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writingsbychlo · 11 months ago

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BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy

summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.

word count; 8928

notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?

Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction.

Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat.

“Good day?”

“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”

“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations.

A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”

Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.”

He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there.

“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.

“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?”

The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official.

You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment.

It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games.

Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”

Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time.

Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either.

“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”

Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”

“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics.

You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.

“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side.

“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised.

The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you.

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”

The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.

The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over.

You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.

“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”

“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you.

A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.

Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.

The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room.

Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests.

Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled.

The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one.

You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it.

“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.”

She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately.

“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had.

“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of.

He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white.

You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness.

“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her.

“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”

Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you.

Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;

“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”

Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you.

“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return.

“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye.

“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go.

“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath.

“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”

He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.

The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you.

He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.

Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass.

He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course.

As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate.

Men did love a little attention, after all.

Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.

You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.

“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.

As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”

“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down.

“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar.

“It is, I think.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere.

When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”

You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”

“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”

“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.

“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”

“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.

“The theatre, then?”

Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”

“And you, Elliot.”

Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed.

You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.

You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch.

As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone.

To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through.

He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat.

His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low.

Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover.

Until, Theo spoke up.

“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.

“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.

“When?”

“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you.

“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”

“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”

“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”

“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”

Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”

“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”

“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”

“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.

You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth.

“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”

You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from.

You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair.

“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”

Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend.

“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.

Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after.

Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know.

It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”

“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”

Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one.

“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”

“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”

Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk.

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return.

“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”

“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”

He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”

“That is up to your cousin.”

“Touché.”

You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing.

He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night.

As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”

“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”

“He’s not even here to listen!”

“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”

A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.

“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered.

Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”

“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”

It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you.

“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment.

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”

You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.”

You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them.

“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”

Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…”

Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away.

“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.

Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip.

You’d spoken to Draco’s parents.

They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment.

It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”

“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.”

Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”

The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”

Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps.

It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”

“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”

His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…

“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.

“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”

He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”

“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”

“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.

When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye.

“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”

“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”

Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you.

“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features.

“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all.

“‘We’?”

“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news.

“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”

“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more.

“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”

“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted.

“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.

“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”

“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes.

“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”

You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats.

Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left.

“Where are we going, Dray?”

“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice.

Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food.

The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face.

“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”

“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”

He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile.

“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow.

“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”

His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”

“You never gave me any other indication!”

“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”

The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side.

Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.

“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”

“Yes. I told her days ago.”

“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”

As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”

“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”

“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”

“Blaise.”

“The bracelet?”

“Theo and the Notts.”

At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”

“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”

“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dray.”

He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy/reader #draco malfoy/you #harry potter #slytherin boys #tom felton #draco malfoy x y/n

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pucksandpower · 6 months ago

Text

Baby Girl Norris

Lando Norris x pediatrician!Reader

Summary: you know what you have to do — track down a world-famous Formula 1 driver, tell him about his newborn daughter, and maybe, if he’s willing, help him navigate single fatherhood — falling in love with their little family was not part of the plan … but doing so changes all your lives for the better

You take a deep breath as you enter the nursery, steeling yourself for the task ahead. As a pediatrician at the Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco, you’ve cared for thousands of babies over the years. But this case is different.

Baby Girl Norris, born just two hours ago, is now legally parentless after her mother signed away all parental rights. Hospital protocol demands you track down and notify the father before assuming guardianship. Easier said than done when the father is Formula 1 superstar Lando Norris.

Approaching the clear bassinet, you gaze down at the sleeping newborn. Wispy dark hair peeks out from under her pink cap. Ten tiny fingers curled into fists. She has no idea how complicated her life is about to become.

You flip through the chart again, verifying the details. Mother is French, here on a student visa. Refused to even look at the baby after a 27-hour labor, immediately signing away rights. Father listed as one Lando Norris of the United Kingdom.

You sigh, picking up the phone to dial the number listed. It rings five times before disconnecting. You try the landline for his Monaco residence with the same result. Probably outdated.

Time for plan B. You search the McLaren Racing website until you find a generic service line. Heart pounding, you dial.

“McLaren Technology Centre, this is Marie speaking.”

You take a breath. “Hello, I apologize for the strange request, but I need to reach Lando Norris as soon as possible. It’s … it’s regarding a private family matter.”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Norris does not accept unsolicited communications. Have a nice-”

“Wait!” You interject. “Please, I am calling from Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco. We have a newborn baby girl here, and we believe Mr. Norris may be the father.”

Marie hesitates. “Hold please, I’ll transfer you.”

Your pulse quickens. This may actually work! But your hopes are quickly dashed.

“This is Andrew from McLaren Racing public relations. May I ask who I’m speaking with?” His tone is suspicious.

You explain again about the baby, her mother, and the situation.

Andrew sighs loudly. “I’m sure you understand we get calls like this constantly. Lando isn’t even in the hemisphere right now. I’m afraid we can’t help you.”

“No, wait, please!” But the line goes dead.

You frown, gears turning. The team must think you’re some obsessed fan or scammer. You’ll have to get creative.

Over the next two days, you call every related number you can find. Each time you’re met with more resistance. They must have flagged your information as a nuisance caller.

On the third day, you’re signing charts at the nurse’s station when a colleague walks by. “Did you hear? Lando Norris is coming to take a tour of the hospital next week. Some charity thing.”

Your eyes widen. This is it — your chance to intercept him in person!

You spend the next few days obsessing over what to say, how to convince him. Baby Girl Norris needs her father.

The big day arrives. Heart hammering, you lurk near the lobby, peering around the hallway corner as Lando walks in flanked by handlers. He looks exhausted but flashes his winning smile at the staff welcoming him.

You watch them start down the opposite hallway for the tour when you make your move. Rushing forward, you plant yourself firmly in his path.

“Mr. Norris! Sorry, I need just a minute of your time, it’s urgent-”

A member of his team immediately swoops in, pushing you back. “Ma’am, please. We kindly ask that you step aside.”

“No, wait!” You raise your voice over them. “Mr. Norris, my name is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a pediatrician here. I’ve been trying to reach you for days now regarding your newborn daughter!”

The team looks exasperated, but Lando holds up a hand. “It’s okay, let her speak.” His eyes bore into yours warily.

You take a breath. “I know this sounds insane. But a baby girl was born here last week to a French student named Celeste Dubois. On the birth certificate, she named you as the father before signing away parental rights.”

You continue explaining the situation rapidly, watching Lando��s eyes widen in shock.

One of his handlers steps in. “You honestly expect us to believe this wild story? We’re on a timeline.” He tries to tug Lando along.

“No, it’s okay.” Lando stands firm, studying you intently. “What proof do you have of any of this?”

You hold his gaze. “I can show you the birth certificate, but a DNA test would confirm if you’re the father. It’s hospital policy to notify and provide the father an opportunity to assume custody.”

Lando chews his lip nervously. His team murmurs among themselves.

After a long pause, he speaks. “Even if this is some scam or mix-up, that poor child deserves to have answers. Please, lead the way for a test.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. Wordlessly, you turn and lead Lando to the lab. His team protests but he insists on following through.

In the lab, you supervise as the technician takes a simple cheek swab. “24 to 48 hours for results,” she confirms.

Lando nods, looking dazed. “Right. Okay. If she’s really mine, I want to step up. Just call me, yeah?” He extends his number on a slip of paper.

You smile and promise to be in touch. As he turns to leave, you feel swarmed with emotions. One major hurdle down, but nothing certain yet.

The next 48 hours pass at a snail’s pace. When the lab calls, your fingers shake as you unfold the results. Positive. A 99.99% match.

You pass along the news and arrange a meeting at the hospital. The press can’t know about this yet.

Approaching the secluded waiting room, you pause to observe Lando through the window. He paces nervously, running his hands through his hair again and again. His usual polished veneer is gone, replaced by a young man anxiously awaiting life-changing news. Your heart goes out to him.

Finally knocking, he whirls around as you enter. “Well? Is she really mine?”

You nod, holding out the results. He accepts them with unsteady hands.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he says quietly. “This is just ... a lot.”

“I understand. It’s a complicated situation. But you’re here now.” You offer an encouraging smile.

Lando takes a deep breath. “Can I meet her?”

You lead him to the nursery viewing room. He presses against the glass, eyes scanning until they settle on bassinet D7. His brows knit together.

“That’s her?” His voice wavers slightly.

You nod. “Would you like to go inside and hold her?”

He hesitates. “I don’t want to confuse or upset her.”

You gesture reassuringly. “Newborns seek warmth and a gentle touch. She’ll appreciate the contact.”

Looking uncertain, Lando follows you into the nursery. You lift the swaddled baby, carefully transferring her into Lando’s awkward embrace. He peers down at her, his expression unreadable.

“She’s so tiny ...” he murmurs. The newborn girl yawns, eyes still shut, snuggling instinctively into his chest.

Lando’s guarded facade finally cracks, eyes glistening. He adjusts his arms to cradle her more securely.

“Hi there,” he whispers. “I’m your ...” He trails off, not quite able to say it.

You touch his shoulder gently. “You’re her father. And she needs you.”

He nods, never breaking his gaze from the newborn’s face. “I’ll do right by her, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

Relief sweeps over you. While an arduous legal process awaits, this sweet child will finally have a real family.

As Lando rocks the baby gently, he suddenly laughs. “She’s a real beauty, isn’t she? Look at that hair. Thick and curly, just like her old man.”

You chuckle. “It appears so. Have you thought about a name?”

He hums contemplatively. “I’ve always been partial to Georgia. Gigi for short.”

“Georgia Norris,” you say with a smile. “It’s perfect.”

The new father beams down at his daughter. “Welcome to the world, little Gigi. I can’t wait to take you home.”

As you observe this tender moment, your heart swells for both father and daughter. With someone as loving and dedicated as Lando by her side, Gigi’s future looks bright indeed.

Watching them meet for the first time — seeing a family begin to blossom out of hardship and uncertainty — is the greatest reward of your job. As you quietly slip out to give them space, you can’t hold back a smile. Everything, after all, is turning out exactly as it should.

***

After spending over an hour bonding with his newborn daughter in the nursery, Lando reluctantly hands her back to the nurse for feeding time. He turns to you, smiling but still looking dazed.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N. Really. You’ve given me and Gigi a new start.”

You touch his arm warmly. “Of course. I’m so glad I could help connect you two. She’s absolutely beautiful.”

Lando grins proudly. “She really is perfect. I already love her so much, it’s mad. I just ...” His face falls slightly. “I don’t have the first clue how to actually take care of a baby. Let alone with my job, traveling all the time for races and training. What have I gotten myself into?”

He runs an anxious hand through his curls. Your heart goes out to him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You gesture for him to follow you out to the waiting room for privacy.

Lando collapses onto the sofa, head in hands. “Sorry, I’m just now fully realizing what this means. A baby, she’s completely dependent on me! I don’t know the first thing about babies. I’m barely an adult myself!”

You sit beside him. “Lando, look at me.” He lifts his head reluctantly. You offer an encouraging smile.

“It’s normal to feel overwhelmed. But you stepped up when Gigi needed you most. That’s what matters. With some guidance, you’ll be an amazing father.”

He doesn’t look convinced. You continue gently, “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you all the essential information for first-time parents. I’ll even set you up with parenting classes, and we have a support group-”

Lando groans loudly, letting his head fall back. You suppress a chuckle.

“Okay, forget classes for now. Just focus on learning the basics. Things like feeding, changing, bathing. Infant CPR. I’ll give you my cell to text with questions anytime. Day or night.”

You jot down your number and hand it to him. He nods, looking slightly encouraged.

“We’ll also get you connected with services that can assist first-time parents with supplies, nutrition consultants, and childcare options.”

His eyes widen again. “God, I haven’t even told my family yet! Or bought anything she’ll need!” He scrubs at his face anxiously.

You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Setbacks are expected. But you’ll get there.”

Lando takes a deep breath, regaining some composure. “You’re right. Sorry for the meltdown. I really appreciate you talking me down.”

“Don’t apologize. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t at all anxious about this huge life change.”

You smile warmly. “But you accepted your daughter unconditionally when it mattered most. Not every man in your position would do that. I know you’ll figure the rest out over time. It’s a process.”

He nods, starting to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We’ll take it step by step.”

You spend the next hour walking Lando through all the basics — safe sleep, feeding schedules, hygiene, developmental milestones, and pediatrician visits. He takes vigorous notes on his phone, determination returning to his face.

“Clothes, blankets, nappies, bottles ...” He mumbles to himself as he types. “Maybe pick up a parenting book or two as well ...”

You grin, happy to see him growing more at ease and optimistic. When the nurse returns with a sleeping Gigi, Lando immediately takes her back into his arms.

“We’ve got this, little one,” he whispers to her. “I’ll give you the absolute best in life … starting with a nice new flat for us here in Monaco.” He looks back at you questioningly.

You nod in approval. “Giving Gigi a stable home should be your top priority.”

He smiles down at the baby, gently stroking her cheek. “Daddy will take good care of you. I promise.”

Your heart swells at the natural bond already forming between father and daughter. In this moment, any lingering doubts fade away. However difficult the road ahead, together they’ll be just fine.

After another hour visiting together, it’s time for Lando to head out. He’s clearly still anxious but also radiating love when he gazes at Gigi.

“Thank you again for everything,” he says sincerely, shaking your hand. “I’ll call my parents when I get home. Figure out how to break the news and beg for their help.”

He chuckles and you join in. “Don’t hesitate to text me anytime. About anything.”

Lando glances down at your scrawled cell number, then back up with a crooked grin. “Careful or I might take you up on the anything part.”

You blush slightly, waving him off. “Get out of here, you charmer. Go buy a crib and get some rest. Your life is about to get very busy.”

With a laugh, Lando walks backwards toward the exit, pointing finger guns at you. “Yes ma’am, Dr. Y/L/N. Catch you later.”

You stand shaking your head as he disappears from view. What an interesting patient case this has turned out to be.

Over the next several weeks, you and Lando text constantly. He sends cute videos and photos of Gigi along with his near-constant questions about her care. You don’t mind at all — you’re happy to guide him through this life transition.

True to his word, he quickly finds and furnishes a family-friendly luxury apartment in Monaco. He introduces Gigi to his stunned but excited parents via video call. He adjusts his training schedule to maximize time with her.

When his race travel resumes, he arranges for his parents or a local nanny to assist with Gigi full-time. Still, being apart takes an obvious toll on him.

The day before he’s set to fly to Australia for the first race of the season, Lando texts you a selfie looking forlorn, with Gigi snoozing on his chest.

Can you believe she’s already a month old? I don’t want to leave her!

You grin down at the photo. Gigi’s little rosebud lips are slightly parted as she sleeps. Lando’s staring at her adoringly despite the bags under his eyes.

I know it’s hard being away from her. But Gigi knows she has a father who loves her so much. Focus on making her proud out there!

You always know just what to say, doc. I’ll text you after the race!

You smile softly as you set down your phone. Over the past weeks, you’ve found yourself looking forward to Lando’s frequent messages and photos. He’s relieved when you reassure him he’s doing a great job as a new dad. And seeing Gigi thrive and grow under his doting care makes your heart fuller.

Professionally, your work is done now that Gigi and Lando are connected. But you can’t help feeling personally invested in this little family you helped create. You make a silent vow to always be there for them both, as long as they need you.

***

Weeks later, you’re jolted awake by your ringing cellphone. Bleary-eyed, you check the time: 2:37 am. Who could be calling at this hour?

You don’t recognize the number on your buzzing phone. But you answer anyway, just in case it’s an emergency.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.

“Y/N? Oh thank god!” The panicked voice on the other end makes you sit bolt upright.

Lando.

“Lando? What’s wrong?” Worry floods your system, instantly washing away any grogginess.

“It’s Georgia,” he cries. “She woke up crying and felt so hot. I took her temperature — it’s 39 degrees! I think she has a fever?”

You’re already throwing off your blankets, phone tucked against your shoulder. “Okay, stay calm. How is she acting otherwise?”

“She’s crying and really fussy. Won’t take her bottle. I don’t know what to do!” Lando sounds near tears himself.

“Shhh, deep breath,” you soothe. “Fever in babies this young is serious. You need to take her to emergency department right away.”

“Right, emergency, of course-” Lando rambles nervously.

“I’ll meet you there ASAP. Princess Grace Hospital, yes?”

“Yes, please hurry!” He ends the call abruptly. You scramble for clothes with adrenaline pounding.

In under ten minutes, you’re peeling out of your driveway towards the hospital. Even at this hour, Monaco’s streets remain congested. You drum your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, praying Georgia will be okay.

Once you’ve parked, you race inside the ED doors. Your eyes scan the crowded waiting room until you spot Lando pacing in the corner, Georgia whimpering against his shoulder.

You rush over. “Lando!”

He turns, relief washing over his features. “Y/N, you came. Thank you.”

“Of course.” You squeeze his arm comfortingly before looking Georgia over with practiced eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, eyelids fluttering as she whines. Definitely not well.

Lando bounces lightly, trying to soothe her. “They told me it’s at least an hour wait. She’s getting worse though.” His eyes glisten with tears.

Your protective instincts flare, seeing them both so distraught. Striding to the check-in desk, you put on your most authoritative voice.

“Excuse me, I’m Dr. Y/L/N. I have an infant patient here who needs immediate evaluation.”

The nurse scans the packed waiting room. “I’m so sorry doctor, we’re doing our best. If you could just wait-”

You interrupt firmly. “This is a seven week old with a spiking fever. She requires urgent triage and treatment, not a waiting room. I must insist we be seen next.”

The nurse purses her lips, but can’t really argue with your reasoning. “Of course. I’ll let the charge nurse know to get you back immediately.”

You nod curtly before returning to Lando, who looks awed. “Blimey, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

The hint of a smile on his lips relieves you. Georgia’s still fussy as you both follow a nurse back moments later.

In an exam room, you help transfer the baby from Lando’s arms to the table. Her pitiful crying tugs at your heart.

Lando hovers anxiously as you take Georgia’s vitals and change her into a hospital gown. 39.1°C — higher than the concerning range for an infant. You frown in worry. Poor little love.

Soon the attending pediatrician arrives to assess her. You explain the situation from Lando’s frantic call to racing over. The doctor asks questions while examining Georgia’s ears, throat, and reflexes. Lando clutches your hand tightly the entire time.

After what feels like an eternity, the pediatrician steps back. “Given the fever with no apparent source, I’m concerned this could be a serious bacterial infection. We’ll run labs to check for things like meningitis. Start IV antibiotics and paracetamol to bring her fever down quickly.”

Lando pales, swaying slightly at the onslaught of medical terms. You slip an arm around him supportively.

“You’re saying she might have meningitis?” Lando chokes out.

The doctor holds up his hands. “It’s just one possibility. We’re not sure yet. The labs will tell us more.”

Lando buries his face in his hands. Your heart breaks seeing his shoulders shaking.

After the doctor departs to order tests, you guide Lando to sit down, keeping an arm around him. “Hey, try to breathe. Georgia needs her daddy calm and strong right now.”

Lando drags a hand over his wet eyes. “God, I’m trying. But she’s so little and sick. What if … what if it’s something serious?” His voice breaks again.

You turn him gently to face you, hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me. Whatever is going on, we will figure it out, okay? I’m right here with you both.”

He searches your face before nodding unsteadily. You draw him into a fierce hug.

“We’ve got this,” you whisper.

A nurse entering startles you apart. “Alright, time for labs.”

You both watch anxiously as she collects blood and other samples from a deeply unhappy Georgia. Her shrieking cries at the poking and prodding are harrowing. Lando has gone deathly pale.

Once finished, the nurse situates an IV line in Georgia’s tiny hand, securing it with tape and popping a pacifier in her mouth. Her eyelids droop, cries fading to soft whimpers as medication starts flowing.

You glance at Lando. “Why don’t you hold her again? Skin to skin contact will help soothe you both.”

Looking relieved by the suggestion, Lando strips off his shirt and takes Georgia, nestling her against his bare chest. You drape a blanket over them before rubbing his back comfortingly.

Georgia’s fussing settles as her father hums softly, eyes never leaving her face. The pure love between them makes your throat tighten.

Despite the uncertainty ahead, you know Georgia couldn’t be in better hands. And you silently vow to remain steadfast by their side, for whatever comes next.

Eventually Georgia drifts to sleep. The pediatrician returns shortly after with test results. “Good news. All the cultures are negative so far. With the antibiotics and paracetamol, her fever is already decreasing.”

You and Lando both sigh in relief.

“So no meningitis?” Lando asks hopefully.

The doctor shakes his head. “Doesn’t appear to be. We’ll repeat testing tomorrow, but likely just a minor bacterial infection. She’ll need to stay a few days for monitoring and fluids.”

Lando clutches Georgia closer. “Anything she needs. Thank you, doctor.”

Once you’re alone again, Lando gazes down at his sleeping daughter. “I was so scared,” he admits softly.

You nod, squeezing his shoulder. “I know. But she’s getting great care now. Try and rest — it’s been a long night.”

Lando glances at the empty cot along the wall. “Stay? Please? I … I don’t want to be alone right now.” His voice sounds so small and vulnerable.

