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mingigoo · 3 months

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look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls.

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing.

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on, bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone.

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you.

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one.

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled.

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine.

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended.

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you.

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew.

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web.

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door.

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside.

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck.

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze.

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really.

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now.

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face.

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him.

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature.

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated.

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you.

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more.

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?”

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass.

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help, struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox.

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really.

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't.

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful.

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you.

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together.

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated.

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first.

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before.

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles, but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared.

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him.

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.”

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more.

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in.

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital.

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you.

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor.

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more.

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self.

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore.

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude.

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful.

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either.

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm.

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired.

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display.

“Mhm,” you swallowed.

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised.

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare.

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him, his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg.

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath.

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either.

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see.

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub.

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin. He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated.

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks.

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear.

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see.

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous.

You breathed out, “No.”

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways.

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face.

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking.

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious.

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you.

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed.

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hospital au #enemies to lovers

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drchucktingle · 14 hours

Text

POUNDED BY DR. GLOBUS

wanted to post today about recent health journey of chuck. ALL STARTED at texas show when i began to feel tightness in throat. i have learned this is called GLOBUS which is a tingler character name if ive ever heard one. got through appearance and had blast but felt terrible

plane journey home was even worse. first thought i strained my voice, then tested for covid (negative) and then figured it was just some kind of virus. had running nose and hoarse and extreme pain behind face and MOST of all this golf ball throat

figured i would get better as viruses tend to go but I DID NOT. after a few weeks went to way of urgent care and they took one look and said you have EXTREME FORM OF ACID REFLUX called laryngopharyngeal reflux (also great tingler character name)

basically this is when your stomach acid comes all the way back up into your throat and erodes it. they immediately put me on medications name of pepcid plus tums plus gaviscon and on and on. was inhaling a dang pharmacy every morning

problem is, NO CHANGE. in fact it started getting worse. in addition to previous symptoms i now couldnt keep any food down. upset stomach all the time. could barely sleep. plus it is scary to have a sickness that gets WORSE over time like this

more doctor talks. i up doses of medication to combat sickness but does not seem to work. one night wake up and think 'dang i need to go to er my stomach is going to just melt or something' (keep in mind because i cant keep food down i am always hungry too).

i go to hospital and they say 'WHOA we need to intervene right now we are doing some tests and putting you on SERIOUS LIFE CHANGING MEDICINE. but here is catch to do the tests we need you to stop all your medication for 48 hours and it will be HECK but you gotta do it bud'

so i stop all medication in preparation for new SICK LIFE and suddenly… i start feeling better. not just a little but after weeks of this awful way i wake up in ONE DAY and feel fully cured. now heres twist: at the same time this was happening I started taking allergy medicine

you may already know where i am going with so i will just hit you with it. my INITIAL SICKNESS was just extreme seasonal allergies that required nothing more than claritin and flonase. however i was misdiagnosed with ACID REFLUX and medication was making my stomach a wasteland

the second i stopped taking acid reflux meds and started on allergy trot i was better almost instantly. today i feel HECKIN GREAT. (SIDE NOTE: after 4 years of chronic pain i am so thankful to not have some OTHER long term health trot to deal with. DANG)

so what is lesson here? first of all please do not think this is in ANY WAY anti-doctor rant or anti-medicine. my doctors were trying their best and made a mistake, they are just people. ALSO while acid reflux medicine made me sick, allergy meds made me better. i am SO fortunate

but what is REALLY fortunate is that chuck is covered under SWEET BARBARAS HEALTH CARE (she gets very good coverage under the frozen lake). most artist buckaroos, even WILDLY successful ones, do not have health care which is huge issue that should be talked on more.

point is EVERYONE should have healthcare. this whole adventure was bad, but it also only cost me 50 dollars. hundreds of thousands of other buckaroos would have to deal with this PLUS it would completely upend their life to cover medical expenses because of a SIMPLE MISTAKE

so that is my story, usually there is more of a lesson to these rants but this one is really just ‘dang what a trip.’ so grateful for my health and my way and the fact i can get simple allergy medicine over the counter. most of all THANKFUL FOR MY BODY it is such a treat to exist

thank you for reading and remember to advocate for yourself and your feelings both BODY and MIND at the doctor. listen to your trot and do not forget that LOVING YOURSELF AND THE SYSTEMS OF YOUR BODY proves love just as much as loving others. trot on buckaroos

#buckaroo lifestyle #health

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fallahifag · 2 months

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URGENT: Help Rescue the Mortaja Family

Hani is organizing this fundraiser to help his brother (Ahmed) and their family safely cross the border into Egypt. Please donate and share. This is the link to the fundraising page.

The Family’s Situation in Ahmed’s Words (from GoFundMe)

“Five months into the war, I've come to realise that we need more than just one heart to bear all this devastation and more than one set of eyes to cry and mourn without restraint. Since the war began, disasters have continuously befallen us without respite.”

“We (my parents, myself, my brothers Mohammed, Salah and Mahdi, my sisters Shimaa and Walaa, my niece Mariam and my nephews Mahdi and Mohammed) have been displaced over thirteen times if my memory serves me right in recounting these instances. But my memory is even more adept at recalling the nights filled with cold and fear, fleeing from death, and emerging from the rubble with my family over and over again.”

“And each time that we miraculously survived, we lost a part of us, a piece of our hearts.”

“My mother, who lost her sister, nephews, and nieces, experienced a shocking blow. On the same day, she lost more than forty martyrs from her brothers' children and their offspring.”

“The latest loss was my cousin, an esteemed teacher and mentor to many. Amid the severe crisis and famine here in the north, he went in search of flour to feed his children and family but never returned, meeting his demise instead.”

“All of these losses didn't give us a chance to grieve properly or look at everything with a hopeful eye.”

“My father's health was already deteriorating due to chronic illnesses and recurrent strokes before the war. During the conflict, his condition worsened, having memory loss more often, and I suspect he has suffered another stroke (though we can't diagnose it due to the lack of medical staff in Gaza and overall lack of proper healthcare services). In war, cases are evaluated based on the priority of preserving life, without considering that the case being evaluated is a father with children who have big dreams.”

“My sister Shimaa, who has two little moons in the form of children, and a third born amid the war in harsh conditions that are beyond imagination, named Mohammad, symbolising our relatives and friends. This third child was born displaced from his home, in the biting cold, and now, two and a half months later, he still hasn't received the appropriate vaccinations like normal children do.”

“Those speaking to you now were not born as superheroes; they are ordinary humans. We go to our jobs, others go to learn, and we gather in the evening to talk about what the ordinary days bring us.”

“During the war, the universities where my siblings study and my father works were destroyed, and the jobs of my other siblings, who work in information technology, vanished into thin air.”

“All these events have had a physical and psychological impact on the family. My mother lost weight alongside losing more than eighty people from her family, her sisters. My father lost his health and his sanity, overwhelmed by grief.”

“My brothers and sisters lost what they lost, alongside surviving various incidents during the war, and others from the starving predators on the streets.”

“Therefore, it takes more than one heart and mind to comprehend and endure what transpired during the war.”

Please donate. Every little bit helps. If you cannot donate, I urge you to share this.

https://gofund.me/48eb39fd

#this is a trusted donation please share #donate this ramadan and lent because that is the whole point #palestine #donation

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botanicalsword · 2 months

Text

Venus ✧ how you pursue love and beauty ♡⁀➷

Where Venus is located, that house is the area where we easily find satisfaction and happiness, a field where the energy of love and beauty manifests.

☽✧. ❦ • ✧• .✧ ✞

♡ Venus in the 1st House

This brings a beautiful appearance and a gentle personality to the Houser - They are skilled at dressing themselves and have good taste and temperament. They generally make a good first impression. Even if their genetics are not strong, they have great fashion and makeup skills.

♡ Venus in the 2nd House

Houser with this placement have a pursuit of a good life, and their way of earning money is related to art or luxury goods. They are willing to spend money to improve their quality of life as long as they are not severely afflicted by Saturn. Usually, they can easily earn money, and their quality of life is quite high. However, if they are heavily afflicted by Saturn, they may easily become materialistic or even take loans to consume luxury items.

♡ Venus in the 3rd House

People with this placement are interested in art or emotional intelligence. Generally, their communication style is pleasant and gives people a refreshing feeling. They have a great sense of aesthetics and tend to be specialist in the field of beauty. It is very comfortable talking with them without much pressure.

♡ Venus in the 4th House

This position indicates a strong concern for the home environment. They have high requirements for comfortable living and enjoy spending money on decoration and arranging their living environment. In childhood, they often come from families with love or artistic heritage tendencies.

