, which can lead to self-doubt and uncertainty about their professional abilities. However, this vulnerability can become their strength if they recognize their fears and transform them into wisdom.

By overcoming the inner conflict tied to self-esteem and societal recognition, a person with Chiron in the tenth house can become a mentor to others, helping them overcome their own professional and personal barriers. This wound can provide a deep understanding of the nature of leadership, teach the balance between ambition and emotional needs, and show how to maintain resilience in challenging circumstances. Thus, Chiron in the tenth house has the potential to transform the pain into a source of inspiration and support for others.

Chiron in the 11th house

Chiron in the eleventh house indicates a wound related to themes of friendship, acceptance in groups, social ideals, and a sense of belonging to a community. A person with this placement may feel isolated or misunderstood within a collective, face betrayal by friends, or experience the sense that their uniqueness prevents them from being part of something larger. However, this wound can become a source of growth and strength. By working through their experiences, the individual learns to value their individuality and use it to build harmonious connections with others.

Chiron in this house grants the ability to mentor or inspire others, particularly those who feel “different” or out of place. The trauma associated with rejection can transform into the gift of creating communities where mutual understanding, respect, and support flourish. Thus, personal experiences of pain become the foundation for helping others find their place in the world.

Chiron in the 12th house

Chiron in the twelfth house often indicates a profound emotional wound connected to feelings of loneliness, separation from the world, or the suppression of emotions. This may stem from experiences of loss, hidden fears, or repressed traumas that a person carries within themselves, often without fully realizing it. The wound of Chiron here is tied to the subconscious, to what is hidden from the external world, and sometimes the person may feel lost, not understanding where their pain and anxiety originate.

However, this very wound can become an incredible source of strength and transformation. If a person becomes aware of their inner fears and wounds, they can learn to work with them, transforming them into compassion and wisdom. Chiron in the twelfth house offers the potential for deep healing—not only of oneself but also of others. Such a person can become a guide for those who are suffering, possessing a unique gift for delving into the hidden corners of the soul and helping others understand and embrace their shadows.

The key to turning the wound into strength is accepting one’s vulnerability and exploring the inner world through meditation, psychological work, or spiritual practices. Chiron in this house teaches that weakness can become a powerful resource for inner growth, and through serving and helping others, a person can find profound meaning and personal healing.

[yzzart]

Love your Tom blyth fics an unhealthy amount!!! I’m picturing reader and Tom being all lovey dovey at the premiers but playing it off as really good bestfriends UNTIL she goes to kiss him on the cheek and in instinct he turns his head to kiss her on the lips so they just say fuck it and hard launch there and then x

"An unplanned situation."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: a small gesture, with a sweet intention, revealed a promising secret.

word count: 1.359!

notes: i started this request in the morning and only had the opportunity to finish it a few minutes ago, forgive me for that, anon! — i hope you like it and of course, feel free to share ideas with me!

"Y/N, look here!"

Another request, among others, screams and countless flashes, was directed to you; being, theoretically, almost impossible to identify who had demanded your image. — There were so many voices mixing, not to mention the music in the background, but, you tried your best to pay attention to most of the cameras.

However, it wasn't anything you weren't used to; something that has already been normalized in your life.— And during the premiere of The ballad of songbirds and snake it was no different, and it was splendid; simply perfect. — Not to mention, the feeling of gratitude that grew in your chest.

Cameras and cell phones captured your every movement, your poses and the way your perfectly chosen dress was valued and highlighted on your body. — And how it matched the color palette of the film. — Everything was being recorded, at the exact moment, posted and commented on all social networks.

You had the opportunity to meet, talk and take photos with some of the cast. — It was so pleasant, the company and unity that everyone developed during the filming of the film was inexplicable and so adorable; you were grateful to have worked with so many talented people. — There were some people who were absent, until now, in your eyes, but you would definitely meet them again on the carpet.

And, of course, your eyes roamed the decorated room, matching the elements of the film, and crowded in search of a specific person. — It wasn't exaggerated words to say that you were starting to feel uncomfortable because he was missed; and the cameras recorded it. — Silent questions, which would be written, formed in the minds of the presenters and photographers.

Your boyfriend had yet to appear on the red carpet; perhaps he is giving a quick and curious interview or greeting someone. — That's what was going on in your head.

You and Tom had a secret relationship, ever since you met behind the scenes, in front of the world and all the cameras that may exist in it; something that was so risky and at the same time adventurous. — And that, as incredible as it might seem, you knew how to disguise it in front of your fans; even though they gradually became suspicious with comments, interactions and behind-the-scenes photos.

They were either smart or you and Tom were too far over the line. — This question was not important or essential for the moment. — And you considered each other best friends for interviews or responses to comments; you tried your best.

And so, Rachel sent countless screenshots of tweets, which talked about or mentioned the relationship between you and Tom, to you. — It's impossible to deny how funny it was.

Persisting in continuing to look for him and for a few seconds, your eyes meet his blue and so charming irises. — Its shade of blue was a magnificent and beautiful combination; something you would never get tired of admiring. —And there was no other thing, or anyone, that could take his eyes off you.

As if the only thing that mattered at that moment was you. — And everything around him simply disappeared.

"There you are!" — Tom walked towards you, easily as there weren't so many people on the carpet, and an enthusiastic smile forming on his lips; also accompanied by cameras and intense flashes. — "And so beautiful!"

Holding a part of your long and dazzling dress so as not to hinder your steps, you met him, and without wasting any time, hugged him. — A common gesture, and not so different or strange, for the spectators; so, you thought. — Tom's arms went around your waist, holding your protectively for a little while, while your arms positioned themselves around his neck.

Tom's fragrance, which you liked so much, filled your nose; it felt so good, and you felt your eyes weaken, contaminated by it. — And the british man was aware of that.

"You look perfect, always." — The older man distanced himself, just a little, and brought his face closer to your ear, wanting only you to hear. — "The most beautiful woman that has ever crossed my eyes." — The lenses probably captured a reddish pigmentation on your cheeks and it was not part of your makeup.

You placed one of your hands on his chest, and looking directly into his eyes; that shone at you, and it wasn't just because of the influence of the lights in your direction. — Tom's gaze was sincere, and passionate, intensely fascinating you. — He conveyed what he felt most with just his eyes.

And that was one of the facts about him that you were passionate about and recognized very well.

"Oh, shut up!" — Raising your hand and resting it a little away from your mouth, you laughed a little embarrassed and looked back at the cameras; remembering that they remained there and you knew that later you would see your interaction with Tom on some social media.

Again, a thing and situation you were used to.

"Look at that camera!" — A voice mingled among others, which requested the same request, asking you to take some photos together; something that would feed news, fans and press.

At no point, minute or second, did you and Tom remain distant or apart from each other; always a few steps close, hugging each other for photos and certain looks, completely indiscreet. — Even during brief interviews, as Blyth mentioned you or your character's work, you were silently watching. — One of the interviewers even commented on how cute she thought it was.

Tom's hand was on your waist, holding and almost covering you, making a quick caress in a few seconds and one of your hands was still resting on his chest; and you continued, of course, to be the focus of the cameras.

Quickly, with the intention of changing your pose and trying something new and also to take advantage of the fact that Blyth's face was almost close to yours, you decide to place your pigmented lips on his cheeks. — Such a cute and friendly gesture, and so common. —But, automatically and hastily, Tom turned his face away at the same time, without having in mind what you were, in fact, planning. — God, it was a shock; an absurd and completely intense shock.

For the first time that night, in that place and on those cameras, your lips touched Tom's lips. — It was very quick, good and surprising; and that definitely left a cold, freezing air in your belly accompanied by a desperate feeling in your mind. — Rumor has it that smoke was coming out of his head. — It was a peck, a quick and simple kiss.

When you separated, hurriedly, your eyes met Tom's once again; who were a little wide-eyed, expressing surprise. — Looking for something to say or do, just like you. — And you watched his lips curve into an almost smile, as if he was trapping him.

Shouts of enthusiasm and some possible whistles echoed throughout the immense place, along with some looks and expressions of surprise at what had happened. — And some people were worried if they had recorded the exact moment, of course. — Your fans were probably commenting frantically about what happened.

You really didn't know what to do but at no point did you move away from your boyfriend — now, official to the public — and keep your hand on his chest; as if it were, in fact, planned.

"A nice way to reveal it, huh?" — Tom laughed, relaxed and without a feeling of discomfort or uneasiness, he still had his hand on your waist; and he still squeezed you, then leaving you with another caress. — "I think." — He didn't look at the cameras, his orbits focused only on you.

They have always focused on you, regardless of what is actually happening; and that will never change.

"A nice way to reveal." — You repeated your words, but, as an affirmation and certainty; maybe, seeing how relieved Tom was, and not showing some kind of distress, your chest calmed down and you felt safe.

And soon, you and Tom became one of the most talked about topics on social media.

[keeryhours]

girls on film - jonathan byers

Jonathan Byers x shy! female! reader

Main Masterlist

ST Characters Masterlist

Summary:

When you get assigned a photography project with Jonathan, you end up trying something…experimental.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N:

So excited for my first Jonathan fic! I’ve been working on this for weeks so I’m so happy it’s finally done 😅

You adjusted the settings on your Nikon F3. Attaching the 55mm lens, you held the camera up to your eye, focusing on your subject - your dog. You were grateful for the fast shutter speed on your new camera, because the Border Collie did not sit still.

“Lucy, stay!” You commanded, hoping you could just get this shot for your photography class. The long haired black and white dog looked at you with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. She listened, but you knew you had only moments before she took off, ready to run the 5 acres of land your family lived on, chasing after the livestock.

You snapped the photo just in time before she stood and ran. You hoped you got a good one, but there was no way to tell until you developed the film. You did not want to get an F on this project just because your dog wouldn’t cooperate.

You sighed as you removed the lens from the camera body, storing both back in their bag. You loved photography - it had become a passion of yours your freshman year of high school. It was your favorite form of art. And you could do it completely solo - you honestly hated interacting with your classmates. Not that there was anything wrong with them (well, not most of them, at least), you just preferred your own company.

You slung the camera bag over your shoulder and walked through the yard and back to your house. The smell of dinner wafted from the kitchen, but you headed up to your room instead. You carefully sat your camera bag on your desk and fell back onto your full size bed.

Your room felt childish. Nothing had changed since middle school. There weren’t photos with friends decorating your mirror, no gifts from your nonexistent relationships. Your bed was still covered with stuffed animals (though you’d never admit you still liked sleeping with them). The walls were painted a pale pink. The only recent decorations were the prints you made of your photography.

Lucy, the farm animals, your family, school events you were asked to photograph for the yearbook. Flowers, photos from finally trips, anything interesting you’d found with your camera on you - which it usually was.

You hoped these photos of Lucy turned out so you could add them to the collection. The left side of your room needed something new. Hell, your life needed something new. Something fresh. Something exciting.

The next day at school, you snuck into the dark room during lunch. You had the space to yourself, which you were grateful for.

Firstly, you mixed together your chemicals so they would be ready, pouring them into their respective trays. You then unloaded the roll of film from your camera. You looked over the negatives, finding some photos of Lucy that turned out great - thank god. You turned the negative around, placing it in the carrier before carefully removing any dust. You placed the carrier in the enlarger. You adjusted the size, using the focusing wheel to make sure it was completely in focus. You adjusted the lens aperture to F8, sliding a filter into the enlarger.

Next, you took a sheet of the photo paper and placed it into the easel. You exposed the photo onto the sheet of paper for about 5 seconds. You moved the sheet to your tray of developer, sliding it in quickly and carefully, then moved the tray gently, watching as the chemicals moved and your photo of Lucy developed in front of your eyes. After 60 seconds, you used the tongs to remove the photo and place it in the stop bath. You slid this tray around, too, using a separate pair of tongs to remove the print and place it into the fixer. After 30 seconds, you checked the thermometer in your tray of water, finding it perfectly at 68 degrees Fahrenheit. You removed the photo and placed it in the tray of water for 2 minutes, emptying and refilling the water a few times to make sure to wash away all the chemicals. When you were done, you hung the black and white photo to dry and continued with the others you wanted to print.

When you were done, you flipped the lights back on, gathering your prints. You checked the clock on the wall and were relieved to see there was still a decent chunk of lunch left - hopefully there would be some pizza left to grab. You pulled the door open and immediately smashed into something - or someone. You stumbled back, your photos falling from your hands.

“I’m so sorry! Here, let me help,” the guy said, crouching down to gather your stuff for you before you had the chance to. He stood, handing your stuff back, and you found yourself looking into the brown eyes of Jonathan Byers. He looked down at your photos as he handed them over. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “I just finished up in here.” You brushed your hair behind your ear, feeling shy now that you were no longer in the safety of the darkroom alone.

Jonathan gave you a small kind smile, one that had your heart beating a little harder in your chest. “Your photos look great, by the way,” he added, gesturing to the prints clutched safely in your grasp.

“Oh, thanks,” you said, avoiding his gaze. You cursed yourself for the way you always got shy around other people. It was Jonathan, he was probably the nicest guy in your senior class.

Maybe it was the fact that you’d had a crush on him for forever, watching him in photography class, noticing the beautiful photographs he produced every single time. He was quiet, kind, kept to himself just like you. You had to admit you wanted to get to know him better, but you were scared.