Your chest tightens. “Of course.”

You help shift Lando and Georgia onto the little bed. She stirs slightly as you both get settled on either side of her.

Lando strokes Georgia’s cheek tenderly. “My brave girl. You’re going to be just fine.” Glancing up, his eyes meet yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything.”

You offer a tired smile, taking his hand. “That’s what I’m here for. Get some sleep.”

Exhaustion quickly pulls you under. But Lando’s hand remains wrapped firmly in yours until morning.

A strong bond has formed between the three of you. And you know that whatever the future brings, you’ll be facing it together.

***

A few weeks after the scare, you’re finishing paperwork at your desk when your cell rings. Lando’s name pops up, making you smile.

Since the hospitalization, you and Lando have fallen into a routine of near daily calls and texts about Georgia. You don’t mind at all — you adore hearing the latest antics and milestones of your special little patient. Not to mention Lando’s voice tends to brighten your day.

You answer warmly. “Lando! How are my favorite patients today?”

He chuckles. “Well, Georgia just mastered holding her head up while on her tummy. She’s getting so strong! But uh, that’s actually why I’m calling ...”

You detect the hesitancy in his tone. “What’s up?”

Lando sighs. “So McLaren just sprung a mandatory sponsorship meeting on me last minute. It’s in like an hour. I don’t have any childcare lined up though.”

You frown sympathetically. The demands of Lando’s career often collide with new parenthood. “Oh no. Can you reschedule or bring Georgia with you?”

“I tried, but it’s impossible to postpone. And definitely not an ideal environment for a baby,” he laments. “I don’t have any family nearby and my usual nanny said it’s too short notice.”

Your thoughts race, heart sinking at imagining his distress. “Hmm. Well, do you happen to have any trusted neighbors or friends there who could babysit?”

Lando makes a frustrated noise. “I’ve barely met my neighbors. And my mates, well, most are even less qualified than me for childcare. I’m stuck.” Defeat colors his tone.

You bite your lip, hesitating only a moment before saying gently, “Lando, I could come watch her.”

“What? Really?” He sounds stunned. “But isn’t it your day off?”

“It’s no problem, truly,” you insist. “I don’t live far. Be there in fifteen?”

“I-I don’t know what to say. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. Thank you, thank you!” Lando gushes gratefully.

You smile, already grabbing your keys. “Anytime. See you soon!”

On the drive over, butterflies flutter in your stomach. You adore Georgia, of course. But something about visiting Lando’s home, being fully immersed in his world, feels monumentally intimate.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that your priority is helping a friend in need.

You park outside Lando’s sleek modern condo building and take the elevator up after checking in with the concierge. Before you can even knock, the front door swings open.

“Y/N, thank god,” Lando sighs in relief. He looks unfairly attractive despite being slightly disheveled in a dress shirt and slacks. “Please, come in.”

Stepping inside the open concept condo, your eyes sweep over minimalist furniture and racing memorabilia decorating the shelves. Cozy baby items like a playmat and bouncer provide stark contrast. It’s uniquely Lando.

“Nice place,” you remark sincerely.

“Thanks. Still feels empty sometimes, but slowly making it a home for Gigi.” He smiles softly. “Speaking of which ...”

You follow Lando down a short hallway to the nursery. Your heart melts at the sight of Georgia kicking on a playmat, wearing a pink romper with a giant bow.

Lando swoops her up, blowing raspberries on her cheek. “Daddy’s got a big important meeting, princess. But Y/N is going to play with you instead.”

He passes the baby over. Georgia gives you a gummy smile, cooing.

“There’s my sweet girl.” You tickle her belly, eliciting a giggle. Lando beams proudly.

“Alright, her bottle is prepped in the fridge, and there’s clean nappies on the change table. Call if you need anything at all.”

Lando leans down to kiss Georgia’s head. “Be good for Y/N, monkey.”

With a final grateful smile your way, he heads out. You settle on the nursery floor with Georgia. “What adventures shall we have today, miss?”

The next few hours pass in a blur of playing, feeding, changing, and rocking little Georgia. You even manage a nap time by singing softly, something that always seemed to soothe her in the hospital.

Watching her sleep, you feel a rush of tenderness for the tiny being who has depended on you since her first moments. You vow to always be there when Lando and Georgia need you.

Soon enough, Lando returns home looking drained. But his whole face lights up seeing you and Georgia on the floor.

“How’d it go?” He asks, crouching down to tickle her toes.

“Perfect. We had lots of fun, isn’t that right, lovebug?” You hand the baby over for cuddles.

“Daddy missed you.” Lando nuzzles Georgia, before giving you a grateful smile. “I can’t thank you enough. Truly. You’re a natural with her.”

You wave off his praise, but can’t deny the warm spark his words ignite.

After chatting a bit more about Georgia’s afternoon and Lando’s meeting, it’s time for you to head out.

At the door, Lando halts you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Hey, let me take you to dinner this week — a proper thank you,” he entreats. “Anywhere you like.”

Your pulse quickens. It sounds suspiciously close to a date. But Lando’s smiling hopefully, and you find yourself nodding before overthinking it.

“I’d love that.”

Lando grins, looking both relieved and excited. “Brilliant! I’ll text you details. Have a safe drive home.”

Strapping into your car, your thoughts race wildly. This man and his daughter have captured your heart. What started as a professional duty has grown into so much more.

As you drive away, Lando and Georgia waving from the window, you can’t keep the giddy smile off your face.

Your lives are intertwining in the most marvelous ways. And you can’t wait to see what adventures are in store next.

***

The following Saturday evening, you stand in front of the mirror, fussing with your hair and makeup. Glancing at the clock, you feel butterflies swarming. Lando will arrive any minute to pick you up for dinner.

You smooth non-existent wrinkles from your knee-length black dress. It’s daringly low cut for you, but you want to feel beautiful tonight.

A buzz from your phone makes you jolt. Lando is here! Taking a deep breath, you grab your purse and hurry downstairs.

Stepping outside your apartment building, you freeze in awe. Gleaming in the golden hour sunlight is a sleek dark blue vintage supercar unlike any other you’ve seen before.

The driver door opens, and Lando steps out looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit. He beams. “Wow, Y/N. You look absolutely stunning.”

You blush at the sincerity in his warm gaze. “Thank you. This is … quite the car!”

Lando grins, patting the hood affectionately. “She’s my baby — a Lamborghini Miura. Isn’t she a beauty?”

You take in the aerodynamic lines and what you can only assume is a very powerful engine. “Gorgeous. And probably costs more than my yearly income.”

Lando laughs. “But she’s perfect for impressing a lovely date.” He winks before opening the passenger door for you.

You carefully climb in, hyper aware of the tiny black dress riding up your thighs. Lando’s eyes trace your legs appreciatively as you smooth your skirt.

Soon you’re zipping through the seaside city, wind whipping your hair through the open windows. Lando navigates the roads expertly.

He glances your way. “Hope this is alright! Wanted to take the fun car out while the weather holds up.”

You grin at him. “Are you kidding? I feel like a movie star!”

He looks delighted, picking up speed as you both relax into the ride.

Before long, you pull up at the legendary Hotel de Paris Monte-Carlo. A uniformed valet opens your door. Taking the proffered hand, you step out feeling like a princess.

Lando offers his arm. “Shall we?”

Inside the opulent restaurant, you’re quickly shown to an intimate table beside a window overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea. Soft piano music fills the space.

“Lando, this is incredible,” you breathe, taking it all in.

He smiles, eyes never leaving your face. “Only the best for you.”

You blush again at his sincerity. A waiter appears to take your drink order. When you request just water, Lando insists you pick any wine on the menu.

You settle on a creamy chardonnay that pairs perfectly with your scallops and Lando’s steak. Thoughtful touches like him pulling out your chair or refilling your wine glass make the lavish meal all the more special.

The conversation flows effortlessly from racing to traveling to favourite films and music. More than once, Lando’s foot brushes yours beneath the table, sending sparks skittering across your skin.

After dessert, you both linger over coffee, hands unconsciously joined on the pristine tablecloth between you. The connection humming between you feels profound.

When Lando finally checks his watch with a reluctant sigh, you’re surprised to see you’ve been there for over three hours. It felt like mere minutes.

On the drive back, you steal glances at his sharp profile in the fading light. Joy bubbles inside you. The evening exceeded your wildest expectations.

Too soon, you’re pulling up outside your building. Lando hurries around to open your door, ever the gentleman. Clasping his hand, you step out onto the curb together.

Turning, you find him watching you closely. “I had the most wonderful time tonight,” you say sincerely.

Lando’s face breaks into a grin. “Truly magical. Thank you for coming, Y/N.” He squeezes your hand, thumb tracing delicate circles.

On impulse, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Lando.”

With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk inside, casting a coy look back to see him touching his cheek in wonder.

Safely in your apartment, you kick off your heels, collapsing onto the sofa with a giddy smile. The evening played in your mind like a movie — the fancy car, exquisite dinner, effortless conversation. And that powerful connection with Lando blossoming into something new and tender.

What started as a professional relationship has organically grown into a deep friendship over your shared love of little Georgia. But tonight awoke a yearning for more. You sensed the same from Lando in the way he looked at you — with affection, wonder, and desire.

You drift off on the couch still reliving each vivid moment. This feels like the start of something life changing.

Meanwhile, Lando remains fixed outside your building, fingers brushing the spot your lips graced. The soft press seared an imprint deep within him.

People had warned him pursuing anything romantic with Georgia’s physician was unwise. But from the instant he saw you holding his fragile newborn girl, instinct told him you were special. That only grew each day as your compassion and devotion soothed his frightened heart.

Tonight confirmed what he felt blooming for weeks now — he’s completely enchanted by you.

With your laughter still echoing in his mind, Lando finally drives off into the night. He knows his future, wherever it leads, must have you and Georgia in it. He’s falling, fast and hard.

And for once, recklessly chasing his heart feels entirely right. He just hopes you’ll take this leap with him.

***

On a sunny afternoon, you’re sitting cross-legged on Lando’s living room rug playing with Georgia. At nearly four months old now, she’s mastered rolling over and absolutely loves tummy time.

You grin as she determinedly pushes up on her hands, rocking back and forth. “That’s it, clever girl! You’ve almost got it.”

Georgia gives you a gummy smile before toppling over with a huff. Behind you, Lando chuckles from the couch where he’s on hold with a takeaway place.

“I swear she gets more stubborn every day. Definitely takes after me,” he remarks fondly.

You smile. “She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to work for it. Sound familiar?”

Lando laughs. “Too right. At this rate, she’ll be racing cars herself soon.”

You’re about to respond when the sound of the front door opening makes you both freeze. Before you can react, an accented female voice calls out excitedly.

“Lando, darling! Surprise, we’ve come to visit!”

Lando flies off the couch just as his parents round the corner. “Mum! Dad! What are you doing here?”

He embraces them both tightly while you hover awkwardly behind Georgia. What must Lando’s family think finding a strange woman playing with their grandchild?

But before you can open your mouth to explain, Lando’s mum spots you. Her face lights up. “Y/N! How wonderful to finally meet you in person!”

To your shock, she swoops down and hugs you like a long lost relative. Bewildered, you return the embrace.

Over her shoulder, Lando rubs his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I may have told them a fair bit about you and Gigi ...”

His father approaches next, politely shaking your hand. “Lando speaks very highly of you, Y/N. Thank you for taking such good care of our boy and the little one.”

“Oh, um, of course!” You manage to stammer out. Lando mentioned you to his parents? The thought makes your heart flutter wildly.

Before you can dwell on it, Georgia lets out an impatient shriek from her abandoned tummy time.

Cisca gasps, immediately scooping her up. “Oh my goodness, look how big you’ve gotten, baby girl!” She tickles Georgia’s belly, eliciting sweet giggles.

Lando smiles softly at the sight. You feel privileged to witness this intimate family moment.

Soon you’re all seated around the living room, chatting comfortably. Adam keeps throwing not-so-subtle winks Lando’s way whenever you and Cisca fawn over Georgia together. Lando just shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushed.

Later, his parents insist on taking you both out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Over the meal, you observe how Cisca’s animated mannerisms and Adam’s dry wit remind you so much of Lando. He clearly inherited the best of both.

Walking back to the car afterwards, Cisca links her arm through yours fondly. “I’m just thrilled Lando has you looking after him and little Georgia. It takes a very special woman to so selflessly love and support someone else’s child.”

You squeeze her arm, touched. “Well, they make it easy. I’d do anything for those two.”

Cisca pats your hand knowingly. “I can see that, dear. Don’t ever let my son take that for granted.”

Glancing ahead, you watch Lando swinging a sleepy Georgia in his arms, gazing down at her with pure adoration. Your heart clenches.

“I don’t think that’s possible. He’s the most devoted father imaginable,” you reply softly.

Cisca follows your gaze, smiling. “He is at that. Just like his own.”

Adam wraps an arm around his wife, kissing her temple. Cisca leans into him with a contented sigh. Their easy intimacy and abiding love is relationship goals.

You find yourself sneaking another peek at Lando, imagining strolling arm in arm like that one day. But it’s too soon for such daydreams.

Still, meeting his wonderful parents today, seeing how he talks about you … it feels like things are shifting into place.

That night, as Lando walks you to your car, he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “Thank you again for today. You were brilliant with my parents — they’re absolutely smitten.”

You grin. “They’re lovely. I see where you get it from.”

Lando rolls his eyes but smiles bashfully. An impulse has you leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight, Lando.” With a little wave, you slip into your car before he can respond.

But the awestruck look on Lando’s face stays with you the whole drive home. Something big is on the horizon, you can feel it.

And if the way his family embraced you today is any indication, you have their full support too. You’ve never been more excited about what the future holds.

***

A few days later, you’re rushing around your apartment getting ready. Lando invited you over for dinner and a movie tonight while his parents watch Georgia. You’ve been looking forward to the rare child-free evening all week.

After debating outfit options, you decide on form fitting jeans and a silky camisole. Casual yet flirty. Dabbing on a bit of perfume, you check yourself in the mirror. You want to knock his socks off.

Precisely at six, your phone chimes with a text from Lando that he’s waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, you go meet him.

As expected, he looks effortlessly handsome leaning against his flashy car grinning at you. “Well don’t you look gorgeous tonight,” he remarks, opening your door.

You smirk, settling into the low seat. “Not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Norris.”

Lando just winks before speeding off into the golden hour sunlight. You chat easily throughout the short drive about your days apart. When you mention missing Georgia, Lando smiles softly.

“Me too, constantly. But she’s in great hands with my parents tonight.” Reaching over, he gives your hand an affectionate squeeze that makes your heart race.

Soon you pull up outside Lando’s sleek condo building. He leads you upstairs, fingers entwined.

Inside, mouthwatering aromas fill the air. You follow Lando to the kitchen where pots bubble away on the stove.

“I hope you’re hungry. My dad’s recipe for chicken curry.” Lando stirs one of the pots before glancing at you shyly. “I may have been practicing all week.”

You grin, touched that he went to such effort. “It smells incredible! I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Full of surprises.” Lando winks. “Now you just relax while I finish up.”

You perch at the kitchen island while Lando works. The domesticity of it all makes your chest feel warm. You could definitely get used to this.

Soon dinner is served along with a crisp white wine. You compliment Lando between bites, making him preen. Everything is delicious.

Over dessert, your feet become entangled beneath the small table. The simmering looks passing between you leave no doubt this is a date.

With dishes cleared, Lando leads you to the living room. “Now, the entertainment portion of the evening.” He gestures grandly towards the large TV.

You settle onto the plush grey sectional while Lando queues up your chosen rom-com. Before pressing play, he pauses.

“Do you maybe want to get more comfortable?” He gestures to the blanket and abundance of throw pillows nearby.

You smile, touched at how he’s trying to create a cozy movie watching environment. “That sounds perfect.”

Working together, you both strip down to t-shirts and lounge pants, then arrange the pillows and blankets into a comfy nest. Your heart races at the intimacy of it all.

Lando opens his arms for you to curl against his chest. You sigh, breathing in his comforting scent. His steady heartbeat thrums beneath your ear as the movie starts.

About halfway through, you glance up to see Lando staring down at you tenderly, movie forgotten. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, fingers trailing down to tilt your chin up. Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in as his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

Everything around you fades away. The only sensation is Lando’s gentle lips moving with yours, laced with warmth and affection.

When you finally break apart, faces lingering close, he exhales shakily. “Wow. That was ...”

“Perfect,” you whisper, caressing his stubbled cheek. Lando nuzzles into your touch.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he admits with a crooked smile.

You grin. “What took you so long?”

Lando laughs, pulling you closer again. Your lips find their way back together naturally. With your legs entwined and his hand trailing up and down your back, you lose all track of time and space.

Eventually you pull back just to catch your breath, lips pleasantly swollen. Lando strokes your hair tenderly.

“Y/N, you must know by now how truly special you are to me. From the moment we met, I felt fate bringing us together. And I never want to let you go.” His eyes search yours intently.

Your pulse quickens. “Lando ...”

“What I’m trying to say is ...” He takes a deep breath. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?”

Joy erupts inside you as you throw your arms around his neck. “Yes, I’d love nothing more!”

Lando’s delighted laughter vibrates against you as he squeezes you tight. You stay locked in an embrace, trading giddy kisses until sleepiness inevitably sets in.

Lando carries you to bed, tucking you both under the covers with your head pillowed on his chest. You drift off smiling, his steady heartbeat your lullaby.

Waking wrapped in Lando’s arms the next morning feels like pure bliss. He stirs, blinking awake to see you watching him fondly.

“Morning, beautiful.” Lando caresses your cheek before capturing your lips in a tender good morning kiss.

You hum contentedly. “I could get very used to this.”

“Well luckily, you’re my girlfriend now. So you’re stuck with me.” He grins playfully.

You snuggle impossibly closer. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

***

On a sunny spring morning, you’re in Lando’s kitchen pureeing some bananas for Georgia’s breakfast. At nearly one year old now, she’s mastered eating soft finger foods.

Lando wanders in with Georgia propped on his hip, her dark curls tied up in adorable pigtails. “Someone’s ready for her breakfast!”

You grin, smoothing Georgia’s hair back to kiss her chubby cheek. “Morning, my darling! Got your bananas all ready.”

Lando settles Georgia into her high chair, handing you her baby spoon shaped like a rabbit. “Not sure who’s more excited about mealtimes now, her or me,” he jokes.

You laugh. “Gotta get our girl fed so she has energy to get into everything!”

Georgia bangs her hands impatiently on the tray until you scoop up a spoonful of bananas. “Alright, here comes the Formula 1 car!”

You zoom the spoon around playfully before popping it in her mouth. Georgia squeals in delight, kicking her little feet.

Lando leans against the counter smiling as you continue taking turns feeding her. When the last bites are finished, he grabs a washcloth to wipe Georgia’s sticky face and hands.

“Who’s my big girl eating like such a pro?” He coos, tickling her belly. Georgia dissolves into adorable giggles.

Setting the washcloth down, Lando brushes a stray banana strand from her hair. “You’re the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the whole world. Yes you are!”

Georgia beams up at him, waving her hands excitedly. Then clear as day, she exclaims “Mama!”

You freeze in shock. Did she just ...

Lando’s eyes fly to yours, equally stunned. An awkward tension instantly permeates the room.

“I-I never encouraged that, I swear,” Lando rushes to explain, panicked. “I always call you by name when I talk about you to her.”

“No no, of course, I didn’t think-” You halt, flustered. “I would never try to make her call me ...” You can’t even say it, heart pounding wildly.

A heavy silence falls. You avert your eyes, anxiously twisting the washcloth between your hands.

Lando scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why she ...” He trails off helplessly.

After a long pause, Lando touches your arm gently. “Hey, look at me?”

You reluctantly meet his earnest gaze. Lando takes your hands in his, tone serious.

“Y/N, you must know how much I respect your role in Georgia’s life. We’re partners in this, fully. I would never try to force a maternal label on you.”

His obvious sincerity makes you instantly relax. Offering a small smile, you squeeze his hands.

“Of course. I didn’t think that. It just took me by surprise is all.” You take a deep breath before continuing hesitantly.

“But, well … the idea of Georgia seeing me that way doesn’t scare me. Not if it happens naturally.” You chance a glance at Lando through your lashes.

His eyes soften. “Truly?” At your shy nod, a smile spreads across his face.

“Because, well, I was thinking the same.” Lando cradles your face between his palms. “You already are a mum to her in every way that matters.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Joy and relief flood your system.

Georgia makes an impatient noise, breaking the tender spell. You both chuckle.

Lando lifts her from the chair into his arms. “Don’t worry princess, your mama isn’t going anywhere.”

Hearing those words from Lando sends your heart soaring. You join the cuddle, Georgia nestled happily between you.

“Our sweet girl,” Lando murmurs, meeting your gaze over her little head. The pure love reflected back at you erases any lingering doubts.

You place a soft kiss to Georgia’s curls, then lean up to capture Lando’s lips. The promise of your future together never felt stronger.

Many more milestones await, for Georgia and your relationship both. But you know without question that the bonds between you three will only continue growing deeper.

