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thef1diary · 2 days

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While It Lasts | L. Norris - 1

Summary: Lando expected nothing more than relaxation and fun for two weeks during his summer break. What he didn’t anticipate was meeting you, someone who felt like a perfect match in every way. As the days quickly passed, he found himself falling deeply for you, only to be confronted with the heart-wrenching reality that your time together was far more limited than he ever imagined.

Part 2

PLEASE READ: This story contains themes of loss, morality, fear, death, relationship strains, mental health struggles, including significant emotional impact related to the reader’s journey with a chronic illness and some scenes are set in hospitals. Reminder that this is simply a work of fiction, please don’t take it to heart.

a hugeee thank you to @chilling-seavey @thefourthln @faithshouseofchaos for proofreading this and constantly reassuring me that this isn’t shit 😭 I wouldn’t have posted this fic without your support 🫶🏻

pairing: lando x fem!reader

wc: 15.9k (because tumblr won't let me post the whole thing at once)

“C’mon, you’re gonna love it there,” Lando attempted to persuade his best friend.

Max Fewtrell rolled his eyes, asking incredulously, “mate, are you seriously considering taking us to a small town over partying all day, everyday in the city?”

Lando shrugged, holding his finger up for a moment, asking him to wait while he scrolled through his phone to find the photos that Carlos sent him earlier. “It’s not just a small town, look at this.” He turned the phone around to show his best friend the photos of their potential home for the next two weeks.

Max scoffed, still not believing that Lando was changing their pre-made plans at the last minute, “and why would Carlos just give you the keys to that villa looking thing?”

“It’s his uncle’s vacation home, and it’ll be empty if we don’t go. You don’t want to leave this beauty empty, do you?”

Max sighed, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s antics. As soon as he saw the photos, he was convinced to discard the previous plans and take the opportunity to live in that home, but of course he wouldn’t admit it straightaway.

“Show me the photos again,” he simply muttered, earning a laugh from Lando as he swiped through the pictures.

“There’s literally only one other house nearby, we won’t get that in the city now, would we?” Lando commented, watching the cogs turning in Max’s mind.

Despite Max's initial reluctance, Lando could see the spark of curiosity flickering in his friend's eyes as he examined the photos. He knew he was close to winning Max over.

"So, what do you say, Max? Are you in?" Lando pressed, a hopeful tone in his voice.

Max hesitated for a moment, weighing his options before finally letting out a resigned sigh. "Alright, fine, you win. Let's give this small town adventure a shot," he conceded, unable to resist the allure of the stunning villa.

Lando grinned triumphantly. "Trust me, mate, you won't regret it," he assured him, clapping him on the back.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about that. When are we leaving?” He asked instead, still not wanting to get his hopes up in case he would be left disappointed.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Max asked, eyes widening when Lando nodded.

“Go pack your bags, mate,” Lando shoved him with full force once he noticed Max wasn’t leaving the room.

He laughed when Max finally regained his sense of motion and scrambled out the room, muttering to himself while packing everything he thought he needed for the next two weeks. Despite having a habit of travelling, it wasn’t any less stressful to pack, especially with a short notice.

Lando sighed and leaned back into his chair, holding up his phone in front of him. He admired the picturesque view of the villa in the photos, containing his excitement because he would be able to see the same view in person soon enough.

Perhaps this was what he needed, especially after the stress that continued to build up over the first half of the season. While he had a better start to the season than he was used to, it didn’t ease any pressure. He was constantly thinking about what he can do as a driver to improve the car while having to face the media at every race weekend and answering the same question over and over again. It was too much for him to handle.

It was part of the reason why he was adamant on convincing Max to take a break in a place where they wouldn’t be seen as much as they usually do in Monaco. It would give him a chance of exploring a new town while also staying under the radar.

When Carlos first suggested the idea, Lando instantly agreed. The promise of two weeks of relaxation and exploration ahead sounded like a dream to him. Lando couldn't wait to leave the pressures of the racing world behind and immerse himself in the beauty of the coastal town. Little did he know, amidst the winding streets and sun-kissed beaches, he would find more than just a temporary escape.

—

As the taxi pulled up to the gates, the driver turned to them with a grin. "Here we are, gentlemen. Enjoy your stay," he announced, gesturing towards the grand entrance of the villa.

Max and Lando exchanged glances, eager to explore the town. They thanked the driver before stepping out of the taxi, and their eyes widened in awe at the sight of their temporary abode. The grand villa stood just up ahead of them, its white walls gleaming in the golden light of the setting sun. The only barrier slightly obstructing their view were the large steel gates, shut to prevent any trespassers.

"Whoa!" Max exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

Lando nodded in agreement, already reaching for his phone to capture the moment. "This place is insane," he remarked, snapping a quick selfie, giving a cheesy smile while holding up his thumb with the villa in the background.

Max chuckled, watching as Lando posed for the photo. "Gonna send that to Carlos?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Lando nodded, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Yep, just to make him jealous," he replied, tapping away at his phone before sending the selfie to Carlos with a playful message: ‘You’re missing out!’

“Where’s he anyways?” Max asked but his gaze never left the sight in front of him.

Lando’s thumbs moved across the screen as he typed out another message, possibly replying to Carlos who always texted back within minutes.

Moments later, he turned the phone to show the screen to Max. Carlos had responded to Lando’s selfie with one of his own, showing off the view he was enjoying in the background. A pair of blue goggles covered his eyes and he held his thumb up in a playful manner as well. It was evident that he was standing on a yacht, surrounded by a form of nature in its entirety.

“Guess he’s not exactly missing out. When is he not on a boat?” Max asked jokingly.

Lando shrugged, “when he’s not cycling I guess.”

When he turned the screen back towards him, he noticed another text from Carlos. ‘Don’t break anything’

He scoffed, shaking his head before pocketing his phone, ignoring his message. He was mature enough to know that, even if a few broken trophies claimed otherwise.

The taxi drove off, leaving the men standing with their luggages in front of the gate. The breeze passed through Lando’s curls, causing him to turn around and squint his eyes to look up at the leaves on the trees swaying around. The setting sun pierced his eyes, but his gaze didn’t waver from it, a smile growing on his face since he already began liking the peaceful environment.

“Mate,” Max’s voice broke the silence. When Lando looked at him expectantly, he gestured towards the gates. “Are we just here to look at it from outside or do you know the code to get in?”

Lando’s eyes widened, “oh yeah, Carlos told me the code, hold on.” He fumbled for his phone, quickly locating the message from Carlos with the access code.

Before he could punch in the code, the sound of a car door slamming loudly took their attention away from the villa.

Max and Lando simultaneously spotted another home further down the street across from theirs, the only one apart from the villa for miles. It stood in stark contrast, a quaint cottage nestled amidst a grove of cherry blossom trees. It looked smaller, but they knew not to be fooled, knowing the cottage only appeared smaller since it was further away.

"Looks like we've got neighbors," Lando remarked, pointing towards the distant cottage.

“So much for silence,” Max mumbled.

As soon as Max’s words were spoken out loud, their attention shifted to the cause of the sound; you.

Unlike Lando and Max, your day hadn’t been going well. Actually, you don’t believe that you’ve experienced a single good day in the past couple years; not since the day you received your reports.

You remember that day vividly, the memories playing out in your mind like a horror movie. Despite many efforts from your close friends and family to cheer you up, you don’t believe that any smile you’ve given was genuine. Not a single one.

You shut your eyes tightly, but it only intensified the memories, causing you to find a way to shift your attention. Your gaze was attracted to the sun that was moments away from slipping underneath the horizon.

Contrasting to Lando’s thoughts from earlier, who smiled at the sunset because watching it cemented the fact that he was away from the chaos in cities and his world of racing, you thought of the guarantee that the sun will rise again tomorrow, one certainty you never had about yourself.

Once you slammed the car door shut, a surge of frustration and anger coursed through you, making your brother, Isaac, who was also getting out of the car, wince in discomfort. It was his car, after all, and you knew you shouldn't take your frustrations out on one of his most prized possessions, but the weight of your own mortality pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Another visit to the hospital had left you feeling drained and defeated, the latest round of test results delivering yet another blow to your already fragile health. The doctors' words echoed in your mind, their somber tones a stark reminder of the grim reality you faced.

You were angry – angry at the world for dealing you such a terrible fate, angry at your own body for betraying you, angry at the uncertainty that loomed over your future like a dark cloud. Would you live another day, another year, or was each moment you spent on this earth merely borrowed time?

Your hands trembled with a mixture of fear and frustration as you struggled to make sense of it all. You’ve been in this situation multiple times over the past couple years, wondering why the doctors always gave you a false sense of hope until the facts proved otherwise, but every time still felt like the first. Your illness was something you could never wrap your head around. The questions swirled in your mind, unanswered and unanswerable, leaving you feeling helpless and alone.

As you leaned against the car, your breath coming in ragged gasps, you felt a sense of despair wash over you. The world seemed cruel and indifferent, its vastness stretching out before you like an endless void.

Despite looking at the sun until it made your eyes water, or perhaps those were just your tears caused by your anger turning into sadness, your mind was still filled with all sorts of thoughts while your heart held various emotions.

The one thing that did divert your mind was the sound of rackety steel gates opening further down the street. Those gates hadn’t been open in about a year, making it in desperate need of oil on the hinges.

You remembered the family that visited very often once upon a time—the Sainz family—but those visits became less and less frequent as the years went by.

However, once you heard laughter echoing down the street, you couldn’t place a name to the sound. You squinted your eyes to focus on the scene since you had forgotten your glasses inside your home. Your eyesight was one of the first things that started deteriorating, making it hard to believe that you once had perfect vision.

You could make out the shape of two men, seemingly young and nowhere near a part of the family that owned the villa.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the villa, knowing it was time to spend a quiet night in. The sun had long gone beneath the horizon, turning the orange skies into hues of blue as you made your way towards your small cottage.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of stale coffee from the early morning hours before you rushed to the hospital. The unmistakable scent of antiseptics mixed with coffee, a reminder that your home was slowly becoming similar to the emergency rooms.

Your brother hovered nearby, his expression etched with concern as he watched you sink into a worn armchair. He had moved in once your health didn’t show any signs of improvement, taking on the older brother role even if he was a few years younger.

"Are you okay?" Isaac asked, his voice filled with worry.

You nodded, forcing a weak smile as you tried to push aside the weight of your own fears. "I'm fine," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

But deep down, you knew the truth. You were anything but fine. The uncertainty of your future loomed over you like a dark cloud, threatening to consume you whole.

“Do you need anything before I make dinner?” He stood in front of you, fidgeting with his hands.

The mention of dinner made you look up at him, shifting in the armchair as you prepared to stand up. His hands instantly shot out in case you stumbled over your feet.

“Let me help you make dinner,” you spoke, placing your hand on his shoulder to stabilize yourself.

He began shaking his head but your eyes pleaded with him.

“Please, I’m not completely useless yet,” You added, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to deny you since it was a trick you used when you were both younger.

He sighed, wanting to tell you that you weren’t useless at all, but it would open another can of worms. “Don’t push yourself too hard,” he settled instead.

You firmly nodded, and threaded your arm around his as he led you to the kitchen. He knew that he shouldn’t have let you help, especially after an appointment, but he also knew that if he left you alone, your thoughts would drown you.

All you needed was company, and he was more than willing to do anything to help you especially since he felt helpless otherwise.

The rhythmic chopping of vegetables filled the air as you and Isaac worked together in the kitchen. He hovered nearby, his presence a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your struggle.

"Need any help with that?" he asked, gesturing towards the cutting board where you were slicing tomatoes with unsteady hands.

You shook your head, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. "I've got it, thanks."

But he could see through your facade, his eyes filled with concern as he watched you work. "Are you sure? You seem a bit off today."

He had made it his responsibility to take you to your appointments, and he noticed that your mood deflated even more than the last visit.

You forced a smile, hoping to alleviate his worries. "I'm fine, just tired from the hospital visit."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press further. Instead, he moved closer, offering a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Well, let me know if you need anything. I'm here for you, okay?"

You nodded, grateful for his support. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

As you continued to cook together, the tension in the air eased, replaced by the familiar rhythm of sibling banter and shared laughter.

“Oh, did you see our new neighbours?” You asked once you sat down to eat.

Your brother nodded, a muffled sound leaving his mouth since he was in the midst of chewing.

Your face twisted in disgust, “ew, eat your food, don’t show it.” He playfully smacked your arm before swallowing and you had to hide the wince that almost overtook your expressions. You rubbed your arm once he was distracted, already knowing that it’ll bruise even if the smack was light.

“As I was saying,” he glared at you for a brief moment before continuing, “I noticed them coming in.”

“How long do you think they’re gonna stay?”

He added, making you shrug, “no idea, a couple weeks?”

Meanwhile, down the street, Max and Lando were immediately struck by the grandeur inside the villa. They had already explored the surroundings outside while the sun was setting, and were greeted by a scene of serene beauty and tranquility.

The sprawling grounds stretched out before them, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Lush greenery enveloped the landscape, with meticulously landscaped gardens and manicured lawns spreading out in all directions.

Tall palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, their fronds rustling softly as if whispering secrets to the wind. Vibrant bursts of color from exotic flowers and fragrant blossoms added splashes of brightness to the landscape, while the sweet scent of blooming jasmine and lavender hung in the air.

A cobblestone pathway wound its way through the gardens, meandering past secluded alcoves and hidden nooks waiting to be explored. Stone benches and wrought iron chairs provided inviting spots to sit and enjoy the beauty of nature, while the soothing sound of a trickling fountain added a sense of serenity to the atmosphere.

In the distance, the shimmering surface of a swimming pool caught the last rays of sunlight, beckoning with promises of cool refreshment on a warm summer's day. Beyond the pool, a charming gazebo nestled amidst a grove of trees offered a secluded retreat, its elegant structure inviting relaxation and contemplation.

Inside the villa, Max and Lando found themselves immersed in a world of luxury and refinement. Marble floors gleamed underfoot, their polished surfaces reflecting the soft glow of crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. The air was infused with the scent of subtle hints of vanilla and sandalwood, creating an atmosphere of opulence.

Plush furnishings adorned with rich fabrics and intricate patterns beckoned invitingly, promising comfort and relaxation. Oversized sofas and armchairs offered sumptuous seating, their cushions plump and inviting, while ornate coffee tables and sideboards showcased exquisite craftsmanship and timeless elegance.

Large windows framed breathtaking views of the surrounding countryside, their sheer curtains billowing gently in the breeze. Soft, ambient lighting cast warm pools of light in every corner, creating a sense of coziness and intimacy that enveloped the space.

Throughout the villa, works of art adorned the walls, adding a touch of sophistication and culture to the elegant surroundings. Paintings and sculptures, each one a masterpiece in its own right, spoke of a life of privilege and refinement, while delicate vases filled with fresh flowers added a touch of natural beauty to the lavish interiors.

In every room, from the grand foyer to the luxurious bedrooms and bathrooms, attention to detail was evident at every turn. From the intricate carvings on the furniture to the delicate lace trim on the curtains, no expense had been spared in creating a sanctuary of unparalleled beauty and comfort.

As Max and Lando explored the villa, they couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and awe at the sheer magnificence of their surroundings. For a moment, they forgot about the outside world, lost in the splendor of their temporary home and the promise of adventure that lay ahead.

While Max’s gaze wandered around in amazement, Lando nudged him with a mischievous smile of his own. “Told ya it’ll be worth it.”

He rolled his eyes but still agreed, “yeah I guess it is.”

Then, Max bursted into a sprint, running up the stairs while yelling loudly, “I get first pick!”

Lando shook his head, disagreeing immediately while chasing behind him. After all, they were two men who were kids at heart that were given a huge home all for themselves.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, filling the villa with a warm golden light that spilled through the windows and danced across the marble floors.

Lando had been awake for the past couple hours, his internal clock still set to his racing routine. He had woken up to the melody of birds chirping away and light filtering through the sheer curtains, basking for a moment in the change of scenery.

He had gone for a morning run, relishing the fresh air and serene beauty of the surroundings. On the way back, he picked up some pastries from a local bakery, their aroma enticing and warm.

Returning to the villa, Lando hummed a tune as he walked towards the kitchen. He paused for a moment, his eyes widening at the amount of natural light coming in through the big windows. The morning sun added a fresh, beautiful touch to the villa, reflecting off the furniture and transforming the space.

As he placed the pastries on the kitchen counter, Max emerged from his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, taking in the sight of the sun-drenched villa. “Morning, mate,” he greeted, his voice still laced with traces of sleep.

“Morning, Max,” Lando replied, holding back a chuckle at his messy morning hair.

He was lured by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, mingling with the scent of freshly baked pastries.

“Mm, smells amazing but where did these come from?” He asked before popping a pastry in his mouth. His eyes closed as it melted in his mouth, savouring the taste for a moment.

Lando grinned, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Glad you like them, I picked them up on my morning run,” he admitted.

Max raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You went for a run?” he asked, his tone filled with amusement.

Lando nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, figured I’d explore the area a bit and see what’s around,” he explained.

The first thing Lando did when he laid in bed last night was bring out his phone to search for things to do in this small town. Unfortunately, the internet wasn’t much help, so he decided to take a look around by himself, and perhaps even ask a few locals for advice.

Then he ducked his head and rubbed his palm on the nape of his neck, “and Jon told me to keep training while we’re here.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, thanks for bringing back breakfast,” he added, reaching for another pastry.

Lando picked up one for himself. “Yeah, no problem, but don’t expect it everyday,” he said with a cheeky smile. Max rolled his eyes, ignoring his comment as he sipped on his coffee.

“What are you planning on doing today?” Max asked after a moment of silence.

“I saw this market on my run earlier, and was thinking of going to go check it out,” he hummed, thinking back to the beautiful scenery during his short cardio session.

Max laughed, “look at you, living the small town life already.”

Lando reached over to smack the pastry out of Max’s hand that he was about to eat. “Hey!” He exclaimed, looking at the fallen treat.

There was a beat of silence, before Max and Lando made eye contact and then they bursted out into giggles. Amidst their laughter, Max reached down to pick up the fallen pastry, dusting it off before stuffing it in his mouth.

“Five-second rule, mate,” he muffled.

“What are you gonna do?” Lando asked, ignoring his best friend’s antics.

He simply shrugged, “I don’t know, mate.”

“Wanna join me?” Lando suggested, earning a nod from Max, a teasing smile growing on his face.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Lando rolled his eyes, “you don’t have to wait for me to ask.”

With their breakfast antics over, Lando and Max quickly finished their coffee before deciding to venture out into the town. As they stepped outside, the warm rays of the sun enveloped them, casting a golden glow over the quaint streets.

The scorching sun bore down upon them, turning the cobblestones into radiant paths of heat. Lando and Max, feeling the intensity of the sun’s rays, walked with beads of sweat forming on their brows.

Max shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand since he had misplaced his sunglasses.

Once they were a couple minutes into the walk, they realized that the market they planned to visit was further away than they initially thought. The narrow streets, lined with colourful houses and blooming flowers, stretched out before them, inviting them on a leisurely stroll.

“Why are we walking?” Max asked, still holding his hand up for a shade.

Lando raised his own sunglasses to the top of his head in disbelief, “why don’t you have your sunglasses?”

“Forgot ‘em at the villa,” he grumbled, which only made Lando laugh louder.

“Check your pockets, mate.”

Max’s eyes widened when he did in fact find his sunglasses in his pocket. He slid them onto his face with a sigh of relief, finally able to open his eyes properly.

Just as they began to feel the discomfort of the sweltering weather, a gentle breeze swept in from the nearby seaside, bringing with it a cool and invigorating relief. The breeze, infused with the scent of salt, tousled their hair and kissed their skin, providing a much needed respite from the heat.

After a few more minutes of walking, Max and Lando finally stumbled upon the market. It was nestled in a quaint square lined with vibrant stalls, each overflowing with a colourful array of fruits, vegetables, flowers, and artisanal crafts.

They wove their way through the crowded square, taking in the sights and the sounds of the market. The air was alive with the chatter of vendors and the laughter of shoppers, creating a lively atmosphere. The breeze was stronger as the market was closer to the seaside, blowing close to harsh wind in their faces, but it was welcomed due to the strong sun.

As they browsed the stalls, Max sampled a couple local delicacies first and Lando waited for his approval before trying them as well.

“Does it have fish?” Lando asked, hesitant in taking the sample from the vendor.

The vendor chuckled, “no, sir, it’s a dessert filled with cream, topped with hardened sugar.”

Lando’s mouth dropped open in understanding before taking the sample from him.

Max couldn’t resist picking up a few souvenirs to take home, like a proper tourist, while Lando struck up conversations with other locals, wanting to find out some details about the town.

As he held a couple bags of items he bought to remember this trip, Max’s eyes lit up when he spotted a bakery on the other side of the market.

“Hey, I’m going to check out the bakery over there,” Max pointed. “Grab a couple more treats,” he added.

Lando nodded, his attention drawn to a colourful display of ripe fruits nearby. “Sounds good, I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

The two friends parted ways, Max was enticed by the scent of warm pastries waiting for him while Lando’s mouth watered at the sight of juicy fruits. His trainer had wanted him to stay healthy throughout the break anyways, and this was the perfect opportunity.

He greeted the vendor and began eyeing the various fruits; plump oranges, crisp apples, perfectly ripe bananas, and more.

“Good morning! What can I get for you today?” The vendor asked, and Lando thought for a moment before replying.

“I’ll take some of those oranges, grapes, and oh some apples too, please.”

The vendor nodded and began putting the fruits into the paper bags, but paused once he bagged both the grapes and oranges. “Forget these apples, get these ones instead,” they said while showcasing another tray of apples that looked very similar.

“It’s our premium organic apples, the best ones of the bunch.”

Lando hesitated for a moment, but the vendor’s persuasive tone convinced him that it was a steal.

To persuade Lando even further, the vendor added, “these ones are special, organic, freshly picked this morning. I’ll give you a good deal, just five dollars for one.”

Lando blinked in surprise at the price, wondering if a single apple was genuinely five dollars, but then again he never had to do any grocery shopping on his own. Jon would usually bring it for him, or do all the work if they went together.

Then he reasoned that it must be a rare variety or exceptionally fresh. “Alright, sounds good, give me a couple.”

Lando happily handed over the money, and thanked the vendor once they passed over the bags. He paused for a moment once he returned to the main street, inhaling the breeze, feeling the tension of his usual everyday life slowly melt away.

He spotted Max, noticing that he held even more bags than when he previously saw him. As Lando and Max regrouped near the bakery, the latter raved about the variety of treats he bought. “Mate! I think I bought everything.”

They scanned the bustling market once more, wondering if they should take another look or return to the villa. Max’s gaze wandered towards the seaside, where tranquil waves lapped against the shore.

“Hey, isn’t that our neighbour from the villa? The one who lives in the cottage?” Max asked, gaining Lando’s attention.

He followed Max’s gaze and spotted you sitting alone on a bench gazing out at the sparkling sea. Recognition dawned on Lando’s face as he remembered you from yesterday. “Yeah, it is, should I go say hi?”

Max considered it for a moment, glancing back at the path towards the villa before turning to Lando with a shrug. “Sure, why not? I’ll head back to the villa; catch up later yeah?”

Lando nodded, grateful for Max’s understanding. “Are you sure you’ll be fine with carrying all that?” He asked jokingly, gesturing at the bags he held.

“Shut up,” he muttered, nudging him with his shoulder.

Lando walked off with a chuckle, “see ya.”

His laughter died down as he approached you, noticing that your gaze was still fixed on the horizon as if you were searching for answers in the endless expanse of the sea. Perhaps you were, and he felt slightly guilty for approaching you, especially since you were far away from the rest of the crowd.

However, before he could abort the idea, you glanced to the side, looking at him with confusion replacing your previous expressions.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, flashing a friendly smile as he stood there, pointing to the empty space next to you.

Your eyes clouded with a mixture of weariness and suspicion. "Suit yourself," you replied, your tone curt.

Undeterred by your guarded demeanor, Lando took a seat beside you, his curiosity piqued by the enigmatic stranger before him. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he ventured, attempting to break the ice.

You scoffed, a bitter edge creeping into your voice. "I suppose," you muttered, your gaze returning to the horizon.