♡ Venus in the 5th House

People with this placement have a strong sense of love and know how to indulge in romance and pleasure. They seek to experience and appreciate the beautiful things in life, such as art and music. They often have a good relationship with children as well. The 5th house represents children and Venus, a planet associated with femininity.

♡ Venus in the 6th House

In this position, the work atmosphere is usually good, or the work is related to art and beauty. Additionally, this is the house of health. Venus placed here can easily lead to problems due to unhealthy or indulgent habits. Venus is not a planet of discipline but rather seeks beauty, so it is natural to indulge in things like drinking milk tea occasionally - attention should be paid regarding healthcare.

♡ Venus in the 7th House

This position is quite favorable. The native understands interpersonal relationships well and has high emotional intelligence. They are particularly good at making themselves comfortable through one-on-one relationships, whether it is finding a partner or a business collaborator who can make their life better. However, they should be cautious not to develop a mindset of pleasing or appeasing others too much, nor should they become overly dependent or immersed in relationships.

♡ Venus in the 8th House

This position is beneficial for financial investments. They are adept at utilizing collective resources and have a keen sense. They often have good luck in inheritance and are interested in mysterious matters. They tend to have a deeper understanding of things.

♡ Venus in the 9th House

This is a sign of having exotic love affairs. People with Venus in 9th House are easily attracted to people from different cultural backgrounds and are likely to encounter romance and adventure during foreign or long-distance travels. They also enjoy different cultures and artistic topics. They are experts in discussing popular brands from abroad.

♡ Venus in the 10th House

They are highly concerned about their public image. They channel the energy of love and beauty into their careers and spread love and beauty to the public. They tend to work in industries, such as wedding photography, beauty salons, cosmetic procedures, makeup artistry, and image consulting, all of which are fields dedicated to spreading beauty.

♡ Venus in the 11th House

This benefits forming collaborations with like-minded people. People with Venus in the 11th house are often popular in groups, and they are skilled at finding common ground and creating a harmonious atmosphere. They tend to have many friends and acquaintances.

♡ Venus in the 12th House

This is a hidden placement, it often indicates the hidden traits of Venus. On one hand, people with this placement tend to be reserved in matters of the heart, which may lead to unrequited love or similar experiences. This can be used for understanding, but not for definitive judgments. Additionally, people with this placement have a good sense of art and often possess a unique charm.

☽✧. ❦ • ✧• .✧ ✞

>> Masterlist | explicit contents

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russellsppttemplates · 17 days

Text

Are you staying? (Logan Sargeant)

Before the Miami GP, you fly over to spend some days with your boyfriend's family, and it turns out that you can charm more than one Sargeant

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first thing I've ever written for Logan and I'm excited and nervous to see how it goes! Nothing against other careers, but I'm a sucker for the stereotypical smart job and paired up with the friends to lovers trope, I made this! I hope it's good for my first piece for him! Also, I'm aware that Leo hasn't been in the paddock for what I can assume obvious safety reasons, but I thought of this and didn't want to leave it behind 🫣

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: mentions a previous injury

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Is this your list, babe?", Logan said as he opened the document on his iPad after you sent it to him, reading a checklist of all the things you needed to pack last minute after he said he wanted to help you.

"Yes - actually, can you help me with it, please?", you asked as you packed your usual medication, "I already have my meds in the little bag and my chargers too - you can check those off".

"Okay, done", he offered as he crossed them with the pen, "next, we have documents - passport, I'm the one with the tickets and they're in my phone as well, and Travel insurance? Since when do you do Travel insurance?", Logan wondered as you packed the documents into your bag.

"Since I'm going to motherland of paid healthcare - I don't usually get sick, but you never know! Just to my luck I could feel some pain and before I know it, I'll be knee deep into debt that no amount of working could help with! I'm just about keeping university fees covered, I can't have anymore on me", you offered as you looked at the camera. Even though the timezone was different, Logan still FaceTimed you, tucked in his bed while he saw the sunshine through the window behind you

"If it comes to that, which I hope it won't because I like you all in one piece, I would cover i-", Logan added as you shook your head.

"Let's all hope that I go and come back with pristine health and that this was just me being my forewarned self", you smiled and crossed your fingers, "what's next?", you wondered as you walked around your bedroom, looking for anything that could stand out.

You met Logan, out of all places, in the pool you had been swimming in your whole life. You never wanted to compete - for you, swimming was a way to forget about the day for a couple of hours and to ensure you were active. A couple of years ago, this boy walked inside, leaving his flip-flops on the side next to yours and he seemed to be doing some conditioning work.

Later, you found out he had picked up a muscle injury and he was there with his physiotherapist at the same time you went everyday, and by the time his treatment was over, you became good friends and it bloomed from there.

A party before his first season in Formula One was the last straw when he wasn't the only guy there who noticed how beautiful you looked. It seemed that all of the single drivers had their eyes on you, both from the novelty of your presence in the function and from the confidence you exuded. His protective side came forward, and as he was driving you back home, he didn't let you leave his place until he confessed his feelings. As it turned out, you felt the same.

"And last, but not least, lip balm", your boyfriend said in a overly exaggerated accent.

"And for that, you don't get to use this anymore!", you put the small tube on the small bag, zipping it and finding a place for it before you stuck your tongue out at him.

"That's alright - I'll just kiss you after you put it on", he smirked.

"Like that is any different from what you do now", you grumbled, closing your backpack and patting it, "I'm all ready!", you smiled.

Even though the original plan was for Logan to fly to England and then fly with you to his home country, your university practical assignments had been changed to that week and there was no way you could swap, let alone miss them. You didn't want your boyfriend to spend less time with his family because of you, so you ended up deciding that you would fly over on your own and meet him there as soon as you could.

"I miss you, I can't wait to kiss your beautiful face", he smiled.

"I miss you too, but soon enough handsome!", you said as you looked at your watch, "the train leaves later today, but I heard there was a lot of traffic so I think I'm going now", you muttered, not wanting to end the call yet but having to do it for practical reasons. Besides, Logan needed to sleep and you were sure if you didn't end the call, he would pull an all nighter.

"Don't be late, gorgeous girl - I'll dream about meeting you when you get here", Logan charmed.

"See you later, Logie! Have a good sleep!", you beamed, "don't forget to put your phone on silent because I'll text you the flight updates! I love you!".

"I will! I love you too - have a safe flight!", he smiled before his face disappeared on your screen.

Making sure everything that needed to be off was turned off and on its right place, you closed and locked the door behind you before starting your journey.

Once you had done the security checks at the airport and found your gate, the nerves on your tummy settled in. It wasn't the first time you had to fly on your own and you knew well enough where they stemmed from. You had briefly met Logan's parents a couple of times before since they travelled for some of the races, but spending time with them in their family home carried a different weight to it.

Luckily, there weren't many setbacks and the flight actually landed a couple of minutes before schedule, making you text Logan that you had already landed so he could sort the situation out.

Spotting him wasn't too hard once you saw your name on a lavender coloured cardboard and your boyfriend holding it.

"I missed you loads", he whispered on your ear, kissing under it and hugging you tight.

"I missed you too", you answered back, letting him squeeze you one last time before grabbing the cardboard, "You did this for me?", you beamed.

"Yes, one of my cousins was over yesterday and she gave me the idea to put the glitter on there", he nodded to the glittery letters.

"Yes, I definitely noticed that wasn't you", you giggled, pushing your suitcase along and to the parking lot.

"Mom wanted to come and get you, but she put in her head that the house had to be spotless, so she stayed back, and I think my dad went out to get an order my mum made for a bread she remembered you liked and she wanted you to have it", he stated, unlocking the car and popping the trunk open.

"They're going what? I don't need any special treatment, Logan, - I don't want them to think I want princess treatment!", you argued, holding onto your things, "my Goodness, your parents think I'm a snob", you groaned.

"No, they don't! They just wanted to make sure you feel comfortable and at home!", Logan offered, trying to get your backpack.

"I could sleep on the floor and be happy about it!", you grumbled before you let him get the bag.

"If you really want that, that's fine, but my bed is quite good to be fair", he smirked before you swatted his chest, helping him with the suitcase next.

"Stop making jokes, I don't want your family to think-", Logan interrupted by placing his lips on yours.

"Stop talking nonsense, my parents are excited to have you here", he spoke.

It wasn't a lie. All of his family was excited and curious to finally meet the girl that captured Logan's heart. He knew they could be a handful, and he had certainly warned you considered you came from a small family giving that your parents were only children - it wasn't so much that he thought you wouldn't feel okay, but it would definitely be a little more crowded that you were used to.

On the other side, his family's opinion mattered to him and he was nervous of what they could say. Not because of you and the person you were - he was sure you were going to be just fine, but it wouldn't be the first time that his family's opinion swayed someone the other way. His parents had met your briefly before and now you were being introduced to everyone else. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and everyone else that wanted to tag along and nitpick at you. Everyone's eyes would be on you, and so would their opinions.