Of all the twists and turns on this journey, your little family is the sweetest gift of all.

***

The day of the Monaco Grand Prix dawns bright and clear. You finish braiding Georgia’s hair as she babbles happily. At 18 months old now, her vocabulary expands daily.

“There we go, pretty girl! All set to cheer on Daddy!”

Georgia grins. “Dada race!”

You smile, smoothing her dress. “That’s right, darling!”

A knock sounds right before Lando pokes his head into the nursery. “My two favorite girls about ready?”

Scooping up Georgia, you turn so he can admire her race day outfit. “Well don’t we look beautiful!” Lando tickles Georgia’s tummy before pulling you both into a hug.

“I can’t tell you how much it means to have you both here today,” he says softly.

You squeeze him tight. As a pediatrician, getting full weekends off for races proved nearly impossible. But for Monaco, you moved mountains.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assure him. Lando’s responding smile warms your heart.

The energy at the track is electric. Georgia’s eyes widen taking in all the sights and sounds. You carry her through the paddock towards the McLaren garage, Lando greeting various people along the way.

Inside, Lando steals a quick kiss. “I better go get suited up. See you after?”

You nod, adjusting a squirmy Georgia on your hip. “We’ll be cheering the loudest!”

Lando changes into his race suit, then leads you both over to his car. Georgia is mesmerized, reaching a tiny hand towards the shiny machine.

“That’s right munchkin, this is what Daddy drives!” Lando points out key features, then grabs a helmet from a crew member.

“Want to try it on?” Not waiting for an answer, Lando gently fits the helmet over Georgia’s curls. She immediately shrieks in delight.

Laughing, Lando scoops her up, zooming her around like she’s driving. “Look at you, a future champion in the making!”

You snap some photos of the adorable scene until it’s time for Lando to go off with his performance coach. After one last kiss for both of you, he disappears into the controlled pre-race chaos.

An assistant escorts you to the McLaren hospitality suite overlooking the pit lane. The view of the gleaming harbor and yachts reminds you this race is unlike anywhere else.

As start time nears, you cuddle a restless Georgia close, pointing out Lando’s car lined up on the grid. “See? There’s Daddy! He’s about to go racing.” Her little brow furrows, not quite understanding.

When the lights go out, Georgia startles at the loud roar of engines. Rubbing her back soothingly, you keep your eyes glued to the screen as the cars hurtle towards the tight first corner bottleneck.

“Come on Lando,” you murmur under your breath. He emerges from the chaos in 4th position. Off to a promising start.

Over the next 90 minutes, you fluctuate between pure elation and anxiety as the race unfolds. A collision forces Lando to pit unexpectedly. Just as your heart rate settles, another car spins right in front of him, spraying debris across the track.

But Lando holds his nerve, keeping the car under control to cross the line in P3. You leap up, cheering loudly with Georgia.

Soon Lando emerges, hair damp from the obligatory champagne shower.

His race suit is unzipped to the waist as he sweeps you both into an exuberant hug. “You did so good,” you murmur into his neck. Pulling back, Lando caresses Georgia’s head where it rests heavily on your shoulder.

“Little one tuckered herself out cheering for Daddy, hmm?” He takes her gently as she nuzzles into his chest with a yawn.

“Let’s get my best girls home.” With Georgia cradled in one arm and the other around your waist, Lando leads you out of the paddock like a proud family man. Your heart feels fit to burst.

That night after Georgia is tucked into bed, you curl up together on the couch. The TV plays highlights of the race you lived firsthand.

Lando absently strokes your hair. “You know, the lads invited me out to celebrate tonight.”

You lift your head. “Oh really? You should go have fun!”

But Lando just smiles, pulling you closer. “And miss this? Not a chance.” He kisses you tenderly. “Partying in Monaco holds nothing on being with my two favorite people.”

You kiss him again, touched. However far Lando’s career takes him, you know his heart will remain right here with you and Georgia.

***

Summer finally arrives, bringing a short respite between races for Lando. Eager to make the most of it, you suggest visiting your hometown to introduce him and Georgia to your parents.

“They’d love to finally meet you both,” you say over breakfast one morning.

Lando smiles, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “That sounds brilliant, love. I can’t wait to see where you grew up.”

You grin excitedly. “It’s nothing glamorous like Monaco. But I have so many good memories there.”

With plans made, you set off early one sunny Saturday morning, boarding a flight with Georgia securely buckled into her carrier. She babbles happily for most of the flight, enchanted by the clouds and miniature landscape passing below. Lando keeps one hand firmly clasped in yours the entire time.

Late afternoon, you finally pull up outside the cozy house you grew up in. Taking a deep breath, you unbuckle a sleepy Georgia from her seat.

“We’re here, Gigi! Ready to meet Grandma and Grandpa?”

She rubs her eyes with a tiny fist, still drowsy. Lando comes around to lift her into his arms.

“Someone’s a bit tired from all the traveling, huh? Maybe a quick nap first?” He kisses Georgia’s fuzzy head as she snuggles into his shoulder.

You nod, smoothing down her rumpled sundress. Taking Lando’s free hand, you head up the front walk.

Before you can even knock, the front door swings open. Your mum stands beaming at the threshold.

“Y/N! Oh, let me see her!” She sweeps you into a tight hug before immediately cooing over a now awake Georgia. “What an absolute darling!”

You grin. “Mom, meet your granddaughter, Georgia.” Saying it out loud sends a little thrill through you.

Your mother gently strokes Georgia’s dark curls. “Look at all this beautiful hair! Those eyes are all her daddy though.” She smiles warmly at Lando.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Lando says politely, shaking her extended hand.

“Oh please, call me Y/M/N! Now come in, come in!” She ushers you both inside the familiar cozy house.

Your dad appears from his office to exchange hearty handshakes and hugs. Lando looks slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiastic welcome.

Sensing this, you squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Why don’t I put Georgia down for her nap? You guys chat.”

Lando shoots you a grateful smile. You disappear down the hall to your childhood bedroom, now converted to a cozy nursery space. Georgia is out like a light before you’ve even finished tucking her in.

Returning to the living room, you pause in the doorway, heart swelling at the scene. Lando sits between your parents on the sofa as they animatedly show him your baby photos. His eyes shine taking it all in. This is the sense of family he’s long craved.

Eventually Georgia wakes, cranky and clingy. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent as you rub her back.

“I know, lots of new things happening today. But you’re being so brave.” Dropping a kiss to her curls, you return to the living room.

Your mother immediately reaches for Georgia, who goes willingly into her arms. “Come sit with Grandma, sweetheart.”

Settling on the couch between your parents again, Lando slips an arm around your shoulders. Georgia babbles happily from your mother’s lap.

The rest of the day passes comfortably as your parents dote on their new granddaughter. Watching your mom help Georgia toddle around the yard, your dad pushing her on the tree swing, Lando’s arm stays wrapped securely around you.

That night after Georgia is down, you find Lando out on the back porch gazing up at the stars. You join him on the steps, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

Lando looks down at you with a soft smile. “More than. Today was really special.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Seeing how your parents just immediately welcomed us into the family … it means everything. I never expected to find this.” His voice turns thick with emotion.

You lift your head to meet his sincere gaze, heart brimming over. No words needed, you convey it all in a tender kiss.

When you eventually pull apart, foreheads touching, Lando exhales shakily. “Being here with you and Gigi, it just feels so right. Like we were always meant to be a family.”

Joyful tears prick your eyes hearing him voice the same feeling living inside you. You cradle his face gently.

“We were, Lando. From that very first day in the hospital, I knew fate brought us together for a reason.”

Lando’s responding smile could outshine the moon and stars overhead. He kisses you again, soft and unhurried, arms encircling you on that familiar back porch.

***

Two years to the day after that fateful first meeting, you’re finishing rounds in the maternity ward when your supervisor requests you in her office. Brow furrowed, you make your way down the hall and knock lightly.

“Come in!”

You step inside to find her beaming behind her desk. “Y/N! Please, have a seat.”

Perplexed, you settle into the plush chair across from her. “Is everything okay?”

“Better than okay, I’d say.” She grins and slides an official document across the desk towards you. “Take a look at this.”

You scan the letter, eyes widening. It’s a notice of a 250,000 euro donation to the hospital’s maternity ward and nursery … made in your name.

“What? This must be a mistake, I didn’t ...” You trail off, completely baffled.

Your supervisor laughs. “Oh it’s quite real, I assure you. In fact, the donor himself insisted on being here today to celebrate.”

Before you can respond, a knock sounds. You turn to see Lando stroll in, right on cue, with a grinning Georgia perched on his hip.

“Lando!” You gasp. “Did you … is this from you?”

He smiles almost shyly, setting Georgia down so she can toddle over to you. “Wanted to do something meaningful to mark the anniversary of when we first met.”

You stand frozen in shock as Georgia crashes into your legs. Scooping her up, you turn back to Lando with tears in your eyes.

“This is too much, I … I don’t know what to say.” You glance between him and your equally emotional supervisor.

Lando moves closer, taking your hands in his. “Say you’ll come with me for a proper celebration? Just the three of us?” He brushes his thumbs over your knuckles, eyes twinkling.

Unable to form words, you simply nod. Lando’s face lights up with that smile that still makes your heart skip.

After signing some paperwork and hugging your supervisor profusely, you allow Lando to lead you out to the car, Georgia babbling happily between you. But instead of heading home, he drives to the glittering harbor front.

There, you gasp to see a magnificent yacht floating ready at the dock. A crew in crisp white uniforms wait nearby.

Lando grins at your stunned reaction. “Told you we’re celebrating in style today!”

The staff smiles warmly as you board, cooing over Georgia toddling around excitedly. She especially loves watching the foam trail behind the yacht as it pulls away from shore.

You stand wrapped in Lando’s arms, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I still can’t believe you did all this,” you murmur.

Lando presses a kiss to your temple. “You deserve it all and more, my love.”

You pass a blissful afternoon on the water, enjoying a gourmet lunch and each other’s company. Lando is attentive as ever, making sure you want for nothing.

As the sun dips low, a crew member approaches. “So sorry to interrupt, but we’ll be arriving shortly. Please follow me downstairs to prepare.”

You glance questioningly at Lando, but he just smiles and urges you to follow with Georgia. Down in your luxurious cabin, an elegant evening gown awaits on the bed alongside a tiny version for Georgia.

Your heart flutters wildly now. Lando is clearly planning something major. You help Georgia into her dress, your hands shaking slightly with anticipation.

A knock at the door announces the crew member has returned. “We’ve arrived back at port, whenever you’re ready.”

Back up top, Lando stands waiting in a sharp suit, holding a bouquet of roses. He looks devastatingly handsome.

Taking your hand, he leads you down the gangplank onto the dock where a car waits to whisk you away into the hills overlooking the sea. The sunset bathes everything in golden light.

When the car stops at a secluded lookout point, Lando helps you out then retrieves a sleepy Georgia. Hand in hand, you approach the cliff edge.

Down below, a massive light display flashes to life along the shoreline. You gasp as the glowing words become clear:

Y/N, will you marry me?

You clap a hand over your mouth, spinning to Lando with tears pooling in your eyes. He’s down on one knee, Georgia sitting next to him playing with flower petals.

“Two years ago, you came into our lives and changed everything,” Lando begins emotionally. “Your compassion and selflessness as a doctor saved my fragile new family.”

He takes a shaky breath. “But you gave me so much more than that. Your kindness, your beauty inside and out, your incredible love for me and Georgia … you’re my dream come true.”

Tears spill freely down your cheeks as Lando pulls out a glittering diamond ring. “So Y/N Y/L/N, nothing would make me happier than for you to officially become my family. Will you marry me?”

A joyful sob escapes you as you sink down, throwing your arms around him. “Yes, Lando, a million times yes!”

His relieved laughter vibrates against you. When you pull back, Lando takes your hand gently to slide the exquisite ring onto your finger. A perfect fit.

Georgia seems to sense the significance of the moment and toddles over to wrap her little arms around your legs. You lift her into a fierce hug between you.

“I love you both so very much,” you whisper emotionally. Lando’s responding smile outshines the luminous lights along the shore.

Cradling your faces in his hands, he seals his proposal with the sweetest kiss as the sunset fades to twilight.

You linger wrapped in Lando’s arms, Georgia nestled between you, as the first stars emerge overhead. Right here, surrounded by your little family, you’ve never felt happier or more at peace.

It’s extraordinary what two short years can bring — unexpected joy, profound purpose, and a love greater than you dared dream.

The brightest days are still ahead. But tonight, in this perfect moment, you know you’ve already found everything you’ll ever need.

***

The day of your wedding to Lando dawns bright and sunny — perfect weather for an outdoor ceremony overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea.

Inside the bridal suite, your mother puts the final pins in your elegant updo while your bridesmaids fuss over the train of your lace gown.

A knock at the door announces your father’s arrival. When you turn to face him in your wedding finery, his eyes well up.

“Oh sweetheart … you look absolutely beautiful.”

You immediately tear up too, embracing him tightly. “Don’t make me ruin my makeup before I’ve even walked down the aisle!”

He laughs wetly, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “Couldn’t help it! My girl is all grown up.”

Looking in the mirror, you hardly recognize yourself in the exquisite dress and pinned-back curls. But the overwhelmed bride staring back has the same little girl dreams you harbored all those years ago. Dreams that are finally coming true today.

Another quick knock precedes Georgia toddling in, chubby legs pumping. Your flower girl is absolutely angelic in her silky dress.

“Mama, pwetty!” She declares, rushing over for cuddles. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent you adore.

“You look so beautiful, my love.” Blinking back fresh tears, you smooth down her unruly curls. “Ready to walk down the aisle with flowers?”

Georgia just grins and reaches for your necklace. You tickle her belly, making her dissolve into adorable giggles. Your heart swells with love for your daughter.

Too soon, the wedding coordinator is poking her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s just about time!”

Butterflies erupt as everyone hustles to line up. Your father tucks your arm through his, beaming with pride. Just outside the doors, Georgia toddles down the petal-strewn aisle ahead of you both.

Then the soaring orchestral processional begins, and you step out into the golden afternoon sunlight. Gasps and murmurs rise at the sight of your dramatic gown trailing behind.

But your eyes lock instantly on Lando under the flower-woven arch, looking devastatingly handsome in his slate grey suit. His face lights up, and you know that your own mirrors the same wonder and joy.

The ceremony passes in a blur of emotions. Before you know it, the officiant instructs you and Lando to face each other and take hands. Time for the vows.

You go first, hands shaking as you pull out your prepared words. But speaking from the heart comes easily.

“Lando, when we first met under the most unexpected circumstances, I had no idea of the amazing journey we’d go on together. My job was to ensure your new daughter received the care she deserved.”

Your voice wavers slightly. “But so quickly, you both became so much more. Being welcomed into your family was the greatest gift. Watching Georgia grow, guiding her first steps and words ...”

You have to pause, blinking back more tears. Lando squeezes your hands encouragingly.

Composing yourself, you continue thickly, “I vow to always provide that same nurturing love and support. I promise to be your safe place to call home after long days apart. And I pledge to show our daughter daily what it means to be a strong, compassionate woman.”

Taking a shaky breath, you finish softly, “You two are my entire world. Loving you is life’s greatest joy.”

Lando’s eyes glisten as he brushes away the single tear trailing down your cheek. His thumbs linger, cradling your face tenderly.

Clearing his throat, he begins his own vows, voice wavering with emotion. “Y/N, you appeared in my life like an angel that frightening day at the hospital. I was so lost, overwhelmed by the massive responsibility of suddenly having Georgia.”

He glances down at your joined hands. “But your compassion and wisdom guided me through those uncertain early days. You made us feel safe.”

Looking up, his eyes pierce yours intensely. “What started as our doctor-patient relationship grew into the most important friendship I’ve ever known. And then, miraculously, into true, deep love. Thank you for loving Georgia as your own and showing me what true partnership means.”

Lando’s voice cracks. He pauses to take a shaky breath. “So I vow to spend every day reciprocating that love and support. I promise to shield you from the chaos of my world and provide a peaceful home for our family.”

Then he turns, taking a folded paper from the best man. “I asked Georgia if she wanted to say anything to her mama today.”

He opens it to reveal a drawing of three stick figures, one much smaller than the others. Scribbled hearts surround you all.

Lando’s voice thickens. “She said to tell you she loves you ‘this much’ and that you’re the best mama ever.”

A sob escapes you as Lando refolds the cherished drawing and hands it over. You press it to your heart, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.

Finally, you slip the wedding bands onto each other’s fingers with whispered words of eternal love and commitment.

When the officiant pronounces you husband and wife, Lando sweeps you into his arms for the kind of kiss that steals your breath and stops time.

You are finally, officially, wholeheartedly one.

The reception flies by in more happy tears, moving speeches, delicious food, and dancing under the stars. Watching Lando twirl Georgia around the floor tugs at your heart.

Later, as you slow dance wrapped in your new husband’s arms, Lando kisses your hair and whispers, “Ready for this new adventure together, Dr. Y/L/N-Norris?”

You beam up at him. “Absolutely. Lead the way, Mr. Norris.”

No matter where life takes you next on this journey, your family will thrive and grow stronger. Lando’s love lifts you up in ways you never imagined possible. And you vow to cherish and repay that gift until your last breath.

***

Returning home from a blissful honeymoon, you settle back into domestic life with Lando and Georgia. Mornings are spent over pancakes, playing hide and seek, and dancing around the living room. The pure joy of your little family never ceases to warm your heart.

One evening after putting Georgia to bed, you curl up with Lando on the couch and hesitantly broach something you’ve been thinking about.

“So I wanted to discuss something with you. It’s just an idea, and please don’t feel pressured at all.” You take a deep breath. “What would you think about me officially adopting Gigi?”

Lando’s eyes widen in surprise. You rush to continue explaining.

“I don’t want you to think I need a piece of paper to love her with my whole heart, because I already do. More than anything in this world.” Your voice cracks slightly.

Reaching out, you grasp his hands. “I just want to make sure that no matter what, I have a legal right to take care of her. But only if you’re completely comfortable with it!”

Lando is quiet for a long moment, studying your anxious face. Then a smile spreads across his face. “Love, I think it’s a beautiful idea.”

You sag in relief. “Truly? I wasn’t sure if it was too much ...”

Lando silences you with a tender kiss. “Gigi is the luckiest girl in the world to have you as her mum. I want the whole world to know that too.”

Tears prick your eyes as Lando caresses your cheek. “The day you promised to love Georgia as your own was the moment I knew you were different. I see how you are with her — the time, the care, the unconditional love ...” His voice cracks slightly.

“You gave us the greatest gift. I want you to have the same security that she’ll always be yours.”

A single tear traces down your cheek. Lando brushes it away gently before drawing you into his arms. You cling to him, heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

When you finally pull back, Lando is dabbing at his own eyes. “So,” he says with a watery chuckle, “How do we make this official?”

You explain the process — paperwork, a hearing, lawyer fees. He waves it all off.

“Whatever it takes. I’ll call our attorney first thing tomorrow.” Lando squeezes you tight. “Soon you’ll legally be Gigi’s mum too!”

You grin and kiss him soundly. With Lando fully on board, excitement takes root.

Over the next weeks, you go through the steps — filing petitions, scheduling court dates, and explaining the process in age-appropriate ways to an occasionally grumpy Georgia when she can’t go play outside instead.

Finally, the big day arrives. You dress Georgia in her favorite pink checkered dress and do her hair in perfect pigtails.

“My beautiful girl,” you murmur, smoothing down a flyaway curl. Her answering smile melts your heart.

At the courthouse, you all meet the social worker assigned to your case. She questions you and Lando gently about your relationship, home life, and approach to parenting. You cling tight to Lando’s hand the entire time.

Finally, it’s time for the hearing before a grandfatherly judge. He smiles warmly, peering over his glasses at you all.

“Well, I must say, this is one of the more straightforward cases to come before me. I can see clear as day how much love exists in this family.”

Relief floods you. The judge continues, “Therefore, I am more than pleased to grant the petition to finalize the adoption of Georgia Senna Norris by her mother, Y/N Y/L/N-Norris.” He bangs his gavel with an air of finality.

Joyful tears pour down your face. Lando whoops and sweeps you into a spinning hug. Even Georgia seems to realize something momentous just occurred, clapping her little hands.

In a daze, you sign the final paperwork making it official before emerging from the courthouse into the warm sunlight, your family now fully complete.

That evening, after Georgia is asleep, you curl up with Lando in bed, reliving the special day. He kisses your hair and murmurs, “I’m so proud of you, Mama.”

You grin against his chest. “I never thought I could feel so much love. She’s changed my life in every way.”

Lando tilts your chin up, eyes glowing. “That’s exactly how I feel about you. My girls who make life beautiful.”

***

One sunny afternoon, you’re in the kitchen prepping a snack for four-year-old Georgia when she comes bounding in from preschool.

“Mummy, guess what? My friend Amy at school is gonna be a big sister!” She hops up on her stool, eyes bright with excitement.

“Oh really? That’s fun!” You slice an apple into bunny shapes.