“I’ll, uh, see you in class,” Jonathan said, that same friendly smile on his face. You nodded and slipped by him out of the door. You heard it close behind you as you quickly walked to the cafeteria, hoping there would be something left for you to eat.

You walked into 7th period Photography, taking your seat at your usual desk in the back. Mr. Howard was at the front of the room, talking with another student from last period as the rest of the class filed in. Jonathan gave you a small nod when he walked in, and you returned it before turning your head to hide the blush on your cheeks, again.

You turned in your work as class began, pleased with how the photographs of Lucy had turned out. About halfway through class, Mr. Howard clapped his hands together, commanding the attention of every student.

“Alright, class.” He drummed his hands on the desk like a drumroll, a mischievous smile on his face. “It’s time for your portrait partner project assignments!”

The whole class let out a chorus of groans. Mr. Howard only laughed. “Your partner assignments are posted on the bulletin board. Please check after class.”

Class went on as usual, but you couldn’t focus, too worried about who you would be paired with. You hated working with others, honestly. You preferred being alone whenever possible.

When class was over and most of your classmates had already left, you tentatively made your way over to the board. You scanned the list with your finger tracing down the list of names until you found your own, and the name beside it - Jonathan Byers.

It could definitely have been worse. Jonathan was nice, and he was talented. But he was also…really cute.

“Looks like we’re working together,” a voice came from behind you, and you turned to see Jonathan smiling politely with his bag over his shoulder.

“Looks like it,” you agreed, unable to make eye contact with him. “Do you…want to work at my place or yours?”

“Uh…” He thought for a moment. “My mom has work until late and my brother has his D&D campaign, if you want to come over?”

“Sounds good,” you said. You hadn’t exactly been thrilled at the idea of Jonathan in your middle school style bedroom.

“I can give you a ride, if you want?”

The thought of riding in Jonathan Byers’ car alone with him terrified and excited you. You’d never been alone with a boy before.

“Okay,” you agreed, looking down to hide the blush on your face. You were pretty sure he saw right through you, though - you weren’t exactly being subtle.

He nodded towards the hallway, indicating for you to follow him out of the classroom. You did, and the two of you walked out to the school parking lot together. No one paid you any mind.

He led the way to his rusted Ford LTD. After unlocking the doors for you both, you slid into your respective seats. It took him a few times to get the car started, but eventually it did.

The Byers lived a bit out of the way, a good distance from the main part of Hawkins. So did you, but you had never been out this way. He drove up the dirt driveway of the small house, parking off to the side to leave room for his mother’s car.

You had never been to any of your classmate’s houses before - not since middle school when you were best friends with Chrissy Cunningham, before you drifted apart. It was strange being here alone with him, and the fact that you liked it was even stranger.

Jonathan unlocked the front door and led you inside, walking down the hall towards what you assumed was his bedroom. His room was tidy, his bed made and no clothes strewn across the floor. He had a turntable with stereo on his dresser with a large collection of records and an Evil Dead poster on the wall, which you noticed immediately.

“That’s my favorite movie!” You said, suddenly excited. “I love Ash.”

Jonathan smiled, gently setting his bags on the bed. “It’s a great movie. One of my favorites, too. You like horror?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “My favorite genre.”

You started browsing through his records. He had a lot of great music. You picked out The Smiths’ debut album. “Can I?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. He began pulling his camera out of its bag and getting it set up while you lifted the cover of the turntable and placed the record down gently. You turned it on and lowered the arm to the record, the music beginning to fill the room, quiet enough to just fill the background while you talked.

Jonathan turned to you with his camera in hand - a Pentax MX, you recognized. He fiddled with his settings a little, then smiled at you. “Ready to get started?”

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy again. “Where do you want me?”

“Um…” He thought for a second, looking around the space. “How about just against the wall here? Just a plain background. I’ll open the curtain.”

You moved to the wall, adjusting your hair as you walked. Jonathan held his camera up to his eye, making sure he was ready to shoot.

He directed you in a series of poses as he took photo after photo. It was extremely awkward - you were always the one behind the camera. You didn’t like being in front of it. But Jonathan was a complete professional, making you feel as comfortable as possible. You started having fun about the time the song switched to Pretty Girls Make Graves.

“Let’s take a little break, then we can switch,” he said after a good 30 minute session, lowering his camera. “You did great.”

As Jonathan put his equipment away, you wandered around his room. You spotted several books on photography on a shelf, and you reached for one, opening it up and flipping through it.

It was filled with black and white photographs, all of them beautiful portraits. You slowly looked through the book, admiring the stunning work, until you reached a section that made you stop, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“I don’t know how people have the confidence to do this,” you said, looking down at the tasteful nude photos. Women posing with their breasts fully exposed to the camera, each looking absolutely beautiful.

Jonathan looked over your shoulder. “It’s just art,” he said, a small smile on his face. “If you’re working with a photographer you’re comfortable with…I imagine it’s easy.”

You shook your head. “I can’t imagine.”

It was silent for a moment as you both gazed down at the photos. “Would you…ever want to try?”

Your head snapped around in his direction, your eyes wide. “What?”

“You- you could try it,” he said, suddenly very nervous. “We could try it. If you want to.”

You felt yourself blushing all over your entire body. You slowly closed the book, turning around to look at Jonathan. “You…want to take these kinds of photos…of me?”

“Yeah, why not?” Jonathan said with a shrug and that shy smile. “I’m a photographer. You’re modeling. And…you’re beautiful. You’d do amazing.”

You couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. Jonathan wanted to take nude photos, of you?? But you had to admit to yourself…you were intrigued. You hadn’t had any exciting experiences in your life. It was about time for something to happen.

And did he just call you beautiful?

“O…okay,” you said, trying to find your confidence. “How…do we do this?”

“Well,” Jonathan started. “You can, uh…undress, and I’ll get my camera ready?”

Your hands were shaking as you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you said. “Let’s do this.”

Jonathan turned around, giving you privacy as he fiddled with his camera. You lifted your shirt over your head and dropped it to the ground. Next you undid your jeans, pushing them down your legs and dropping them into a pile with your shirt. You took a deep breath before you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, dropping it and then sliding your panties down your legs.

Completely naked, you finally fully realized what you had gotten yourself into. You were currently standing naked in Jonathan Byers’ bedroom. You felt your nipples hardening as they were exposed to the cold air. You held a hand across your breasts, as if you weren’t completely naked from the waist down too and about to have nude photos taken. “Okay…I’m ready.”

Jonathan turned around, his eyes going wide when he saw you. His gaze raked over your body before meeting your eyes again. “You- uh- you look- you look great,” he said, pink blush rising on his cheeks.

You couldn’t help but smile. It made you feel better that he was nervous, too. “Thanks,” you said shyly. “Um…I guess we should get started?”

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Jonathan said quickly, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Um, you can stand over there?” He pointed to the blank space on his wall.

You moved over there, dropping your hands from your breasts. Jonathan locked eyes with them for just a moment before he was looking at your face again. “Want me to put on some music?”

“Please,” you said, feeling like it would help you get in the zone and be more comfortable.

Jonathan walked to the record player, flipping through his records before pulling one out and placing it on the turntable. David Bowie’s voice carried through the room, and you smiled. “I love Bowie.”

“Me too,” Jonathan said, returning your smile. He moved back in front of you and lifted the camera to his eye. “Okay, just pose like…this?” He said, miming the placement of your arms.

You held your arms behind your head the way he showed you, kneeling down on the carpet. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” he said, snapping a bunch of photos. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed deeply. Having your naked body on full display was a new, terrifying experience, but it was also…exhilarating. You were kind of loving it.

Jonathan hadn’t felt so inspired in ages. Something about your body was perfect for photography, he thought you looked beautiful and you photographed like a real model. He could tell you were shy, but you were doing an amazing job. These photos were going to be some of the best he’d ever taken.

He instructed you through different poses, encouraging you the entire time. The longer the session lasted, the more comfortable you felt. By the time a few songs had passed, you were honestly having a great time.

“How about you sit on the bed for this one?” Jonathan said, gesturing to his bed. You sat down on the edge of it, looking to Jonathan for more instructions. “Just hold your arms like…this.”

You did your best to copy what Jonathan was trying to show you. “Like this?”

“No, kind of like…” He lowered his camera to hang around his neck and moved over towards you. “This.” He reached for your arms and began to pose you, but his fingers accidentally brushed over your hardened nipple. You gasped, jumping slightly at the sensation, and Jonathan looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” He said, dropping his hands. “I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay,” you said, giggling lightly. “I…didn’t mind.”

Jonathan looked into your eyes, like he was searching for something. His gaze lowered to your lips, then back to your eyes. The next thing you knew, he was leaning in, and you felt his lips press against yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you kissed him back. His hand came up to cup the side of your head, his thumb caressing your cheek. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you opened, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth completely, dancing with your own.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were finally having your first kiss - at 18, but whatever - and it was with Jonathan Byers. While also naked.

Your hand slid beneath his shirt, feeling the skin of his stomach and chest. He pulled back and pulled it over his head before moving back to your lips, kissing you hungrily as his hands roamed your bare skin.

You pulled away, suddenly nervous. Jonathan looked as if you’d just yelled at him, like he felt bad for overstepping your boundaries, which he hadn’t done at all. “Have you…ever done this before?” You asked.

Jonathan looked back at you, this time a slight blush on his cheeks. “Uh, no. Never.”

“Me either,” you admitted, which made Jonathan smile a bit.

“I thought you’d think less of me,” he said. He reached for your hand and held it in his own. “Like I’m the Freak no one wants to go out with.”

“I don’t think that at all,” you assured him. It was your turn to place your hand on his cheek and turn him to look at you. “I think you’re really handsome. And the girls at school are missing out if they overlook you.”

Jonathan smiled again, his cheeks tinged red. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl in school.”

You blushed as well, your whole body heating. “That’s definitely not true.”

“Well, I think it is.” Jonathan caressed your face with the back of his hand, looking into your eyes. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. The way I’ve always seen you.”

“You noticed me?” You were surprised, because no one noticed you. You were grateful you weren’t exactly picked on, but it would be nice for your classmates to know you’re there.

“Of course I did,” Jonathan said, like it was obvious. “You’re the best photographer in school. Your photos are always beautiful. You have so much talent, and you’re so pretty and kind.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He had noticed you? And not only noticed you, but felt those things about you like you had about him?

“I think you’re the best photographer in school,” you said shyly, unable to meet his gaze now. “And you’re always kind, even when people are dicks to you. And you’re so handsome it makes my heart beat faster when I see you.”

Jonathan smiled, looking down at his hands. “I can’t believe you feel the same way about me.”

You thought for a moment. You could keep sitting here being all shy, or you could take what you wanted. You could stop sitting on the sidelines of life and do something you want for once. Something he wants, too.

You turned to him, and he turned to you. You moved in, and he did the same. Your lips pressed together again, and you kissed him eagerly this time, your hand resting on his face as he placed his hand on your hip. You gently pushed him down on the bed, and he obeyed. He watched wide eyed as you climbed onto his lap, grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hips.

“God, you…you look so beautiful,” he said breathless, eyes roaming your body hungrily. You grabbed his hands and slowly trailed them up your body, rubbing over your ass and up your sides until you placed them over your tits. His eyes somehow went even wider, a rush of air leaving his lips. “J-Jesus Christ.”

“You can touch me,” you said, bolder than you felt. “You can touch me wherever you want.”

Jonathan let out a shuddering breath and you removed your hands, leaving him there to do as he pleased. He slowly began massaging your tits, thumbs running over your peaked nipples, making you shiver. You rotate your hips as you grinded against his lap, feeling him growing harder and harder beneath you. His expression looked totally fucked out already and you’d barely even touched him.

Your hands slid under his t-shirt again. “Why don’t you take this off?”

He sat up quickly, pulling his shirt off and over his head. You took in the sight of his bare chest, hands roaming the now exposed skin. Then you surprised him by moving farther down his body. He breathed in a gasp of air as your hands began undoing his jeans.

He watched with rapt attention as you got them undone, lifting his hips to help you pull them and his boxers off his body. His cock sprung free, long and hard and leaking precum already. He was bigger than you expected.

“H-oh shit,” he breathed out as you wrapped your hand around his cock, feeling it twitch in your hand. You moved forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, running your tongue around it experimentally. His hips bucked up- “Sorry! Shit, sorry-“ but you didn’t mind. You liked that he was so weak for you, so desperate for more of your touch.

You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, taking more of him every time you lowered your head. His hands were gripped in tight fists in his bed sheets, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them but needed to hold onto something.

You pulled off of him. “You can touch me,” you reminded him, a little giggle in your voice. “I want you to touch me.”

Jonathan just nodded, but when you went back to sucking his cock, he grabbed the back of your hair with one of his hands. He wasn’t shy about his moans - either that or he couldn’t help it - but you were loving it. You had never done this before, but the noises he was making let you know you were doing a good job. An amazing job, apparently.

“Baby,” he moaned, high and desperate. “Feels so good. Oh my god- it’s so good.”

You almost laughed, he was so cute, but you kept it together as you took him deeper and deeper with every pass, running your tongue around his tip every time you reached it.