"I'm choosing to believe you", you smiled, getting inside the car and watching Logan do the same.

"Did you have a good flight?", he asked as he reversed out of the space, "a lady behind me was saying that her daughter had a turbulent flight".

"It was fine, but I don't really know - I slept on the last couple of hours. Didn't think I had it in me", you tsked, "but the seat was quite comfy and there wasn't anyone in the middle seat, so me and the guy that was on the row sort of took over it and had a silent agreement to share it".

The drive to his parents' house was quick, Logan pointing to all of the spots that carried memories and special moments.

"That's my mom and my dad is also arriving behind us", he looked at his rear view mirror to check if his father had space to park.

"Hello! Welcome welcome, Y/N!", Daniel smiled and greeted you with a hug as soon as you stepped out of the car.

"Hi! Thank you for taking me in for these couple of days", you giggled.

"Nonsense! We're glad you could join us after all - did you do well in your examinations?".

"Dad!", Logan warned slightly, not wanting you to feel ambushed about it.

"They went well, yes! There's only one mark left and it should come out one of these days", you smiled, walking up to greet Logan's mother at the door.

"Hey sweetie! How have you been?", Madelyn asked, pulling you in for a tight hug.

"Hello! I've been good, and you? I hope it wasn't too much trouble having me here", you told her.

"Oh, no, don't worry! You're Logan's girlfriend, you could never be too much trouble", she offered, letting you in, "How was your flight?".

"It was good", you added, "there wasn't too much trouble with customs either, but it was quite tiring for me, I've never done such a long flight", you chuckled.

"When we got back to Silverstone, I had to take three days to recover from it! And I felt so dirty that I had to shower once we got home", she giggled.

"I might actually do that, if you don't mind - my whole body just feels icky", you admitted, knowing you had just arrived and while it maybe wasn't the way to go, it was something you wanted to do.

"Of course, of course! Logan will help you - I left the towels on your bed", she patted her son's back before he headed up the stairs as you trailed behind after excusing yourself.

You headed straight for the shower after getting your toiletry bag from the suitcase, kissing Logan's lips quickly before. When you exited the ensuite bathroom, Logan was doing his hair in the mirror.

"Don't you look handsome?", you whispered, kissing his cheek, "I must say, I'm a big fan of this longer hair", you mused.

"Thank you, love", he smiled, "are you feeling good enough to go out or do you want to stay at home?", he asked.

"I'm good - that shower really helped", you offered, "let me just get ready and then we can go - are your parents joining us?", you wondered.

"I'll have to ask, but I'm assuming they are - they made reservations for us for lunch too", he let you know.

"Okay, I'll just change quickly and sort my hair out", you kissed his cheek before looking for an outfit on your suitcase.

As soon as you were ready, you headed back downstairs so you could leave the house, Logan's mother insisting that you rode in the passenger seat next to your boyfriend, "it's not everyday we get to be driven around town", she snickered.

They pointed out at different houses of family members you would soon meet along with some friends and spots like their workplaces and favourite shops.

After lunch, Logan drove to his uncle's house, telling you about the little girl who inspired the welcoming cardboard he picked you up from the airport with, "she loves animals too, so be prepared to be ambushed with questions and a show of her stuffed toys", your boyfriend chuckled.

"It's true, Y/N! She has built her own collection and it's quite impressive!", Madelyn added.

The house was similar to Logan's parents', your boyfriend parking the car safely before you got out.

"Welcome Y/N!", an older woman said, "we've been waiting to meet you!", she smiled.

"That's my aunt, my uncle and that's my great aunt - she's my grandmother's sister", Logan said before you greeted them warmly, hearing quick footsteps on the corridor, "and that should be Millie".

A little girl no older than three years old ran up to Logan, hugging his legs and hiding behind them, "why don't you say hello to Y/N, honey?", her mother encouraged her.

Slowly, she peeled herself from the driver's legs, taking a look at you.

You crouched down so you would be in the same level, "hi Millie", you tried.

"How do you know my name?", she asked.

"Logan told me all about you - I loved the glitter you used for my name of the sign he took to get me from the plane", you smiled.

"I have more, do you want to see them, Y/N?", she beamed, stretching out her arm for you to take her hand.

"Go go, Y/N! I'll get some snacks out for us and then you can come down if you want something - we want to have a chat to get to know the girl our nephew's speaks so fondly of!", Logan's uncle winked before Millie pulled you.

Her room was decorated in a jungle theme, animal decals decorating the walls, "do you want to draw with me? Momma got me these with glue so it doesn't get messy", she explained before pulling a chair for herself, "Oh, I don't have one for you, I'm sorry".

"That's alright, love - I'll just sit on the floor", you smiled, kneeling down and getting comfortable.

Millie was an only child and from what Logan told you, there weren't many girls in the family, so she was taking full advantage of having some girly time with you.

"Millie! Poor Y/N has been here for nearly two hours!", Madelyn called for you from the door.

"It hasn't been that long, has it?", you wondered, feeling guilty to have spent that long away from them, "I didn't even notice!".

"Don't worry, honey! It's all good, we were just wondering if you two wanted to eat something", she procured.

"We'll go in a bit, auntie Madelyn! Y/N's nails are not dry yet!", Millie stated, "and I need to ask her a couple more questions about giraffes - did you know they're Y/N's favourite animal? She knows a lot about them!".

"Okay, then! Your momma has some sandwiches for you and little cakes for when you want to come down and join us - no pressure, Y/N, but she might keep you here forever now that she knows you like animals too", your boyfriend's mother squeezed your shoulder.

"Is everything alright?", Logan asked as he watched his mother get back to the living room on her own.

"Millie is holding Y/N hostage, but I think they'll be down here soon!", Madelyn offered, "I think she's in love with her".

"Looks like you've got some competition, man", Daniel told his son.

"She looked to be having a good time - she's such a sweet girl", his aunt said.

"She helps babysitting some kids, and there are not a lot of little ones in her family, and I'm sure Millie has picked her brain about her studies", Logan offered, "she's studying to be a vet".

"She's very lovely", Madelyn said spontaneously, "You would be a fool if you let her slip through your fingers. She's smart, caring, loving - I can tell from the way you look at her", she offered.

She had always been honest with him and she was known for not leaving words unsaid, but to do so in such a spontaneous and open way was surprising to Logan.

"And Millie loves her, and you know how much she hates new people - she has her seal of approval", she smiled before everyone heard giggles approaching.

"We were so entertained and having so much fun that I didn't even notice the time passing by", you apoligised as you sat down next to Logan on the sofa, Millie sitting by the coffee table and munching on the snacks.

"You have some glitter here, babe", Logan pointed out, shaking some of the yellow flakes from your eyebrow.

"I'm a bright star, of course I have it", you joked, giving him a big smile before Millie pulled on your pants' leg.

"Y/N, these are my favourite - momma and I baked them!", she offered you a small biscuit, "these bits here that look like giraffe spots are cinnamon!", the little girl smiled.

"Thank you, Millie", you accepted, taking a bit out of them and humming, "they're very very good!".

"Logan, did Y/N also teach you how to tell apart the different giraffe species?", Millie asked her cousin, choosing to sit on his thighs.

"I think she has, yes - the star shaped ones are the giraffa giraffa, right? And there's the one with 'camel' in the name because of a hump on the neck", Logan offered.

"That's right, Logan!", the little girl cheered as she drank some of the juice her mother offered in her cup.

Conversation flowed between you, his family members asking you questions about you so they could get to know you without delving into matters that you deemed too personal, which you were grateful for, and overall it was just a nice chat.

"Logan used to go around with this cap he had signed by some of the drivers - you must have been what? 10 maybe? I still remember the fight I had with him because he wanted to shower with it", his aunt laughed after clapping her hands once, "he was so adamant that the ink wouldn't budge that I had to show him that it would vanish and then he let me take it away from him".

You were loving all the childhood stories, holding Logan's hand and laughing with them, kissing his cheek once the rest of the group got up to help his aunt in the kitchen once they suggested that you stay over for dinner.

"I was a dorky kid, what can I say?", your boyfriend smiled as blush erupted on his cheeks.

"Shut up, your stories are the cutest!", you giggled, "way better than my 'I wanted to prove I was as tall as my older cousins so I fell in the pool' and 'I cut my own hair because my mum was busy with work and I thought I was helping her' stories", you argued.

"Depends on how you look at them, really", he smiled, stealing a kiss from your lips before Millie came back.

"Y/N, are you staying here with auntie Madelyn and uncle Daniel after Logan leaves?", she asked.

"Do you want me to leave, Millie?", Logan asked, feigning offense with his hand on his chest.