Sensing the walls you had erected around yourself, Lando decided to tread carefully, unwilling to push too hard too soon. He placed the bag of fruits on the grass before extending his hand in greeting. "I'm Lando," he introduced himself.

You hesitated for a moment before reluctantly accepting his handshake and introduced yourself, offering a tentative smile that failed to reach your eyes.

He repeated your name, wanting to become familiar with the way the vowels wrapped around his lips because he had a feeling that he would be saying your name a lot more often now.

Despite the initial awkwardness, Lando found himself drawn to you, intrigued by the mystery that shrouded your presence. He wondered why you were sitting here alone when there was a crowded market not too far away from here, but he didn’t have the strength to ask just yet.

He leaned against the bench, sighing as he watched the horizon just like you were. However, it became difficult to choose if the seaside view was prettier or you. He didn’t want you to think he was a creep, so he stole some glances at you every couple of moments without you knowing.

As you sat in companionable silence, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore provided a soothing backdrop, preventing the situation from feeling awkward.

“How long have you lived in this town?” Lando asked, but the moment he did, he thought that it was too intrusive.

He waited, one beat, two beats, before you responded. “I’ve lived here my whole life,” you admitted.

A small smile threatened to grace your lips as you thought of the happier memories you’ve spent here, the ones before the news that turned you into a shell of the person you were once.

“This town has always been home to me,” you added.

Lando’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really? That’s amazing,” he exclaimed, genuine interest sparkling in his eyes. But then his brows furrowed, “have you never felt like leaving this place behind? Move somewhere in the city?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile, thinking of a response that wasn’t along the lines of I did want to leave. I had plans and dreams of studying abroad, living in the city, but fate had a different plan. Instead, you shrugged, “no, I’ve never thought about it before. I guess I like the community here, you know, everyone knows everyone.”

He chuckled, “that can’t be a good thing all the time though.”

You shook your head, “not always, news travels around pretty fast.” Feeling a tad bit intrigued by him, you asked, “so what made you come here?”

“The villa. It’s my friend’s family’s villa and he lent it out for a couple weeks,” he explained, causing you to widen your eyes. “Oh, so you’re my neighbour?”

He ducked his head and smiled sheepishly, “yeah, that’s, um, kind of why I approached you in the first place.”

As the conversation ebbed between you and Lando, a comfortable silence settled over the two of you, punctuated only by the rhythmic sounds of waves crashing against the shore.

After a while, Lando cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Hey, I was wondering… since you’re a local and all, would you mind showing me and a friend around town?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

When you didn’t answer right away, he continued explaining. “We’ve never been here before, and since we’re here for two weeks, I want to know every hidden gem and secret spot here, something less touristy.”

You could tell that he was beginning to become nervous, especially based on your expression which you assumed wasn’t kind. You forced a smile on your face, instinctively grazing his knee with your palm that wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down.

“Yeah, I’ll show you guys around,” you responded, and the warmth of your tone sent a ripple of excitement through Lando.

His smile widened, “thank you! I went by the market today but I feel like I should have someone giving me a little bit more direction on what to do here.”

“Oh you went to the market? Buy anything?” You asked, wanting to keep the conversation flowing as well, especially since you liked hearing him speak.

Lando gestured to the paper bag resting on the floor, “I got a couple fruits. Max, my friend, stocked up on the pastries from the bakery there. He already fell in love with them.”

You didn’t stop the smile growing on your face. “I totally get that, anything from that bakery is to die for.”

But then you glanced at the bag he held, and watching your gaze, he elaborated. “I got these organic apples, the vendor said they were giving me a pretty good deal, five dollars each.”

Your jaw dropped, “five dollars each? You totally got scammed.”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Scammed? What do you mean?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“No one sells a single apple for $5, Lando, no matter how ‘organic’ they tell you it is,” you explain, but based on his expression, he still didn’t understand why.

Although his eyes did widen as he examined the contents. Now that he thought about it, the prices on the fruit seemed exorbitant, far beyond what he thought Jon paid.

“Everyone in this town bargains, especially in the market,” you added, and he frowned.

“I don’t need to bargain.”

You shook your head. “I’m sure you’re rich enough, but the point is that every vendor marks up the price because they know the locals bargain. The public is happy because they bargained, and the vendor is satisfied because the products still sell at a good price.”

He nodded in understanding, “oh, that’s weird, usually you just pay the price on the tag.”

“Well that’s the thing, there aren’t any tags, the vendors just set the prices, and they also mark it up if they know that you’re a tourist.”

His jaw dropped in surprise, “what? That’s not fair.”

“And that is why you need to know your way around here,” you added, earning a smile from him.

“That’s why you’re my tour guide.”

You looked at the horizon as his gaze felt too intense in that moment. He still looked at you, a soft smile on his face mixed with lingering curiosity about you and this town that seemed to draw him in instantly.

Just then, a familiar voice called out from behind you. “Hey, I’m all done, let’s go back home now?”

You turned to see Isaac standing with his hands full of produce he bought for dinner, but a curious expression on his face as he noticed Lando next to you.

“Um, yeah, did you get everything?” You ask as you stand up, and your brother immediately holds out his arm so you can loop your own with his.

“Yes ma’am, I bought everything on the list,” he said playfully.

Before he could lead you away, you patted his arm and glanced at Lando, “oh, this is Lando, our neighbour, at the villa.”

Your brother’s eyes flickered with recognition as he glanced at Lando. “Ah, yes, nice to meet you, I’m Isaac.”

The corner of Lando’s lip turned up briefly, before he nodded, “same here.”

The afternoon sun was shining, yet it was cooler than earlier, making the journey back towards your street easier. The market had an influx of visitors since many preferred to stay at home when the morning heat was ablaze.

Since the three of you were headed in the same direction, you decided to walk together. You walked side by side with your brother, your arm still looped with his. Lando had taken the liberty to carry a couple bags that Isaac held.

Lando walked a couple steps ahead, as if he was the local and you were the tourist. You didn’t mind it though, because his gaze confused you. Every time he looked at you, he was either close to figuring out your secrets or he was just blissfully unaware.

He was still a stranger, and you had no plans on telling him anything more than you had to.

As you walked, the lively chatter of the market gradually faded into the background, replaced by the soothing sounds of the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

Despite the tranquility of the moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of your mind. Lando’s presence just a couple steps in front of you felt both comforting and disconcerting, his easy demeanour belaying the mystery that seemed to arise at times.

You thought back to your conversation at the bench, not finding anything concerning about the questions he asked or the responses to yours, but you couldn’t help but still feel on edge. Perhaps you wanted to trust him, but your mind didn’t allow it as easily as your heart willed you to.

Isaac couldn’t resist teasing you, nudging your side with his elbow and tilting his head towards Lando.

“So what’s the deal with you and the new neighbour, huh?” he whispered, keeping his voice down to prevent Lando from hearing him.

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at his arm. “Oh, please. There’s no deal, we just met today.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Uh-huh, sure. But I think you’ll be seeing him a lot more often now, don’t you think so?”

You nodded, “well he does live nearby, and he wants me to be a tour guide for him and his friend, Max, for the time they’re here.”

He chuckled, his grin widening. “That’s very convenient. But I think you’ve got an admirer.”

You scoffed, trying to brush off his teasing. “Don’t be ridiculous, he’s just being friendly.”

“Keep telling yourself that, we’ll see what happens in the next couple of days,” he stated as he draped an arm around your shoulder which only lasted a couple seconds before you pushed him away.

Since he wasn’t satisfied with just teasing you, he joined Lando’s side, instantly striking up a conversation. “So, Lando, enjoying your stay in our little town so far?”

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Definitely, it’s been a refreshing change of scenery.”

They continued on, speaking as if they knew each other for years.

As you neared the cottage, Lando handed Isaac the paper bags and bid you farewell. “Thanks for the company today, I’ll see you guys around.”

With a nod and a wave, you and Isaac made your way inside, leaving the events of the day behind you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your shared abode.

—

As the late morning sun filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your sleep, greeted by the familiar routine that marks the start of another day. The soft chirping of birds and faint chatter outside your window served as your alarm, nudging you gently into wakefulness.

You slid out of bed and padded over to the window, drawing back the curtains to reveal the tranquil scene outside. The small seaside town unfolded before you, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. It was a picturesque sight, one that you've grown accustomed to over the years.

With a sigh, you turned away from the window and began your morning routine. It's a well-worn pattern by now – first, you head to the bathroom to wash up and brush your teeth, the sound of running water a familiar soundtrack to your mornings.

Next comes the more clinical aspect of your routine. You reached for the small plastic organizer on the bathroom counter, filled with an assortment of medications neatly arranged in separate compartments. Your brother's voice echoed in your mind as you recalled his daily reminder to take your pills – a routine that has become as routine as brushing your teeth.

You dutifully pop each pill into your mouth, washing them down with a gulp of water. It's a mundane task, but one that is essential to your well-being. You've grown accustomed to the bitter taste of the medication, the lingering reminder of your illness that you can't escape.

Once the pills are swallowed, you move on to the next item on your checklist. Your brother's voice drifts in from the hallway, asking if you've taken your medication yet. You respond with a simple "yes," the words slipping easily from your lips.

As you go about your morning routine, there's a sense of detachment that settles over you – a feeling of going through the motions without really being present. It's a coping mechanism, a way to distance yourself from the reality of your illness and the uncertainty that comes with it.

But despite the clinical nature of your routine, there's a quiet determination that drives you forward. Each pill swallowed, each task completed is a small victory in the ongoing battle against your illness, however it’s a battle that you’re not sure if you’ll win or not.

You finish your morning routine and join Isaac in the kitchen, where he’s already preparing breakfast. He glances up at you as you enter, a warm smile on his face.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he greets you, handing you a mug of steaming coffee, your one and only cup a day according to doctor’s orders.

Still lost in your thoughts, you burn your tongue as you take the first sip. Isaac eyes you carefully, a hint of concern in his gaze as you grab an ice cube and stick it in your mouth.

“You doing okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

You force a smile, hoping to reassure him. Pushing the ice cube towards your cheek, you speak, “yeah, just another day.”

“Just another day? Don’t you have to show Lando and Max around?” He asks, but quickly shifts his gaze to the egg on the pan.

You nod, grateful for the distraction from your thoughts. "Yeah, I do. I almost forgot," you reply, mentally shaking off the lingering unease that had gripped you earlier.

Isaac watches you closely, his concern evident in his furrowed brow. "Are you sure you're up for it?" he asks, his tone gentle.

You give him a reassuring smile, trying to push aside the gnawing doubts that linger at the back of your mind.

"I'll be fine," you insist, though the words sound hollow even to your own ears. “I’m thinking of showing them around some of the touristy spots first to get it out of the way, and then some historical sites if they’re up for it,” you explain, making a mental checklist.

He nods, accepting your answer for now. "Just take it easy, okay? And call me if you need anything," he says, reaching out to squeeze your hand.

You squeeze his hand back, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Isaac," you murmur, feeling a sense of warmth wash over you in his presence.

Together, you and Isaac finish your breakfast in companionable silence, the weight of the upcoming day lingering in the air. But there was a hint of excitement brewing in your mind once you were reminded of your neighbours, and perhaps it’ll distract you from your usual thoughts.

Meanwhile, Lando dashed around his room, wearing only a pair of pants, his movements quick and purposeful as he rummaged through his suitcase, searching for the perfect shirt for the day ahead. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, his brow furrowing in frustration as he realized how quickly time was slipping away.

"Max, are you almost ready?" he called out, his voice tinged with urgency.

From the living room, Max's relaxed voice drifted back. "Yeah, just taking my time. No rush, right?"

Lando rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he continued his frantic search for the right outfit. He held up a full sleeved sweatshirt against himself, judging the shirt in the mirror.

“No, too hot,” he muttered to himself and tossed the garment aside. He continued shuffling through the suitcase, not having the time to unpack completely.

Then he held up a simpler t-shirt, considering it for a moment before shaking his head. “Too casual,” he mumbled, discarding it onto the growing pile of rejected clothes.

With a sense of growing frustration, Lando finally spotted a light, airy button-down shirt that seemed suitable for the warm weather. He quickly slipped it on, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as the fabric settled comfortably against his skin.

Satisfied with his choice, Lando turns his attention to his hair, running his fingers through his unruly curls in an attempt to tame them into some semblance of order. After a few futile attempts, he huffed and searched around for his beloved bucket hat, placing it on his head to prevent putting more effort into his hair.

Glancing at himself in the mirror, he straightened his shirt and adjusted his hat. As a final touch, Lando grabbed his sunglasses and hastily shoved them in his pocket, then grabbed his phone and wallet before heading out of the room.

As he entered the living room, Lando found Max lounging on the couch, seemingly unperturbed by the passing time. "C'mon, mate, we're gonna be late because of you," Lando chided, his tone laced with exasperation.

Max shrugged nonchalantly, a lazy grin playing across his lips. "She didn't give you a time."

Lando resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his frustration mounting with each passing second. "I know, but she's taking time out of her day to show us around. We need to be respectful."

Max chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow as he regarded Lando with amusement. "You asked her to show us around, you didn't need to."

Lando sighed, his patience wearing thin. "She's a local, Max. It's important to make a good impression."

Max's grin widened, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Is that all what she is?"

Soon enough, Max decided to spare his best friend from further frustration and went upstairs to get dressed.

While he did so, Lando thought about Max’s question, which he left unanswered. You were a mere stranger, yet after meeting you yesterday, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Lando instantly sat up after a moment, looking around the room and spotting his digital camera sitting on the table nearby. He picked it up by the straps of the bag, wanting to take as many photos of the events of today as he could.

The sound of footsteps echoed from upstairs, and soon Max reappeared, clad in a fresh set of clothes. He flashed a grin before taking his phone back from Lando.

“Finally ready?” Lando teased, looking up at him.

Max rolled his eyes, “yes.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair before asking, “what’s the plan for today?”

Lando shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “that’s for our lovely tour guide to decide.”

With a nod of agreement, Lando walked beside Max as they left the villa together.

Their footsteps crunched echoed softly against the cobblestone path. The afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the landscape, illuminating the streets as it was at the highest peak. As they made their way down the path, they spotted you stepping out of the cottage, a faint smile on your face as you headed towards them.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Max remarked, nudging Lando with his elbow.

Lando grinned in return, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Hi,” he muttered as you stood in front of him.

You were quickly introduced to Max, and exchanged greetings before leading the way down the street.

“So, where are we off to today?” Max asked, his gaze looking around before returning back to you.

“Well, I thought we could start with a stroll through the town square,” you suggested, gesturing towards the many narrow streets. “Then, I’ll show you around a couple historic spots?” You asked, pausing and looking at them for a reaction.

Lando nodded in agreement, “sounds like a plan, lead the way, tour guide.”

With a playful grin, you set off towards the heart of the town, Lando and Max falling into step beside you.

As you lead Lando and Max through the winding streets of the town, each building you pass enveloped you in a sense of nostalgia. Each cobblestone path seemed to hold a story, whispered through the intricate architecture and vibrant colours of houses.

“You see that old bookstore over there?” you pointed, a smile playing on your lips. “It’s been here for generations, and they have the most fascinating collection of rare books.”

Lando’s eyes sparkled with intrigue as he glanced at the bookstore. “I’ll have to check it out then,” he stated.

“Avid reader?” You asked, walking side by side.

He shook his head, “not at all, but there has to be something fascinating if you like it.”

You chuckled at his response, focusing your gaze ahead as you felt your cheeks redden. “Well, I worked there as a teen, and from my experience, it’s always worth exploring.”

Lando nodded in agreement, his gaze lingering on the bookstore as you passed by it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Max fell a couple of steps behind as he watched the interaction between you and Lando. Then he quickly caught up to his best friend, nudging him gently to gain his attention. “You know I’m here too, right?”

Lando rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah, I know.”

As you led the way through the bustling crowd, Lando and Max trailed behind you, keeping close to ensure they didn’t lose sight of you amidst the throng of people. Along the winding streets, you were greeted by familiar faces, the locals calling out your name and exchanging warm greetings as you passed by.

Lando eagerly captured every picturesque moment with his camera. Occasionally, he would lower the camera to observe you as you engaged in conversations with strangers, raising the camera to his eye once more to capture candid moments of your interactions with them.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, you pointed out hidden gems nestled in the nooks and crannies of the town. From cozy art galleries adorned with vibrant paintings to antique shops filled with treasures of bygone eras, each discovery added to the tapestry of the town’s charm.

With each step, you shared tidbits of local history and anecdotes, painting a vivid picture of life in the town. Lando and Max listened attentively, their eyes alight with curiosity as they soaked in the sights and sounds of the vibrant community.

Walking down the narrow streets, you pointed out the historic clock tower and the old, abandoned church beside it. You mentioned that it was the oldest structure in town and pushed open the wooden doors.

Max looked around, intrigued. The interior had a musty scent mixed with faint incense, and sunlight streamed through stained glass, casting colorful patterns. He admired the architecture, understanding why it was cherished.

As you explored, you shared the tower’s history, noting its construction by skilled craftsmen from distant towns. The vaulted ceilings and stone pillars added to the sense of reverence. You paused, letting Max and Lando roam.

They were captivated by the church’s history and beauty, momentarily forgetting the outside world. Emerging into the sunlight, they exchanged awed glances, touched by the experience. It was a moment they would remember.

“So, what’s next on the agenda?” Lando asked, glancing down at his camera and scrolling through the photos before looking up at you.

You grinned, “well there’s a garden not too far from here. It’s the perfect place to unwind and enjoy the beauty of nature.”

Max’s eyes lit up with excitement, “yes, please, that sounds amazing.”

With a laugh, you led them along winding pathways lined with vibrant blooms leading towards the tranquil garden.

Max let out a contented sigh, “this place is amazing.”

You smiled, gesturing towards a cluster of vibrant flowers. “There’s something magical about it.”

Lando nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning the picturesque surroundings. “Definitely worth the visit,” he remarked, raising his camera to capture the beauty around him.

The tranquility of the garden seemed to envelop you, wrapping you in a sense of peace and serenity. Tall trees cast dappled shadows across the well-tended lawns, providing relief from the midday sun. The air was alive with the melodious chirping of birds and the occasional buzz of bees flitting from blossom to blossom.

The garden was a lush oasis, meticulously landscaped with winding pathways that meandered among vibrant flower beds and verdant shrubbery.

Max glanced at the pond, where a family of ducks paddled lazily. "Hey, check out those ducks," he exclaimed, pointing towards the water. "They look so peaceful."

You chuckled, nodding towards a nearby bench. "Let's take a seat and enjoy the view," you suggested.

As you sat on the stone bench, a sense of calm washed over you, the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds creating a soothing melody. Max and Lando joined you, their expressions reflecting a similar sense of contentment.

Water lilies floated gracefully on top of the clear waters, their delicate blooms adding a touch of elegance to the scene.

"This is nice," Max remarked, leaning back against the bench. "Thanks for bringing us here."

Lando nodded, his gaze drifting across the garden. "Yeah, it's a hidden gem," he agreed. "I never would've found it on my own."

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at sharing this special place with your neighbours. "I'm glad you both like it," you said warmly. "There's so much beauty to discover in this town if you know where to look."

As Lando admired the blooming flowers around him, his eyes settled on a particularly vibrant flower. With a grin, he plucked it from its stem, carefully holding it between his fingers.

"Hey, can I?" he asked, gesturing towards your hair with a playful twinkle in his eye.

You chuckled, nodding in amusement. "Sure, go ahead," you replied, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.

Lando leaned towards you with a grin, gently tucking the flower behind your ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers brushing against your skin as he adjusted the placement of the bloom.

"There," he said with satisfaction, leaning back to admire his handiwork. "Looks perfect."

You couldn't help but smile at the gesture, feeling a warmth spread through you at the simple yet thoughtful gesture. "Thank you," you said softly, meeting Lando's gaze with appreciation.

You picked out another flower, holding it in front of him with a small smile. “My turn?”

Lando chuckled, leaning forward and allowing you to place the flower behind his ear. His gaze remained steady on your face, watching as you stuck the tip of your tongue out between your lips in concentration.

Leaning back, you looked at him with a smile. “There, now we match.”

“I see how it is,” Max grumbled from beside you, earning a chuckle from you and Lando.

Simultaneously, you and Lando picked out a couple of flowers, and placed them in his hair, his curls holding it steady.

“Cute,” you commented once you completed the masterpiece with the last flower. Max laughed as he looked at himself in his phone camera, snapping a selfie for memories before telling you and Lando to join.

Your face was squished between Lando and Max’s faces, both men displaying a cheesy grin for the photo, making you join in as well.

As the gentle breeze ruffled through the garden, Lando turned towards you with a curious glint in his eyes. “Are there any other magical places you want to show us?”

You pondered for a moment, considering the myriad of hidden gems scattered throughout the town. “Well, there’s one more spot I have in mind,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Max perked up at the mention of another adventure, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I’m in, lead the way.”

With a nod, you rose from the bench, the flower in your hair swaying gently with the movement. “Let’s go,” you said, gesturing for Max and Lando to join you as you embarked on the next part of your journey.

As you led Max and Lando out of the garden, the thought of another special place lingered in your mind. The lighthouse, with its storied history and breathtaking views, beckoned to you like a beacon in the distance.

Lost in thought, you considered whether to reveal this cherished spot to your neighbours. The lighthouse held a special significance for you, a place of solace and reflection that you rarely shared with others. But something about Max and Lando’s genuine curiosity and enthusiasm stirred something within you, prompting you to entertain the idea of introducing them to this hidden gem.

With a flicker of determination, you made up your mind. The lighthouse would be the perfect finale to your tour, a fitting conclusion to a day filled with discovery and adventure.

As you neared the lighthouse, it stood tall against the sky, looking sturdy and ancient. Lando seemed really excited, his eyes wide as he took it all in. Max looked a bit unsure, especially when he saw the stairs leading up.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” you said softly once you saw Lando’s expression, feeling a sense of awe yourself.

He nodded eagerly, clearly impressed. “Yeah, it’s really cool,” he said, his voice filled with excitement.

“Are we going up there?” Max asked, a hint of apprehension creeping into his voice as he surveyed the towering structure.

You nodded, a sense of reverence washing over you as you gazed up at the weathered bricks and the solitary lateen perched at the top of the lighthouse. “Yes, it’s probably my favourite spot in this entire town.”

But Max seemed hesitant, eyeing the stairs with doubt. “I’m not too sure about this,” he admitted quietly.

You understood his feelings and wanted to reassure him. “That’s okay, Max,” you said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t have to climb all the way up if you don’t want to. We can still explore around here.”

Max glanced at Lando, “actually you know what? you guys should go up.” Max said suddenly, giving you a nod, “I’ll stay down here.”

You frowned, “are you sure? I can show you around elsewhere.”

But Max shook his head, “yeah, I’m sure. I know Lando really wants to check it out and I don’t wanna hold you guys back.”

“You’re gonna miss out, mate, just c’mon it’s a couple stairs,” Lando tried to convince his best friend.

He shook his head, “a couple? Looks like a lot, no, I’m good.”

With a final nod of reassurance, you and Lando headed towards the first couple of stairs, leaving Max behind. As you began the trek upwards, your comment from earlier intrigued Lando. “Why is this your favourite spot?”

“People don’t come here often, perhaps it’s because of the story behind it,” you replied, your words tinged with a hint of mystery.

“What, is it haunted or something?” He asked, a skeptical look crossing his face.

You shook your head, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “Legend says that this lighthouse is haunted, but I believe it’s just a tragic love story,” you explained.

“A love story? Do tell,” Lando urged, his curiosity piqued.

“It was decades ago, the story passed on from neighbour to neighbour, so I’m not exactly sure which parts are true,” you forewarned.

Lando smiled, “and you’re passing it on to your neighbour.”

You glanced back at him, pausing for a moment so he could catch up, standing on the same step as you, just a tad bit taller. You didn’t realize how narrow the staircase was until he was standing beside you, since you’ve only ever come here alone.

The air was heavy with the scent of salt and sea, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore echoed faintly in the distance. Lando's eyes scanned your face, patiently waiting to hear the story.

You cleared your throat, looking away from him. "You see, there was once a young couple who sought refuge in this lighthouse," you began, your voice tinged with a hint of melancholy, recounting an old tale. "They were not from noble families or romance novels, but rather ordinary people with ordinary lives."

