#step 1: get him to fall in love with you.
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☆ trophy wife!
synopsis: you and oliver aiku were married — had been for what felt like ages now. everyone knew it: the media, his fans, his teammates — everyone. but what they didn't know was that... it was a marriage of convenience and that you were nothing more than a trophy wife. but then, why — after three years of ignoring you — was oliver aiku backing you into the wall and telling you he needed you? pairing: afab!reader x oliver aiku [aged up.] wc: 5.7k cw: NOT PROOFREAD. dual pov. loads of mutual pining. idiots to lovers pairing. both of them are pretty pathetic, i swear. marriage of convenience trope. i'll write smut if anyone wants it mwuah mwuah. m.list
.࣪ ִֶ☾. part 01: through her eyes.
30th of june, 2:33 a.m. incident: AITA for freaking out when my husband tried to kiss me on his birthday?
you were well-prepared. you knew what was to come. there was absolutely nothing that could throw you off - other than this.
"a-aiku..?" your breath hitched, eyes widening as the man backed you into the same room you both has chastely slept in for the past 3 years.
the lights were off, the city right outside your window was buzzing, and you swore you felt like you were losing you mind as aiku drew out his long steps towards you.
thump! the back of your knees made contact with the wooden frame of the bed.
having nowhere to hide anymore, you stared at him — all but going insane, "hey."
"need you."
"aiku, listen—" you tried again, words laden with apprehension, eyes jittery as if one look away from him and he'd disappear, "you're drunk."
"no." his heterochrome eyes fell to your red-hued face, and he brought up a thumb up to swipe up at your bottom lip. as the tip of his finger made contact with the soft pout, he almost hissed, "'m not."
"you are." you repeated, deflecting his hand with a careful hit, "you're drunk."
but the man persisted, annoyingly again bringing up his hand up to your cheek and planting it there. his voice was soft, the question so innocent, "so what?"
"you'd—" your eyes met his, lips wobbling as he bent towards you all so greedily slow, "you'd regret... this."
"so what?"
so... what?
how could he ask you that knowing very well that he was breaking rule number 04 of your agreement?
━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━
three years ago, you and your husband spent your entire wedding night setting down rules.
you clad in a white dress that had wrinkled by the time the filtered sunlight had streamed through your window, and him in an expensive suit he didn't give a shit about — his heterochrome eyes had met yours in a careful dance.
"i know you didn't want this. me neither." your legal husband sighed, a broad hand sifting through his dual toned hair as regret interwove into his low decibles, "and i know i cannot make it any better but—"
he sled the piece of paper that you both had spent hours perfecting towards you. the white sheet against the mahogany table, such a striking contrast — and, there was fine-print with two blanks for yours and his signs at the very bottom.
"so this is... final?" dragging the sheet towards yourself with your index, your gaze ran across the rules that you both had thought would make this 'marriage' thing work.
"hm." he nodded, "technically, this is a legally binding document."
your eyes shifted over the words, taking in the phrases you were to consider your holy commands from now on.
there were four simple rules, to be specific:
1. don't interfere in each other's sex lives. 2. don't get caught up in any scandals. be careful. have affairs in private. 3. pretend to be the most perfect couple on camera. no matter what it takes — lies, pr, more lies. whatever. 4. kiss, kiss, don't fall in love!
your brows knitted together, a frown across your painted lips as you read the sheet again and again, and then, once more for good measure. "you want me to be nothing more than a trophy wife, right..?"
"yes," the ex-captain huffed, looking from you to the sheet he had co-authored, "and i promise to be nothing more than your legal husband."
"I'll do my part, you do yours." oliver gave you a re-assuring smile, the kind that made your stomach coil inwards at it's polite implications, "and none of us fall in love with the other."
hopefully.
━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━
being the only daughter of a high-ranking national sports committee member, the starstruck fans and fame-hungry reporters had chalked up your and aiku's pairing to the fates.
"the pro-player and the daughter of the sports committee member," they had discussed in loud whispers, "no wonder they're getting married. so romantic!"
"he was such a womanizer before he met her, you know? who knows what he's like now? probably the same." one school-girl probably had scoffed on the subway, and another had retorted, "that's because it's true love, idiot. people change for love."
"how did they never get caught, though?" others had asked, "it's like their marriage came out of the blue. but well, i guess — when it's fate, then, it's fate!"
well, what they all didn't know was that 'fate' was your father and aiku signing a bunch of paperwork in an office a few days before your wedding ceremony, binding you both to this twisted relationship. not so romantic now, is it?
but eitherways, both of you did your part diligently — that's how this had worked out for so long. this arrangement had worked more than well enough for the past three years.
during his matches, you were dressed in his jersey, his number, cheering his — no, yours — family name as loud as you could. after the same match, aiku would come running upto you and hug you till you felt his tensed muscle slacken against yours like he wanted to hug you. you didn't quite miss the way he whispered against you, "sorry for making you do this, ma."
in the interviews afterwards, he would call you his lucky charm. he would laugh, the sweat beads trailing down the planes of his handsome, perspired face, "what can i say? it's probably my girl that makes my game."
'his' girl? right.
when on a pre-planned date night, he would catch your smaller palms in his, and hover his lips over your skin — fooling the world into believing his lips ever touched yours. next morning, you'd find your faces plastered in the morning tabloids.
oliver aiku was such a good actor, it was sickening.
during every red carpet, you and him were dressed in complimentary suits and dresses, smiling up at each other as if you weren't stuck in whatever the fuck this relationship was.
and when the interviewers would ask him one fine evening, "mr. oliver, you're presenting the award this time, we've heard."
"hah, yes but have you seen my wife yet?" he would gush expertly — somehow even turning his nose and ear tips appear red on command, a pro liar. "i am afraid i wouldn't be able to remember my lines on the stage if i look at her."
and you would look on from the side-line, amazed, because how could that man lie so easily? lie to everyone — the media, his friends, to himself? how could this man tell the cameras you were the very thing he adored, and then go home just to fall asleep after a simple goodnight?
most importantly, how could you ever trust such a big liar? a liar who could even make you believe for a fleeting second that he loved you (even though, according to rule number #4, that was prohibited.)
how, oh how, did oliver aiku make you feel so utterly stupid? how did he even fool you into thinking he may love you?
━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━
3rd of december, 1:06 a.m. incident: my husband comes back from a long night.
"aiku..?" a soft sigh of his name tumbled past your lips, your eyes narrowing at the figure standing at your shared bedroom door in the middle of the night.
it was one in the morning, and you were sure under that once-crisp linen shirt lay foreign lipstick stains and faint whispers of feminine perfume. it was normal — this was normal — your husband getting home late at night after being with another woman. this was normal. and according to rule number 01, you weren't supposed to care about it.
and yet, your mouth grew drier as the same husband walked into the room in the dark — agile footing easily navigating through the learned pathways.
"aiku?" you tried again, this time a bit louder as you sat up on your shared bed. the fabric shifted under your hips, your eyes trying to trace out his outline in the comfortable darkness.
at the sudden sound, the man jumped. flicking on a light with a quick click of his finger, he stared at you all wide-eyed, "you're still up..?"
you nodded and the man cocked an eyebrow, nimble fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, "why so late?"
well, who was supposed to tell aiku that it was the third anniversary of your 'marriage' — or rather, the contract? who was supposed to tell him that you had stupidly cooked a meal and thought you two could celebrate this utterly dogshit arrangement of yours? who was supposed to tell him? definitely not you.
after all — according to rule number 03 — you didn't need to behave like the perfect wife when the cameras weren't rolling. and according to rule number 04 — no falling in love.
so instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line, "jus' couldn't sleep." forcing your lips into a smile, you asked, "you were out late. had fun tonight..?"
aiku shrugged, "eh, nothing special."
and despite rule number 01 still in effect, you bit out a meek, "jessica?"
you had heard the name slip past his lips once late night and immediately associated the name with a beautiful, striking woman — a woman aiku could possibly love. not you.
"nah..." aiku hesitated for just a second, and some selfish part within you wondered if he was about to lie just to keep your heart. if he was about to say 'i saw nobody' just to make you feel like you meant something to him — but the man crushed whatever hope you had under his boot, turning it to ash and soot. "it was crystal, actually."
crystal..?
pulling his closet door open, he didn't even bother turning to look at you, "'m gonna shower and then sleep, kay? you should go to bed."
crystal...?
"yeah, right." at his casual demeanour, at his absolute nonchalance at whichever woman he was currently seeing — you brought your knees up to your chest, a disgusting pang in your ribcage that traveled down your spine and to your toes, "well, i made some pasta if you're hungry."
"oh?" shimmying off his shirt, you watched your husband flex his well-trained muscles involuntarily as he searched for another shirt in his closet, "you cooked? something special tonight, ma?"
"no."
aiku glanced back, the muscles in his shoulders shifting at the action, his eyes narrowing just a little bit, "sure?"
"mhm." you nodded, trying to take your position back on your usual side of the bed, "anyways, eat up if you get hungry. i'm... off to bed. goodnight."
"g'nite."
this was normal.
and according to the rules you both had set, oliver wasn't breaking any. then, why did you have that death grip on your sheets as you heard him close the door to the shower? why did you still cling onto the name 'crystal' like it was your very last thought before death?
23rd of december, 6:54 p.m. incident: my husband's busy (again.)
"'m not sure if green is my colour." you confessed as you gawked up your own reflection in the humongous fitting room.
"oh no! you worry too much, madam." the manager of the clothing studio grinned, fanning a hand at you as if it would make your worries disappear, "you look phenomenal!"
still looking at your reflection in the mirror, your brain tried to scramble helplessly for any excuse for you to not go to the charity ball tomorrow. flimsily searching for your salvation, your eyes drifted to the man seated on the sofa behind you — busy sifting through his phone, unbothered to your very presence.
he didn't care for you — he never did — but maybe, he could validate that green wasn't your colour. maybe he could give you an excuse to not go to that charity ball... because it hurt to see your husband pretend he loved you in front of the cameras, it hurt to know that he could love you that way if he wanted to and he just didn't want you.
biting down whatever traces of self-esteem left within your system, you called out for him, "does this look... okay?"
at the mention of his name, he lifted his gaze from his phone to you. taking in your figure once, twice — he nodded satisfied, "yeah, you look good, ma. don't worry."
a soft ping! of his notifications drew his gaze back to his phone screen. your fist tightened, nails digging into the soft skin as you went back to being ignored. there goes your excuse to skip tomorrow night.
it would always be some event — a charity ball, a reunion, a sports meet, a fucking conference or whatever — and you had to doll up just to smile up at him. it didn't matter if you didn't feel like going, or if it was a pain, or if that shade of green didn't go well on you.
it didn't matter, as stated by rule number 03.
"—and not to mention that green is really mr. oliver's colour." the same manager prattled on, cashmere words as she tried to persuade you.
your eyes still bore against the man as if the staring at him would be enough for him to understand your grievances and bail you out from this hell. but ofcourse, oliver aiku was only the perfect husband on camera.
the woman concluded with a well-practiced, corporate smile, "—and you both have to match, right?"
ofcourse, you both had to fucking match — courtesy of rule number 03 yet again.
even after moments of heating staring, your husband was more busy on his phone than you.
"i guess if he likes it." you finally shrugged, losing your resolve to the 2v1 match going on in the fitting room right now, "we'd take this, then."
"wonderful choice, madam!" and with that the woman clapped, happily guiding you to a private room so that you could take the dress off.
as you followed her, you looked back at oliver once more — as if you'd catch him staring or something equivalently stupid. instead, the man stayed engrossed on his phone — furiously typing.
probably texting jessica, or crystal, or whoever was interesting enough for oliver aiku to fuck into rented hotel sheets — whoever it was that wasn't you.
9th of january, 7.23 p.m. incident: WAG duties.
here you were, sitting in the same spot in the VIP seating area as you had for three years.
his jersey number proudly flashing on your back, you brought your hands up to your mouth to cheer and clap as oliver defended yet another goal, "go, baby! you're doing so well!"
you knew the camera was on you — it was half of the time. the audience ate up every crumb of your relationship online. so, you just smiled, clapping proudly.
honestly, it wasn't hard to fake the genuine enthusiasm every time he skillfully stole the ball from the opposing team — you were proud of him. after all, three years of being someone's greatest supporter eventually becomes a habit, not a chore.
"didn't you get super lucky with oliver?" someone next to you mumbled.
snapping your head towards the sound of the voice, you saw a pretty redhead — oh, chigiri hyoma's sister.
you frequently ran into the woman on and off the field, and had struck up some semblance of friendship with her.
"hah, nice seeing you here, koyuki." you hoped that the laugh didn't sound as strained as if felt in the back of your throat. chasing the pathetic laugh with a practiced smile, "sure did get lucky, but why do you ask?"
"ah, nothing." the redhead grinned, a teasing lilt to her carefree voice, "just that it's been three years and aiku still tries to catch a glimpse of you whenever he defends. if that isn't love, i don't know what is."
love? love?? LOVE???
"oh?" eyebrows bunching together, perhaps you were taken aback with what a good actor oliver was. you were always so caught up in giving the right reactions for the camera, that maybe you didn't see how well he played his side of the loverman role.
but even as koyuki pointed it out, you were too hesitant to actually check for yourself. what if she was wrong? what if you actually saw him looking at you? what if you fell for the elaborate act like a fool yet again..?
so, still focused on the woman in front of you, you spluttered out a pathetic script, "i mea—mean, yeah he just absolutely spoils me."
"i can see that." the woman laughed, "but you're always there to support him too, so I'm sure you spoil him back just as much."
"m-yeah..?"
you spoiled him? no, obviously not. because that wasn't mentioned in any of the rules, was it?
at the stutter in your words, koyuki jutted her bottom lip out, a sorry expression on her face, "oh come on now, don't give all the credit for your marriage to aiku. it takes two to make it work."
"hah," you nodded, coughing up yet another laugh to mask your half-baked lies, "yeah, i guess it does—"
"—i just really, really hope," the redhead cut you off, clasping her nimble fingers together, "that someday I can find a love as adorable as yours."
and at her words, you couldn't help the slight waver in your smile, couldn't help as your eyes drained themselves of any tangible emotion, "o-of course, you will. don't you worry."
"a love as pure as yours"? funny. cause you were yet to find that kind of love three years down the line.
━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━
࣪ ִֶָ☾. part 02: through his eyes.
3rd of december, 1:03 a.m. incident: shit, my wife's still up.
oliver aiku had made the genius decision to avoid you the entire day before, even going out of his way to make sure he didn't step inside your shared apartment before the clock struck twelve.
a simple man may question his actions and ask 'why?' and the answer was as simple as it came: oliver aiku knew it was your — technically, his too — anniversary.
oliver had woken up by the reminder on his phone that read "anniversary.", he had driven and got you a bouquet of flowers, he had even contemplated asking you out for dinner. and then, he had chickened the fuck out. oliver aiku had chickened out for the third time in the row.
see, the first year, he avoided doing anything because it was the first year. the next year, it felt even more awkward cause he hadn't even wished you on the first anniversary so why on the second? he had planned for the third, and that... also went to shit.
truth be told, oliver didn't want to seem like the fool who was holding onto a fake relationship by remembering or bringing up pointless things like this. cause that was just pathetic, right?
so, of course, he did the smartest thing a man could do — avoided you like you were the fucking plague. even if it meant sitting the entire night away in his car and waiting for the perfect time to return back home.
"aiku?" at your sudden chirp, oliver almost felt a wayward shiver run down his spine. flipping on the switch with a practiced flick, he found you sitting up in your shared bed, "you're still... up?"
and though oliver knew there was no way you knew he had been waiting in his car, his heart genuinely caught up a wicked pace. trying to distract himself — and perhaps, you — he undid the buttons of his shirt, "why so late?"
as you gave him a smile, the man knew something was off. shit.
you spoke so softly, looking so beautiful even in the absolute middle of the night, "jus' couldn't sleep... you were out late, have fun tonight?"
"eh," aiku tried his best to appear nonchalant, trying to be truthful amid the chaos of his mind, "nothing special."
he hoped, he stupidly hoped that you'd say goodnight and go to sleep. instead, you further enquired, "jessica?"
and despite being a sharp man who could lie to god while looking in his eyes, aiku turned his back to you — scared he may fumble in front of you that he hadn't seen another woman for the past three years. he started softly, "nah..."
opening the door to his closet, he tried to think of another name — any name. oh, what was that thing sendou was talking about a few days ago? crystal chandeliers? crystal? cry—
"—stal, actually." the pro-player lied through his teeth. rummaging through his closet, he tried to distract you, "'m gonna shower and then sleep, kay? you should go to bed."
"yeah, right." and oliver aiku almost confessed all his sins just at that 'right'. but instead of further grilling him, you just said, "well, i made some pasta if you're hungry."
"oh?" peeling the familiar shirt off of his body, for a moment, the man believed that you knew what yesterday was. but how could you? you had never been more than what he had asked of you — you had never been more than a contract, a trophy wife.
eitherways, he asked — to confirm. "you cooked? something special tonight, ma?"
but your answer was swift. a straight, sweet blow: "no."
and despite the answer, oliver allowed himself to glance back just this once, "sure?"
"mhm. anyways, eat up if you feel hungry." you nodded, shifting to go to sleep, "I'm off to bed. goodnight."
oliver turned his face back to the closet door, mumbling out, "g'nite."
as the man closed the door to the shower, he clenched his fist and unclenched it. what was he even so frustrated about? he had set the rules with you, didn't he? and you weren't breaking any of them.
you were the most perfect trophy wife, after all, weren't you?
23rd of december, 6:54 p.m. incident: my wife's dad sucks.
oliver aiku was sure he could rip his hair out right now.
aiku: listen, she has nothing to do with it. aiku: i said i don't feel like taking her to the charity ball. dad 2: Why not? Did she say she doesn't wanna go? aiku: for the last time, i said i don't wanna take her. dad 2: Did she do something to trouble you Mr. Oliver?
jesus fucking christ. oliver aiku could really rip his hair out right now.
as dense as he'd like to believe he was as behaving like an actual husband, aiku could still see that you truly did not want to go to that stupid charity ball. the entire ride to the fitting, you had been sitting far too still in your seat — asking him questions like, "is it important for me to go?"
you never asked for anything from him.
each game, you showed up. each event, you dressed to the nines and put on that painfully pretty yet fake smile. each day, you put up with him. and however bad of a husband aiku may be, he didn't want to discomfort his own wife for the sake of some stupid rule, or the sake of that old man who happened to be your dad.
you distant voice kissed his ears, "'m not sure if this shade of green is my colour."
your statement was followed by some candied prattle by the saleswoman, but aiku was too busy re-reading your father's heinous texts to actually look up and check for himself.
dad 2: If she has inconvenienced you in any such way, please let me know.
"—aiku?" and the soft sigh of his name past your heavenly lips, oliver's gaze immediately shot up. you met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, "does this look okay?"
'okay'? you were beautiful beyond words.
hair hastily tied up, makeup not yet glam enough, dress not fitted to your measurements, only held up by clips — and yet, aiku almost lost his breath when looking at you.
thumb still hovering over the virtual keyboard, he took in your figure once, twice and nodded — all but dazed, "yeah, you look good, ma. don't worry."
he was about to say something more when another stupid ping! brought his attention back to his phone.
dad 2: Or you can reprimand her yourself, if you'd like. We have no objections to it.
'reprimand'?? what the actual fuck did that old geezer mean by that?
aiku felt his fingers gliding furiously across the keyboard, words nothing if not laced with the absolute venom in his system — because nobody talked about his wife like that.
aiku: listen here. aiku: i don't need your input on how to treat my own fucking wife. so, if i hear one more word out of you, just know that i will make you regret it. aiku: that's all. take care, dad.
aiku shut his phone, tearing his gaze away from the screen to where you were standing only to find you already gone.
he was late, like always.
9th of january, 7.23 p.m. incident: scatterbrained on the field.
oliver aiku knew nothing more than the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the blood that roared in his eardrum, the thoughts that bolted through his brain, the overhead lightings that blinded him when he jumped up to defend the incoming attack — oliver aiku knew nothing more than the ball and the field in front of him.
atleast that's what he had always felt when he played. keyword: had.
but lately, his brain was scattered — thoughts a jumbled incoherent tune that only sung to rhythms of your name. every time he closed his eyes, every strained breath, every involuntary flex of his muscles — you were there. you were there in the very fiber of his being.
so, ofcourse, when he defended yet another goal and the ball was expertly deflected off-field, he didn't care about the cheers of his name, didn't care about the teammates that whooped and ran to their spots, didn't care about anyone or anything that wasn't you.
lifting his gaze straight at the VIP box, his eyes frantically searched for you. and there you were — wearing the jersey that he had brought for you, smiling so wide as you clapped and aiku swore for a second, he froze.
no, ofcourse, his body kept moving — muscled thighs sprinting across the field like it was second-nature and eyes scanning for constant threats, oliver aiku was still in the game physically. but mentally? my god, weren't you the prettiest thing he had laid his eyes on?
stealing scarce glances away from the soccer ball, the man found you talking to a familiar redhead. you laughed at something she said, and oliver felt a feverish pang run it's course through his chest. did you ever smile at him like that? or at all, for that matter? did he—
"—AIKU. WHERE'S YOUR FUCKING FOCUS?" his teammate yelled, and the ex-captain's gaze tore back into the field instantly. his teammate ran across the field, chasing the opposing team as they brought the ball into oliver's side of the court, "AIKU, DEFEND. FOCUS."
focus..? focus?? what was that?
because even as the man shielded the defense line with his hulking body and fast-paced thoughts, he couldn't help but steal a glance at your still-conversing self.
what was a fucking match when compared to his wife, anyways?
30th of june, 2.23 a.m. incident: AITA for kissing my wife on my birthday?
oliver aiku was about to lie through his fucking teeth, and it was about to be as pathetic as he could get. but fuck it, how many more years of heartache should he have to endure without giving it a shot?
"a-aiku..?" your voice was so soft, that aiku couldn't help but walk onwards, backing you into the room even despite his clenched fist and trembling calves.
a soft thump! indicated the back of your legs hitting the bed — or wait, was that the sound of his heart dropping into his stomach..?
another soft hiss past your lips, "hey..?"
"need you."
frankly, aiku himself didn't know what the fuck he was on about. thank god, you cut him off.
"—aiku, listen." your eyes were frenzied, and aiku swore he saw your gulping harshly in the darkness, "you're drunk."
he was not... but he was pretending.
oliver aiku had come up with the most perfect plan. he would pretend to be drunk on his birthday and kiss you. if you slapped him, or threatened to divorce him, he could always blame the alcohol.
"no." he purposefully slurred, using his hazed state to bring up a careful thumb to your bottom lip. under his soft swipe, your lips wobbled and aiku felt his knees almost give up whole. keeping up the act, he pathetically worded, "'m not."
"you are." you pushed his hand away and aiku found himself yearning for your touch — even if was to push him away. you repeated, "you're drunk."
you sounded so scared, and aiku almost forgot his well-rehearsed script. as he stared at you, he started considering that perhaps this wasn't the smartest of ideas. but well, he didn't come this far to only come this far, so, instead he brought up the hand to your cheeks daringly.
you didn't slap his hand away, or flinch. so, he softly planted his calloused hand against your soft cheek and bet his sanity on a losing match, "so what?"
okay... maybe he did come this far only to come this far.