"No, silly - but I know you travel for work, so maybe Y/N could stay here!", she explained.

"I can't, Millie, I have school back home", you offered, noticing her shoulders fall.

"I like having you here, I like you", she muttered.

"I like you too a lot, Millie - how about we play as much as we can while I'm here, hm? You can pick my brain about anything you want, not just giraffes! Do you like tigers? Or cows?", you suggested, diverting the attention to something else.

"Tigers and cows? That's a weird combination", Logan quirked an eyebrow, "my practical exam was about cows and I was studying tigers before I left", you shrugged your shoulders.

"You guys can stay here whilst I do the debrief", Logan guided you inside the hospitality, letting you know where everything was in case you needed it.

You, Daniel and Madelyn engaged in conversation, hearing a couple of more stories from Logan's childhood and a few of your own stories from back home.

"It's my mum, sorry, if you'll excuse me", you said before heading outside since the signal was better there.

Once you finished your call to update your parents on how things were going there and here, you felt fabric run over your sandals, looking down to see a small dachshund puppy.

"Hey there, little one", you bent down to pet him, "you look like you're lost, hm? Who do you belong to?", you mused, rubbing his belly once he flopped down.

Behind you, you could hear Alex's and Logan's voice approaching and then you spotted Lily too.

"Hey, Y/N!", she waved, "Since when do you and Logan have a puppy? It's so cute!", she beamed.

"Hi! We don't, I just found him, or he found me I guess", you mumbled.

"This looks like Charles' dog, doesn't he?", she mused again.

"Have you two seen a small dachshund- Oh! Tell Charles he's here!", Logan said as he spotted the dog on your lap while Alex began calling the monégasque driver.

"He's here, Charles!", your boyfriend called once he spotted the Ferrari driver, "Animals just find their way to her, I guess", he joked as he watched you play with the dachshund puppy.

"Look at your puppy teeth - do you know what this one is called? I know, Leo! I go to university so I can treat little ones like you, but also the big ones! Have you met big dogs too?", you mused, all too happy with the puppy who seemed to be happy at the attention he was getting.

Charles approached you as you got up, carrying the puppy and giving him to him, "Oh no, Leo - did you run away from your parents?", you asked the dog, "now, that's not something nice to do, is it? They were probably worried about you, little guy!", you said before letting him go back to Charles.

"Thank you! He seems to have liked you", he pointed out, holding Leo in his arms.

"He just came in here and started playing with my shoelaces", you smiled.

"Leo does that a lot - last week, he found my sandals and he was a puppy on a mission running away from me with them!", Alexandra chuckled.

By the time the sprint race was happening, you sat in the garage and watched the whole race, waiting to see about the penalties they were handing out, seeing Logan ended up with P10.

"That was a good run, though, wasn't it?", you asked your boyfriend once he was able to be with you, "some learning curves for tomorrow at least".

"The balance was a bit off, but we'll look into it", he stated, kissing your forehead before also greeting his parents.

"I'm going to the bathroom", you excused yourself.

After discussing the sprint, his parents took the opportunity that you weren't there to talk to Logan about you.

"She loves you a lot, I can tell - I just hope we haven't been too much for her, this whole things is too much as it is", she gestured to the whole paddock and figuratively to the life her son led.

"The whole media attention definitely isn't her favourite thing, but she's been doing well, we speak about it every now and again to check and make sure we're both well with all of it. She's very private and her friends and family also help a lot with arranging stuff and being careful with those sorts of things", Logan offered.

"She's an incredible young woman, and you two are great together", Daniel complemented his wife's opinion.

All doubts of whether it had been right or not to bring you home for a few days washed away as Logan heard his parents talk about you like you were one of their own, welcoming you into their family so seamlessly and listing and pointing out all of the things that attracted Logan to you in the first place. You fit right in with his family and Logan couldn't be prouder of that.

#logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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astrogre · 8 months

Text

People Represented in each House

Including niche examples

Yourself, your persona. You as an individual. Your role models (projection of your ideal self)

Business partners, business collaborators, acting/modelling/any agency you are under. Podcasters you listen to, literal social media influencers, salesman, your self esteem mentors,your real estate agent, your savings coach, your bank, your stockbroker

2H includes people who influence how you earn money. 2H represents people who can influence your personal values and your self esteem E.g a Ben Shapiro to a politically curious individual, the kardashians to a teenage girl. 2nd house can also represent people involved in the maintenance, acquisition and management of your possessions and finances

Your siblings, your neighbours, your relatives like extended family, peers and acquaintances like the people in your class you know of but don’t talk to enough to say they’re your friend, peers, acquaintances, colleagues/coworkers, professors, educational teachers, speaking coach, language teacher

3H is related to intellectual pursuits, learning, just all forms of intellectual development, mercury sits well here. It’s about the people who you interact with daily as they influence your way of communication The individuals here would influence your communication style, interests and knowledge

Your mother (mother figure if you don’t have a mother), your parents but particularly your mother figure, the collective of your whole family, ancestors, caregivers, people that live in your house like your flatmates, your housemates, housekeepers, butlers

4H represents the physical home, the mother, familial connections, nurturers etc. so the people here would be the ones living in it and those who have influence in your domestic life

Your children, your inner child, you as a parent, your nieces, your nephews, romantic partners (short term), artistic partners E.g co-writers, collaborators, people involved in your projects, your students, your mentees, your investors, your hook up partners, people who you gamble or just play games with.

5H represents children, creativity, your mentoring to others, gambling, fun, joyful light love affairs, it’s also ruled by Leo. So we have these people involved with these themes

Coworkers, colleagues, employees, staff (individuals who work under you or provide a service to you), your doctor, your contractors, your nurses, your teammates, your healthcare providers, your therapist, your career coach, your internship mentor, your assistants, your service providers, your pets, your gym colleagues, your fitness instructor, your nutritionist, your organiser, your HR department, your vet

6H represents work environment, daily routines, service, health and well-being, these are the people that you find under that setting

Romantic partners, your spouse, life partner, your closest friends, confidants, allies, your supporters, your business partners, anyone you form a pact with, your clients, your customers (the kind you engage with in professional settings), your lawyers, your legal team, your competitors, your opponents, your matchmaker, your wedding planner, your relationship therapist

7H ruled by Libra represents all relationships that also includes bad ones btw, business relationships, marriage, 7H represents companions, partnerships, professional relationships, legal matters, professional representation so the people that fall under this house would be those that build relationships with you

Financial partners/advisors, therapists, inheritors, beneficiaries (who you inherit from), occult teachers, your intimate long term sexual partners, your accountant, your councillors, your psychologist, your insurance agents, your estate planners, your morticians

8H is associated with death, sex, psychology, transformation, joint resources etc. and so these are the kind of people that 8H would represent

Your professors, your teachers, your spiritual leaders, your priest, your pastor, your favourite scholars, your favourite philosophers, your lawyers, your judges, your legal advisors, your authors, your educational materials, your foreign friends, your foreign connections.

alike to 3H in education but 9H rules higher education so it’s an octave higher than 3H in terms of the teachers associated with it. 9H also represents justice and law so it would include people that work in this field that you encounter

10H

Your father, your boss, your mentor, your manager, people of authority, your parents (father in particular), influential figures you look up to, e.g your fave celebrities, government, politicians, your PR team, your publishers, you as a role model, your admirers like the people who look up to you, influencers, your business, icons

10H association with self-image and reputation and classic Saturn authority would include those who are involved in those themes

11H

Friends, peers. Social activists, humanitarians, philanthropists, inventors, forecasters, visionaries, leaders, community organisers, trendsetters

different from 3H in the sense that with 11H friends, you actually share the same goals and interests in mind whereas with 3H it’s mostly an exchange of communication about these parts of yourself and they are less as significant in your social life compared to 11H type of friends

12H

Spiritual beings, your religion, spiritual forces, your subconscious mind, artists, creative people, writers, hospital patients, prisoners, monks, religious people, volunteers, dreamers, charities.

12H represents those that can derive what is within their inner secluded world and bring it into reality. It’s associated with empathy, mental/spiritual state, seclusion and the bed. The people here would be those that would retreat, help others and tap into realms beyond the physical)

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finelinefae · 2 months

Text

home (doctor!harry)

synopsis: y/n is homesick and harry wants to help her

word count: 7.7k

contains: fluff, Filipino y/n, doctor harry, medical talk, homesickness, brief moments of discrimination, workplace bullying, rude co-workers

a/n: happy soft girl sunday!!! this is such an interesting and personal topic for me because so much of this was inspired by my mama and her own personal experiences of leaving her home in the Philippines and moving to an entirely different country to create a better life for herself. this one is for all of my girls who are struggling with homesickness, who work in a job because they have to not because they want to, who try to support their families, who work in healthcare, whose first language is not english, who feel as though their identity is muddled up and so much more- this is for you and this is for my mama too.