Georgia nods vigorously. “Yeah! Her mum has a baby in her tummy. Can I have a brother or sister in your tummy too?”

You freeze, knife hovering over the apple. Slowly setting it down, you turn to face her. “You want a little sibling?”

“Yes yes yes!” She bounces in her seat. “I asked Daddy already and he said I should ask you too.”

Your mind spins. A baby … it’s something you and Lando have only vaguely discussed as a someday possibility. But with Georgia asking so eagerly, the concept suddenly feels very real.

Just then, Lando walks in from his office. Georgia immediately appeals to him. “Daddy, tell Mummy we should have a baby! I wanna be a big sister.”

Lando meets your startled gaze, scrubbing a hand through his curls. “Well, uh, what do you think, love? Could be kinda nice to add to our crew.”

You glance between their hopeful faces, heart swelling. “I think … that could be really special for our family.”

Georgia cheers while Lando grins, coming over to wrap you in a hug. “A mini you running around? Sign me up.” His smile falters slightly. “Only if you want to though, truly.”

You squeeze him back. “I really do. We’ve come so far since the days of newborn Georgia. I’d love to go through it all again with you.”

The joy lighting up Lando’s face erases any lingering doubts.

That night after Georgia is asleep, you curl up together to discuss logistics. “I’ll need to give notice at the hospital once I’m pregnant so they can find someone to cover my maternity leave.”

Lando waves dismissively. “Don’t worry about any of that. Focus on growing our little muffin and I’ll handle the rest.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Our little muffin?”

“Or crumpet. Jellybean. Peanut.” Lando grins. “Take your pick, I’ve got a million terrible nicknames ready to go.”

Laughing, you swat his chest playfully. Sobering, you add, “It won’t be easy juggling a newborn and busy four year-old. But I can’t wait to see Georgia as a big sister.”

Lando smiles tenderly, threading his fingers through yours. “You’re already the most incredible mum. Our kids are so lucky.”

Your throat tightens at the absolute faith in his voice. No matter the challenges ahead, you’ll get through them together.

When you share the news with Georgia, she screeches loud enough to wake the neighbors. Her enthusiasm never wanes over the following months.

Finally, the big day arrives. After a long but relatively smooth delivery, your son enters the world screaming indignantly. The sound is music to your ears.

Lando cuts the cord with shaking hands before your little boy is placed in your arms. Love surges fiercely and instantly.

“Hi Maddox,” you whisper through joyful tears. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Lando presses a kiss to both your heads before going to bring Georgia in. She gasps softly, climbing up to peer at her new brother with wide eyes.

“He’s so little!” Reaching out a gentle finger, she strokes Maddox’s downy cheek. Your heart clenches watching your babies meet.

Georgia cuddles close as you adjust her arm to help cradle Maddox. “I’m your big sister Gigi! I’m gonna help take care of you.” She drops a sloppy kiss on his forehead.

Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, you meet Lando’s equally wet gaze. The road that first led you to Lando has become so much more than you ever imagined. But you wouldn’t change a single unexpected twist or turn.

***

You link arms with Lando as you make your way through the familiar Silverstone paddock. The distinctive smell of race fuel hangs in the air, mingling with the buzz of excitement rippling through the crowd.

Georgia skips ahead, her brunette curls bouncing with each step, while Maddox clings to Lando’s free hand, his eyes wide with wonder. Alexa, your two-year-old, nestles securely in your arms, her tiny fingers clutching the McLaren teddy bear she insisted on bringing today. A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at her cherubic face, so much like Lando’s. Your heart swells with love for your beautiful family.

“Mummy, look!” Georgia calls out, pointing towards the McLaren garage suite. “Can we go in and see the car later?”

“We’ll see, darling,” you reply with a wink, knowing full well that Lando will ensure a special tour for the kids.

Lando squeezes your hand, his warm eyes twinkling with adoration. “Anything for my favorite girls … and Maddox,” he teases, ruffling Maddox’s hair playfully.

Maddox giggles, his freckled cheeks dimpling. “I’m your favorite boy though, right?”

“Of course,” Lando assures him with a conspiratorial wink.

As you continue down the bustling pathway, a Sky Sports reporter spots your family and rushes over, microphone in hand.

“Lando! Dr. Y/L/N-Norris! Do you have a moment for a quick interview?” He asks, his cameraman already rolling.

Lando nods, ever the professional. “Sure, mate. Go ahead.”

The reporter flashes a bright smile at the camera. “We’re here at the Silverstone Circuit with McLaren driver, Lando Norris, his wife, Dr. Y/N Y/L/N-Norris, and their children, Georgia, Maddox, and Alexa. It’s the weekend of the British Grand Prix, and the Norris family has been a fixture in the paddock for years.”

He turns to Georgia and Maddox, crouching down to their level. “So, you two must love coming to the races with your dad. What’s your favorite part?”

Georgia’s eyes light up as she launches into an enthusiastic explanation about the cars and the pit stops, her hands gesturing animatedly. Maddox, the quieter one, simply mumbles “the colors” with a shy grin.

The reporter chuckles, clearly charmed by the children’s responses. Straightening up, he addresses you and Lando. “And how about you two? Managing a hectic F1 schedule with three young kids can’t be easy. What’s the secret?”

Before either of you can respond, Georgia pipes up, “But it’s not three kids, it’s five!”

You tense, shooting Lando a panicked glance. This wasn’t how you’d planned to share the news of your pregnancy.

“Five kids?” The reporter’s brows furrow in confusion.

Georgia nods matter-of-factly. “Yep, there are two more babies in Mummy’s belly!”

A hush falls over the small crowd that has gathered nearby, and you can feel dozens of eyes trained on your still-flat stomach. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively place a protective hand over your abdomen.

The reporter blinks, clearly thrown off-script. “Well, I … congratulations! That’s certainly going to be a handful.”

You force a laugh, leaning into Lando’s solid frame. “Yes, well, Lando’s always said he wants a football team.”

Your husband grins, that cheeky grin you fell in love with, and wraps an arm around your waist. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

The crowd titters with amusement, and you can feel the tension dissipating.

“I can only imagine,” the reporter replies with a smile. “Well, thank you all for chatting with us today, and congratulations again on your growing family!”

As the reporter and his crew move on, you turn to Lando, your eyes shining with unshed tears — a heady mix of residual mortification and overwhelming love.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his stubbled jaw. “I know we wanted to share the news on our own terms.”

Lando silences you with a tender kiss, his lips warm and achingly familiar against yours. When he pulls back, his gaze is soft, adoring.

“Are you kidding? There’s no better way to announce it than through Gigi,” he says with a wink. “Besides, I’m just happy the whole world knows that I have super sperm.”

You laugh despite yourself, shoving his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me,” he counters, that infuriatingly irresistible grin stretching across his face.

“God help me, I do,” you sigh, melting into his embrace.

Georgia bounds over then, Maddox and Alexa in tow, her expression a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.

“Was I not supposed to tell, Mummy? Did I do something wrong?” She asks, her eyes wide and questioning.

You quickly kneel down, gathering all three children into your arms and peppering their faces with kisses.

“No, my darling, you didn’t do anything wrong. You just … surprised us, that’s all.” You share a look with Lando over their heads, a look that conveys a thousand words — your hopes, your dreams, your boundless love for this incredible little family you’ve created together.

Lando reaches down, ruffling Georgia’s curls with one hand while gently squeezing your shoulder with the other. A silent promise, a vow to always be by your side as you navigate the beautiful chaos of your life together.

Rising to your feet, you adjust Alexa on your hip and take Georgia’s small hand in your own. Maddox slips his hand into Lando’s, and you set off once more, the television crew long forgotten.

This is your life — a whirlwind of races and airports, photoshoots and interviews. But it’s also quiet nights cuddled on the sofa, re-watching Disney movies for the millionth time. It’s family hugs and sloppy baby kisses, skinned knees and endless giggles. It’s laundry piled to the ceiling and sleepless nights spent pacing the nursery.

It’s messy and magical, exhausting and exhilarating. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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no-144444 · 13 days ago

Text

2 hands-l.norris

summary: your stunt-driver pulled out the day before the shoot, good thing you're dating an f1 driver.

pairing: lando norris x fem! singer! reader

a/n: I, like everyone else, was convinced he'd be in the music video, but alas, no. so here's this to hopefully make up for that :)

kind of smut so 18+

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“Fuck,” you groaned, flinging yourself onto your bed.

“You alright baby?” Lando asked, putting his phone down and looking at you. He very much appreciated the sight in front of him, his girlfriend in nothing but tiny sleep shorts and an old quadrant hoodie. He smiled as you crawled into bed with him.

“The stunt driver for the shoot tomorrow just cancelled,” you frowned, cuddling up to his side. “We’ll have to reschedule, so then the release date of the song will be pushed back, and the release of the tour dates, and-”

“I can do it,” he offered.

You snapped your head to look at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “What kind of car is it?”

“A McLaren,” you nodded and he smiled. “This is genius, and we don’t even have to show your face so it won’t reveal anything-”

“We could show my face and just tell people we’re together,” he shrugged, pulling you onto his lap so that you were straddling him. “It has been 2 years, and this song is about me,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes but nodded all the same. “I have an idea! Let me call the director!” you smiled, jumping off his lap as he frowned at the loss of contact. You quickly ran into your office to start making plans for the next day, excited at your new idea.

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You had entirely rewritten the script for the video, but everyone was much more into the new version, so no one was that upset. Also, everyone was ecstatic that you’d finally decided to include Lando in a video, finally showing the public that you two were together.

The first scene you two had to film was in the car dealership where you were buying a McLaren. You were wearing a simple but pretty dress with a black leather racing jacket. You caught Lando’s eye as he was reading over the script and he smirked, smacking your ass as you went by. You chuckled and hit his hand back, effectively shooing him away so you could get to your spot.

When you got to your spot, the cameras rolled and the director shouted action, and off you went.

“So what’re you looking for?” Max F, the ‘actor’ playing the car salesman, smirked. Yes, you’d gotten Max in on it too.

“Something fast.”

The camera flashed between the two of you, then to the orange McLaren behind you.

“I’ll need a test drive,” you smirked, and the camera panned to Lando, clad in a beautiful purple and orange racing suit tied around his waist, a shirt with the car dealerships logo on it, and a smirk on his face. He jingled the keys and the intro to the song started playing, then they cut.

“Perfect!” Kyle, the director, shouted. “We’ll get it from a few more angles, then move on.”

Next was a shot of the two of you in the car, Lando wearing sunglasses as he drove through the LA streets as you lip synced to the first verse of the song, the angles changing every few words. After shooting that a couple of times, you two got a break.

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“You look fucking incredible,” he muttered, pressing kiss after kiss along your next as you two sat in your trailer. “So fucking sexy.”

You chuckled,slightly pushing him off of you. “Calm down, Megan will kill me if I have any more ‘accidents’ to cover up.”

He shook his head, watching you as you got up. “You’re so beautiful,” he smiled. “So smart too.”

“Well, thank you baby,” you smiled. “Ready to take your shirt off?”

He chuckled. “Oh yeah.”

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The next scene was pretty risque, it was the two of you in a motel bed ‘making out’ as you sang the chorus, his ‘2 hands’ all over you. On top of that, his hands were covered in lipstick kisses as well as the majority of his neck and chest, which you happily did. You’d both gone through a costume change, now you were wearing a black lacy bra and he was wearing no shirt, the both of you looking stunning (and slightly funny considering the fact that you were both just wearing sweats under the covers).

“T-5 to action,” Kyle shouted, counting you two in.

He pressed open mouthed kisses to your neck as you lip-synced the song to the camera over his shoulder, a sultry look in your eyes as you embodied the lyrics, grinding down on him slightly. After shooting it from a few different angles, you and the team called it a day, ready to come back tomorrow and finish it up.

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Lando all but threw you on the bed when you got home that night, insatiable after a day of being teased.

You giggled as he pulled your pants off, pressing kisses up your legs as he unclothed himself, muttering the whole way up to your lips. “So fuckin’ perfect baby,” he grunted. “Teasin’ me all day,” he bit into your shoulder and you moaned, making him smirk. “Such a bad girl.”

“You love it,” you smirked, wrapping your hands around his forearms and flipping the position so that you were straddling him, holding his arms to the bed. “You fucking loved it today.”

“Damn right I did,” he smirked. You let go of his hands to pull off your final item of clothing (your shirt) and his hands immediately went to caressing your thighs. His eyes grew wide as he watched you pull your shirt off, and you knew it would be a long night, but you weren’t complaining.

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When you got to set the next day, you had an apologetic look on your face as Megan frowned, seeing the next hickeys on your neck.

“Is he a fucking vampire or something?” she scoffed, getting to work on covering them up.

“Y’know what, don’t cover them,” Kyle interjected. “It makes sense with the video for her to have them.”

“Thanks Kyle,” Lando smiled, feeling like he was on his side. You laughed when Kyle rolled his eyes at him.

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The next scene was just shots of the car driving through the LA streets, which Lando perfectly executed. He seemed to really be enjoying himself and the shots of the car were perfect, so you moved on to the next scene, which was you two at a gas station, dancing to the song as you lip-synced. It wasn’t difficult choreography by any means (Or else Lando wouldn’t have been able to do it), but it was a bit raunchy. Mostly just you dancing on his as he smirked or you pulling him closer and almost kissing him, but then just turning back to the camera and singing the next lyric. You were wearing the car dealership shirt with tiny shorts, and he was wearing a new collection quadrant hoodie and a pair of black jeans.

You watched as he looked you up and down while everyone else was resetting the shot to film again because Lando ended up laughing.

“Like what you see?” you smirked.

“More than you know,” he smiled, grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was hot and heavy with a promise of something more beneath, it made you excited for the rest of the day.

After refilming that a couple of times, you moved onto one of the last shots of the video, you just lip-syncing the words as you sat on top of the car, Lando in various different positions. One of him pumping the gas, one of him opening the door for you, one of him in the driver's seat, one of him beside you on the hood of the car, another of the two of you making out against the door. Moving on from that, Lando went off to film some more of the car scene while you stayed back and filmed the dance break of the song. Those were the last things that needed filming, so you all wrapped up and thanked the crew, going back home after a gruelling day to get fucked by your hot boyfriend.

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The video came out and fans went wild. They edited it, they started fanpages, they stalked your socials, and everything in between. You both decided to make a post.

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yourusername and landonorris

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, yourusername and 8,029,238 others

yourusername: 2 hands out now.

comments

landonorris: y r u so hot??? -> yourusername: idk come cool me down -> landonorris: RUNNING

mclaren: stream 2 hands for win in LV🧡🧡🧡

user83: BI PANIC WTF

user29: THE BED SCENE HELLO????

carlossainz: lando is no longer a little boy? -> yourusername: bro was never 'little' -> user21: WTF WTF WTF WTF

user6: MY OTP

user33: My ship is alive!!!!!!!

user74: ewww a vroom vroom guy??

user46: no way lando no- rizz bagged THE Y/N Y/L/N -> yourusername: it's a sad truth... -> oscarpiastri: @.landonorris you're going to take that? -> landonorris: yes. look at her. -> landonorris: actually don't. don't look at her. she's mine

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

2K notes · View notes

keferon · 3 days ago

Text

My hands are shaky and my head is refusing to work properly! But! I made it!

The Blurr chapter for Mecha au >:D

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

Under the cut

————————————

Nobody likes Blurr.

Okay, if you think on a large scale, everyone loooves Blurr. His face is on every poster, his brand is in every possible store, his voice and is in every cool commercial. You literally can't exist without knowing who Blurr is, or at least seeing his face once. It's a “Luke I'm your father” level phenomenon. How massive a rock do you have to live under to miss something like that?

Everybody loves Blurr. You can go buy a t-shirt with his face on it. You can go listen to his interviews or purchase a tiny replica of his action figure. There are incredibly many ways a Blurr fan can blow a hole in their budget.

Swerve knows, because he's done it many times. And recently, it's stopped being something he's proud of. To be precise, it was exactly four days ago when Blurr first stepped into his office. Swerve had just finished his shift and was finishing his tea when his boss suddenly appeared in the doorway, with the best racer in the world right behind him.

The tea was instantly dropped, adrenaline was released, and the brain was turned off.

In that moment, Swerve thought that this is what it must look like. The moment when all your good karma comes together in one pile to reward you for all the times you dropped a sandwich butter side down or missed a deadline.

Both of which happened with annoying regularity. Swerve is unlucky. Sometimes things seem to fall through his hands.

It started out great.

Swindle, their boss, showed up in the office space one day looking simultaneously jubilant, nervous, and very inspired. Usually on such occasions, Swerve could almost see the dollar signs reflected in his boss's glasses.

“Attention everyone. We have an important guest arriving in an hour.”

Swindle expressively pushed his glasses down on his nose and looked around the room

“I promised him a tour and I expect you all to behave yourselves.”

He meticulously looks around the floor beneath his feet

“Send someone to clean up all the trash. This place is unbelievably filthy. The floors should be sparkling in twenty minutes! And, oh! Hey you, go buy some good drinks.”

Having finished inspecting the floor Swindle hurriedly runs off, probably to say the same thing to the neighboring department.

Swerve stretches his neck out curiously, listening in

“Is the president coming to see us?”

Walking by, Jazz shrugs

“When the president was coming Swindle said the floor was dirty and made him wear boot covers.”

It's not the president

Swindle gestures generously to the entire office at once and looks overall like a bird trying his best to primp up

“And here we have the engineering department offices. In the next building is the assembly plant, that's where the mechs are put on their feet so to speak. And this is where all the computing, design, and planning happens.”

Just over his shoulder stands and looks around at none other than

Oh, dear God.

Swerve's tea flies to the floor next to his thought processes.

He's seen Blurr countless times, but never in person. How can this guy look as good in person as he does in expensive retouched-until-squeaky-clean photos? Mystery.

Blurr's gaze slides lazily over the simple office setting and for those two seconds when it's directed at Swerve it feels like sheer madness. He tries to look normal. He's not sure he's succeeding, but he's making an effort.

Swindle waltzes through the office, heading for the next door

“Come on I'll show you the mech hangar.”

Blurr grins.

“A highlight of the show I suppose~”

His voice is like a needle bursting a ball of stunned silence. People begin to rise from their seats and scramble to say hello. Someone asks for an autograph, others ask for a bunch of selfies, a couple people in the corner hastily fix their hair, one of the employees just pulls out his phone and shamelessly starts filming.

Swindle looks at the this with an unchanging commercial smile, but his gaze promises all kinds of punishment.

Perhaps if it had been the president, the buffoonery would have been smaller.

______________

For the next few days, Blurr is the big news and the center of all discussion.

Officially? He's becoming one of the pilots in the Mecha program.

In fact? Swindle's greedy soul couldn't get enough of the idea that the Mech concept could be monetized.

The dust is blown off Blurr and his boots are licked. He doesn't go to general training, he doesn't participate in ordinary or overly dangerous missions. He's allowed everything and a little more. His job is to look pretty on camera, speak his lines, smile and wink. He's a walking advertisement and Swindle's incredibly powerful tool in negotiating with investors.

Swerve once saw him called to a negotiation in the middle of the night, and even sleep-deprived and exhausted after a full day of filming, Blurr had the strength to pull that charming expression on his face and flawlessly play along with Swindle wherever he needed to.

His mech was a work of art. And that's not even an exaggeration. Usually the main purpose of mechs is to be efficient and practical. Blurr's Mech was made separately and so many people worked on its design that it could have its own end credits. It's beautiful, sleek, shiny and show-offy. It's designed to be awe-inspiring, but not so decorated that it's ridiculous.

When Swerve looks at its specs, he almost feels sick. Maneuverability, mobility, everything is absolutely top-notch. But most importantly, speed.

The technology to accelerate Mechs to incredible speeds has been around for some time, but the average robot doesn't reach even half of the technically possible maximum. Because even the fastest machine can't outrun the human brain.

After a certain threshold, pilots are no longer capable of controlling their own Mech. Human reaction speed is simply not enough to maneuver without crashing into anything or losing their orientation in space. And. Well. Without losing consciousness.

This has led to Mech manufacturers sort of tacitly agreeing on a rough speed limit and tending to stick to it. Just to make the technology safer and more suitable for everyone.

Regardless. Everyone except Blurr apparently.

Because the numbers across from his Mech's speed specs are horrifying. Swerve looks at the blueprints and thinks it's either freaking awesome or absolute suicide. Maybe something in between. Can a human being have reflexes like that? What about this turning mechanism? The numbers tell him that these levels of g-force make a large percentage of pilots just pass out.

Is Blurr really going to pilot this death wagon??

To achieve that kind of speed and mobility, they'd have to cut off half the armor or make it very light. Which would almost be like inviting a dangerous injury.

But if the Mech is made primarily to flaunt rather than fight...well... it probably makes sense.

Swerve's inner fan is sliding down the wall.

Blurr is incredible. And what's even more incredible is that he's kind of sort of almost Swerve's coworker now.

It only takes him a couple days to realize.

Everyone loves Blurr.

But the one who loves Blurr the most is Blurr himself.