"you'd—" your words fell down in sordid syllables, and he took the soft parting of your lips as an invitation to bend forward. your eyes widened at his action but fuck it. here goes nothing. yolo or whatever. "you'd regret... this."
"so what?"
and he truly meant it. if kissing you once meant he would have to give up his sanity — oliver aiku was ready to trade. he was ready to go ahead and trade everything unholy and sinful he was for you. he was ready.
drawing closer, your warm breath fanned against his face and the man couldn't hold back physically. bringing up another hand to your waist, kneading the skin under the luxurious silk dress you had wore for his party, the man delved in to devour you.
his lips against yours in a lewd dance, and oliver almost fucking gasped from how sweet you were. despite dreaming on and on about this exact scene, he could have never assumed how fucking sweet you'd be. how he'd be able to taste the flavour of your gloss, how he'd be able to sync up his ragged breathing to yours, and how instead of pushing him or kicking him in the family jewels — you'd kiss back.
࣪ ִֶָ☾. part 03: through their eyes.
wrapping your shaking hands around oliver's neck, you found yourself pressing your body against his muscled ones. tongue against his, eyes clenched shut at the taste of whiskey in your mouth and his large palm on your skin.
the man pressed against you harder, his body heat almost setting you ablaze — and you let him, pressing against him with just as much fervour.
"a-aiku..." your serrated words got lodged in the back of your throat as the man kissed down your jaw— his actions so primal, unrelenting. you gasped at the soft nip of his teeth against the column of your throat — the action so dangerously intimate. straining, you repeated his name, "aiku...?"
"keep sayin' my name." his heterochrome eyes flicked up to yours, and the man lost all cognitive senses to come back and kiss you on the lips again. his actions were rough — depraved. and even when his lungs ached for oxygen, he used up the last in his body to utter out, "say my name."
"mmph— aiku..!" your kiss-bitten lips against his, the strings of saliva between you two. you repeated, chanting the word like a mantra, "aiku, aiku, a-aiku—"
"—fuck." his broad palm pulled up your dress, bunching up the fabric at your waist to expose your naked thigh.
what was happening? all you could feel and touch and know happened to be oliver aiku.
were you actually kissing him? was he actually kissing you? or was this another stupid plan of his... were there paps to catch this and post about it tomorrow?
at the absurd thought, you pushed him away.
the man looked far-gone. his pupils blown wide, cherry-red lips swollen, and spit drabbling down his jaw — in fact, oliver looked at you as if you had committed blasphemy. his words wobbled, "w-what?"
"why are you kissing me?" and you're sure you meant it genuinely, but the words came out so horrified. wiping your lips frantically, your unsteady gaze scanned the room, "why...? i-is there someone in the room?"
"huh?!" oliver's jaw slacked open at your question. were you drunk? he spluttered, "what..?"
"why are y-you... kissing me, aiku?" you asked, words tattered and confidence lost, "have you lost your mind?"
"i—" he stepped back, horrified he may have done something wrong. his tongue felt thick in his mouth, voice uneven, "di-should i not have kissed you?"
"the rules." your eyes widened, "we... you're not supposed to kiss me."
"but i just did."
"that's what i'm asking," your voice shot up a note, gaze growing hazy at the implications of him toying with your heart yet again, "why did you?"
"we are married." and you swore, you heard the tiniest twinge of disappointment woven into his fact-like statement.
"we are pretending to be married." you bit back, eyes clenching shut at his flimsy excuse.
"s-still married."
"still pretending." your eyes shot opened, the whites now tinted red, you spit, "i'm just your trophy wife, right?"
and at the phrase, aiku sifted his palms through his already tousled hair. eyes frantic, words maddened, "what... what if i don't want that anymore? what if i-i... want you."
what? how drunk was he?
"i want you." he repeated, and you couldn't decide whether the phrase was a curse or a blessing. he stepped closer, if that was even physically possible — hysterical, "i want you."
he wanted... you?
the same man that had ignored you for the past three year wanted you?
a/n: my fucking god, I LOVEEEE pathetic men hahaha. no smut in this one guys cause i was too consumed writing the mutual pining. tagging: @heartbingers @moodswing101 @isabellalovesyou @adollsdarkdiary [just tagging the people on my last oliver post.]
#blue lock#bllk#blue lock smut#bllk smut#oliver aiku#oliver aiku smut#aiku smut#oliver smut#oliver aiku x reader#oliver aiku x reader smut#bllk x reader smut#bllk x reader
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how do you think leona would do if he falls in love?
Here are my thoughts in bullet-point/headcanon form for ease of reading! Key word there being my thoughts. (There will of course be different interpretations based on who you ask this question to.)
Standard disclaimer: These points are nothing more than my opinions and I am NOT saying my opinions are any more or less valid or “correct” than yours. Please, I’m not pre-book 1 Riddle/j It’s fine to have other takes; just remember to be mindful in how you communicate differences in opinion.
To start with, here's how I think Leona would deal with the experience of first love:
Firstly, I definitely feel that Leona is the type of person to not easily fall in love. There are many examples in canon of Leona rejecting the love he receives from others, whether it be from his own family (Cheka, Falena), dorm members (Ruggie, Jack, Savanaclaw mobs, etc.), or other peers. Even though he desires others’ approval and praise, he also simultaneously believes the compliments are insincere or that he may not be deserving or worthy of it, that he hasn’t “earned” it. It’s also difficult for him to be emotionally vulnerable with others, and I feel that this would extend to romantic circumstances.
Continuing from the previous point, I think it’d be a slow burn. Like, the feelings develop gradually and manifest in small but increasingly more forward-facing ways like his gaze lingering for a second or two longer than usual, him getting slightly irritable when he smells (I 100% believe that smell is a Big Thing for beastmen) some other guy on the object of his affections, or simply… his mind wandering to them, maybe in a daydream.
A lot of it is Leona musing about the situation and then being in denial. He’s not so oblivious as to ignore what are clearly blossoming feelings, but he's not so hasty as to act on them right away. He'd sit with those feelings, examine them, question them. What is it that he is experiencing and why, how did things come to this, etc. He may even try to convince himself it's a phase or he's "too good" for this or he's "above" this. Really takes a long time to wrestle with his emotions and to sort them out. And then when he has come to his conclusion, he might not be very pleased with it because (as I said before), he has self-esteem and self-worth issues despite outwardly presenting himself as confident and in-charge.
For a while, he keeps his distance and observes. He’s nothing if not a big cat biding his time, keeping an eye on his prey until—BAM! Down comes his paw, ensnaring the mouse. It's like a game of chess or... cat and mouse. You have to watch your opponent and predict their moves, then plan your own moves two or three or more steps ahead of them. He'd want to gauge if they're already taken, if they seem to express an interest in him too, what they like and dislike, information like that. The last thing Leona'd want to do is charge in, guns blazing, only to be rejected and have his pride hurt.
He may also go out of his way to test the object of his affections by purposefully engineering scenarios to see how they react. At first, it's subtle things that could easily be passed off as coincidence or happenstance. For example, maybe Leona would accidentally bump his shoulder against yours or as he's walking by his tail flicks you. That's just the start though. He'd put more pressure on over time. Like he'd be more confrontational, putting himself in your path as some obstacle to overcome, still being sort of an asshole to see how you handle yourself around him.
Leona tells himself he has the upper hand, and he's usually pretty consistent about hiding his feelings to that end. It might peek through here and there, but they easily read as him being tsundere as per usual. I think that would be his way of coping, because deep down he doesn't want to admit that a part of him is scared to feel this way. It's something else he could fail at, someone else he could frighten away or destroy.
With time, I think he'd become more confident. He has a better grasp of the other person, he's been able to sort out his thoughts. But the thing is, his pride is still a major deterrent. Instead of coming out and saying it, it would become another game. If you've ever read or watched Kaguya-sama: Love is War, it'd be similar to that. Leona would push for the other person to be the one to fall for him and confess first. Part of it is he's kind of afraid to be so emotionally vulnerable, part of it is that he's desperate to be wanted and needed by others, and part of it is that he feels he needs to "earn" that love by winning you over. He wants that sweet, sweet validation from you. He wants YOU to choose HIM.
I think he expects a certain amount of push and pull. If the game's too easy for him, the (psychological) hunt loses some of its thrill. I think he'd also be the type to seek a partner that isn't just a blind yes man (despite him giving off the vibes that he wants to be in total control, especially in his own dormitory); they should be able to keep him on his toes one way or another, and they shouldn't idolize him in a really unrealistic way--because then he worries what would happen if they learn about his flaws. Would they see him differently? Reject him? Etc.
It'd take a considerable amount of time and effort, but slowly he'd let the walls around his heart down to let you in--but ONLY if you pass his tests and prove that you can be loyal, trustworthy, and cognizant + accepting of all his flaws. He has high standards, so he's pretty picky about who he allows to be by his side. I don't think he'd be happy having to like... put in a fake "perfect prince" act or airs for someone else. Pretending to be someone you're not in order to have love might be just another source of stress for him.
He would take a more aggressive approach if the object of his affections makes it obvious that they return his feelings. More "accidental" touching (but of course nothing that breaches into something they find discomforting), intentionally dropping phrases that come off as flirtatious, demanding to spend more time together, etc.
If they're not into it, he'd respectfully back off. However, that won't stop him from moping about it in private later.
Then, assuming a scenario in which he and the person he's romantically interested in get together/start formally dating:
I think he'd be a lot more blatant and shameless about "showing off" his affections and/or the relationship in general. Overt flirting at this point, casually laying his head on the shoulder or wrapping an arm or tail around you, etc. Who cares who sees? Let them know you're already taken.
Oh yeah, he's really into physical touch (within whatever limits you deem to be acceptable; he respects your autonomy). Cuddles while napping, hand holding, head pats, listening to your heartbeat, etc. It grants him a sense of security that you're like... physically there with him.
As I mentioned earlier, I think there'd be a lot of banter and teasing; Leona strikes me as someone who likes to toy with his pre or puts up a fight; he still has his pride and won't take sass lying down, he'd definitely retaliate but in a playful way.
Slightly whiny and needy. Key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to go full yandere on you. I believe that Leona would be somewhat insecure about the relationship and wants you to validate him with your presence. Like, if you're lying down somewhere and try to get up to leave... he might pout and be all dramatic about it, maybe throw in a sarcastic line about how he's "a delicate prince" and how he'll "wither like a flower" without you.
Slightly possessive. Again, the key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to restrict your movements or demand complete control of your life. However, he might sulk if he like... sees some other guy hovering or getting handsy, obviously making you uncomfortable. (If it's a particularly bad day for him, Leona might get intrusive thoughts about being the "second pick" and his partner leaving him for some "better" guy.) We've already seen he can get pretty territorial when it comes to Savanaclaw and the Botanical Garden, so I think at some point he'd also step in to intimidate people he feels are becoming a problem for his S/O. It's not the case for every situation though; his partner should be able to handle themselves or let him know when he's overstepping.
I think he'd be a little more tolerant of things his partner pulls. They're the one exception for certain things, like touching his ears or being more willing to listen to their requests to go to class or to try this new vegetable.
He'd try to distance his S/O from his family, especially in the beginning. Leona would tell them he doesn't think they're ready to meet the royal family yet (especially knowing the rocky relationship he has with his family), but really a lot of this stems from his pride. Falena, for example, honestly might make him look uncool by infantilizing his "baby bro".
Leona doesn't really go out of his way to plan grand gestures (he's not Kalim). If he does anything "big", it's probably like sending Ruggie to your doorstep with fancy flowers and a notecard or something. What he values isn't the "frivolous" stuff, but spending quality time together (even if it's doing nothing in particular). Might still spoil you on, say, special occasions, but he generally dislikes making a big deal of these things.
I think he'd be into you wearing his clothes. It's an easy visual indication that you're intimate enough to do this, but also it cloaks you in his smell so every other beastman in the immediate vicinity also knows you're "marked". Leona tosses his unworn blazer over you, casually saying, "Keep it."
I do believe he has the capacity to be very sappy, but I don't think he'd want to be at this level all of the time. It would probably be limited to private settings and done sparingly, sort of like a treat?? Cuz if he does it too often, then it might lose its "special" feeling, and I also feel like he wouldn't be open to being all squimshy 24/7. Usually his sappiness is sarcastic.
Going to keep it 100 here, he's going to be more vulnerable around you (especially in private), and that means potential traumadumping. That's not to say that he'd do it super frequently to go into full-blown details, but his S/O would be one of the few people he feels comfortable enough with to open about his deepest insecurities and fears. He sometimes needs someone to hear him out, a shoulder to cry on, etc. Of course, he's not going to treat his partner like an unpaid therapist. Leona just... needs some extra support every now and again, reminders that he's doing fine, you know??
IMPORTANT ADDITIONAL NOTES:
Leona being in love would NOT smooth out all the rough edges to his personality. He's not going to white knight/act like you constantly need his protection, he's not going to bend over backwards and do anything and everything his partner asks of him. He still has a will and he can and will disagree or argue if he's opposed to something. He'll still let you handle yourself as needed.
Leona being in love would also NOT magically cure him of his personal issues and struggles. This is also true of the other characters who have deeply rooted trauma, but I feel this point should be included as a reminder anyway. It's of course not his entire personality, but his past experiences will impact how he interprets and reacts to things in present day (hence him being needy/wanting validation, etc.).
Like all relationships (whether romantic or platonic), it would not be flawless. There will be highs and lows, fights and disagreements, etc. This is normal in any relationship; what matters is that you're able to be mature enough to patch things up afterwards and learn from those rough patches.
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#Leona Kingscholar#Leona Kingscholar x Reader#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#question#notes from the writing raven#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland headcanons
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A Package Deal - Part 5
In which big things happen at Silverstone
Warnings: nothing but fluff, as per usual Pairing: Lando Norris x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 2.8k words
A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 Master List Don't miss my new project: Track Limits, the fully original sports romance set in the cut-throat world of Formula 1 (first part will be posted tomorrow, January 6th)
yourusername (private) posted
102 likes liked by landonorris, BFFSarah, stellasgrandpa, and others yourusername home race, best race BFFSarah cuties stellasgrandpa so much fun today with you. that man of yours is a keeper. >>>yourusername ❤️ love you dad >>>landonorris thanks for keeping my girls company today, sir! glad you had fun, would love to have you & stella at more races this year >>>BFFSarah 'my girls' i die
"Momma, it's hot." Stella whines, tugging on your hand as you walk towards the McLaren hospitality suite Sunday morning.
"Baby, I know. Hospitality has aircon though, so let's get inside. Lando's there too and he wants to see you before he gets into the car."
Behind you, your dad and step mom follow along. It's the British Grand Prix weekend and instead of working this race, you're here as Lando's personal guest, along with your family. It's surreal, attending the race but not working. You felt insanely out of place in hospitality in your jeans and black tank top instead of your papaya and black team kit.
Stella scampers off ahead of you, heading straight to the giant orange building that sits behind the garages at Silverstone. She's been with you all weekend, having wanted to watch Lando during all three practice sessions and qualifying. It was her first time in the paddock this weekend and as you watched her take to the atmosphere like a fish you water, you were worried you'd never be able to get her away from here. There was something magical in it though, watching your baby come alive and fall in love with something for the first time in their life.
The glass sliding doors woosh open for you and Stella and you're rewarded with a wash of cool air instantly giving you relief from the hot British summer outside. The main room of the suite is a hub of activity. Several meetings going on all at once, employees coming and going, meals being served for guests. It was all a bit overwhelming but you'd been to a few races already this season and it was beginning to feel routine for you.
You check your phone and see that Lando returned your text, informing you he was just in his drivers room up on the second floor.
"Stella, Lando is up on the second floor in his room. Knock before you go in." You tell your daughter, knowing she's going to want to run to see your boyfriend as soon as she can. You watch as she runs away before turning back to your dad and step mom. "She's been hanging out there all weekend. She says it's her favorite place in the world."
Your dad looks a little surprised, "I don't think I've ever seen Stella that comfortable in a crowd or without one of us." He marvels.
You smile, having noticed the same thing. You follow after Stella as you respond to your dad. "She's been this little social butterfly all weekend, it's like this place is magic for her. She's barely left Lando's side."
Lando and Stella had developed such a special relationship over the last seven months and even though it was normal to you now, sometimes you still had to stop and wonder if this was really real. He picked her up from school on such a regular basis that Ms. Rose in the front office had stopped asking him for ID and stopped calling you to make sure he had permission to take Stella. There had been several times that Stella had made an appearance on one of Max F's streams while Lando raced online with him. Since Lando rarely streamed with video on, you had allowed Stella to 'help' Lando drive when her permitted it, which was whenever Stella asked. Because your little girl had your boyfriend wrapped around her little finger. For a little girl that had always been shy around men other than her own grandpa, Stella blossomed when Lando and her grew closer.
By the time you reach the top of the stairs, you can see that the door to Lando's room is thrown wide open and you just hope Stella had remembered to knock before barging in. You can hear her chatter float out of the door and when you round the corner, Stella is sat next to Lando on the leather couch that sits underneath the window.
“And then Momma made you walk fifteen miles in a heat wave just to see me?” Lando exclaims, barely covering up a laugh at Stella’s dramatics.
“Stella Rose!” You laugh, stopping in your tracks and propping your hands on your hips. “We walked across the track through the air conditioned tunnel from the hotel!”
“Gee, I wonder where she gets her dramatic streak from.” Mutters your dad from behind.
You spin, sound of indignation flying from your lips while everyone else dissolves into laughter.
“Ok, Lan and Stella already gang up on me enough, I can’t have you two choosing their side too!” You say though your own laughter.
Stella continues to chatter away as the four adults in the room listen raptly. This goes on for a while before a soft knock at the door interrupts a story Stella is telling about taking Rosco for a walk yesterday after quali. Everyone turns and you're very surprised to see Andrea standing in the doorway.
"I thought I'd find you here." The Team Principle says, smile playing on his lips. Since you'd been traveling a bit with the team and deployed your tire monitoring program full time a few races ago, Andrea and you had gotten a bit closer. You liked the man, with his gently demeanor and soft spot for your boyfriend.
"Hi Andrea!" Stella chirps from where she sits on Lando's lap. The two had met Friday morning and Stella had taken an immediate liking to the man.
"Hi Ms. Stella, how are you this morning?"
"Good, thank you!" Stella smiles and then goes back to chattering at Lando.
Seemingly dismissed by your daughter, Andrea chuckles and turns back to you. "I know you're not working today but can I steal you for a moment? It won't take long, I just want to chat about something."
Something twists in your stomach, anxiety rising to the surface. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lando's ears perk up as he continues to listen to Stella talk. He keeps one eye on your daughter but his attention is clearly on you. "Oh, of course. Everything okay?" You can't possibly think of anything you'd left unfinished before leaving for the weekend on Thursday but you could have missed something.,
"Yes yes! Nothing to worry about. Just want to talk to you about something."
Your dad shoos you towards the door, telling you they'll watch Stella while you're busy. Nodding, you turn and follow Andrea out of Lando's room down the hall to where his office is. Anxiety settles in the pit of your stomach despite being assured that nothing is wrong.
Once in his office, Andrea shuts the door behind you and motions for you to sit down. The office is small, just enough room for a small desk and a few chairs. Andrea doesn't spend much time in here on race weekends but it's nice for him to have a quiet place to get away during these hectic days.
"Thank you for taking a few moments. Like I said, I know you're here as Lando's guest and not working but I wanted to get your thoughts on something Zak and I have been discussing for quite some time."
You nod, feeling a little better. It wasn't totally out of the ordinary that Andrea or one of the race engineers needs you randomly on a weekend, despite the program basically running itself now. "Of course, how can I help?"
Andrea tents his fingers in front of his face, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him. "Zak and I have been really impressed by you this season, that program you wrote has been essential in all of our finishes and wins so far."
You flush under the praise. "Thank you."
Andrea nods, "I don't know if you're aware but there's an opening on the strategy team." Your heart stops in your chest. You had heard rumors of one of the race strategists leaving the team to go over to Aston Martin a few weeks ago, but it had never been confirmed by the team anywhere publicly. "Zak and I have been taking our time looking for the replacement and we wanted to see if you'd be interested in the position. You have the data gathering and analysis skills down and that program you developed shows you know how to interpret the data in a way that is helpful to the team. We think you'd be an amazing asset to the strategy team."
For a few moments, you're totally speechless. You only have an undergraduate degree in computer science and data analytics, generally the strategists have degrees in engineering or aerodynamics, neither of which you have. "I...I'm flattered that you think so highly of me, Andrea."
"Then say you'll take the job." He says, grin spreading across his face. "There will be some more travel than your doing right now, but both Zak and I are willing to work with you on the schedule and make sure Stella is taken care of." He adds and you wonder if he was reading your mind in the moment because that was going to be your first question.
"Can I think about it? Run it by my dad and Stella's nanny?" You desperatly want to say yes, a spot on the strategy team something you'd wanted for a long time but had never thought you'd be able to manage.
"Of course! I don't expect an answer right away. Will you be in the office on Tuesday?"
"Yes, I was planning on it."
"Perfect. I'll have Zak's assistant put some time on your calendar for the three of us to sit down and discuss. Sound good?"
You nod, slightly overwhlemed at the decision you now have to make. Andrea has to get to the garage then so you wish him good today and slowly make your way back over to Lando's room.
The room is quiet when you wander in, eyes a bit glazed over from shock as the offer that Andrea just made you begins to sink in.
"Everything okay?" Lando's tone is laced with concern, drawing you out of your own world. He rises before taking your hands in his own. "Baby, you're shaking. What happened?"
"They want me to join the strategy team." You whisper weakly, eyes darting from the floor up to meet Lando's pretty greenish blue ones that you love so much.
"What? Babe! That's huge! I'm so proud of you!"
"I haven't said yes yet."
Lando leads you over to the couch and for the first time since you walked into his room you notice the quiet. "Where's Stella?" You ask as you sit down next to Lando who draws you close into his side.
"Your dad and stepmom took her to get some lunch and ice cream downstairs. Now, why haven't you accepted the offer yet, love? You talk all the time about how you wanted to make the move to doing more strategy and less analysis."
"It's a lot of travel, probably half the races instead of what I've been doing. I can't leave Stella that often."
Lando shakes his head, "You can't let that stop you, this is such an amazing opportunity." Lando knew that if he didn't help talk you into this, you'd pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity. "She adores Tilly and her and your dad have been doing so well too." Tilly was the nanny you had hired back in May after Miami and the two got along so well while you were traveling, sometimes you wondered if Stella loved her more than she loved you.
"Stella is getting older, she understands that you need to travel for work now." Lando continues, tangling your fingers up with his and giving them a squeeze. "She'll be fine, and she'll get to see her mom going out and working hard and living her dreams. When you're not working races and Stella isn't in school, you guys can travel with me. We can make this work, my love, I promise. You don't have to juggle this all alone anymore."
Tears sting at the back of your eyes at your boyfriend's encouragement. As you had walked back from Andrea's office you had been fully prepared to turn down the promotion, not feeling like you could manage the increase in travel and responsibilities but with Lando's encouragement, you were second guessing your decision already. "You think we could handle it?"
"Baby, there's not doubt in my mind that the three of us can handle whatever this crazy job throws at us." Lando pulls you further into his side, arm slipping around your shoulder as he leans in. He dusts a quick kiss on your lips before pressing another one to your temple. "We're a package deal now, remember? It'll all work out."