. . .

‘You have just as much right to be here as everyone else.’

That’s what Y/N had been telling herself since she had left for work in the early hours of this morning. She had barely slept a wink last night, tossing and turning as her mind was riddled with things that hadn’t happened but weighed so much.

Her backpack was filled with the things she listed weeks before. Her scrubs, a packed lunch, water, a few snacks to eat throughout the day and a couple of things loose at the bottom that jangled with each step she took towards the tube station. On her feet was a new pair of trainers her mother had bought her before she took the plane to a country she had never stepped foot in before the beginning of this month.

“Mahal kita, mamimiss kita.” I love you, I will miss you. Her mother had said as she dropped her off at the airport. No tears in her eyes because they were all in Y/N’s as she clenched her fingers around the handle of her small suitcase that was just enough to last the first few months out of the three years she’d be living away from her family.

“Mama,” Y/N cried, her family weren’t criers but today she was.

Y/N’s mother shook her head, refusing to allow herself to cry when this was meant to be good. “Gagawa ka ng mga magagandang bagay.” You will do such good things. Her mother wiped away her tears, “Mananatili pa rin ako dito sa loob ng tatlong taon at magiging mas mahusay ka.” I will still be here in three years and you will be someone better.

Y/N was homesick as soon as the plane lifted off the ground of her home country. The trouble with planes was the window was always too small and she could only ever look down and not behind. Once they flew over her country of the Philippines, she took in everything she possibly could - the bright colours of the sea and the sand on the beaches that stretched for miles.

She would come back and she would be better, for her family.

As she stepped off of the tube train and walked up the steps towards the light, she took the sunshine peeking through the gaps of the grey clouds in the London sky as a good sign. Even though things weren’t easy, it doesn’t mean they were bad.

The hospital was huge in comparison to the hospitals where she had done her training back home. It took her a while to find where the entrance was without going in through the emergency department but eventually, she found her way to the front desk.

"Hi," Y/N said softly, feeling unsure. Even though she was good at English after years of studying it during school, she still doubted herself, especially around fluent speakers. It made her feel embarrassed and more of an outsider than she already was. “I’m Y/N, I’m here to pick up my ID badge.”

The woman at the desk, peered over her glasses and smiled, “Is today your first day?”

“Yes, I’m a healthcare assistant,” Y/N offered a smile, as best as she could despite her nerves.

The woman’s fingers clacked against the keyboard, “I’m afraid your ID badge has yet to be delivered so I’ll have to give you a temporary one.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, “Oh okay,”

“Let me print one out for you, I’ll be right back.” The receptionist slid off her chair.

Y/N stood to the side, her eyes darting around the hospital. There were many healthcare workers already at work, pushing patients around in wheelchairs or walking in pairs down huge corridors. She gripped the strap of her backpack, her palms sweating.

Suddenly, a man stepped up to the desk beside her, reaching over to grab a clipboard and a pen. He was wearing a white shirt with a stethoscope around his neck. Y/N’s eyes narrowed on his badge, seeing the word ‘Doctor’ written in bold.

"Can I help you?" he asked in a detached tone, his attention elsewhere.

Y/N hesitated, noticing his lack of focus. "Um, no, I'm just waiting," she stammered.

He scoffed dismissively. "Typical," he muttered, setting the clipboard back down and finally turning to face her.

Y/N was taken aback by his striking appearance. Her breath caught as she met his gaze, momentarily forgetting her surroundings. His features were chiselled, framed by dark hair that fell effortlessly across his forehead. But it was his piercing eyes that held her captive, a mesmerising shade of green that reminded her of the leaves off the mango trees that grew in her hometown.

His gaze found hers, and she noticed the subtle parting of his lips as his eyes settled on her. There was a softness in his gaze, a gentle relaxation evident in the way his shoulders eased down. Maybe it was from how frightened she looked as her gaze landed on everything around her but his voice was softer now, a hint of concern evident beneath the initial hardness, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly as she regained her composure. "Uh, no, I'm fine, thank you," she managed to reply, feeling a flutter in her chest at the unexpected kindness in his tone.

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “Well alright then. I know how hard first days can be so if I see you around, don’t worry about asking me for help.”

“Oh uh, thank you…Doctor,” Y/N replied, taken aback by his kindness.

“Y’ can call me Harry,” She noticed a dimple appear when he smiled. His eyes were fixed on her for a beat before he pointed to his name badge and continued, “S my name y’ see.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile and a little giggle escaped her, “It’s a nice name.”

“What’s your name?” Harry asked but was interrupted by the receptionist returning.

“Good morning Doctor Styles,” She greeted as she sat back at the desk.

“Good morning Hannah,” Harry replied, his eyes darting from Y/N to Hannah.

The woman slid the badge over to Y/N. It was a printed-out copy of the badge she was supposed to have gotten, laminated and whole-punched to a lanyard. Y/N took it between her fingers and read her name on it, her eyebrows furrowing. “Um, I think my last name is spelt wrong,” Y/N said, it would be fine if it was a small spelling mistake but it may as well be a completely different name with the way it had been spelt.

“Sorry?” Hannah’s smile faltered.

"U-um, my last name is spelled wrong. I-I'm sorry, I don't want to be such a pain," Y/N stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she handed the lanyard back to the receptionist.

The receptionist glanced at the name badge, and then back at Y/N. "Oh, it must be because it's such a complicated name. I must have spelt it wrong on the computer. Are you sure you can't just use it? Only until your ID comes in?"

Y/N felt a sinking feeling in her chest. She hated confrontation or being an inconvenience, but she had already given up so much for a better life here. She couldn't give up her name too. "But it's my name," she insisted softly, her voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and determination.

Just as the receptionist's mouth opened to respond, the Doctor, who had been silently observing, cleared his throat. "Hannah, I think it would be better if we give Y/N the correct name on her own ID badge, don't you think?" He interjected gently, coming to Y/N's aid without hesitation. “The whole point of it is to let people know who we are, we wouldn’t want people getting Y/N’s name wrong on her first day would we?”

Hannah frowned and Y/N could tell she wasn’t happy, “Right, I’ll be right back.”

Y/N released a sigh, putting a hand to her forehead, “Thank you, Doctor Styles.” She said even though she was extremely embarrassed.

“Hey it’s Harry,” He smiled, “And you were right to argue with her, ‘s your name which is beautiful by the way.” Y/N's cheeks flushed even deeper at his compliment, but she managed a shy smile in return, feeling a sense of gratitude for Harry's kindness and support. “Don’t let these people push you around. You have just of a right to be here as everyone else.”

Y/N’s lips parted as he spoke the words she had been repeating to herself since she woke up. Y/N watched him go, her heart still racing at the unexpected encounter, a newfound warmth spreading through her as she resumed her wait in the bustling hospital corridor.

Hannah soon returned with an annoyed look on her face as she handed Y/N her temporary badge with her name written correctly. She thanked her and walked away already having gained a possible enemy but maybe a possible friend too.

. . .

“I don’t want her as my nurse,” An elderly patient said midway through the day as they were serving lunch.

Y/N had been in her scrubs for five hours, with another seven to go. Her feet ached from standing all day, attending to the patients that had been assigned to her at the start of the day. While some of the other healthcare workers had been welcoming, she couldn't ignore the clear divide between them. They tended to gather in separate groups and have their own cliques going on amongst them, but Y/N appreciated their support as she adjusted to her new role, minding her own business as she did.

“Margot,” Layla, another healthcare assistant, spoke to the eighty-year-old woman who was laying in bed waiting for her lunch to be fed to her, “Y/N’s a new healthcare assistant, she’s just going to be feeding you lunch.”

“I don’t want her,” Margot protested, “I want someone else.”

Y/N's gaze dropped, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach. She had been expecting this to happen at some point but she didn’t think it would happen so soon. "It's alright, Layla. I'll take over your tasks," Y/N offered quietly, not wanting to make a scene.

Layla's eyes softened with sympathy. "She's not usually like this," she whispered.

Y/N nodded, her resolve firm as she gathered her belongings to assist elsewhere. "No problem," she replied with a shrug, masking her hurt.

"C'mon, Margot," Layla urged gently, collecting the tray of hot lunch.

"I don't want a foreigner feeding me," Margot muttered sharply, her words stinging the air.

Y/N’s eyes stung as she left the room. She thought she had been lucky with her patient’s today and the majority of them had been rather lovely. They’d been interested in Y/N’s life, noticing her olive-toned complexion and black hair and asking her where she came from. The question allowed her to reminisce on her time back home and describe the foods and the environment she grew up with but it was only so long before she came across someone who didn’t care - seeing her as nothing more than a stranger in a foreign land that never quite felt like home.