“Fuck, fuck,” he moaned, his breaths coming in shorter bursts. “I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop right now. And I really…really wanna do more with you.”

You wouldn’t have minded making him cum with your mouth, but doing more sounded way too enticing. You pulled off of him and he watched as a string of saliva connected your lips to his cock, dropping his head back on the pillows with a groan.

Crawling up his body slowly, you placed kisses as you went, making him shudder. When you reached his lips you kissed him again, his hands sliding up your sides.

“God, you are…so hot,” he groaned, hands squeezing the plush skin of your ass before sliding back up your body, enjoying every inch of you.

“So are you,” you hummed, kissing his neck, biting and sucking when you found the spot that made him moan. Then, to your surprise, he grabbed you and flipped you both so he was on top.

He started kissing your neck, making you moan beneath him as he left purple hickies on your skin. You felt his hard cock pressed up against your core, and he pulled back, looking at you with pleading eyes that contradicted his next words.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked, his voice raspy. It was obvious he very much did. “We don’t have to. If you want to stop now, we can.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you said quickly. “I…want to keep going. Do you have a condom?”

“Shit,” he hissed. “No. This isn’t, uh, something I do often.”

You giggled. “It’s okay. We can still do it. Just, uh…pull out?”

Jonathan nodded vigorously. “I can do that.”

He reached down between your bodies, wrapping his hand around his cock as he dragged the head between your folds, gathering your slick on him. Then he was pressing at your entrance, gaze darting back up to look into your eyes.

“Let me know if you don’t like it, okay?” He said. “I can stop any time. We don’t have to do this.”

“Jonathan,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s okay. Just do it.”

He nodded, then looked back down to where you were connected as he slowly began pushing inside. It stung at first, the intrusion unfamiliar and painful the farther he filled you, but it eased into a kind of pleasure before long. You held onto his shoulders tightly.

Jonathan groaned when he bottomed out inside of you, body shuddering from the sheer pleasure of being buried inside your tight, wet walls. It felt amazing for him, better than his hand, better than what he dreamed sex would be like. You were perfect, like your body was made for him, made to take him.

“Oh my god, Jonathan,” you moaned. “Feels so good. You’re so big. Please move, need you to fuck me.”

He moaned, hand gripping tightly in the bed sheets again. “Fuck, if you say things like that I’m gonna cum faster than I want to.”

He pulled back out slowly before rolling his hips back into you. It felt even better that time, a high whine coming from your lips. Reassured seeing that you were enjoying it, he set a steady pace, thrusting into you quickly. He buried his face in your neck, moaning as he truly began to fuck you.

“God, this is…fuck, feels so good. You feel so fucking good. Shit, I can’t-“ He cut himself off with another moan, high and whiney and so fucking hot.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling lightly at his dark brown locks. You wrapped your legs around his waist, guiding him to fuck you faster, which had him moaning your name over and over again.

“Jonathan,” you moaned, back arching off the bed. “Please, I-“

Jonathan reached between your bodies, fingers beginning to rub at your clit. He had the idea, but didn’t exactly know what he was doing.

“Rub in circles,” you told him, although what he was doing didn’t feel bad. He did as you instructed, rubbing quick tight circles on the sensitive bud. “Fuck, yeah, just like that. Just like that.”

The combined feeling of his cock deep inside you and his fingers working against your clit had a coil tightening in your belly, your peak coming faster and faster. “Jon, I’m-“

Your orgasm crashed into you, having you seeing stars as your back arched off the bed, pussy clenching around him as you called his name again and again. “Jonathan! Oh my god, Jonathan-“

It sent Jon over the edge too, crying out loudly as he quickly pulled out and pumped his cock a couple times as he shot his load all over your chest, stomach and thighs. It was so much, and you had never seen a guy cum before. You watched him with wide eyes, the sight turning you on all over again.

You both caught your breath, trying to calm down after all that. Jonathan reached for a dirty shirt on the floor and cleaned you off, then laid down on his bed next to you.

“That was absolutely incredible,” he breathed, wrapping an arm around you. “You were incredible.”

“That was amazing,” you agreed. He leaned over and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“Be my girlfriend,” he said, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” he laughed. “Haven’t you realized how into you I am? Especially after all this?”

You blushed, hiding your face in his chest. “Yes. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

The two of you cuddled in bed for a while longer, until you looked over at his alarm clock and saw the time. “Oh god. I’m gonna be late for curfew.”

Jonathan looked over at the time, too. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. Do you want me to give you a ride home?” He asked. “We can, uh, do your part of the project tomorrow,” he added, cheeks tinged red.

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling and giving him a kiss. “Sounds good to me.”

You both got dressed, trying to look as if you hadn’t done what you had just done. You left his room and headed down the hall - seeing Jonathan’s mom, Joyce, sitting in the living room.

She smiled at you awkwardly. “Hi, so nice to meet you.”

You took her hand in yours, blushing furiously as Jonathan avoided eye contact with his mother. “Nice to meet you, too,” you said, giving her your name.

As you and Jonathan walked out hand in hand, he turned to you. “She definitely knew what we did.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

tag list

@shes-an-odd-bird @cassandracorvo

[writerasss]

DARAKARAK and TROPES

In Vedic astrology, the Darakarak planet (the one with the lowest degree in your chart, excluding Rahu and Ketu) represents your spouse and the dynamics of your romantic relationships. Each Darakarak brings a unique "trope" or theme to how love and marriage play out. Here’s how different planets as Darakarak relate to popular romance tropes:

---

Sun as Darakarak: Enemies to Lovers

Traits: The Sun symbolizes ego, pride, leadership, and individuality. With Sun as your Darakarak, relationships often involve power dynamics, mutual respect, and growth through overcoming initial clashes.

Trope:

Your relationship may start with conflicts, competition, or a sense of rivalry (classic enemies-to-lovers energy). Over time, both individuals learn to admire each other’s strengths.

There’s often a journey of healing egos and finding harmony.

Examples: "You started as my rival, but now you’re the person I trust the most."

---

Mercury as Darakarak: Friends to Lovers

Traits: Mercury signifies communication, intellect, and playfulness. It fosters bonds built on mutual understanding, curiosity, and fun.

Trope:

The relationship may begin as a close friendship where trust and laughter dominate. Eventually, deeper feelings emerge as you both realize the connection goes beyond platonic.

Expect witty banter, inside jokes, and shared intellectual pursuits.

Examples: "I didn’t realize I was in love until I started missing your voice at the end of every conversation."

---

Venus as Darakarak: Fated Soulmates or Star-Crossed Lovers

Traits: Venus governs love, beauty, and romance, making this Darakarak deeply tied to themes of passion, devotion, and harmony.

Trope:

Love feels otherworldly or destined, often with a magnetic pull. There could be external obstacles (e.g., family, society) that test the bond, leading to the "star-crossed lovers" vibe.

The connection is filled with luxury, art, and sensuality, emphasizing romance and emotional fulfillment.

Examples: "We were always meant to find each other, no matter how impossible it seemed."

---

Moon as Darakarak: Comfort and Healing Love

Traits: The Moon represents emotions, nurturing, and intuition. With Moon as your Darakarak, relationships are about emotional safety and mutual care.

Trope:

A "healing love" that feels like home. You may meet during a vulnerable phase, helping each other grow emotionally and find solace in the connection.

It’s the ultimate "you complete me" dynamic.

Examples: "You’re the calm in my storm, and I’ll always come back to you."

---

Mars as Darakarak: Passionate Opposites or Love-Hate

Traits: Mars symbolizes energy, drive, and passion. Relationships often involve intensity, physical attraction, and a fiery dynamic.

Trope:

A fiery, love-hate connection. You might clash over strong opinions or desires, but the chemistry is undeniable. Passion fuels the relationship, whether through fights or love.

Examples: "We argue like fire and ice, but we burn brighter together."

---

Jupiter as Darakarak: Mentor-Protector Love

Traits: Jupiter is about wisdom, expansion, and guidance. Relationships are built on mutual respect, shared values, and growth.

Trope:

A nurturing relationship where one partner often plays the role of a mentor, guide, or protector. Love grows through shared goals, learning, and emotional maturity.

Examples: "You inspire me to be a better version of myself every day."

----

Saturn as Darakarak: Slow Burn or Second Chances

Traits: Saturn represents discipline, patience, and karma. It brings lessons and maturity in love, often through delays or challenges.

Trope:

The relationship is a slow burn, taking time to develop trust and understanding. There might be obstacles, separations, or second chances involved, but the connection grows stronger with time.

Saturn’s karmic influence may make the relationship feel fated, with lessons to be learned together.

Examples: "It took time for us to find each other, but now I can’t imagine life without you."

---

Rahu as Darakarak: Forbidden Love or Obsession

Traits: Rahu symbolizes unconventionality, obsession, and breaking norms. Relationships are intense, transformative, and often nontraditional.

Trope:

A "forbidden love" or "taboo" connection, where societal norms or personal fears are challenged. The relationship often pushes boundaries and teaches transformative lessons.

Examples: "You’re the one thing I was told to avoid, but I can’t stay away."

[organic-bloodbath]

Can you write about kang Dae-ho x American reader, that Dae-ho has developed a big crush on the reader but he doesn't know how to respond to it because he's never been ina relationship before and everyone else in the group (except the reader) notices it and tease him about it?

Just admit you like me

Dae-ho x American!Reader

This applies to two different requests i got, the second one being:

"Can write about Dae-ho x American reader that Dae-ho having a crush on reader saves her in the mingle game and once it came down to two players, Dae-ho was able to have an opportunity to admit his feelings to the reader and share their first kiss?"

— Anon

Summary: As above. Dae-ho just being a nervous wreck around you.

A/N: i love this man sm. He's just a bit lost with his feelings here.

☆☆☆

You felt out of place. You were the only non-Asian player here and felt like everyone's eyes were on you whenever you weren't paying attention, though you might have been only imagining things.

You had arrived to Korea to spend your holidays here, you got two weeks off from college and needed to travel somewhere by yourself. Somewhere you couldn't possibly run into anyone you personally knew. Joining a game of life and death for money - a lot of money too - hadn't been on the list of things and places to experience during your stay in this country.

When the first person was shot to death, all you wanted to do was run away like so many other players, but you knew there was nowhere to escape. You felt your body shaking and it was a miracle your movements weren't noticed.

Suddenly, as you started running again, you tripped and lost your balance, falling backwards after some idiot pushed you - intentionally or not. For a second you were sure you were going to die, that was it, your part on the game ended before it had even properly started. Your family would report you as a missing person and would never get you back home or even know what happened to you.

Until you felt someone grab your body behind you. Arms wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you against their chest. The massive doll had turned to face you right at that same second, so you weren't able to stand up and take a better position. This person was fully in charge of holding you up and saving your life in process. The position you were in was extremely uncomfortable.

When you were allowed to move again, this person helped you to stand up again on your own, and you turned around to face him. Now in front of you stood a young man, looking down at you.

"Oh, thank you," you said quietly. "You saved me."

The doll turned around again, freezing you on your place, your head still turned towards the man's face. You had been too slow to react and continue the game.

"You're welcome," the man subtly said between his teeth, trying not to move his lips too much.

Before you started running again, he gave you a sweet smile. In only a few seconds he catched up with you and stayed right in front of you.

"Stay behind me," he said quietly, and you did as you were told.

You ran the rest of the game the same pace as him, not moving anywhere behind him. You were going to be screwed if he was going to be shot and you'd have to jump over his dead body.

But luckily, both of you made it to the end. After reaching the finish line, you walked to the guy who had catched you.

"Hi, um, thank you again," you said nervously. "Without you i'd be dead, i suppose."

"No big deal, glad to help," he smiled.

"I'm Y/N," you said and offered your arm for him to shake.

"Dae-ho," he said with a slight smile, taking your hand in his, which was much bigger than yours.

When he didn't figure out what more to say, you left him to stand there alone and went back inside.

That evening, Dae-ho wanted to approach and talk to you, but he was constantly overthinking what he would say to you. How did you start a conversation with a stranger? With a woman as gorgeous as you?

"Hi, how are you?"

"Good, thanks for asking."

"Okay, great. Bye."

Talking to men, he didn't care what he said to them and if it would mess up the conversation. To you, he would have wanted to make a good impression.

He didn't know what it was about you but when had saved your life during the game and you had turned to look at him and thank him, he was so taken aback by the sight of you for a second he had almost forgotten how to move.

☆☆☆

The next day arrived and you were given 10 minutes to prepare groups of five for the second game. You looked around the room, until your gaze landed on the group which Dae-ho was included.

"Hi, um, could i join your group?" you asked shyly, not knowing who you could rely on. The only person that had spoke to you by far, and helped too, was Dae-ho, and he felt like the safest option to choose. You looked at all three men at the same time, meaning the question to all of them.

"Of course, welcome," Gi-hun said smiling and motioned you to sit down next to him as you waited for the game to start.

You looked towards Dae-ho who only gave you a nod and an awkward smile. One more girl joined the group. She was apparently pregnant, but you all welcomed her with open arms.

When it was your group's turn to play, your feet were linked to each other, your left foot against Dae-ho's.