You draw in a deep breath before nodding, "Okay. Let's do it then."
"That's my girl." He praises, kissing you again as you sink further into his warmth.
"Momma! Lando won! Lando won the race!" Stella shouts over the pandemonium of the garage. Tears stream down your face as you watch your boyfriend pull into parc ferme after winning his home race, Oscar just behind him in P2. It had been a stressful race, the teammates had traded the lead a few times but in the end, Lando had the superior race pace and had pulled away from Oscar during the last quarter of the race.
It was the first time McLaren had won their home race in ages and everyone in the garage was emotional. The team spills out of the garage, racing over to the barriers to greet the two McLaren drivers. You slowly follow behind, Stella's hand firmly grasped in yours as you lead her over to watch Lando get out of the car.
The moment he's out and his helmet is off, Lando is looking for you. It wasn't his first win of the season but it was the first with you and Stella there to see him win. His entire family was here since it was his home race and the satisfaction and pride that swelled in his chest was almost too much to handle. He spots you at the back of the crowd and he knows you're back there because you don't want to wade deep into the crowd with Stella.
Not wanting to wait until after the race to see you, Lando rounds the barriers making a beeline straight for you. Behind him, a pair of camera's follow up and you're acutely aware of the fact you're about to be on live TV.
"There's my girls!" Lando shouts before scooping up Stella in his arms. "The prettiest good luck charms on the grid." He murmurs in your ear as he cuddles Stella on his other side. "I'm so fucking lucky."
You laugh into his neck, suddenly shy at the fact that your face is being shown on the huge video screens all over the track. Lando draws back before kissing you full on the mouth, much to Stella's dismay.
"Gross!" Stella squeals as she wiggles out of his arms, allowing Lando to fully take you in his arms now, giving you the biggest bear hug he can.
"I'm so proud of you." You sob, so happy you got to see him win his home race. You knew how much this meant to him and being able to witness in person with Stella made it that much more meaningful.
"I love you." Lando murmurs before letting you go. "I have post race stuff to do, media and all that but I'll meet you back in the drivers room as soon as I can, okay?"
You nod as you squeeze his hand. Stella launches herself into Lando's arms once again and he spins her around, head tipped back on a laugh. The cameras capture it all and if you had been watching it on TV, you would have heard every commentator losing their minds at how cute Lando's little family is.
Lando eventually puts Stella down after he hears Victor calling his name. There is so much to do after a win, especially one as big as winning his home race, but he doesn't want to leave you or Stella quite yet. Lando steals one last kiss from you, drops a kiss onto the top of Stella's head and finally jogs away, knowing he needs to get things taken care of after the win.
Hours later, after all the champagne is washed off and Stella is tucked into bed in the second bedroom of your suite for the weekend, Lando and you tumble into bed together, celebrating one of his biggest wins of the year in the best way possible.
landonorris posted:
508,903 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, BFFsarah, and others landonorris home race, best race. great race this weekend with my girls here for good luck. yourusername ❤️ so proud of you my love! >>>user992 couple goals fr >>>user334 how does it feel to be god's favorite?! user0299 oh my GODDDD Lando running over to her and Stella after the race and calling them his girls on live tv??? Straight out of a Taylor Swift song. >>>user1221 god, I've seen what you've done for others
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#f1#formula 1#lando norris#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#mclaren#ln4#lando norris x singlemom!reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris imagine#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#ln4 x reader#lando norris x female reader
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When I Fall [Part 1]
SUMMARY | You're trapped in a loveless and childless marriage to Taeho, a divorced older man that is a friend of your father's. After fifteen years of marriage and no children of your own, Taeho starts to see other women since you're past your prime and can't give him heirs. One night, tired of your husband and his emotional abuse, you go out with some friends, get shit-faced drunk, and meet Jongho, a man fifteen years younger than you, that will change your life forever.
PAIRINGS | Jongho x Reader
RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked
GENRE | smut, angst, drama
CONTENT/WARNINGS | age-gap, step-cest, cheating, mentions of control and emotional abuse, mentions of drinking, profanity/strong language, kissing, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, vaginal penetration, fingering, creampie, multiple orgasms, pregnancy, scandals
LENGTH | 11,110 words
TAGLIST | @desirehorizon @sweetinsaniiity
NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity
@othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety @dove-net
AUTHOR’S NOTE | This was originally supposed to be a oneshot but thanks @kwanisms for beta-reading and suggesting to make it a two shot instead. The ending was originally too rushed so having it be a 2-parter will let me be able to flesh the plot for the second half to be just as dramatic and scandalous as this part so I hope you come to read it! Also thank you @kpop---scenarios for beta-reading the original fic and also giving me some suggestions to add as well! Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for the lovely banner! I really appreciate all you folks for helping me with the visual aspect and adding ideas~
The wine glass you held shook in your hand, your drink almost spilling into your lap. You couldn't count how many glasses you’d had tonight. Three? Maybe four? You let out a sigh. It didn't matter anyway. You just wanted to feel nothing. You didn't want to feel Taeho's disdain or the emptiness of a childless, laughterless house.
“Y/N, you okay?” Soojin asked, concerned.
You forced a smile and raised your glass. “Just having fun.” The lie tasted bitter, but you washed it down with more wine.
“You need this,” Jiwoo added. “You’ve been cooped up for ages.”
Ages. Fifteen long years.
Fifteen years of biting your tongue, of forced smiles, and enduring Taeho's cold indifference had chipped away at pieces of yourself you didn't know you could lose. It wasn't always like this at the beginning. Years ago, your family arranged a union between you and Taeho so he could enter the upper echelon of Seoul society. Taeho and his company helped fund your father's political campaign as the mayor. In turn, your father provided Taeho access into a more prestigious social circle. Taeho divorced his wife of nine years at the time, claiming that they fell out of love. But you knew he divorced her since she didn't come from a prominent family such as yours.
You never saw his ex-wife around much after the divorce. You knew he had a son but you only met him once when he was about nine or ten, months after your marriage to Taeho was official. You never saw him again since Taeho sent him abroad for boarding school.
When no children had appeared after five years of trying, Taeho blamed it on you. You tried, oh, you had tried for years. Doctors didn't know why it didn't work and neither did you. You took pills, ate a vegetarian diet, and all sorts of treatments, but Taeho berated you that nothing worked and blamed you for being "barren". He didn't want to divorce you, no you were far too valuable socially, and still could provide him with the perfect home. So while you remained, trapped, he'd fuck other women. You stopped caring, even though the emptiness threatened to consume you whole.
You were exhausted. So exhausted.
“Another round,” you called out, the waiter nodded and disappeared into the crowded bar. The dim lights, the scent of alcohol and perfume, and the sight of bodies pressed together on the dance floor filled you with envy. You longed for their freedom, their carelessness.
Laughter. Yours? Someone else’s? You couldn't care less as you lost yourself in the music, your body moving freely for the first time in years. And then you saw him, taller than you by a few inches, broad-shouldered, with a grin that made your heart skip. He exuded confidence, and his eyes met yours as if he'd been searching for you all night.
“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth and husky. He was close enough that you could smell the faint hint of cologne mingling with his sweat. Jongho, he introduced himself. All you could focus on was the way his gaze lingered, the way it made heat crawl up your neck.
“Careful,” Soojin whispered in your ear with a teasing tone. “He looks like trouble.”
Good, you thought, your fingers curling around Jongho’s as he pulled you closer. Trouble sounded better than the quiet despair waiting for you at home.
The rest of the night was a blur of touch and sound, of hands roaming and lips brushing against each others. You didn’t think about Taeho. Didn’t think about the consequences. There was only this moment, this man who made you feel wanted in a way you hadn’t felt in years.
When you woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the unfamiliar curtains. Your head throbbed, the taste of last night’s indulgences sour on your tongue. And then you felt it—the warmth of another body beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Jongho.
You panicked and then everything seem to come back to you. Memories of his hands on your waist, his mouth on your neck, the way he’d whispered promises you knew he couldn’t keep. Memories of kissing him nonstop, bouncing on his thick, hardㅡ
You tried to get out of the bedsheets that you were tangled in but his arm tightened around you, pulling you back against his chest.
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His breath tickled your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“I should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The guilt was already settling in, heavy and suffocating. What have you done?
Jongho propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. His expression was soft, almost tender, but there was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place.
“Stay,” he said, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just a little longer.”
You shook your head, pulling away from his touch. “I can’t.”
The weight of what you’d done pressed down on you, the guilt sharp and unrelenting. You needed to go home, to face whatever was waiting for you there.
Jongho’s hand lingered in the air for a moment before he let it drop, his expression shifting into something more neutral.
“Alright,” he said simply, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. He didn’t press, didn’t try to convince you to stay, and for that, you were grateful. "Can I at least get your number?"
You exchanged phone numbers without hesitation, a tiny voice inside whispering that it was wrong. Despite being married, you'd given your number to a stranger, pretending it was simply to stay in touch. But his smile as he thanked you and left his contact information was so handsome...
Scrambling out of bed, you searched for your scattered clothes. Jongho's silent gaze followed you, heavy with unspoken words. Fully dressed, you hesitated at the door, your hand on the knob. This had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment, and you refused to let it define you.
“Take care of yourself,” Jongho said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost kind, but there was a distance in his tone that hadn’t been there last night.
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and opened the door. The hallway outside was dimly lit, the early morning light filtering through the windows at the far end. You stepped out, closing the door behind you, and took a deep breath.
The walk home was a blur, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. What would Taeho say? Would he even notice you’d been gone? The questions gnawed at you, but there were no answers, only the cold reality of what lay ahead.
As you approached your house, the familiar facade loomed like a silent judge. You paused at the gate, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it. Time to face the consequences of your actions, whatever they might be.
With a shaky breath, you pushed open the gate and walked inside, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you.
The days after that night with Jongho passed in a haze. Your husband, Taeho, was, as usual, distant and dismissive, barely acknowledging your presence except to criticize or complain. The weight of your guilt pressed down on you, but so did something else—something darker, hungrier, more unsettling. You tried to push it away, bury it under the monotony of your daily routine, but it lingered like a shadow at the edges of your mind.
Then, one evening, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it casually, expecting another mundane notification. But what you saw made your breath catch in your throat. It was a photo from that handsome man.
Jongho and a photo of his hard cock.
Your eyes widened, and your heart began to race. The image was unmistakable: thick, veined, and erect, resting against a backdrop of plain white sheets. Below it, a message: “Can’t stop thinking about you. Want to meet again?”
You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly. Part of you wanted to delete the message instantly, to pretend it never happened. But another part of you—a part that had been dormant for so long—stirred awake. The memory of that night flooded back: his hands on your skin, his lips against yours, the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years.
Before you could stop yourself, you typed a reply: “Why are you doing this?”
The response came almost immediately: “Because I want you. And I think you want me too.”
You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. He wasn’t wrong. The truth clawed at you, undeniable. You wanted him. Craved him. Even now, just the thought of him sent a flicker of heat through your core.
“This is dangerous,” you replied, your fingers moving almost of their own accord.
“So is staying in a marriage that makes you miserable,” he shot back.
His words hit you like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t saying anything you hadn’t already thought, but hearing it laid bare like that—it was jarring. You felt exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a strange relief in it, too. Someone else saw it. Someone else knew.
“What do you want from me?” you asked, your fingers hesitating over the keys.
“You. Just you,” he answered simply. “Meet me tonight. Let me show you how good it can be.”
Your mind raced. This was insane. Reckless. Dangerous. And yet, the idea of seeing him again—of feeling that fire once more—was intoxicating. You glanced toward the living room, where Taeho sat immersed in his work, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside you.
“Where?” you typed before you could talk yourself out of it.
He sent an address, followed by: “Wear something sexy.”
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You moved through the motions of dinner and conversation with Taeho, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Later, as you dressed in the dim light of your bedroom, your hands shook as you fastened the clasp of your bra. You chose a simple black dress, one that hugged your curves in all the right places—not too revealing, but enough to make you feel confident. When you added a touch of perfume, your reflection in the mirror looked almost like a stranger.
This is really happening, you thought, your stomach twisting with nerves and anticipation.
You slipped out of the house quietly, leaving Taeho engrossed in his nightly routine. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you walked to the address Jongho had given you. It was a sleek, modern building in a trendy part of town, far removed from the quiet streets you called home.
When you arrived, Jongho was waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “You came,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“I shouldn’t have,” you replied, though the way your body reacted to him—the way your pulse quickened, your skin tingled—said otherwise.
He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over you. “But you did,” he murmured, his hand brushing against yours. “And I’m glad.”
You hesitated, torn between guilt and desire. But when his fingers interlaced with yours, pulling you gently toward the door, you didn’t resist. Inside, the apartment was stylish and minimalist, lit by soft, ambient lighting. He led you to the couch, his touch firm but tender.
“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes lingering on you as you sat down. “Better than I remembered.”
You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that stole your breath. It was deep, hungry, electric. Every nerve in your body came alive, and you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor.
His hands wandered, exploring your body with a confidence that left you weak. He pulled away just long enough to murmur, “Let me see you,” before slowly unzipping your dress. The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling at your waist. His eyes darkened as they roamed over your exposed skin, and his fingers traced the curve of your collarbone.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice raw with desire.
"Wait..." you pushed away from him slightly. "How old are you exactly?"
"Twenty-four. Why do you ask?" Jongho answered in a rasp, eyes wandering. "Does that... bother you? That I'm much younger?"
You pursed your lips. You hadn't expected him to be that young. It should've bothered you—after all, Taeho was twenty years older than you were—but there was something alluring about the youthful vigor Jongho possessed.
"It doesn't bother you that I'm fifteen years older than you? You don't want to be with someone more... your age?" you asked cautiously.
"I don't care about our age differences," Jongho shrugged, lifting his index finger and running it down the edge of your jaw.
"It's different though—"
"How? You told me that you're married to someone twenty years older than yourself and he sees other women besides. Tell me how is that any different," he cuts you off with a frown.
He's right. Your husband had affairs left and right while you were home alone, stuck raising yourself. And each time you tried to end things, Taeho would guilt-trip you and say how your father would be disappointed since his political and social ties benefited both yours and Taeho's families. And after so many years, married to your father's friend, you were resigned to living with your unfaithful spouse and being a trophy wife for his events and parties.
Tears fill your eyes at the realization and you suddenly want to feel something other than loneliness.
Jongho tilts his head and reaches out to run his fingertips along the creases of your jaw. He has a curious expression. "What if I can help you forget him for a few hours...?" Jongho husked. "Help take your mind off your troubles."
"Just for a few hours?" you echo, your gaze darkening as the question dances on the edge of your lips. "What if I wanted more...?"
"All you have to do is say the word," he promises.
His smile grows, and the way its slow curve travels across his face sends shivers down your spine. He trails a hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. You feel the warmth radiating from his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, and it makes you dizzy.
“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours “Tell me what you want.”
You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your decisions pressing down on you. But then, the memory of Taeho’s cold indifference floods your mind, and something inside you snaps. The guilt, the shame, the years of loneliness—they all dissolve under Jongho’s gaze.
“I want more,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire.
Jongho doesn’t need any further encouragement. In one swift motion, he lifts you off the ground, his arms strong and sure around you. You let out a startled laugh, but it quickly turns into a gasp as he carries you towards his bedroom. The world blurs around you, and all you can focus on is the way his muscles flex beneath his thin shirt and the warmth of his breath against your neck.
He kicks the door open with his foot and sets you down gently on the edge of his bed. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. You glance around nervously, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of intimacy, and the vulnerability is almost overwhelming.
But Jongho doesn’t give you time to dwell on your fears. He kneels before you, his hands sliding up your thighs and sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, and you can see the hunger burning within them.
“Relax,” he says softly, his voice like velvet. “Let me take care of you.”
His hands move higher, pushing your dress up around your hips. You bite your lip, feeling exposed and yet incredibly alive. His touch is deliberate, every movement calculated to drive you wild. When his fingers finally brush against the lace of your panties, you can’t help but moan.
“So sensitive,” he teases, his breath hot against your skin. “I wonder how much more I can make you squirm.”
Before you can respond, he leans in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. The sensation is electric, and you involuntarily arch your back, craving more. He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through your body as he continues to trail kisses along your legs.
When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Is this where you want me?” he asks, his voice low and husky.
You nod frantically, unable to form coherent words. The anticipation is driving you mad, and you can feel the heat pooling between your legs. Satisfied with your response, Jongho hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them down, tossing them aside without a second thought.
The cool air hits your core, making you shiver, but his mouth quickly replaces it, warm and insistent against your most sensitive area. You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as his tongue flicks against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
“Oh god,” you moan, your hips bucking against him. “Don’t stop…”
He doesn’t. Instead, he takes you deeper, his tongue exploring every inch of you with expert precision. You’re lost in the sensations, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, and you can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable.
Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Jongho pulls away, leaving you whimpering in frustration. He stands up, towering over you, and begins to unbutton his shirt. His movements are slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. When the shirt falls to the floor, revealing his toned chest, you can’t help but reach out to trace the lines of his muscles with your fingertips.
He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he leans down to kiss you deeply. The taste of yourself on his lips is intoxicating, and you eagerly deepen the kiss, your tongues dancing together in a heated embrace.
When he breaks the kiss, you’re both panting, desperate for more. Jongho smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Lie back,” he commands, his voice firm but gentle.
You comply immediately, lying back against the pillows as he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you, spread out before him, completely vulnerable and utterly irresistible.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands running up your sides, tracing the curves of your body. “I could spend hours worshipping you.”
You blush at the compliment, feeling a surge of confidence despite your nervousness. Jongho notices your reaction and smiles, leaning down to capture your lips once more. This kiss is softer, more tender, and it makes your heart ache in the best possible way.
As the kiss deepens, his hands continue their exploration, mapping out every inch of your body with a reverence that leaves you breathless. His fingers glide over your breasts, teasing your nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp into the kiss, your hips instinctively grinding against his.
“Please,” you beg, breaking the kiss to look him in the eye. “I need you… now.”
Jongho groans, his self-control slipping as he positions himself at your entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice strained.
You nod, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pull him closer. “Yes. Please, Jongho… don’t make me wait any longer.”
With a final, lingering kiss, he pushes inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your body instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him deeper. He starts to move, slow and steady at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. But soon, the pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. Each one drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder with every passing second.
“You feel incredible,” Jongho growls, his hands gripping your hips as he pounds into you. “So tight… so perfect.”
You can barely think straight, your entire being focused on the sensations coursing through your body. Every nerve feels alight, every movement bringing you closer to the brink. When his fingers find your clit again, rubbing small circles against the sensitive nub, it’s all too much.
Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure radiate out from your core. Jongho follows close behind, burying his face in your neck as he spills himself inside you, his moans muffled against your skin.
For a moment, everything is still, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing of two people who have given themselves completely to each other. Then, slowly, Jongho pulls out, collapsing beside you on the bed.
You lie there, your bodies tangled together, basking in the afterglow of your passion. But even as you try to catch your breath, a thought lingers in the back of your mind: What happens next?
Jongho seems to sense your uncertainty. He turns to face you, propping himself up on one elbow as he studies your expression.
“Hey,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”
You hesitate, unsure if you should voice your concerns. But the warmth in his eyes encourages you to be honest.
“This… us. What does it mean?” you ask, your voice tinged with vulnerability.
Jongho’s gaze softens, and he pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It means whatever you want it to,” he replies, his tone reassuring. “We can take this as slow or as fast as you need. All that matters is that you’re happy.”
You feel a lump form in your throat, overwhelmed by his kindness and understanding. For the first time in years, you feel truly seen and valued.
But before you can formulate a response, Jongho’s phone buzzes loudly on the nightstand. The sound startles you both, and he reluctantly lets go of you to check the message.
His expression changes as he reads it, his brows furrowing in concern. “I’m sorry,” he says apologetically, “but I need to take this. It’s important.”
You nod, though you can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. As Jongho steps out of the room to answer the call, you’re left alone with your thoughts, wondering if this newfound happiness is too good to last.
"We have that charity gala tonight and it is imperative that you and I are in attendance," Taeho barks at you as he stomps around the living room, pulling items off the end tables and collecting the empty glasses on the coffee table. "We made the commitment months ago and our attendance is required. This is not an optional event."
"I know Taeho," you sipped your coffee and leaned back against the sofa. "Your suit for the gala is hanging in your room and your shoes have been polished. All that's left for you to do is to style your hair and wear the watch and cufflinks that I got you."
"And did you purchase a dress?" Taeho peered at you, placing the empty glasses on the table by the large armchair in front of the fire. "An appropriate one for your status?"
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and nodded. "I have it all under control," you sighed, "like I always do."
"What a dutiful wife you are," Taeho scoffed sarcastically, giving a half-assed chuckle, before turning serious. "Your father is coming over today to discuss a campaign that has started up with the opposing party. Make sure lunch is at its usual time and the maid has set the dining room accordingly," he huffed, "I don't need your father to chastise me for having a messy home."
"Yes Taeho," you replied, finishing your mug and moving into the kitchen.
When the doorbell rang, you heard Taeho shout for you and you went to open the door for your father. "Hi, daddy," you smiled warmly and leaned in for a hug.
"My little girl," your father chuckled warmly. "You look tired," he whispered to you as the maid took his coat and hat. "A woman of your caliber should always take care of themselves. If you ever need some money for a spa day, let me know," your father sighed softly. "I can only imagine the burdens of maintaining this house."
"Thank you, but that is what I have the maids for," you muttered politely. "Besides, you're busy and need to be taken care of too, daddy."
"Your mother makes sure I have all my meals prepared for me at the right times," he grinned at you and looked past you as Taeho approached. "Ah, Taeho, you look... aged, no offence."
"You too, my friend," Taeho laughed and the men hugged, clapping each other on the back. "I do hope the mayor's job has treated you well over the years."
"It has! Very busy but fulfilling," your father chuckled.
"Good, that's good!" Taeho nodded and moved towards the door to the kitchen. "Well, why don't we discuss some things over lunch hm? Shall we?"
Your father looked at you with concern etched in his wrinkles and nodded slowly. "Will you be joining us, Y/N?" he inquired. "I would love to catch up with my daughter and see what she's been up to."
"Not today, daddy," you shook your head. "I have a lot to prepare for the gala. You two enjoy your meal and I will see you later, alright?"
"Fine," he muttered and kissed the top of your head before following Taeho towards the dining room. "I'll see you later this evening, sweetheart. We will chat more then."
Once Taeho and your father disappeared into the other room, you let out a loud sigh, massaged your temple and made your way towards your bedroom to get ready for the night's charity gala.
Hours later, you stood in front of the mirror adjusting the straps of your emerald green, sparkling evening dress. It clung to your body in all the right places and revealed just enough skin that would turn a man's gaze your way. Taeho hated when you drew too much attention, but tonight, you needed the escape.
"A little form fitting for my taste," Taeho grunted as he fumbled with the buttons of his cufflinks. "But it will do. Come and assist me with the cufflinks."
You stepped into the bedroom and strode over to him. You slipped the first cufflink in and stared at him. "Did you have a nice afternoon with daddy?" you inquired softly, turning his hand gently and securing the second cufflink in place.
"Yes, it was very informative," Taeho grunted. "Nothing to worry your pretty, little head over," Taeho muttered. "Now let us go, I don't want us to be late."