Lando leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued by the hint of mystery in your voice, causing you to shift on your feet but still remaining in the same spot, almost pressed against the wall beside you.

"The young man was a fisherman, his days spent toiling away on the sea, his hands calloused from years of hard work," you continued, your words painting a picture of a life marked by struggle and perseverance. "And the young woman was a seamstress, her fingers nimble with the needle and thread, her dreams tempered by the harsh realities of life."

Lando's gaze softened with empathy as he imagined the challenges faced by the young couple.

"But despite the hardships they endured, their love burned fiercely, a flame that refused to be extinguished by the storms of life," you said, your voice tinged with admiration for the resilience of the human spirit. "They would steal moments together in the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, finding solace in each other's arms amidst the chaos of the world."

Lando's heart swelled with warmth at the thought of such a simple yet profound love. You cleared your throat once you saw a hint of his smile, turning away and continuing your trek up the stairs while continuing the story.

"But their happiness was fleeting, as life has a way of testing even the strongest of bonds," you continued, your voice growing somber as you recounted the challenges faced by the young couple. "Their days were filled with hardship and uncertainty, their dreams overshadowed by the harsh realities of poverty."

Lando followed after you, his breath caught in his throat as he listened, his heart heavy with the weight of the young couple's struggles.

"And so, when tragedy struck and the young man was lost at sea, the young woman was left alone to face the cruel hand of fate," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of the wind howling through the lighthouse. "Her grief was a burden too heavy to bear, her tears a testament to the depth of her sorrow."

Tears welled in Lando's eyes as he imagined the young woman's pain.

"And though the years passed and the world moved on, the lighthouse remained standing as a silent witness to the love that once flourished within its walls," you concluded, your voice tinged with a sense of reverence for the enduring legacy of the young couple. "Their spirits may have faded into the mists of time, but their love lives on in the whispers of the wind and the crashing of the waves, a reminder that even in the darkest of nights, love can be a guiding light."

Lando remained silent, his heart heavy with the weight of the young couple's story, as he pondered the fragile nature of love and the enduring power of human resilience in the face of adversity.

“You’re not making this up, are you?” He asked, just to be sure, but once he didn’t see you burst out laughing, he knew the answer.

"Legend has it that their spirits linger within these walls, bound by an eternal love that transcends the confines of time," you explained. "They say the light still flickers on stormy nights, a beacon of hope in the darkness, as if she's searching for her lost love amidst the crashing waves."

As you and Lando continued climbing the spiral staircase, the wooden steps creaked beneath your feet, each groan echoing through the hollow chamber like a whispered secret. The air grew cooler as you ascended, a faint scent of salt lingering in the air, a reminder of the vast expanse of ocean that stretched out beyond the horizon.

With each step, the world outside faded away, replaced by the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the narrow windows, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow on the worn stone walls. Lando's footsteps fell in sync with yours, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of the swirling emotions that stirred within you.

As you reach the top of the lighthouse, a sense of awe washed over you, the panoramic view of the coastline stretching out before you like a painting come to life. The sea stretched out endlessly, its surface shimmering in the sunlight, while seagulls soared overhead, their cries mingling with the distant roar of the waves. It’s a sight you’ve seen many times, but every time still feels like the first.

Lando stood beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his expression a mixture of wonder and awe. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of the young couple's story hanging heavy in the air, a reminder of the fragile nature of love and the enduring power of human resilience.

As the light of the setting sun bathed the world in a warm golden glow, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you, a quiet acceptance of the mysteries that lay hidden within the depths of the human heart.

With a soft sigh, you turned to Lando, a small smile playing on your lips. "Isn't it beautiful?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando nodded, his eyes shining with a newfound appreciation for the simple beauty of the world around him. "It's breathtaking," he agreed, his voice tinged with emotion.

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting vibrant hues of orange and pink across the sky, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the breathtaking beauty of the sunset. The world seemed to slow down, the cares and worries of the day fading away as you stood transfixed by the natural spectacle unfolding before you.

But as the sky darkened and the first stars began to twinkle overhead, a pang of realization cut through the tranquil moment. It was almost nighttime, which meant it was time for your pills. You glanced at your watch, a flicker of anxiety fluttering in your chest as you calculated the minutes ticking away.

For a brief moment, you considered the consequences of being late in taking your medication. The regimen was strict, the consequences dire if you missed a dose. But as you looked at Lando standing beside you, gazing at you, his eyes reflecting the colors of the setting sun, a different thought crossed your mind.

Maybe, just this once, it was worth it to be a little late. Maybe, in this moment of shared beauty and connection, the rules could be bent just enough to allow you to savor the fleeting magic of the evening.

With a soft smile, you tucked the thought away, allowing yourself to linger a little while longer in the warm embrace of the sunset.

“Stay like that,” Lando instructed with a pointed finger at you.

“Like what?” You mumbled.

“Don’t move a muscle,” he hastily replied, holding the straps of the camera that was hung around his neck, quickly turning it on and pointing at you.

“You look beautiful in this light,” He stated, slightly gesturing to his camera before raising it.

A tint of blush covered your cheeks but you didn’t prevent him from taking a photo of you.

Remaining still, you heard the shutter click, once, twice, and even a third time before he was satisfied with the result.

“What are you going to do with those photos?” You ask, remembering that he’s taken quite a lot of them today, of all the different sceneries.

“Put 'em in an album, you know, for memories, and I can’t forget my favourite tour guide,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“Favourite? That’s quite a title for only the first day,” you teased with a smile, leaning against the railing, choosing to look at Lando instead of the setting sun.

“You know how to make a good impression, it’s hard not to call you my favourite.”

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I'm glad I could leave a good impression," you replied, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

Lando grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You've done more than that," he said, his voice softening. "You've shown us a side of this town that we never would've discovered on our own."

You felt a swell of pride at his words, grateful for the opportunity to share your hometown with new friends. "I'm just happy I could show you around," you said sincerely.

As the last rays of sunlight faded into darkness, you reluctantly tore your gaze away from Lando's, the moment of connection lingering in the air between you. "I suppose we should head back now," you said, a hint of regret coloring your voice.

Lando hesitated but nodded in agreement, “can’t keep Max waiting this long.”

But before you could move, he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you, for everything," he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his touch, a rush of warmth flooding through you at the intimate gesture. "You're welcome," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a lingering smile, Lando turned and started back towards the path, leaving you standing alone on the balcony, your thoughts swirling with a heady mix of emotions. Shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts, you followed him down the steps.

“Mate, it’s good that you didn’t come, she said it’s haunted.” You heard Lando’s voice, speaking to Max.

When you came into his view, Max looked at you with widened eyes, “haunted?”

You shrugged, looking at Lando, “it’ll make for a good bedtime story, don’t you think?”

Max started shaking his head, but Lando nodded, “I’ll be sure to tell him right before he gets a good night’s sleep.”

On the way back home, Lando had been so impressed by your touring skills that he had already started asking about your plans for the next day. With no responsibilities on your schedule, the three of you decided to go hiking on a nearby trail.

As you reached your cottage, the familiar sense of fatigue washed over you, dulling the edges of your excitement from the day’s activities. With a wave and a promise to meet again tomorrow for more adventures, you bid farewell to Lando and Max, watching as they walked off to the villa.

Once they were out of sight, you allowed your smile to fade, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders. The ache in your joints intensified, a reminder of the illness that lurked beneath the surface, threatening to consume you if you let your guard down.

Stepping inside the cottage, you were surprised to find Isaac waiting for you in the dimly lit living room. His expression was a mix of concern and mild frustration as he looked up from his book.

"You didn’t take your nightly pills on time," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You know you can’t skip it."

You sighed, the heaviness in your chest feeling almost unbearable. "Isaac, stop acting like our mother," you mumbled, moving past him to the kitchen.

Isaac followed you, not willing to let it go. "I’m serious. You’ve had a long day, and you need to take care of yourself. I don’t want you to overdo it."

Grabbing the bottle of medication from the counter, you turned to face him, irritation mingling with the fatigue in your eyes. "I know, okay? I just wanted one evening where I didn’t have to think about it. Just one."

He watched you with a mix of empathy and helplessness, understanding your need for normalcy but unable to ignore the reality of your condition. "I get it, I really do. But skipping your meds isn’t the way to do it."

With a heavy sigh, you filled a glass with water and downed the pills, the bitter taste lingering on your tongue. "Happy now?" you muttered, setting the empty glass down.

Isaac's expression softened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. "I’m just worried about you," he said quietly.

You nodded, the weight of his concern settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know. I appreciate it, really. It’s just… sometimes it’s hard to keep going like this."

He reached out and squeezed your shoulder gently. "We’ll get through it, together. Just promise me you’ll take it easy tomorrow, okay?"

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. "Go get some sleep. You’ve been waiting up for me."

Isaac gave you a small, reassuring smile before heading to his room. As you settled into bed, the weight of exhaustion dragging at your limbs, you couldn’t help but wonder how many more days like this lay ahead. The uncertainty of the future loomed large in your mind, casting a shadow over even the simplest moments of joy.

As you drifted off to sleep, your thoughts lingered on Lando and Max. Their arrival felt like a breath of fresh air, a chance to momentarily forget about your illness and embrace a semblance of normalcy. They didn’t know about your condition, which meant they wouldn't look at you with pity or treat you like a fragile doll. Their presence offered a respite from the constant reminders of your limitations, an opportunity to live in the moment and savor each day as it came.

For so long, your life had been governed by routines and restrictions, every decision weighed against the backdrop of your illness. But with Lando and Max, you felt a sense of freedom, an invitation to break away from the chains that bound you. They saw you not as someone fragile, but as a capable guide and a new friend. You wanted to hold onto that feeling, to let their presence remind you of who you were beyond the confines of your diagnosis.

Their energy and zest for life felt like a tonic; lifting your spirits and reigniting your desire to experience the world beyond your illness. With them, you could laugh freely, explore without fear, and simply be yourself without constantly worrying. Yet, there was a lingering guilt that gnawed at you, a silent whisper that you were using them, exploiting their company to escape your reality.

Despite the joy they brought, this guilt cast a shadow over your newfound happiness. You didn’t want to deceive them or yourself, but the allure of living fully and freely, even for a short while, was too tempting to resist. You resolved to make the most of their visit, using their company as an excuse to live as vibrant as you once did.

—

The next morning, you moved with practiced stealth, careful not to make a sound as you gathered your hiking gear. The house was still and quiet, the early hour providing a perfect cover for your escape. You knew your brother would disapprove of your plans to go hiking with Lando, so you hoped to slip out before he noticed.

Just as you reached the front door, the sound of footsteps halted your progress. Turning, you saw Isaac standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder, clearly ready to head out himself. His eyes narrowed as he took in your gear.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Isaac’s voice was tight with concern.

You sighed, knowing this confrontation was inevitable. “I’m going hiking with Lando. It’s just a short trail, nothing too strenuous.”

Isaac’s expression darkened. “Didn’t I tell you to take it easy? When are you going to take care of yourself?”

“What more do you want me to do?” you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. “Should I wrap myself up in bubble wrap and stay in bed until I inevitably die?”

“Don’t say that,” Isaac’s voice wavered, his concern morphing into something deeper and more painful.

“I have to!” you shouted, the dam of pent-up emotions finally breaking. “I have to acknowledge it, to you, to our parents, because while you guys are doing everything in your power to ignore it, it’s still gonna happen whether you like it or not.”

He took a step back, his face pale. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m going to die anyways,” you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. “Whether it’s tomorrow or a couple of weeks later, I’ve accepted that by now. You know why? Because even if I’m alive right now, I’m treated like a fucking corpse. I cannot do a single thing without our mother’s voice in my mind. ‘Oh, don’t stand for too long, don’t walk for too long, take your meds, don’t let your heartbeat speed up, don’t eat this, don’t eat that.’ It’s fucking tiring. Forget her, I can’t even be an older sister anymore for you. For god’s sake, you make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for us. You’re acting as if I can’t lift a single spoon.”

Isaac’s eyes were filled with tears now, but you couldn’t stop. The words poured out, each one a release of years of pent-up frustration and pain. “The entire town knows, Isaac. Any time I go out, I see the pity in their eyes. You know who doesn’t know? Lando and Max. And I have no plans on telling them because they actually treat me like a healthy human, something you guys won’t ever do again.”

You didn’t wait for his response, not allowing him to speak. You walked out the door, letting it close behind you with a finality that echoed your determination.

When you reached, Lando was already waiting for you by the trailhead, leaning casually against a tree with his backpack at his feet. He waved when he saw you approaching, his smile faltering slightly as he noticed the tension in your posture and the slight frown on your face.

"Hey, there you are!" he called out, his voice bright. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."

"Sorry, I'm a bit late," you replied, forcing a smile.

Lando's brow furrowed with concern. "Everything okay?"

You waved it off, not wanting to delve into the argument with Isaac. "Yeah, just had a rough morning. Let's get going, shall we?"

He nodded, still seeming a bit unsure. "Alright, if you say so." He hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and fell into step beside you as you started down the trail.

“Max isn’t joining us today?” you asked as you started the hike.

Lando shrugged playfully. “Nah, he’s not really the hiking type.”

In truth, Lando thought back to the moment he convinced Max to do something else. He had wanted this time alone with you, to get to know you better without any distractions. The way your face lit up when you talked about your favorite places made him want to see more of that joy.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, he doesn't seem like the outdoorsy type. I guess we'll have to find something else to drag him into."

As you continued along the path, Lando’s closeness became even more evident. He would occasionally place his hand on your back to guide you over rough terrain or hold your hand to help you across a stream. Each touch was gentle yet charged with an energy that made your heart race.

The path wound through a dense forest, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of pine and the sound of birds chirping. As you walked, the tension from your argument with Isaac began to ease, the peaceful surroundings and Lando's infectious enthusiasm slowly lifting your spirits.

"Maybe we can convince him to join us on a beach day or something," Lando said, his thoughts lingering on how much he enjoyed these moments alone with you. "But honestly, I'm kinda glad it's just the two of us today. More time to get to know my favorite tour guide."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the compliment warming you from the inside. “Still your favorite tour guide, huh?”

He shrugged playfully. "The competition is tough, but you’re always coming out on top. Besides, I figured I needed some one-on-one time to really experience what this town has to offer."

As the trail began to climb, you focused on your breathing, matching your pace to Lando's. The conversation drifted to lighter topics, and you found yourself relaxing more with each step. The forest opened up to a meadow filled with wildflowers, the colors vivid and bright under the morning sun.

Lando knelt down to take a photo of a particularly vibrant patch of flowers. "This place is incredible. How do you know all these hidden spots?"

"I've lived here my whole life," you said, watching him as he adjusted the focus on his camera. "Spent a lot of time exploring."

"Must be nice," he said, standing up and looking around. "Having all this beauty right in your backyard."

"Yeah, it is," you replied, though your thoughts drifted back to the times you wanted to leave this place. "Sometimes you take it for granted until you share it with someone else."

Eventually, you reached a lookout point with a breathtaking view of the coastline along with the lighthouse you explored yesterday. The ocean stretched out endlessly, waves glittering in the sunlight. Lando pulled out his camera again, capturing the scene and a few candid shots of you taking in the view.

"This is amazing," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Thanks for bringing me here."

You smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment mixed with a pang of guilt. Lando didn’t know the real reason behind your determination to hike today, nor the weight you were trying to escape.

"You're welcome," you replied. "I'm glad you're here to share it with me."

As you stood there, side by side with Lando, your words said to Isaac still lingered in the back of your mind, wondering if you'd said the wrong thing. You knew that you had to take a stand for yourself, otherwise you’d be pressured into regret, but he’s also your brother and he’s always wanted the best for you. You pushed those thoughts down, determined to make the most of this day as if it was your last.

With Lando's enthusiasm and the beauty of the surroundings, you found it easier to forget, even if just for a little while, the shadow that always loomed over you.

"So, what's next on our adventure?" Lando asked, breaking the silence.

You laughed softly. "Let's just see where the trail takes us."

Once Lando was satisfied with the amount of photos he took, you began to descend the trail from the lookout point. The path became steeper causing you to walk carefully, trying to focus on your footing.

The trail wound through another section of dense forest with the ground covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves. You and Lando continued to chat, touching upon all sorts of topics.

Just as you were starting to relax, your foot caught on a hidden root and you found yourself losing balance. Panic surged through you as your ankle twisted painfully. Before you could hit the ground, Lando was there, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you upright. His grip was strong and steady, and you clung to him for a moment, trying to catch your breath and process the sudden burst of pain.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Lando asked, concern etched on his face as he steadied you.

You winced, trying to put weight on your ankle and finding it difficult. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Lando’s brows furrowed with worry. “Let’s sit down for a minute. Here, lean on me.”

He guided you to a nearby rock, helping you sit down gently. He knelt in front of you, examining your ankle with a careful touch. “Does it hurt a lot?”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from crying out. “Yeah, it does.”

Lando looked around, his face serious. “I think we should head back. I don’t want you to make it worse.”

You sighed, feeling a wave of frustration mixed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Lando. I didn’t mean to ruin our hike.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Your safety is more important than the hike. Besides, we can always come back another time.”

He helped you stand, supporting your weight as you gingerly tested your injured ankle. With his arm around your waist, you felt a mixture of gratitude and awkwardness, acutely aware of his closeness and the concern in his eyes.

As you slowly made your way back down the trail, Lando stayed close, his grip on you firm but gentle. His presence was comforting, and despite the pain, you felt a sense of connection with him that was hard to ignore.

Back at the trailhead, Lando leads you towards his car, surprising you. “When did you get a car?”

“Figured I’d rent one while I’m here, just so we don’t have to walk everywhere,” Lando shrugged as he explained.

He helped you into his car, making sure you were comfortable before getting in himself. He started the car, casting quick glances at you to ensure you were alright. The engine’s hum was a soothing background noise as he navigated the road back to town.

“You know,” he began, trying to lighten the mood, “I think this might be the first hike I’ve been on where we didn’t make it to the top.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating his effort to keep things light. “There’s a first for everything, I guess.”

He smiled, eyes focused on the road. “Yeah, and now we have an excuse to do it again. When you’re feeling better, of course.”

You leaned back, the pain in your ankle dulling slightly with the rest. “I appreciate that, Lando. And I promise, next time, no hidden roots.”

He laughed, a genuine sound that made you feel a bit better about the whole situation. “Deal.”

As you pulled into the town, Lando’s concern was still evident. “Do you want to go straight to the clinic, or should we stop by your place first?”

“Home is fine,” you replied. “I’ll just need some ice and rest.”

Lando nodded, driving directly to your house. He parked and quickly came around to help you out. With his support, you hobbled across the driveway to the front door, quickly finding your keys and entering.

Inside, you settled on the couch while Lando fetched some ice from the kitchen with your directions. He elevated your foot, resting it on a cushion before gently placing the ice pack on your ankle. “Keep this on for a while,” he instructed, earning a chuckle from you.

“Okay, Doctor Lando.” You winced slightly at the cold but knew it was necessary. “Thank you,” you muttered softly as he joined you on the couch.

“Hey, what are friends for?” He shot back.

You raised your eyebrows. “When did we become friends?” you asked teasingly.

Without a beat, he responded, “from the moment you told me I got scammed.”

You shook your head with a smile on your face. His genuine care and the connection you felt during the hike was undeniable. Despite the pain and the day’s mishap, you still enjoyed it all.

As you both sat there, the sun beginning to set outside, you felt a strange sense of peace. Maybe you couldn’t control everything about your condition, but you could control how you spent your time. Right now, with Lando by your side, you felt like you were making the most of it.

“How about we watch a movie?” Lando suggested, breaking the comfortable silence. “Something to take your mind off things.”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed.

As the movie started, you felt the tension of the day begin to fade, replaced by a warm sense of contentment. As the soft glow of the television cast a warm light across the room, you heard the front door creak open. You tensed slightly, knowing it was Isaac. The memory of your heated argument from earlier that morning returned to your mind like it was fresh, and you weren’t sure how he would react to finding Lando here.

Isaac stepped into the living room, his eyes flicking between you and Lando, and then down to your ankle propped up with an ice pack. His brows furrowed in surprise, and his look spoke volumes — a silent “I told you so” about taking it too far.

“Hey,” Isaac said, his tone carefully neutral as he addressed Lando. “What’s going on here?”

“Hey,” Lando responded, sensing the tension but keeping his tone friendly. “We went hiking, and she twisted her ankle.”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of concern and frustration flashing across his face. “I see.”

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the need to explain but also not wanting to escalate the situation. “It’s just a sprain, Isaac. Lando’s been helping me out.”

Isaac nodded curtly, his gaze softening slightly but still clearly worried. “Thanks, mate,” he addressed Lando.

He started towards the kitchen, clearly not wanting to prolong the conversation but not ignoring your presence either.

You watched him go, feeling a mix of relief and lingering tension. The argument had left a mark, but you could see that he was making an effort to understand your perspective, even if he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Lando glanced at you, sensing the undercurrent of emotion. “You and your brother… everything okay?”

You sighed softly, not wanting to burden him with the details. “We had a disagreement earlier. It’s complicated.”

He nodded, not pushing further but offering a supportive presence. “Well, I’m here if you need anything.”

Isaac reappeared a few minutes later with a glass of water, which he handed to you without a word. You took it with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He simply nodded again and headed to his room, leaving you and Lando alone in the living room. Despite the brief interaction, you felt a subtle shift in Isaac’s demeanor. He was trying, in his own way, to respect your wishes and not overdo his concern for your illness.

As the movie continued, you found yourself relaxing again, the earlier tension easing away. Lando’s easygoing nature and the quiet understanding from your brother provided a much-needed sense of balance.

The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself growing more comfortable and drowsy, especially with Lando’s warm presence beside you. Earlier, you had mentioned feeling cold, due to the ice, and he had fetched a blanket, draping it over both of you. As you nestled into the couch, the combination of the movie’s soft soundtrack and Lando’s steady breathing lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

Lando noticed when your head gently rested against his shoulder, your breathing deep and even. He smiled softly, careful not to move and disturb you. As the credits began to roll, he glanced at his watch and realized it was getting late. Reluctantly, he decided it was time to leave.

He gently shifted, trying to move without waking you. Before he got up, he couldn’t resist the urge to lean in and press a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment. It was an instinctive gesture, filled with affection that he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

Carefully, he adjusted the blanket to ensure you were snug and warm. He stood up quietly, casting one last fond look at you before making his way to the door. Lando left silently, closing the door with a soft click, leaving you to your dreams.

An hour later, Isaac retreated from his bedroom, finding you fast asleep on the couch. Instead of waking you, he went to the kitchen and fetched your evening medicine and a glass of water. Returning to the living room, he placed them gently on the table beside the couch, ensuring they’d be the first things you saw when you woke up.

Isaac stood there for a moment, watching you sleep peacefully. Despite the argument earlier, he understood your desire to live fully, even if it scared him. With a sigh, he retreated back to his room, hoping that you’d find a balance between living your life and taking care of yourself. The quiet house seemed to settle around your sleeping form, a brief moment of peace amidst the whirlwind of emotions and challenges.

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cutielando · 2 days

Text

the curse of monaco

Synopsis: Charles finally breaks the curse of the track that has haunted him his entire life.

Words: 1.4k+

Other works: my masterlist

a/n: this is probably the fastest i've ever written something, so i'm sorry if it sucks a little lol

♡♡♡♡♡

There was nothing like racing through the streets you grew up in, Charles would always say to you.

In all the years you had known him and been with him, he had only had one goal: winning the Monaco Grand Prix.

You didn’t know why that was, whether it was a tribute to his late father, a tribute to Jules or just the pride of knowing he conquered the streets he had walked his entire life. Maybe it was a combination of all 3.

Charles had not been treated well by his home race the past couple of years. 2 DNFs, 1 DNS and 2 disappointing results had plagued his mind, making the weeks leading up to the race filled with more stress than he should carry.

But you had a good feeling this time. Ever since he got into the car in FP1, then topping the charts all throughout FP2 and FP3, you felt something in your gut change. For once, after so many doubtful years, there was no worry and disappointment in your heart as you waited in the garage for the qualifying session of the weekend. Every negative feeling was replaced with hope, so much hope that you didn’t know what to do with it.