You rested your hand on Dae-ho's waist, your other hand on Gi-hun's back as well to keep your balance as the five of you started walking forward in total sync between the mini games.

You couldn't see it because you only kept your gaze forward, but every time you pressed your hand on Dae-ho's back, his cheeks turned a little red and his heart started beating faster. And when you let go, he instantly missed your touch.

When you had finished the entire game and could walk on your own again, all of you cheered in excitement for surviving another game. You hugged Gi-hun next to you and then wrapped your arms around Dae-ho, completely startling him.

"We made it," you smiled against his chest and let go.

You didn't think too much of it, you were a people hugger. The hug didn't last longer than couple of seconds, but Dae-ho would think about your touch on his skin until he fell asleep that night.

☆☆☆

"So," Gi-hun started as your group was eating the dinner together after the second game, "what's it like to live in America? Which state are you from?"

"I've been living in California for the past five years, though i was born in Michigan. I moved there for college and really like it there," you explained.

Gi-hun and Young-il asked bunch of questions about your studies, the differences you've noticed between the U.S. and Korea and so on. They told you about places which you must visit before you return to California and you had heard of none of them before, excited to go and see them. Gi-hun especially mentioned one diner you'd have to try.

Dae-ho sat next to you, barely saying anything during the conversation, just looking at you, smile on his face. Your voice was like music to his ears and he could have listened to you talking all day long until you were out of breath.

"Right, Dae-ho?" you asked, turning your face towards him, startling him out of his trance. He hadn't realised he had zoned out and not listened to you for the past couple of minutes.

"Huh?" he breathed out and straightened his back. "Yes, right, exactly."

He had no idea what you had said to him, but in panic he knew he should just agree whatever you were saying.

"See, the Marine guy agrees with me too," you said to Gi-hun and put your hand on Dae-ho's shoulder.

Dae-ho noticed Jun-hee holding her laugh but tried to ignore it. You paid it no attention. When you had turned your face away from Dae-ho, he gave Jun-hee an annoyed look to shut it.

"So, Y/N," Jun-hee started, taking care of the next route in the conversation, giving Dae-ho a subtle, but suggesting grin. "Are you in California by yourself or with someone?"

"Oh, i'm not alone," you said, making Dae-ho's heart drop for a second. "I live with my roommate, Sarah."

"That's nice," Jun-hee said slowly. "There's nobody else, hm, special in your life?"

"Not right now, if you don't count my dog," you chuckled.

Jun-hee winked at Dae-ho when you weren't watching.

Gi-hun and Young-il were talking together about something that didn't interest Dae-ho, and Jun-hee got up to go to the bathroom. That left you and Dae-ho alone, just the two of you for a moment.

"What do you plan to do with the money when we get out?" you asked. "Like, after you've payed off whatever debts you owe, of course."

Dae-ho tried to gather his words together and explained some of his plans to you.

"And you?" he asked.

"Well, i'm not sure yet," you said. "I know i want to travel a lot, maybe spend a year just exploring the world."

"That sounds fun," Dae-ho agreed. "I've always wanted to travel more."

"Maybe you could join me one day," you suggested, smiling.

"Oh, yea, maybe," Dae-ho said and turned his face away from you. He felt his cheeks becoming warmer.

☆☆☆

Next morning, you truly started to feel like Dae-ho was intentionally ignoring you. You had had that feeling ever since the day one. Almost every time you looked at him and your eyes connected for barely a second, he immediately turned his face away and avoided your gaze.

Jun-hee was walking towards the bathroom, but you managed to stop her and pull her to the side.

"Hey, can i ask you something?" you asked quietly, looking around you to see if anyone else would hear you, until turning back to her. "I don't know if i'm just imagining things but is Dae-ho mad at me or something?"

Jun-hee furrowed her eyebrows. "Why do you think that?"

"I don't know, he's seemed to avoid me and i feel like i've made him maybe upset."

"Oh don't worry, he's not mad at you," she chuckled.

You furrowed your brows, confused what might be the problem then. "What is it then? Do you know something?"

Jun-hee was about to say something but shut her mouth before any words were able to leave her lips. "You know, maybe you should just talk to him."

Then, she just hurried away, leaving you by yourself. That was odd.

☆☆☆

"So, Y/L's pretty, isn't she?" a man asked, suddenly appearing next to Dae-ho, startling him. It was player 124 smirking at him, elbows leaning on his knees as he sat down. He had never talked to Dae-ho before, so he was confused for a fair reason.

"What?" Dae-ho mumbled. "I mean, um, sure."

He looked towards you, feeling butterflies in his stomach when he heard your laugh all the way to the spot he was sitting at.

"Do you think i'd have chance with her?" the player 124 asked. "You two are friends, right? Could you ask her what her type is?"

"Her type?" Dae-ho's eyes widened and there was a pitch in his voice. He couldn't watch another man to flirt with you, there was no way.

"Yeah. Like what kind of guy she is into?"

"Well, i don't know. She hasn't talked to me about it," Dae-ho nervously shrugged.

"Okay, so," he started and put his arm around Dae-ho, "you go and ask her and come to speak to me again after the next game, yes?"

"Um, i don't think that's a good idea."

"Come on, brother. Man to man. I'll owe you one," the player 124 winked and smacked Dae-ho's shoulder, then standing up.

When the guy, whose name Dae-ho wasn't sure of, had left, Dae-ho felt his heart burst. He couldn't watch another man make a move on you, it would absolutely kill him. Thankfully, the guy didn't rush immediately towards you, but to his own group which included Thanos, a few other guys and a girl. Dae-ho didn't know the girl's name, but why couldn't he try to hit on her instead, and not his Y/N?

His Y/N. You weren't exactly his either, but he didn't want to see you with anyone else except him. But of course that wouldn't happen if he didn't actually talk to you about it. He had started to feel possessive over you for no reason and he somehow managed to make himself mad without anyone else's effort.

Jun-hee was next to come and keep him company.

"So, she thinks you're mad at her," she said seriously.

"Mad? I'm not mad at her," Dae-ho insisted, confused, and straightened his back.

"Come on, you have to say something and stop avoiding her like that." Jun-hee took in a deep, frustrated breath when Dae-ho didn't know what to answer. "Why is it so hard to just be yourself around her?" Jun-hee asked, clearly frustrated with his attitude and behavior.

"I just," Dae-ho started but didn't find the words. "I don't know."

"Anyone with eyes can see that she's gorgeous and if you don't act soon, she's gonna be off the market."

With that said, Jun-hee got up and left him alone. Dae-ho knew she was right and he hated it. He could already see you running into player 124's arms if he didn't start doing something about this. And that image itself in his mind made him feel ill.

☆☆☆

The Mingle challenge started and Dae-ho knew he had to make sure that you weren't left alone at any point and be lost among the crowd, all freaking out and almost ripping each others' clothes off. When the carousel was slowly spinning and everyone stood still, Dae-ho stood right next to you, gently putting his hand on your wrist.

"Stick close to me, okay?" he said quietly and swallowed.

"I will," you answered with a smile that made Dae-ho automatically smile as well.

"Can i hold your hand?" Dae-ho asked, nervous for your reaction. "Just in case, you know."

You looked at him in the eyes with a warm gaze.

"Sure," you said and took his hand in yours, taking a tight grip with your fingers so he couldn't easily let go of you.

As the rounds went by, Dae-ho didn't let go of you even for a second until you had safely arrived inside one of the rooms and the door had been locked.

When it was time to find a room for two, Dae-ho immediately sprinted towards the rooms as fast as possible, trying to be one of the firsts to reach a free room.

After the door locked, he almost forgot to let go of your hand, finally relieved that the game must now be over.

"Dae-ho?" you said next to him.

"Oh, sorry," he stuttered and let go of you.

"You've been acting oddly, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, everything's fine," he assured you but by the tone of his voice he knew you weren't buying it either. This was it, he had to be direct with you right now or otherwise the player 124 would reach to you first. "Okay, fine. It's just, i get so nervous around you."

"Nervous?" you repeated. "What makes you nervous?"

"You," he whispered with a mere breath. "You, because i... i like you, Y/N."

"I like you too, Dae-ho," she said, confused. "I really struggle to see the problem."

"No, i mean i really like you," Dae-ho corrected himself. "Like more than anyone else here. A lot more. Like just, differently."

You narrowed your eyes, until let out a quick laugh, hiding it with your hand. Dae-ho was scared that he had just completely embarrassed himself.

"Dae-ho," you smirked and looked back into his eyes, speaking slowly. "Are you saying that you have a crush on me?"

His cheeks turned red. "Um, i suppose i am, yes."

"How long, hm?"

"Since the time you crashed on me on the first day probably," he admitted and looked away for a moment, but you put your hand on his cheek and made him look at you.

"Have you never liked a girl before, Dae-ho? What are you so afraid about?"

"Well, um-"

"That i wouldn't like you back?" you questioned.

"Probably, yeah," he stuttered.

"Well, i think you're really sweet," you started and took his hands in yours, now both of them. "And brave. Funny. Strong..."

"But?" Dae-ho asked, sure there was gonna be a turn in her words which made him feel hopeful.

"There's no 'but', silly," you said and playfully hit his shoulder. "I haven't known you long enough to get to the 'but' part."

Dae-ho looked at your hands tangled together, but you lifted his face up, finger on his chin.

"I like you too, Dae-ho," you said. "And i would like to get to know you better if you'd stop avoiding eye contact with me."

Dae-ho let out a relieved laugh.

"That's, well, good to hear," he said and swallowed, eyes moving between yours and your lips. Even though it was only a second, you noticed it and took his face in your hands.

You planted a soft kiss on his lips, not longer than couple of seconds. Almost right after that, the door unlocked itself.

"Nothing more romantic than bunch of people being slaughtered behind the door while we share our first kiss," you pointed out, both of you laughing.

"I hope there will be many more," Dae-ho whispered.

"There might, if you take me on a date."

"If we get out of here alive," he said.

"We will get out, have some hope," you insisted. "I'll take you to America too some day, if you want to."

"Really?"

"Of course."

You pressed another kiss on his cheek, until took his hand in yours and led him back to the rest of your group, relieved that all of them had survived.

Dae-ho couldn't stop smiling and could still feel the ghost of your lips on his cheek.

☆☆☆

A/N: If you've sent me a request, know that i'm working on them when i'm in the mood to write about that specific character, i'll try to update the existing fics too which have more parts coming up but it'll take a while 🫶🏻💙

[vad-hander]

MY SURGICAL SOULMATE

pairing: Johnny Suh x reader

genre: hospital!au, fluff, smut, some light angst, co-workers to lovers, Johnny is a doctor, y/n is a nurse, happy ending

warnings: language, sexual content (sex in a hospital, nipple play, unprotected penetration, thigh riding), mentions of surgeries and emergencies (nothing graphic)

words: 9k

synopsis: you have a perfect synergy with Johnny, whether it's you two matching each other professionally in OR or giving each other exactly what you need in bed. You click with each other in every aspect of your life and after one of your successful shifts together you realise you're ready to ask Johnny for the next step. Johnny's answer, though, flips around your outlook on the future of your relationship

______

You stepped into the hospital cafeteria, the scent of freshly brewed coffee immediately hitting your nose, mingling with the faint scent of antiseptic that seemed to always linger in the air anywhere you went within the building.

It was early morning, chatter of nurses and doctors filing the area despite the early hour, creating the backdrop for a very long shift ahead of you. As you entered, you spotted Johnny sitting at a corner table, a steaming cup of coffee in hand and a playful smirk on his face. He had already spotted you at the entrance, and by the look on his face he wanted you to join him.

“Hey there, early bird!” he called out, the teasing was palpable in the tone of his voice. He gestured for you to join him and you let him know with your gestures that you'll get the order and walk right to him. You ordered an iced americano, as you've already had your daily portion of wake-up coffee at home. Your eyes focused on Johny's cup of obviously hot beverage.

“Hey, sleep-deprived night owl,” you teased as you slid into the chair across from him. The warmth of his smile made your heart flutter in a non-colleague way. You shook the feeling away, taking a sip of the sweating drink in your hand. “Night shift?“

“Uh-huh, and about to rock through another one of those tonight. You?” he asked, sipping on a cup of just black coffee. Knowing Johnny, you were sure he asked for a quadruple shot of espresso or something like that to add to his drink. Johnny needed all the caffeine in the world after a night shift. You knew that like no one else did and more importantly you were absolutely on his side with that one.

“I got here 20 minutes ago. Night shift tonight, tho.” you added the second sentence with nonchalance so fake, you were actually embarrassed to look Johnny in the eyes for a second. You were sure he read through you already.

"Guess tonight won't be much of a torturous night, then.” both his brows raised as a suggestive smile adorned his face. You were supposed to keep your face straight. You even tried to force the corners of your lips downwards - it didn't help. You put your lips around the straw and looked at the table, leaving Johnny's words to hang in the air.

“Any important plans for today? Save a few lives? Go on a coffee run?” he asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes letting you know he didn't actually expect any response from you. His main goal was to make you smug, and he succeeded, ready to move on with his small talk.

You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee. “A bit of both, I think. And definitely saving you from another awful cup of cafeteria coffee. I'll make sure to get you Paik's during the break.”