The venue was a sprawling ballroom filled with the city’s elite. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter echoed off the high ceilings, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume. You clung to Taeho’s arm as he schmoozed with donors, forcing yourself to smile and nod at the right moments. His grip on your elbow was firm, almost possessive, and you felt the familiar weight of suffocation pressing down on you.
And then you saw him.
Jongho.
He stood near the bar, dressed in a sleek black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt on its axis. His eyes met yours, and you could tell from the way his jaw tightened that he was just as shocked to see you as you were to see him.
Taeho didn’t seem to notice your reaction. He steered you towards the bar where Jongho was, his voice booming with false cheer.
“Ah, there he is! My son,” he said, pulling you closer as if to emphasize the word my. “Jongho, come meet my wife.”
Son.
The word echoed in your head like a cruel joke. Your legs threatened to give out beneath you, but somehow, you managed to stay upright. Jongho approached slowly, his expression unreadable. Up close, you could see the tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hand as he extended it to greet you.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly, though his voice held a subtle edge. His fingers brushed against yours, and even that brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. You forced yourself to look away, afraid that one more second of eye contact would betray everything.
“Likewise,” you murmured, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. Taeho, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing between you and Jongho, clapped his son on the back.
“Jongho’s been living abroad for the past few years,” Taeho explained, his tone dripping with pride. “He’s finally decided to come home and take over the family business. Isn’t that right, son?”
Jongho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yes, Father. It’s time I took on more responsibility.”
You felt like you were drowning. The man who had held you in his arms just days ago, the man who had whispered sweet nothings into your ear, was now standing in front of you as your stepson. The irony was almost too much to bear.
The rest of the introductions passed in a haze. You couldn’t focus on anything except the heat radiating from Jongho’s body, the way his gaze lingered on you whenever Taeho wasn’t looking. When Taeho excused himself to speak with another donor, you found yourself alone with Jongho.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken questions and desires. Finally, Jongho broke it, his voice low and urgent. “We need to talk.”
You glanced around nervously, making sure no one was watching. “Not here,” you whispered. “It’s too risky.”
He nodded, his jaw tightening again. “Then when? Where?”
You hesitated, torn between fear and longing. “I… I don’t know.”
Jongho stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Don’t shut me out,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “Not after what we shared.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to reach out to him, to feel his arms around you once more, but the reality of your situation kept you rooted in place. “Jongho, this… this changes everything.”
“It doesn’t have to,” he insisted, his voice firm. “We can figure this out. Together.”
Before you could respond, Taeho reappeared, his loud voice cutting through the tension. “There you two are! Come, let’s get a photo for the press.”
You forced a smile, allowing Taeho to position you between him and Jongho. As the camera flashed, you felt Jongho’s hand brush against yours, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The contact was fleeting, but it was enough to reignite the fire burning within you.
As the night wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at Jongho whenever you could. Each time, he seemed to be watching you too, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your heart race. The forbidden nature of your attraction only made it more irresistible, and you knew you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous.
Finally, as the guests began to leave, you spotted Jongho slipping out onto the balcony. Your pulse quickened. Without thinking, you followed him, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat rising in your chest.
He turned as you approached, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. “I was hoping you’d come,” he admitted, his voice rough.
You stepped closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “Jongho, we can’t… this isn’t…”
He cut you off, closing the distance between you in one swift movement. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.
“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. How could you deny it when every fiber of your being was screaming for him? Without thinking, you reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer.
His lips crashed against yours, hungry and desperate. The kiss was electric, sending sparks shooting through every nerve in your body. You melted into him, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you could reach. His grip on you tightened, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, you realized the gravity of what you’d just done.
“This… this can’t happen,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.
Jongho’s eyes burned with determination. “It already has,” he replied, his voice fierce. “And it will again.”
The car ride home was stifling. The silence between you and Taeho was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of the evening pressing down on your chest. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, but your mind was elsewhere—on Jongho, on that kiss, on the way his hands had felt against your skin.
Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“Jongho will be moving in with us,” he said, his voice calm but firm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Your stomach dropped.
“What?” you managed to choke out, tearing your gaze from the window to look at him. His face was expressionless, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“He needs a place to stay while he gets settled,” Taeho continued, as if this were some mundane detail about groceries or bills. “And I think it’s time he reconnects with his family.”
The word "family" echoed cruelly in your mind. You wanted to scream, to object, to reveal the truth about that night with Jongho, the message, the balcony. But your throat tightened, silencing you, and you could only swallow hard and nod.
“He’ll start calling you mother,” Taeho added casually, as though he were discussing the weather. “It’s only proper, after all.”
Mother.
You opened your mouth to argue, to say anything, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you even say? That you couldn’t bear to hear Jongho call you that? That it would remind you of what you’d done, of what you still wanted to do?
You looked away, gripping the edge of your seat so tightly your knuckles turned white. The rest of the ride passed in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional honk of a passing car. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you felt numb, like you were floating outside your body.
Taeho got out first, not waiting for you. You followed slowly, dragging your feet as if delaying the inevitable might somehow change it. Inside, the house was quiet, but there was a new presence in the air—a tension that hadn’t been there before. You hesitated in the foyer, unsure of where to go or what to do.
“Jongho will be here tomorrow,” Taeho said, tossing his keys onto the table. “Make sure his room is ready.”
You nodded quietly, your mind racing. His room. The guest room, the one downstairs, far enough from yours to give the illusion of propriety but close enough to make your heart race. You wondered if Jongho would feel it too—the pull, the magnetism that seemed to draw you together no matter how hard you tried to resist.
That night, sleep was impossible. You tossed and turned, your thoughts consumed by Jongho—his smile, his touch, the way he’d kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered. And now, he’d be living here, under the same roof, calling you mother. It was madness, a cruel twist of fate that you couldn’t escape.
The next morning, you woke up exhausted, your head pounding and your nerves frayed. You dressed quickly, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t want to see the guilt etched into your face, the longing you couldn’t hide.
By mid-afternoon, the doorbell rang, and your heart leapt into your throat. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your skirt before answering the door. There he was, standing on the doorstep with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever.
“Mother,” he said, the word slipping off his tongue like honey, sweet and dangerous. His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.
“Jongho,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. He stepped inside, brushing past you, and the air between you crackled with electricity. You closed the door slowly, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The moment you turned around, he was right there, closer than he should have been.
“This is going to be… interesting,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. You shivered, your pulse quickening as his hand brushed against yours.
“We can’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a look, his eyes dark with desire.
“Can’t we?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. You glanced nervously toward the stairs, half-expecting Taeho to appear at any moment, but the house was silent.
Before you could stop yourself, you reached out, your fingers grazing his. He responded instantly, his hand closing around yours, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost touching. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.
Tell me you don’t want this, his eyes seemed to say, and you knew you couldn’t. Because you did. More than anything. But the rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to push him away, to remember who you were and what was at stake.
But then he kissed you, and all those thoughts evaporated. His lips were soft but insistent, demanding a response you couldn’t deny. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, tangling in his hair. His grip tightened, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you.
When he broke the kiss, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.
“This is wrong,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.
“Is it?” he asked, his voice husky. He pressed another kiss to your lips, softer this time, more tender. “Or is it just… inevitable?”
The tension between you and Jongho hung thick in the air, unresolved yet undeniable. Every glance, every accidental brush of hands as you moved through the house felt like a spark waiting to ignite. Taeho’s announcement of a family dinner that evening only deepened the unease.
“Jongho,” Taeho called from the study, his voice carrying an authority that made your stomach knot. “You’ll join us for dinner. I want to discuss the future.”
Jongho glanced at you, his eyes dark with unspoken words. This is dangerous, your mind screamed, but your body betrayed you, heat pooling low in your belly as you remembered the way his lips had claimed yours just hours ago. He nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course, Father.”
The day stretched on, each hour crawling by as you tried to keep yourself busy. You straightened the living room, polished the silverware, anything to distract yourself from the storm brewing inside you. And all the while, Jongho lingered, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake.
By the time dinner rolled around, the table was set immaculately, the aroma of the meal filling the air. Taeho took his place at the head of the table, authoritative as ever, while you sat across from Jongho. The distance felt insurmountable yet too close all at once.
As you passed the dishes, your fingers brushed against Jongho’s, sending a jolt through your system. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, his eyes burning with something primal, something forbidden. You quickly looked away, but the damage was done.
Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“I’ve been thinking about our family,” he began, his tone serious. “It’s time we start planning for the future. Jongho will be taking on more responsibilities in the company, and you,” he turned to you, his gaze piercing, “will need to support him as his mother.”
You forced a smile, nodding obediently. “Of course, Taeho.”
Jongho’s jaw tightened, his fork clinking softly against his plate. He didn’t look at you, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.
“Father,” he said carefully, “I appreciate your confidence in me. But I’m still learning. There’s no need to rush things.”
Taeho waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. You’re more than capable. It’s time we solidify our legacy.”
Dinner dragged on, the conversation stilted and formal. You barely tasted the food, your senses hyper-aware of Jongho’s every move. When Taeho finally pushed his chair back and announced he was retiring to his study, relief flooded you, though it was short-lived.
“Don’t forget to clear the table,” he said as he left, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You mechanically gathered the dishes, the clattering of plates and the hum of the refrigerator the only sounds in the silent kitchen.
Jongho rose beside you, his movements measured and slow. “Are you okay?”
You froze, the question hanging heavy between you. No, you wanted to say. None of this is okay. But instead, you nodded, keeping your eyes locked on the sink. “I’m fine.”
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
Your breath caught, your pulse quickening. “We can’t do this,” you whispered, though every fiber of your being screamed otherwise. “He’s your father.”
“And you’re not my mother,” he shot back, his voice firm. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “You know what this is. What we are.”
You turned to face him, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. This is wrong, your rational mind protested, but your body leaned into his touch, craving the connection you couldn’t deny.
Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Both of you jumped apart, your hearts racing. Taeho appeared in the doorway, his brow furrowed.
“What’s taking so long?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.
Jongho straightened, his mask of composure slipping back into place. “Just finishing up, Father.”
Taeho grunted, clearly unconvinced, but he made no further comment. “Don’t dawdle. There’s work to be done.”
He disappeared again, leaving you both standing there, the weight of his suspicion hanging over you.
Once you were certain he was gone, you let out a shaky breath. “This is impossible,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
Jongho’s hand found yours, squeezing gently. “Nothing worth having is easy.”
His words sent a thrill through you, but the fear of discovery lingered. “We’re playing with fire,” you warned, though you didn’t pull away.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Then let’s burn.”
Heat surged through you, your resolve wavering. This is madness, part of you knew, but the rest of you didn’t care. The pull between you was too strong to resist, the promise of passion too tempting to ignore.
But before either of you could act, the sound of Taeho’s voice calling for Jongho shattered the moment. You stepped back hastily, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing.
Jongho hesitated, his eyes locking with yours one last time. “Later,” he promised, his voice low and full of intent.
Then he was gone, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your thoughts spiraling. Later. The word echoed in your mind, a promise and a threat all at once. You didn’t know what would happen next, but one thing was certain: you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and there was no turning back now.
The days following Jongho’s arrival were a strange mix of tension and anticipation. Taeho’s announcement at dinner had only deepened the unease, but it also left you with a lingering sense of curiosity—and dread. Every glance exchanged with Jongho felt charged, every accidental brush of hands sending jolts of electricity through your body. You tried to remind yourself of the consequences, of the chaos this could unleash, but the reckless part of you didn’t care.
It was a quiet afternoon when Taeho dropped the news. He stood in the living room, his suitcase already packed, and announced he would be leaving for a business trip the next morning.
“I’ll be gone for three days,” he said, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “Jongho will stay here. I expect you both to manage things while I’m away.”
You nodded, keeping your expression neutral, but inside, your heart raced. Three days alone with Jongho. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.
Taeho’s departure the next morning was almost too easy. He gave you a curt nod and reminded Jongho to keep an eye on the household affairs before heading out the door. The moment it clicked shut behind him, the air in the house seemed to shift. It was just you and Jongho now.
For the first hour, you busied yourself with mundane tasks—tidying up, making tea, anything to avoid being alone with him. But fate, or perhaps something else, had other plans. Jongho found you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared blankly at the stove.
“Nervous?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.
You turned to face him, your cheeks flushing despite yourself. “Should I be?”
He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “That depends on you.”
There was a boldness in his eyes that made your breath catch. You knew what he was implying, and though every rational part of your brain screamed at you to walk away, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that.
“Jongho…” you started, but your voice trailed off as he closed the distance between you.
His hands rested on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”
You couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, you reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. That was all the encouragement he needed.
His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his chest pressed against yours, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not Taeho, not the consequences, not the guilt that lingered at the edges of your mind.
Jongho’s hands slid down your sides, his touch sending shivers through you. When he lifted you onto the counter, you barely had time to register what was happening before his lips were on your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored further.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice husky with desire.
His words sent a thrill through you. Beautiful. How long had it been since someone had said that to you? Since someone had looked at you the way Jongho was looking at you now?
You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliged, pulling it off in one swift motion, and then his hands were back on you, unbuttoning your blouse with practiced ease. When his fingers brushed against your bare skin, you gasped, the sensation almost too much to bear.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and intense.
You hesitated for just a moment, but then you nodded. “Yes.”
That single word seemed to unleash something in him. He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands roaming freely over your body. When he finally slipped your bra off, you felt a rush of vulnerability mixed with excitement. His mouth found your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple, and you let out a whimper.
“Jongho…” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.
He didn’t respond, too focused on exploring every inch of you. When his hand dipped lower, sliding beneath the waistband of your skirt, you tensed, your hips instinctively bucking against his touch.
“Relax,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you.”
And somehow, you believed him. As his fingers found their way between your thighs, you let go, surrendering to the pleasure he was giving you. Each stroke, each caress, built the tension inside you until you were teetering on the edge.
“Jongho, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as he added another finger, pushing you over the edge.
Your body shook with the force of your release, your vision blurring as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Jongho held you steady, his arms strong and reassuring, until the tremors subsided.
When you finally opened your eyes, you found him watching you with a mixture of pride and hunger. “Still nervous?” he asked, a sly smile playing on his lips.
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not anymore.”
He kissed you again, softer this time, before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”
Before you could respond, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you towards his bedroom. “Jongho!” you squealed, half-laughing, half-protesting.
“Trust me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you did.
He carried you effortlessly and set you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He undressed the rest of your clothes slowly, peppering your skin with light kisses as he exposed each new part of you. By the time you were fully naked, you were trembling with anticipation.
Jongho ran his hands over your body, worshipping every inch of you. A low hum rumbled deep in his chest, and a smile spread across his face. You shivered, suddenly feeling shy under his scrutiny.
Before you could speak, he kissed you, and any thoughts of embarrassment faded away. He explored every curve, every line, leaving no part of you untouched. You moaned, arching into his touch. Your nails dug into the sheets, grasping at anything to ground you, as his thumb brushed against the most intimate parts of you.
He pulled away only long enough to free himself of his remaining clothes, and your eyes raked down the planes of his toned, muscular body. As he knelt over you, your gaze locked onto his, and you saw the same hunger reflected back at you. You reached for him, and he lowered himself onto you, his chest pressed firmly against yours. His cock was hot and heavy between your thighs, and you instinctively shifted your hips towards him.
"Impatient, aren't you?" Jongho whispered, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.
"Jongho, I need..." your words trailed off into a gasp as he rocked his hips, rubbing himself against your clit. "Oh god, I need you."
"How much?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours.
"So much,” you grabbed his ass, trying to pull him closer.
He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Good, because I need you too."
"Really?" you asked, your heart pounding.
"Always," he whispered as he pushed inside you.
Your nails dug into his back as he filled you up. He waited a moment, letting you adjust to his size, before starting to move. Your head spun with the sensation of it, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you.
"You feel amazing," he grunted, his lips pressing hot, urgent kisses to your skin. "So wet for me."
Your breath hitched as he hit that sweet spot deep inside you. "Please, Jongho, don't stop."
You had no idea where this was going to go. Part of you, the rational part, screamed at you to end it here, to call a stop and walk away. This was dangerous, it knew, but it felt too good to be wrong.
Your toes curled as the pleasure built, a delicious tightness coiling in the pit of your stomach. Jongho's hand slipped down to rub slow, firm circles over your clit and the combination nearly made you come undone.
"Jongho, I—" you gasped. Your body began to shake as you came.
He gritted his teeth, trying not to cum himself as the feeling of you convulsing around his cock almost tipped him over the edge. As soon as you came down, he slipped out of you.
"Why'd you stop?" you asked.
"Don't want to cum just yet, we're just getting started," he said.
Jongho sat up, shifting so that he was sitting against the headboard and patted his legs. "Want you to ride me," he murmured before claiming your lips again.
You let him guide you, swinging a leg over to straddle him. His lips traveled to your neck as you lowered yourself, grinding your pussy on his thick, hard member, coating him in your slickness.
Jongho nipped at your skin, mumbling praises as he peppered light, gentle kisses. "Need you," he moaned into your neck, sucking on your pulse and letting you know you left your mark.
"Oh fuck," you gasped, picking up your movements and pulling him closer.
He was big, filling you up and stretching you in a way that you'd never experienced. It was hard to believe that he was Taeho's son; you never saw this kind of sexual expertise from your husband, not in a lifetime.
You lifted your head, meeting his gaze with an openness you weren't familiar with. For the first time, you took a moment to just look at him.
He looked back with a hungry gaze, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other roamed up your sides, then cupped your face as he kissed you. You felt yourself melting into him, into this whole thing that had gotten entirely out of hand. You had always told yourself you weren't the cheating type, yet you were right there doing just that, riding your husband's son in ways you could hardly have imagined doing before tonight.
"You okay?" Jongho asked gently, studying your expression.
"More than okay," you hummed. "I feel perfect."
And it was the truth, no matter how insane it was. You leaned into him, gripping his shoulders as you rode his cock. "I can't remember the last time I felt this happy," you muttered.
It wasn't the sex. Sure, the sex was incredible, but there was something deeper that made you feel so whole. Like something had fallen into place, like something had made the clouds disappear to show the stars. It was dangerous, but you couldn't stop.
"This, us, it's insane but I can't stop," you panted. "I don't want it to end. Ever. I'm scared we'll have to hide once your father returns and—"
Jongho kissed you, tenderly and lovingly. "Shh, it's okay. We'll figure it out together," he said soothingly. "Forget everything else tonight. Right now, it's just you and me. No one else."
You couldn't help the laugh that escaped from your lips. "No one else...just us."
"Just us. I'm yours, and you're mine," Jongho spoke between kisses, trailing his lips down to your collarbone where his teeth scraped your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. "No one else."
"No one else..." you breathed, losing yourself in the feeling of him inside of you.
The conversation paused as he bounced you faster on his length, pulling another long moan from you. Then he took your face in his hand and stroked your cheek.
"God, you're perfect. The most gorgeous thing I've ever laid my eyes on," he mused, bringing your lips to his. He gave you a searing kiss and tugged at your bottom lip before pulling back. "What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."
You pressed your forehead to his. "Keep fucking me," you begged. "Fuck me so hard and deep."
"I've got you." He flipped the both of you, never slipping out of you. "Gonna take care of you," he growled into your ear. "Going to keep your pussy so stuffed."
God, you weren't used to a younger, virile man treating you like a sex goddess. You were the wife of one of the richest men in the country, and your husband refused to fuck you for years now. And suddenly you were with his son, and god, he was fucking amazing.
With both of his palms holding down your shoulders to the bed, he pounded hard and deep into you. The sound of your skin slapping together sounded down the hallway, but neither of you cared.
"Oh, fuck, sweetheart," Jongho hissed. "Gonna keep your cunt stuffed with my cum. Make you so full, fuck a baby into you..."
"God yes, Jongho," you mewled.
You couldn't get pregnant, you knew that already. But the idea of being completely ruined by this young man made your heart sing with delight. You wanted nothing more than to be a mother. You always dreamed about a home filled with kids and laughter. You were thirty-nine, far past the ideal time for starting a family, but the thought of having a child with Jongho didn't scare you as it would if Taeho were your baby's father. You'd be far happier having your firstborn with someone who actually gave a shit. Someone loving and attentive, even if he was years younger than you.
"Tell me you want it," Jongho groaned into the crook of your neck, pressing sweet and soft kisses along your heated skin. "Say yes."
You bucked against Jongho's hard thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation.
"Yes, fuck, I do. Want it, want you, all of it, all of you," you chanted, words slipping past your tongue, leaving a bittersweet trail of its remnants.
Your words only drove him to be faster, rougher, harder. His pace was maddening, but exactly what you craved. It wasn't long until the familiar buzz started to make itself known in the pit of your belly. Your toes curled and fingers clawed the sheets as the first shock of your release rippled through you, making your pussy clench hard around Jongho's thickness.
"F-fuck, oh god, Jongho," you gasped.
Jongho kept going, his hand cupping one of your bouncing breasts and the other grabbing you by your neck. "That's it, beautiful. Cum all over this fat cock of yours," he grunted, pushing deeper in you.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck," you sputtered incoherently, eyes screwing shut as your orgasm wracked you.
As you came, you felt him thrust once, twice before finally bottoming out deep into your cervix and cumming in hot spurts. He stilled, allowing his seed to travel inside you, as deep as he could push. You could feel yourself spasm around him, your orgasm seemingly never ending.
His pace gradually slowed to a stop, both of you just trying to catch your breath. When Jongho lifted his head and glanced down at your limp, sweaty form, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, easing his weight off your smaller body to allow you room to breathe. You couldn't help but giggle weakly.
"God, you're amazing," you complimented. You winced, though, as he slowly slid himself out, the friction against your sensitive walls making you squirm a little. Jongho laid beside you and propped his head on one arm, the other running down your side, holding onto you.
You hummed, eyes slipping shut, not quite hearing Jongho's soft confession. "I think I love you."
The nausea hit you like a wave, sudden and unrelenting. You’d been feeling off for weeks—fatigue that clung to your bones, a lingering queasiness that no amount of ginger tea could soothe. At first, you dismissed it as stress, the weight of your secret life with Jongho pressing down on your shoulders. But this… this was different.
You leaned against the cool tile wall of the bathroom, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Taeho hadn’t noticed anything amiss, too preoccupied with his business dealings and late-night meetings. But Jongho… he’d caught the faint tremble in your hands, the way you’d pushed your food around your plate during dinner last night.
“Are you okay?” he’d asked, his voice low with concern. You’d brushed him off, laughed it away, but now, alone in the quiet of the house, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.
You knew you couldn’t go to your usual doctor. The risk of Taeho finding out was too great. Instead, you made an appointment at your maternal family’s hospital, a place where your name still carried enough weight to ensure discretion. The drive there felt surreal, the city streets blurring past as your mind raced with possibilities. What if it’s just a virus? What if it’s something worse?
The waiting room was sterile and quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights adding to your anxiety. When your name was called, you followed the nurse with robotic steps, barely registering her polite chatter. The exam room was colder than you remembered, the paper gown scratchy against your skin. The doctor, a woman with kind eyes and a calm demeanor, ran through the standard questions. How long have you been feeling this way? Any other symptoms? When was your last period?
That last question made you pause. You couldn’t remember. It had been so long since you’d even thought about it.