Charles was the complete opposite. While he couldn’t deny that the car had finally come alive and he had the pace he needed, he felt like he couldn’t let himself hope too much, not after everything he’d been through.

“Come on, you know I’m right. You’ll be on pole and you’ll win the race” you said to him as you lounged in his driver room, watching him get dressed in his fireproofs and racing suit.

“Mon amour, you know how Monaco is. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then be disappointed if I don’t get pole or don’t win” he reasoned, but deep down he was feeling the exact same thing you were.

“But this year is going to be different, I know it will!” you pressed on, making him chuckle in adoration at the hear of your determined voice. “Every other driver has said the same thing and every presenter from F1 TV is saying you’re definitely going to break the curse tomorrow”

“Have you been watching F1 TV again to hear what they have to say about me?” he teased, laughing once he sees the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“That’s not the point. I’m telling you, I have a good feeling about tomorrow. But still, no pressure. You go out there, drive safe and come back to me in one piece. If you end up winning, that’s great, but if you don’t, we’ll get them next year. Sounds good?” you bargained, knowing that he didn’t need any more pressure added on his shoulders than he already had.

He sighed but nodded, pausing his actions to give you a kiss.

“Let’s do it then”

And, true to his word, he came back to you, in one piece, starting from pole in the Monaco GP.

♡♡♡♡♡

There was something special in the air as you entered the paddock with Pascale and Arthur, making your way towards the Ferrari hospitality to watch the race. The entire city of Monte Carlo was absolutely buzzing with excitement, the paddock feeling more alive than ever as their home hero prepared to take on the beautiful circuit that was Monaco.

You didn’t see Charles before he got into the car, you didn’t want to cause him any kind of distraction before he started the race, but you couldn’t help sprinting down to the garage during the Red Flag, knowing you had plenty of time before the race would start up again.

Finding him wasn’t hard at all. He was speaking with his mechanics, drinking some water out of his bottle.

You approached him hurriedly, at which he excused himself from the conversation once he saw you approaching him.

“Mon amour, is everything okay? You’re supposed to be with maman, Arthur and Joris up in the hospitality” he said, worry etched on his face.

“Everything is fine, don’t worry. I just came down here to wish you good luck, you know, once FIA decides to restart the race” you joked, hoping to make his spirits lift up a little.

He chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. You could see the stress sitting behind the facade, the worry and pressure tensing up his muscles and demeanor.

Noticing you studying his face and realizing you knew how stressed he was, he smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“You know we’re proud of you no matter what, right?” you whispered, thankful for the loud sounds of mechanics working left and right that helped drown out your conversation to other people around you.

He sighed, but nodded. “I know, but I just can’t shake the stress. I’ve been quick all weekend and everyone knows that. What if something happens and my race goes to shit like every time? I don’t think I’ll be ready to cope with another disappointment from my home track” he confessed, which made your heart squeeze.

His entire life, the only thing that he wanted was to win in Monaco, but the track has always failed him. And for once, he felt like he could finally break the curse that has been following him around for years, yet he still worried that something would completely ruin his race.

“Baby, nobody will think less of you if you don’t win today. Racing is so unpredictable, you put your life in danger every time you get in the car and people know that. We’ll be proud of you no matter the outcome today” you said, holding his face in your hands to make sure he understood you.

He bit the inside of his cheek but nodded, knowing you were right.

“I love you” he murmured, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

“I love you too. Be safe out there and show everyone what you’re made of” you said once you pulled away, smiling and pecking his lips once again before leaving him to it.

You made your way back to the hospitality where Charles’ family was waiting for you.

“How is he?” Pascale asked you as you sat down next to her.

“He’s stressed, but he’s doing okay. He really wants to win today” you explained, running a hand through your hair.

Pascale nodded, knowing how important this day was for her son.

“He’ll win, I can feel it” Pascale said, taking your hand in hers.

♡♡♡♡♡

Some people would say that you bewitched your fiancé, some would say that a divine force had finally taken pity upon him, but only one thing was for certain.

Charles Leclerc had finally won his home race, the Monaco Grand Prix.

From the moment he had crossed the finish line and taken the checkered flag, everything that happened was a blur. Between hugging his family, texting your friends, crying because of how proud you were of him, things were a big blur.

Hearing him screaming on the radio had been what had made you break down. He had spent so many hours training, figuring out strategies, doing everything in his power to make sure that things would go well for him around his home streets and his hard work had finally paid off.

You couldn’t hold in the excitement that you felt, the pride you held for the man you loved more than life itself. Which frankly explains why you hurried out of the Ferrari hospitality and ran to the grid where the Ferrari mechanics were waiting for Charles.

The moment you saw him get out of the car and throw himself at his team, the cascade of tears began once again, blurring your vision which now only consisted of the red teamwear all around you.

“Y/N!” you were snapped out of your thoughts by Charles’ voice, who had noticed you crying as soon as he hugged his team.

The Ferrari mechanics quickly made way for you, letting you jump into Charles’ arms and wrapping your legs around his waist as he hugged you tightly to his body.

“I did it, Y/N. I finally did it” he cried into your shoulder, which made you let out more tears and squeeze him even tighter than you already were.

“I told you, I knew you were going to do it. My Monaco winner” you pulled away slightly to kiss him, taking his face in your hands.

The entire team cheered around you, paparazzi taking pictures upon pictures of the moment shared between you.

“I love you so fucking much” you whispered against his lips, making him grin widely.

“I love you too”

And with that, the Monaco curse has finally been broken, once and for all.

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miirohs · 2 days

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all yours, all mine [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader wc: 1.3k cw: again, slight yandere/possesive tendencies, allusion to abuse an: guys i am feeling uninspired lately,,,, needed to pull everything in me for this one. sigh. its 2 in the morning what am i doing with my life i need to sleep not be up to this bs GODDDDDDD strike me down.

Charles knew you weren’t truly his wife.

He himself had shot his bride to be, too loud and too lecherous to realize how she’d met her end, bragging about killing him for his money in his club.

He thought that’d be the last of it, that their family wouldn’t be brave enough to show face again.

Yet, they became audacious, sending him a woman, a woman who was nothing like the bride he had seen.

Hell, you didn’t even look the same as the other.

There was no way their family didn’t know by now that he was the one who killed their only daughter, yet he could only imagine this was their attempt at faking normalcy because he’d never seen his bride before, right?

He laughed, in all honesty.

He could’ve played along, see what would’ve happened, and have been done with you by dinner if he wanted to. But part of him wanted you to show your true colors, to be able to kill the venomous woman hiding behind the veil.

That day never came though.

He was too baffled by the sight of you clinging to their sides, eyes down as you could barely keep up in the shoes slightly too big to be yours.

He pretended not to notice.

At dinner he questioned you, much to your visible discomfort. He could see the glances you gave the other members of your supposed family, meekly responding back as they glared sharply at your head, only smiling when they noticed his stares. It didn’t take long for him to connect two and two.

It was there and then he’d made the awfully irrational decision to go forward with the marriage. He wanted to pull you out of your shell, see who you really were under the supposed mask you had on in front of everyone.

Your marriage was a grand affair, bosses from all around the globe visiting just to see the ceremony. He had refused to give in to their demands for a smaller wedding, going all out just for you.

And true to his word, he treated you with more respect than he’d ever cared to show anyone else. For him, hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks as he tried to pull you out of your shell.

It was a while before he got the first laugh out of you. He felt like he’d won everything when you gave him small smiles. He did everything to get them out of you. Showering you in lavish gifts, surprising you with expensive dates, it made him feel like he was finally doing something right.

Seeing your full smile was what truly made it worth it, easing the pain of your time with your former family, if he could even call them that.

He’d made sure to cut all contact with them, and he knew you were contacting them against his wishes, so he took it into his own hands to make sure they couldn’t bother you for a single cent again. He plotted behind your back and as sorry as he felt for lying to you, he paid for his guilt in consuming you with his neediness, wrapping you tightly from your waking moments almost as if you’d disappear forever if you left his field of vision.

You didn’t question it, but you couldn’t lie and say it didn’t startle you a bit.

He hummed as you gently ran your fingers through his hair, pit forming in your stomach as you heard him mutter in Italian on the phone, pen scratching against the paper of his notepad.

You heard the bare sentences of his conversation, too fast for you to understand, but you thought you had a good idea of what he was planning.

“Dovremo metterli a tacere (We'll have to silence them)-”

A couple heartbeats passed as he listened, your heart clenching almost painfully as you held the cuff of his suit jacket between your thumb and index finger. Maybe he had figured it out, maybe he was already plotting ways to dispose of you for tricking him in such a grievous manner. You hadn’t heard from the family in weeks, and it made you anxious.

“Non sono d'accordo? Bene, uccideteli (they won’t agree? fine, kill them).”

For a moment there, you didn’t see your husband, but the Devil of Monte Carlo.

He didn’t say anything, and you couldn’t bring yourself to, letting your hand slip away from his crown.

“Y/n? What happened?” He frowned, hand rubbing against the small of your back.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, words lying on the tip of your tongue as he cocked his head at you.

“It’s nothing.” You moved your hands away from his neck, balling into little fists in your lap.

“It’s not nothing,” He pressed, staring you down firmly despite the gentle tone of his voice. He knew you, almost too well.

“I… i don’t know how to tell you. You’re going to hate me if I do.” Your voice warbled out as he kissed you on the neck, too light and breezy to mean anything serious.

“Try me. You’d be surprised at how well I take things, and I'm not unreasonable.” Another kiss, leading up the column of your neck as you squealed at the feeling of his warm lips on cooled skin.

“Well, uh, i-” He bit down lightly, earning a soft smack from you in the back of the head, “-Char, what are you doing?”

“Trying to cheer you up.” He said, kissing on the spot he’d bit with an incomparable amount of gentleness.

“I just have something to tell you and i-”

“Is it important in any way that actively harms our lives?” He butt in, giving you a curious look.

“No, but-”

“Then I don't care.” He shrugged, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You didn’t even know you could’ve gotten that loud, when you finally spit it out.

“I’m not your real wife, Char. I never was.”

He didn’t say anything, humming against the crown of your head as his hand snuck up your back and held you closer to him.

“Char, please.”

“I knew that, this isn’t new news.”

You held on, mouth gaping slightly.

“You… you knew this whole time, and you-”

“I deliberately didn’t tell you.” He scoffed, pulling your chin down to look at him. “I knew you’d run back to that so-called family that I did if I had told you. You barely trusted me, and it was their fault. So that’s why I'm going to make sure all of them take a nice long vacation.”

You couldn’t really feel the abject horror anymore, melting into sheer relief as you finally looked at him once more.

There was something about the way he looked at you, tantalizing and hypnotized almost.

‘But, aren’t you mad about me…?”

“Oh I was, I was furious.”

His lips ghosted over yours, the hint of a smile somewhere there.

“But they ended up giving me something all the more precious, something I couldn't replace. You know what that is, mon amour?”

You didn’t even have to say it, as he kissed you, lips smooth against your slightly chapped ones. The expensive perfume grew smaller, closer and closer to you as the space between you closed.

“I’ve done some unspeakable things.” He panted quietly against your lips, landing another soft kiss on the other corner. “But nothing as unspeakable as killing your so-called “family” this late in the game. Some part of me wishes i had done it earlier to spare you that grief.”

You didn’t respond but he continued nonetheless, hands wrapped around your waist to bring you closer to him .”Remember that you're mine and I'm all yours. I would do anything for you.”

And the worst part is, somewhere deep down, you knew it to be true. He was always yours, and you were always his. He'd made sure of it, and you weren't entirely complaining.

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homestylehughes · 2 days

Text

reading interruptions

pairing(s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: when yn gets interrupted by quinn and his dirty mouth, while reading on the boat.

warning(s): plot with porn, smut 18+, oral fem!receiving, dirty talk, cussing. quinn has a dirty mouth in this. fluff, cute reader and quinn.

wc: 2.8k

an: hiiiii!!! new quinn ficcccc. i will never leave my quinn era. ever. recently ive been in a summer mood, first with sundresses and now with boats idk whats going on LOL. i honestly dont know where this idea came from, and for some reason i think it's bad? idk maybe ive just been looking at it too long i couldnt tell you LOL. so let me know if you guys like it or not. anyways!! i'll stop yapping now. i hope you guys enjoyyyy, like and reblog if you do! as always much love <3

happy reading <3

The morning sun comes through the window, peeking through everglow slightly illuminating the room, casting a light glow over the walls and a sleeping quinn. Quinns body lays partially over mine, our legs intertwined together. his face nuzzled into my neck, soft snores leave his mouth as he sleeps soundly against me.

There weren't many days where I'd wake up before Quinn, his schedule keeping and waking him up at the early hours of the day. Ever since the hockey season ended in a heartbreaking loss in the playoffs, he'd been sleeping more, getting the much deserved rest he’s needed. Quinn wanted away from hockey, from Vancouver, so he decided heading to the lake house earlier than usual to get away from everyone would be the fix.

Which leads us to the position we're in now, my hands moving slowly up and down his back as he still sleeps soundly against me. Quinn always looks the most peaceful when he’s sleeping, so at peace and calm.

I feel quinns body shift slightly besides me, feeling him roll away from me, my body already feeling cold without his warmth beside me. I sit up in the bed, watching Quinn stretch and yawn himself awake, rubbing his eyes like a little kid before he turns to me with a soft smile on his face.

“Good morning” he says, his voice thick with sleep.

“Good morning handsome” I smile back “sleep well?”

“Mhm” he mumbles out as he makes his way to me from across the bed, grabbing my thighs pulling me on top of him.

“Hi” i giggle from above him

“Hi baby” he grins at me, his hands finding my neck pulling me down into a sweet kiss. My hands lay flat against his chest as I melt into the kiss. After a few moments I pull away to catch my breath, and to get a better look at him. The glow of the sun now being at its brightest, covering most of the room. Highlighting Quinn's body, his golden brown locks and blue eyes shining brightly in the glow.

“You look so pretty” I say, as I bring my hands to his cheeks, running my fingers over his jaw, over every scar. Tracing and taking in everything part of him, memorizing every line like I've never seen them before. Quinn blushes at my complement, nuzzling his face into my hand, a smile breaking through on his features as he does so.

“Thank you baby” he says, bringing his head back to lay against the pillow looking back at me. “What do you want to do today?” his hands running across my bare thighs, his touch spreading warmth throughout my body.

“Could we go on the boat?” i ask

“Is that what you want to do?” he asks me again.

“Mhm, yes. I even brought a new book to read to you, just for this, " I say with a smile.

Quinn loves when i read to him, the peaceful feeling of being on the boat, the waves flowing beneath would be the perfect setting.

“Alright you've convinced me, maybe we could even have lunch on the boat too? If you're up for that?”

“That's fine with me, just want to be around you” I say before dropping my head into his neck, breathing in his scent, his arms circling around my waist pulling my body flush against his.

“Okay baby” he says into my hair

“Okay come on, let's get up. '' I said, lifting myself from him, patting his chest before swinging my legs off of him getting out of bed.

“I'm cominggggg” Quinn says from the bed, as I make my way to the bathroom, turning back around to see him lying face down in the middle of the bed, his arms and legs fanning out across the bed.

Giggles rip through my body as I look at his childlike state, shaking my head as I take another glance at him before turning around heading to the bathroom to start getting ready for my day.

Taking a quick shower, throwing on a random swimsuit, before heading down stairs to start making lunch for myself and Quinn to take on the boat.

Deciding on sandwiches and chips, with some fruit would be the best option for lunch. Just as I'm packing everything up I see Quinn coming down the stairs, in a pair of black swim trunks and a Canucks shirt.

'What did you pack for lunch?’ he asks, pressing a kiss to the side of my head, walking behind me to the fridge to grab bottles of water before turning back the counter, putting the bottles of water in the cooler.

“Sandwiches, chips and fruit, is that okay with you?” I say as I place the food into the cooler along with the water, closing the top before looking up at quinn.

“Yeah that's fine with me baby, perfect” he says leaning in for a quick kiss

“Do you have everything you need?” he says while grabbing the cooler from the counter walking towards the back door

“Yes I think so, let me go grab my bag from the couch then I'm ready” I say smiling at him, making my way to the living room grabbing my bag that has my book, sunglasses and other things in it, pulling it over my shoulder before following Quinn out the back door.

Following him down the dock towards the boat, reaching the boat, Quinn got on first placing the cooler down before turning around offering me his hand, helping me step on the boat.

Walking over, placing my things on one of the seats, turning around, taking a look at the lake, the site never fails to take my breath away. I feel Quinn's arms circle my waist, pulling my body against his.

“Where do you wanna go today?” he asks me, his chin resting on my shoulder as he looks out at the lake.

“Doesn't matter me” i say turning around wrapping my arms around his neck, “take us where the wind takes you”

“That was so corny” he laughs

“Yeah it sounded better in my head..” i say laughing along with him

“It was still cute” he says, giving a kiss to my forehead, turning around making his way to the dock, untying the boat from the dock.

“Okay ma'am we’re about to take off, all passengers please remain in your seats” he says with a smile spreading along his features.

“Yes caption” I say, saluting him, taking a seat on the boat.

Making his way to the cockpit sitting down, turning on the boat before taking off along the water, the wind blowing in my hair as we ride across the lake

The boat rocks gently to the calm waves that run through the lake, Quinn docking the boat, now at a standstill in the middle of the lake. The bright summer sun beating on our skin, the warmth casting over my body as I grab my book, before settling back in my seat. Moving a pillow to rest under my neck and part of my upper back, laying down to rest myself against it, pulling my knees up, so i can rest my book on my thighs opening it book, i begin reading,

The romance novel pulls me into an alternate reality so deep that I forget that I'm even on the boat with Quinn until his voice breaks through the silence.

“I missed it out here” he says his eyes looking around the lake taking in it like it's his first time seeing it, “i forgot how peaceful it is out here” he continues.

“ It's so peaceful out here, it's nice to see you so relaxed” I say to Quinn, looking at him above the pages of my book.

“I thought you were supposed to read to me baby?” he asks

“Come over here” I say with a smile, opening my legs so he can rest in between them. his footsteps padding across the boat, as he lays himself between my legs, his warm skin laying against mine, his arms circling around my waist as he pulls himself closer to me.

“Comfortable?” I say looking down at him, his head resting against my stomach, Quinn shaking his head up and down in response.

“Good. okay, now where was I?” my eyes searched for where I left off on my page, finding my spot again, taking a deep breath before I began reading. My eyes glance down every few minutes to see if Quinn is asleep or not, occasionally feeling his fingers trace down my sides, as I continue to read to him. Just as I'm getting to an interesting part in my chapter, I feel Quinn's body move lower against mine, not thinking anything of his movement. I continue reading.

Pausing to take a deep breath before reading the next line, I feel a warm kiss being placed right below my belly button, causing me to stop reading, lifting the book up, looking down at Quinn whose face is right in front of my covered core, his eyes locked with mine.

“What are you doing?” I ask slightly confused at his actions

“Nothing, just wanted to lay down here, keep reading for me baby”

“Okay” I say before licking my lips, picking up on the unread line.

I don't even make it through half the page before I feel Quinn pressing more kisses across my lower stomach, kissing all along the top of my bottoms. His fingers sliding under the ties on the slides pulling down slightly, rubbing his fingers along the skin under.

Clearing my throat before starting again, my brain struggling to register the words I'm reading, all of my focus on the man between my legs. My brain goes completely to mush, when I feel quinn pressed kisses against my covered core, my breath immediately hitching at the sudden touch.

“Quinn, i'm trying to read '' my eyes locking with his, a small smirk dances along his face.

“No ones stopping you from reading baby” he says, his fingers moving under the sides of my bottoms.

His hands move to pull on one of the strings that hold the left side of my bottom together, pulling it apart with one tug, repeating the same action on the other side, his eyes still locked with mine.

“Quinn '' my breath hitching, as he moved his thumbs under the now loosened fabric, peeling it back, exposing my bare cunt, the wind casting a slight breeze causing me to shutter when it hits my exposed center.

“Quinn” I say again, my voice slightly higher than the previous attempt, trying to get his attention.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing? I thought you wanted me to read to you?”

“I did, but now I want to hear that pretty mouth make some other noises,” he says, before grabbing the loosened bottoms from my body, throwing them somewhere on the boat. Grabbing the book out of my hands, closing it, throwing it in the same direction.

“Quinn, are you serious, I was reading!” I am slightly annoyed but turned on at the sudden change of Quinn's intentions.

“Shhhhhh, lay back and let me have a taste” his eyes locked with mine as he began tracing random shapes on the insides of my thighs, his hand inching closer and closer to my exposed cunt.

I couldn't help but comply with his words, his face inching closer and closer to my center, I felt his warm breath against my folds. His tongue darted out, licking a stripe down my center. My head falls back against the pillow, as he begins to lick at my folds. his hands pulling my thighs apart, gaining better access to my cunt.

His tongue finds my clit as he begins to run his tongue along the bud, my jaw falling slack as my hands grab his hair, needing something to stabilize myself with. As he continues to lap up my clit, like a popsicle on a hot summer day.

“Quinn, fuck” I moan out from above him, his movements never slowing running his tounge over every part of my cunt. The sound of him sucking up everybit of my wetness, is like music to my ears.

“Taste so good baby” he mutters against my cunt, before diving back in, his hands pulling my thighs further apart as he continues to devour my cunt.

“Quinn don't stop please” my chest rising and falling quickly as I struggle to catch my breath. My body feels like it's on fire, not just from the heat of the sun on my skin but from the feeling of Quinn’s burning touch.

His tongue continues to thrust in and out of my weeping hole, my moans growing louder and louder as I feel myself getting closer to my peak.

“Fuck look at you baby” pulling his face away from my cunt, bringing two of his fingers dragging them through my cunt, my wetness coating his fingers.

“Look at that baby” he says now looking up at me, holding the two fingers in front of him, “do you wanna taste?” he asks me

Nodding my head in a yes, Quinn brings his fingers to my mouth pushing my lips apart, shoving them into my mouth slowly. My tongue swirls around the digits, the taste of my cunt wrapping around each of my taste buds.

My eyes are locked with Quinn’s as I continue to suck on his fingers, his eyes hooded with mine, blown with lust and he looks up at me. He slowly pulls the fingers out of my mouth, a string of saliva following them. Tracing his fingers down my stomach down to my core, before running them across my cunt, my body itching around nothing from the action.

“Quinn” i whine

“What baby?” he says as continues to run his fingers along my cunt.

“Do you want my fingers? Is that what you want?”

“Yes fuck please” i whine again, my hands finding his hair again pulling it, hoping that, that will urge him along.

“So needy baby” he says laughing against my cunt, placing a kiss to my slit before pushing two fingers into my cunt.

My head dropping back instantly, my body feeling full, as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out. Broken moans are falling from my lips, my eyes closed as my body moves against his. Moving my hips to help meet his thrusts.

“Right there right there” I moaned, my legs beginning to shake as I felt myself about to come.

“Quinn” i whine out, as he attaches his mouth to my clit, rolling his tongue over it, as his fingers continue to fuck me.

“Please dont stop fuck” lifting my head to look at quinn, the sight of him inbetween my legs, mouth wrapped around my clit, as i watch his fingers thrust in and out me, takes my breath away.

Quinn's eyes looking up, locking them with mine, his movements never stilling. My hips continue to move against his, the burning feeling in the pit of my stomach continues to grow with every touch, thrust, everything setting my body a blaze.

One last curl of his fingers sends me into a frenzy, my head dropping back against the pillow, my month agape but no words are coming out. My legs shaking as I come, my hands still in Quinn's hair pulling the locks so hard that it probably hurts. My vision clouds over as my orgasm takes over my body.

I don't even realize Quinn's fingers have left my body, until I feel him pressing kisses along my neck. My eyes opened slowly, my chest still rising and falling, struggling to catch my breath and find my words.

“Are you with me, pretty girl?” Quinn says, looking down at me, pushing hair that's fallen into my face back.

“Yeah i think so” bringing my hands to his face, pulling him down into a kiss.

“Did so good for me” he says once he pulls back, “always so good to me” he says peppering kisses all over my face.