The rose-tinted glasses are breaking slowly but surely. On the first day, Sverve walks up on shaky legs to get introduced. He tells himself that this is definitely not an attempt to get an autograph. They're coworkers. He's just...uh...greeting a new employee.

Blurr looks slightly bored.

“You're from this department....uh.. What's its name, whatever.”

Swerve clutches his hands in front of him so he doesn't accidentally drop anything

“OH.Uh yeah. Swerve! Engineering Department. You were there on a tour the other day. I usually work in the assembly plant, making armor for Mechs, developing new alloys. But I design too! I, uh.

(Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. He'll think you're a crazy fan. Don't talk about Blurr.)

Blurr starts to get sidetracked by his phone.

Swerve swallows awkwardly.

“I'm uh. I'm a big fan of yours. Sir.”

(Good job...)

Blurr chuckles softly and offers out his hand

“Well, nice to meet you.”

Sverve's hand is shaking like crazy, he hopes he isn't squeezing too hard. Working in the assembly has made his hands rough. Blurr's narrow, soft palm is almost sinking in his grip.

“ 'Nice to meet you, yes. Nice to meet you sir! If you, ah, if you have any problems or questions or uh, well. You know, if you need help with your Mech or upgrades or or.”

Blurr chuckles.

“I'll be counting on you~”

Swerve feels like his soul is about to break away from his body.

The next, day when they cross paths in the hallway Blurr waves to him.

“Hey you. Whatever your name is. Can you tell me how to get to Block D?

Swerve stops awkwardly.

“Ah. Of course! I'm Swerve sir. Come, I'll show you.”

Blurr smiles a beautiful, ad-libbed smile and follows him in

“Thank you darling.”

From this point on, the entire program gradually learns a simple but unpleasant truth.

Blurr is an asshole.

And nobody likes him.

He always has everyone at his beck and call. You rarely get to see him on his own. There's always someone swirling around him with a guilty or annoyed face. A sort of serve-get-show-explain designated poor guy.

Swindle treats Blurr like a precious antique vase.

Blurr treats people like his servants.

The whole world is in love with the glittering cover, the image polished to a squeak. Until recently, Swerve was doing the same thing. Now it feels more like an embarrassing crush.

Blurr still doesn't remember his name. He actually remembers at most three to four people by name, and calls everyone else “hey you” or “ darling”. After Swerve reintroduced himself to him for the fourth time he just sort of...stopped trying.

On the field, Blurr is incredible. No one can deny that. The tremendous speed of his Mech leaves all the other pilots in the dust. Whoever said human reflexes weren't fast enough? HA. When Swerve sees his reports and results, he gets dizzy.

The combination of such incredible speeds and light armor means Blurr simply can't miss. If he hesitates, if he falters. If he gets confused. The whole metal thing will smash him to smithereens.

And yet Blurr comes back untouched time after time.

Swerve's no longer inclined to think it's just because of his mad skills. He knows that Swindle is paying Blurr a lot of money for his cooperation. No one would let Blurr fight on the front lines, no. It would be too dangerous. He has to do just enough so that Swindle can record a commercial and in it call Blurr a badass pilot without adding small print to that statement.

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. But he is the first person every citizen would name if asked to say something about the Mech program. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

A month later, he still can't remember anyone's names and sometimes calls people by the colors of their clothes, laughing as if they should take it as a cute joke.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

That's okay.

It's not like fanboying over Blurr is Swerve's only passion.

He gets upset.

Then he gets mad and rips down all the posters.

Then he has no time to be angry because Swindle wants to launch Mechs into outer space and damn it, Jazz flies off the planet and doesn't fucking come back. The engineering department stays up nights trying to figure out where he's gone, but they can't.

Unlike Blurr, everybody loved Jazz.

Unlike Blurr, Jazz deserved every ounce of that love.

The ground beneath his feet is starting to shake.

At first, all that happens is panic. Everyone starts making a confused noise, someone assumes an earthquake.

A voice on the speakers says that everyone needs to evacuate immediately, but no one hears it because huge mechanical tentacles start coming through the windows and the whole building starts shaking, creaking and crumbling.

Sverve has seen the monsters humanity has to fight many times. But never this close. And their size leaves him absolutely terrified. These things are huge, they take up all visible space. And what's most damning is that they can break down the walls around Swerve like a fucking cookie.

He's gonna die. Oh god he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die here under this stupid rubble or get eaten or turned into one of the ugly bloody stains on the wall. His heart is doing a million beats a minute and his eyes are starting to sting. He tries to get to the emergency exit, but the door is blocked by one of the huge toothy creatures that is actively trying to get in.

Next to him, Swindle is shouting to someone on his comm, trying to sound louder than the rumble of the collapsing building and the hungry aliens.

The floor tilts at a very disturbing angle and Swerve grabs one of the interior doorways to stay in place. A second later, he reaches out and pulls Swindle, who has already slowly begun to slip toward the monster's huge hungry maw, to the same doorway.

Swindle grabs onto the frame of the door and Swerve at the same time. His glasses are cracked and his usually neat expensive coat is all dust and debris.

“It was a trap.”

Swerve can't hear a word over the grinding of breaking structures.

“What?”

Swindle almost slips and falls, but Swerve grabs him by the scruff of his coat and puts him back on his feet. Working in an assembly shop gives a man strong arms and right now he's very grateful for it.

Swindle makes a second, louder attempt

“It was a trap!!! All available pilots are now on the other side of the country! I've called for backup, but who knows how fast they'll get here.”

A smooth, silky voice comes from a walkie-talkie strapped to his coat.

“Ouch Swindle. So little faith in my professional skills?”

Swindle rounds his eyes

“Blurr??! Where are you!”

Blurr's voice sounds...not quite as it usually does. It's missing the habitual lazy note. The one that makes him sound like the whole world owes him money.

“Give me another minute and the answer will be 'here'.”

The building shakes again. Swindle swears so eloquently that Swerve can't help but admire it.

Swerve can't stand Blurr's smug face, but when he spots the first glimpse of blue metal in the window, joy floods his brain.

He usually associates Blurr with dumb nicknames, dismissive treatment, and commercials.

Now he watches the sleek, fast Mech lunge fearlessly at the monsters surrounding the building and thinks that. Fuck this. He's an asshole, but if he buys Swerve enough time to evacuate, he'll bring him a thank you card or something later. Though it's unlikely Blurr will care about that of course.

Swindle continues to shout instructions over the walkie-talkie. Swerve basically drags him outside by. He jumps up probably a full meter when very near him one of the monsters falls to the ground.

Blurr's Mech stands proudly on top of the fresh corpse and looks...actually really bad. Swerve knows that this particular robot was not built for rough, open confrontation. Its armor is too thin. Designed for speed and agility, not strength. He assembled it himself, after all.

Many of the plates are crumpled. Some are torn off. His legs are intact, but one of the joints sparks funny.

Blurr quickly looks around and Swerve unwittingly follows his example. The whole place is on fire. Office buildings are in ruins and a huge column of black smoke rises above the assembly plant.

Blurr's Mech drops to the ground and gets down on one knee. The plates on its chest are pulled aside and Blurr sticks his head out of the cockpit while simultaneously opening the visor on his helmet.

“Everyone okay?”

Swindle clutches the walkie-talkie

“The office areas are empty, but there still could be people left on the lower floors of the assembly plant. But we have no access there!”

Blurr drums his fingers quickly on the metal plate

“Fire?”

Swindle shrugs his dusty shoulders

“Something exploded at the bottom of the building. It's a real smelter down there.

Even if we send a Mech, it won't last more than a minute before it overheats. Or make the building collapse.”

Blurr's gaze becomes focused. Sharp. Swerve has seen that look many times on tough front line fighters like Jazz. On Blurr, never.

“'That's enough time for me.”

Swindle waves his hands

“Are you crazy?”

Blurr slaps his palm against the armor of his Mech

“This baby is light. Lighter than anything you've got! If anyone can do it without dropping the building, it's me. They make Mechs in the assembly hall, it's got high ceilings right?”

Swerve wants to snap. He wants to throw his hands up angrily and yell something along the lines of “you were literally there!”

Who else is down there on those lower floors??? Tailgate? Maybe Wheeljack? If something exploded, Wheeljack was definitely there. And probably closest to the explosion.

Swindle curses furiously, but retreats and runs off to give orders to someone else.

“”Be a hero if you want, but I'm not going in there. For all I know there could be melting metal in there instead of a floor! It's just not reasonable.”

Swerve's brain stumbles over that statement. Why...Swindle is acting like he's being forced to climb into that building too...?

Blurr looks nervous.

“You know what. Fine. I got it. Hey, you--”

And there it is. The good old namelesness.

Blurr pays no attention to Swerve's frowning face, nor his hands shaking with fear

“ You're familiar with those buildings. You know who was there and where to find them right? I need you to walk me through.”

Swerve feels the urge to snap again and this time doesn't hold it back

“If you cared about something other than yourself, you'd know this damn building and the people who work in it too and !”

“I don't fucking remember!” Blurr interrupts him.

Swerve doesn't have time to put anything in after that. Though a sarcastic comment is begging to be made.

Blurr quickly takes off his helmet and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

“I don't remember okay! This isn't a fad or posing or whatever else you think of me. This is what an accident can do to you if you miss a turn! I can't remember shit, okay?! Do you need a medical report?!”

Swerve just...stands there with his mouth open and probably looks like an idiot.

Blurr nervously tucks back his disheveled hair. The longer he talks, the faster he does it.

“Now. I know you don't want to die in a pit of fire. But I need your help to save them. Don't do anything, just take the map. I promise I won't let you die.”

He sounds determined. And holds out his hand to Swerve, silently inviting him to climb up onto the Mech.

His face is stained in sticky dust, his hair is an absolute mess, and his narrow palm is covered in streaks of soot. It's as if he's been dragged face down a muddy road.

He's. Very Handsome, Swerve thinks.

He takes his hand.

Blurr helps him up, pushes him into the space next to the pilot's seat, and closes the cockpit.

“Been inside a working Mech ever?”

Swerve clenches his hands nervously on the back of the seat

“No.”

The lights of the consoles around him come to life as Blurr puts on his helmet. The space around him hums. It's a strange noise. At once unsettling and calm.

Mech feels alive, he thinks. Then corrects himself. Blurr is mind-linked to this Mech. This Mech can technically be considered alive in a sense.

Blurr moves one of the monitors toward him and opens the map.

“Just mark the path here. Don't touch anything else. And hold on tight. I won't be going too fast anyway, but it'll be shaky.”

Swerve swallows nervously.

“Understood.”

After that, everything turns into motion. Watching the Mech work while being inside is mesmerizing.

Blurr doesn't say much, concentrating on the controls. His hands aren't shaking anymore, Swerve notices. Not even a little.

He steers the machine forward confidently and smoothly, dodging falling debris and avoiding the biggest pockets of fire without panic or hesitation.

He's also strictly following the path Swerve is laying out for him.

The air filtration system is doing well so far. Swerve can feel the smell of burning and the heat slowly creeping up, but it's bearable for now. For now.

They find a man on the nearside of the emergency exit.

Two more people a floor below. A small group stuck in the elevator.

Wheeljack's on the doorstep of his lab.

Blurr pulls them all out. Picks up the first group of people and carries them outside, goes back into the fiery furnace, finds more survivors, pulls them out, goes back, searches, rescues, goes back, searches, rescues.

The heat is coming up. Swerve can feel it. The plates around him are getting hot. The air smells like burnt wires.

Blurr’s Mech wasn't designed for this kind of thing.

His Mech was made to flash for the camera and accelerate to impossible speeds. To deceive and confuse the enemy. Its armor is thin and cools easily in the air, which usually helps it avoid overheating.

This also means that this Mech heats up very quickly as well.

Now, with the air around him feeling like a red-hot frying pan, Swerve regrets not saying anything back then. He regrets that he didn't make any changes to the blueprint.

More and more warnings pop up on the screens. The map stopped working correctly some time ago and Swerve is forced to give directions verbally.

He nervously grips the back of the pilot seat with one hand and, without noticing, Blurr's shoulder with the other.

Blurr carries two more people outside and hands them to the rescuers. Then turns back to the building again and. OH FUCK. Right in front of him, a huge crack begins to creep along the structure. This thing is on the verge of collapse. The roof is already starting to fold down in a very bad way.

Swerve clenches his grip fearfully and hears Blurr hiss through his teeth.

Suddenly, the cockpit opens. The fresh air of the street feels like a cold sledgehammer blow after the heat and stuffiness of the lower levels.

Swerve is about to ask something, but doesn't have time because Blurr uses Mech's hand to gently but quickly pull him outside and set him on the ground.

“You were going to mark another spot.”

Swerve nods hurriedly.

“Tailgate is still there.”

Blurr wrinkles his face.

Swerve corrects himself and clarifies

“Bright blue uniform. Short. Considering all the places we've been, I think he's in the staff quarters. It's...”

He chews his fingers, trying to remember numbers and directions without a map

“...two floors down, left, another floor down and straight ahead.”

As he speaks Blurr bends over the side of the open cockpit and spits...blood on the ground. His nose is bleeding, Swerve realizes. That's not good. It's a clear sign of a malfunctioning neural connection. Or damage to his respiratory system? Possibly both.

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his worried look

“Two down, left down then. Shit. Wait. Two down, left then down, straight ahead yeah?”

Swerve nods.

Blurr keeps repeating these directions like a mantra. A very fast and creepy mantra.

His gaze roams strangely and his breaths sound hoarse. His teeth and chin are covered in blood and his face is streaked with soot.

Swerve understands. He's about to do another go.

Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight.

Alone. He's going, and he's going to fry himself alive in there for a stranger he doesn't even remember.

Swerve doesn't have time to say anything. What's he gonna say? Stop? But he wants to save Tailgate? Go on, I believe in you? But it's certain death.

Swerve rarely has nothing to say, but this time he can't find the right words.

Blurr wipes the blood with his sleeve, wrinkles his nose, and storms off, heading back into the flaming mess the plant has become.

Not twenty seconds later, the roof collapses, spewing a huge cloud of smoke, ash, and fire into the sky.

Swerve wrinkles his shirt nervously in his hands.

The walls are still in place, right? If the roof is gone but the walls are still standing it's... it's. It's.

Damn it. He's trying to remember the blueprints. It means the ejector will work. It means Blurr can still get out through the top. That--

Blurr's not getting out. As the small, bright blue escape pod appears above the falling walls of the building, Swerve feels his brain stop. Remember the blueprints, remember the damn blueprints. The Mech is light, the design is compact, the space in the pod is for only one person.

In the capsule lies an unconscious Tailgate.

Swindle grasps the radio

“Blurr? BLURR!”

Swerve looks at the smoke and ash and feels numb. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He has to know. He doesn't...

He feels weird. The same kind of weird as when objects fly seemingly through him. Everything just stops being real.

The thought comes out of nowhere. You don't have to obey the rules. You can see more. Just look.

He's not sure how or why he's doing it.

No one around him is paying much attention to him. Everyone's busy with survivors and damage assessment or just stunned by the chaos.

And him? He disappears.

And then he appears at the bottom. Under the rubble.

All around him is ugly, molten and red-hot chaos, but he doesn't care anymore. He feels like whatever is happening is about to end and he just has to be in time. Time for him to find out.

Blurr's Mech lies crushed by the fallen roof. Its cockpit is open. A gaping hole where his chest was, the place where the escape pod had undocked.

Wall debris has pinned him in a crooked, grotesque pose.

Blurr is here. His legs are wedged between crumpled metal plates inside the cockpit, leaving him hanging upside down. His suit is charred. Half of his face is destroyed. It looks like a horrible bloody and burned mess. It's ugly and gruesome.

Blurr opens his only working eye and gives Swerve a cloudy look.

“I must be seeing things...”

Swerve shrugs in daze. He knows he shouldn't be here.

Blurr spits up a mouthful of blood

“I'm sorry I hurt you uh...”

“Swerve.”

“Yes. Swerve. It's hard for me to remember things unless they're...akgh...hell... not in my face all the time.”

Swerve moves closer and frowns

“You know, that explains but doesn't excuse you.”

Blurr closes his eye and coughs. That sounds really bad.

“No...I guess not.”

He huffs off the blood again. The burned half of his face is oozing with it. The blood runs down his forehead, collecting in a small puddle on the floor.

“It was better than letting everyone know what's wrong with me. I can't even begin to think about the amount of messes I'd be dragged into.”

Swerve notes that the fire seems to be getting closer.

This whole bit of dialog is so unnatural. Who even talks about that kind of stuff before they die. On the other hand. Well. Character development?

“So you think it's better to have everyone assume you're a jerk than that you got your head screwed on?”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“ You're a very specific kind of ghost.”

Swerve shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away

“I needed to know. Before you die.”

“That's ...akghhh...ha....it's good to know. Can you tell me something Swerve? As..agh...

As a last wish?”

Swerve shrugs again. He stares at the dripping blood. At the ugly, bubbling burns. At the burst vessels in his eye and the paths of blood from his bleeding nose. He looks at the broken and scorched and dying bloody mess.

He looks at Blurr.

And he thinks, until today, he didn't really love Blurr. Not with the posters and figurines. Not with the disdain and dislike.

He loved an image. And hated an image.

He reaches out and tries to touch Blurr's hand, but goes through it.

“I'm sorry. But we're both not really here. And I have to go.”

He can feel the cold metal around him, which is strange because he's standing in the middle of smoking and burning ruins

“But if it makes you happy, I guess you're my favorite character after all.”

Blurr doesn't answer. Swerve isn't sure he even heard him.

The feeling of metal around him grows sharper.

Someone shines a flashlight in his face.

Swerve blinks stupidly and tries to move away.

The unknown Autobot medic standing over him smiles happily and puts the flashlight away

“Welcome back. You've been in a coma Primus knows how long.”

The other medic to the side frowns

“You have zero tact.”

Swerve blinks his optics puzzled, raises his servo and for a while just stares at it like some movie character. All around him is an Autobot medbay. Metal walls. Metal instruments. And him. Metal.

Yes. Seems so. That's the way he's always been. That's right.

“Doc, you won't believe what kind of weird dream I had.”

___________

Swerve feels like he's going crazy.

He's standing in the middle of a hallway on one of the Autobot ships, and he's staring. shamelessly.

There's Prowl standing at the end of the hallway. And on his shoulder is...

“ JAZZ????”

Both bot and human turn around abruptly at his scream. And both look equally puzzled.

Jazz waves his hand

“Do I know you?”

Swerve is definitely going crazy. It's Jazz. The same one. From his...dream??? But he's real and tangible??? Sitting on Prowl's shoulder, talking and breathing and being seen by everyone not only Swerve????

“You're...real...?”

Jazz raises his eyebrows

“I am. Yes. Really Mech, you sound very familiar.

But I can tell you for a fact that I have not been friends with any Cybertronians before...”

This can't be, this can't be, this isn't....

It was a dream. The spawn of his TV series-addled mind. A hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't, was it?

But Jazz is here. And he disappeared from Earth. And now he's here.

And.

What the..

Swerve blurts out something like “sorry-sorry-see-you-later-now-I've got to go” and runs off.

“HEY DOC????”

The autobot, already familiar to him, flinches

“Primus...Swerve? Is something wrong?”

Swerve realizes that everything is about to either make sense or lose it completely.

“Tell me...is it possible to project a holoform...like...very far away?”

The Doctor tilts his head.

“Depends on power consumption. If you channel all the energy available in a frame, you can go very far. But that would send you into a...coma...if you...tried...Swerve, is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

“Doc do you know where Earth is?”

“Wha...no?”

Swerve chuckles nervously and bites his knuckles.

“I don't either. But I think I've been there...”

#tf mecha universe #Blurr #Swindle #Swerve #Jazz #Tailgate #Wheeljack #maccadam #Prowl #Jazzprowl happens for like two seconds

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juletheghoul · 13 days ago

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a/n: The premiere look was a literal gift from the Gods, truly fantastic stuff. With that said, of course I had to work on the next chapter of The General and his Girlwife. This isn't the end for them, there is still so much life for them and I have a whole inbox full of amazing asks (I promise I haven't forgotten about them!) to get through, and I always welcome any and all comments and questions or deep dives! Hope you enjoy 💕xo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy because he's a KING, lactation kink, creampie, Marcus gets emotional, pregnancy and baby stuff, childbirth and some graphic descriptions of pain, talks of infertility, **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

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The ritual had been completed, and a week later–life had gone back to normal. The two of you had vowed to put it out of your mind until the Gods made their intentions for you clear.

Marcus, however, was leaving; he'd been called on by the Emperor for a tour, and he had no choice but to accept.

You pouted, and he smiled.

“It is only for a short time, my love. Barely a moon's turn and I will be back in this house, and your arms.” He smiled despite your obvious displeasure, giddy with the way you clutched so greedily at him.

“I wish to follow you Marcus, I do not wish to stay here without you.” You buried your face into his neck, taking in his comforting scent greedily. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding him close while his own wrapped tightly around your waist.

“And I wish nothing more than for you to be with me, but you cannot. It is not a place for women and I would not have my beautiful,” his hands cupped your cheeks, pressing kisses to your mouth between words, “lovely, tempting wife there pulling at my attention, as well as that of the bolder men in my company.”