Y/N took three deep breaths before stepping into the wing to cover Layla's shift for an hour. She knew she needed to shake off the hurt from the recent encounter, hoping that immersing herself in work would help ease the discomfort.

Three other women were working on the ward when Y/N entered the room. They were sitting in the corner on plastic chairs, sharing a phone screen as some show played. One of them turned when they noticed Y/N was in the room which caused the other two to follow.

“Hello,” Y/N spoke, timidly, “I’m here to help out Layla for a little while.”

The women exchanged knowing glances, their expressions morphing into smirks. One of them, the apparent leader of the group, sneered as she replied, "Oh, great. About time someone else did some work around here. Layla's been slacking off all morning."

“Really?” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, Layla had been very kind to her just moments ago.

“Yeah,” The leader replied, her lips smacking together as she chewed on a piece of gum, “You can start by feeding those three their lunches.” She pointed her finger towards three patients lying in their beds.

“All three?” There were only six beds in the room.

“Is there a problem?” The woman folded her arms, the other two trying not to laugh behind her.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “No there is not.”

Y/N rolled up her sleeves and got to work, trying to spoon-feed all three patients as the other girls sat in the corner continuing to watch their show. Despite the mocking gaze of her co-workers, Y/N was fully determined to prove to herself that she could get through this. She needed to just put her head down and remind herself that this was for the better - the money would be worth it at the end of the month and she’d have enough to send to her family back home too.

As Y/N sat with the last patient, one of the ladies stood up to go and tended to another one. “Janice,” She cooed, walking over to the side of the bed where an elderly woman lay asleep, “Janice wake up love,” She squeezed her hand, “Janice?”

Y/N’s head shot in their direction, her eyes falling on Janice who wouldn’t wake up. She dropped the bowl of food on the side table and rushed over, “Hello Janice? Can you hear me?” The lady asked as Y/N put her ear to her mouth to see if she was breathing.

“She’s unconscious,” Y/N stated, “Her throat is blocked, did you feed her?”

The woman’s eyes were wide, “I-I-”

“Call the doctor,” Y/N instructed one of the other girls who immediately pressed the red button to alert the emergency services.

“We don’t have enough time,” Y/N muttered, “Get me a tracheostomy tube.”

“We don’t have authorisation to-”

“I can do it, I’ve done it before, please.” Y/N’s adrenaline was running high but she remained calm on the surface, it was what she had been trained to do.

The woman hurried over with a tube, and Y/N wasted no time. With steady hands, she performed a tracheostomy to create an emergency airway for Janice. Time seemed to blur as Y/N worked quickly and efficiently.

Minutes later, as Y/N finished, the doctor entered the room, taking in the scene with great concern and alertness on his face. “Where’s the emergency?” It was Doctor Styles, Y/N recognised him by his voice.

She squeezed her eyes shut, even though the patient had been saved and was able to breathe better, it wasn’t protocol to allow Healthcare assistants to perform such an intricate procedure that could so easily go wrong. She could be in big trouble for this and it was only her first day.

“Janice was unconscious, she was barely breathing,” One of Y/N’s co-workers explained.

Harry approached the patient, his eyes widening in disbelief as he realised what Y/N had done. "You did this?" he asked his tone a mix of astonishment and concern.

Y/N looked up, her stomach churning with dread. She could already picture the disappointment on her mother's face for potentially jeopardising her job on the first day. "I was trying to-"

"Do you realise how dangerous this procedure is?" Harry's voice cut through her explanation.

Y/N's gaze fell to the ground, her throat tightening with guilt. "Yes, I do."

"She could have died," Harry stated, his tone grave.

"I know, but I-" Y/N began, her words faltering.

"You saved her life," Harry's interruption caught Y/N off guard, her head shooting up to meet his gaze. For the first time, she saw the awe and shock reflected in his eyes.

“How did you know how to do it?” Harry asked, genuine curiosity evident in his tone.

“I learnt it during my training,” Y/N explained, her nerves still on edge.

“You just learnt it?” Harry chuckled softly, his gaze drifting to the other women in the room. "And what were you three doing when this happened?"

“W-well, we've yet to learn that procedure, Doctor Styles,” one of them spoke up, the rest nodding along in agreement.

Harry rolled his eyes, his attention returning to Y/N. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Truly remarkable,” he said, his gaze fixed on her.

. . .

Y/N was exhausted at the end of her shift. Her bag was still packed, her lunch and snacks untouched, because she had been on her feet all day. Her skin felt sticky underneath her sweatshirt, she couldn’t wait to shower once she got back to the house.

As she left the hospital, she inhaled the fresh air and felt the cool breeze against her flushed face. She needed to get the tube station back to her boarding house but she was grateful to finally have a few hours away from the scent of disinfectant and rude co-workers.

“Y/N!” Y/N spun on her heel as she heard the call of her name, turning to see Doctor Styles pacing towards her. It was the first time today she had seen him wearing glasses.

“Doctor Styles, I thought you would be at home already,” She smiled as best as she could despite feeling much too tired to do so.

“No, I still have a few hours to go.” He replied, that dimple and sparkle in his eye returning to his equally tired face. “I caught you walking out and left my office to come speak to you. I was really impressed by what you did today. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen a healthcare assistant do that under such pressure.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Y/N was terrible at taking compliments, even more so when she was tired.

“It was everything. You saved a woman’s life.” Harry stated.

"Right," Y/N murmured, her mind still reeling from the events of the day and Harry's constant acknowledgement.

A brief moment of silence fell between them as Harry looked as though he was trying to speak but didn’t know how to word it properly, “Listen I…forgive me if I’m being too forward but would you maybe want to grab something to eat with me one night, maybe, I don’t know. If you want to of course, no pressure, and if you have a boyfriend that’s okay too but is it okay if you don’t tell me because that would be incredibly kind towards my pride.”

For the first time today, Y/N released a genuine laugh as he finished his rambling. “You’re not like the boys back home.” She said after she had composed herself.

Harry frowned, “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s refreshing,” She told him, it was nice to experience something new and it be a good thing for once. “I will go out with you Harry.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips, despite his attempt to suppress it by biting his bottom lip. He rubbed his hand over his mouth in a futile effort to conceal his grin, but the crinkles around his eyes and the dimples on his cheeks betrayed his amusement. "Okay," he chuckled softly, unable to contain his delight. "That’s good."

“I have an afternoon off in three days time, is that okay?” He asked eagerly, wanting to see her as soon as possible.

“I would like that,” she says, her voice filled with anticipation. “A lot actually.”

Their gazes locked for a brief moment. “Well, I should probably get going,” Y/N said, breaking the silence.

“Yes, of course. Can I give you my number first? I can text you the details later if that’s okay,” Harry asked, pulling his phone out of his back pocket.

“Oh, sure,” Y/N replied, taking out her phone, which only had her family’s numbers saved in it.

Harry quickly typed his number into Y/N's phone before handing it back to her with a warm smile. “I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow?” Harry asked.

“Yes, I’m here tomorrow.” Harry walked backwards towards the hospital entrance, smiling and shaking his head before turning his back to her.

Y/N was in disbelief as she began her journey home. She couldn't shake the feeling of surprise that someone like Harry would want to go on a date with her. Dating wasn't even on her radar when she arrived; she had suspected that no man would find her attractive because of how she looked - she wasn’t really deemed the stereotypical female in Western society. But Harry's genuine interest had shattered those doubts. As she navigated through the bustling streets, a newfound sense of confidence began to bloom within her. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something wonderful and a new distraction from her overwhelming life.

. . .

Harry had been eyeing the clock all morning.

“Have somewhere to be?” Niall, his co-worker, asked, having seen him glued to the clock.

“Something like that,” Harry mumbled.

With just an hour left of his shift, Harry couldn't shake the anticipation of taking Y/N out for dinner tonight. She had been occupying his thoughts incessantly for the past three days. The golden hue of her skin and the soft, round features of her face had etched themselves into his mind. He found himself mesmerised by the almond shape of her eyes, their deep brown colour reminiscent of a shot of espresso in the morning.

He loved the melodic, soft tones of her voice and the way she spoke with an accent that brought life into the usual boring words people spoke to him every day. He thought about how her cheeks would tinge pink whenever she’d start speaking, how shy she was whenever he’d praise her or how expressive her eyes were whenever she wasn’t talking.

He was a Doctor and knew all the ways in which the mind and body worked but he was beginning to question his beliefs since he had met Y/N because he was pretty sure he had fallen in love at first sight.

Everything about her had been on his mind and he was desperate to find out all that he possibly could about the quiet, shy healthcare assistant who saved the life of a woman on her first day.

Interrupting the images of Y/N that had been playing in his mind, was the sound of the buzzer to the emergency department. Harry sat up at the same time as Niall who was already standing to his feet to go and see what the problem was. He sighed, hoping for time to hurry up so the evening would arrive much sooner.