“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The doctor nodded, jotting something down on her clipboard before ordering a series of tests.
The wait for the results felt endless. You sat on the edge of the exam table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. When the doctor returned, her expression was unreadable. She closed the door softly behind her before turning to face you.
“Well,” she began, her tone measured, “the good news is, you’re perfectly healthy. The nausea and fatigue are likely due to—”
“Due to what?” you asked, your voice trembling.
The doctor smiled gently. “Due to your pregnancy.”
For a moment, the words didn’t register. They hung in the air between you, heavy and impossible.
“P-pregnancy?” you stammered, your mind reeling. “But… that’s not possible. I was told I couldn’t conceive.”
“Sometimes,” the doctor explained, her tone soothing, “miracles happen. Based on your test results, you’re about eight weeks along. Congratulations.”
A baby. Jongho’s baby.
The implications crashed over you like a tidal wave—Taeho’s reaction, your family’s expectations, society's judgment. And yet, beneath the panic, there was a flicker of something else. Something warm and hopeful. A tiny flame of joy that refused to be extinguished.
You left the hospital in a daze, the doctor’s instructions and prenatal vitamins tucked into your bag. The world outside seemed brighter somehow, the colors more vivid, the sounds sharper. You needed to talk to Jongho. He deserved to know. But how would he react? Would he see this as a blessing or a curse? And how the hell were you going to explain this to Taeho?
When you arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. Taeho was away on another business trip, and Jongho was… well, you weren’t sure where he was. You wandered aimlessly through the rooms, your mind racing with thoughts and fears. Finally, you found yourself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared out the window at the garden.
“Hey,” Jongho’s voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. How do you even begin to tell someone something like this? Sensing your hesitation, Jongho crossed the room in a few quick strides, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders.
“Talk to me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I… I went to the doctor today.”
His frown deepened. “Is everything okay? Are you sick?”
You shook your head, your fingers twisting nervously in the hem of your shirt. “No. Not sick. I’m… I’m pregnant.”
For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so radiant it made your heart ache.
“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.
You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Eight weeks.”
He let out a breathless laugh, pulling you into a tight embrace. “This is incredible,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re going to have a baby.”
His joy was contagious, and you felt yourself relaxing into his arms, the tension in your body melting away. But then, the reality of your situation came rushing back, and you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with worried eyes. “What are we going to do about Taeho? About… everything?”
Jongho cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and determined. “We’ll figure it out. Together. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Do you mean that?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
“Every word,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. “You’re mine. This baby is ours. And nothing,nothing, is going to take that away from us.”
You wanted to believe him, to let yourself get lost in the promise of his words. But the weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was only just beginning.
#illusionnet#cromernet#kvanity#other side outlaws network#ksmutsociety#dovenet#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez stories#ateez fanfics#ateez imagines#ateez smut#ateez jongho#jongho#choi jongho#jongho smut#jongho x reader
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Kitsune!Joshua (SVT) | Heartbreak angst | 0.9k | gn!reader warnings: mentions of violence, kidnapping A/N: there's also this +1 drabble bcs i ended up lowkey hating it and tried to save it by writing this
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. That’s what the others told him. All of them. Every single one of them is telling him the same thing, advising him, lecturing him.
None of them knows what it feels like. They’re all oblivious, ignorant. Joshua feels like they’re trying to loom over him, mock him, pity him. All they do is try to make him feel small but he won’t let them.
They have no idea.
He wants to bare his teeth. He can feel his lips curling up and exposing the long fangs just seconds before he buries them in their throats and feels the warm blood filling his mouth.
He’s not weak. He’s not pitiful.
Nobody but him knows what it’s like.
It makes him bristle, the way they’ve been looking at him since he told them. Like a rabid beast, all he wants to do is bite and tear.
In all honesty it’s not their fault. He played his game, only he didn’t win. Not even a stupid prize. But the whole situation reminds him why foxes don’t live in packs like wolves do.
They’ve all been warned against falling for a human being, they’ve all heard the tales of how such love stories end, and yet his own friends don’t have his back.
Well they certainly won’t get any sympathy from Joshua should anything happen to them ever again.
Yet he feels the tension completely roll off his shoulders once he lands softly on the floor, his paws barely making any noise on the plush carpet in your bedroom. It’s just as well, you’re tossing and turning on the bed, restless. All he wants to do once he stands at the foot of your bed as a man, for the most part, is to crawl next to you and wrap you in his arms.
His gaze might wake you sooner or later, he knows. He’s still undecided whether he should let you see him or not. His ears twitch at the top of his head, your neighbours are still awake so he’d have to be quick to stop your cries for help. Not an issue. He’s always been a good hunter.
Maybe you’ll change your mind if you see how crazy in love he is for you?
Foxes only fall in love once. Once. In their neverending lives, only one person gets to own their heart. It’s beyond cruel, Joshua understands that now, despite always believing it was romantic. Beautiful, even. How foolish he was.
He licks his lips. Your neck is bared to his hungry eyes and his teeth itch to embed themselves into your throat. To mark you, to taste you. Perhaps to hurt you a little, after all.
His tail swishes silently behind him. He can’t stay still anymore. Or he really might pounce and do something he’d regret later. Perching carefully on your bed, he studies you for a few minutes. You’re really not getting any sleep, are you, you poor thing? From this close, his heart aches for you. He can sense your distress, but it’d be pointless to step inside your dreams if you’d just startle awake. Sweat glistens on your skin and he smooths out the wrinkle between your brows with a gentle touch. He has to stop his tail from moving when you don’t wake up. When you lean closer. See? You know, deep down, that he’s good for you. That you need him.
You’re so soft. So weak and vulnerable. And yet it’s you who holds his heart in your hands. He knows how the story ends. You’d tear the tender muscle apart like a savage splitting a pomegranate.
He swallows and in the darkness of your room, Joshua allows himself a quiet whimper. Why won’t you love him? There exist creatures more monstrous than he is. He loves you. He’d protect you. He’d care for you. He’d grant you immortal life to spend with him. He’d worship you. His ears flatten against his head and his tail hangs limply. Do you know you’re the only person he’s ever looked so fondly at? Would you even care?
He moves his hand to the top of your head next, slowly stroking your hair. You start to settle, and he can only smile wistfully. Why won’t you listen to your heart? Surely you love him too, don’t you?
He doesn’t know everything there is to know about humans, but he knows you. And he knows you wouldn’t share a bed with him, wouldn’t make love with him unless you loved him. The way you look at him, or at least how you did before tonight, couldn’t be mistaken for anything. It was love.
Joshua feels the anger rise up inside of him again. If you love him, then what’s the issue? He won’t abandon you, he won’t love anyone else - he physically can’t. What are you so afraid of… Yet his touch remains gentle. Deep down you know he’s what’s best for you, only your weak human heart fights the truth. It’s alright. He can wait. You lean into his touch when he caresses your cheek and he smiles. For you, he can wait centuries.
The noise coming from your neighbour’s apartment stops. He knows it’s not likely that they’re already asleep, but at least it should mean they’re in bed and won’t notice what’s going outside their windows. The noise he can take care of.
He’s quick when he scoops you up in his arms and covers your mouth. It only takes a few seconds for you to realize what’s going on but by that time he’s already made it past your window and out. He lets you fight back while he coos at you. Afterall, he might miss it once you accept your fate.
#seventeen scenarios#seventeen reactions#seventeen imagines#joshua x reader#svthub#seventeen x reader#seventeen angst#joshua scenarios#joshua angst#svt scenarios#svt angst#svt reactions#drabble#angst
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I’ve been in tears over a cat video who had been sent back to a shelter and she’s been confused and sad over it (she got adopted thank god-❤️)
And I had a little idea of a certain idea-
Gun x f!reader:
The rain wouldn’t let up, he regretted parking far as his expensive brogues crunched beneath his weight over the stony path way. His umbrella veiled over him, his reversed eyes remained sharp and intense beneath his sunglasses, always observing, always knowing.
After all he was Gun Park. The Hunted one. Ever since he was a child. It’s all he’s known, repeatedly being the one surrounded, bloody, broken and alone.
Well…….atleast that was the past.
His pocket vibrated as he pulled out his phone to see your text message.
“Get home safe! ❤️”
“Love you ❤️”
“Ew- forget I said that-“
A smirk pulled up his lips as he examined the words of a certain someone, a stirring of warm honey pouring and coating over the ice surrounding his heart that slowly melted into a sweet goo of love, swirling into his bloodstream and carrying over to his hormones, leaving him pleasantly discombobulated.
His lithe fingers glided over the keyboard of his phone.
“I don’t forget anything.”
He sent that without regret. The first person who didn’t stir such an irritation within his closed off mind.
His leather brogues continued to crunch under him before his sharp attention spotted a paper in the window of a warm looking store.
He stopped, his feet stubbornly planted with his morals as he read the curly fonted words.
‘My name is Mimi, I’m 1 years old. I’ve been in this shelter for 368 days. Please adopt me!’
A picture of an animated cat with teary eyes lay beneath as the rest of the words stated how she had been abandoned.
He almost stepped away before a slight tug of his heart remained his stubborn feet rooted.
He blinked.
A retrospect of abandonment, hunted, loneliness, loss, sadness, unexpressed sadness…….he had the words to express his grief……..
Mimi didn’t.
He turned back and headed into the store, a bell jingled and he heard a greeting meow.
His eyes lock onto a grey striped cat walking over to greet him hello, rubbing along his legs as her big green eyes stared into his sunglasses clad eyes.
“…..you recognise your own huh? Impressive. Suppose you won’t be too bad.”
His eyes flick to the cashier, she looked hopeful.
“…..ill take her.”
——————————
Leather brogues crunched small stones beneath his weight as he walked the streets. His umbrella veiling over him and the cage he held in his left hand. The meowing of a curious little fur ball, swatting the rain drops that slid down her cage door.
He walked up a familiar set of steps, before knocking on your door.
The door opened to reveal the only source of his serenity.
“About time!”
You pull him in before pulling him into a melting kiss. His plush lips brush against yours gratefully before he whispered.
“Room for one more?”
He holds up the cage, your jaw fall agape, your forefinger stroking over Mimi’s paw as she held the bars.
“Who’s this….?”
Gun smirked and gently placed the cage down. Letting her out the door. She tentatively stepped out and smelling your slippers.
“…..another stray you’d love.”
BONUS:
Goo dangled a feature tied onto a string as Mimi crouched into a hunters stance with dilated pupils.
The blonde laughed and kept bouncing the feather.
“Come on babes~ show daddy whose-“
Mimi pounced without warning and Goo screamed before slipping over the sofa.
Gun scoffed.
“Weak.”
(Something heart warming and something to soothe my heart.)
#lookism webtoon#lookism#lookism comic#lookism x reader#gun park#gun park x reader#park jonggun#gun x reader
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BLUE LOCK X READER
"Can they fall in love?"
Characters : Ness Alexis, Hiori Yo, Aiki Himizu
Content : Can they fall in love? How long would it take? And what conditions must be met for it to happen?
Disclaimer : I don't claim ownership of the characters, as well as claiming their personalities portrayed here as canon, this is my own interpretation of their trait and personalities and how I portrayed them is up to you whether or not you see it as canon or different.
Note : Thank you for the asks, really enjoyed doing this. And also if ever there was something amiss, or if I ever did a mistake on a characters backstory, please feel free to clarify, so I can adjust accordingly. Excuse grammatical errors.
Hiori Yo
Can they fall in love : Yes, for sure. Hiori doesn't seem to be incapable of it. He is a polite person, as described by numerous characters. Some people might think be would be emotionally unavailable due to his past, and I can see where some of those people might come from. Hiori's past is all about soccer, from the day he was born, his parents had made it their mission to ensure hiori would excel, as opposed to their failures in the past as athletes, where they always never seem to get the number 1 spot.
However, we can see glimpses of how this have strained his relationship with his parents. I mean, his parents made him, just to impose their unfulfilled aspirations on Hiori, which can be mentally draining. Normally anyone would shut themselves out from others, a case of emotional distance as a way to shield themselves. But then again, he doesn't. After seeing how he was still able to make a connection with Isagi and Nanase, we can't just say for sure this means he emotionally closed off. I cant see him fully succumbing to his parents emotional manipulation. Hiori has proven himself to be strong enough to realize what he wants.
He might not seek out relationships, but if fate grants him one, it would depend on both him and the person whether or not hiori sees them as worth it, or someone that he really wants.
This might be his first step of him realizing his wants and having something he genuinely wanted, and not putting it in the hands of his parents, but rather his. And his alone.
How long would it take : Hiori doesn't shut off people, like rin or kaiser. Nor is he unable to feel emotions. I would give him 5 months. Even more if possible because it would take a while for him to see someone in a romantic aspect, and want to date them.
What conditions must be met :
1. That person has spent enough time with him, and doesnt need constant Involvement. I feel like a controlling partner is a no for him. His parents are already enough
2. His type is questionable. And I don't know how to incorporate it, so I won't involve it, but if he has to choose who he wants to be with, his partner doesn't have to be involved with soccer, if his partner is involved though, then okay. But I have a feeling he would prefer it if his partner wasn't involved in soccer. Since not being involve in something he deems as a restraint, would make him view that person as a comfort zone.
In short, he can fall in love. There might be times where his partner experiences some space in their relationship, a space in which Hiori deems as appropriate. He would care for his partner, but his partner can only do so much and wouldn't be able to fix his problem. Atleast for him.
Ness Alexis
Can they fall in love : Of course. Ness falls into the category of emotionally manipulated people. Ness secretly craves for acceptance, for the magic that he himself believes in. Its such a shame it was used against him in the end. The lack of acceptance in one's family can affect how you proceed with life with the very thing that caused it. And for Ness, that was his belief of "magic". His family being scientists makes the situation both ironic but also pitiful. His beliefs were crushed by his own family— people that should've supported him instead of making him feel disregarded, which left a hole in his sense of self, which laid him vulnerable enough for Kaiser to take advantage of him. Ness was easily manipulated as he was in a vulnerable position. A position where he is deprived from the very thing he believes in, and so he seeks this concept in order to fulfill his beliefs.
It isn't a surprise if someone, maybe a potential love interest uses this against him as a way to gain his favor. Ness is vulnerable. So if the potential interest takes advantage of this fact, it wouldn't be so hard for Ness to attach himself to that person, falling in love wouldn't be too long.
But if I was being honest, someone that accepts him, is honest and doesn't manipulate him would be an ideal partner for Ness. For a healthy relationship, that person must be someone not cruel enough to use his vulnerability against him, but rather pull him out of it— bringing him out of potential toxic interactions with others who are cruel enough to use it against him.
He mentions his ideal type as someone that can handle their solitude. It's the complete opposite of how he is— he couldn't handle it and thus his solitude made him vulnerable. For me, this isn't just his "ideal type" but rather a reflection of the type of person that he both aspires to be, and can trust.
How long would it take : A manipulative person, who knows how to take advantage of his vulnerability, would take them less than 3 days. He would fall in love in a week if he starts to depend on that person, as they manipulate him. If someone is honest and genuine, it would still take the same amount of time but if they are honest, it means they won't use his vulnerability against him so it would take a few days longer. Their kindness and genuine affection wouldn't make him take so long to fall in love. A week or more.
What conditions must be met :
1. They don't shut him down
2. With the right interactions and moments where Ness truly feels happy or accepted.
In short, yes he can. It wouldn't even take as long but Ness would indeed fall in love with someone if it comes down it. Especially if he depends on that person more and more for their validation and acceptance. If he does end up with someone, he would be the most loyal person I know, as well as the most caring.
But right now, with Kaiser currently taking place in that hole that Kaiser manipulated his way into, it might go differently (let me know if you want me to further go deeper in this).
Aiki Himizu
Can they fall in love : he would but it would take a long time of trust. And by trust, it means gaining HIS trust. He grew up in a household where both of his parents are wearing faces every day. Faces that are "fake" and he constantly had to put up with their constant lies.
He is described as someone that has a snake-like personality. I think it fits him, Aiki's skills in the field involves mostly feints, which is really befitting considering how his entire character has a relation with lies— how he makes it his goal to figure out everyone's true colors in the field. Their true self. He believes that everyone's personality are built up from lies that they make up, which pushes him to expose people's true feelings. For him it's not in a case of being satisfied for making people lose it, but rather something deep inside him, wishes to see something genuine.
If he were to fall in love, it wouldn't be with someone that lies constantly. No. I cant see him wanting to pull himself in a place where he has to constantly guess what the person's true feelings are. He would like someone genuine. Someone that isn't laced with pure fakeness, but rather honesty. That person doesn't have to be a complete Saint to the point they'd have to mot lie their whole life. But he'd just want that person to be genuine enough for him, in a way that won't make him feel the discomfort he felt since childhood. It might be hard though, I feel like making him see that someone is genuine and isn't lying would take so much time. But once he trusts someone, he would see them as his comfort zone. Though his personality may not be as tamed when he trusts someone, if that person breaks his trust, he wouldn't trust again.
How long would it take : Very long. Maybe 9 months max? It might lessen if he can feel that person's honesty and he wouldn't see himself second guessing anymore.
What conditions must be met?:
1. That person gains his trust
2. That person is patient
In short, yes he can. But it takes time. Trust takes time. But once he trusts, that person can never break it, otherwise he would totally have a much harder time trusting then and his second guessing persona would worsen.
_____________________________
Thanks for the asks!!! Really enjoyed making this, and I got to meet a new character hehe. I hope you enjoyed reading!!! 😻😻😻
#bllk#bllk x reader#blue lock#blue lock x reader#himizu aiki#aiki himizu x reader#aiki x reader#aiki blue lock x reader#ness alexis#alexis ness#ness x reader#ness alexis x reader#alexis ness x reader#hiori yo#hiori x reader#blue lock hiori#hiori yo x reader
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SHENANIGANS: where Mai gives headcanons to the Voices in your Head ™️ based purely off vibes.
This episode: The voices at bedtime!
((I know some of you need to go to bed, so consider this a call-out/jk. Anyway, get your plushies some water, we're tucking our lil voices in for bed!!
Voice of the HERO: rarely sleeps late, Hero falls asleep fast. With the exception of some emergencies, Hero will go to bed at a reasonable 10-11 PM. She is also a fast sleeper, as well. However, if something happens, she is the first to wake up and check it out. Her spears makes her ideal to deal with home intruders (not that they had any...;3)
Voice of the PARANOID: He TRIES to sleep early at around 9 PM, so she has the time to stew in bed to let the energy out. That backfires as they spent so so SO long worrying about every shadow and creek in the night that actual sleep time is around 12 to 3 AM. And that's not including the nightmares. Often, you find em making something in the kitchen to try and burn off the energy. It works roughly 50%. Then it's off to Hero to share a bed.
Voice of the SMITTEN: he ALSO sleeps at a reasonable time at 10:30 PM. It would be earlier, if not for his meticulous grooming ritual. He takes his time getting ready for slumber. And Long Quiet forbid you interrupt him, mid ritual. There are few things the Voices share a fear in. One of them is a Smitten who couldn't finish his 1000 stroke brushing routine.
Voice of the COLD: man wears a bathrobe, so everywhere is his sleeping spot. He sleeps whenever he feels like it, going for days, pushing his physical body's limits until those limits are reached and he crashes somewhere. And when he wakes, he documents the result and push it more. So far, his record for staying awake is 12 days. And that was cut off because Hero had to step in. Thankfully, when he crashes, he's light enough to be carried to his room.
Voice of the SKEPTIC: As if he's any better than Cold. If he finds something to sink his claws into, he will stay up studying it for days at a time. The only difference is that he knows his limit and is out like a light. And I mean OUT. You ain't waking him up until at least 7 hours. It got to the point where Hero has banned late night books just so She didn't had to deal with 2 chronic stay-awakers.
Voice of the CHEATED: she sleeps a little later, mainly due to waiting for the drugs to kick in and some evening workout so she doesn't wake up with sore limbs. She will always be out by Midnight, and will stay down until morning. Despite her aching bones, her body LOVES to move during the night, so she has to crash fast. As a result, the only time you are waking her is at minimum 5 hours later. She doesn't like sleeping alone, as it often caused her nightmares, so Broken is always with her.
Voice of the BROKEN: ironically, a night owl. She sleeps the latest, roughly around 2 AM. so she and Paranoid have a lot of kitchen talks. Granted, this is mostly because she spent a lot of her day "sleeping" in the Networked Wild, so her circadian rhythm is off kilter. Attempts to fix it have proven fruitless, so they just accepted it. Plus, it's not like she's any worse at night, than during the day.
Voice of the OPPORTUNIST: whether with Thorn, or another voice (coughstubborncough), Oppy sleeps better with company. His nightmares aren't frequent, but they aren't infrequent either. So he often seeks solace in another body, at the dead of 1-2 AM. When he can't find anyone, he sleeps with a knife under his pillow. Many have complained about it, but it's not his fault he finds comfort in it. "Steel can't lie" as Paranoid once said.
Voice of the STUBBORN: he sleeps normally. I don't know what to tell you here. Aside from some pre-sleep work out, he sleeps fine. Though, in the night, he's susceptible to cramps easily so he is often rudely awakened to take care of it....oh and he sleep fights. His room is away from most other Voices because the noise he makes are Loud. Sometimes literally, if he somehow turn on his radio for some scene-appropriate training music. When awake, he recalls none of it, but will agree to cleaning up the best.
Voice of the HUNTED: while incredibly comfortable sleeping in a nest, he is the lightest sleeper, outside of Hero. He usually wakes up first to any commotion, but if Hero is up, he takes it as a sign of things being cared for and go back to sleep. He always offer them to sleep in his nest ("so the flock can be safe" he reasoned), but few took up on his offers, unless the nightmares are THAT bad. His nest is always big to accommodate all of em.
Voice of the CONTRARIAN: She makes a big deal about going to bed around 9 PM, showing signs of fatigue around that time. But when it is time to actually sleep, she waits in her room, until everyone is out cold (or the Night Owls were in another part of the house), before exiting the house and exploring. Sometimes she visits the Princess's cabin and screw with them. But most of the time she visits the Outside World, and get her hands on all she could find, before slipping back into bed, with a Gameboy or smth. No matter how little sleep she gets, Connie will be bright and loud in the morning, much to most everyone's dismay.
BONUS: The voices sleepwear!!
Wears a shirt and shorts: Hero, Cheated, Connie, Oppy
Proper sleep robes/pajamas: Cold, Smitten, Skeptic
Wears what they have: Broken, Hunted, Paranoid
Sleeps in the nude: Stubborn
#mai talks#mai rambles#mai art#mai headcanon time#stp voices#((this is also a call-out to myself))#((i can't help it!!))#((anwyay anyone still up to read this))#((do as i say and not as i do))#((bed))#slay the princess
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Fire & Ice 🔥🧊 | MCU!Johnny Storm Imagine
Link to my Marvel masterlist
Characters & Pairings: JosephQuinn!JohnnyStorm x enhanced!reader (romantic), the Fantastic Four (platonic), The Avengers (platonic).
Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of canon violence and death, canon divergence, light angst | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 7K
Requested 📨 yes/no
Premise: Earth-616 is no stranger to the multiverse. Since the defeat of Thanos in 2023, the Avengers have had their fair share of visitors from other worlds and know what to expect when they do. But when a man wearing the same face of their late comrade arrives, the Avengers are in for the shock of their lives when a group of heroes tailing the individual fall through the portal behind him. And for the flying, fire-wielding, and sometimes charming Johnny Storm, he meets his match in the form of a woman whose power and reputation matches that of her cold, steel, heart.