“Oh, I kinda was developing a taste for this dark substance,” he replied, feigning pain in his chest. ”You're the best, tho. I'll appreciate that.”

You smiled, basking in the easy banter that danced between you. "I hope I'll be able to appreciate your payback also." you took it a small step further, sinking in his proud smile. Johnny always appreciated people that were able to match him - whether it was in the OR or at the cafeteria or in his bed. You had enough time to learn that and bring him occasional satisfaction with your comebacks in all the right situations.

As the sun beamed through the ceiling window, landing on the side of Johnny's face, your brain couldn't help but fantasize. Moments like these, when the Gods above or some other power allowed you two to just sit and chat, have a little break before surgery calls and emergency after another emergency come one after another, these moments of just the two of you felt like a precious gift for you.

You watched Johnny take a sip from his cup, not being able to stop yourself from imagining how mornings like this could be a very normal routine for you two. How coffee dates before shifts, your laughter in unison echoing against the walls of the hospital can be your norm. How instead of coming in separately, you could just get to the hospital in one car, walking around with your fingers intertwined, giving support to each other. Having lunches together, leaving for coffee breaks with your team, having Johnny on your side. Taking the scrubs off at the end of a long day and basking in each other's presence until you're ready to go back home and hold each other in your sleep. You envisioned weekends spent in cozy cafes, playful debates over which pastry was superior, lazy afternoons where you would curl up together with books, both of you lost in the words, but still making sure to give each other a little sweet touch.

But for now, this was all just a dream, a fantasy tucked away in the depths of your heart. You merely smiled as you enjoyed the present moment. You maybe were taking the slowest baby steps in history of baby steps towards this life, but given your insane schedules, you were moving with super speed. As long as Johnny found comfort in you - you were happy, because he was your comfort. For the past year he's been all that and more. Gentle, polite, understanding and caring. Love and all those relationship things, duh, they obviously lacked - but if he chose you every time for a whole damn year, it's pretty clear those things could also come. With time.

Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life, cutting through your reverie. “Attention all staff. Code Blue in the ICU. All available personnel, please report immediately.”

The lighthearted atmosphere shattered, replaced by the urgency that came with the call to action. You exchanged a glance with Johnny, both of you instantly shifting into work mode.

“Looks like we’re up,” he said, standing and offering you a hand. You grabbed onto it, as he pulled you to stand. As you wondered if he'd maybe planned to drag you by the hand, he let go and grabbed both his phone and wallet.

You also collected your belongings, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you rushed toward the ICU. The two of you moved around the hospital sharing glances as you navigated through the chaotic environment. You had spent countless hours together, and the unspoken understanding between you was palpable. You could anticipate each other's movements and were about to prove that on a patient. Every shared look and gesture felt like a language of its own as you worked in unison your magic. People in your ward knew that you were like a perfectly tuned mechanism when it was about an emergency, they found pleasure watching your duo get work done with high professionalism.

Johnny's fingers pressed against the elevator button about twenty times at once, you held your breath, only taking one in as the door finally opened.

As you arrived at the patient’s side, you fell into the rhythm of the urgency around you. Johnny getting you to work the second he got to the patients bed.

“Y/n, can you stabilise the airway?” Johnny asked, glancing over at you standing at the bedside. “We need to intubate immediately.”

“Yes, Dr. Suh. I’m on it.” you replied, your hands steady as you prepared the intubation kit, the familiarity of the routine comforting your brains in this chaos. More nurses ran into the ward, ready to provide immediate help. Nurse Kim forced passersby out of the ward, stopping people from peaking. Nurse Kang stood with panic in her eyes, moving her head at the exchange between you and Johnny.

“Make sure we have the suction ready,” Johnny instructed, his eyes never leaving the patient. “Their breathing is shallow, and we need to clear any obstructions fast.”

“Got it,” you said, your voice steady. You glanced at the monitor. “Heart rate is dropping—currently at 40 bpm.”

Johnny’s brow furrowed. "Grab an epinephrine syringe. We need to get the heart rate up.” Johnny addressed nurse Kang, Seulgi seemed to be affected by the emergency, not giving a reaction to what Johnny said. “Nurse Kang, prep the epinephrine!” he called out with a bark. She finally unfroze and rushed to get the adrenaline. Johnny seeing her in action turned his focus back to you. “Nurse Y/N, how's it going with the airway?” the tone of his voice got back to collected steadiness.

“I’m almost there, just a few more seconds,” you replied, your voice also steady, Johnny's presence and confidence in what you were doing gave you enough to stay calm. Seulgi was on her 6th month of work - if you were her, you'd probably also freeze at the sight. You made a mental note to comfort her afterward - Johnny wasn't a villain - he just wanted people on his team to put in work to save his patients.

“Make sure to keep the head tilted back and chin lifted. Let’s get the tube in hand,” he instructed, positioning himself near you - to assist if necessary.

With a deep breath, you inserted the laryngoscope, carefully visualizing the airway. “I have a clear view. Preparing to place the tube,” you said, your focus unwavering.

“Good work, now do it smoothly,” he coached, instinctively placing a hand on your shoulder for support. “Let's start with just one smooth motion” his fingers dropped from the shoulder down to your waist. You felt a wave of heat run over your body. Johnny didn't really make moves on you during work or generally in public. This felt weird and out of place despite making you all flushed. You shook his hand off before anyone noticed.

You shook his hand off because he was making your hands unsteady, and you weren't about to risk someone's life because of a man.

“Got it,” you affirmed, reassuring yourself as you advanced the tube into position. With a practiced motion, you secured it and connected the ventilator. “The tube is in place and confirmed. Starting ventilation.” you vocalised your actions like you were in the OR a very handy habit when you worked in a team.

“Excellent,” Johnny said, glancing at the monitors as they began to stabilize. “Ventilation settings are good—let’s keep an eye on those vitals. How are we looking?”

“Heart rate is rising—now at 60 bpm,” you reported, relief washing over your voice.

“Good!” Johnny instructed your colleague as you cleaned up the mess you made in a rush, not focusing on his instruction.

“Fluids are going in.” you announced.

Johnny nodded, pride evident in his tone. “We’re not done yet, Y/N. Prepare to move to surgery. They're not stable enough to hold here.”

You looked up at him, and the intensity in his gaze confused you. “Sure, Dr. Suh.”

“Okay, nurse Kang. Prepare the surgery room!” Johnny commanded. You realised he wasn't addressing you.

-

It was a long and intense surgery, but the two of you proved once again what it meant to be compatible colleagues, each of you knowing exactly what the other needed without having to say a word. It was in moments like these that you felt truly alive—adrenaline pumping blood in your chest, the connection deepening between you and Johnny with every passing moment.

When the surgery was over, you were dragged into another one right after you sat your butt down for a break. Right after your daily nurse routine you were once again in OR because quote - Johnny could only bare another surgery for the day with you in his OR. He was tired and mad over his previous surgery, he needed you for things to go smoothly. And you could never say no to that. You were a sucker for being needed by Johnny Suh.

So when that surgery was finally over, you felt a rush of relief wash over you. You stepped out into the quiet of the hallway, your shoulders unwinding as the tension lifted. You were finally, hopefully, free for the night. You found yourself back in the staff lounge, settling onto the well-loved couch in the corner of the room. You were hoping to have a calm rest of the night, just fall asleep and wake up in the morning, when you'll be dismissed to go on your merry way. But first, sleep.

“Insane day, huh?” Johnny quipped, leaning back against the couch, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. You've dreamed of moving somewhere calm for the past three years, but you had exactly the same face expression. You were exhausted, but you were happy with the work you've done today.

You chuckled, the exhaustion hanging in the air “Yeah, one more not that bad of a day in our ridiculous ward. You were great in OR,” you replied, warmth flooding your chest as you felt Johnny fold and rest his head in your lap. You touched his shoulder, your fingers running over his arm in a soothing motion, swallowing a gasp as your fingers trailed his bicep. It felt like saving people made his muscles grow bigger by night.

“Thanks, but what makes me look great is a good team. Today has proved once again I can only trust you in this hospital.” he said, his tone sincere, something lingered behind his eyes that made your heart flutter.

"Shush." you covered his mouth with your palm.

"Should I confess?" he moved your palm away, gripping onto your fingers and you gave him a barely-there nod. You were expecting some sort of banter out of his mouth. "My 48-hour shift kinda washed away by your magic touch. If you want to-." he sat up, changing his position so he'd sit facing you. Johnny's palm cupped your face, and as he caressed your lower lip with his thumb - all tiredness washed away from your body also. "I could close my payment for today's Paik's?" you opened your mouth to shoot some flirtiness back at him, but his thumb was in front of your mouth and you simply gave his finger a lick instead of an answer.

Johnny pulled you onto his lap within the same moment and smashed his mouth against yours. Fear of being interrupted either by another blue code or a colleague made your mouths move faster. As Johnny got you onto his lap, your mouths already were exploring each other's tongue. His fingers raised the scrubs up your body with a confident movement, he had no time and energy for teasing.

Johnny's focused gaze sent a flutter through your chest as his fingers danced across your breasts, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he approached your nipples with his tongue, bending his back in a ridiculous angle. His lips grazed your tender skin, fanning his breath over previously touched areas, making arousal drown your panties.

Johnny's mouth continuously send rushes of pleasure through your body, washing away post-OR tension. He knew damn well nipple play made your body relaxed, helped you to unwind and forget about blood and bruises you saw behind that door. Johnny made sure he could ease you down even in the shortest time he was given. Today and always.

His mouth was soft yet firm, knowing just how to coax pleasure from your body. Your nipples peaked under his touch, responding to his action. Johnny's tongue suddenly felt cold as blood rushed to your sensitive bud. As Johnny worked his mouth over your chest, your thighs subconciously rubbed against his. You felt the bulge in his pants grow heavier, making it harder for you to keep the pace and keep at least a small fracture of your brain sane. You felt like you could quite literally rub both of you to release.

Johnny whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Just relax, let me take care of you." You gripped onto his shoulder, you loved it so much when Johnny was caring for you like that. You loved so much how he paid attention to your bodies' response. You slowed down with your hips, allowing him to take the lead in your pleasure. Johnny sucked in your nipple, your nails gripping onto his nape. His tongue played with the swollen bud, while his lips were giving pleasurous pressure. You tilted your head backwards, enjoying the care Johnny was giving you.

You loved all the things he did to you and for you, but for a funny reason it never crossed your mind to tell him that out loud. Tell him you loved him taking care of you. You loved that he cared. You loved him. God, this was such a forbidden territory. And absolutely unrequited also. The only reason you held back in talking feelings, was Johnny's absolute indifference for such a topic. And also because you never before felt that determined to have him as your boyfriend.

Johnny's mouth moved in a slow, rhythmic pattern. The sensation was exquisite to you, and it took your breath away and made you think even more how you genuinely never let him know how you felt about him besides fucking. How you never told him that recently you were in extra good mood whenever you had a shift together. How him not replying to your messages was driving you insane. You only told him praises when he was balls deep inside of you. You told him how good he felt only when his tongue was drawing eights over your folds.

He never did that either, but in the very moment it felt like the most insane realisation - you and Johnny did not appreciate enough each other in your ordinary life. You felt an inching wish to change that inside of your heart now.

You tried to block in your head the fact you almost never communicated or met outside the hospital. By almost you actually meant never, because you were trying frantically to remember when you saw him last in his casual clothes outside hospital walls and the answer was nearing to a never. Maybe you just couldn't remember in the moment, your focus on Johnny present in front of you. His attention shifted to the other breast and it was hard for you to focus on anything. Your only focus were Johnny's lips, skimming across your skin, making you melt in him completely. It was as though he had put in effort into studying the intricacies of your body every time he saw you naked, you were convinced he mastered the delicate balance of pleasure and anticipation you enjoyed.

Johnny murmured, his voice low and husky. "Your body is incredible." You looked down at him, your eyes meeting.

Johnny smiled at you, licking into your mouth for a brief moment. His arm wrapped your waist, lifting you with just an arm to pull your pants down with the free one. Your arms were in his line of vision, trying to hold onto his face and lick into his mouth, while Johnny worked hard to return the kiss, but also tried to free himself from the material of his own pants.

As he was able to do so, you felt his cock spring up against your thigh. Your fingers wrapped around him blindly, your hand working him with just enough pressure to make it pleasurous for him. You smoothed pre-cum over his length, Johnny's mouth making a puffing sound as you squeezed your fingers around the tip. He didn't need your stimulation, he was hard and heavy in your grip as you continued.

You had no intention on stroking him for long, you needed Johnny inside of you immediately, rising to your knees and guiding him to your entrance. As you teasingly slid him against your wet folds, covering him in your juices, you almost lost balance at how good even that small action felt. Johnny gripped onto your waist, holding you in place as you continued to torture both of you.

You lined him up with yourself - letting go of him to wrap your arms around his neck and make your mouths also line up. Johnny moved his second arm to your waist - gripping onto you before you were ready to take him inside of you. Your mouth opened, you took your tongue out and licked Johnny's mouth, sinking down at the same time.