“I love you” i mumble to him

“I love you more” rubbing small circles on my sides, as he looks at me, a wide smile on his face.

“Can you go grab my book?” I ask him with a small pout on my lips

“Oh im not done with you yet” quinn says with a smirk playing his face, before flipping us over, my hips now straddling his lap.

“I think this is next to go” pulling at my top, undoing the strings in the back pulling it from my body tossing it somewhere in the boat, my top now completely bare to him.

“Now where was i?” he says licking his lips, before crashing ours together.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #qh43

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suguru-getos · 3 days

Note

Could you write a continuation of yandere satosugu where the reader lived and they try everything to help her get better and care for her?

| making up for mistakes | yandere satosugu x reader |

-> continuation of the first part: link 🔗

you had survived the almost suicide attempt you so carefully & yet so carelessly attempted. you were sure you weren’t getting up after this. damn it you made sure to hit your head hard, you could see blanks, you could see stars in your eyes until it all faded to a peaceful nothing-ness.

now, you’re awake again. nothing hurts. you know they must’ve told their friend shoko to aid in your injuries. you feel like you’ve woken up from a long slumber. unwanted as it may be… it does make you feel eerily refreshed. you stretch your limbs from the bed, they’re going to kill you for this. kill you for hampering with their property. oh well — at this point you’re fine with it. what’s it going to do? hurt you. pain is all there is they could ever offer anyways. maybe you can scream out and wish it gets over. that’s all you set your mind to.

you look to the side, the curtains are open and there is a little drizzle of snow. it brings a smile to your face. what if you hadn’t been kidnapped? it would’ve been so fun to hop into one of the lovely cafes you like & order some hot cocoa. put both your hands and wrap them around the ceramic of the hot cup and exhale in utter relaxation of the aroma the sweet cafe has to offer. oh… happy days.

its nauseating what your life is now, wrapping a blanket around yourself and checking down below. you are wearing clothes, decent clothes… not the sultry, slutty ones that satoru forces you to wear. you feel like you could throw up when the reminder occurs again. beaten up like you were nothing but an animal, throwing up in pain and anxiety--

"there we go! princess! awake! oh my god!" satoru comes in and hugs you tightly, his bulky arms wrapping against you, he doesn't let your mind have the time to panic. besides, satoru was... not the one who inflicted you that pain. even though he did nothing about it, in a moment of pure misery, your mind would latch on to him for comfort. "baby- you scared daddy, please don't do that ever again. fuck! i thought i lost you." you could hear the heartbeats on your snow haired man, they were ragged and reminded of the same panic you once bore.

"sorry." your eyes lack all emotions, just a soft murmur escaping you. the haunting realization that you were alive was eating you up. even so, it was your soul that had died. it's the dejected way you answered that makes satoru panic even more. immediately at your knees, leaning against your thighs and mumbling soft apologies, tears wetting your skin. "please baby, I'm so sorry, i should never have let that happen... you did a mistake that's all! you- you- pissed us off." he shakes his head, hugging you tightly.

your hands robotically landed across his hair, caressing. "it's okay, i did wrong, i understand."

your responses were making him nauseous, he hated seeing you in pain, but suguru always says its something that's needed. why is it needed? you're not an animal, are you? the ways with which satoru and suguru try to 'discipline' their toy they are delusional enough to call their lover is insane.

"i got breakfast, little one." now, your heart sinks. you hear the voice of the man who did this to you, mothering, now that his rage is faded into pure, eviscerating guilt. "you have no idea the joy it gives me seeing you awake." suguru hums, and you latch onto satoru, hugging him tightly. satoru's heart skips a beat. this was not the first time you had reached out to him, yet, you did it by your own. it gives him a sick sense of protectiveness. "he wouldn't do anything to ya baby, suguru loves you too." he reminds, looking at a devastated suguru.

"please don't hurt yourself again, angel" suguru hums, leaning in and kissing your forehead. it makes you sick to your stomach, how they treat you right now. you know that whatever you did yielded no results. and they are ever so careful about the same. you're pretty sure you'd have either of them by your side at all times.

"let's go and eat, suguru's made your favorite!" satoru chirps, happily holding you princess-style and going to the dining area. your eyes wandered to the other room on the way, the same room where this all happened, it's making you panic internally. the grotesque reminder of how they treated you. you're about to throw up again.

as soon as satoru puts you down, you run to throw up in disgust, nothing comes out except a few drops of water. your stomach is empty as is. a large, looming hand caresses your back. "I'm sorry, angel. please relax." suguru-- it's suguru...

"i'm sorry." you answered, "i am so sorry." you nodded to get back to the dining area, you should know better than to be with satoru. its not like suguru wouldn't do anything he wants anyways... you'd just like to have some comfort over it.

luckily for you, the breakfast went fine, you were eating quietly, while satoru just observed you. how uncomfortable you looked, the subtle shift in your demeanor. every tiny thing. suguru is essentially doing the same, gazing at your way and observing you. "you look beautiful." suguru comments, and you force a smile from the deepest pits of your psyche. "thank you, suguru."

you know he's ticked off, you need to call them 'daddy' and you're here, addressing them by their first names. sigh... they just have to help you heal, there isn't anything they can do about it really. they pushed you this far, and they should make up for it.

however, as days turn into weeks, satoru and suguru are forced to face the haunting realization that your mental and physical health is worsening. you barely eat, barely talk... you just, stare into the nothingness of empty spaces. satoru has avoided missions to take care of you. he is by your side, sleeps next to you, kisses your forehead, helps you take a shower. while earlier, you tried to at least pretend and work with it. answer however you could, talk to them, fake your smiles, now its nothing. you barely talk.

this time, satoru has a mission to take care of, but suguru is the one who's spending time with you. gently placing you on the bathtub, caressing your forearm, massaging it, decorating it with petals. "there we go little girl, there we go. feels nice?" he coos, and when you don't respond, sighs weakly. he wishes he could at least hear something out of you. when he sees you immersed in auto-pilot, he hums by himself; "yes, yes it is." he has to talk to himself in hopes that its you talking to him. "you know, me and satoru... we were thinking a trip to Italy sounds nice, or maybe Paris.." you used to love travelling, he hopes that would utter out a response from you. NOTHING comes out of you however. that makes suguru's heart break a little, "or maybe, anywhere that you like." he hums, sighing.

"angel?" he asks softly, leaning in and kissing your neck, maybe that would at least earn some leaning back. your resistance...

none.

"talk to me for fucks sake!" suguru snarls, glaring hard at you. you don't even flinch at that, contrary to your earlier flinching and tweaking. a sigh escapes him and then comes bubbling tears. he has truly fucked you up. the haunting realization finally hits him. he can't live with it anymore... it's choking the very fiber of his being.

the rest of the shower passes by in a haze, and suguru is quiet, tears dripping from his face. "what should i do so that you become normal again?" he asks again, pouting and begging with his eyes. no response...

he gets up after tucking you in bed. the dark circles in your eyes are an explicit example of how less you're sleeping. sometimes you wake up with irritating nightmares, screaming and crying. that's the only moment when satoru and suguru are welcomed by your affections.

suguru sighs, he needs to win you this time. or maybe... what's that called? stockholm syndrome?

or maybe, he needs to discuss with satoru about erasing your memory...

or maybe, he needs a curse that can shove your memory off and then they can date you.. from scratch...

either way, they're not leaving you. anytime soon.

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hoesformatt · 2 days

Text

“YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT”

chris smut, this was an old draft but i fixed it up and here we finally have the long awaited plug fic…

dom!plug!chris • poc!reader friendly

contains: mentions of smoking and drinking, choking, heavy petting, making out, edging, orgasm denial, cowgirl, pet names, no use of y/n

word count: 1.5k

not proofread

It was getting late, I was getting lonely and bored so I decided to go grab my smoke bag to find my tin. I got all giddy when I found my tin, but then my smile disappeared when I felt there was no weight to the tin.

Please tell me there’s something in here, please tell me there’s something in here, I repeated in my head but to no surprise, there was nothing but the whiff of weed and my hopes and dreams.

I contemplated on what I was going to do on my Saturday, either sit here and puff on my nicotine til I got nic sick, or call my plug aka my late night therapist, which I did not want to do.

He is my last resort call because of our history, my plug was one of the scariest people I’ve ever met and I try not to ring him too much because I do not want to see him… but I do at the same time. He is fine as fuck, I can’t deny that shit but I am petrified by him even so I’ve never given him my address and I always meet him at his place.

I decided to face my fears and shot him a text

Are u up?

What do you need mama

He replied immediately and called me that pet name that gave me instant butterflies

I ran out, I need a new pack of woods

it’s about fucking time

My heart dropped to my ass

you buy so much shit and then dip, I like seeing you

Fuck, what do I say. I was lowkey feeling how he was flirting with me. My thoughts were interrupted by another text

Let me pull up on you

Hell the fuck no.

The usual place?

Nah

Lemme pull up, it’s late and shit

It’s no problem, the usual place is good i’ll be there in 10

Being left on delivered, I was tripping out at this point. I guess I’m thugging it out tonight… sober. I grabbed my juicy peach ice, geek bar from the cushion beside taking a puff. May the pulse be with you I guess, I was thinking in my head too much, trying to remember where I put my blinker.

Hearing a car driving past my driveway, I glanced at my front door and the window beside it trying to see who is. A car door shut close and then the door soon began to jiggle and open.

I frantically ran into the kitchen but when I turned around and looked in the living room I saw my plug walking into my home, holding a plastic white bag, bee-lining for my couch “FUCK CHRIS, What the fuck are you doing here, how the fuck do you know where I live?!” This is exactly why I’m terrified of him.

My heart felt like it was beating 1000 beats per second right now, and it was not going down. It’s like he was a serial killer out for my blood. Apart from the fact that Chris walked into my house as if he owned it, I’m half naked wearing the smallest Ethika set ever.

My eyes almost instantly scaled to crotch, clothed behind his grey sweatpants. “I followed you home before” Chris had two paper bags, pulling out a dark liquor and a bottle of tequila. I was trying to still catch my breath, attempting to register everything at once. “Last time you needed shit it was around this time, a rando was watching you, so I followed him to your house,” Chris said it so casually, popping open the Hennessy “You have shot glasses? and chasers?” He looked up at me for a response.

Finally, I calmed myself down after he told me someone was following me and I just pulled out the glasses and sodas from my fridge “Get yourself one too” He suggested.

He then got up taking the can of Pepsi and the glass from my hands to my living room table. I slowly followed after him, finding my place, far away from him. “C’mere baby, don’t be shy” Chris gestured for me to sit beside him and I didn’t move an inch.

Chris grabbed his waistline pulling out a gun from there, tossing it casually across the other side of him then looked back at me. “Now what?” He arose from his seat to come and sit next to me, sliding a shot to me. “It’s too late for me to drink” I came up with a petty excuse. Chris scoffed, downing both of the shots without making a face, straight Hennessy.

“Ok.” He raised out of the position he was in taking the white bag beside him opening it pulling out packs of woods. “How much are you gonna buy then, since you want me gone.” I snatched two packs the Loose Leaf, Watermelon Dream from the pile, almost salivating about the thought of the high I was going to get. “Let me get my wallet” I got up but Chris’ legs were in my way “‘Xcuse” When I walked past him my ass brushed his face which Chris touched.

I gazed down at him, completely infatuated by my juicy ass, unable to keep his hands to himself. I brushed it off since I was too happy to care. I collected my wallet pulling out my cash, I handed it to him, still standing up “I don’t want your money” He said flinging the money in my direction. Chris’ glacial blue eyes fucked me, and he found it hard to control himself. I noticed his cock grew hard in his sweatpants, and he bucked his hips upwards, enticing me. “You know what I want.”

Finally I gave in, straddling his lap and his hands immediately pulled me down to press upon his hardness. I waved my hips, making him moan as I took control.

Chris grasped my neck with aggression while stripping me of my tube top, lowering it. He latched his lips to my nipples, moving his hands down to my hips and helping me wave them. “Take your shorts off.”

Raising me, I removed my shorts in anticipation as he set free his large length that slapped against his stomach. He whipped out a condom from one of his pockets sliding it onto his length. When I got back on his lap, he had licked his two fingers, dipping them into me then back out to lick his fingers. “You must love me with the way you’re so wet for me” Chris smirked, aligning himself to my pulsing cunt. He pushed my hips down to settle onto his cock, I threw my head back to the feeling of him stretching me out.

With no patience Chris began to thrust upwards with a tight grip on my waist, making my tits jump. I cupped my hands over my mouth because I couldn’t show him how good he was making me feel, reaching points I didn’t know were there. Chris smacked my hand "Don't cover your mouth, I want to hear you” The sounds of his raspy voice and the wet noises faded together, I felt our wetness puddle under me. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel” Chris whispered in my ear.

I couldn’t believe that he was making me cum so quickly and he knew it, so he took his thumb and massaged my clit relentlessly trying to get the words out of me. “Tell me.” I shook my head no but my body was beginning to grow tired. Then he stopped. He stopped thrusting into me and I whined, “If I don’t make you fell good you should do it yourself right?” Chris didn’t care at all and I needed my release badly.

I took both of his wrist, putting them behind his head to ride my high. My erotic movements made Chris twitch inside me as he hit wall to wall.

It was so addicting that I wanted to feel him raw inside me and when I pulled his cock out of me, the condom was coated his sticky liquids. I yanked the rubber off his length and it slowly rolled up until it was off and I threw it elsewhere, jumping back on his dick.

Chris succumbed to my wetness, whimpering loudly as I wrapped around him. I bounced on his cock, hoping that my legs wouldn’t give up on me but Chris suddenly decided to take control again and ram into me. “I need to cum, I need to cum, please, please” I begged Chris to let me cum, reaching my climax. “Yes Chris, yes, yes—” Just as I was about to cum, Chris pulled out again and this time he threw me back on the couch.

“Please Chris, why— ” He had put back on his pants, packing up the rest of his shit.

“I don’t fuck ungrateful whores” He said casually, gripping my hair and kissing my cheek.

tags: @lunariaxzz @chrissturniolosbitch @leahsbussy @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @idkwhosnyla @zayyluvz @i8kth @nonamegirlxsturniolo @ka1nani @livvy4realll @fuzzycupcakebeliever @mattgirly @love4chris @mattslutt @nickgetsmewetter @hearts4chriss @thenickgirl @jnkvivi

#hoesformatt #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #fan fiction #fan fic

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deonsx · 3 days

Text

If They Take Aphrodisiacs

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor

Content: Nsfw, Smut

Dazai Osamu

The nights you spent with your boyfriend always made you very happy. Whether it was the way he always cherished you, the gentleness and the sensual feelings he gave you... the words that made you beg him all the time, you always loved these, but have you ever thought about the possibility of him begging? Wouldn't you like it if he begged you with a sexual hunger just like you? Since you started thinking about this, the direction of your desires changed and you decided to make plans

He is an intelligent man, it is only a matter of time before he realizes what he is drinking, but since he would not expect such boldness from you, everything became simpler. You gave him a heavy aphrodisiac syrup mixed with the drink you gave him that night, and he made a grimace when he first drank it. "It was sour than I thought, shouldn't it be spoiled?" You replied, taking a sip of your own drink. "I don't think so, it's Chuuya-san's choice." You cleared the doubt in his mind by saying so. "Ahhh Chuuya?? It's definitely poisonous then"

Dazai went to sleep half an hour later because he wanted to go to bed early tonight and you couldn't escape the idea of wearing something nice. You went forward wearing sensual dresses. Dazai looked very calm, which made you suspicious... When you approached him, you saw that he was sweating slightly "My love..Are you okay, it looks like you have a fever" " you spoke, placing your hand on the brunette's forehead "Ahm..I don't know, I feel weird"

You grinned slightly "Is my boy really tired today" you played with his curls and placed kisses on his forehead which made him suddenly pull away from your arms and lay on top of you "I thought you were tired Osamu" He barely smiled "Hah...I-I feel warm" you gently cupped his cheek and kissed him. holding his arms, you changed your places and now you were on top, you sat on his tent and lightly rubbed him "uhhh..Love please..I need you"

"Really darling? Let me hear you beg for more" brown eyes looked at you sharply from under their long eyelashes and then their lips let out a deep breath "I need you..I want you my love..please don't turn me away" you slowly unzipped his pants and they were already sewn. You revealed his tent

"Now I see more clearly how much you need me, my love"

Chuuya Nakahara

It was an ordinary day at work. PM days had never been this tiring. You weren't sure if it was the duties or the new blonde girl that was tiring your mind. Are you jealous of your boyfriend from that girl? But she won't betray you, you trust her... But it seems like that girl is trying to use Chuuya's kindness. It's been 2 months since that girl came, but you were bored now, something was happening every day and she was visiting your boyfriend's office, files? enemies? information? boast? she was really trying to seduce him

Every time you tried to talk about this with your boyfriend, he denied it and said that the girl was just immature and was just trying to reinforce things with questions. No matter how angry you got, you couldn't do much. Instead of focusing on these, you thought of focusing on your relationship... something that would make him listen to you, something that would make everything sprout again. well..a few drops of aphrodisiac

You changed the same boring day at work completely. Chuuya wanted his usual morning coffee in his office, but he didn't know who made the coffee. When he entered his office with a coffee in his hand, his eyes narrowed with a warm smile. "My love..Did you make coffee for me?" you nodded slightly and placed the coffee in front of his desk "It was stupid to argue with you about that girl last night dear" chuuya bowed his head slightly and took a sip of his coffee "it's okay from now on I'll make sure he doesn't come into this room that often I promise"

While you were talking, chuuya started to sweat and his breaths became faster. "It was hot.." You blinked your eyes as if you didn't know. "oh? are you sure about that..that you weren't the one who was actually hot...?" his eyes quickly found you, "Did you give me an aphrodisiac, darling, I didn't think you would do this at work" you stood up and walked towards the chair your lover was sitting on and sat on his lap "my love, you were so busy with work these days, I wanted you to give your mind to me"

you covered him with your kisses you left bruises on his neck and gently unbuttoned his shirt "You are so naughty s/o..." you giggled and just rubbed on his lap which made him moan "nghh~ don't make fun of me dear" a knock on the door stopped you both but the voice was the person you wanted to hear "Chuuya-san Can I come in?" That high pitched and affectionate girl's voice, Chuuya couldn't even answer as he was out of breath, but the girl already wanted to enter so he opened the door quickly "Chuuya-...." When you turned your head back you saw the girl's disappointed expression

"Leave me and my girlfriend alone intern"

Fyodor Dostoyevski

Your boyfriend literally doesn't have time for you and this isn't just a 1-2 week thing, it's been 2 months, he can't take his mind off his plans to beat the detective agency and his mind games with Dazai, he doesn't even look at you. You even tried to tell him this "Fyodor... I know you're on the job but "I missed you." He frowned slightly and turned his head from the computer to you. "When the time comes, I will make you forgive me for this indifference." In the second attempt, you prepared a meal for him, but he did not leave his room. In the third attempt, you fought with him and unfortunately, you argued and you tripped without taking a step back. He didn't try to forgive

Finally, one day, an idea came to your mind, you knew he would get angry with you, but you still thought it would solve the problem between you, and now you were upset with him. Normally, you were always the one to hold people back, so this time, you were going to use it. You went home, Fyodor hadn't arrived yet, you prepared a meal and put a lot of your syrup into it. , time has passed. Finally, your lover came home, his eyes looked at the already prepared dinner table, then he looked at you. "Dinner?" He knew you were upset with him, normally he wouldn't eat dinner, but this time he sat at the table for you both.

It was a quiet dinner, as you'd expect, and no sound was heard leaving him. After the meal, the usual work change went on, nothing happened yet, you didn't see any reaction, did it go wrong? Didn't it show aphrodisiac performance? Was the amount not enough? Everything was empty, you took steps towards your room and you were passing by your boyfriend's study, you stood as still as possible until the rapid breathing became louder, very light moaning sounds, it was easy to hear his sounds in the quiet house.

It was fun to listen to your voices. Only the lights were illuminating the dark room. You slowly opened the door, but I guess Fyodor didn't hear it. The voices continued in the same tone. You looked into the room with your eyes and saw your boyfriend, who had thrown his head back and grasped his dick with his hands.. He was trying to help himself.. How sad..." Does someone need my help?" purple eyes opened like they were shining in the dark and they turned directly to you "What did you put in that food...haah.." as the light moans continued he removed his hands from his cock and tried to cover himself, you directed your steps towards him "What does it matter...I just wanted you to understand your mistake dear." fyodor's eyes narrowed in disdain "I don't need any help-" you slowly sat down on your boyfriend's lap, who was sitting on the chair, and felt his cock start to get wet under his pants. "nnnghh stop it...don't make fun of me"

“If you tell me your wishes, I will not hesitate to give them all to you, my love”

Enjoy!

We are 800 people, thank you everyone for supporting what I wrote^^

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ddarker-dreams · 1 day

Note

Lock I need you to share something about Gojo. Jjk is getting worse with no hope in the future. Plis just a tiny part is god. 🙏🙏🙏🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Detour.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Mild not SFW implications, Gojo and Geto are Not normal about you, exhibiting possessive behavior. Word count: 1.2k.

-Index-

"—Excuse me, miss!"

The exclamation barely registers amidst the crowded street's ambiance. Everyone has a destination they're eager to reach, and you're no different. Unlike those native to the area, however, you're more likely to get lost; hence your current conundrum.

You examine the mess of squiggly lines, blocks, and patterns intended to function as a map.

Kagurazaka, Kagurazaka... c'mon, I know this one... it starts with the kanji for god or something, right?

While you scrutinize the map, the same voice from earlier calls out again, this time beside you. You glance around, not wanting to respond if he’s trying to flag down someone else. In doing so, it becomes increasingly obvious that you’re who he’s been trying to grab the attention of.

From the looks of it, he’s a man in his late thirties, wearing a suit that could use a good ironing. You can’t recall meeting him before. Then again, you’re not privy to everything that happens back on campus. Meetings with influential figures frequently occur without your knowledge. You only ever find out about them later when Satoru loudly voices his critical view on everyone who attended. You are wearing your uniform, it’s recognizable to those in Jujutsu circles.

You’d rather not stir up a scandal by unintentionally snubbing a Zenin or someone equally important. With this in mind, you politely inquire, “Can I help you?”

“That uniform… you’re a high schooler, right?”

You nod, figuring that this confirms your hypothesis.

“What year?”

This question makes less sense. Maybe he wants to know your proximity to Suguru, or, far likelier, Satoru. These types always have their own designs for the pride of the Gojo clan.

“I’m a second-year.”

“I see, I see,” he begins rummaging through his blazer’s inner pocket. He procures a business card and holds it out. “How about a job? From the looks of it, you’d make a good fit.”

You blink.

Are you… allowed to do freelance work? You’ve heard of specific sorcerers being requested for jobs, but that’s always been through the school. Besides, as a Grade Three, you don’t think you can go on unsupervised jobs. Not wanting to seem rude, you reach out to accept the card—

—Only for it to be intercepted.

“Sorry, she’s completely booked,” a voice that sounds the furthest thing from apologetic chimes in.

Gojo Satoru stands to your right, adorned with his circular sunglasses and trademark grin. He rips the card in half without so much as a second thought. You stare at him, incredulous. Questions swarm around your head. When did he get here? How didn’t you notice him until now? Why does his cursed energy have such an unnerving quality to it?

He bends down and hangs his arm around your shoulder. “You’re somethin’ else. Ignoring Suguru and I’s calls, chatting up strange men in Kabukichō… I swear, we can’t take our eyes off you for a second.”

“Wh— I’m not chatting anyone up!” You whisper yell. His infinity nullifies enough for you to jab a finger at his chest. “Why can’t you give better directions?! ‘West of the Edo Castle’ doesn’t tell me anything, it just sounds like a TV drama!”

Satoru shrugs. “Should’ve just asked an auxiliary manager to drop you off.”

“You might treat them like a personal taxi service, but I’d rather not. Taking the train’s fine.”

The man finally overcomes the shock inflicted by Satoru’s audacity, taking a step forward. “What are you, her boyfriend or something?”

“Bleh, no!”

“Future husband.”

Yours and Satoru’s responses come out simultaneously.