Note: Happy 2025 everyone! To kick off the year I am gifting y'all this damn idea that's been stuck in my head the past two weeks. Now if you've been following my work since I started, then you know I was pumping out Marvel fics back in the day. Phase 1-4 of Marvel have my heart, and unfortunately the disappointment of Phase 5 (with few exceptions) had me lose interest. BUT if there was one thing I absolutely loved when I was a kid, it was the OG Fantastic Four movies with Chris Evans, Jessica Alba, etc. I watched those literally every day and before the Avengers/MCU I rolled hard with the FF, Blade, & X-Men (I've got another idea involving Deadpool & Wolverine cooking). So I have a lot of expectations for FF: First Steps especially because the MCU has had so many misses the last two years. I love Pedro Pascal, Vanessa Kirby, and Joseph Quinn, I haven't watched The Bear, but I've heard great things about Ebon Moss-Bachrach and I look forward to his and the rest of the cast's portrayal of the FF.
I've been a fan of JQ since 2022 because like majority of people I discovered him by his performance as Eddie in Stranger Things. I'll admit I haven't seen much of his filmography, but I did watch A Quiet Place: Day One and he was phenomenal. And don't get me started on Gladiator II. I was pleased to hear he'd be playing my first love Johnny Storm and I know he'll do amazing, not to mention he has said that he was a fan of the OG movies and Chris' version of the character. Whenever I hear an actor is a fan of the source material, I know they're going to deliver.
The movie hasn't come out, neither has the trailer, so I don't have much to work with. But we know that FF:FS is following the origin story of the FF and will feature the Silver Surfer. AND it's rumored to be where RDJ's Doctor Doom will debut, setting up Avengers: Doomsday and he will be the big villain of the MCU. This obviously is diverging from canon and pretty much an AU story, remember that please. SO here's my treat to my fellow Johnny Storm lovers to feed y'all since we still got months until FF:FS. Enjoy.
----------------------
The blinding light of the sun peaking through the curtains pulled Johnny from his sleep before the alarm was set to go off. Had it been any other day he’d be upset. Wishing nothing more than to curl into the comforter and get the extra minutes of sleep. But thankfully it was Sunday--the day reserved for rest. No agenda. No training. No missions. Completely free and dedicated to recoupling after a week filled with non-stop action.
And if there was anyone who would be displeased at waking up earlier than needed, it was the woman lying beside him. Fast asleep on her back with one hand curled beneath the pillow and the other clasping his on her chest. Body cooler than the average person, which made the atmosphere of the room comfortable considering Johnny’s was hotter than the average citizen. Figuratively and literally.
Johnny smiled, happily tucking himself further into her space, chin leaning on her shoulder as he snuggled against her side. Allowing his eyes to flutter close and accept the slumber his body itched to claim. The fresh scent of shea butter from her shampoo and body wash filled his nostrils, and he sighed in content.
This was what life was worth living.
But just when Johnny welcomed the darkness, the annoying, blazing sound of their alarm clock echoed against the walls, disturbing the peaceful moment and making him flinch and groan. “Dammit,” he rolled onto his back, arm reaching to slap at the air until his fingers grasped the device. Snoozing it asleep with a press of a button.
Now he was fully awake.
Flinging himself back onto the mattress, he felt her body shift before letting out a soft chuckle, “Had you turned it off when you first woke, you’d have spared yourself this torment.” Her voice was laced with tiredness, and Johnny turned his head to find her eyes still closed but clear amusement painting her visage by the smirk on her lips.
Rolling his eyes, he moved to lay on his side and brought his arm around her waist, “Why didn’t you? Seeing as you were also awake.”
“Too comfy.”
“Well, so was I,” he sassed, mouth hovering over her jaw before leaning down to kiss the skin, the coolness sending a chill along his spine. She hums, nuzzling into the touch, seeking it.
“The alarm is also on your side.”
Johnny smirks against her cheek, mischief coating his gaze, “you could’ve reached over me, you know. Saved us both the hassle.” His hand reached up to stoke her jaw, trailing to tangle his fingers in her hair. Soft and silky. He takes a moment to appreciate the beauty before him. From her thick eyelashes, to her lips. Her cheekbones and kissable lips.
“Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you,” she challenged with no actual bite to her tone, one eye peeking open. “Me on top of you in the morning.” He didn’t even deny it, flashing a toothy smile
“Very much so.”
Instead of replying, Y/n moved to push the man onto his back, throwing her leg over his waist to lay herself on top of him. Johnny’s hands immediately grabbed her, keeping her body pressed against his with one hand on her back and the other firmly on her hips. The heat radiating off his complexion clashed against the frostiness of hers. Two polar opposites coming together in an explosion of love and devotion.
Johnny welcomed it with open arms, bringing her mouth to his in a tender kiss. Chuckling as she fought away while mumbling about morning breath to which he didn’t care. He kissed her like his life depended on it. Like they were the only two people in existence. For there was nothing sweeter on the planet than the taste of her lips on his.
And thanks to the fire that consumed his veins, Johnny was spared from getting frostbite.
“Happy?” She asked while pulling away, but not getting far as Johnny cupped her jaw in his hand to keep her close. Kissing her once more after mumbling, “exceptionally.”
The tale of the Human Torch falling in love with the Ice Princess begins long ago, three years to be exact, when the Fantastic Four find themselves sitting across the table of Earth’s mightiest heroes, the Avengers.
Everything leading up to the moment was still a blur to the young Johnny Storm. One moment he and his team, the Fantastic Four as they called themselves, were fighting the formidable Doctor Doom in their 60s-style futuristic Earth. And the next they are pulled into another universe while tailing the bastard to prevent him from bringing utter destruction to the world. It hadn’t even been five minutes and the Four were surrounded by armored trucks and individuals donning costumes similar to their own.
“Hands where we can see them!”
“State your name and purpose!”
“Who are you and where did you come from!”
Johnny’s heart pounded against his chest. The anxiety piling up like a volcano ready to explode as he took in the scene before him. There were guns pointed at him and his friends. A man in a blue tunic and red cape with his hands raised in defense next to a young girl wearing a brown tunic. Another man in a red, white, and blue tactical suit with wings who landed in front of them. His shield reflecting off the light. Next to him was a man in a similar attire with wings but in grey. Then there was a woman in all purple, bow and arrow trained on the Four. A man with five golden rings on either wrist. A masked individual in a bright red and blue suit with spider webbing detail crouched on top of a car. And finally, a woman in a striking gray tactical ensemble stood closest to Johnny with a cold look in her eyes.
Upon making a flame with his hands, ready to defend himself and his friends, Johnny watched her face shift to amusement. Raising her brow as though unimpressed by the trick, “Don’t even try, hotshot.” And without taking her eyes off his, her palm raised up to form an icicle in the shape of a dagger. Her other arm extended to show her skin turning completely into ice.
Yeah, Johnny wasn’t sure if it was fear or arousal that consumed him. He often confused them at times. All he knows is there was a pretty woman before him with ice powers with cold eyes ready to strike him down with God knows what laid in store for him should he dare tempt her.
But now wasn’t the time to flirt. There were more important matters at stake. Like the fact they were surrounded by highly advanced, highly enhanced, people with an army of soldiers at their command. In a place that looked like New York but lacked the 60s style he was accustomed to.
“Cuff them and begin transport to HQ!”
“Find me Banner and clear this area at once!”
The Four were at a loss. Outnumbered and confused, none able to process what the fuck was going on. They lost Doom. He was God knows where and they were not a match against these strangers. So they took their loss and compiled as they were restrained by agents.
“What the fuck is happening, Reed?” Johnny demanded, struggling against the cuffs on his arms and ankles. His power seemingly unable to melt the damn things which both intrigued and terrified him.
“I don’t know?”
“Where are we?” said Sue from beside the genius, expression full of confusion and slight fear. The last thing she remembered was falling through a glowing yellow-orange light in the shape of a ring and the feeling of nausea hitting her full force. Giving her whiplash.
But before anyone could answer, the blinding light of the sun hit them as the door whipped open and agents ushered them out of the vehicle. Clashes of voices, cameras flashing as news crews desperately tried to breach the barrier guards had formed and even a helicopter flying above. Johnny glanced up to take in the chaos, gaze falling onto the large building before him with a giant ‘A’
The Four are led to a large glass encased room, still cuffed, and ordered to sit and wait while armed guards post themselves outside. Expecting someone to come in and interrogate them, they take the moment to assess the area. Noting that the glass room sat perched above a large space, like a bullpen, where people were rushing to answer phones, type on computers, or stood watching the vast tv screens splayed on the wall. The news channels played footage of what transpired on the streets moments prior. The Four tense when they see an image of Doctor Doom, disappearing after falling from what appeared to be a portal in the sky.
Just like they did.
The sound of the glass door opening captured their attention, turning to find the man in the wingsuit and the woman in gray. Their body language showed they were on high alert, analyzing the Four for any potential threat, and they exchanged a look before the man set down his shield on a free chair while the woman placed a stack of files onto the table.
“I’m Captain Sam Wilson, this is Agent Y/n L/n,” The man spoke first, cutting right to the chase, “You’re not from here, are you?”
“Here?” Reed repeated, perplexed.
“Earth-616,” Y/n answered, locking eyes with each of the Four, lingering on Johnny before falling onto Reed. “At first we suspected you’re with Hydra, or part of the team Fontaine has been cooking up. But ruled those possibilities out once we saw the footage of your friend who preceded you in the portal.”
The Four processed her words, unable to identify the names she spoke of.
“Hydra?”
“We don’t know who this Fontaine person is, but we can assure you we’re not involved with them.”
“You saw Doom? We have to find him immediately!”
“I’m sorry, did you say Earth-616?,’ Reed reeled back to her initial answer. Y/n crossed her arms over her chest with a nod.
“I did,” she then turned to Sam, lowering her voice but they were still able to hear everything, “This isn’t going to be easy, Cap. They obviously hadn’t discovered what we know and that makes them a liability.”
“We have no choice. Whoever traveled with them is still out there and they know what we’re up against. We need them.”
“And how exactly are we going to send them back to where they came from?”
“We’ll figure it out like we always do,” Sam’s tone grows stern, but Y/n holds her ground and doesn’t reveal any ounce of intimidation. “Strange and Banner can find something.”
Johnny, having had enough of them talking about them as though they weren’t right there, spoke up with annoyance, “Can you two please tell us what the fuck is going on? What do you mean “send us back where we came from,” and that we hadn’t discovered what you apparently know?”
Reed pitches in, “Sounds like you’re suggesting the theory of the multiverse is real and that we’ve somehow breached the gap between space, time, and reality and have fallen into a parallel universe,” the genius scoffs, gaze flicking between the two as though waiting for them to say, ‘Sike!’ only for his stomach to plummet in fear as he saw how serious they were. “Oh my God.”
Reed’s reaction to the implication was enough to cause the same in his friends. Sue’s face paled, Ben froze, and Johnny felt a sudden urge to throw up. They were in another universe.
They watch as Y/n removes a device from her utility belt, stiffening as she points it at the man, a buzzing sound emitting from its speakers causing her brows to furrow and the man leaned over to read whatever it was on the screen. “You’re human, like us, and your DNA appears to be altered with enhanced biological traits.” Glancing up from the screen, her head tilts with suspicion, “but that’s not the interesting part…..your readings indicate you obtain multiversal particles.”
The revelation sent the Four into hysterics. All denying at first the inevitable truth, speaking over each other, struggling against their cuffs--which Sam removed once they calmed down. Reed was dealing with shock and excitement, for the scientific discovery was something he always theorized was true. Meanwhile the others were more fearful of what this meant for their world and the one they were in.
For hours after the initial shock wore off, they stayed in that room until all information was exchanged between the groups. Sam infomed the Four they were at Avengers campus, headquarters for the Avengers. A team consisting of biologically or technologically enhanced individuals responsible for the safety and order of Earth-616 against domestic, international, and intergalactic threats.
“Well now we can add multiversal to the mix,” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly annoyed with having to deal with another damn enemy after they’d finally defeated an adversary not long ago.
Part of Johnny wanted to laugh at her irritation, but that probably would’ve made things worse on his end. So he kept his mouth shut.
Sam and Y/n were soon joined by the man in the tunic, who introduced himself as Doctor Stephen Strange. A Master of the Mystic Arts who had experience traveling the multiverse, and had even met a variant of Reed years prior.
He didn’t go into detail obviously of how that ended.
Not long later he was followed by a large man who’s physique rivaled Ben’s and was green. “Dr. Reed Richards, meet Dr. Bruce Banner,” Y/n did not look up from her tablet, full focus on the screen. “You two will surely get on well with figuring out what the fuck it is this Doctor Doom wants with our world.”
While they didn’t join the group, Sam explained who the other team members were that helped attain the Fantastic Four. Stephen’s protegee, America Chavez, who had the power to travel the multiverse--which had Reed’s eyes bulging from his head. He definitely wanted to have a conversation with her. There was Kate Bishop, the purple archer who trained under former Avenger, Clint Barton. Sam’s wingman, Joaquin Torres, and Shang-Chi, who possessed the Ten Rings. Lastly there was Peter Parker, the boy donning the red and blue webbed suit.
They mentioned the Thunderbolts, another team of enhanced individuals who were more anti-heroes and had once been adversaries of the Avengers but are now allies. Then there was the Guardians of the Galaxy. A team of intergalactic heroes traveling space and protecting the galaxy from threats not on Earth. The Norse Gods of Asgard, now living on Earth. Shuri, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, and the Marvels. Lastly, they touched on former Avengers. Ones who retired, like Barton, and the ones who perished.
Finally, when things seemed to settle, Johnny decided to lift the mood by saying, “So do you guys have nicknames? Or like code for when you’re on missions?” Sue shot him a look that read, “For the love of God, Johnny.”
Y/n lifted her eyes from the tablet, giving him a once over, “Are you serious right now?”
“What?”
“Aye, take it easy, L/N,” Sam pitched in, waving a hand for emphasis. “Can’t blame the kid for being curious.” All he receives is a mock scoff.
“Okay, Captain America.”
Johnny’s ears perked up as he looked at Sam with interest. Boyish grin plastered on his face, “You’re called Captain America? That’s really cool.” He motions toward the suit and shield, “Should’ve guessed as much though with the colors of your suit and stars.”
“I used to be the Falcon, but Torres has taken on that mantle. Strange is just strange,” Y/n snickered under her breath, causing Johnny to bite back a smile. “We call America, Miss America.”
Ben nods his head in approval, “fitting.”
Sam continued listing off the aliases of the team, finally coming to Y/n who narrowed her eyes with a frown as he said, “And she’s the Ice Princess.”
Honestly she should be grateful for the nickname and that it sounded quite regal in comparison to other ice related names. Hell, they could’ve dubbed her Frost. Or Snowflake. Or God forbid Icicle. At least with the Ice Princess it made her sound both menacing and dauntless. Still, it was too on the nose. And it didn’t help that before the accident that granted her the powers and the Avengers, she was a socialite in America. Before they died, her parents were wealthy investors and friends with the late Tony Stark.
Johnny didn’t try to hide his grin, “The Ice Princess,” earning a glare from the woman, obviously not amused by the nickname nor his delight from it.
“And what do they call you, hotshot? Firestarter? Flame-man?”
He shrugs sheepishly, cheeks a tint red, “Human Torch.” Now that has Y/n’s lips curl, fighting back the smile as she hums.
Setting the Four up at campus, they were given rooms and full access to the labs and training facilities. Reed and Ben immediately joined Banner, while Johnny and Sue decided to observe the Avengers and learn from them. Their dynamics. Their history. The way they train and how they come together to develop strategy. How they are able to make a team consisting of individuals with different levels of abilities, experience, and ethics work.
Johnny would be lying if he said he wasn’t the most curious about Y/n. Not only was she the most beautiful, and quite terrifying, woman he’d ever met, but he was drawn to her aura. The power she held, both physically and on the team. She was extremely intelligent, a mentor to the young members, witty. Unafraid to go toe-to-toe with Sam or Strange.
And her powers….they were exact opposites. Fire and ice. Hot and cold. Where he controlled flames, she manipulated glaciers. He turned himself into a human torch, she transformed to a human icicle.
Talk about opposites attract.
Days passed, and the two teams merged together with the goal of locating their common enemy. By keeping up with the news and reports of suspicious activity, they were able to narrow down the search for Doom. Suspecting him to be hiding somewhere in the New England area.
The day before planning to scour the location, the teams trained with each other, none holding back. Showing off what they were made of. An enthralling experience considering the Fantastic Four had only been a team for a couple years in comparison to the fifteen plus of the Avengers. Banner being the only founding member there, Sam and Y/n not far behind.
“I like her,” Sue whispered to her brother when Y/n sideswiped Joaquin and put him on his ass. The group made a circle around the matts in the gym and were taking turns going against each other. Sue caught the way the man’s gaze followed the Avenger. Mesmerized by her skill and ability. And Sue always knew when her brother had a crush. “You should go next when it’s her turn again.”
Johnny didn’t respond, but the look on his sister's face, a cheeky smirk told him he wasn’t being conspicuous as he thought he was with his feelings. “Shut up.”
The most tense, and nearly destructible moment, came when the Four discovered a photograph of Tony Stark on the wall of a different debrief room alongside the founding Avengers. Who bore a striking resemblance, well actually he was identical, to Dr. Victor von Doom. The man they were after.
There was screaming. Accusations thrown at each other. Of course suspicion and confusion from the Four. Up until that point the Avengers only saw Doom with his cloak and mask from the footage, and the Four hadn’t described his appearance. And while the Avengers mentioned Tony Stark, they didn’t show any pictures.
It calmed when Strange had to remind them about the existence of variants. He met Reed’s when traveling to Earth-838. Peter Parker met two of his. It was completely possible that their Victor von Doom was a variant of their Tony Stark. Were they the same man? Not really when one thinks about it. But they shared a face. The Reed Richards Strange met looked nothing like the one standing in front of him. While in Earth-838, Strange met a young lady who worked with Christine, that world’s version of the Ice Princess, who was not Y/n. Peggy Carter was their Captain America!
Oh, and there was the big detail in the fact that Tony Stark was dead.
When the commotion settled and the two groups lost their steam, Johnny noted the deflated appearance of the Avengers. All falling quiet with unreadable expressions. Peter excused himself, “I-I don’t feel good. I’m gonna go lay down,” but the blonde saw the way his lip trembled and eyes watered. Rushing out of the debriefing room on a mission to get away from everyone before he burst into tears. A feeling of guilt suddenly consumed Johnny, glancing at his friends who shared the same concern.
Banner was quiet, as was Strange. The others, who didn’t know Tony personally, shuffled on their feet and quietly excused themselves as well. Sam had his back to everyone, a distant look in his eyes as he gazed down at the bullpen below.
And then there was Y/n. Sitting in silence with her hands clenching the arms of her chair, white knuckled and jaw so tight he swore he saw a vein protruding. Her breathing was shallow, eyes staring blankly at the wall.
Johnny felt unease, unsure of what to do. Should he say something? Should they leave the room? Nothing felt right at that moment. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this new revelation changed everything. This was no longer just containing a multiversal threat, this was personal so to say.
He was spared the ordeal when Sam finally spoke, only to be interrupted by Y/n, “You know you don’t have to--.”
“Do not finish that sentence, Sam.”
He turned away from the window to look at her, tone serious, “I’m trying to look out for you, Kid.”
“What’d I tell you about calling me that?”
“And Peter,” Sam continues, not letting up, “No one will fault you two for wanting to pull out of this.”
She scoffs, offended by the insinuation as she stands from her chair. The atmosphere in the room heated up again, and Johnny tensed, watching the woman step forward so she was nearly chest to chest with Sam. “There is a multiversal madman out there and you’re suggesting I stay grounded?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “What the fuck, Sam?”
“This is different, Y/n,” his voice was steady, willing her to understand. He wanted the best for his team. And their situation was unlike anything they’d ever dealt with. “You have to realize that. This Doom is--.”
“Not him, Sam! Y/n threw her hands up, yelling as the anger she had tried to contain began to unleash, “I’m not fucking stupid! For Christ’s sake, I know that’s not Tony and I’m not going to compromise this team because the man we’re up against has the same face as him!”
“Y/n--,” Strange attempted to intervene but she shot him a look and he immediately backed down.
“If you think Peter and I should back out, then so should Banner,” she pointed to the man who had yet to say something since the news of Tony’s variant was revealed. “Him and Tony founded this team. And let’s not forget your history with the damn Accords. Should I go call Rhodey and see what he thinks?”
‘Accords? Rhodey?’ Johnny thought to himself, not familiar with the term as he thought back to the lessons on the Avengers. They must’ve omitted that detail, assuming it was a rather dark part of their history. A confirmation he got from the reactions of Banner and Strange, who’s expressions were complete shock and appalled.
Sam’s demeanor shifted to that of hurt and exasperation, her words hitting him like a bullet from a gun. “That was low, even for you.” Yeah, whatever it was they were references, the Four gathered it wasn’t good.
Y/n stepped back as though he struck her, a flash of regret in her eyes but she kept her head up, willing herself not to break. “I’m an Avenger. I took an oath, the same as you, and made a promise to Tony that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this planet against any and all danger. I will not break that promise, and nothing you say or do will stop me.” Y/n backs away, moving toward the door, “I’ll see you on the quinjet tomorrow, Cap.”
An eerie silence remained as the door slammed shut behind Y/n. Nobody moved. Nobody made a sound. The air was thick, and full of tension. The Four glancing at each other with uncertainty.
“Wings up at eight,” Sam announced, voice strong with authority as though the last five minutes never occurred. Or didn’t bother him, though Johnny noted the pinched look of his brows.
The Captain then departed the room, Strange and Banner following out with a nod to the Four. Left to their own devices, the Four spent the next hour in the debrief room watching footage of the Avengers. Particularly ones with Tony Stark, the Iron Man, and the several catastrophic missions he dealt with alongside the Avengers. Provided with the mountain of videos from news channels and social media of people who experienced it first hand.
New York 2012. Ultron 2015. The Superhero Civil War of 2016. That’s where they learned of the Accords Y/n referenced and how she and Sam were involved. The two on opposite sides of the scale as Y/n pledged allegiance to Tony while Sam supported former Captain America, Steve Rogers. Witnesses flying a private plane around the airport captured the fight between the two teams.
Johnny watched with a frown as Y/n battled against her colleagues and friends. He could tell she was holding back on using her power to the highest degree, not really wanting to hurt them, but enough to send a message. For example, when Steve and Bucky attempted to flee to the hangar, Y/n created a layer of ice on the pavement, causing them to tumble and fall. Then she made a wall of ice to contain Scott Lang in his giant form. But that was a failure, as the wall wasn’t thick enough allowing Scott to break free, sending chunks of ice toward the ground, knocking the hero unconscious when one collided with her head, blood spilling from her temple. To prevent her from being crushed, Tony flew in a record speed to gather in his arms and rush her to safety.
Later that night when Johnny was wandering the building, he found Y/n on the balcony overlooking the main grounds. A hue of orange and pink painting the sky as the sun set on the horizon. The dark blue of nightfall taking over lurking in the background. She was out of her suit, dressed in casual clothes consisting of a hoodie and sweats. A faint expression on her visage as she stared out in the distance.