His arms immediately rearranged, helping you up and down his length in the pace that felt comfortable to kick off the intercourse. He did make you wrap around him pretty tightly with no stretching beforehand, but he was a little too obsessed with that feeling and you loved seeing his eyes roll back in pleasure. Johnny allowed for you to adjust, before he smashed you against him, as his patience wore thin and his wish of chasing his high overpowered everything else. Your mouths continued teasing each other, licking and sucking, adding up to the pleasure that was building where you connected.

Johnny's arm moved to your face, his fingers holding your face in place, as he lifted his hips up to meet you halfway, making sure he's able to watch your eyes roll to the back of your head with each thrust of his hips.

You came up with a rhythm, moving in unison, your hips making a motion towards him in circles, Johnny meeting you halfway with a nasty slap of skin on skin. His arms moved positions once again, gripping onto your butt cheeks. You knew he needed to make sure you were feeling all of him, he needed to fill you up completely, make sure that he angled you right, making sure that he was hitting your uterus.

"Fuck, Johnny." you moaned as he let go of your body, resulting in him nestling deep inside of you. You felt immediate pressure in your lower stomach, grabbing Johnny's now free hand before he began to move again. You pressed his palm over your pelvis, knowing for sure he could feel himself pressing inside you from here. The pressure in your stomach was borderline uncomfortable, but you would endure it for hours, knowing how badly it send Johnny into oblivion.

"Fuck." Johnny moaned, making a little move, keeping the hand accurately on the same spot. You lifted yourself up, sinking down in the same angle and feeling exactly the same pressure as before, Johnny's hand holding on to your abdomen to make sure he didn't imagine the feeling. You sure knew he didn't, he felt that handful of times, but every time his sex drive was through the roof after feeling himself squeezing down your organs. "Fuck." he repeated himself and moved.

"You're filling me up so good, Johnny, no one does it like you. You are so fucking perfect. God." you moaned in his ear. Your heart pacing like you needed to get in ICU.

_

Schedules worked in a funny way. It's been a week since the last time you've had a shift with Johnny and you missed him terribly. Right when you wanted to talk with him about your relationship and ew, feelings, you were separated. Almost like gods above told you to reconsider your decisions. But who were you to listen to advice.

The week helped you realise and reconsider - you needed to confess, you needed him to know, otherwise what was the point of this relationship? If Johnny wanted you in that way, he should be wanting you in other ways too. Or else, maybe you should annul the arrangement? The mere thought made your palms sweat. You had 7 very determined evenings to work out within your system whether you loved the man for sex or you loved the man because you loved him. You were certain it's not true love - but a very nearing experience at least. You had to if not confess - at least ask him about his feelings. Both of you have been virtuous in ignoring any and all sorts of conversation that would have you two making any sort of agreements and and any conclusions about this thing you were in. You were busy, Johnny, probably, even more so than you. There was no urgency to sit down and consider your feelings. Until the very recent week, obviously.

The day finally fell upon you. You clocked in, seeing Johnny's name two rows above yours as you filled in the needed paper work. You were back at the hospital for another night shift with Johnny. While the fact brought thrill down to your core, your feelings pressed heavier in your chest, washing away all excitement. You feigned confidence in front of a mirror in the elevator, but seeing his name so close to yours made it hard for you to swallow, drawing out scenarios of you bringing up the topic.

You weren't scared. You were purely nervous because you were either about to become a very happy taken woman or get your heart broken by the hottest man you've ever met. And being heartbroken at work wasn't on your list of to-do things for today. Or ever.

You glanced over at Johnny through the glass door, he was engrossed in a case file, the familiar warmth curling in your stomach despite the nerves. His handsome features focused and determined, as the patient continued their story, probably giving Dr. Suh details on their symptoms. You couldn't hear through the door. Johnny moved his gaze back on the patient, his head nodding rhythmically, while the nurse next to him wrote down a few things into the patient's file.

Johnny moved his eyes to the door - probably noticing a figure standing for a long while with no movement and wanting to shush them away. You raised your hand up, giving him a little wave as a hello. Johnny gave you a wink, his smile showing off his perfect teeth. As his eyes lowered back to the patient, the smile faded, his mind going back to work mode.

You bit onto your lip and walked away. Johnny wouldn't break your heart. He clearly has a thing for you, too. You convinced yourself, mood rising up with a click of your finger. Walking on that cloud of confidence, you felt like nothing could bring you down today. Not even those scheduled back to back surgeries.

“Been a little while since we had a shift together.“ Johnny bumped his shoulder with yours, giving you a little shock as he approached you from the back. "Thought you weren't big on the wending machine coffee?" he questioned your choice as you leaned to get the cup from the machine.

"Beggers can't be choosers." you took a sip and crinkled your face. "Nurse Kim had to leave early, something happened with her son at school, no one could cover for her. Automatically I had to take care of both her and mine patients. No time for a coffee run." you walked away from the machine with Johnny by your side.

His hand fell onto your shoulder, you raised your head to see his face - what was the intention behind that touch? There wasn't any, you could tell by his face. Just a neutral smile plastered on his face. "I seem to be quite free tonight. Want me to help with left patients? Or I could run to get you a coffee."

"Can't make a doctor do the nurses job." you couldn't even imagine Johnny putting drippers for patients. It's not like he can't, but you were sure chief of your ward would get you fired the same moment he sees Johnny do your job.

"Okay-" Johnny clearly wanted to suggest the coffee run.

"Also can't make a doctor run errands for me. Thank you, though." If he was the boyfriend, though-. You wouldn't mind him doing that.

"Think of this as me running for a coffee for myself. I also haven't had a good drink because of you." His lips made a little pout, and you couldn't hold back a thought how kissable those lips looked.

Your brains fogged and you agreed immediately. You can't say no to a Johnny that begged to take care of you. "If that's the case. I'll have an iced Americano. I'll transfer you the money, thanks."

Johnny's mouth got closer to your ear. "It's okay if you'll pay me back with the payment I usually make. You're on the night shift, right?" his brows raised in a playful manner.

"i am, but I also may be dead tired after tonight." you raised your brows matter of factly. You weren't sure you'd be able to give him anything tonight, if he won't ask for cuddles. And he won't ask for that.

"I'll ask for 5 shots of espresso, then, for your drink" you chuckled, Johnny letting go of you, speeding up to get the coffee. "Wait, did you also not have any lunch?" you shook your head a no. "What would you do without me?" he shook his head dissaprovingly and walked off, making your heart tremble.

"Are you the nurse?" an old lady asked you, taking you out of the trance.

"I am." you gave her a nod, the brows furrowing confused.

"My neighbour snores so loud I can't even-" you began to nod, walking the lady away from the corridor.

-

"Special delivery for the best nurse in this hospital!" Johnny announced, not even 30 minutes later. You were filling in some patients files, other personnel minding their business next to you, before Johnny's voice silenced all the other noises in the corridor.

"Who would that be?" Nurse Lee smirked, you wondered if she hoped that was her.

Johnny snorted, laying his palm firmly on your shoulder. "My surgical soulmate, obviously." You wondered if someone in the hospital had a clue about the nature of this relationship. Besides truly being totally compatible work-wise, of coruse.

"Thank you." you smiled, not paying much attention to the man. You were hoping he'll put the coffee cup next to you and leave. But he didn't and you had to actually raise your head to see. "What's that?" your brow furrowed.

"Special delivery?" he smiled teasingly. You wondered what was up with this sudden burst of friendly affection in public. Did he miss you? Did he also had a change of his heart and wanted you two to date?

"Yeah?" you nudged him to continue that sentence.

"You didn't get to have your lunch, I brought you lunch." he announced loud enough for the personnel surrounding you to hear that, also adding in a brow movement. I'm a very nice man, you see.

You clearly felt astonished. That did not sound like Johnny at all “You did?“

“Well. One more question and it's going back with me." he jerked back a little with a threat. You didn't feel like risking your food. You straightened your back and looked at him with polite eyes.

"Thank you, doctor Suh." you made up a smile and reached for the bag in his hold. With utter respect for the man in front of you, you reached with both your hands firmly, adding a little bow as you expected him to let go of the bag and let you finish work in peace. You had to make sure people noticed the two of you being strictly professional, surgical soulmates. And surgical being the main word, underlined three times.

Johnny pulled the bag closer to himself and made you unsteady on your feet. "Nuh-uh. I have a feeling you won't take off to eat right this second and the food needs to be eaten right now."

"What's in there?" You let go of the bag completely.

"Come with me, I'll let you see." Johnny gifted you a smirk and you flushed. Your eyes ran over the room, people already losing their peak interest in this conversation and carrying on with their duties. Good, because if you were reading between the lines correctly, Johnny was suggesting sex. Even before the sun set? He can't be serious.

You voiced out your concern "Huh?" you cackled flabbergasted.

"Come." Johnny gestured and grabbed your elbow, walking you somewhere else. His office, you later worked out. Johnny locked the door and you started to doubt even more, whether or not he wanted to make sure you ate at all.

Johnny walked over to the table, placing the bag there. As he walked out of the way you also noticed the promised coffee cup.

"You could've just texted that the coffee's at your office."

"And would've waited for you to take it for hours. I needed to summon you right now." Johnny talked with his back to you, until he plopped on the couch, spreading his legs in an unmannered way and looking at you. Was he inviting you?

"For sex?" you asked straightforward. You had no time to tip-toe around the topic. Johnny made a low giggle like you were the most ridiculous person he knew.

"Jesus, for food. I brought you dongaseu, you definitely have to eat it now before it gets soggy." he had a point.

But also, how the fuck did he know you liked dongaseu? "How did you pick what to get?" you asked, walking closer to his table. Your fingers quickly undoing the knot on the bag to dig in.

"You had it maybe 80% of the times we had lunch at the cafeteria?"

"I did?" you looked at his face. If he cared to remember something like that, he'd probably considered you as someone he cared for. If you were someone he cared for, didn't that mean asking him for a next step was a given? Doesn't that mean that maybe now, is the perfect timing?

You sat down, taking food out of the bag and opening boxes. You took a sip of your coffee to have a little energy burst and looked at Johnny who leaned his head against the wall, dozing off into the ceiling.

"I wanted to talk with you." you started off from afar.

"Yeah?" Johnny focused his eyes on you, the tone of his voice soft.

"You know, how w-." a knock on the door interrupted your words. The handle shook a few times from behind that door.

"Doctor Suh?" one more knock. Johnny quickly moved over to the door, unlocking it and blocking the view of who the person was. "The patient, we admitted him today in ward 23?"

"Yeah?" the tone of his voice completely different to the way he asked you.

"He asks for your immediate presence." you could hear the panic in the nurses' voice.

"What happened?" Johnny was unmoved by her stress. Collected and even a little annoyed, you'd say.

"I don't know, he doesn't tell us. He asks for you, he seems out of his mind?" you pressed your nails into your palm to keep your mouth shut. You really had a wish to step in and help. If you would've brought a doctor every time a patient threw a tantrum, you would've been jobless by now.

"Can’t you deal with a patient yourself?" the woman stuttered in reply, Johnny sighed. "I'm coming in a second." he turned back at you, but didn't say a thing, looking back out the door. "You can go. I said I'll come in a second."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Thank you." she bowed out and disappeared.

"Shit." Johnny cursed under his breath, looking at you. You probably looked disturbed, you were ready to drop the food and be of help with your entire being. "I'll come back, just wait for me here, okay?"

"It's okay. I'll come another t-."

"No, hold on to that conversation. I'll return." You swallowed a smile, giving him a nod. "Lock yourself from the inside, just in case anyone wants to bother your lunch." you nodded once again, locking the door a moment after Johnny left the room.

You quickly finished off your meal, sipping on coffee, your back resting against the couch. You weren't big on sleeping during day time even with your hectic schedule but the couch at Johnny's office always had that special power of lulling you. You rested your head on the headrest and maybe you could blame food coma for this, maybe it was just your tired body - you closed your eyes and fell into a sweet dream. Your mind took to your -you hoped- nearest future. You hanging out on this very couch when you had some time for a break. Your body wrapped in Johnny's hold, his fingers caressing your shoulder blade while you take in comfort and steadiness of each other. Your personal little hide out from all that craziness behind the door. You could dream of that for at least an eternity. Knocks on the door took you out of slumber. You dropped your feet back on the floor, focusing on the noise behind that door - if someone else was looking once again for Johnny, or it was him that returned to you.

Knocking repeated, in a comforting thumping of Johnny's fingers, you were sure by now it was him. You quickly unlocked the door, peeking through.

Johnny swept you off your feet - quite literally. He stormed into his office, not forgetting to lock the door behind himself. As you tried to give him space, his arms scooped you in his hold, lifting you up and crossing the room back to the couch. He sat down and sat you on his lap all within a moment.

"Wha-?" you gasped as Johnny's fingers sneaked under you scrubs and held your naked ass. "The sun has not even set, Doctor Suh." you teased, your palms finding their place on Johnny's chest.

"Got scheduled an emergency surgery tonight at nine. Won't be done for at least five hours." his fingers pushed on your skin, forcing your core to slide up his thighs.

"You're not asking me to do the surgery with you?" you pouted, moving your arms to Johnny's neck, to get your faces closer.

"I can't. You said you've already worked for two people."

You cooed, leaning into him. "Why are you so caring? Don't tell me you have feelings for me." you teased, making it painful for yourself. If he'd reply with yes, I do, he'd make your life so much easier. You'll just have to tell him 'I do too' and let him sweep you in a passionate kiss. Your heart trembled a little, as you were expecting an answer.