“In that case—”

“Excuse me,” A new presence interrupts the increasingly irritated man. Suguru wears a friendly smile which somehow comes across as more menacing than Satoru’s wolfish grin. He places a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You are aware that it’s a minor you’re trying to recruit, correct?”

The man flushes at the accusation. “Listen, I dunno what you’re trying to accuse me of—”

“I’d hate to see you get in trouble for a mistake like that,” Suguru cuts him off again, raising his voice ever so slightly. This attracts the attention of some bystanders. “Who knows what consequences that’d result in, especially for a married man like yourself…”

Huh. You hadn’t even noticed the gold band on his ring finger. Suguru’s nothing if not perceptive.

Nearby commuters whisper amongst themselves while eyeing the scene. The man’s gaze flits between a self-satisfied Satoru and an overly polite Suguru, eventually settling on an escape route. Wordlessly, he departs, although you swear you overhear him muttering ‘crazy kids’ and ‘doomed girl,’ along the way.

“Yo, Suguru. Took you long enough.”

“Unfortunately, not all of us can teleport.”

“Your curse did a better job at tailin’ me than you.”

Ignoring the jab, Suguru dusts his hands off while honing in on you. “You alright? You weren’t answering our calls.”

“And you’re late,” Satoru whines. He helps himself to searching through your purse, taking your pink Razr hostage. “Huh. Battery’s dead.”

Suguru appears content. “What’d I tell you?”

“If she’s blocked me before, the same could happen to you.”

“I wouldn’t block Suguru.”

“She wouldn't block me.”

This time, it’s you and Suguru who speak concurrently. Satoru pouts, putting his hands up like he’s under attack (which he probably believes himself to be). You snatch your phone back without issue, unlike when he last stole it. He unblocked himself and dangled it above your head until you promised you wouldn’t do that again.

“And here I was, about to treat you both to pastries,” Satoru sighs, melodramatic as ever.

“While we were waiting for you, I noticed creampuffs and macaroons on the menu; which would you recommend?” Suguru inquires, not bothering to acknowledge Satoru’s complaints.

“That depends on what you want from the experience,” you mimic his decision. “Creampuffs tend to be one flavor, whereas macaroons come in multiple, so the variety’s nice. When I get a variety pack, I always end up disliking one of the flavors and wishing I’d just gotten my favorites instead.”

Satoru sighs as loud as he can. “Right, right, I’m just a walking wallet. Let’s get going before someone else solicits [First].”

“Eh?” You turn your head to face Satoru. “‘Solicits?’ As in…?”

“Se—”

Suguru slaps a hand over Satoru’s mouth. “What he means to say is that this isn’t the best area for a high school girl to linger.”

“W-Wait, hold on! I thought he was like a… er, how would you say that… sorcerer employer?”

They both stare at you.

“You do know what Kabukichō’s famous for, right?” Suguru tentatively asks.

“Hm? ‘Kabuki’ is a type of traditional theater, isn’t it?”

“...”

“Let’s just show her what we mean,” Satoru bends down, picking up two halves of the business card he split in half earlier. “It’ll be a good lesson. I’d rather not have to come fetch her in this place again— oh.”

Suguru inspects what has the power to shut Gojo Satoru up. You watch as his eyes move back and forth, his face shifting while he does so. His lips narrow into a thin line when he pulls back. Curious, you stand on your tiptoes, hoping to catch a glimpse yourself. Thankfully, there’s yomigana above some of the kanji you don’t recognize. This eliminates any possibility of you misreading the card’s contents.

‘Oh’ indeed, you think. That poor guy…

It’s a business card for the company that oversees AKB48.

#this was so fun to write LMAOO #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #gojo x reader x geto #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #reader insert #golden girl #my stuff #answered #cecii22me

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li0nn3stuff · 2 days

Text

Kiddo

Chapter six

Kiddo masterlist

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader

•Chapter warnings: obsession, stalking, talking of bullying, fingering•

“Have you seen him?” The girl says excitedly to her friend, looking at the new year boy.

“Yes! What do you think happened to his eye?” She responded giggling.

“I don’t know, but whatever it was, if it left such a scar, it must have been really bad.”

“I kinda like the eyepatch though, it makes him sexy…” The girl smirked as she looked intently at the boy with silver hair passing by the hallway.

“Oh, he’s hot. I would totally fuck him.” The girl smirked in return.

“I’d rather have him fuck me. I have a feeling that he is crazy good.”

Two months after the encounter.

Aemond smirked, looking at his phone, his girl had been texting a lot, since they’ve been friends.

Surely, it’s not how he would have liked to have her, but if nothing, Aemond was patient.

He had his own plan to get his girl only to himself.

On his side, he had his advantage.

She kept texting him about douchebags making fun of her at school.

Some, that he would have loved to rip apart with his bare hands.

Like the guy that was on a date with her, or the girls she was with the day he first saw her. They just wanted to humiliate her somehow. He reassured her with his own stories, advising her how to act on those occasions.

All lies.

He was the popular boy when he was young, despite what he feared as a child, when his scar was still fresh, his marked face brought him nothing but popularity and girls.

Boy’s feared him, the mix of his stoic face, scar, and powerful family apparently intimidated the others.

He lost his virginity pretty soon, and he never stopped fucking ever since, his last year in high school he even fucked in the teacher room, without getting caught.

He fucked a teacher once.

He was a fucking king in in school. He was the one humiliating others whenever he wanted to.

But she didn’t need to know that, did she?

He was only doing her a favor, offering er his comprehension, his help.

There was no way she could find that out anyway.

-I could come to visit you at work?-

He smiled at the new text on his phone. God, she was just perfect.

Aemond was her only friend, and that always made her so eager.

She texted him a lot, day and night, she asked to see him more than one time a day, and if he couldn’t, she then asked if she could facetime him, or at least call him.

He liked the calls, he had the freedom to be hard rock or even fisting his cock as she spoke. He rarely accepted video calls, but sometimes he took the risk, she was just so innocent, he could do everything anyway.

“There were a few tomatoes.” She smiles happily as she turn her phone to show him her little garden, bending down to get at the same level of the plant, making the cleavage her large chemise more evident, he caught a glimpse of her bra, holding those breasts he would want to squeeze in his hands, as he slipped his cock between–

“Can you see?” She asked excitedly. He cleared his throat and nodded, as he brushed his cock with his hand.

“Yes, I can see.” He answered. She smiled even more and stood back up.

“Rory says he wants a salad with my tomatoes.” She says as she looks down to walk without stepping on any plant. Rory was one of her foster brothers, he was five, and greedy.

“Of course he does.” He answered as he carefully unbuttoned his pants, drawing down the fly. He sighed silently, when he didn’t have his breeches restrain his cock.

She chuckled at his remark, looking up at the phone, at him. He felt a rush of adrenaline, lust, going up his spine then straight to his cock, at her looking at him, oblivious of his actions.

“I could bring you some salad at work for lunch, if you want to.” She proposed.

“Mh… What are you wearing, you could get your clothes dirty in the garden.” He slipped his hand in his boxers, caressing directly his cock, letting out a small groan.

“Don’t worry, today I just came to check.” She raised her phone up her head, so her entire figure would be visible on the screen. She was wearing a big white men's button down shirt, and a long wavy white skirt. Her hair was loose and wavy due to the braids she kept during the night.

“So what do you say?” She asked again. Looking at him.

“Another time, kiddo. Tell me about your day.” He leaned back in his chair, his office door was locked, but it was early anyway, so he tugged his boxers down as she started speaking.

-You want so much to see me at work?-

He texted back, smirking to himself. He would have loved to show her around, his pretty girl, have her watching him while he works.

Smell her scent in his office, her real scent, not that vanilla shit he bought.

-You say you work in a high lever of one of the skyscapes, I want to see it! :) -

She texted quickly back, and he chuckled, his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment. Did she light the height? He could have brought her to the heavens, if she would just ask him.

-You’re supposed to be at school, kiddo, why are you texting me?-

-Texting you is funnier.-

He groaned as he saw her text, putting aside his phone, and trying to force himself to ignore the urge to go to her school, find her class and fuck her on her table with the whole class looking at them.

He could picture it so well.

How she would ask him to go somewhere else because she’s shy about her body, and mostly because she doesn’t want to be seen or heard.

She would beg him so sweetly, looking at him with her eyes, glossy from tears. And how could he have stopped at such a sight?

-So? Can I come visit you?-

His phone turned on at her text. He looked at it for a while, then he decided to finally text it to her.

-My place is at a higher level. You want to come there?-

He could feel his heart in his throat as he stared at his phone screen. When she started typing, he felt like fainting.

-Deal, time?-

He wanted to jump from his chair and scream. He had her.

He was going to have her in his apartment.

He chuckled, thinking of how he could turn this story into some kind of Raperonzolo’s story, lock her in his apartment, maybe even tied to his bed.

So he could worship her naked body from the moment he came home, untill he left, first with his tongue, then his fingers, and then he would finally fuck her to madness.

He honestly didn’t know why she trusted him.

He was only getting worse since he met her.

He stalked her less, that is true, but only because she gave updates to him herself.

To be fair, he kept stalking her the first few days, but only to be completely sure his girl would never lie to him.

And she never did.

Because she was his perfect good girl.

He was trying really hard to wash the smirk away from his face as he drove to her school. He just couldn’t.

He was going to have her in his apartment, just him and her.

He risked a hard on every time he thought about it, his mind playing infinite scenarios of how he could take her, trick her, use her, and she wouldn’t even realize it, she would think it’s completely normal.

He had to take lots of deep breaths, in order to contain all those freaky, but tempting thoughts.

He will be kind, gentle.

Just for her, he could do it.

Well, he could try.

He hoped.

He parked close to her high school and texted her that he was waiting for her describing his location so it would have been easier for her to find him.

He saw her approaching him a few minutes later, and he leaned to open the passenger door for her.

As much as he would have liked to get out of his car, greet her with a small kiss on her head perhaps, he couldn’t risk it.

His… unusual appearance always made him pretty noticeable, he wouldn’t want anyone to remember him, nor recognise him.

She quickly slipped inside his car and sat on the passenger seat. Smiling softly at him.

“Ehy.” She said, looking briefly at him. He furrowed his eyebrows, confused by her eyes, that had a hint of sadness in them.

“What happened, kiddo?” He asked, feeling a hint of rage burning in his chest at the idea that she had probably been bullied again. She shook her head as she put on her belt.

“Can I tell you later? I– I just want to go away from here…” She mumbled, her cheeks already getting red from embarrassment. He hesitated a moment, looking at her, unsure if to insist or just drive off.

He sighed and looked away, turning on the engine and driving off.

“I… suppose your day at school was not easy.” He muttered, glancing at her. She was staring outside the window, enjoying her view.

“No, actually not, it wasn’t.” She said softly.

“Tell me what happened.” He didn’t want it to sound so much like a harsh order, but apparently, he just couldn’t help it.

“It just feels strange to tell you in person now…” She tried to switch the main subject. “I’m so used to telling it to you by phone or call, it seems almost… strange in an intimidating way to tell you now in person. “ She explained. Aemond sighed as he nodded, trying to be comprehensive, even if he just wanted her to just tell him what happened. He drove off a bit faster, trying to get home as quickly as he could.

She was wearing one of her usual skirts, white, long to her ankles, and a thigh white shirt, but with a black cardigan over it, some black boots at her feet.

He wanted to put his hand on her thigh, squeeze it, and feel the softness on her skin.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked then, his eye constantly on the road, he won’t force her to talk now, he will do it in his apartment, when she’ll be more comfortable.

“Whatever you’ll like will be fine.” She smiled softly at him.

“Would you rather order a take out?” He asked then, and he saw with the corner of his eye that she shook her head.

“Oh, no, why? We can cook for ourselves!” She said he could hear the excitement in her voice. “Oh, well, if you… I mean, we can go buy groceries if we need to, or–”

“No, it’s fine, I have everything.” He cut off short.

“Then we can cook, we can make something basic, quick… I’m already hungry.” She smiled and chuckled. He nodded, his mind picturing them cooking.

Like a couple.

She would be by his side, chopping some vegetables, he would pass behind her, tease her with some kisses on her neck, pressing her against the counter.

He would press his head against the back of hers, looking down as he pushed his hips against her, letting her feel how hard he was for her. She would whine sweetly, so innocently, as he would start grinding against her, his hands quickly wrapping around her, caressing her belly and going down to–

“Even pasta is fine.” She said again, leading him out of his thoughts. He cleared his voice as he moved on his seat, adjusting his position, as he felt his cock twitch.

“Pasta it is.” He agreed. She smiled again and went back on looking outside her window, as they approached his building. He parked the car and led her inside to the elevator. He didn’t try to stay too close, nor wanted his doorman to suspect anything, especially, because it would be the first time he saw him get in his apartment with such a girl at such an early hour.

Thankfully, she was too engrossed with the luxurious hall to actually talk to him, so they could pass for almost strangers, but then he led her to the elevator.

“What floor are you on?” She asked curiously, looking at the amount of buttons in the elevator, hovering her finger over them.

“Twenty two.” He said, and let her push it for him.

“It must be quite a view!” She said surprised, turning to look at him. His lips curved in a somewhat smile, as he nodded.

“Yes, it is indeed.” She smiled softly and waited for the elevator doors to open, jumping up and down on her tiptoes, impatient.

Once they got there, they entered his apartment.

“Wow!” She immediately commented.

His house was quite modern, most of the walls were wide windows that gave a sight of the city, an open space for his living room kitchen and dining room, his bed and bathroom separated by a hallway. His house was modern, luxurious and elegant.

“Do you live here?” She asked as she watched around, mesmerized by the place.

“I do.” He asked, pleased by her reaction. She stopped and looked at him.

“It’s lovely. shall we cook now?”

As they ate, he tried to make her feel as comfortable as he could in his own house. Small chats were not really his thing. Chatting wasn’t his thing, unless it was for business.

“What happened today at school, kiddo? You still haven’t told me.” He asked as they moved from the table to the couch.

“It’s embarrassing.” She admitted as she rubbed her arm and sat on the couch in front of him.

“You’re embarrassed of telling me?” He raised his eyebrow, looking at her. “You can tell me anything” He sat back comfortably against the arm of the couch. He looked at her as she looked down and started playing with her fingers.

“We had a different lesson today at school…” She starts, and he calmly looks at her, letting her take her time to tell him. “We– we had a lesson about sexual education, and–” She took a deep breath, as Aemond felt that hot feeling on his chest again, anger.”Some of my classmates looked at me, laughing quietly, I– I don’t know, exactly why… but…” She paused again, and kept playing with her fingers.

“But?” He asked, leaning forward.

“But I–I think I can guess why? I– I mea, I’m not… really uhm– I have never.. I’m not familiar with… touch.” He felt like chuckling, but he dared not, especially considering the color of his girl’s face at the moment, red as a tomato.

“Touch. Touch like…?” He asked, a bit confused. She quickly shook her head.

“No, I mean, I obviously get touched! I–” She sighed and shyly put her hand on her arm, trying to prove herself.

“Sexual touch?” He asked then, staring at her hand on his arm. He heard her gasp, and he raised his gaze at her, seeing her so red, he thought she would pass out.

“... yes…” She answered, ashamed.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know, kiddo?” He looked at her and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You just need the right man, when you’ll feel ready.”

“I can0t really trust someone now, can I? I– I mean, I would like to… try new things, kiss someone maybe, but… how, how can I find the right person? You’re the only one I trust!” She pressed her hand on her face, and he smiled briefly.

“If you trust me, I can… help you?” He suggested. He knew she would have never thought bad about what he just said, but he had a clear plan in his mind. She looked at him between her fingers, surprised.

“Help… me?” She repeated.Aemond nodded again.

“You said you trust me.” He stated, and she nodded again, taking her hand off her face. “Then trust me now. Come, kiddo.” He sat right on the couch, and widened his legs, indicating her to sit between them. She looked at him for a moment, trying to understand if he really expected her to do it or not, but seeing his seriousness, she slowly stood up, and moved with her back in front of him, looking behind her as she sat on the couch between his legs.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want to, okay kiddo?” He murmured in her ear from behind. He saw on the back of her neck and shoulders her goosebumps. “Just know… I’m doing this for you.” He put his hand on her shoulders, caressing her softly, letting his fingers trace imaginary lines on her soft skin, enjoying the contact for himself. He went down to her forearms and arms, ending on her hands.

She turned her head to the side to see him, her mouth slightly parted.

“Answer me, kiddo, I need your words.” His voice hoarse, as he intertwined his fingers with hers.

“O–okay…” She nodded as she uncertainty leaned her head back against his shoulder.

“This fine for you?” He asked as he kept brushing her fingers up and down her arms. She nodded again, closing her eyes. He slowly moved his fingers from her hand to her thighs, just caressing her from over the skirt.

He heard her take a deep shaky breath.

“I’m gonna show you how a man should make you feel, kiddo, okay? If he doesn't, you'll leave them.” He ordered in her ear. She looked again at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

“You can trust me, kiddo, I’m just helping you, you know?” He slowly started raising her skirt. “I’m doing you a favor.” He kept repeating, as he lifted her skirt over her thighs, as she kept staring at him.

“Wh– what do you want to do? Aemond– I…” She started breathing heavily, squeezing her thighs together.

“It’s okay, kiddo, just close your eyes, you’ll feel good, I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” He brushed his lips against her ear, and he felt her shiver. He carefully wrapped his arms around her waist to bring her closer to his chest.

He looked down at her thighs, so soft and thick.

He brushed his hands over them, keeping his other arm secure around her waist.

“Relax, kiddo.” He whispered, as he slipped his hand between her thighs, finally.

He could feel his cock twitch in his breeches, begging for attention, touch. He groaned and ignored his urges, concentrating on her.

He slowly opened her legs, so that he could move his hand more freely, she didn’t resist him, she completely trusted him.

She shouldn’t be.

“Do you like this?” He asked as he looked at her face, her eyes closed. She pressed her lips together and nodded, her hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

“I’m going to make you understand why people like to touch each other, okay? Will you let me?” He asked as his fingers briefly brushed against her panties.

White cotton, like boxers for girls.

It was so different from all the other panties he had always seen, lace, lingerie, thong.

He always hated unsexy undergarments, yet, the sight of it only increased her sweet innocence, and turned him on even more.

He pressed his thumb against her clothed bud, making her jump back against him, he tightened his arm around her waist and kept her still.

“Shh, shh it’s okay, you like this, it’s okay.” He groaned as he kept pressing his thumb on her bud, slowly moving it from side to side.

“Aem– It’s strange, I– What…” She mumbled as her breathing only grew heavier.

“Calm down kiddo, enjoy it, you like it.” He kept repeating as he kept moving his thumb on her. She threw her head back on his shoulder again, letting out a strangled whine, her hand opening and grabbing his thigh, digging his fingers on his skin. He smirked as groaned softly.

“You like this, kiddo, just relax.” He moved his hand away, and he played a moment with the band of her panties, slowly moving his fingers beneath it, so she could have the time to stop him.

She didn’t, she didn’t, and there was no way he would have stopped now.

He was going to take what belonged to him.

He traced the line of her slit, as she squirmed a bit, whining.

“It’s okay, kiddo, I got you.” He pressed a kiss on her temple, as he moved his fingers again over her slit, feeling how his fingers were getting wet. He smirked again and kissed the top of her head. He pressed his thumb on her bud, as he kept working one of his fingers over her entrance, just teasing her, despite how much he wanted to slip it in, feeling how tight she was, her untouched walls struggling to accommodate one of his fingers.

“You're ready for more, kiddo? Do you want more, more pleasure?” He whispered in her ear. Ste turned her head and opened her eyes, looking at him with her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes shining due to the tears gathering in them, her breathing growing irregular and heavier.

“Aemond… this is strange…” She whimpers as she squirms again, trying to escape the pressure of his thumb on her pearl.

“You want me to stop?” He asked. “You like this, so why do you want me to stop, mh?” He slipped his finger inside, just half of it, and she moaned loudly, surprised, grabbing his arm with both of her hands, holding onto it for dear life, as she kicked her legs, but his arm wrapped around her waist kept her secure against him.

“Aemond– Oh–” She moaned again as he slowly started to move it in and out, not pushing his finger in completely.

“Lay back, enjoy kiddo.” He pushed her back against his chest, and she bent her head back further, her legs bending and opening wider by themselves.

“Aemond… please, it’s so strange–” She let out a choked moan, arching her back. He smiled at seeing her so out of control for a mere finger, his mind wandering, imagining how she would scream if it would have been his cock instead.

“You do not like it?” He looked closely at him, how her face contorted at every single move of his finger. She shook her head. “Use your words, kiddo, I want to hear it.” He ordered, speeding up the movements of his fingers, pushing it deeper, searing for that sweet spot inside her. When he saw her moan again and tried to close her legs, he knew he had found it. She moaned again out loud, her mouth open as she tried to breathe in.

“Say it, kiddo. Tell me. Do you like this or not?” He placed his other hand on her knee, opening her legs again.

“Aemond…” She whined as she turned her head, pressing it against his chest, as she clenched her hands on his shirt, desperately trying to hide herself.

“Stay with me, kiddo, tell me what you feel.” His hand kept working that spot inside her, as his thumb bruised against her pearl, he felt her walls clenching on his fingers.

“I…” She cried out as she tried to hide her face further in his chest. “It… it feels… good.” She moaned again.

“That’s right, it feels good mh?” He groaned as she squirmed again and her body rubbed against his cock. “Fuck–” He growled, he was hard rock, and despite his cock was yearning attention, e was trying to only concentrate on him, even if it was fucking hard.

“Aemond… it feels really good– but so strange, please… I– I don’t know what’s happening… I feel so tense, ah!” She started squirming uncontrollably, her face red, and shiny by a soft layer of sweat as her walls spasmed around his finger, as she came in a loud moan. Her breathing fast, irregular, her face relaxed, her body limp, resting completely on his. He moved his fingers for a few more moments, trying to help her riding out her strong orgasm, but he stopped as he saw a hint of discomfort on her face. He slowly pulled his fingers out, as she rested her face on his chest, her eyes closed, he licked his fingers.

Sweet, pure nectar.

“You okay kiddo?” He asked once he had cleaned his fingers completely. She let out a sweet noise, and he smiled, closing her legs and pulling down her skirt, he pulled her to him, her legs over his thigh as she kept her face pressed on his shirt.

“You were beautiful, you know?” He kissed the top of her head, leaning back on the couch.

He was aware that his excitement was more than evident, and that she could see it, but even feel it against her side, but he did nothing to relieve himself.

Not yet.

Not now.

Maybe in a few minutes?

Tag: @zenka69 @blaustappen @julczimozart @diannnnsss @i66cilla @queenofthekeep @summerposie @tssf-imagines @vaylint @sweet-nothings-s @esposamultifandom @av989436751 @ladythornofrivia @xcinnamonmalfoyx @deliaseastar @kotadislikesthissite @nebulamorada @madelynwalt @shari-berri @seraphdayiwah @witchy-jadda @odeioemail @alphard-hydraes-blog @isntitdelicatevivi @famousrebeldaze @ssnapsaurus @paigeestrawfordd

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i-cant-sing · 3 days

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Thinking about my own grandpa and how he'd comfort me with sweets/icecream whenever i had the slightest inconvenience and i just dream of whether he'd still do it to me as a 23 year old, ruffling my hair, letting me cut his birthday cake, scolding my parents when they got mad at me (yes i snitched on my parents), wiping my fat tears with his handkerchief, showing me his drawings of airplane engines as cold air blasted through the ac, letting me eat food from his plate that my mom made me bring him lol.

and like it grandparents are sooo sweet man. they couldve been okay-ish parents to their own kids, but then they get grandkids and they're like a whole different species *sniffle* theyre so precious.

and now my mind goes to that yandere todoroki clan au (i think it was the bullied series) where at the end, reader dies because of rei, and the whole fam loses their sanity. then one day, reader is reincarnated (its her quirk) as dabi's baby and dabi shares the news with his siblings because he needs to restore their sanity too (cause he feels responsible for them too, the "eldest kid" syndrome).

anyways, after you, his daughter had died, enji lost it and killed rei and then just vanished into the mountains to mourn his loss. years later, for whatever reason, he finds out about you. he's standing there, watching toddler you looking at him with curiosity. you stumble towards him, and Enji's on his knees at this point, he's in shock. your scars, your marks from your previous life dont even register to him until later on, all he can focus is you- its you, his baby. his daugher. his child that he swore to protect and failed.

your legs give out when you reach him but your hands reach for him and enji's already lifting you up, bringing you to his chest. his eyes are filled with tears as u look at him and babble, your hands grabbing onto his shirt, touching his face, big doe eyes staring at him.

he hugs you, silent sobs wrecking his body as he gets a whiff of your head. you- you smell just like her- like his daughter.