Gathering courage, Johnny took a deep breath before gently sliding back the door, the cool breeze hitting him in the face as he closed it behind him and approached the woman. Her head tilted slightly, acknowledging that she heard him, but made no move to address.
They stayed like that for a minute. In silence, basking in the peace they were afforded before the impending danger they were to face.
“I’m sorry you all had to witness that,” Y/n eventually spoke, tone neutral as her expression. “That was unprofessional of me.”
Johnny shook his head with a shrug, “You don’t have to apologize. I can’t imagine what you and your friends are feeling. And I’m sorry we jumped to conclusions--accusing you guys of--.”
“Considering what you told us of Victor von Doom,” She sent a pointed look, her voice one of understanding, “you had every right to be cautious. Plus,” she sighs, gaze flickered down to the railing, “you four are still new to the Multiverse. We’ve known about it for five years, and I remember that feeling of confusion and uncertainty. America told us all about her experiences traveling through various realities.” Y/n’s frown deepened, shuffling on her feet with unease. “In one world, she met a version of me that hated the Avengers--and tried to destroy them.” Her body shudders, and not from the wind, “That stuck me for a while. I couldn’t imagine a world where I was the enemy. Whose goal was to hurt the people I cared about. Steve, Nat, Tony.”
Johnny nodded, leaning his elbows on the railing as he pictured it. Surely there were versions of himself out there in the multiverse. He wondered what they were like. Did they have the same power? Did they get to live a normal life like he once thought he would? Was he a hero? Or was there a version of Johnny who went against all he stood for?
He too, refused to imagine a scenario where he’d want to harm his sister and friends. It saddened him to even think about such a thing. And the way Y/n said Tony’s name, showed him she felt the same.
“Was he your father?” the question left his lips before he could stop it. Immediately regretting upon the distant look that encompassed her visage along with the glossiness of her eyes.
“He was the closest thing I had to one after my own died,” Y/n bit her lip, scoffing lightly, “actually even when mine was alive. Met the man when I was five--my father invested in Stark Industries and the two were good friends. I have fond memories of going to Stark Tower and watching Tony’s expos.” A small smile appeared, but it soon turned to a frown. “My parents profited off the sciences and technology, but didn’t really care to understand it.” There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she spoke, and Y/n was a bit surprised she was being so open with Johnny. A rare feeling, for she was hardly this vulnerable about her past with her teammates. And she’d known them for decades almost.
“I was always smart growing up but they never acknowledged or praised me for it. Told me college wasn’t necessary since we were wealthy and what good would higher education be when we were well set. Mind you,” she shoots a glance at Johnny, who was watching her intently. “My father went to business school in Chicago and my mother was a journalist before they got married.”
“The pot calling the kettle black,” he muses, tone laced with disappointment on her behalf.
“Exactly,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked back toward the city. “My father laughed when I told them I wanted to pursue physics at MIT. Told me if I was going to go to college then I should do business where the money was at--as if I needed more fucking money,” Johnny heard the frustration and sadness in her voice, picturing a young Y/n with dreams who just wanted the support of her parents and was denied. Thinking about it made his heart strain.
“Anyways, Tony was the one who helped me get to MIT. It was my freshman year he got kidnapped and became Iron Man. Barely saw him after that because his partnership with my dad ended.” Fiddling with her rings, Y/n closes her eyes briefly while taking a breath, then shrugs nonchalantly, “My folks were among the casualties in New York, my accident happened not long after….” she straightens up with a sniff, “Tony Stark helped me find purpose. Told me there were greater things for me--and my powers could be a tool to help people. He took me under his wing when the government advised him not to. I owe everything to him.” Turning to lock their eyes, Y/n’s gaze is filled with determination.
“As he died I promised him to continue his legacy. I intend to keep it, until my last breath.”
Defeating Doom proved itself to be the most defining moment for the Avengers and Fantastic Four. Lasting months on end, for each time Doom was in their grasps he managed to get two steps ahead of them. Thankfully the integrity of space, time, and reality didn’t seem to disintegrate with the Four in Earth-616. Something the geniuses of the team were concerned about.
When it was finally over, Doom neutralized and the multiverse saved, the Avengers and the Four--bloodied, bruised, and covered in grime, dragged themselves to a nearby shawarma joint to pig out. Beer flowed, music sounded from the jukebox beside the round table they took claim to.
And after months of tip-toeing around feelings, Johnny and Y/n finally said ‘fuck it,’ falling into step together as a unit they both craved. The Ice Princess seated firmly in his lap with her head tucked under his chin, eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion kicked in.
For Johnny, he’d been crushing on the woman since he first laid eyes on her. Keeping his affections hidden as he knew deep down it would be unwise to pursue anything with someone who 1) was from another world; and 2) he needed to focus on the task at hand.
The same went for Y/n, who realized her fondness for the blonde about a month after he arrived. She’d be lying if she didn’t find him attractive during that first meeting. Anyone with eyes would agree. But she knew better than to be involved with him given their predicament.
Yet, by a power greater than universe, the man of fire melted her frozen heart. He wasn’t put off by her cool attitude, unlike most people when they first meet Y/n. Yeah he got under her skin with his boyish charm and flirtations, but he never crossed any lines. Always respectful. Always mindful.
Neither were sure when things changed between them. Maybe it was when Y/n pushed him out of the way of a line of fire from a Doombot causing her to take three bullets to her back and nearly bleed out right there in the middle of the street. Or when Johnny spent a week in a coma for exposing himself to a deadly dose of radiation to prevent Y/n from doing so. Whatever it was, the two could no longer beat around the bush. And the night before the final battle against Doom, they confessed their feelings on the balcony overlooking Avengers campus. Sealing their promise to stay alive with a kiss.
“You sleepy, darling?” Johnny murmured against her hair after finishing a conversation with Shang-Chi. Tightening his arms around the woman when she nuzzled his chest before laying a sweet kiss to her forehead.
“Just resting my eyes.” His finger brushed her cheekbone, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, making Y/n sigh in content.
“Rest,” he told her, not buying it at all, and by the tone of his voice she knew he was smiling. “I’ll wake you when we’re ready to leave.” All he received was a hum, the man beaming as he carded his fingers through her hair. And when Johnny lifted his gaze he met his sister’s, who’s expression was full of fondness, shooting him a wink as she gestured toward the sleeping Avenger in his lap.
‘Told you so,’ Sue mouthed, grinning at his pink tinted cheeks.
‘Shut up,’ he mouthed back, though he returned the smile.
In the days following their victory, one question remained: Will the Fantastic Four return home? America was their ticket out. All she had to do was open a portal. It may take time, but eventually she’d shuffle through enough realities until she found theirs. Luckily in the months they’d been away, the fabric of reality remained intact.
In all honesty, that fact alone is what made them contemplate leaving.
The Fantastic Four didn’t belong in Earth-616 having landed there by mistake, but it had been almost a year. Integrating themselves into the Avengers and developing bonds. Besides the romantic feelings between Johnny and Y/n, the remaining Fantastic Four were not sure if they wanted to leave. Reed and Ben enjoyed working with Banner and Strange. Sue longed for female companionship, and found that with Y/n and the other women of the Avengers. And Johnny connected with the guys. They all became friends.
They became a team.
And since they weren’t leaving anyone behind in their world, what harm was there by staying? The Avengers could use more allies. And who knows another high level threat would appear. Threatening the existence of the universe. They needed a strong team, and defeating Doom proved they were one.
Yeah, it was a no brainer.
Now here they were two years later. The Ice Princess and Human Torch cuddled in their bed, in their apartment in Avengers campus, on their day off where they could enjoy the peace as no new threats had emerged in the last two months.
Johnny groaned when Y/n pulled away from the kiss, moving to sit up so she was straddling his hips. The comforter falling behind her as she fought against his firm grip when he attempted to pull her back down.
“Sorry, hotshot, no sleeping in for me today. I have to get ready.”
He tilted his head, partly confused, partly offended, “For what?”
“I promised your sister I’d have breakfast with her.”
“But it’s Sunday,” He sat up, hands gripping her waist as he moved to press kisses on her neck. “We don’t do anything on Sundays. Except sleep….” he trailed off, pulling away to give her a cheeky smile, “and give each other some lovin’.”
Y/n chuckled, tilting her head back as his plush lips captured her chin, trailing down her jaw until he found the place behind her ear. “Baby, I’ll give you all the loving this afternoon until the sun sets and the moon rises,” she feels him shudder against her, smirking in satisfaction. “But I’m a woman of my word.”
Lifting herself off him, she leaned over to her side of the bed to grab her rings off the nightstand. Returning to his lap as she placed them on her fingers. Her college ring on her right hand, and the beautiful Cartier stack consisting of her engagement and wedding rings. Once all were placed on her finger, Johnny lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles just below. His own wedding band shining against the sunlight peeking through the curtains.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long now,” Johnny flirted, chocolate eyes sparkling while pressing her hand to his chest where his heart laid. Heat radiated off his body. “I might come looking for ya.” The words earned him a playful glare.
“Behave,” she scolded without any bite. “Or I’ll punish you.”
“I want you too,” Johnny challenged, winding his arm around her waist to hold her closer.
All she did was shake her head, laughing at his behavior while he continued his assault on her neck, allowing him a few extra kisses before she really had to get up. “You are something else, Johnny Storm.”
“And you love meeeee.”
“I do,” she breathed out, tilting her head down to meet his lips halfway, hand cupping his jaw. He sighed in victory, chasing her mouth each time she pulled away, causing her to giggle. “Johnny! The sooner you let me leave, the sooner you get to have me all to yourself.”
He groaned again, loosening his hold but not completely letting Y/n go. “Fine,” he mumbled, pouting, but smiled when she kissed his cheek. “Bring me back a coffee, please?”
“Of course, my love.”
With that he reluctantly let go of her waist, allowing his wife to get up from the bed. But before she could make her way to the bathroom, Johnny caught her hand, making her turn back to him with a raised brow.
“Some say the world will end in fire.” He begins to recite the famous poem by Robert Frost. What started as a joke between the two because of their abilities, transformed into something far more intimate. The poem itself was about human emotions, and their power to lead to self-destruction. Fire was fast, Ice was slow. Together they were each other's strength and weakness. And despite being complete opposites, they both played a role in dismantling humanity.
But for Johnny and Y/n, they managed to do the impossible. They bridged the gap between fire and ice.
Y/n smiles affectionately, lifting her free hand to the back of his neck to scratch at the nape of his hairline. “Some say in ice.”
“From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.”
“But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate, to say that for destruction ice.”
“Is also great,” They both recite, leaning in to capture each other's lips as they whisper the final line of the poem.
“And would suffice.”
#johnny storm x reader#johnny storm x you#human torch#human torch x reader#johnny storm imagine#joseph quinn!johnny storm#mcu imagine#mcu fluff#fantastic four fanfic#mcu fanfiction#joseph quinn imagine#marvel cinematic universe#avengers x reader#avengers imagine#fantastic four: first steps#fantastic four imagine#fantastic four
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The Bunker - Criminal Minds
Chapter 15: The Door
Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.
Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.
AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.
Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.
Chapter Summary: Spencer is not looking at the hatch in the door. He isn't thinking about what's inside.
Read chapter 15 on AO3 or under the cut. Please check AO3 for content warnings. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14
Spencer's eyes flung open only seconds before the alarm.
The horrible, high-pitched sound assaulted his senses. He squeezed his eyes tight against the light and rushed to cover his ears, wincing as his useless left hand scratched across his cheek.
The last traces of his dreams washed away in the noise. A flash of a needle, a glint in Ethan's eyes, all lost to the ringing in his ears.
It hadn't taken long for the purpose of the new speaker encased in the camera housing to reveal itself.
The single endless day they had been living beneath the fluorescents was now delineated into 24 hour segments, marked by the blaring siren. The concept of days had returned to their lives.
Each day began the same: Alarm, food delivery within 5 minutes, an attempt at reasoning with their jailer through the door which was inevitably met with silence, a spark of hope, a crushing blow, a chip of his willpower carved away.
When he first put the loaded syringe in the hatch, beneath the general feeling that he was utterly pathetic for being in the situation to begin with, a part of him had really thought himself a little bit strong and selfless for the great sacrifice he was making. With each new delivery leaving the narcotics in their place, untouched, he was feeling less noble and more like a stray cat cornered in an alley.
Rossi broke him out of his reverie by shoving a banana into his good hand and saying, "Maybe if you eat today you'll have enough energy to do more than just stare at that fucking door for hours on end. You need a better hobby, kid."
"I ate yesterday," he said defensively, not bothering to dispute the other accusation.
"Try more than two bites this time," said Rossi pointedly.
After breakfast was calisthenics, usually run by JJ or Derek, with the latter taking the lead this time.
JJ's hair was thin and patchy where she had been compulsively pulling it out. The back of her arms and her knees were scabbed from picking at the skin. She told him once years ago that she used to do it as girl, only stopping when she moved out of home. It had been getting worse. Even she was starting to need coaxing to participate in activities.
Spencer stepped to the side while the others continued running laps around the room. He leaned against the wall, panting, his vision swimming.
"Come on! Another 60 seconds," yelled Derek, tapping him on the arm as he ran past him. "Get your ass in gear."
"Absolutely fucking not," he said, groaning against the nausea.
Derek slowed to a stop. The others followed with sighs of relief.
"You have been spending way too much time around Rossi," he said, strolling over and shaking his head.
"Go fuck yourself," said Rossi, flipping Derek off, still panting from exertion.
"See, coming out of him, it sounds natural. 'Fuck' was probably his first word. But you? It's just wrong." Derek put a hand on Spencer's shoulder to stabilize him, as he was swaying somewhat. "You alright?"
"Fine," he said, dizziness abating as he took some deep breaths. "You know, swear words serve more than a linguistic function. Imaging has shown that swearing correlates to increased activity in the amygdala and prefrontal cortex, meaning it has an impact on emotional regulation and impulse control. It's even been shown to have an analgesic effect. Studies have shown that, on average, swearing accounts for 0.5% to 0.7% of total word usage, which can-"
"That number's gotta be like 5% minimum for Rossi," chimed in JJ.
"Did I do something to piss you all off today?" asked Rossi, throwing up his hands incredulously.
Spencer flipped through the last few days (days? the time between alarms) and cataloged every word that came out of Rossi's mouth. Once the list was compiled, the equation was simple.
"Extrapolating from data over the past six days, approximately 1.4% of your total speech is profanity," said Spencer, looking at Rossi. "That is double the median average."
"What can I say? I'm an overachiever," said Rossi, unbothered.
"What percentage are you up to?" JJ asked Spencer.
He repeated the mental process the same as he had for Rossi, freezing as soon as he landed on the unexpectedly high number. It's not as if he had an issue with profanity, but he preferred to be sparing so as not to dilute the impact or precision of his words. Upon reflection, his vocabulary had shrunk somewhat during their confinement. He pursed his lips, then turned to Derek. "I have been spending too much time around Rossi."
That earnes him and Derek both a middle finger.
"I'm going to wash up," said Emily with an affectionate eye roll at all of them, turning to the bathroom and laying first claim on the sink and soap.
The day marched on.
"You're getting better at that," said Hotch, observing his loose, fumbling grip on the little ball their captors had gifted them. "It looks like you're improving."
He sat cross-legged, facing Derek, his back to the door. Physical therapy, the other man called it. A waste of time, thought Spencer, but he played along. Having something constructive and helpful to do each day brought a spark to Derek that he couldn't bear to take away.
The program was cobbled together based on Spencer's anatomy knowledge and Derek's practical understanding of movement based on his own experiences as a young athlete and having recovered from injuries in the past. He was more knowledgeable in the subject than Spencer had realized. The program wouldn't be out of place at an actual physiotherapy clinic.
Unfortunately, the biological reality of a severed nerve could not be rewritten by optimism and force of will. The best case scenario of a surgical repair in the immediate aftermath of the injury would likely still have left him with loss of function.
They were well past the best case. He'd be lucky if he could ever form a proper fist again.
"I'll be back to doing sleight of hand in no time," he said to Hotch with a tight smile.
It was worth it for the hint of pride that flashed across Derek's face.
The rest of the day, they took turns in leading activities. With endless hours to kill, the biggest enemy was boredom, and they fought it valiantly.
Emily had taken to reading a new chapter aloud each day from the trite self-help book on radical honesty that the Unsub had left them. It had some genuinely interesting provocations, but intertwined with oversimplifications and new age schlock. Emily took on the most melodramatic tone she could muster even in the driest, dullest segments.
Spencer had taken to sharing his most recent lecture series for the Advanced Criminal Psychology course at the university. Of course, the others were already highly educated on the topic, so he took the opportunity to invite feedback and spark discussions on theory and interesting case studies.
Rossi, on the other hand, had been breaking up his litany of what JJ liked to call 'sleepover party greatest hits' in favor of increasingly esoteric card games. He presented the progressively more convoluted play alongside far fetched stories of when and where he learned the games, and Spencer was pretty sure he was making up most of it as he went along.
This one he insisted was called Dead Man's Hand and involved a complicated series of bluffs and calls. How one wins the game was as yet unclear, likely because Rossi was still deciding on the rules.
"Reid," said Hotch firmly from across the circle in a tone that indicated he'd said it several times already.
"Huh?"
"It's your turn."
He looked down at the cards clutched in his good hand, then put them on the ground. "I fold."
"Wrong game," said Rossi, raising an eyebrow.
"Yet, I'm doing it anyway."
"You were staring at the door again, man," said Derek lightly.
"I was admiring the architecture," he deadpanned.
He itched all over, deeper than he could possibly scratch. He felt the syringe as if he were connected to it by an umbilical cord.
"I know this sucks," said Derek, "but you've already made it this long. What's one more day? You're str-"
"If I hear one more time that I'm stronger than this, I'm going to f-" he hissed to a stop, suddenly conscious of his excessive cursing. He took a breath. "I'm going to respectfully ask that you keep the facile support group platitudes to yourself."
Derek put his own hand of cards down. "If I acknowledge the drugs, you get mad. If you think I'm avoiding the topic or placating you, you get mad. Is there anything I can say, or not say, that won't piss you off?"
"Probably not," he said petulantly. "Is there anything I can say that will get you to stop treating me like I'm a bomb waiting to go off?"
An invisible ripple spread across the room. The game was forgotten. He hadn't meant to argue, but it bubbled out of him and he didn't know how to make it stop. They were always watching him. Always checking in, commenting on and correcting every errant behavior.
Derek sucked his teeth, jaw clenched. He looked away, then looked back.
"A week ago, we thought you were dead. Sorry it's taking a minute to get over it."
"I know," he said, instantly regretful.
"There's still a stain from where your blood soaked into the concrete," added JJ quietly, a distant look in the direction of the off color patch where the porous concrete couldn't be fully cleaned.
"I know. I know," he said quickly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," said Emily gently. "Nobody is trying to single you out. We're all struggling. Maybe, if we're honest, focusing on you can be a good distraction. God knows I don't want to think about my own issues a single second longer than I have to. Your problems just have the advantage of being harder to ignore."
"That's some very healthy radical honesty you're practicing," joked Rossi. Spencer appreciated his effort to break the tension.
"Shut up," scoffed Emily.
Spencer looked back at the door. After a long while, he said, "How long are we going to do this? It's been six days. They stalked us for at least a year. We can't discount their capacity for patience."
"So we have to be more patient than them," said Emily. "This was your idea."
Malicious compliance was the strategy. They tried following the rules. They tried open defiance. They tried self-destruction. This was an opportunity to do something new. Play her game by the letter, but don't let her win. Wait her out, as long as it takes, until she's forced to change tactics or make a bolder move. Do not, under any circumstances, allow their captors to believe that they can physically coerce them into specific actions.
It was less a plan than a loose tactic, but it was something. Nobody wanted to be gassed again, but they would take that over letting her win the battle of wills.
Which would be fine if it wasn't his rapidly waning willpower that they were depending on.
"There's still the option to just flush it," pointed out Derek.
"No," said Hotch, drawing all eyes to him. "As much as I want to, we all know what's going to happen if we do it. That kind of explicit defiance of an articulated rule will trigger retaliation, and it will be worse than the last time."
"I know you don't want to hear this," said JJ, reaching out to put her hand on his, though he could barely feel her touch, as it was his bad hand, "but you are stronger than this. You have to be."
He held her gaze. She was right: he didn't want to hear it. He wanted them to say 'Give in. Get high. That's a completely logical course of action.'
"I'll be fine," he said firmly. "Absolutely fucking fine."
"Watch the language," deadpanned Rossi.
He laughed despite himself.
His skin itched. His mangled arm was searing with nerve pain. He couldn't help another glance at the hatch.
Maybe he had it in him. For them, surely, he could endure.
He went to pick up the discarded cards, intending to make a concerted effort at the ridiculous, barely coherent game. It would be interrupted any minute by the second daily food delivery anyway. Maybe this would be the one where the Unsubs finally gave up and took the narcotics away, though he didn't have high hopes.
Before he could get to the cards, the world was plunged into darkness.
He froze for a moment, disoriented, struggling to process what he was, or rather wasn't seeing.
The lights were out.
#criminal minds fic#spencer reid angst#criminal minds hurt/comfort#criminal minds evolution#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds angst#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid whump#spencer reid#spencer reid hurt/comfort#bau team as family#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds evolution fic
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fujo gf who gets w a celebrity so she can better critique the rpf she reads of him and his costars
#step 1: get him to fall in love with you.#step 2: ask him to fuck his coworker.#step 3: take notes?#step 4: profit.
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Portal 2 replay review: Hrmnnngggngmngm 💕💖💝💞✨❤️💗
#WPP#WPP2#Portal#I've only just revived GLaDOS (obviously had to play at least that far lol) but like hhnnnrgng <3 <3#The graphics! The space! The levels from Portal 1! The cutesy Aperture animations and the three(!) voice actors!#I've completely fallen in love with GLaD's P1 design but honestly what could possibly compare to her P2 design she's so pretty <3 <3#Stepping over her corpse to wake her up I'm normal I'm fine#And that we start in Test Chamber 1 and then fast track to 19 and end up in the toxic goo ravine fjdlsakfjsdf#I'm Fine I Swear#I forgot so many little details like the floor falling out or the buzz of the portal device (don't like but! Learned a new thing! -#- If while you're carrying Wheatley and you want the buzzing to stop just ''set him down'' - since he can't be set down lol#It cancels the noise :) Much nicer on the ears)#And Wheatley's voice actor ♪ His little flusters and chuckles hehe he's quite personably#I am So excited to get to the audio commentary fdjsalkjfdsf I found it and I'm biting biting biting#I have taken so many screenshots don't even get me started#Like all told for Portal 1 I probably took what like maybe 50 total? I'm probably already at 20 lol#Oh and I picked up a turret and it exploded on me :( I'm so distressed#I only want to knock over turrets I don't want them to explode!! Weh#Hhhh looking forward <3 Yay finally <3 <3#WPVG
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Season 3 Elias is so goddamn fucking funny to me I forgot what a rollercoaster he was during my first listen.