Johnny closed the gap between your mouths and kissed you. You kissed him back, expecting him to pull back any moment and give you an answer. He didn't.

His fingers traveled up your back, lifting your clothes and searching new skin available with his mouth. Your hips moved a tad bit forward, feeling Johnny getting harder under you.

Johnny's tongue flicked your nipple "You wanted to talk." he suddenly remembered, straightening his back and looking you dead in the eyes, your clothes falling back to cover you.

You were in no mood to talk about your feelings now, when his hard cock was giving pressure to your not any less turned on cunt. You really didn't want to ruin the mood. "Now's not the time." you chuckled, crawling your fingers over his nape.

"Why?" Johnny's fingers kneaded your ass once again.

"I can't keep my train of thought when I'm this close to your cock." you kissed his mouth, hoping the conversation's over.

Johnny pulled you back, his arms peeling yours off of his nape. "My curiosity makes my dick soft. Just tell me." he actually had the audacity to push you off his lap, forcing you to sit next to him on the couch. If only he knew that your next words could possibly turn him off of you for forever. "Is it the hospital?" he asked carefully, seeing you shuffle with your fingers over your lap.

You were desperately coming up with a topic that would not divide your life to a before and after. Nothing was coming to your brain in this forced down from a high panic. "No."

"It's personal, then? Did something happen?" Johnny turned to face you, his knee bumping with your thigh as he moved around. "You can tell, I'll do my best to help you." your eyes finally met his comforting stare. Johnny read your face expression too well, he mirrored your level of worry in concern. His fingers even found yours for support and you wondered if he imagined something terrible have happened like one of your family members died or something worse.

It was, probably, worse. You wanted to know if you had a chance to become his significant other. You wondered if he wanted you besides the sex when your nightshifts matched. "It is, personal. But it's not something bad."

"Okay? You can tell me." he squeezed your palm in his hold. But you were confident it's better to lose any and all physical contact with Johnny to be able to have that conversation.

You moved your body a little further from him, being nervous to an extent where you stood up and turned away from his stare. This way you could imagine you were pacticing this conversation to the wall and not to the very alive and very real Johnny behind you. "Ugh-." you swallowed. "it's about you and I." you sighed and closed your eyes. "We've been seeing each other like this for over a year. Recently, I've found myself needing more. I need more of you, Johnny." you turned around, startled immediately as the man you talked to got in front of you. “I can’t keep doing this—whatever this is between us. It’s more than casual now, and I believe we should be brutally honest with each other. I can’t preten otherwise.” you said, trying your hardest to keep your tone steady.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he replied, surprise coursing through his voice, but it was quickly overshadowed by something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“I do. But I feel like it's so complicated. This… whatever we have—there’s so much more at play here than we like to pretend. I realised I feel so much for you, and I can’t keep doing this not knowing if there’s a chance for a future. Something more for you and me.” The admission hung heavily in the air, your heart racing.

He took a moment to respond, his expression shifting. “Y/N, you know I care about you a lot." you had a feeling a but was approaching you. Your heart shuttered before the 'b' left his mouth "but I can’t provide a healthy relationship. My schedule is fucking insane. I can't provide myself with enough sleep, I can't promise you a relationship off the bat. Dating while being a surgeon in emergency ward is an insane job.”

"And I'm not worth of putting in work?" you took a step back. The question was stupid. It wasn't the question you wanted to ask, you wanted to tell him no relationship can be perfect right off the bat. It needed work and you were willing to do that for him. You'd meet him halfway. But instead of all that you spat venom and shut down.

Disappointment flooded through you as you laced your fingers together. You took a deep breath, not being able to hide away your disappointment or the way you wanted to leave the room. This here really didn't go the way you wanted it to. Your heart was working hard to keep pumping blood, to keep you steady on your feet and keep you reasonable. Though it clearly failed with the last part already. You were two adults talking about a casual relationship - you had to keep yourself collected and coldblooded. At least Johnny seemed pretty casual about the conversation. "Jesus, this is absolutely not what I meant. I didn't know you wanted a boyfriend, I never gave you a reason to think of me like that. I thought we were on the same page here."

"I see." you swallowed. It was too hard to keep yourself straight. Your heart was crumbling, your feet giving up on you. Your head? It was just dizzier by a second and you wondered when will Johnny dismiss you. He very much put a full stop to everything that was happening between you before. You just needed to say your goodbyes and take off.

His gaze hardened slightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t change everything just like that. We’re still young, if you suddenly want to settle, you deserve something better than what I can give you with a job like that.” it stung. His words stung like a bitch and you found it hard to hold back your sobs. You still, though, held them in like a champ.

Despite that, you felt your heart shatter at his words, each syllable landing like a crushing blow. “So, you’re telling me I should just walk away?” you replied, voice trembling, stretching your resolve to the breaking point.

“I'm saying if you suddenly think about your future, you should put a full stop to this and look for someone else. Someone, who can give you their all.” Johnny said, but he didn’t look or sound convincing enough, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. You couldn't understand why would he drop the most important part - you didn't want any boyfriend - you wanted Johnny as the boyfriend.

A wave of frustration rose inside you, and without thinking, you blurted, “You are so fucking right, I can’t waste my youth on this. I can't waste my youth on you. This feels … empty. You're fucking heartless, I should've guessed that by now. A man that sees so much misery and death for a job can't have a heart.” your eyes closed automatically, holding in tears that were treacherously trying to flood your face.

You turned away, the wound opened wider as you did so, the weight of your words crashing down.

Johnny didn’t respond, and within the silence, you forced yourself to step back into the reality of your relationship. You backed away, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t do this,” you said quietly, shaking your head. Your eyes trained on the door, your feet already taking you towards it.

“Y/N, please don’t go,” Johnny pleaded, trying to reach out to you. He just told you to go away, and he's already asking you to stay. You felt sick.

"I'm sorry, Johnny, I'm sorry I brought this up. It's better to rip off the band-aid early." even though you didn't rip it off early, it's been a long fucking while of you two living on different planets. You turned and fled from the room.

You rushed through the hallways, every step echoing the finality of everything that had just been said, guilt and regret overwhelming you. You felt his presence behind you, calling out your name, but you weren't sure you weren't hallucinating. Maybe it was just another episode of your wishful thinking. You needed to escape, to reclaim your heart, but you had no chance to do so. You had to stay at the hospital, mere meters away from the man you despised, despite loving so much.

In this moment of pain and clarity, you knew you had to take control of your choices. You could no longer linger in a world where everything felt uncertain. You had to prioritize yourself first, even if it meant leaving what you once cherished behind. Even if it meant avoiding Johny from now on, losing your surgical soulmate. Losing the only reason work never felt too shitty.

As you disappeared into the hospital, going around to check on your patients the weight of heartache sat heavy in your chest. It was a little difficult paving your future and avoiding Johnny. Avoiding him at all costs, begging your friends to switch shifts with you. Trying to avoid him as much as possible when you still ended up in the hospital on the same shift.

You were thankful Johnny gave you space, you felt appreciative when he asked for a different nurse for his surgeries. You felt great even, when those nurses would come out of the surgeries all frustrated with his behaviour. He was always strict and dissatisfied with their way of working. It stroked your ego. Not once did he bad mouth you during the surgery.

Even if you didn't mean a thing to him in that way, he suffered surgery-wise and it made you feel better.

He deserved to feel that.

Rejection stung like a bitch. Even a month later.

-

You were so perfect at avoiding Johnny that at one point you relaxed and rolled with the flow. And that was very much a crucial mistake. "Hey, Y/n? Can I have you for a word?" Johnny's voice sounded like a thunderbolt in the clear sky as you passed down the hospital corridor. You felt confused and then realised you forgot to check who from the surgeon personnel was assigned for today.

You faced him, feigning ignorance. "What is it?" Johnny instead of a reply pushed a piece of paper in your hands. You gave it a look. It was a vacancy in a hospital on the other side of the city for the nurse position. Your first immediate thought made you choke on air.

Did he want you to change your job - what a fucking bastard, you chocked on air once again at the audacity. You almost smashed your palm with the piece of paper against his chest. If he was uncomfortable it's on him to change jobs, not forcing you to give him what he wanted.

"It's a job in planned surgery ward. No emergencies, 9 to 5 on weekdays, free weekend. Well, emergencies do happen, but they're more of once in a blue moon situation. Nothing compared to here." he quickly explained, as your eyes searched the paper with confusion.

"Why?" You asked with a scoff. You wanted to hear the words come out of him and itched to slap him.

"I had an interview there, they're giving me a job offer. I said I'll think about it." Your heart broke in pieces instead. He didn't want you to leave. It was him who was leaving. Not seeing Johnny at work everyday will take a toll on your life. Even though you avoided him for a whole month, it still gave you mental strength knowing you shared a job. You still loved him, despite calling it quits. You blinked multiple times at him to process.

You couldn't work out why exactly did he show off his new hospital to you. Go on your fucking merry way then, coward. You really wanted to tell him just that. If he wanted to see a reaction - you would not give him the pleasure. "Ah-. Why are you letting me know? Congra-" you stuttered, though, not being able to talk properly. It suddenly hit you. Nurse position? He clearly didn't get a job offer for a nurse position.

"I told them that giving my girlfriend a job with me could be a breaking point for my decision." his eyes raised suggestively, you couldn't understand what he was doing. Did he really want to destroy you mentally on his last day here?

"You have a girlfriend now?" you blinked to not cry. You didn't mean to ask it out loud, but since it already came out - you said fuck it. This was officially the worst day in your life. And Doctor Johnny Suh was officially the most cruel man on earth.

Johnny smiled at you, giving you a soft chuckle. "I don't know yet. Her brain seems to be not working this morning."

"What?" you asked confused and then suddenly gasped and closed your mouth with both your hands, letting the piece of paper fall. Johnny bent to get it up for you.

The nurse vacancy in your hands, the hospital move and the girlfriend proposal all hung above your head in a moment. He wanted you to be his fucking girlfriend. Wanted you to move jobs with him. Completely out of the blue decision. Didn't he say he didn't like you in that way? Or you imagined the conversation?

"You let me know pretty clearly you didn't reciprocate the feelings-."

Johnny took a step towards you "I was looking for ways to make some time for you, after what you told me. I haven't been able to sleep properly since then, I realised I needed you more than I imagined. This month completely ruined me, I just wished I could have you back by my side under the title you'd be happy to. I found this job so I could make time for you. I will have actual time to put in work for us. Night shifts are still a thing, especially for nurses. But I will not be in surgery as much, this ward only do them planned. I could pick you up and take you home and spend all the possible time in the world with you, adjusting to your shifts. I realised that I wanted this too. I want you too. I like you too, I want your presence in my life more than it's possible to imagine. More than I imagined I could feel and want." Johnny touched your elbow, so you'd give him a reaction. He caught you after a night shift - you were exhausted and now overwhelmed too. You were so confused as to what was happening, but at the same time so certain you'll go anywhere if that meant being with Johnny. If he wanted you as much as you wanted to go with him. "Ah, you're crying? You're my backbone. How are you crying?" Johnny hugged you, giving your temple a little kiss. You crushed under his touch, breaking down completely and wrapping your arms over his waist.

"Johnny, do you understand that I've loved you for some time now, and I thought I've lost you completely." you sobbed into his chest.

"I know, sunshine. I did think I lost you forever too. I'll never let us be separated ever again, okay?" he gave you a moment to collect yourself. You were overwhelmed with how being sure that you two were done turned into this. "I'll give them a call then, will tell them we're ready to start working when they are ready to take us. Right?" Johnny pulled you back a little, looking at your face and capturing your lips with his as you gave him a nod.

don't forget to like and follow for more <3

[whatifitis]

♡ i wish you would've stayed - LN 4 ♡

Summary: you and lando had a fling and things end but did he lie? he found someone new when he said he wasn't ready.

WC: 2636

CW: angst, very small mention of weight loss, overuse of song lyrics, use of quotes i found on tiktok

How can it be that everytime someone says they aren’t ready for a relationship with you, they always end up ready for the girl after? 

You and Lando had been friends for a couple of months before you ended up developing feelings for him. Like, who wouldn’t fall for him? He’s funny, cute, and charming. You guys would talk for hours on end. Everytime you two would find something in common, it felt like the invisible string between the two of you was real. Maybe all these things were signs that you had finally met your person. 

When you were able to talk to him, it felt like everything was okay. When it felt like no one wanted you around, he did. It didn’t matter if you just had a hellish day or not, he was always able to bring you back to joy and contentness in a second. He showed you how it felt to be loved, for the first time in your life. 

When you’d confessed to him about your feelings for him, he’d said he liked you as well. You remember nearly bursting into tears as giddiness swirled in your chest. This was the first time your feelings had been well received, and it was someone who you had really grown fond of. He didn’t want to be anything yet so as to not feel pressured so early in this relationship and you understood, you were fine with it. The two of you often joked about what to call your situation as neither of you liked the term ‘situationship’ and ‘casual’ definitely wasn’t it. It was just two people who really liked each other and wanted to see how things went.