It really is you.

he doesn't let go of you, even when you eventually fall asleep in his arms, rocking you gently as he stares down at you in awe and disbelief. he doesn't let you go even when dabi tries to take you back, even when dabi insists that he won't keep you two apart, that you need to rest in your bed as he explains everything.

he finally let's you go when you wake up and reach for your dad (dabi), crying when enji doesn't let you leave his arms. but he relents, enji relents when you cry- it hurts him so bad, he's reminded of all the times how you used to cry before, how you used to beg him for help, beg him to save you. his heart breaks to see you like this, in tears.

enji's only partially conscious of what dabi is saying to him, explaining to him that you're now "his" daughter and enji's "granddaughter" and that's how things will be if they need to work. But enji doesn't care whether you're his daughter or not, all he cares about is that he's in your life because he needs to- he will keep you safe. He won't make the same mistakes again. Never.

i can just imagine the siblings and enji all sitting down together to make decisions about your life in extreme detail so that they ensure that no harm befalls you ever again, and if by some extreme badluck you die, they need to make sure that you reincarnate back to them.

they plan your every day, they make sure that at least one of them is with you at all times, and most importantly, they make sure youre safe and happy. when you start going to school, you're taken to school by Shotou because Dabi (who went back to working as a chef) has to go to work early. then at school, your teacher is more than likely Fuyumi (and if she's not your teacher, then she still works at your school). then after school, you're picked up by Enji who takes you out for ice cream (always, he doesnt care if its before u have had lunch. he needs to make up for all the times he couldnt give u ice cream because of rei) and also buy you any toys u want. enji is just enjoying you padding away and pointing at things that catch your eye. at home, natsuo has returned from his shift at the hospital and then starts heating up the food dabi had already made for you, before letting enji put you down for nap time. when you wake up, natsuo takes your vitals and a basic medical check. by dinner, dabi is home and you welcome him by launching yourself at his legs with a thud. he laughs, picks you up and pecks your cheek before taking you into the kitchen with him to make dinner while you tell him all about your day.

#yandere todoroki clan #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi #yandere endeavor #yandere todoroki family #yandere todoroki #yandere shotou

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bubblergoespop · 2 days

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My Top David Quotes

i need this man to hold me while i cry

“Oops.”

“If I gave Milo less than a full month to plan out his outfit, I’m sure he’d kick my ass. If he could reach it.”

“This is omega shit, I’m not built for this.”

“Oh god they’re gonna pet me, oh fuck I didn’t think about that. I’m not some house dog I don’t need— [melts at angel petting him]”

“Is my Angel mad at me?”

“Call me that one more time and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“If I’m not good enough then go find someone who is, see if I care. No. You know what, no fuck that. I do care. I love you.”

“What? He doesn’t even drink tea, he drinks coffee what are you talking about?”

“Your words carry weight with me, no matter how much or how little you talk.”

“I will not participate in your little gossip session. I am the pack alpha, I have to be above that kind of shit… but yes Amanda and Christian are definitely fucking and yes it is definitely going to get very awkward.”

“No I won’t be able to talk, I become a fucking wolf. I can only make wolf noises..”

“I know I can be rough and nasty. […] But I just need you to know that, no matter what, I have never regretted being with you for a second. I’m proud to call you my mate.”

“He would have loved you, you know. You would have made him laugh.”

“Alpha privileges.”

“You make him happier than I’ve ever seen him before. And he deserves that. So thank you. For taking care of him. [Asher singing in background] Is he…? Oh god, never mind. He doesn’t deserve anything.”

“That phrase is perfectly common, shut up. But… keep talking. Because I like your voice, you snot, and I missed hearing it.”

“You cannot tell when I need something… who am I fucking kidding? Yes you can.”

“I want to fuck you into this bed so hard that the frame breaks underneath us, and then fuck you into the floor even harder.”

“I love my pack but there isn’t a half decent cook in the entire group. [if you listen very closely you can hear Milo’s feral growling in the background]”

“No, I don’t like it when you hold me. Or when you nuzzle my neck. [proceeds to whimper]”

“Those sounds are for me.”

“There’s not much in this world I’d get on my knees for. But for you—always.”

“Where's the troublemaker? Out looking for a bear to fight one on one or something?”

“You’re one of my best friends, Milo. You’re family. And I’m very grateful for you.”

“You hold my heart in your hands, Angel.”

“God, you’re as bad as Ash. Sorry, don’t let me rob you of credit. You’re much worse. I love you too.”

“After all, who am I to say no to my Angel?”

“What am I gonna do with you?”

“Sappy. Yes you are. You’re my sappy, sentimental thief.”

“[scoff] You missed.”

“When I’m with you, I’m not an Alpha. I’m not a friend, I’m not a competitor, I’m… I’m David. And I thought I’d lost him a long time ago.”

“Tell me you didn’t just call that Pokemon ‘Daddy’.”

“Drive safe.”

“I want it to be whatever you want it to be.”

“Breathe. Relax into it. I’ve got you. It’s almost all the way in..”

“Tearing through clothes is fucking hot.”

“And to think, some people believe you’re nice. I like bite. And history says you do too.”

“It was worth every sleepless night. You are worth everything, angel.”

“I’m yours.”

“You’ve always had a way of being a ray of sunshine in my life, whatever the source of the darkness might be, whether that’s stuff from the outside, or stuff from inside of me.”

“Only if you do…”

“I don’t know if I should kill them or marry them.” (he chose marry them)

“You shouldn't be facing this alone. You're family. You're one of us. We love you.”

“We’ve got five minutes before the food gets here, we’ve done more with less.”

#i’m sorry this has taken way too long #redacted david #bubbler’s top quotes #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted angel

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luvr4rhea · 3 days

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𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒, ! ˚ യ

── in which lando norris and y/n argue because of his surgeon girlfriend keeps neglecting her health﹙ ✸ 𝒅𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝓁𝓈. ﹚ lando norris x surgeonfem!r. angst. hurt. comfort. slight mentions of health decline ARCHIVE ?

The sun disappeared behind Monaco's opulent skyline, bathing the city's busy streets in a golden glow. Tension between two passionate hearts flared like static electricity in one of the opulent apartments overlooking the harbor.

Lando, paced the marble floors of his lavish living room. His eyes, usually gleaming with the thrill of speed, now held a stormy intensity. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw.

Across from him stood Y/N, her expression equally fierce. She was a renowned cardiac surgeon, known for her precision and dedication to her patients. But in this moment, her focus was on the man before her, her partner in both love and life.

"Damn it, Y/N! You can't keep ignoring your health like this!" Lando's voice reverberated through the spacious room, filled with a blend of anger and concern.

Y/N crossed her arms, her dark eyes flashing with defiance. "I don't need you to lecture me, Lando. I know what I'm doing." she scoffed.

"No, you don't!" Lando retorted, his frustration boiling over. "You're running yourself ragged at the hospital, skipping meals, and neglecting your own well-being. You're a cardiac surgeon, for God's sake! You know better than anyone the importance of taking care of yourself."

Y/N's temper flared. "And what about you, Lando? Risking your life every time you step into that cockpit? How is that any different?"

Lando clenched his fists, his gaze locking with hers. "Because I'm not the one who's supposed to be saving lives, Y/N. That's your job. And right now, you're failing at it."

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the chasm between them. But beneath the anger and frustration lay a deeper fear – the fear of losing each other to the relentless demands of their respective professions.

Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant hum of engines from the streets of Monaco. Then, slowly, the tension began to ebb away, replaced by a weary resignation.

Lando sighed, his shoulders sagging as he reached out to gently cup Y/N's face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

Y/N softened, her anger melting away as she leaned into his touch. "I'm sorry too, Lando. I know you're worried about me, and I appreciate it. But I can't just drop everything at the hospital. People depend on me."

Lando nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I know, my love. And I don't want you to. But we need to find a balance – for both of us."

Y/N nodded in agreement, a sense of relief flooding through her. "I guess we can do that."

Together, they would weather any storm that came their way, their bond stronger than ever before. And as the lights of Monaco twinkled in the distance, they knew that no matter the challenges they faced, their love would always be their guiding light.

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mrs-weasley-reid · 1 day

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TEN'S A GOOD NUMBER

Aaron Hotchner x psychiatrist!reader

Sypnosis: After Aaron's traumatizing encounter with Peter Lewis, he's sent to you, but who knew a profiler is the worst patient you'll ever have? Warning: enemies to lovers— ish(?) angst. a dash of fluff. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. went ballistic— it's lengthy, so pace yourself. A/N: loosely follows Mr. Scratch timeline for three seasons.

Monday, May 4, 8:34 AM

Aaron Hotchner sits across from you.

He studies you in every detail like he's about to take an exam, and you're the topic.

The weight of your scribbles—light, almost featherlike. Ink leaves a soft trail of words, a map of your thoughts, your perception of him.

The speed of your hand. Swift and elegant. Each movement portrays a scene in a movie. As if they're telling a quiet story, your story he is yet to unravel.

The way you deprive him of eye contact.

What are you hiding?

Why can't you look him in the eye?

The occasional nod to remind him that you're listening—not like anything's coming out from his end.

In conclusion, just about everything you do, really.

To Aaron, you're a cheat sheet. His way back to the field, to work—the part of his life that cannot be halted despite the need for a break.

"Your hand is heavier," Aaron vaguely goads.

You silently stare at him, waiting for the rest of his thoughts to spill out of his mouth.

"Usually, you write like you're afraid to puncture the paper, but just right now, your strikes are deeper. Your grip on your pen is also tighter. Am I annoying you?"

Creative.

You think to yourself as he rakes his eyes down the canvas of your face, blank and land of nothing but mirroring eyes.

Although you prefer Aaron's comment about your new lipstick and how it makes your skin glow—something about your prospect of finding a lover—fifteen minutes into your session. You didn't peg him as a man who knows his lipstick shades, but you stand corrected as he says coral with the utmost confidence for a man who wears his tie like a choker.

Aaron does it all the time. Every five minutes, he says one thing he's noticed about you and then proceeds to zip his mouth, denying you details about him like you're some hired criminal paid to torture the King's hidden fortune out of him.

And as per your entertainment, you'd do something out of your character to throw him off. If you can laugh at his gullibility, you would.

His goal is to intimidate you. Pressure you. Make you tick like every other serial killer he's encountered. Because he'd really rather be across an unsub than you. Aaron would rather be the one to ask questions and not you. In his eyes, you're no better than a small-town detective ignorantly interrogating a serial killer for a cheap gas station robbery, unaware of the skeletons in his closet.

At this moment, Aaron ponders why he agreed to meet with you once a week only to sit in almost absolute silence for about an hour, then go about his day like he hadn't just wasted minutes of his—and your—life.

It's always the same.

He arrives, flaunts his profiling skills for an accumulated total of twelve minutes, and then sits across you like a rock for the remaining forty minutes.

Aaron could've talked more, but...

He despises you.

Well, not you, per se. He despises the profession, and you just happen to choose it as your career. Nonetheless, Aaron generalizes and includes you on his list.

He finds it unnecessary and a waste of one's valuable time. Presenting a series of well-thought-out facts that he's sure Spencer Reid will enjoy. A list of reasons why talking to a psychiatrist isn't as helpful as people perceive it to be.

Aaron spits the words 'family' and 'friends' for the sake of ease and comfort as if he doesn't flinch at the words 'your father' and his face hasn't been frozen into a permanent stern. Because why talk to someone who doesn't know you when there are people who know you best? He lies through his teeth. He lies to himself.

Then, there's you.

You don't know him enough to trust his lies.

"Profiling me won't get you cleared," you state out of the blue. "This is our seventh session, and you haven't said anything." You add, finally lifting your gaze.

Aaron feels taken aback. He'd never encountered a shrink with such pride at their job—they managed to infuriate him. You infuriate him.

Now that you've granted him the wish—your eyes meeting his—it's having an effect on him instead. One that he wishes he didn't feel creep under his skin, stimulating the anxiety he's worked hard to ignore.

Still, Aaron squares his shoulder, "Nothing is wrong with me," He claims like he's not feeling the pit of his stomach churn with every word. "I'm only here for the formalities." He says.

"Ahh," You deadpan, pulling your eyes down on your clipboard. Hushed scribbles echo in the room. "Is that what you told, Dr. Briar? Or Dr. McCormick? Stiles doesn't seem to remember you at all—"

"They deemed me fit to go back to work, which you don't seem to realize." Aaron cuts you off. He doesn't notice the slight lilt of his voice. How a vein peeked on his forehead as he furrows his brows.

You have an effect on him, and Aaron's in strong denial.

"How?" You lean a bit, propping against your lap. It's the first time he's ever let himself tear out of his 'I don't break' shell. You consider it a crumb of a breakthrough and a laughable stain on your pride.

Challenging his stability—you raise your brows—makes him tick.

A faux frown draws on your face—patronizing, "Did you play a staring contest, and they lost against you?" You notice the little twitch of his eye masked as a blink.

It's a little unprofessional to provoke your patient, but you do, anyway.

This one's been particularly adamant about manipulating you into permitting him back to work like you were born yesterday. You think it hilarious how smug he's been for the past six sessions. It is as if you didn't spend almost half of your life devoted to the study of behavior. Like you hadn't figured out his plans from the get-go.

Profilers. They catch a criminal out of idea of sorts, and they think they can read everyone. It makes you want to laugh while pointing at him.

Aaron stares at you with his usual stoic expression, intimidating eyes filled with unforeseen horrors, and a straight mouth that's no use in your four walls.

He decides then that he hates you with a passion.

You feel a vibration on your wrist, "Would you look at that? Your time's up, Hotchner." You withdraw, straightening your back as you scribble yet another word Aaron is curious to know.

If he only knew you're not really writing anything new about the nature of his mental state or anything legible at all, you imagine Aaron exploding like a stack of case files blown by harsh wind.

But can he blame you when he's given you nothing to write?

"Agent Hotchner," He corrects with gritted teeth. Aaron's jaw clenches as he pierces his gaze through you. His hands intertwined with each other as if he's preventing himself from clawing at you.

You smile at him, "In this room, you're just Aaron Hotchner. A patient. A case." You know the specific word will piss him off, much less the motherly tone you paired it with.

A tactic. Unlike him, you don't need a team of agents to get a rise out of a culprit. The bare idea of you, a stranger who has access to his life on a piece of paper, is enough a stimuli to get an individual aiming at your neck.

"So, between you and me, I think you should start talking if you ever want to fly to wherever city your team wanders in. The longer you take, the less progress we make, and the less progress you make, the more possible that the bureau will assign a new psychiatrist for you." You say nonchalantly, letting his anger lead him right into your trap.

The words float like small fire specks of dust, both dazzling and dangerous to the eyes. Getting assigned to a new psychiatrist is like getting an easy case directly handed to Aaron. However, it also means he'll have to restart his psych evaluation process, and he knows firsthand how time-consuming that is.

"But, then again, who knows? Maybe the next fella will let you slide like the others did. Or you'll have to attend a series of sessions again for a lengthy psych evaluation. I've got friends too, you know? They might do me a favor and make your life more… difficult." You're bluffing. In no way, shape, or form will you jeopardize his health, even if Aaron's the most stubborn patient you have ever met in your lifetime.

His nose flares as he stands up. You know that he's done and murdered you in his mind at the way he's glaring at you with invisible daggers, but you play it well and act blameless.

Aaron marches out of your office with blazing hatred. You watch as he dulls every vicinity he's stepped into like death taking a stroll. A part of you is apologetic to his colleagues. They'll be having one hell of a day.

Retreating back inside your office, you plop on your chair behind your desk as a heavy sigh escapes your lips.

You stare at Aaron Hotchner's patient chart.

"What am I going to do with you?" You ask rhetorically in the air.

Aaron Hotchner is—for you at least—a special case. A case so intricate you had to be careful how you'd tread the water, wary of its fragile ripples.

When Aaron's chart landed on your desk, you immediately knew that he'd be toilsome. He'd make it his goal to skip the talk and jump back onto another case. The same routine he did with his old therapists and psychologist, anyone that was able to write a note and say he's fine when he's really not—never have been for a long time.

You already had enough patients on your plate, but you just couldn't say no to your favorite Italian patient; you only had one. You're the best bureau-mandated psychiatrist. His words, not yours.

Then, again, you never fail to mentally brag about how easily you read Aaron just from his chart, his image, and the first step he took to get inside your office. You read him like an open toddler's book, a piece of cake.

During the first session, you learn how badly Aaron's last case had affected him. The intonation of his voice. The way he'd shake his hand, your hand. His scorn. His fiddling fingers.

It's amazing how he's managed to divert his anger towards you instead of the man who traumatized him.

Melodic ringing snaps you out of your trance.

Aaron Hotchner might just get what he wants.

Sunday, May 10, 11:51 PM

A sniffle tickles your nose as you lay flat on the carpet floor of your apartment.

Your face stings from tear stains, and you muse how horrid you must look after your makeup runs dry. Your chunky heels were still on. In a minute or two, you expect one of your feet to cramp.

The day has been hostile towards you.

The mind, which used to be an oasis of positive thoughts, has gone draught. Sleep begins to blur your vision, and you don't hesitate to let it take over.

Until a bombarding knock jolts you up.

"I'm here! I'm here! Calm down!" You shout as you swing the door open. A familiar man stands in front of you with a dour face. Your eyebrows narrow tightly, "Mr. Hotchner—"

"What did you write?!" Aaron badgers as he storms inside your apartment like he owns the place. He pivots on the balls of his feet once he's reached your living room, glowering at you with scalding fury. "I was relieved to know that you released me from your care and looked forward to my clearance. So, tell me why a random therapist called me this morning to confirm an appointment I didn't even know I had. What did you write on my report that I have to go through this again for the second time? Is dealing with your sick games not enough? I'm fine. I know I'm fine. I'm straight in the head to go back in the field. I aced the psych evaluation questions. Your sessions are the problem. You're the problem." His ears, face, and neck are burning red. If he's a cartoon character, you imagine he'd be steaming with smoke by now.

Quite surprised; you're standing speechless. You're watching Aaron like he's a crazy old hag yapping about the Revolutionary War and how she hates not having the power to shoot every redcoat for the sake of rage.

You head towards your sofa, taking a seat.

Aaron examines you in confusion, furrowing his brows.

After a moment, you look at him expectantly. "Don't be shy, Mr. Hotchner. By any means—" you nod towards the armchair across you, glancing back and forth between him and the empty space "—continue with your thoughts. You already started. Might as well let it all out."

He only clenches his hands inside his pockets as he bores holes into your head.

What a sad little man.

You scoff in your mind.

You lean against the back of the sofa, tilting your head to meet dagger-like brown eyes aiming at you. "No? Suit yourself, then." You shrug, feeling the soft cushions under your palms.

"Let me remind you that I'm a federal agent, and I can make your life a living hell if I want to." He threatens, glaring at you as if the twitch of his eye is enough to make you combust into thin air.

But all you see is a child on a tantrum, deprived of getting what he wants.

"Answer my question. What. Did. You. Write?" He growls.

Silence coats the two of you.

His heavy breathing fills the deafening air. Your nonchalance fuels his hatred more than ever and the sentiment is beginning to emit from both ends. It takes a lot out of you to think of multiple ways to sprinkle some salty sense onto him without stinging his wounds.

One thing you learned well enough in time is how good Aaron is when pushing someone's buttons. A perk of his prosecutor days and seasoned by his bureau career.

He's just troubled.

He's just in denial of his own pain.

You chant the words in your head—uncertain of its purpose. Detachment ironically detaches from your senses like old velcro.

"You're not the first agent in my office, Mr. Hotchner. And frankly, you should be thanking me for taking you in. Unlike your old therapists, I actually read through your chart and took the time to understand you to the best of my ability. I cared—" Shocked as he is, your eyes subtly widen.

Before you can continue Aaron speaks over you, "I do not care about your pity. What I wanted was for you to do your damn job and clear me back to work. But that's just little to no pay for a shrink, isn't it? You need messed up people to stay messed up so they can continue knocking on your door." A clear hint of a demeaning smirk flashes across his face.

The sheer irreverence makes you dizzy. The calm snaps, banishing kindness and composure out the window. And rage knocks on your door.

"That's the problem. You don't care. You don't care about yourself." Your tone is sharp—stern.

You knew. You knew from the moment his file thudded on your wooden desk. The moment SSA David Rossi charmed his way to get your favor. You know that Aaron Hotchner does what he believes is right. Not because the unit chief title has gotten in his head. No. Not the slightest. But because he only cares about his values and people.

And you're neither.

It's not you to hold grudges. So, you had it down and set before you accepted Rossi's request. You had it tattooed in your mind that no matter how sharp-tongued and insensitive the man before you might be, he's still just a man under the weight of the world's greatest horrors.

You cannot break. You're not allowed to break.

Pieces of you shatter at the realization that some patients under your care inevitably slip away from your fingers. How your promised oath to do no harm did nothing—not enough to stop the monsters that haunt the world. Not enough to stop you, Aaron's psychiatrist, from dumping your own frustration onto him the same way he's currently doing to you.

But you're not Aaron's psychiatrist today. You're not anything today. You're not on the clock. And no one except Aaron—to your demise—will ever witness such an ugly sight. If ever he shuts up about his dilemma, that is.

"I did my job exactly as I should." You declare, licking the bottom of your lips. Damned the Hippocratic Oath. You wonder if the healing gods will forgive you.

You really shouldn't say the words that are about to leave your mouth, but you've been taking whatever hostility he's got for the last two months; the capacity has reached its limit. A little bit of harshness wouldn't hurt, would it?

"When are you going to admit that the reason you can't sleep at night is not because of all the serial killers you claim I prevent you from catching?" You finally stand. You are a few inches shorter, yet you have never felt taller than you do right now.

You grit your teeth as you move closer to Aaron, almost a breath away, tiptoeing. "When will you admit that the mighty SSA Aaron Hotchner, unit chief, doesn't blink, not once, because he's afraid he'd become the very thing he promised to put away." You raise your brows, challenging him.

Aaron's face morphs into bewilderment and perturbation. His brows are sewn shut. His jawline pops out as he grinds his teeth.

Resentment. Fury. Vexation. Chagrin.

All Aaron felt was anger.

Antagonized.

A walking tower of pure acrimony, finger-pointing towards the innocent.

"Don't you dare compare me to those— I'm anything but." He towers over you, losing his words through the stream of lividity flooding all over his senses.

"Do you really believe that?"

Aaron studies your face. It's different. It's raw and maimed. A squeeze of guilt whispers, but he shoves it quickly.

"What did you write?" He asks once more, earning a scoff out of you.

You step back, staring straight into his glare. Crossed arms tight against your chest. Brows rest over your deadpan eyes.

"While SSA Aaron Hotchner is proficient at his skills and rather placid in physically and mentally challenging situations, I strongly recommend further evaluation in psychotherapy as his emotional capacity is at its limits. The stress accumulated from the job itself has given him little to no time to allow himself the indulgence to properly process certain impacts of the stimulus he encounters on the job. Will update after further observation. Is what I wrote… so far."

You pause.

"Aaron Hotchner is an insufferable, pompous idiot who's afraid of nothing but himself. He is incapable of stepping off his pedestal and refuses to cooperate while complaining about the consequences he himself caused. He has been through enormous trauma. It will be torture to try and help him cope properly. I do not want him in my care as he is a danger to his own progress, and I don't want any part of it. Is what I wanted to write."

Silence.

For him to reflect.

For you to breathe.

Aaron's frozen before you. A pale statue bleached under the moon's harsh reality. Words that used to be superficial insecurities float in the wind of truth, forming into a cage he's sentenced for life.

Your fuse still runs—a long time coming from two months of his deliberate disrespect. The silence annoys you, so you break it. "Excuse my hostility. No one's invaded my privacy and barged into my household at such an unreasonable hour before." The impassive smile on your lips can haunt anyone.