Like the s2 finale has Jurgen Leitner giving Jon the whole "monsters are real speech" and Jon's like "I need a cigarette. NO ONE get brutal pipe murdered while I'm gone" and Jurgen fails step 1 because Elias walks in and grabs Jon's point-and-click-adventure pipe he'd been carrying around and Brutal Pipe Murders. Which, of course, Jon walks back in on and is prime suspect #1 due to literally every single feature trait and word he's said in the entirety of s2.
So naturally s3 starts with Jon on the lam and Officer Tonner like "I'm gonna arrest him for brutal pipe murder" and I'M like "Shit. I hate this. Elias is going to SO easily pin it on Jon and get away with it."
EXCEPT Elias walks in and is like "hello Ms. Officer no Jon Archivist did not kill that man, also I won't tell you anything else, also this is what you sound like" while reciting all her childhood trauma and all her illegal activity that will get HER sent to jail for brutal murder of the non-pipe variety and now I'm like "....huh." He's also like "Jon didn't do it but you can kill him if you want maybe :)" Elias your alibi????
And then we come BACK with Jon storming Elias's office with his two lesbian bodyguards as back up and he's like "I'm gonna use my powers to make you confess to pipe murder!" At which point Elias is like "It doesn't work on me. But I'm having fun so Martin go get everyone I need to tell you all how I committed pipe murder." and Martin does and Elias is like "Yes I pipe murdered. I also killed Gertrude. I love murder. You will not be compensated extra for this time. Get back to work." And they... DO... just go back to work. Because work is haunted. One of the lesbian police officers works here now, too. This just happened. "Also living dolls from Russia are about to Apocalypse the world, Jon go stop it," Elias says, while also saying "no I'm not gonna tell you how to stop it."
Okay???? Mr. Elias man??? And you're like "maybe he's a ruthless tactician? Maybe he's brutal but it's all in the interest of stopping the doll apocalypse??? He wants to save the earth???" Except THAT'S not even true it's actually more like he's trying to get the Russian dolls kicked out of line at Disney World so HE gets to meet Mickey Mouse first by which I mean, start his OWN Apocalypse, because if the dolls do it first well then what's the point of apocalypsing a planet that's become someone else's sloppy seconds.
Anyway Elias's master strategy here is to bring the human equivalent of a drowned cat to the gun fight and just sit back and watch Jon fall down every set of stairs he finds while Elias goes "This is good. This will work." His name isn't even fucking Elias.
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OBSESSED. ☆ SYLUS QIN.
📰 extra, extra! why is your bodyguard so obsessed with you? girl, you wanna know...
warnings. fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! sylus, established romantic history ( very brief ), pet names, semi-public, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v. wc. 4.6k.
an. reused the header and a bit of the plot from an aaron hotchner fanfic i wrote on wattpad in like… 2021??? tweaked most of the details obvs but ig i was born as a bodyguard au lover
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request
Your bodyguard was such a buzzkill.
Dragging you out of every party you make an appearance at, replacing your shots with water once he believes you’ve had one too many, watching you like a hawk no matter where you are or who you’re with...
You despise those who have an inability to have fun, so as far as you’re concerned, Sylus is the devil reincarnated. You aren’t exactly shy about your opinion of him either, and perhaps in hindsight, that is exactly why he was currently pacing through the party you’re in attendance of to try and ruin your night yet again.
(Ruin your night or… do his job? Hell if you care about the logistics of it all. Two sides of the same coin, you think.)
His protective instinct only grew more intense ever since the two of you shared a kiss before a concert of yours that left your lipstick smeared over your face like there was no tomorrow…
And what did that asshole do? Nothing. It was in his nature to make your life miserable after all. Sylus let you walk out in front of your thousands of fans, makeup messy and appearance disheveled all from his mouth on yours alone.
And boy, did the tabloids have a time with that one… Who was the culprit? A new fling of yours? Fiancé? Possible baby daddy? Each and every news outlet had some uniquely wrong to say. Can’t a girl have a makeout session with her bodyguard in peace?
Unfortunately for you, the paparazzi have been hounding you ever since that day, itching to get the 4-1-1 on your love life.
And ever since, you haven’t given many people the time of day—including Sylus. Tonight, you’ve managed to stay two steps ahead of your dear bodyguard and evade eventual capture for just a bit longer. You’re currently surrounded by a few of your friends, socialites and actors alike.
Your lips seem to flap freely when you have a few drinks in you, but tonight, you’re sober but even more talkative than ever. Your chosen topic of conversation? Your overbearing and stupidly handsome bodyguard, of course.
Too lost in your story, waving your arms around to your theatrical pleasure, you hardly noticed the way your friends’ faces paled to a ghostly shade of white, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads and their lips parted as if they had something to say but… couldn’t.
All the while, you were too busy blowing off the steam that you’d acquired from your last encounter with the forsaken bodyguard. “…And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?”
As fate would have it, you hear a throat clear behind you followed by an annoyed sigh that you’ve grown to know like the back of your hand. You spin around, already wearing a scowl.
“Obsessed with you, hm?” Sylus says, his voice low and seemingly dangerous, though your utter distaste for the man rids him of his intimidation. “You’re quite self important. I could never live in a world where I’d fall at the feet of an egotistical popstar.”
You roll your eyes at that. Who does he think he is? Everyone loves you—all except for the disgustingly handsome man standing in front of you.
“Mm… well, you can always die an untimely death and never have to work for me again,” you reply, giving him the most passive aggressive smile known to man. “Hopefully that gives you an ounce of hope.”
“It does,” he replies, returning the same expression that you gave him.
It’s borderline infuriating how undisturbed Sylus was. No, it is infuriating. No matter how many insults you chucked his way, he never cracked. (And the one time he did, it led to the two of you playing tonsil tennis in your dressing room...)
You shake your head, huffing in utter annoyance. You then hold your wrists up for display, cocking your head to the side as you give him a mock puppy dog expression. “Sooo… are you here to take me away, Officer Buzzkill?”
Sylus merely blinks in response to your taunting, taking a firm grasp on one of your wrists before he tugs you through the sea of partygoers. He laces your fingers together, squeezing tight as to not lose hold of you.
“Must you always make things so difficult?” he asks, keeping his eyes ahead.
You shrug your shoulders. “More or less.”
“More or less?” he echoes, glancing over his shoulder to properly look at you. “I suggest you try a different style of communication, sweetness. Your clipped attitude will get you nowhere.”
“Oh? But it’s gotten me so far already…” you trail off, glancing at his lips for a few agonizingly long seconds before a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth. “In fact, I think it can get me even further.”
Sylus’s jaw tenses, his eyes slipping shut as he tears his gaze away from you. He can’t handle the way you’re looking at him—so unbelievably beautiful with those siren eyes of yours, the mere sight of you already stirring something unwanted within him.
He turns around to continue leading you through the crowd without a reply. You begin to glance around yourself, attempting to plot your brilliant escape.
“Don’t,” he flatly states, his iron grip tightening on your hand.
“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a strong tone of defiance.
Sylus gives your hand one solid tug before you’re standing in front of him, his free hand pressing onto the small of your back as he keeps you pressed to his chest. “If you haven’t noticed, you brat, I will always chase you. I’ll find you just the same.”
You almost deflate under his intense gaze, his deep red eyes piercing through your own. It wasn’t often that Sylus manhandled you, but when he did, it made you feel… different. Intrigued, maybe.
“How touching,” you deadpan, “but you still get on my nerves.”
Sylus clicks his tongue. “Tch. Oh, I’m sorry… when have I ever cared about what you think?”
“Never,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know… if you hate me so much, you should just quit on me.”
Sylus rolls his eyes, his red irises drawing you in like no other. “I don’t… hate you. You should be rather thankful that I don’t, because I’m doubtful that anyone else would want this job of mine—you’re quite the handful.”
“Mm, I’m only saying,” you murmur with a shrug, giving his hand a harsh squeeze as if the roughness of your grasp would make him let go, but he, of course, does not. “You don’t need this job, and yet, here you are.”
He raises a brow. “What do you mean by that?”
You smile, the same shit-eating grin that he has grown to be all too familiar with. “Give me your wallet.”
Sylus huffs, his broad shoulders deflating as he fishes his black leather wallet from his back pocket and hands it over to you. You take it with ease, taking your hand from his as you crack it open.
You slip his Black Card from the sleeve, proving that he truly didn’t need the job for any monetary gain. And then, a triumphant smile graces your lips as you pull out none other than a Polaroid photo taken of you—backstage at your concert just before the kiss you two shared.
“Ooh… what’s this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.
Sylus reaches forward to try and snatch the tiny photo from you, but you are far too quick. “What are you revealing exactly? That you were secretly snooping in my wallet prior to now?”
“Yes,” you admit without hesitation, “and that you’re secretly rich and in love with me. Does that make us even?”
His jaw sets, his piercing gaze set on yours. He works to snatch the photo from you, tucking his belongings back into his wallet before he slips it into his pocket. “No. Maybe if you were less of a pain, we could be even.”
You wiggle your eyebrows in suggestion. “You’re not denying being in love with me, dear bodyguard of mine.”
Sylus gives you a deadpan expression. “Must you always be so self righteous? God forbid I am proud of you and your success.”
The genuine nature of his words set you back a step, your brows knitting together and your lips parting. If Sylus noticed the shift of your expression, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully. His cold fingers lace with yours once more, continuing the stride towards the exit of the party.
“Rather than putting on this show of yours, you truly should be thanking me for saving your reputation,” he quietly adds, his hand now curled around your waist as you approach the exit. “There is a swarm of paparazzi outside who are desperate to get their grimy hands on a picture of their beloved popstar doing something remotely scandalous.”
(And if Sylus knows anything about you, it’s that you love scandals. According to you, they ‘make life worth living’. Tch. Diva.)
You chuckle. “Aww, you care!”
“Do I care, or is it my job to look after you?” he asks, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket to place them on your face, shielding your eyes from the rapid camera flashes of the paparazzi. “Public intoxication numerous times a week is not a very good look for you, sweetie. Incredibly frowned upon.”
Your jaw sets as you listen to his words. While they are undeniably true, you don’t have any plans for admitting that—not now or in the near future.
“Making out with my bodyguard is frowned upon as well, but you didn’t seem to be complaining about that bit,” you say under your breath.
Your voice was low enough that your weighted words were almost drowned out by the booming music of the party and by the chatter of the photographers you’re about to be engulfed in. Almost.
Sylus flashes you a glare. “You shouldn’t mumble. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“You heard me,” you state.
He did hear you, that was exactly the problem. It was no coincidence that the two of you haven’t spoken much since your very intense lip lock. You’ve been avoiding each other, evading the invisible string that connects the two of you like both an electric current and a noose.
The tension between the two of you was tangible, palpable even—you could practically taste it just as well as you could still taste his lips on your own. It was intoxicating, imprinting, searing.
It managed to distract you from the flashing lights of the cameramen who were swarming you, capturing flick after flick of you being led through the crowd.
You chew on the inside of your cheek. “You know, you can help me out with all of this,” you murmur, gesturing towards the paparazzi. “My publicist came up with an idea that will get them off my back for a while. Give them the answers they need and… whatnot.”
“Is that right?” he asks, glancing your way. “Do tell.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, tuning out all of the chattering paparazzi who are currently surrounding you. “Be my impromptu mystery man for the cameras. I’ll give you anything you want in return, I swear it.”
Sylus hums, the sound omitting a deep rumble into the air. “Anything I want? My, my, sweets, you’ve made me an offer I cannot refuse.”
You huff, grasping onto the collar of his jacket as you pull him into you. “Just go with it.”
“Just go with wh— mmph!” Sylus’s words were muffled by your lips slotting against his in a searing kiss, his hands instinctively finding their home on the curve of your hips.
The kiss was… tame. It was supposed to be, after all. It was merely for the cameras, a way for you to put an answer to the questions that have been flooding your inbox and left your name circulating in the news for days on end.
But when Sylus’s tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you slightly pull away, muttering a faint, “Sylus, what’re you…” before he pulls you right back in, his large hand now resting on your cheek.
“If you’re going to use me like a whore at your disposal, I’d suggest you let me enjoy myself and taste you properly,” he sporadically says into your mouth, his hand shifting to tangle in your hair as he tilts you to his liking, your tongues meeting in with gentle swipes. “See? I knew you could do better than that.”
True to his suggestion, you kissed him like there was no tomorrow, your hands fisting his shirt in your palms as your lips moved in tandem with his. Lipstick and paparazzi long forgotten, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands give your hips a firm squeeze.
The moment he hears that sweet, impossibly faint sound of your pleasure, he knows that he’s in for it now. That’ll do it for him.
He abruptly pulls away, clasping his hand onto yours as he continues pulling you through the now stunned crowd of paparazzi. Sporting an erection and your lipstick smeared on his lips makes no difference to Sylus—if anything, he enjoys the world knowing that he has the hots for the woman who he has sworn to protect.
Sylus helps you into the passenger seat of your black SUV, closing the door behind you before making his way to the driver’s seat. He peels off, driving with intention through the streets of the city.
It was now evident to you that he was driving the SUV in pursuit of his favorite lookout spot, one that overlooks the bustling city from a distance. Sylus had taken you there once before as per your request to ‘stay out a bit later’. Nothing happened then, but you have an inclination that your luck has changed.
“I know what I want from you,” he states, placing a hand on your thigh.
How did he already manage to figure out what he wants in return for helping you? A raise? A car? The blood of his enemies? You’re intrigued, raising a brow. “You do?”
“I do,” he confirms without missing a beat. “Get into the backseat.”
A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips as you mull over the utter implications of his words. It didn’t take a genius to understand them, but you were… surprised to say the least. “I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, Mr. Qin.”
In a literal sense, sure he was. But if the two of you were going to judge based on what you two want, he absolutely wasn’t—you both knew that.
He chuckles, the sound low yet infuriatingly sexy. His hand slips beneath your skirt, his middle finger brushing along the damp spot of your panties. “Your body seems to disagree with you, ma’am.”
And if you weren’t already wet before, hearing him call you ma’am was more than enough to do it for you. “Shut up,” you grumble.
“You can make me,” he suggests, setting the vehicle into park before giving your thigh a few pats. He nods his head towards the backseat. “Go on.”
Without hesitation, you kick your heels off and crawl into the back of the vehicle, thumping down on the seat with a sharp sigh. Sylus follows you within the blink of an eye, his knees settling on the spacious floor of the car.
“What’re you…” you ask, though your eyebrows raise as the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” he repeats, his warm hands rubbing your knees as he spreads your legs apart, his lips finding the tender skin of your inner thigh. “You know… you truly should be resting for your show tomorrow evening.”
“Should I?” You bite on your bottom lip as he leans forward, nosing at your clothed pussy with a muffled moan of his own. He inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal driving him to the brink of insanity.
“You should,” he answers, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. “You should stop talking too. You need to rest your voice just as much.”
You swallow hard, whimpering ever so softly as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs to give himself access to your glistening core.
His eyes are set on your heat, his cool hands hiking your thighs over his shoulders. He rests his cheek on the warmth of your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “Because believe me, sweetie, the things that I want to do to you will not be in favor of that beautiful voice of yours.”
“Oh?” you ask, titling your head. “What will they be in favor of?”
He grins, wicked and devilishly handsome. “I’m glad you asked, because there’s someone else I’ve been wanting to hear from.”
Before you have the chance to reply, he’s already got his face delving deep between your legs, the filthy sounds of squelches and slurping filling the otherwise silent car.
“Oh, I— mmh, you didn’t answer my… my question,” you stammer out between breathy moans, your head tilting back on the headrest as your eyes flutter shut.
Sylus smiles into your pussy, pointing his tongue to accentuate the squelching noises that your heat was making, entirely wet and dripping for him.
“Can you not hear her?”
Never in your life did you think that having a man on his knees talking to your cunt would be this arousing, but… you’re fucking soaked.
“I-I can,” you gasp, cracking your eyes open to look down at him. “Fuck, you can talk to her in fifty languages for all I care, holy shit.”
He quietly chuckles, the sound sending a spark of vibrations onto your already sensitive clit. Your thighs tense, aching to close on him, but he keeps them spread with his strong hands on your thighs.
Your lips part as a string of breathy sounds leave you, beautiful moans and needy whimpers alike—all of which play as music to Sylus’s ears. It was nice to know that your mouth was good for more than just singing and bickering at him…
Teeth nibbling into your bottom lip, you glance down at him, only to be met with the most crazed eyes known to mankind. So disheveled, your slick leaking down his chin while his tongue delves into your heat like a man starved. He looks like he’s in his own pussy drunk heaven.
When you feel his pointed tongue begin to curve and lick in ways it hadn’t before, you do your best to follow his movements.
S-Y-L-U-S he spells on your puffy cunt with his writing tool of choice—none other than his stupidly talented tongue.
“You’re so—”
“Shh,” he cuts you off, his voice more like a husky whisper now. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, sucking on your clit before releasing it with a harsh pop.
Filthy sounds fill the air, your own breathy moans spilling from your swollen lips in tandem with the messy sucks of Sylus’s lips on your cunt. Not to mention, your girl truly was loud.
“Singing so beautifully for me,” he rasps, his eyes flitting up to watch your blissful expression. Lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed skin—an absolute wet dream of his come to life.
You bite your lip, hardly focused on the words coming out of his mouth. “Mmh, what…?”
“Quiet, sweets,” he repeats, hooking his hands even tighter around your thighs as he gives your heat a few more harsh licks. “I told you I was talking to her, didn’t I?”
It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, your core grinding against his wet muscle as you chase your release.
Sylus was more than eager to give it to you, redoubling his efforts while locking his hands over your legs to keep you steady enough for him to pleasure you effectively. The warmth pooling in your belly was far too much, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.
“Mmh, I… I’m coming,” you warn through an airy whine.
And when you do, Sylus swoops in even more greedily than before, his flat tongue lapping at your honeyed release. There was no way he would ever be able to go without tasting you like this now that he has. Fuck, he’s such a goner.
As you come down from your high, you grin with a few pants. “Look at you, falling at the feet of your ‘egotistical popstar’—mmph!”
Sylus plunges two fingers into your mouth to shut you up, rising to plant himself onto the seat beside you. “That’s hardly an insult to me anymore, my dear. I know what I am.”
He pulls his spit slick fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy as he gently circles your sensitive clit. His free hand guides you through the motion of straddling his lap. With a simple nod of his head, he gestures for you to lift your shirt up, and you do.
“And what’s that?” you ask, watching as he leans forward to mouth at your breasts through the fabric of your bra.
“I’ve already told you,” he murmurs, bringing his free hand to his belt to free his cock from the confines of his pants. “A whore at your disposal.”
“I knew it,” you chuckle, though the sweet sound is interrupted by a breathy moan that he coaxes out of you once he slides his fat cockhead along your folds.
He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side. “Are you not going to reciprocate my affection?” he teases, grasping tightly onto your hips. “Or do I have to work a bit harder for it, ma’am?”
Your knees would have certainly buckled if they weren’t firmly planted on the leather seats of the SUV. Who would have thought that you had a thing for white-haired bodyguards who call you ‘ma’am’?
Sylus raises a brow, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”
You feel your face heating up more and more the longer you look him in the eyes, shifting your hips so that the tip of his cock finally meets your entrance. “Just… shut up and put it in.”
“How demanding,” he hums, smirking ever so slightly as he uses his grasp on you to make one sharp snap of his hips, burying balls deep inside of your heat. “But as you wish, pretty.”
You cry out immediately, the burn of the stretch fading into unfolding pleasure. Eyes locked on each other’s, breaths mingling with ease, skin slicked with sweat, it was…
“Perfect,” he whispers, smoothing his hands along your hips before one reaches up to cup your cheek. He pulls you into a deep, searing kiss. “So, so perfect.”
Your movements are timid at first, you were merely testing the waters that had yet to be explored. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing your deepest points with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.
Sylus begins to help you move a bit quicker, rocking your hips forward in smooth rolls, earning moans from the both of you that seemed to come straight from your guts.
“Give it to me how you like it, baby,” he encourages, both of his hands planting firmly on your waist. “Use my cock however you need it, sweets, it’s yours.”
His words have your clit pulsating around his thick shaft, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you begin to work up a pace of your own that has your heart beating wildly.
“I always… fuck—I always knew you were obsessed with me,” you jest, your grin stretching wide.
Sylus hums, the sound low and deep, his iron grip on your hips helping you maintain the intensity of your movements whenever your muscles beg for a break. “Yeah? Needed me to be buried inside of you to have that bit of confirmation?”
You nod with a smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you plant your forehead against his. He smiles too, a breathy moan leaving his mouth as you circle your hips in a way that has him seeing stars.
“Fuck yeah, I’m obsessed with you,” he admits without a semblance of shame, tilting his head back on the headrest.
Already feeling your second orgasm approaching, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat that made a musk that was so beautifully Sylus. His hands smooth over your backside, giving your ass a squeeze.
“Tch, let me see that pretty face,” he demands, nudging you with his shoulder so that you were sitting up once more. “You look so beautiful like this.”
You struggle to form a sentence, bouncing unabashedly on his cock, skin slapping together in an erratic pattern that spurred you even further. A string of whimpers and whines leave your puffy lips. Though your reply lacked words, it perfectly communicated what you wanted to say.
“Oh, I know it, baby,” he rasps, tilting his head back again as his eyes slip shut. “Pussy’s addictive—shit, I’m obsessed with her too.”
You begin to lose yourself all together, reduced to nothing more than a blissed out woman riding her bodyguard’s cock. “Sylus, I… mmh, I’m gonna cum.”
He nods in understanding, smoothing his hand through your hair as he brings you in for another kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, messy and drooling in the most beautiful way possible.
“Gonna come inside you if you keep riding me like this, baby,” he warns, pulling back to look you in the eyes.
You feel his cock twitch inside of you, as if it were confirming his words. You don’t do this often, contrary to popular belief, but you are on the pill. Luckily. “Please do.”
Sylus pants through a smile, licking his lips as he guides you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Huh… you really are something special.”
A deep groan leaves his mouth as he dips his head, grip tightening on your waist as you ride him through your shared orgasm. You aren’t sure where yours ended and his began, or if you had gotten the order wrong entirely. All you know is that in that moment, the two of you became one.
Panting, your hand plants on the fogged up window of the vehicle, leaving your handprint in its wake. Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, raising his own shaking hand to the window.
You watch through lidded eyes as he draws a tiny heart, writing his and your first initials inside of it with a little + in the middle. How cute.
Sylus then turns to face you again, bringing his hand to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, placing a kiss on his skin. “I have something to admit.”
He nods his head a single time, beckoning you to continue. “What is it?”
You give him a wry smile. “My publicist never gave me the idea for that publicity stunt.”
“…I figured that much, sweetie.”
note. bodyguard! sylus, my glorious king… ok i lowkey hate this but it holds no purpose saving up space in my drafts so :D pls interact if you enjoyed, rbs are greatly appreciated <3 thank you for readingggg !!!
new note: a part 2 of this fic is in the works! if you want to be tagged, comment or send me an ask ♥︎
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request
#♥︎ tojicide#sylus x y/n#sylus x you#sylus qin#l&ds sylus#lnds sylus#sylus smut#sylus x reader#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#sylus#love and deepspace#love & deepsace x reader#love & deepspace#lnds smut#lnds#lnds x reader#au
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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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It’s important to read Swordcrossed because while you’re reading gay fiction, you can also study the blade.
Celebrate Pride with more titles from Tor Publishing Group here!
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