“Hey it’s me,” Harry sighed a heavy sigh into the phone as he held it against his ear, sitting in his car in the staff parking area of the hospital many hours later. His forehead was pressed against the steering wheel as tiredness and guilt laced within him.

“Hello Harry,” Y/N’s soft voice rang through the speaker, soothing a piece of him that was just so tired, “Is everything okay?”

Harry’s eyes squeezed shut, “You’re probably going to hate me for this but is there any chance we can reschedule? Something came up at work and I’ve only just come out.” He was five hours overtime after a family had been rushed into the emergency room after an accident.

He swallowed as he waited for her to reply, “Oh,” She said and the small remark made him feel even more guilty than he already felt.

“I’m sorry,” He hated himself because it was all he had been looking forward to.

“Harry,” Y/N said his name, “It’s okay. I’ve worked in enough hospitals to know these things happen. Of course, we can go at another time but are you okay?”

He released a long breath at the question, “No not really,” it was the truth and another reason why he needed to reschedule the date. He had seen some pretty tough things today and it weighed heavily on his mind.

“Have you eaten?” Y/N asked, concern in her voice.

His eyes stung, his head falling back against the headrest, “No I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Y/N sighed over the phone, “Do you live close by?”

“I live about ten minutes from the hospital,” He told her, wondering why she would ask.

“Is it okay if I come by?” She asks, “I mean it’s okay if not.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped, “That actually sounds really nice.”

The fact that Y/N would be visiting him at his home seemed to ease the weight of the long day from Harry's shoulders. With a faint smile playing on his lips, he leaned back in his seat, feeling a hint of anticipation at the thought of her company.

When Harry got home, he saw how messy his apartment was. Feeling a sudden jolt of energy, he quickly picked up his laundry off of the floor and threw dirty dishes into the dishwasher. He took a moment to straighten up the living room and fluff the cushions on the couch. Trying to make everything look cleaner than it actually was in order to impress her.

His buzzer rang and he quickly went to answer it, allowing her to come up as his heart raced in his chest. With one last glance around the room, he swiftly nudged something under the coffee table before reaching the door just as she knocked.

Harry felt all the tiredness from his body lift when he opened the door and found her standing there with a plastic carrier bag in her hands. She was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt, her hair tied up in a ponytail and her face make-up free.

“Hey,” He breathed, a piece of him settling when he laid eyes on her, “Thank you for coming here.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” She smiled and walked past him after he moved to the side to let her in.

Her eyes were wide as she took in his apartment, “This is a lot better than the boarding house.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “You’re living in a boarding house?”

She nodded, “Only until I can find my own place to live. It was what the company who transferred me here offered when I applied.”

“I see,” Harry realised he was still in his uniform except his shirt was untucked and his tie was loose around his neck.

Y/N placed the plastic bag on the kitchen counter, “I bought some things to make you since you didn’t eat. How about I start cooking and you can get changed?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, “I-I hope you don’t think I invited you over to cook for me Y/N. I actually really just wanted to see you.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, “It’s okay, I enjoy cooking and maybe it’s my excuse to see you too.”

He took a step forward, “If I had known you had been waiting to find an excuse I would have invited you over much sooner.”

She shifted under his gaze, biting her lip to stop her smile, “Go get dressed,” She ordered and Harry grinned, it was the first time he had seen her act so assertively.

He took a thirty-minute long shower, scrubbing off the remains of the day from his skin. He wore a grey sweatshirt and sweatpants, drying his hair with a towel as he re-entered the kitchen to find Y/N already plating up the food she had made.

The kitchen was an aroma of fragrances Harry had never smelt before. His mouth watered as Y/N spooned rice onto plates and picked up the saucepan to bring to the kitchen island. “This smells amazing,” Harry sat on one of the stools, picking up a knife and fork.

“It’s called chicken adobo,” Y/N informs him, “It’s a traditional dish of the Philippines, my mama used to make it for me and my sister when we’d come in from school.”

Harry listened intently, “That’s where you’re from?”

Y/N smiled, “It’s my home.” She took Harry’s plate and spooned some of the chicken on top of the rice before doing the same for herself, “I hope you don’t mind but I use my hands to eat,”

Harry lowered his knife and fork, “Really?”

“Mhm,” Y/N picked up some of the rice and chicken with her fingers, “It’s called Kamayan. It’s meant to help appreciate the flavours and textures of the food we make or are served.”

Harry looked genuinely interested as Y/N ate the food pressed into her hand, “Can I try?”

Y/N paused chewing on her food, not expecting him to want to try something that in many Western cultures might be considered bad manners. She quickly swallowed it down and nodded, “Of course.”

Harry pursed his lips as he concentrated on gathering the rice and chicken into his hands. He felt the stickiness of the rice as he pressed it with his fingers. It wasn’t as graceful as Y/N had done as he attempted to put it all into his mouth. He chewed on the chicken, his taste buds tingling at the new flavour.

Swallowing it down his eyes brightened, “It’s delicious!”

Y/N’s eyes crinkled, “Yeah? You think so?”

“I’ve never eaten with my hands before but it feels quite liberating.” He chuckles.

Y/N laughs, “My mama always told us to eat with our hands.”

Harry repeated the action, scooping the perfect serving into his hand and eating it, “Where did you live when you lived in the Philippines?”

“I grew up in Roxas City- it’s on one of the many islands and it’s beautiful. The beaches stretch for miles and the water is so blue and clear you can see your feet walking along the bottom.” Harry watched as Y/N explained animatedly what her home country was like. Her words brought the images to life in his mind as he pictured her walking along the beaches.

He was happy to see her relax into conversation the more questions he asked about her home, “What made you want to come here to work?”

Y/N’s smile faltered and Harry wished he could take back the question but she answered, “My family aren’t wealthy and I always knew I would have to leave at some point to go out and make enough money to bring back for them so we could have a better life. I trained in healthcare so I could come here and work.”

Harry's expression softened, concern evident in his eyes. "Has it been difficult?" he asked gently. He knew it might sound like a cliché question, but he genuinely wanted to make sure she was coping okay. It must be incredibly difficult having to leave everything you know for something completely different.

“I’m so homesick,” Y/N’s eyes watered, “Every day I go back to that boarding house and count down the days until I can go home again. I-I thought I knew English before coming here but it’s so difficult to understand when people are talking so fast and expecting you to know what they’re saying.” Harry grabbed a tissue and passed it to her. She took it in her hands and gave him a watery smile, “I miss my mama and my sister and the sun. London is so grey.”

Harry reached out a hand and gripped her fingers, squeezing them gently, “Hey, you’re doing so good Y/N.” He started, “You’re so unbelievably brave for coming here and starting this new life. I mean I couldn’t do what you’re doing - I get homesick even when my mum lives ten minutes away,” Y/N laughs and the sound sparks something inside of him, even when she was crying she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life, “You should be so proud of yourself and I know your family is proud of you too.”

Y/N’s watery eyes looked into his, “Thank you,” She whispered, “This is the first time I’ve stepped outside my house other than to get that stupid train to work.”

“Seriously?” Harry was shocked, no wonder she was feeling so trapped and cooped up.

Harry glanced at their two empty plates before giving her hand a tight squeeze, “C’mon,”

“What-” Y/N watched as he grabbed his jacket and car keys.

“Let me take you somewhere,” He insisted, his voice warm and inviting.

“But it’s dark outside?” Y/N slid off her stool and followed him to the front door.

“That’s the best time of day,” He smirked and whisked her away to his car where he drove her through the streets of London, illuminated by the lights that lit up the streets.

He parked on the side of the road somewhere and they walked for fifteen minutes until they reached a busier area of the city where people were still out with friends, “Hopefully it’s still there,” He mumbled.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N frowned and her head lifted to see the bright lights from billboards that surrounded the square. Perfume adverts and models appeared on the big screens as tourists posed for pictures in front of them.

“This is Piccadilly Circus,” Harry motioned to the place they were standing in. He intertwined their fingers and led her over to stand her in front of the biggest billboard of them all, “And that is your home.” He pointed to it and the billboard switched to a picture of a beach that looked almost exactly the same as the one she had grown up near. Big, bold letters with the words ‘Visit the Philippines’ were at the bottom but Y/N couldn’t seem to stop staring at the sea that illuminated the square, casting it in blue light.

Her eyes glistened with tears, “I know it’s not the same,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, “But-”

“It’s my home,” Y/N gasped, a grin taking over her entire face, “That’s where I’m from Harry!”

Harry’s grin mirrored hers, “It is!” He replies with equal enthusiasm.

“Can you take a picture of me?” She reached for her phone and passed it to him. Y/N smiled like a kid at Christmas in front of the billboard and Harry quickly snapped a picture before it switched to a different advert.