You sigh, knowing he would not change his mind.

“Very well. I will content myself alone.” Your tone made him laugh, and you smiled into his skin, well aware that you sounded more akin to an unruly child than a grown, married woman.

“You are spoiled, terribly misbehaved and spoiled.” His hands slipped down and grabbed at your backside, “and it is entirely my fault.”

“Yes it is.” You jut your chin out and he pressed a kiss to it. “When do you leave?”

“Preparations are being made and I depart in three days time.” He pressed another kiss to the back of your hand, smiling as he led you to sit with him. “Once I am back, I shall plan something for us. How does that sound?”

“And what shall you plan?”

“We could travel, we could go to the sea and take in the fresh air, we could do anything my love. Whatever makes you happy.” His eyes shone with the same love you felt in your very bones for him.

“I only need you for that.”

The intensity of the craving made you frown, pulling your attention from the task of refilling the cellars of your house. One minute you had been taking note of how much grain there was, how much olive oil and wine was in your stores and the next, the desire for figs and honey and fresh, ripe pomegranate was so strong it almost moved your feet towards the kitchens. You stopped yourself though, running through your mental tally of days since your last blood and willing yourself to stay calm.

“Girl, be a dear and fetch me figs and honey if you would.” You pat her hand softly, unable to stop yourself from softening the imagined blow of asking for something instead of fetching it yourself. Her eyes widened for a moment, before nodding.

“Yes Domina.” She ran off, and you ignored the looks of the women who were helping you with your accounts.

“Shall we call for a Medicus, Domina?” The eldest of them whispered in your ear, one who has always treated you with a softness that at times felt motherly, her work roughened hand landing soft on your shoulder. Nerves fluttered in your belly, a deep seeded fear threading through your very being as the memory of your loss filled your mind's eye so vividly it set your hands to shaking. But another emotion emerged, a fragile thing coloured with a hope so big it didn’t fit within your body. Without Marcus, it was difficult to navigate the swirl of different feelings fighting for dominance.

“Domina, let me call for the Medicus.” Gently, she guided you to sit, silently dismissing the staff tending to you. “I think it best you rest while we wait, I shall have him brought here to look you over.”

“Yes, yes that is what we must do. I—yes I should rest a while.” With a shaky breath you smiled a smile that did not reach your eyes, and headed towards your chamber.

When the medicus finally did arrive, the older woman held your hand, doing much to calm you in the absence of Marcus. Silently the man went about his business, checking and prodding and looking for the signs that you tentatively prayed were there.

When he raised his head and smiled with a nod, both you and the woman cried with joy.

He was eager to step foot in his house, eager to be reunited with his heart.

His blessedly peaceful campaign had gone well, the Emperor was in good spirits and for the first time in years, there was peace. He couldn’t wait to tell her how it had gone, couldn’t wait to press his kisses upon her skin.

The house was surprisingly quiet when he finally arrived, the guards were hushed, his usual attendants were nowhere to be seen and his love was not where he thought he’d find her.

When he reached their shared room things were stranger still, the gauzy linens were drawn across the windows, blocking out most of the sunlight. Incense was burning, and for a moment he feared she’d fallen ill while he’d been gone.

“My love? What is the matter?” She reclined in their bed, propped up on a nest or pillows, and her face lit up to see him. She was glowing, a soft sheen shining on her brow and for a moment he thought it might be a fever but she looked well, she looked beautiful.

“I am well Marcus, truly.” She beckoned to him, arms outstretched and he all but ran to her side, sitting close to hold her hands. “We have been blessed, my love, truly blessed.” Tears shone in her eyes, he frowned for a moment until she placed his hand on her belly, and then it felt like his heart would jump out of chest.

“You are sure?” He brought his face to her womb, pressing his lips to it while trying not to fall apart with joy. “Truly?”

“It has been confirmed, I am with child. You are to be a father, Marcus.” She shone with life, with vitality and was as beautiful as a Goddess, he couldn’t handle the joy in his heart. He wept into her belly, thanking the Gods, and praying for the health of the love of his life, and the child inside her.

Every single day of those first few weeks greeted you with fear.

Every free minute, every spare thought was filled with silent prayer, offerings were made to appease the Gods, you ate only the foods suggested by the Medicus. Marcus let you do nothing except rest, and take short, slow walks throughout the house. He was thorough with the instructions given to him, he rubbed the special oil onto the skin of your belly to help with the growth, he never left your side, he was gentle in all things.

Once you started to show, and the most dangerous period had passed, even you started to shed some of the fear. Hope, and joy filled the house and everyone shared in it. The women were eager to have a little one running around, Marcus grew more and more excited at the prospect and filled your house with things for the child. Toys and a special chair, robes and little tunics to dress them in.

“Have you thought of a name?” You asked him as he rubbed at your tired feet, easing the ache as your stomach seemed to grow before your very eyes.

“I have, but I haven’t really given any option much thought. It is best to wait until the child is born I think. And you? Is there a name you favour?”

“Well, a boy would definitely be named Marcus after you.” You smiled, imagining a miniature of him.

“And for a girl?”

“We could honour the Gods, name her Diana, I also think Aurelia is quite pretty, or Acacia and name her after her father.” Your smile grew, imagining a little darling with his soft waves, his square feet.

“Fine choices.” He smiled, moving to the other foot and you sighed, soothed by his touch.

“I will pray for a boy, to carry your name and carry on your legacy.” He shook his head.

“Give me a clever girl with your eyes, and your smile and I shall be happier than any other man alive.” He pressed a kiss to your shin. Tears sprung to your eyes, it was happening a lot of late, the baby made your emotions run rampant, his sweetness didn’t help.

“There there my love, no tears.” He soothed with gentle tone, well aware of your sensitivity, yet still as patient and loving as always.

“I cannot help it, the joy is overwhelming, the love for you, for this little being is too much to fit inside me.” You held your belly, tears falling to dampen the skin of your chest. He moved to sit beside you, and gathered you into his arms, once again soothing you beyond words could explain.

“I understand, I have been so blessed in this life it is difficult not to dwell and fear the worst. Let us just enjoy our good fortune, no more tears, it pains me to see you cry.” He pressed his lips to your forehead and you nodded silently, throat aching with emotion.

With a tenderness that only made the ache stronger, he kissed the tear stains on your skin, smiling softly. When he got to your mouth, it was a reassuring press, a silent promise to you and to the life growing inside. It helped, but your mood, your appetites changed like the winds these days and the tears turned to desire for him so fast it made your head spin.

Your tongue breached his mouth, corrupting the softness of his kiss and pulling a groan from somewhere in his chest. His hand pressed softly to your womb, while his mouth claimed yours in the softness of your shared bed.

“Marcus-” It came out half moaned, half pleading.

“Yes my love?” He breathed the words into the skin of your neck, his tongue mapping out the lines he liked to travel with his kisses, unsurprised at how quickly your passion for him was stirred with the child inside.

“Do you desire me? Do you wish for me to give you my cock?” Slowly, he exposed you, pulling the special tunic made to accommodate your belly off. The large swell, the heavy weight of your breasts, the swelling in your feet–all of the changes in your body had made you fear he would no longer find you desirable. He’d been quick to correct that assumption however.

With your lip caught between your teeth, you nodded.

Carefully, he turned you on your side, supporting the weight of your belly with pillows and linens before divesting himself of his own layers. The sight of him, skin golden and cock hardening turned your cunt to liquid. He smiled at the open desire on your face, positioning himself so he straddled the thigh resting on the bed, while lifting and holding the other, lining himself up at the mouth of your cunt.

“Are you comfortable?” Your heart swelled for a moment, smiling at him before nodding.

He took himself in hand, stroking a few times to bring himself to full mast before finally sinking in to the hilt.

“So wet.” He whispered almost to himself, eyes focused on the way your cunt swallowed his length whole, coating it in your arousal. “My pretty little wife, with her pretty little cunt.” His fingers gripped at your thigh while he found his rhythm, angling himself to find the spot–

You keened, gasping as he huffed out a satisfied laugh.

“There it is, that is the spot, yes?” He focused, hitting it like a bullseye while you clutched at the linens, too blissed out to answer but it mattered not, he knew. Sweat beaded on his brow, the muscles in his arms gleamed in the low candlelight as he panted out his exertion. His beauty so obvious, so highlighted there as he loved you that it filled the little space in your belly not filled with his child with the beating of butterfly wings.

Your fingers reached out to him, needing to feel him surround you and he smiled, leaning forward to catch the tips of them with his lips while his hips moved faster. Your arousal pooled at the base of him, soaking the fine patch of hair between your legs, as well as the curls at the base of his cock.

With a crooked grin, he reached between your legs to swirl his thumb around your swollen clit and the climax is so close your legs start to tremble.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop Marcus–” It was so close, building like a fire in your hips, spreading like lightning throughout your veins, dripping from where you were joined onto the linens of your bed. Your hand crept down, joining his to press his fingers closer, to guide his movements faster until you burst around him, squeezing him so tight he groaned and slowed his steady thrusting to a grind, his groin pressed tight. Your cunt fluttered around him, pleasure blooming and flooding your body like good, strong wine and it only intensified when he started moving again, chasing his own end while you floated on your cloud. It only took him a few thrusts before he filled you, fucking his seed deep.

His chest rose and fell with each rapid breath, smiling and laughing softly as he pulled himself out.

Your combined passion smeared against your hip when he surged forward to claim your mouth in a kiss. His big hand curled around the curve of your neck softly, such a contrast to how it gripped your thigh. It slid down, smooth as silk before squeezing at your breast.

“Oh!’ The warm drip shocked you, the milk beaded at your nipple before dripping down the valley between your breasts. The bigger shock though, was how quickly he chased it with his tongue. The arousal only flared again, sharp as a knife at the moan he let out. With an almost drunk expression, he wrapped his lips around the peak, and tasted your milk straight from the source.

“Good?” Your fingers threaded through his sweat-soaked waves, cradling him close while he drank deep. His expression was almost sheepish, almost ashamed when he pulled away.

“I do not know what has come over me,” He licked at the tip, staring at the other breast longingly, “I had to taste you, it’s so sweet.” He dipped his head again, drinking from the other breast, deep, strong pulls that only made the red hot coal of desire within you burn even brighter than before. When he pulled away he was breathing hard, shocked at his own reaction.

“Did I hurt you?” He licked at sensitive peaks again, filling your brain with a fog of lust so strong you could barely think.

“No, not at all, it feels really good.” You pulled him closer, urging him to drink, while guiding his hand between your legs. With a knowing grin, he obeyed.

You knew from the moment your eyes opened in the morning, that the baby would come. There was an ache, a pulsing, a violence to its movements within your womb. The child was as impatient to emerge, as you were to give birth and finally have it whole and healthy in your arms.

With a sigh, you tried to adjust yourself, smiling as Marcus pressed himself closer in his sleep, his big hand holding the swell.

“I think today is the day, hmm?” You whispered to your belly, it kicked hard enough to make you wince.

“Gods above, I felt that one, this child will be strong.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pulling another sigh from you. “How are you feeling?”

“I think it will be today, it feels like the baby has moved lower.” You did your best to rise, groaning before he all but lifted you to sit upright.

“I will make the preparations, the midwife is ready and waiting for our summons.” He rose quickly, making you laugh with his urgency.

“Peace Marcus, it will not be right this second, but I do feel it mightl be today.” You stood, gingerly padding towards him, waving away his frown of concern. “Walking is good for me, it will help me with my labours.” He still frowned, meeting you halfway and squeezing you as tightly as he could without causing you pain.

“I will be with you, at your side the whole time.” There was a small tremble in his voice you did not recognize, a nervous aura about him that seemed to bolster you. How curious, you thought, that his moment of fear, is my moment of courage.

“The midwife and her attendants will be there, most men wait until the child is born–”

“I am not most men. I will be with you, holding your hand and wiping at your brow. This is a battle I cannot fight for you, but no one will keep me out of that room.” He pressed his face into your neck and you softened, his fear was justified. Many children did not survive their coming into the world, many mothers died alongside them. You said nothing, nodding softly as his fingers dug into your robes.

The sun made its way across the sky and as it did your pains grew stronger. Cramps painful enough to steal your breath would squeeze at you like a fist for a few minutes before releasing you. The midwife walked with you, she took note of how much time passed between each attack, readying the birthing stool as well as her oils, her sponges and enough water and linens to be able to tend to both you and the baby.

The sun was kissing the horizon when the water came, spilling all over your feet like a tidal wave and sending Marcus into a cold panic.

The midwife did her examinations while your body ripped itself in two. With barely contained screams, and sweat dripping down your brow you got into position, doing your best to focus on your breathing while Marcus kept his word, silently wiping at your brow, and letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you could.

“It must be now, push.” The midwife and one of her girls were in place, moving your robes aside to have access and you did what you had to do. You pushed.

It was agony.

It was liquid fire burning its way through your body, this baby wasn’t being born, it was clawing and tearing its way out of you.

Marcus whispered into your ear, encouragingly, lovingly, patiently guiding you to breathe, to not give up. He reminded you how strong you were, how loved and how soon it would be over. How could it be over soon? It felt as though this pain had been with you at your own birth, all of your life this pain has been here, it had to be. Hours, days? You could not tell how long it had been.

You cried, you begged for it to end, you willed it to be so; shouted and screamed that it hurt too much, that it was too hard and that you could not do it. You told them that the baby would not come, that you could not do this, you were not strong enough. You screamed that this would surely kill you, you would tear in two and die.

“You will not die, you can do this, my love. Bear down, and push.” His gaze was steely, focused and firm and it filled you with courage.

With a sob and a scream you pushed, and pushed. You pushed so much you thought you’d burst and then pushed more still. Until finally, blessedly, the baby came out.

“You have done it! You have done it my love, my beautiful, strong, courageous girl, you have done it!” Tears were in his eyes as he held onto your limp form, but he was not looking at you.

“Why does the child not cry?” It felt like you’d drunk too much wine, the relief from the pain so great you would faint soon, yet still, silence. There was a lot of movement, a terrifying moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity and despite Marcus all but carrying you and laying you back to rest, no one met your eye.

“Answer me, Marcus, why does the baby not cry? Give it to me! Is it a boy? Is it a girl?” Tears flowed and fear swelled like bile crawling up your throat until a cry loud enough to hurt your ears sounded and the entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“She is a beautiful, healthy and whole baby girl.” Swaddled and screaming, the bundle was placed at your breast. Marcus sobbed, openly and loudly into your shoulder, his big hand covering her tiny head while you looked at her in awe. She had so much hair, such strong lungs, such a force that you laughed, still crying.

“Yes my little love, I know, you fought so hard.” You pressed a kiss to her little brow, doing your best to soothe her.

She took to nursing your breast quickly, a good sign the midwife said and while she and her girls set everything to rights, you could focus on nothing but her. Her little hands clutched at you, taking a few greedy pulls before falling asleep, milk smeared all over her perfect face.

“She is utterly perfect, she has your hands.” Marcus lay beside you, his gaze on her as though entranced.

“She has your hunger.” You smiled, the euphoria eclipsing everything. It was so hard to stay awake though, the birth had taken so much out of you.

“Give her to me and rest. I will be here with you.” With gentle hands, he took her, managing to put her onto his chest without waking her and before he’d even fully settled, sleep had claimed you.

She had fought, both of them had.

His girls had battled, fought tooth and nail and had come through victorious, though his love had paid a price. She’d bled, bled enough that it had frightened him, chilled him to the bone and when the midwife pulled him aside he already knew what she would say. There would be no more children, another birth might kill her.

He mourned the fact that his daughter would have no siblings, no other children to fill this house alongside her but his wife would live. That was all that mattered.

He watched her as she slept, glowing still, if a little wan, weakened by her labours but beautiful all the same. He could no longer imagine living this life without her, he could not see the joy in anything without her there beside him and now his daughter held the other half of his heart. She was the fruit of their union, she was the parts of them that would live on, the living embodiment of his good fortune and just the sight of her filled his eyes with tears.

He pressed his lips to her little brow, smiling at the furrow in them when he jostled her, so like her mother it made him cry all the harder.

This was all that mattered, his entire world was in this bed and he was loath to ever be separated from them again.

He didn’t know which name to call her, they’d never settled on anything. Acacia didn’t seem right, how could he name her after himself when she so resembled her mother already? Aurelia, that was pretty, Diana too. He would wait though, let her have the last say. He basked in the glow of the candles, in the comfort of his wife’s warm weight beside him, in the small weight at his chest and said another silent prayer in thanks.

She was so big already, three whole months and her growth never ceased to amaze you. She still looked tiny in her fathers arms, his broadness compared to her small body always made you smile, especially because for her he was less the brutal Roman General, and more of a soft, lump of honey. She ruled him implicitly, her every cry, her every happy sound was the reason he breathed.

“My love, I need to change her, those little robes are covered in milk.” There was no bite in your words, there could be no anger or annoyance in you at his adoration of her.

“Yes, yes you are right, she must be changed.” He smiled, bringing her to you. She was tired, yawning and fussing, fighting off her midday slumber with a fierceness that made you laugh.

“Yes yes I know Diana, one moment and then your father will rock you.” You cooed at her, making quick work of the change and taking the opportunity to wipe her down with a damp cloth before returning her where she slept the best, her fathers chest.

Once he took her and sat at his favoured chair, she was out, little fist curled under her chin. This was his favourite, and yours. Watching her sleep peacefully, safe and loved within your arms, or his.

“I never grow tired of studying her, already her little face is changing.”

He pressed his lips to her head, breathing in the clean, baby milk smell of her.

“She will have your hair, already it curls when I wash it.” You thread your fingers through the fine wisps of it softly, smiling to imagine her older with curls flowing down her back.

“She has your look, your look exactly. I am still in awe that we have created something so perfect.” His hand took yours and brought it to his lips, you bent to press yours to his forehead.

“As am I, how blessed we are to have her, to have each other.”

When he slipped into bed, you pressed your fingers to your lips, eyes wide to warn him.

“She is finally asleep, we must not wake her.” Your whisper was frantic, and he nodded.

“Yes my lady, I will be silent as the grave.” He pulled you close, whispering in your ear before pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.

“So long as you can keep your voice down when I love you.” His hands pawed at you but you were so tired, it was hard to reconcile the intense want for him, with the ache of the day settling heavy on your bones.

“My love, my mind desires this, but my body is so tired.” You pouted at him, mildly upset to deny him.

“Shall I use my mouth? You can lay back and relax, I can take care of you—my lovely girl deserves pleasure, and rest.” He smiled, undeterred and you could not help but smile.

“And it does not bother you that I will just lay here? Most likely asleep before you have come up for air?” His grey waves were so soft when you raked your fingers through them.

“It pleases me to please you, you are the mother of my child and the love of my life, I would do anything for you.” He kissed your fingers before spreading your legs wide with the breadth of his shoulders. “Do you wish for me to stop?” He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and then the soft patch of hair at your mound, before kissing the lips of your sex.

“No, I do not wish for you to stop.” You spread your legs a little wider and his smile grew bigger, letting a big glob of his own spit fall onto your sex before chasing it with his tongue.

He is focused, honed in with his gaze and with his tongue on your clit, flat wide licks from where your arousal drips up to the bundle of nerves and it’s like a spike of arousal pierced the very heart of you every time he swiped his tongue over it. Warm, wet and perfect, he swirled around it in time with your heartbeat, fanning the embers burning in your belly for him.

The fingers that softly scratched at his scalp, now curled into the waves holding him in place as you struggled to keep your mouth shut, but he made it so difficult. The ache building as his brow creased with concentration and his own excitement. His own hand crept down and grasped his cock, stroking at it in time with the delicious circuit of his tongue. That he gained so much pleasure from this only heightened your own, and soon the knot tightened.

Muscles clenched, all of your body a taut string waiting to snap with every pass, every strong lick. You pinched at a nipple, pulling his eyes up to find yours and he let out a low groan, the vibration of it pushed you over the edge with a silent gasp, and empty rhythmic clenches around nothing. He bestowed a final, filthy kiss to your overstimulated clit before moving quickly to get into position. With the shine of exertion glinting on his golden skin he knelt between your legs, pumping at himself furiously before silently, violently spilling onto your still fluttering sex. Hot, milky splashes of him covering it while he gripped at your thigh hard enough to bruise.

He caught his breath, smearing himself in his own mess between your legs past the point of discomfort. He was so beautiful like this, with the flush of passion lighting up his cheeks and his ears, spreading down his chest.

He smiled, winking at you before he grabbed the cloth from the basin and cleansing the mess he had made. You wanted to hold and be held by him, but by the time he was done, you were already asleep.

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freedomfireflies · 8 months ago

Text

Our Place*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where Harry invites you back to his apartment for the first time and it doesn't go as planned.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, angst (happy ending), use of a safe word

Harry’s apartment is nicer than you expected.

The furniture is cozy, the décor is unique, and his bedroom is well kept. He even has fresh flowers on his kitchen table.

It surprised you, even though it shouldn’t. Harry doesn’t seem like a dirty guy, but truthfully, you were still shocked to find he had both sheets on his bed and no clothes on the ground.