Everyday, the two of you spoke for hours at a time and it was fun. You’d shared music with each other and you’d actually grown to enjoy music from his favorite artist. When you asked him to make a playlist of all his favorite songs by the artist, he was genuinely so excited and got to work instantly. You loved seeing him so happy and you’re glad it was because of you, selfishly so. When he’d sent you the playlist, he’d named it one of the verses from a song that you had sort of dedicated to him. You really fell hard for him. 

Even though it had just been a month or so, you were excited to picture a life with him. The two of you had even planned out your future home together. The colors of the walls of every room had already been picked out and it was the happiest you had been in a long time. 

“We’re gonna have a house by the beach, yeah? And we’re gonna have a dog that’s practically our baby. And we’re gonna name it ‘Lando’.”

“Lan, why are we naming it after you?” you softly laughed. 

“Well, when I was a kid, my family had gotten a dog and it was my job to name it. As the uncreative child I was, I named it after the best thing ever. Myself.” he smiled cheekily.

“No way. Oh my god.” you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Hold on. I’m not done painting the scene.”

“Alright, apologies, my love. Please continue.” 

“So our dog, Lando, will lie in the sheets with us. The sun will always shine and there will be a ring on your hand. On your ring finger specifically. And I’ll hold you every night.”

But he lied. He made a promise he could never keep. He tried and tried until he couldn’t. 

As time went by, his texts began to slow down. But you weren’t upset. When the two of you began this whirlwind of a relationship, he’d mentioned how with work and his mental health, he’d often go days without having the energy to talk to anyone. You understood, you’d been there before, you told him as long as he would talk to you whenever he was able, that you were going to be okay. And you were. Your days would go by where you wouldn’t get a text from him and it was okay. You were productive during the days and while you did miss him, you knew his struggles and you let him be with the occasional messages to check on him. 

Then one Thursday in the fall, your world came crashing down. You sort of knew it was coming. There were signs that you chose to ignore, hoping it wasn’t true. But then you got the text “I don’t think we should talk anymore.” You really tried to understand. He said he felt guilty for dragging you along and that he didn’t want to keep doing it to you. He said he was tired and he wasn’t able to maintain a relationship of any sort. So you said ok. That was the last time the two of you spoke. 

For weeks, you cried over this loss. It wasn’t just about essentially getting dumped. To you, he was your best friend and you lost him. That was the worst part. Not the fact that you didn’t have anyone to love anymore. Not that he just up and left. It was the fact that he was your friend before everything and you don’t have any part of him now. 

You knew you had some fault in the ending though. You’d said things that weren’t the right things to say at the time. You had messed up often. You just wish you could take those back though. You wish you could’ve said something different. Then maybe he’d still be yours. 

You told your friends what happened and it’s safe to say they all dislike him now. After everything, they started stating their opinions and talked shit about him but it didn’t help. You didn’t hate him, although you should have. You wished you could hate him and be angry, but you’re not. You’re just sad. 

Everything reminds you of him. Every song is about him. Every poem is about him. Every book is about him. The blue in the water is him. The sun shining through your window is him. His face is everywhere. His voice is everywhere. His laugh is everywhere. The laugh you thought you would get to listen to for forever, is now a stranger. 

You would find yourself still imagining things with him after the end of everything. You’d think of him in the stupidest things. You’d think of him while in the shower, how it’d be nice to have your things with his sitting along the edge of the tub. You would even imagine running out of soap so you would end up using his. You would go to work and the store wearing it. Only when in the night, when you would lay next to him in bed, would you smell where all your missing soap had gone. 

It was those stupid little things that made the healing process so much harder. 

He forgot you overnight. Meanwhile you lost your head and appetite. You ate a lot like a fly. Your anxiety had also gotten worse, making your heart race every second of the day. You thought of giving up everything. It was a dramatic thing to consider considering you couldn’t even classify what happened as a breakup, as he was never yours. 

After some time, the tears stopped. The heartbreak didn’t, but you were able to continue with your life and get through some days. Every so often, you still check on him through social media, just to make sure he’s okay. Of course, that came back to bite you in the ass when you found out he was talking to someone. 

The day you found it, your heart dropped and it felt like that Thursday all over again. All that healing had gone out the window because now everything feels like a lie. Was he making fun of you with some esoteric joke? 

He said he wasn’t ready for a relationship, that he couldn’t maintain any relationship. He said he cared about you. You believed it. You were stupid to believe it. A fool for thinking any of it was real. The house, the songs, every little thing was a lie. All you ever thought about was there the hell he was and if he was okay but he didn’t give two shits about you. There was never a you and him. And there never would be. 

You go back and forth between being angry and sad. You can’t tell if you’re making everything up in your head whether it was your relationship with him or the events after. 

Every page you wrote, he was on it. Every word you wish you could say to him. 

After letting you sulk for a few months, your friends dragged you out of the house so you could all go to a club and just have fun. There was no pressure to meet someone or walk away with someone. They said that all you owed them was to show up and have fun. So you went. 

The night was beautiful at first. After pregaming a bit, you ordered yourself a drink at the club and just let loose with your girls. Dancing the night away and not caring about tomorrow. All that mattered was right now. 

You could feel arms moving around you, your heart beating to the music, the alcohol working its magic through your system. You were glad to be there with your favorite people, when everything felt like it was falling away, you still had them. 

It was truly an amazing night until there were whispers spread across the room. Lando was there, with his new girl. The two walked hand in hand towards the back corner of the club with their group. 

What the fuck was he doing here? He could be anywhere in the world, why is he here? 

You didn’t know what to do. For the longest time, you’d imagined what you would do if you were to be in the same room as him again. You composed a hundred ways to tell him the reasons why you could’ve played for keeps, all of which would sit collecting dust, rotting in your house. 

You watched as they settled into the rhythm of the club, when Lando looked straight at you. He looked different. He looked lighter. 

Your friends caught this moment and immediately grabbed you and tried to get you to ignore them. They wanted you to show Lando that you’re better off without him, that you’re okay. So you tried. You tried to keep dancing, to keep your heavy feet moving, to act as if your heart wasn’t being dragged through you. 

You needed a minute. Telling one of your friends you were going to the restroom, you pushed through the crowd. Squeezing through a mess of entangled, sweaty bodies. You kept pushing until you found yourself on a balcony, trying to catch your breath. You moved to a more secluded spot so you could try and recuperate. 

Resting your arms on the railings, you lowered your head to try and figure out what to do. Did you want to confront him, ask for closure? Or did you just want to let it go and try to be free? 

You were caught up in your head when you heard someone clearing their throat somewhere behind you. Looking up, you were met with those hazel green eyes that you had fallen for all those months ago. 

“Hey,” Lando started “didn’t know you were here. Small world, eh?”

“Yeah. Crazy.”

“Come on. Why you being short with me?”

“Nothing. So, uh. Who’s the girl?”

“Oh, yeah. Hannah is my girlfriend. She’s pretty great.”

“Good for you. I’m glad you found someone who can love you the way you deserve. We all need someone to hold and now you found your person.” “Thanks. She helps me a lot and she knows how it feels to be alone in the rain. I guess I just needed someone to stay.” he shrugged, smiling at you. He wasn’t trying to be malicious, he was just happy that he’d found his love.

I stayed. 

“She seems great. I’m happy for you.”

Please, keep me close. 

“Yeah. You’ll find someone too. I’m sure you will.” Couldn’t you love me most?

“Yeah. Sure.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, savoring the silence for different reasons. You knew this was gonna be the end of your story with him. This was going to be the last time you would see him. He thought it was great that everything could remain civil. 

“Well, I gotta go back in.” he said, pointing behind him towards the dance floor, “I’ll see you around. Take care.”

“You too!” you shouted back before he disappeared into the blinking lights and mess of music. 

At the end of the day, you’re hopeless. He found someone better. He found someone to love. Someone to love him. 

So here you sit in the bedroom of your apartment, just missing him and wishing things were different. And you can wish all that you want, but it won’t bring you two together. No matter the things he said or did, you still loved him. 

After all this time, you would still bend back to him if he left the door open. All he had to do was say the words, and you’d play again. But who were you to ask for more? You were just a little chapter in his story while he was more to you. 

If he needed someone, he could’ve picked you. You would’ve given him everything. All he had to do was ask. And you know that can’t solve everything. You just wish he chose you. For once, you wish you had been chosen. You wish he had chosen to love you. You wish he chose you even if it was just to toy with you for longer. 

You still can’t hate him. You honestly wish the best for him. You want him to be happy, even if it means it’s not with you. You want him to have the life he’s dreamed of, with the walls of his house painted blue, red and pink. You hope he gets to go to the city his favorite artist was born in and have a drink at the bar they used to perform at. You hope he’s okay. 

You now know, you’re just not that girl. It was your own fault for not being good enough. She won him, the girl with the gold hair. That’s the girl he chose. So one day, when he walks down the aisle to complete his great love story, you hope he remembers that you’re glad to see him win. You can’t claim to be on the side of love if you can’t even support it in someone you love. It’s not fair to him. 

Your birthday falls on the 29th night of December and you stand in the middle of your kitchen surrounded by your family who say they love you. A birthday cake sits in front of you, coffee flavored, a flavor you never liked. Everyone sings you a happy birthday as you stand there, not letting the tears fall from your face. No one can see the ache in your heart and the way it feels like it’s being dragged down your body. So you just smile. 

You close your eyes to make a wish, but no wish appears as you blow out the candles, just the thought ‘Only three more days left living in a year where you loved me. Only a few more days left in a year where I've allowed myself to love you knowing you don’t’.

Wishing only wounds the heart, after all.

[tfalpha88]

New reality part 1

In the high-tech laboratories of the Duval pharmaceutical group, excitement was in the air. After months of research, Philippe, a talented young scientist, had just developed a first prototype of a drug designed to enhance athletic performance. Curious about the results, the CEO himself, Mr. Duval, came down to discuss it with him.

- Well, Philippe, how is that famous sample coming along? Are the initial results living up to our expectations?”

- Yes, Mr. Duval. The formula looks very promising. Preliminary tests show a significant improvement in endurance and muscle strength. So far, no major side effects have been observed.”

- Excellent work. Keep going. This product could truly revolutionize our industry… and our market share.”

In the quiet of the lab, Philippe continued his trials. Focused, he carefully analyzed the red solution he had just synthesized. The goal was clear: to stabilize the formula and create a solid version, easier to use and more effective. But for now, the product remained too unstable. Philippe stayed cautious: he still didn’t know what side effects might occur.

While handling the sample, Philippe accidentally dropped it. The flask shattered on the table. Within seconds, the liquid reacted violently with the air, turning into a thick cloud of red smoke. Panicked, Philippe stumbled backward, horrified by what was unfolding before him.

Within seconds, the entire laboratory was engulfed in a dense red fog. The air became heavy, saturated with a strange scent — a mix of locker room sweat and gym odor. Philippe, frozen in panic, tried to comprehend what had just happened.

Suddenly, a violent pain struck Philippe’s stomach, as though his intestines were being crushed from the inside. The acrid, nauseating smell grew unbearable. Clutching his abdomen, he had no idea what was happening to him.

The pain became unbearable. Bent double, Philippe suddenly felt a thick red smoke burst from his mouth. In a panic, he couldn’t grasp what was happening. Memories came flooding back: a childhood marked by loneliness, teased by classmates for his shyness, distant parents who didn’t understand him. A brilliant student, he had found refuge in his studies, eventually being recruited by the Duval pharmaceutical group. But in his personal life, Philippe had remained a loner — few friends, one short-lived relationship… Even now, he never quite knew how to connect with others.

The memories kept shifting… something was changing. New images began replacing the old ones: yes, he had been a lonely child, but during adolescence, he had chosen to turn that loneliness into strength. He had started bodybuilding, seeking acceptance — from others and from himself. He could no longer stand the sight of his weak, frail body in the mirror. Though no longer top of his class, he had graduated and been recruited by Duval.

As these new memories rewrote his story, a new reality took hold: his body was transforming, muscles growing, his shape evolving. Philippe, confused, could no longer tell what was real and what was not.

Philippe’s memories — and reality — kept shifting. He now remembered always having been intelligent and popular. Arrogant and vain, he had embraced bodybuilding to sculpt the perfect physique — one he admired in other men, as women had never interested him.

His grades, though average despite his high IQ, had never mattered much next to his passion for sport. He had pursued a career in research to develop products that would push the body’s limits. The Duval group had hired him not for his grades, but for his charisma and ambition.

As these memories took root, his body kept changing: his muscles swelled, every fiber reshaped, reinforcing this new version of himself. Philippe could no longer tell what was real and what was imagined.

Philippe’s reality kept rewriting itself. He had never been particularly bright — academics were never for him. Sport was his world. Arrogant, self-absorbed, he had built a dream body, overflowing with testosterone. Proud of his sexuality, he was 100% gay and obsessed with the perfect, muscular male form.

One day, determined to create his own line of energy drinks for athletes, he had ended up in the Duval group’s laboratories. Now, as his body continued to transform, his clothes changed too, morphing into tight gym wear — the perfect reflection of who he truly was.

The transformation was complete. Now, it was as if the old Philippe had never existed. Only this new reality remained: a confident man, proud of his sculpted physique. He loved showing off his muscles — every pose a display of power and masculinity.

To be continued…