He handed the phone back to her and she looked down unable to keep her eyes off of that blue sea she had been missing. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” She murmured and looked up to see him already gazing at her, “Thank you.”

Harry smiled bashfully, shaking his head, “I know you don’t believe it yet but I think you were meant to be here at this moment in life and I think maybe I was meant to be here too.” He admitted.

“You really think that?” She asked.

“I believe it wholeheartedly,” He stated.

When the billboard returned to the picture of the sea, Y/N insisted Harry stand to get a picture in front of it. He pulled a face, pointing at the billboard and the picture came out all blurry because Y/N had been laughing too much.

Late into the night, they stayed in Piccadilly Circus taking pictures of each other and with each other as the beach appeared on the screen. Harry swore his camera roll was now just pictures of Y/N squealing with excitement whenever the image of the beach appeared.

In the moments in between, they sat and spoke. Comparing cultures and learning more about one another. Whilst Y/N had learnt about Harry’s family and living in the English countryside as a child, Harry had learnt all about Y/N’s time in the sun and how much she adored fishing in the spring and picking mangoes off her grandpa’s mango trees.

It wasn’t a date, it was more than that.

It was the converging of two paths in life that had now become one.

. . .

Mahal na mama, Dear mama.

I got my first paycheck today and I have sent you as much as I can. I hope it’s enough to buy you some new shoes because I know you are getting tired of your old ones.

I have been working hard and I’m slowly growing used to the way things work here. I’d be lying if I told you it was easy, it’s been so incredibly hard. So many times I have been desperate to come home, wondering whether this was where I belonged or if it just wasn’t meant to be.

But Mama, I’ve met someone.

Don’t be upset. I know you always told me and sissy it should always be careers before boys but he has become my home away from home mama.

He’s a doctor at the hospital and his name is Harry.

Every day he picks me up from work even though his apartment is right by the hospital and we walk into work together. He’s not embarrassed to hold my hand or kiss me goodbye either.

I spend a lot of days at his home because it’s a lot nicer than my boarding house. He asks me to cook him some of your recipes and he tells me to tell you that they are delicious and he hopes one day that you can cook them for him.

He loves to listen to me speak about home and I love to hear him speak about his.

He’s introduced me to this whole other world of culture mama and it is so beautiful.

I love you and I miss you but I am safe and happy and I am doing well.

I am still counting down the days until I can come home and visit you but just know I am no longer homesick because of him.

Mahal kita Mama.

. . .

“Ang pangalan ko ay Harry,”

“Ang… Pan-gaaa-”

“Pangalan,” Y/N tried not to laugh at the concentrated look on his face.

“Pangalan,” She nods.

“Ang pangalan ko ay Harry,” Harry looks at her for confirmation and she nods, leaning forward to kiss him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry, my name is Y/N.” She murmurs against his lips.

She feels his lips curve against hers before he puckers them and presses kisses all over her face. She tries to pull him away but he keeps her in his grip until they collapse onto the bed. “Harryyyy,” She giggles as he presses kisses along her exposed collarbones.

“What’s the word for kisses again?” He murmurs against her neck.

Y/N’s hands run through his curls, pushing them back from his face. Her lips ghost against his as she murmurs, “Mga halik,”

“Mga halik,” He repeats, his pronunciation improving.

“Mhm,” She puckers her lips to kiss him to which he happily hums and returns her kiss. “I need to start dinner,”

“No,” He whines, holding onto her, “Stay.”

“But I’m so hungry and you need to help me with the lumpia.” She says referring to the spring roles she had taught him to make.

“We can’t order a pizza?” He pouts, “I just want to hold you.”

Y/N sighed but was unable to prevent herself from falling for the pouty look on his face, “Fine, we’ll get a pizza but only if we can get it with pineapple.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, “Criminal,”

“But you love me?” She grins, cheekily.

“I do,” He kisses her before grabbing his phone, “I truly do.”

Since moving to a new country and meeting Harry, Y/N's life had transformed. He had brought back the sense of familiarity she had lost when she moved across the world. In him, she found not just love, but a true home—a place where she belonged and was cherished in return.

Her work and life in general had become easier because she no longer felt so alone. Every day they’d sit together during their lunch breaks at work and go back to Harry’s apartment at the end of their shifts.

“Hi baby,” Harry greeted her whenever she’d get into the car with him. He’d lean over the console and kiss her.

“Hi syota,” Sweetheart. She’d say in return and despite how tired he felt, he always managed to smile at the term of endearment she’d picked for him.

Further into their dating, Harry had been desperate to learn her language. Even though Y/N told him it didn’t matter to her - they had their own ways of communicating that only they understood, bridging the gap between words that got lost in translation - he was instant on it.

“But when our kids learn, I’ll be left out.” It was the first time he said I love you without even saying the three words.

As they sat in his living room, which was slowly becoming hers too, eating pizza and watching Lord of the Rings, because Harry was insistent on making Y/N watch the whole series if she wanted to truly see the beauty of Western culture, Y/N realised that maybe Harry was right and this was where she was meant to be all along.

“I love you,” Harry murmured as he held her in his arms on the couch.

“Mahal kita.” I love you. She replied, feeling more at home in his arms than she did anywhere else in the world.

3 years later…

“Are you nervous baby?” Harry whispered in her ear as they sat side by side on the plane, their fingers intertwined. She was wearing his sweater and he had one of her rings on a chain around his neck, it was the physical representation of how they had interwoven their lives had become.

“A little,” Y/N confessed, glancing out the window to see they were nearing the island she had left three years ago. “I’m worried they won’t like this version of me.”

“Hey,” Harry cupped her cheek in his hand, “They’re your family, they’ll love every version of you the same way I do.”

Y/N’s lips turned upwards, “You promise?”

“I’d never lie to you my love,” He kissed the bridge of her nose.

The plane shook as it landed on the ground. Y/N could already feel the heat of the sun before she’d even stepped off the plane, just from looking out the window. Harry grabbed her duffle bag from the overhead compartment and took his own travel case as well.

He was wearing a shirt that said ‘But Daddy I love him’ and white shorts with sunglasses buried in his dishevelled curls. They had been flying for hours, the both of them exhausted, but Y/N couldn’t seem to calm the jitters of seeing her home again.

Harry pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head, “Calm down, puso ko.” my heart.

“Do you think she’ll be here?” Y/N was already craning her neck as they got to passport control even though it was impossible to see past the arrival gates from where they stood.

She remembered what her mother had told her when she dropped her off to start her new life in England.

“Mananatili pa rin ako dito sa loob ng tatlong taon at magiging mas mahusay ka.” I will still be here in three years and you will be someone better.

She hoped she had done just as her mother said and she would be returning to her as someone better than the person she used to be.

Once they got through the gate, Y/N stood on her toes and tried to spot her mother in the crowds. She didn’t expect to see her right away as her mother was rather short but she hoped she’d sense her presence somewhere in the room.

“Do you see her?” Y/N asked, Harry was also looking around to see if she was somewhere.

“Y/N!” A warm, comforting voice that echoed in the depths of her childhood and rang through her to this day, called for her amongst the bustle of people.

Y/N’s eyes watered, “Mama!” She called, spinning around to find her.

“Hey look baby,” Harry pointed and that’s when Y/N saw her. Her arms open, standing in the place she promised she would be three years later.

“Mama!” Y/N dropped Harry’s hand and ran towards her mother, enveloping herself in her arms and feeling her soft skin against her own. She felt the hands that had held her as a child, cling to the back of her shirt.

“Ang anak ko,” My child. Her mother held her.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Y/N whispered, her eyes flooding with tears.

Y/N pulled away, looking down at her mother and feeling a fresh flood of tears fill her eyes. A presence came up behind her, a hand on her shoulder. She put her hand on top of his and watched as her mother’s eyes widened in surprise, “Mama, this is my boyfriend, Harry.”

Harry cleared his throat, placing their bags on the floor, “Hello ang pangalan ko ay Harry. Ikinagagalak kitang makilala.” Hello, my name is Harry. Nice to meet you. His tone was slightly unsure as he spoke but Y/N beamed as he spoke the words to his mother, having spent the last few years teaching him.

Her mother smiled, a tear falling from her eye. Y/N’s lips parted, having never seen her mother cry before. She took a step forward and then wrapped her arms around Harry, “Salamat sa pag-aalaga sa anak ko.” thank you for taking care of my daughter.

Y/N covered her mouth to stop herself from sobbing in the middle of the airport. She wanted to take this moment and bottle it up as she watched her two favourite people in the entire world embrace each other.

If there was one thing Y/N had learnt from her time away it was that home wasn’t so much of a place anymore but the people instead.

These were her people.

They were her home.

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