You take in the tiny details of his life as he kisses down your neck and slips his fingers into your jeans. He’d wrangled you onto the bed only seconds after you walked through the door. He didn’t want to give you a tour of the whole apartment. Just the bedroom. Which you were more than all right with.

He’s oddly desperate, given the circumstances. Maybe he always is, but tonight feels different. Tonight feels…hopeful.

“Shit, Tink,” he groans into your ear when he feels how wet you’ve become. “S’this just because you rode my bike?”

You gently swat the back of his head. “Stop it.”

“What?” He noses under your jaw. “Felt you squirming back there, Princess. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice how you were trying to get yourself off to the vibrations?”

You wince. You didn’t even realize you’d been doing it. “I was not, I was just…the adrenaline was a lot—”

“Uh-huh.” He laughs and something about it sounds like honey. “S’fine, baby. You know I don’t mind.”

“Well…I wasn’t—”

“Sure. Can I fuck you now?”

You huff. “That’s why I’m here.”

He rips your jeans down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder and somewhere onto the floor. The warm air feels good and it’s then that you realize he’s right. You’re soaked, all the way through your panties.

But instead of taunting you further, he only tugs them aside and pulls his cock out.

“I think…” he murmurs as he lines himself up, “…it’s high time I got you pregnant.”

Your mouth falls open in a moan as he drops a glob of spit onto your clit and pushes in.

You’ve noticed that his breeding kink makes an appearance more often than not these days. Which you aren’t exactly complaining about. After all, you have one, too. Mostly thanks to him.

But it surprises you all the same as he starts to work himself in and out of your tight cunt, whispering the filthiest promises.

“Think I won’t do it, hm? I will. Swell this pretty belly with my cum. S’what it was made for, wasn’t it? To take me. Have my babies. Gonna stretch you so pretty…get your tits leaking. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you, Princess?”

You try to respond but how can you? You feel as though you’ve been fucked dumb. Unable to hear anything past the pounding of blood in your ears.

His glasses start to slip down his nose. He almost always takes them off—they’re mostly for reading anyway. But you like the look of them. Like how studious it makes him seem...how scandalous.

So, you nudge them back up. Desperate to see him exactly the way he always is.

He smirks. “You all right there, Tink?”

You nod weakly. “Yes…yeah. M’fine.”

“Thinking about what I said?” He kisses down your chest. “Thinking about calling me Daddy for real? Having our babies?"

Our. A word you didn’t think belonged to you. Because Harry doesn’t belong to you. And you don’t belong to him. You’re two separate people. Even when you fuck, he’s in his world and you’re in yours. You weren’t meant to be an “our.”

You chalk this up to a slip of the tongue. Something you say when you're threatening to breed someone. And you choose not to give it any power. Because you know what happens if you do.

The fucking gets harder. Faster. He’s chasing a high. In fact, he's been chasing it since earlier in the bar when he saw you with another man. And you know he’s trying to hold off for you, but he wants to cum. He wants to paint your belly with his seed and fuck it back in. Wants to make good on his word even if he shouldn’t.

Your nails scratch down his back, damp and covered in sweat. But his muscles feel good in your hands and you whimper as you hike a leg over his hip and bury him in your pussy.

In your lust-filled haze, your attention drifts. Head rolling to the side as you focus on the soft grunts in your ear.

But then, your eyes find something on his dresser.

Your heart stops.

In fact, everything stops. Your breathing, your noises, your gentle rolls to meet his thrusts.

It all stops. And you whisper, “Red.”

He quickly falls still. A rather impressive feat given how anxious he is to find release. From 100 to 0 in only seconds, and you almost feel guilty as you sense him glance at you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks through labored inhales. “What…what happened, what do you want me to do?”

But you don’t look back. You keep your focus on the piece of furniture in the corner of his room and you will yourself not to cry.

Eventually, he looks, too. And when he realizes, the air in the room shifts.

He lets out a soft sigh and drops his hand to your hip. Squeezing it once. “Tink…”

You say nothing. Tears are pooling behind your lashes and your chest feels tight.

“Tink,” he tries again, firm. His grip tightens on your waist. “Tinkerbell—"

“She’s beautiful,” you breathe. You take in a soft gasp. “Oh, my god, Harry, she’s…she’s so beautiful.”

He’s quiet for only a moment. “Yeah. She was,” he agrees gently.

You can’t take your eyes away from the picture frame. The guilt is so much worse now than it was before. Your heart is in your throat, in your ears, lying on the floor next to your jeans.

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. In his bed—their bed—fucking the man she died loving. While he promises to get you pregnant and give you his babies.

And how is he so calm? How the fuck is he looking at her picture while still inside of you instead of screaming at you to leave his apartment? How can he be okay with cheating on her with you?

“Princess,” he says again, and grabs onto your jaw to force your focus back to him. “Talk to me, what do you want me to do?”

Your lashes flutter. “What?”

“You said red,” he reminds you. “Which means we stop. But I need to know if you’re in pain or if I can pull out?”

It takes a moment for you to blink the fog from your mind and understand. But when you do, your stomach wrenches. “I…wait, shit, I…I want you to finish, I just…I saw her photo, and—”

“I know,” he interrupts softly. He gives you a gentle smile. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been there. But red means stop. And we’re gonna honor that. No matter why you said it.”

You whimper. “Harry, wait—”

“I’m gonna pull out,” he says, ignoring your plea. “And then we’re gonna talk—”

“Harry…Harry come on, you can’t—”

But he does. Even though he winces as slips himself out, teeth gritting together to keep from coming.

But once he’s out, he delicately closes your legs, and sits beside you. “Okay,” he begins. He keeps your eyes on him. “What’s going on up there?”

He nods at your forehead and you want to cry. “Nothing, I just…I…”

“You’ve never seen her before.”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

“And you weren’t expecting to see her now,” he says for you. “Especially when we were fucking.”

You sniffle. “It felt like we were cheating. Like I was helping you hurt her. And then…and then I got worried that maybe you only brought me back here so you could pretend I was her. You know? With all the stuff about…about babies…and us, and…and—”

“Okay, breathe,” he instructs. He cups your cheek and presses his thumb to your trembling lips. “Breathe, Tink. Slow.”

Forced to obey, you suck in shallow gasps for air until your heart rate slows and your head doesn’t feel so dizzy.

Pleased, he says, “I know you’re not her, Tink. I don’t want you to be.”

Your expression softens.

“I brought you here because you’re the only person I want to see in the place she once lived,” he continues. His voice is strong. Steady. Like he’s given this far more thought than you anticipated. “After she died, I left it the same. I didn’t touch anything. Not the furniture she picked out. Not the dumb, cute little bowls she insisted we buy. Not the coffee pot that doesn’t work but she loved because she swore it made her coffee taste better. None of it.”

The tears fall down your cheeks, fast and without mercy.

“I didn’t invite people over because I wanted to pretend she still lived here,” he tells you. “I wanted it to still be our place. Not just mine. And the thought of bringing someone else back here felt…wrong.”

You grab onto his wrist to keep his hand close and he smiles.

“And then you,” he murmurs, dipping down to nuzzle his nose against yours. A display of affection you’d never expect from him. “And yeah, you’re annoying, and I hate you. But she would have fucking loved you.”

You nearly sob.

“I want you here,” he says. “I want to talk about getting you pregnant and having our babies. I want to fuck you on this bed and I want to make you cry for a very different reason.”

You laugh through the tears.

“Look, I don’t believe in guardian angels and an afterlife and all that shit,” he admits. “But sometimes, I swear she sent you to me. And yeah, I probably should have moved the picture first. That was my fault, I haven’t had anyone in here in a while. But…you’re not her, Tink. You’re you. And that’s exactly who I want you to be.”

You can’t stop the next wave of emotion as you sling your arms around his neck and pull him close. He chuckles in your embrace but doesn’t fight you. He holds you, too. For as long as you both need.

“I hate you, too,” you finally whisper.

He smiles.

“Harry?”

“Mm?”

“…can we please finish now?”

He leans back to see you. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” You kiss him. “After all, you promised to get me pregnant. And I can’t leave until you do, Daddy."

The groan against your lips is delicious and devious.

And it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“As you wish.”

WHY DID THIS MAKE ME WANT TO CRY!!! ALSO HI I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

Previous Part:

~ The one where Harry gets jealous (again)

~ Full 404 Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin

@justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda

@vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach

@lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana

@dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley

@myalovesharry @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave

@nuggetdean @triski73 @finelinesss

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ktownshizzle · 3 months ago

Text

Wild & Free | Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Warnings: Mild angst, cursing lol, mentions of sex, pining and lots of it, reader is insecure, couple of idiots truly, covid didn’t happen, one mention of recreational gambling (we're in Vegas!), canon moments I botched for my own use, ginger Yoongi is a warning in and of itself, angry Yoongi, cliches ‘cos meh, possible inaccuracies about Las Vegas - been there once, but details used in the story are just from research. Also, I get that Las Vegas weddings might seem tacky to some. Coming from a background of traditional, elaborate ceremonies, the characters in this story are genuinely surprised by this simpler approach. After all, a wedding is really just about you and your partner, and that’s the essence we’re exploring here. ♡ If you can get on board with that, then let's head to the Tunnel of Love! Viva Las Vegas! 🙂

Word Count: 7.2k (approx. 30 mins.)

Posting date: August 31, 2024

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

"Yoongi, marry me!" You shout at the top of your lungs, earning laughs from the people around you.

On the other side of the room, a couple of other people shout the same catchphrase, including Kim Taehyung, who seems to get the most kick out of it out of all the members.

Coerced to do one of those Tik Tok dance challenges, Min Yoongi stands in front of the room, hides his face behind his hands and you watch in delight as he awkwardly sways his hips side to side. More cheers erupt and two seconds after he decides he was done.

"Hajimaaaa!" Your friend says to no one and everyone, cheeks burning as he stalks back to the chair he was occupying across yours.

You push his beer bottle towards him, "Good job, gramps."

"Fuck off," he says with no real bite, taking a long swig off his drink to cool off his reddened cheeks.

It's great to finally get some down time with the crew. After such a fast-paced, high production tour, everybody needed to blow off some steam. This Korean BBQ restaurant off the Strip was the perfect venue to get the team together for samgyupsal and drinks. The vibes are, as the kids say, immaculate.

You are already sufficiently buzzed so you sit down as Seokjin takes his turn to do the challenge. He really seems to be more into it than the man currently giving you a look.

"I heard you." He narrows his eyes at you almost accusingly.

"What? It's the new viral catchphrase," you shrugged. "Everybody and their grandma is saying it these days."

"Not their grandma."

"You should be flattered."

Stop, you thought he would say. But his response catches you off guard.

"Only ‘cause you said it."

And he has the audacity to lick his bottom lip, a ghost of a smirk forming.

Fuck. Your throat dries up. When did it get so hot here?

“And in case you’re wondering…” he leans forward, a dopey-ass grin now on his face. “The answer is yes.”

Record scratch.

Did he really just-

Thankfully, you recover.

“Stop playing,” you say, trying to sound casual. But your face probably betrays the internal turmoil happening in your brain. You fear the day will come that he will have caught on to the unshakeable something you have been harboring for the better part of the last decade.

See, there’s always been an unspoken tension between you and Yoongi, something neither of you ever addressed or acted upon. Perhaps, in your younger days, there were moments when you felt your friendship was on the verge of becoming something more. But then he debuted as an idol, and things took off, and you were robbed of time. With his group’s growing popularity and you managing his personal career, the possibility of exploring anything beyond friendship and your work rapport became even more distant.

You feel like a bug under a microscope the way he observes you with a lopsided grin and while you try to hold his gaze, this clown interrupts.

"If y'all done eye-fucking each other, some of us are heading back." A drunk Park Jimin says with a mischievous grin, eyes crinkling like crescents. You could almost throw up.

Your eyes shift back to Yoongi and he just blinks in that blank way he does and bends to collect his bag from under his chair, completely ignoring his bandmate.

‘Fuck you,’ you mouth to Jimin hastily. Just enough time before Yoongi emerges with his backpack and your tote, which he already slung on his own shoulder.

You try to take it from him, but he waves you off.

"We're in bus 2," Jimin sings-songs and walks off, looking every bit the trouble-maker.

Thing is, you made the mistake of confiding in Jimin once, last year. You got drunk after getting dumped by some guy you met on Bumble three dates down, though it really was the sting of learning that Yoongi took one of Psy’s backup dancers out for coffee, even if it was just casual, that pushed you off the edge and into a bar in Hannam Intersection. Coincidentally, Jimin was there with that cute idol from Shinee and some other guys, but he joined you when he saw you looking like shit.

After learning about your long-standing crush (thank God you did not drop the L-bomb), Jimin would occasionally tease you, much to your chagrin. He’s careful not to push things too far, but it’s clear he sees himself as a bit of a cupid. You keep telling him that nothing will come of it, but he just won’t let up.

You are scared for things to change between you and Yoongi, not when everything is just how it’s supposed to be.

Not when you believe in your heart that if anything would have happened, it already should have.

And you would snuff the last embers of the torch that you keep holding out for him if only you knew how.

"Drive-thru weddings?" Yoongi enunciates in English, with the slightest lisp that you have always found so endearing. As your tour bus passes by chapel after wedding chapel, he continues to wonder out loud. "People get married there?"

Namjoon turns his head to look at Yoongi from his seat in front. "Yeah, hyung. They don't even need to get out of their car. It's just like a McDonald's. But they get a marriage license instead of a burger."

“Really? And people do this? Like, randomly?”

“Yeah, some celebrities decided to do it that way, but I assume many people do, too. I mean, look how many we’ve passed already.” Namjoon says with a tiny grin, cheek dimpling.

"Mm." Yoongi hums and you're curious about that faraway look on his face as he stares outside.

“Are you interested?” You joke lamely, instantly regretting opening your mouth. Why do you keep propositioning him? You blame that ‘one for the road’ shot of soju you downed on the way out of the restaurant.

He studies your face, before he replies lowly, so only you can hear, “Are you asking?”

Fuck, he’s bold. He’s also a bit drunk, but everyone knows he can drink anyone under the table. You know this is not the first time he got weirdly flirty with you after one too many drinks, so you take it in stride.

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” Hoseok's voice booms from the back and with a chorus of laughs ringing inside the vehicle, you take that as a sign that this is definitely just the effect of being in Sin City.

A few beats after and you steal a glance at Yoongi, finding his gaze transfixed at a sign that read: "The Little White Wedding Chapel".

Last day of the Las Vegas tour and while you are glad it is almost done, your heart aches as you remember that this is also your last one, ever. Your 60-day notice is already running, having tendered your resignation a month after LA wrapped up.

As great of a job as it is, your heart seems to always be at odds because of the lingering feelings you have for Yoongi. Everyday, you find yourself trapped in the limbo of unspoken feelings and missed chances. The endless “what ifs” weigh you down, and you can’t summon the courage to confront them. It’s not anyone’s fault but your own, and you hoped that stepping away from this life might jumpstart your next chapter, as BTS is also about to embark on theirs.

With the group taking a break for solo projects and gearing up for their military service, it seemed like the perfect moment for you to explore something different, too. Maybe finally open that cafe you’ve always wanted. Maybe you can also meet somebody, especially since your eomma has been on your back even more lately about giving her a grandchild.

You weren't planning to sever ties with Yoongi entirely, or at all. There’s too much history between you two to just walk away from the friendship. But you were desperate to let go of the emotional baggage.

The thing is, you have not told anyone. Not even Yoongi. Especially not Yoongi. It is highly likely that he will try to stop you and press for reasons, and you can't tell him that you’re in love with him, can you? Just… no. What a fuckin’ cliche.

You don’t know when you will be ready to tell him the truth, but it needs to be soon.

You find him on the side of the stage, eyes locked in on his phone that he held with one hand and you already can tell he is watching a documentary with the way his face is screwed up in concentration. His ‘watching a cat video’ face was infinitely more smiley, that's for sure.

He lifts his sleepy eyes up as you approach, handing you a latte that he apparently picked up for you from that place across the street, because the coffee from the catering ‘tastes like shit.’

Before you can say thanks, Yoongi exclaims, “Omo! Michael Jordan got married there?”

Your confusion must be written all over your face, because he quickly explains, “You know in one of those drive-thru wedding chapels we saw the other night. Wow. I can't believe Jordan did that.”

He pauses the video and turns the screen toward you, revealing a white building decked out with all sorts of decorations reminiscent of Valentine's day. The way he looks at you, expectantly, makes you feel like you should share his excitement, but you're a bit stumped. “Yoongi-ah, why are you watching this?”

He fidgets with a sheepish grin. “Well, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Korean weddings can be so complicated, you know? Hyung was really frustrated with all the traditions at his wedding.” He shrugs, still looking a bit embarrassed but trying to stay casual. “Here, it seems like you just need the right person. And maybe some courage. Okay, a lot of courage. I just— I don’t know, I find it fascinating.”

He nods to himself, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Totally endeared, you hop to sit beside him on the stage, bump your shoulder with his, and say, “Go on, press play.”

The tiniest of frowns that has settled between his brows smoothes out and he angles the screen more towards you before resuming the video.

Turns out it really is fascinating (Omo! Joe Jonas also got married there! But wait, isn't he divorced now?), so you watch a few more clips, before soundcheck starts.

You’ve always known Yoongi to have massive hyperfixations. In fact, you’re not at all surprised when that night during the concert, he even cheekily says to the crowd during his ment, “Welcome to Las Vegas, with the drive-thru wedding.” And of course, the audience eats it up, those wearing Shooky headbands, veils or holding “Yoongi, marry me” signs end up being the loudest.

But while you’ve supported all his previous mini-obsessions (League of Legends, Dalgona coffee, woodworking) until he over-indulged to the point of almost flushing it out of his system, you are not quite sure how else to help him with this one.

Unless of course, you… hah, you wish.

The tour wraps up successfully. The boys have different group and individual schedules before they return to Seoul. For Yoongi, a shoot for his photofolio, and some b-roll content for his upcoming documentary was on deck for him, you, and his crew.

The drive up to the desert was pretty uneventful as mostly everyone was asleep. You arrive sometime in the afternoon and immediately get to work in order to catch the golden hour. Yoongi has disappeared into the makeup trailer and you busy yourself with checking the preps.

The theme was glamping. Though Yoongi would never admit that that was the concept he approved. He would most likely say something more deep and poetic, that the setting is a poignant portrayal of his growth as a person and a metaphorical exploration of his artistry… Or something like that.

Things were running a little later than you like, which always happens when you are doing shoots overseas, so you volunteer to help with the set design. Placing some of the props near the camper van, you take a second to decide whether to use the metal cup or the ceramic mug, when a sleepy voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Set looks great. Good job."

You turn your head to look at Yoongi and wow his hair is orange.

The color of his favorite citrus and of course he looks sexy as fuck. He smells phenomenal, too–like mandarins with a hint of spice. You are in so much trouble. Seems your mouth is filled with cotton the way you are unable to make a sound.

“Yah! I spent hours on this new hair, you're not going to say anything?” he whines with a small pout.

You snicker at his cute expression, reaching out to touch the ends of his hair very lightly else the glam team unnies might scold you. “You look like a cat.”

“Ugh,” he groans, walking away with what you now realize is a stick of marshmallows in his right hand.

“No, Yoongi, it's cute,” You follow him as he stops in front of the bonfire, roasting the marshmallows over it briefly before taking a bite, still not placated by your words.

You decide to put him out of his misery. “You look good. Like really good. ARMY would probably even say sexy.” You inwardly cringe at the last bit–using ARMY to voice out your inner thirst, really?

Nonetheless, Yoongi's reaction is priceless. His lips stretch into a thin line, chin dimpling as he pretends to not enjoy the compliment that he very well fished for.

“Ok quit acting like an emoji and let me take your photos for IG.” You take your phone out and snap a few pics of him posing with the marshmallow, some without it. A couple of him grinning, gummy smiles on display, and you know you need to keep some of these for yourself when the inevitable comes and you won't see his face everyday.

“C’mere,” he pulls you to his side, arm going around your shoulder. A whiff of his musk has you swooning which you hope he does not notice.

Your phone is taken. He snaps a few selfies of you both and tsks when he sees your lock screen.

“Tablo-hyung, still? You know he's literally married and has a kid, right?”

You make a face and snatch your phone from his grasp. “Yah! As if you're not an idol and your face is not the wallpaper of thousands of people.”

“I think you mean millions.”

“Ass.” You try to shove him, but his hand closes in on your phone again.

Swipes and taps later, he seems satisfied and your phone is handed back to you, before he walks off without so much as a goodbye.

What did he do?

Wait.

Tablo is gone.

And the tableau in his place is one of the photos you just took with him. Eyes twinkling, smiles identical. The picture of a seemingly perfect couple.

Oh, damn. You really are a goner.

You send the pic to Jimin a little later. His response was unwelcome.

Jimin: You two have literal heart eyes for each other. So cute.

You: Not helping.

Jimin: Just tell him how you feel.

You: Again, not helping.

Jimin: What's your plan?

You: Do you really wanna know?

You ring him. Might as well tell somebody.

In between layouts, Yoongi films interviews for some magazines. You have complete faith in him and his media relations skills at this point. Smart, thought-provoking Yoongi can wow any interviewer, sometimes to the point where numbers have been slipped inside his coat pocket. Thank God this one is on Zoom, ‘cause you can’t deal with something like that happening right now.

You caught wind of something that he said during the interview and you made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Sometimes, it feels like my life is just a sequence of obligations and schedules,” he tells the online reporter. “I can’t even remember the last time I made plans for myself. Being here in Las Vegas is refreshing. It’s like everyone is just living by their own rules. I don’t think I’m like that at all.”

"Do you want to be like that?" The reporter asks.

"Maybe..." he shrugs, sinking a bit lower on the chair he was on.

It was late and the crew was just winding down before packing up the set.

“How was your day?” he asks you with a soft smile. You can see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Not bad,” you say, taking a spot beside him on the picnic blanket that was still on set. He seems pensive.

“Did you ever think we would get this far?” he asks. “Couple of Daegu kids, now running around in America.”

“Who would've thought…” you say, observing him. His eyes were stoic, but you know he's got something else on his mind, something bothering him.

“You said something in your interview earlier.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Not bad per se, I just never heard you say it in an interview before. About not feeling like you can make your own plans. Like life has become a series of schedules.”

He hums and takes a sip of something from the mug he is holding. Your nose tells you it is definitely not hot cocoa.

“I’ve come to terms with it for the most part, you know,” he sighs looking out into the vastness. “But plans are good. Makes me feel like there is a point to all this.”

You follow his line of vision and sigh. You knew he was feeling a lot of stress lately. His life was not easy. You hate that you have to pile on top of it.

“We need to start planning D-day soon. It's going to be so busy with the album and the tour and all the content we have to make. Oh God, we might have to do fan calls, but I'm so embarrassed when I do it.”

You mimic his hum, getting disoriented with his use of ‘we’. He still doesn't know that word would be null and void soon.

“By the way, we gotta come up with a different name for the Youtube show. I can't pronounce it. Sich? Sush? Shit-”

“Suchwita,” you say, guilt settling in your tummy.

“...and we have that collab with Halsey for what’s that game again? Doom? No, Diablo! We used to play that before, remember? I think we might be doing a music video for that one.”

Just tell him. This would be the best time.

“Look, Yoongi I-”

“Thank you,” he suddenly says, in a tone so soft, and the way he punctuates it with your name makes your heart soar.

Your eyes snap to him, the slight pinks dusting his cheeks make him look like the teenage boy you met in music school.

“I’m not good at this - fuck, this is so awkward - umm but I've really been meaning to tell you that I appreciate you.” He continues, “You're really important to me.”

You try to fight back a smile at how elated you are, but can’t. And maybe he needs to see how happy this is making you. How happy he is making you.

In the years that you've known him there were two distinct moments that made you believe that just as you have been in love with him, maybe he was in love with you, too. And as you watch him rub his crinkled nose, trying to act chill but can't, you somehow convince your fickle heart that this might be the third.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, with all this talk about our ‘chapter 2’...”

“Yeah?”

“I know things are going to change, but I’m glad you’re still here. I honestly don't know what I'm doing half the time, but you, you give me direction,” he smiles, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you seriously thanking me for my constant nagging?”

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “I’m thanking you for being my friend.”

Oh. Ouch.

His lips keep moving and moving, and he is saying things with a fond smile, but your ears can’t register a single word. Except that single word: friend. Because, that’s all he sees you as, and that’s all you’ll ever be, and lest you need a reminder, that’s why you did what you did.

Disappointment cracks through your core and your lungs are suddenly devoid of air and you feel the urgent need to step away.

“Sorry Yoongi, I- I have to go.”

“Huh?” The light in his face fades, replaced by a frown and confused eyes that are watching your every move.

“Wait, did I say something? Tell me what's wrong.”

Don’t cry. Shit. Don’t cry.

“I've nothing to tell you.”

You grimace at how stiff you sounded but before you can rectify anything, your feet take you to the nearest trailer. You close the door and drop to your knees as uncontrollable sobs rack your body.

You rein yourself in after a few minutes, wiping your tears on the back of your sleeve. You fish your phone out from your pocket, the photo on your lock screen twisting the knife lodged in your heart.

You ring the first person on your recent contacts.

“I can’t do it, Jiminah.”

“What happened? Talk to me.”

You tell him how you were just talking and it was getting deep then he got sentimental and said thank you…

“For being his friend.”

A beat, then Jimin finally speaks. “He is such an idiot.”

“I can’t do this,” you say, with finality. “I’m going to finish this tour, but I’m really leaving. I can’t be around Yoongi anymore.”

You finally get a couple of days off and decide to dodge Yoongi after coming back from the desert. It’s oddly easy—he’s not seeking you out like he usually does. You left him hanging the last time you talked, and now you’re stumped about how to fix things. You and Yoongi never really fight, at least not seriously. You handle work stuff through Kakao, like sending over today’s recording schedule for the award show. He left you on read.

Jimin immediately calls out for you as you step inside the set. It was just one of the penthouse suites in the hotel you were staying in. You feel awkward as some eyes shift over to you as you barely had time to fix yourself, you just aren't in the mood.

“Hi,” you respond simply. “How's everything?”

Jimin glances over his shoulder, and you follow his gaze to find Yoongi staring blankly at the coffee table, a face of thunder.

“He knows. He heard you on the phone with me.”

Your heart immediately drops to your ass. “Shit.”

Jimin shrugs, a mixture of sympathy and amusement on his face. “Yeah, he’s pretty confused… and a little pissed.”

“Did you–”

“I would never,” Jimin interrupts quickly, holding up his hands. “It’s not my story to tell.” He pats your shoulder reassuringly. “Just talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You’re not sure if Jimin’s optimism is comforting or just making you more anxious. You’ve spent years imagining every possible outcome, every scenario where he finds out you felt something deeper. And most of those scenarios end in heartbreak.

Either way, you know you’ve got to face the storm brewing in Yoongi’s eyes.

The shoot goes on without a hitch. You and Yoongi avoid each other like the plague, so much so that one of the makeup unnies takes notice. You downplay it, not wanting to be the subject of workplace gossip.

The schedule wraps up and as you get ready to leave, there is a light tap on your shoulder.

“Hey noona,” Jake says, looking a bit nervous but flashing a tentative smile. “Umm, a bunch of us are heading out tonight. If you don’t have plans, you should join us.”

Jake’s one of the newer camera guys, and while he’s been nice—always greeting you and opening doors—he’s barely scratched the surface of what could be considered a friend. He’s not just polite; he’s actually pretty cute. You’ve never really hung out with him before, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to say no. It was one of the last nights you have in Las Vegas, and maybe, you should live a little.

“Ok. What time are we leaving?”

“Can we meet at the lobby by 10?”

Just as you’re about to respond, there’s a loud crash from the other side of the room. You catch a glimpse of Yoongi and Jin amidst a flurry of crew members rushing over. Whatever happened, it looks like it’s already being dealt with.

“10?” you repeat, still distracted by the commotion.

He nods.

“Got it,” you reply, trying to shake off your unease.

Jake adjusts his backpack and gives you another nod, his smile still lingering as he heads out. “Cool. See you tonight.”

“Ok…” you nod, a little dazed as you watch Jake fistbump one of the producers on the way out.

“Hot date?” Jimin appears out of nowhere, casually sipping his Americano. His grin is a little too knowing—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

“Not really. He just mentioned that a few people were planning to go clubbing and asked if I wanted to join.”

Jimin’s eyes light up. “So, he wouldn’t mind if we tagged along, right?”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

Yoongi lifts his wine glass at you, smiling and unbothered.

Is this him extending an olive branch?

“Hey, Danbi, Eunchae…” he says, his gaze drifting past you to the two girls from Design. They look momentarily stunned, then offer hesitant waves, clearly not accustomed to this rare gesture from the usually wordless Yoongi.

Seriously?

This asshole.

A knot of frustration tightens in your stomach. Not only is he acting like nothing happened, but he’s also playing it cool, like he’s completely unaware of how much this is getting under your skin.

You’re sad, but now you’re kinda pissed, too. And the worst part of it all, he knows he looks fine.

Ginger hair slicked back to reveal the fresh undercut, He’s wearing some black shirt and black pants, with Jordans you would guess, and you know if it was any other man wearing that, he would have been stopped at the door.

You shift the strap of your dress slightly, conscious under his taunting eyes. The little number was something hot you recently picked up, the kind that might end up on somebody's floor.

“Are you going over to them,” Jake asks casually, leaning closer to your ear.

“No,” you say, breaking eye contact with Yoongi and moving to the next table where the others were, with Jake following closely behind.

A chorus of hellos started as you reached the table. There were a couple of girls from Hair and Makeup and some of the videographers, too. As if on cue, a tray of colorful shots are suddenly placed on the center console. The night is about to begin.

Jake has been incredibly attentive so far, but the truth is, it’s someone else’s attention that you want. You are hyper aware of Yoongi’s presence and it’s like having an itch you couldn’t scratch.

You spot Yoongi by the bar, alone and absorbed in his own world. As usual, he's oblivious to the pair of women casting lingering glances in his direction.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and make your way towards him. You notice his shoulders tense and stiffen as you approach, a clear sign of his unease, which almost made you want to retreat. But you know you can't go on another day of this unresolved tension with him.

“Yoongi, can we talk?”

He looks up, smirking as he swirls his drink. “Nah.”

Alright. You were not expecting that.

“Look, I just wanna explain–”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to,” he cuts you off, his voice casual but his eyes fixed stubbornly on the lowball glass he’s holding.

“But I–”

“You don't wanna be around me anymore, simple. Dunno why you're here.”

“Wait, Yoongi, you don't understand.”

“Don't understand? You never told me shit.” You notice how his fists are clenched, knuckles turning white. “I would have apologized if I did something wrong. Thought you knew that. Thought we were friends.”

It’s that word again. You chuckle bitterly. “Friends, I know. You keep saying that.”

At this he looks up at you, brows furrowed, but it was your turn to avert your gaze.

“‘Kay. You're leaving anyway, right? You can start now.”

“Fine.”

“Bye.”

You take a few steps, but something tugs at you, pulling you back. You glance over your shoulder, hoping to catch him watching you leave, wishing he’d somehow intervene, stop you from walking away.

But he isn’t there. His chair is already empty, the space where he sat now as vacant as if he’d never been there at all.

No one knows you better than Yoongi, and apparently no one else can hurt you quite like him, too.

The night is young. The club is electric. It is the hottest spot in town and you are hell-bent to experience it to the max.

Spirits and sugary shots tempered the hurt that settled in your gut after your encounter with Yoongi, now replaced with an urge to forget, to almost rebel.

The dance floor becomes your sanctuary. Shots of sweet, potent liquor flow, loosening you up and syncing your movements with the music. The crowd sways around you, a sea of bodies, but Jake remains a constant anchor.

His hands rest confidently on your stomach, your back pressed against his chest as you grind slowly against him. With one arm raised, you hook your hand around his neck, letting your bodies move in perfect rhythm. It's been a while since you let yourself go like this, but it's Vegas, after all.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You’re so sexy, noona.”

“Wanna get out of here?” The words leave your mouth before your brain can stop you.

Jake's eyes widen slightly, but he nods, quite enthusiastically actually, and you think: fuck it, he's cute and you are leaving the company anyway.

Disappointingly, the heat between you and Jake cools with every passing second as you make your way back to the hotel. Yet, you cling to the idea of seeing it through, driven by the need to prove a point: that a) your life doesn't revolve around Min Yoongi; and b) you are attractive and can pull anyone, even if Min Yoongi does not want you.

In another world, this would be a whirlwind of clothes flying off, bodies pressed against walls, hands exploring with urgency. But instead, you both enter the hotel room in silence, the air heavy with a tension that contrasts sharply with the passionate encounter you’d hoped for. The quietness between you feels like a stark reminder of how far you are from the fantasy you envisioned.

Jake notices the maze of thoughts you were lost in.

“Noona,” he says, placing his jacket over the arm of the couch. “Are you sure you want this?”

Want. It was hard to stitch words as a response to that. Not when your heart has only wanted one person for years.

To be fair you do want Jake in your bed tonight. Objectively, he is super attractive - his soft, wavy hair, those wide, doe eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass.

No time to waste. You turn to him, slowly unzipping your dress and letting it slip to the floor. “Does this answer your question?”

“Yes, yes, it does,” he walks in long strides over to you, yanking up his shirt in one fell swoop, revealing his toned stomach.

His hands cup your face and soon you feel his lips against your… neck? Ok, you can get into this. It’s not like you hate it.

He spends a few moments kissing you there. You close your eyes, willing your brain to shut off and just be in the moment.

“Can I touch you here?” One of his hands ghosts the side of your rib, inching towards the underside of your breast.

But before you can answer, loud knocks pound at your door.

“What the hell?” You hastily pull up your dress, zipping it up quickly. The furious raps continue and you can hear a voice behind it.

Jake follows you as you head to the door, picking up his tee from the floor and pulling it over his torso.

Bothered at the urgent banging, you don’t think to view the peep hole as you swing the door open, revealing

“Yoongi?” you squeak.

“Get out.” Eyes bloodshot, he strides past you and goes for Jake, who quickly tries to side-step him, moving a few steps back to create distance between them.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jake's eyes, wide as saucers, go to his elder then to you, before a realization dawns on him. “They said you weren't– Fuck, I swear I really thought–.”

"Get. Out." His voice is cold, laced with a fury you’ve never heard from him before. He grabs Jake by the arm, practically shoving him toward the door.

Jake casts a pitiful glance back, mumbling, "Sorry, noona," even though he’s done nothing wrong. But you don’t see it. Your hands are covering your face, trying to shield yourself from the shock and shame crashing over you as the scene unfolds.

“Fuck off, kid.”

And then the door slams shut.

Yoongi paces the room like a caged animal, his hand raking through his sweaty hair in frustration. His breathing is heavy, almost ragged, as if he’s on the verge of losing control.

You finally find your voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't just barge in my room like that!”

“I just did,” he fires back. “Why are you with him?”

“It's none of your business. But since you really wanna know. I was about ready to fuck him.”

He clenches his jaw, his voice strained. “Did he touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck!”

His hand shakes as he drags it through his hair again, his frustration barely contained. “Did you want him to?”

You can't understand why he’s asking these questions, why he’s reacting like this.

“Yoongi,” you exhale heavily, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “Why are you here?”

Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi likes being in Las Vegas. The city buzzes with an electric energy, a stark contrast to his own chill demeanor. It’s a place where neon lights flash all night, and the unpredictable atmosphere makes him feel like a fish out of water—a thrilling kind of discomfort. He doesn't get why a city so loud and chaotic captivates him, but it does.

He was never one for outlandish, over-the-top spectacles, but the Cirque du Soleil show he watched with you and Hobi the other night instantly became one of his favorites.

He never liked recreational gambling, but the way you lit up with joy and hugged him tight after winning just 20 bucks at a random slot machine—it’s now one of his most cherished memories.

He never fared well in big, buffet restaurants, but if it means hearing you shout “Yoongi, carry meeee” (so stupid) as you beg him for a piggy back ride after downing five heaping plates, then maybe he can start looking up some buffets back home, too.

Las Vegas is free. Las Vegas is wild. Min Yoongi is not.

At least, not until that night when he tore past wild and plunged into nothing short of primal.

Straight out of a segment from The Animal Planet, he was a tiger, lounging contentedly with his pack. You were his queen, his chosen mate—though you don’t know it yet. But when a looming threat emerges, the alpha in him awakens, tapping into ancient survival instincts to protect what’s his.

First, he observed the threat.

Some guy from production. Jake. He’s HYBE's new ace videographer from Australia. Isn’t he younger than her?

Oh shit, this was the dude Yoongi actually handpicked to be the director of photography for his documentary. He might have to rethink this, depending on how things play out.

Fucker has his hand on your back and you shift subtly so his hand falls away. This is good, you don’t seem to be too into his advances, Yoongi tells himself, relaxing slightly on his chair.

Second, he assessed the situation.

Unfortunately for him, the situation escalated quickly.

Never in his life has he ever wanted to gouge his eyes out so badly. If he could actually shove his fingers in his eye sockets and scoop his eyeballs from his skull he would have done it right then. Yet somehow he couldn't look away. There was a sick, sadistic pleasure in watching you lose yourself on the dance floor. Like a voyeur, he stared, mouth slightly parted, breathless as your body grinds in time with the bass. He didn’t want to acknowledge the other man in the picture, the one that wasn’t him.

“You’re drooling, hyung,” Jungkook teases, and Jimin erupts in a fit of giggles, almost falling out of the bar stool.

Yoongi wants to deny it. But between the ache in his heart and the boner in his pants, he did not have it in him to lie. “Pass me a napkin, dipshit.”

Third, he sensed danger.

Unfortunately again, he had to use the toilet at some point. And as he returns to his spot on the balcony, he panics.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Jimin looked at him, warily. “They left.”

No, he thought. No, no, no they’re not leaving this club. They are not leaving his sight.

Fourth, he took decisive action.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through his body spurring him to run out the door, his phone on his ear as he tries to reach his driver.

“Hyung, stop.” Jimin runs to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“You know where.”

“Why?”

His head is pounding. He cannot think straight. And Jimin asking so many questions is so fucking annoying.

“You know why.”

Jimin sighs exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you idiots just talk about this like normal people?”

He doesn’t answer his friend, but he knows Jimin will be coming with him, whether he likes it or not. Because Jimin, nosy as he may be, is also one of the last real ones in his life.

Fifth, he confronts the threat head-on.

Which has brought him here, in your room, acting like the unhinged motherfucker he never aspired to be.

Your stern voice shakes him from his thoughts. “If you’re just going to stand there, just get outta here, Yoongi.”

“No.”

“No?” you let out a huff, a bitter sound cutting him. “You got some fuckin’ nerve. You ask me all sorts of questions, but you can't answer mine, huh?”

He has never seen this look in your eyes, and he starts to regret the hasty decision to come to your room.

Now, he was confronted with the first and very real possibility of you walking out of his life.

“Again, why are you here?” you ask, your voice a notch softer than it should be. It’s clear you’re exhausted, your tear-filled eyes an indication, wanting nothing more than for everything to make sense.

He cautiously pads towards you and gently reaches out for your hand. To his relief, you let him take it and he envelops it in both of his.

He takes one good look at you, committing your face to memory, because in his mind, this could be the point where your friendship ends.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes for a moment, before a confession finally spills from his lips. “Because I can't lose you.”

You blink and a lone tear spills free.

“I heard you on the phone with Jimin and what you said broke me. I keep thinking what I did wrong, but I can't figure it out. Then I saw you with that guy and I lost my shit. You know I'm terrible at expressing myself, but I need you, ok? More than I can say. Don't go. I can’t let you go.” He tugs you gently towards him, encasing you in his arms.

It didn’t take long for you to return the hug, pressing your cheek against his chest, and he is certain you can finally hear his heart that beats only for you. How he wishes he can summon the courage to say so. But the moment feels so delicate and he wants to tread lightly.

“Yoongi…” you sigh out his name and his heart races at how tenderly you seem to have surrendered to him.

“I’m so sorry that I was such a dick to you. Didn’t mean to ice you out. Honestly, that’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

“What is it that you want, then?”

“This.” He tightened his arms a tad against your frame to make a point, before pulling his head back, just enough to be able to see your eyes when he says, “You.”

Your breath hitches and he is unable to read the expression in your face. Was it just shock? Was it dismay? A slight panic bubbles in his throat. Did he misread the signs? Did he just blow it? But you felt so pliant under his touch, you still do. So he had to ask, even if your response might just end him.

“Y-you don’t want this?”

“No, I do, I do,” you say, almost too quickly, nibbling on your bottom lip afterwards. His thumb goes to caress your cheek, and you lean slightly into his touch.

‘Fuckin’ do something,’ his brain screams at him, the way it has for years now.

So many words are still unspoken between you two, but as he looks at the affection and the want in your eyes, he decides–fuck it, you can talk later.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he finally admits, his voice low but steady. "Is that okay?"

You nod, but hesitate. "I’m just—” you place a hand on his shoulder, as if to anchor yourself on him. “I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

He lets out a breath, a smile playing on his lips as he sees yours curve into a shy grin.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he murmurs as he closes the gap, his lips almost grazing yours.

“I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Yoongi.” Your nose nudges his, inviting him to make the next move.

“You were never just a friend,” he whispers against the corner of your mouth.

“And after this,” you say, moving your hands to the back of his neck, “I might want you all to myself.”

His lips brush against yours, featherlight. It’s barely a kiss, just a fleeting touch, but it leaves you both craving more.

“Baby,” he breathes, “I’m already yours.”

A/N: What do we think??? Feedback is appreciated! Do we hear wedding bells, or nah? See you in Part Two! 🙂

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Thank you so much for reading, you beautiful human! xo

#myg x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x oc #yoongi fluff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fic

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