Maybe you've gone too far.

Maybe it's evil to say such blunt things to someone fragile.

But Aaron started the countdown. He lit the fuse. Now, you're exploding right before his eyes, reaping what he sowed. And he's forced to eat up all the debris.

His eyes twitch, scanning your face for any sign of bluff, any sign of fallacy. Any sign that he successfully pissed you off and your words were nothing but overwhelmed impulse.

"I—" he closes his mouth, then agape. Any sign. Aaron will take anything besides the forthright expression on your face. He inhales, "I'm sorry." The sound dies before it can roll off his tongue.

It's like watching a bully shrink into the tiniest man who's ever lived.

Okay, maybe you were a little bit brutal.

You gulp as guilt creeps along your veins, wishing that someone out there would just do you both a favor and snipe you out before the embarrassment settles.

Drawing in a gentle breath, you take another step back from Aaron with a delicate voice, "You're not starting a new evaluation, but you're not done either. I transferred you under someone else's care because of personal reasons. My life doesn't revolve around you, Mr. Hotchner. So, if you have nothing else to say, go home." Your eyes drift to the vast selection of objects in your living room to diffuse the growing pity you can't help but harbor.

Only then does Aaron discern his impulsivity. Internally arguing with himself as he allows himself to look at you. One thing he's never done since the moment he met you with screwed brows and unwavering bias. His gaze instantly softens like a thick fog around him finally dissipates. Like he's achieved a clearer vision.

The first thing he notices is the state of your face. The dry mascara that drew faded stripes down your cheeks. Your puffy eyes are now faint pink, but he recalls them being red when he arrived.

Then Aaron brings his attention to your black dress. It's a simple formal, mesh midi dress, but he admits how it elegantly fits you. But he doesn't say it aloud because there's only one reason why you'd wear such an article of depressing clothing.

As if your words and his own realizations aren't enough, he gets a glimpse of the clock on your wall that reads 12:03 AM.

His blood suddenly stops flowing—skin clammy and pale. Aaron's lightheaded from guilt and penitence.

Without another word, you lead him towards the door, swinging it open. The past 24 hours already drained you, and Aaron just about made it fifty times worse. All you wanted was to get a shuteye.

Aaron swallows the shame and makes his way out. Before he leaves, though, he turns to face you once more. Genuine curiosity pinches his brows.

"Why didn't you just clear me out like the others did if I was such a difficult case?" The word tastes bitter in his mouth. What used to be a desired flavor turned rotten on his palette.

He asks with utter softness, leaving you skeptical to respond.

"Same reason why you kept attending my sessions even though you clearly hated it." You slightly close the door, only leaving enough space for the two of you to see each other.

He looks at you like the answer's all over your face but written in some foreign language he's not familiar with. Aaron barely opens his mouth when you answer the question in his mind.

"You needed a place where you can just be."

The door shuts.

Friday, June 19, 11:02 PM

"I didn't know where to go."

You pore at Aaron Hotchner with nothing but a flimsy robe to prevent his imagination from going rampant—and dirty.

It's eleven in the evening. It's been one month since you last saw him. It's been a month since he barged into your apartment like an entitled brat. It's been a month since you let your emotions take over. It's been a month since the two of you revealed parts of yourselves either of you don't dare think of.

A month and no contact.

You didn't wonder; just hoped and prayed that Aaron finally finds it in him to let go of the emotional turmoil that's torturing the soul out of his body.

Sighing, you step aside and let him in, closing the door behind you like it's normal to stop by one's ex-psychiatrist's apartment in the middle of the night without prior notice and, most importantly, without meter to run the minutes he's inconveniencing you.

Aaron walks in, and the heavy humidity of arousal immediately hits him.

Oh.

Well...

If he had something to say, Aaron kept his mouth shut. He is at fault for driving straight to your place like he's your bestest friend. So, he doesn't mention it, ignoring the fact that you're barely clothed.

Besides, after your last interaction with him, Aaron's certain he didn't have any prerogative in how you'd like to spend your Friday evening.

"Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute." Your steps are light behind him—feet nimbly grazing the wooden floor.

He turns to face you but quickly averts his gaze to avoid the glistening sight of your thighs. "Thank you..." He does his best to sound normal, choking in between syllables.

Aaron begins to regret his decision. Though, not enough to leave your place.

You disappear in the corner of the hallway. Allowing Aaron to finally release the breath he didn't know he was holding.

With you out of sight, his mind deliberately wanders...

What were you doing?

Aaron shakes his head vigorously like a worm under a storm of salt. The thought is undiscovered—untouched territory, forbidden to be exact. Should he form such thoughts, he'll do it somewhere else or rather about someone else.

Just as he caters to the sudden dizziness caused by his action, a man, half-dressed, walks past him, cursing under his breath and buttoning his shirt. Aaron's eyes widen a little, keeping his stoic face.

Oh, that's what you were doing.

Ick—as Aaron would like to call your visitor—had brown and curly, unruly hair. He was tall and definitely had a face, which, Aaron assumes, is nothing like the one he envisioned you're attracted to.

Somehow not a pleasant discovery compared to what he attempted to imagine—you, alone.

Ick looks at Aaron with a scoff echoing out of his throat, "Oh, what a surprise! She's a slut." He states smugly.

"Or she just wants someone better." The words spill out without hesitation, fired on sight. Aaron doesn't know where the boldness came from as he leans against the seat with a cocky smirk on his face. Definitely no more perplexed than the uncertainty of anger boiling inside of him. He glares at the man either way.

The man scoffs again before leaving with a couple more insults that Aaron thinks he's lucky to whisper, or your visitor would've left your apartment in an ambulance.

Ick slams the door, shaking the vase on the accent chest by the entrance.

Where did that come from?

He's questionably not as big of a hater as he was before, but Aaron can't determine the motivation that made him act the way he just did with a person who has business with you, which he should have no interest in.

Moments later, you come back, fully clothed, in an oversized hoodie and a pair of wide-leg linen pants. Comfy and a 180 contrast on how you dress at work, plus the garments you had on minutes ago.

You make a beeline to your kitchen, "Water or scotch?" You holler out, opening cabinets with a creek on their hinges.

The question is rhetorical. You place a glass with brown liquid glinting under the warm ambient light on the coffee table in front of Aaron, then plop on the armchair across from him, catering your own glass.

He stares between you and the glass while you kiss yours, never breaking your gaze. You hum in delight, making a popping sound with your lips.

Aaron opens his mouth and then closes it, falling into a cycle like a fish underwater. How should he explain himself? How does one explain why they're bothering their ex-psychiatrist past working hours? After making a scene a month ago? He swallows the thick void in his throat.

"Don't talk, just drink. Sit here for an hour. Then, go home." You say, opening up a book that's been sitting on the table since he arrived.

Aaron feels a surge of relief. He reaches for the drink and lets the smoky taste trail down his throat without hesitation. He wouldn't have guessed you as a fan of scotch—or anything not clear or fruity. This is the first he's seen you without some sort of filter he can't read through, and the observation prints you under a new light.

The silence comforts him. The occasional scrape of paper against paper with each flip of a page provides him reassurance. The company he finds within your presence gives him solace.

You let him be. Asked no questions, reading in peace like he was just any other friend who needed company.

He does as you said. Indulging in the hour of tranquility and stillness. His nerves tame. And he forgets why he went to you in the first place.

Why did he go to you?

Of all people. Of all the friends he brags about. The family he cherishes. His feet dragged—drove him to you.

The onerous unit chief chose to wander to your front door, sipping scotch as he enjoyed the silence and absence of others' guilting worry and constant craving to make him feel better when all he wanted was peace and letting the ache pass in gradual acceptance.

By the end of the hour, you call him a cab with the instructions for him to pick up his car the next day.

Aaron slept effortlessly that night.

Saturday, October 24, 9:24 PM

Aaron expected some sort of rejection or for you to slam the door close, or worse, ignore him as soon as you see his face through the peephole.

One can only tolerate a couple of unannounced visits from an insufferable ex-patient, right? He's surprised you haven't called the cops on him.

He skims your face for any sign of irritation or annoyance as soon as you reveal yourself behind your door, standing next to it to give him way. Aaron saw nothing but impatience.

You knit your brows, slightly tilting your head at his frozen build outside the frame of your door. "Well? Are you stuck or something? Get in, Hotchner—" You turn before you can even finish talking, disappearing down the small entryway.

He turns deaf for a moment. Your voice rings in his ears as if a bomb had just popped the only working drum he had left.

Hotchner.

Agent.

Mister—

Just Hotchner.

One simple change, and the light above your head suddenly looks brighter.

Like he's found something good. Something he can say he knows. Something he can trust(?)

"Don't forget to take your shoes off and shut the door!" You holler from the living room—unfazed.

Aaron flinches, snapping out of his trance. He wonders where you'd gone to, furrowing his brows, and yet enters your apartment with the permission you'd given him. He closes the door, pivoting on the soles of his dress shoes as he tentatively takes them off per your instructions.

He emerges back in your peripheral while you stare at the screen on your laptop, blue-filtered glasses back on. Your fingers hammer on the keys, soft sighs slipping past your lips every once in a while.

You glance at Aaron when his figure stays at the corner of your eye, cupping a coffee mug between your hands. "There's fresh coffee if you'd like. Are you hungry? I don't usually eat dinner, so I have nothing ready to eat, but I can whip something up." You blow over the surface of caffeine, and steam wafts on the tip of your nose.

"No—" He shakes his head, scoffing in confusion, "I'm sorry—"

"Apology accepted," You muffle into the mug.

Aaron's brows connect tighter, and his forehead creases. He looks at you like he's under an illusion, a hypnotic dream he can't quite distinguish.

"Hold on," He hoists his hand up as if to pause a scene in the movie. "I'm very confused. What is going on? Why are you being… casual and nice?"

"You say it like I'm incapable of human decency." Your back makes contact with the cushion of your sofa, pulling your legs close to your chest while one hand holds the handle of your mug. You roll your eyes when Aaron only stares at you, "Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to leave?"

Aaron shakes his head.

"Problem solved, then?" Confusion is still fresh on his blank face. You mentally smack your forehead. "There are patients who lack temporal sense, but turning them away when they clearly need immediate tending to would be a form of negligence on my part. So, feel at home." You theatrically stretch your arms, offering every corner of your space as his own.

"But I'm not your patient anymore. I've been back on duty for weeks." Aaron informs. Although he finds a place for his go bag on your floor.

If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he's about to stay for a sleepover—coming to your apartment late at night.

You wrinkle your nose, "Okay?" You look around as if someone else is in the room with you two. "Is that why you went here? You wanted to brag?"

Three months.

Aaron's been back to his usual routine for the past three months. And it's been four since he drank scotch on the very couch you're comfortably in.

A chuckle.

The sound tickles your ears, filling you with unexpected pride.

"No," Aaron shakes his head as the chuckle resonates through his chest. "I… I don't really know why I came here, if I'm being honest." He swallows air.

You nod, setting your laptop back on your lap. "Like I said, you're free to feel at home. Scotch is in the third cupboard. Coffee's in the pot. I've got some stuff to take care of, so help yourself." Your eyes are already fixed on the screen, hands jumping from one key to the other.

With your permission, Aaron ventures into your kitchen. Neat. Clean. Cozy. He somehow imagines you cooking as a hobby.

He settles for coffee. Asking you from the kitchen island if you'd like a refill—which you took without a thought, hoisting your cup up—and taking out a couple of his files to get a head start on his paperwork. He wasn't allowed to bring them outside the bureau's building, but it didn't matter at the moment.

Your apartment becomes a haven.

Aaron, for the first time in years, feels comfortable to slouch. He had no collection of when and how, but turns out he'd changed into a quarter-zip and one of his pajamas tucked in his go bag through the hours.

The two of you silently took care of your own thing until 1 AM strikes, and a yawn pulls you back into the earth.

You turn your head towards the kitchen to find Aaron scribbling over your kitchen island. He's sipping coffee—a fresh batch he made not long ago.

Stretching, you make your way past him. After placing the mug into the sink, you lean against it, crossing your arms as you stare at him. "Ten."

"What's that?" Aaron halts on his seat, lifting his head to look at you.

"I'm granting you ten visits," You announce.

"And that means?.."

Your face deadpans, and he does well at stifling a smile. "You can come here whenever you want—need, but only for ten free visits. It doesn't matter if it's late, too early, or unreasonable. I'm allowing you to knock on my door whenever you need. Any more than that, you have to attend my sessions in my office, where I get paid."

"What's the catch?" Aaron entwines his eyebrows, straightening his back as he props on the edge of the counter.

"No catch. Just one condition," You shift your weight on your other leg, "Don't come empty-handed. Food, drink, things, a person, anything. Bring something." Your brows hang on your forehead, anticipating any type of response.

Aaron weighs his choices. Calculated every possible outcome and benefit. He meets your eyes again. Index and thumb rubbing the growing stubble on his chin.

"Ten's a good number," He says as he nods.

Wednesday, March 2, 7:31 PM

Eleven months pass by in the blink of an eye.

It's the seventh time Aaron showed up without warning, and by this point in whatever acquaintance you two had, you aren't fazed or surprised anymore.

The fourth time he knocked on your door, he was carrying a hefty price of whiskey. An odd reason for a psychiatrist and a former patient to bond with, but you had no qualms about sipping neat whiskey that night.

At first, he stayed for an hour. Then, an hour turned into three. One time, a case hit too deep, and three became seven, but that only happened once—all you remember was a Wednesday night.

"Are you okay?"

Gentle sighs escape shivering lips. Tears pooling deep inside sockets.

One sharp sniff breaks it all.

You sob under Aaron's worried eyes as your grip on the knob almost snaps it off the door.

His brows twists and he reflexively yanks you by the back of your head into his chest, bringing you out of your apartment and into the complex's hallway.

"What happened?" He carefully inquires while he rests his chin atop your head.

You're a mess in his arms. Uncontrollable whimpers muffled in his soaked chest.

Aaron suggested that you two step inside for more privacy and heat, but he didn't complain when you two stayed frozen in the end of winter evening.

When it stops. The suffocating ache. You lightly push yourself off him, wiping the leftover tears off your cheeks—half of it already dampened his shirt.

Fifty-three minutes and seventeen seconds.

You cried to the point of dehydration.

"Sorry," you mutter, eyes down. "We should go inside if we don't want to catch hypothermia." You sniffle.

"Oh, we don't want that," Aaron attempts to joke, closely observing whether you'd react to it.

You didn't.

He closes the door behind him, following your figure as you practically drag yourself to your unofficial designated spot on the sofa.

"I know I'm the last person you'd want to hear this from, but would you like to talk about it?" He bites his inner cheek.

Nothing.

You only mold yourself into a ball.

Aaron hesitates whether to stay or leave you alone. It's true that you said he's welcome anytime, but you're definitely in no condition to entertain his own problems when you can't even look him in the eye the way you would, no matter how insufferable he is.

But he can't just leave you by yourself either. Nothing is stopping him, but he's not cold-blooded enough.

"It's not easy," Aaron fractures out of his trance at the sound of your small voice. You look at him with a tight-lipped smile. "This job, I mean."

You inhale a sharp breath, tucking your lower lip between your teeth. "I can be hopeful, positive, supportive… Everything to prove that a better life is possible, but at the end of the day, it's not my choice." You wryly chuckle. "It's the patient's. It's your decision to want to feel better. To want to change. To want to live—" You choke, and the tears flow once more.

"It's not about me, but I can't help feeling like a failure." Sobs spill off your lips, gasping for air. "I was supposed to make everything better. I was supposed to heal everyone and save everyone from whatever monster was hurting them. She said she's never felt so much better. She said it's the first time she felt so peaceful for years, Hotchner. She said she was looking forward to our next session. But she just… I didn't—" You gulp—struggling. "I didn't catch it. I didn't catch her lie. And hours later, I get a call from her mother telling me she— she died." Your hands shakily clasp your mouth to push the sobs back, but you fail.

Aaron doesn't know what to say.

But he knows what to feel.

He knows it well.

The guilt. The shame of never living up to your own promise. The pain of losing someone you swore to keep safe.

Then, it hits him like a wrecking ball.

How difficult of a patient was he before?

Has he ever made you cry before?

It's a stretch that you'd ever shed a tear over his stubbornness, but Aaron hopes you never did.

Because he's never seen anyone care so much despite getting all the hate. Despite taking all the blame. You stood your ground and became other people's foundation. You became their comfort.

You became the only thing that gave him serenity.

With the little time he's known you—a total of 43 genuine friendly hours—Aaron can testify in heaven that they had mistakenly dropped you into the earth. And he's never felt blessed to have someone like you. Never felt lucky enough to find someone with who he could feel broken as much as he could but never needed to save face.

So, he's heartbroken for you. And guilty that more than half of the time you'd known him, he made your passion a miserable experience.

And also guilty of developing feelings for you.

Saturday, August 13, 4:16 PM

"I'm not playing favorites, but your tech analyst definitely deserves better than being cooped up in the bureau's building." You say, plopping on the sofa with a soft bounce and a squeak from the coil spring.

Aaron hands you a glass of bourbon while sipping his own. Eyes fixated on the board on your coffee table. "I have no other choice. It's the only way to keep her safe. Unless you're willing to adopt her, I don't want to hear it." He chuckles, connecting his brows at the sight of your winning streak.

You two are playing Scrabble. It was Monopoly twenty minutes ago, but along the lines, you learned how butt-hurt a six-foot and two-inch man can get. Not an enlightening experience. It would have been two stars if you had to rate it.

So, you switched to Scrabble.

And Aaron is losing again.

Boy, were you so entertained.

He just came back from a fairly short case from Los Angeles. The case is not heavy or mentally draining—according to Aaron, but Jack's at a two-day sleepover, and Aaron has no idea how to spend the rest of his day—turning down Derek Morgan's and David Rossi's invitation to grab a drink at O'Keefe's with you in mind.

Aaron leans on the back of his seat. You don't know when your reclining armchair became his designated seat, but you noticed how lax he is in it and didn't question it further.

Months and months of relaxing stillness in your home—only ever full of bizarre surprises and irresistible joy whenever Aaron knocks at your door. With no means of communication or ever seeing each other at either workplace, Aaron's visits are welcomed but never fully anticipated. Thrilling.

Spelling the word 'loser' on the board with triple points, you bite the tissue inside your lower lip. "Maybe you can play Scrabble with her. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky and win." You grin smugly at him.

Aaron gapes at you with a mixture of disbelief and merriment. He looks down on the flat entertainment, then back to you as he blinks. "You're cheating." He declares, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

A hearty laugh Aaron's never heard before roars out of you, and it's melodic to his ears. The meringue light spills through the forgotten open blinds of your window, painting your face with a dreamy filter. Aaron feels dizzy at the sight.

Your smile is contagious, and out of nowhere, his heart starts to pick up as if he'd caught whatever illness your radiant lips had by only staring at it. The loose hair over your forehead frames your face differently—different good. Like you'd been glowing, and the watts in your core mysteriously increased, so you're as bright as the sun and as warm as its light.

"You're just a sore loser. Suck it up, Hotchner." You shake with mirth, casually running dainty fingers along the curve of your ear.

"Aaron," He blurts too fast, too soon—too late to take back.

With a nonchalant shrug, you rephrase, "Suck. It. Up. Aaron." Much more emphasis and friskiness.

You tease him more about his lack of greatness in board games compared to his undeniable talent in every case the BAU encountered. But Aaron's already dazed by your lips calling his name.

Without either of you realizing it, 4 PM became AM.

Talk about abusing one's privileges. Aaron's moderately good at that. You conclude he's simply a strutting opportunist.

After the longest winning streak you've ever had in your life, you and Aaron decided to take a much-needed break and fell into silent reading—or, in your case, grooming your schedule for the next five months.

Midnight strikes along the grumble of Aaron's stomach. You two were too quiet. It echoed all over your apartment. Both of you fell into an obstreperous fit of laughter for another hour, stopping for a minute in between only to laugh some more as soon as you met each other's eyes.

Now, it's four in the morning. You're busy munching on Chinese takeout from a 24-hour restaurant Aaron called in. He claims he has handsome privilege courtesy of the owner, which you mockingly laughed at, to his dismay.

"I'm still terrified." He blurts.

The case must've been very difficult, then. He lied yesterday. However, at this point in your friendship, you expect him to do so, even if it's obvious.

You'd long given up on coaxing Aaron to talk about the case that brought him to your office. Or any other cases that got him knocking on your door at the most unreasonable hour. You thought that the best you could offer him was the comfort that no matter how beaten up he looked, you'd ask no questions and let him sort his boggled mind until he was ready to talk about it.

Looks like tonight's the moment. It only took more than a year, so it is not a big deal—to either of you, at least.

He looks at you when you remain quiet, silently asking for your permission. You nod, and he continues, "What Peter Lewis did to me was terrorizing. I always wonder whether I'm making the right decision or sending my agents straight to their deaths. I second guess. I'm scared that a part of him is still in my head, driving me to make a fatal mistake." Aaron starts playing with his food, poking an orange chicken with his chopsticks.

The memory brings a tangy taste to his tongue, and Aaron can't help but cringe. It's the first time he's ever talked about Peter Lewis. Granted, Aaron spoke about the event numerous times but never about how it made him feel. Never how it broke him.

Is it weird to say you're a little proud of Aaron?

Of course, you don't tell him that. Not out loud. You know he knows you're proud of him. And that's enough said.

With a few audible chews—caused by a carrot bit stuck between your teeth—that somehow doesn't piss Aaron off, you swallow the food and draw your lips into a thin line. You place the chopsticks on the side, wiping the rim of your mouth.

You know he's watching you. Anticipatingly waiting for a response for anything other than the silence he's accustomed to.

"Breathe," You gently instruct, clear enough for him to hear but not too loud for Aaron to jump in shock.

And he does.

His shoulder blades rise and fall into a soft rhythm. Aaron was holding his breath, and you knew. Of course, you knew.

"Do you know the purpose of defense mechanisms?" You quiz him, earning a nod from Aaron, and yet no following answer. "You were already mad at me even before we met. And for what? Nothing concrete, I'm sure."

Aaron was about to object, but you raised your hand to stop him, "I'm not trying to attack you. All I'm saying is that rather than being in denial, you displaced your frustration on someone else less threatening—me."

Silence.

"I'm sorry—"

"I'm not done, shush!" You close your fist to mute him, cutting him off.

Aaron subtly rolls his eyes. He started doing so on his fifth visit when Aaron brought Jack and a few video games.

He told you that Jack's heard about your interest in a couple of games and wanted to play with you, but you know damn well Aaron bought the game for himself. Nonetheless, you entertained them by teaming up with Jack and obliterating Aaron. He vowed never to play against you ever again, at least not to your face.

"I would never know the pain and suffering that you went through. And somehow, even with that fact, a part of your life was in the palm of my hand. You had no control, but I did. So, instead of understanding the why, you hated the wrong who. And it's okay."

You take a sip from your straw, and a bubbly sensation fills you. Your tongue glides over your lips as you lean against the counter. "In short, for a man who's been through a lot, you know how to cope." A shrug ends your sentence, grabbing another bite of chow mein on your plate.

"Yeah, right," Aaron scoffs. The sincerity in your voice sparks something in him. It's giddy and tempting. But he can't possibly show the smile that's itching to spread his lips.

But his nonchalance may have triggered something in you because Aaron doesn't expect your next move. His neck felt like a snapped glow stick after you manually turned his head to face you—grabbing him by the space between his neck and chin. Aaron widens his eyes in the process.

"Listen here, you stubborn poopy head." You start, forehead creasing.

Aaron badly wanted to poke fun at your poor, intimidating skills, but he realized you didn't need any pointers just by the glare in your eyes.

"Peter Lewis got to your head, but that doesn't mean you were weak to let him. Yes, you fought through the influence of the drug heroically. Yes, you saved your agents and, most importantly, yourself. But it's still okay to be scared. It's okay that you feel broken. Who says broken things aren't great?"

It might be the sleep deprivation that's hitting Aaron, but he's very much enjoying your little fuse. How your words meant nothing like how you sound.

"That silver watch of yours—" you glance at his wrist "—has been broken for years, but I bet if you pawn it, it'll be more valuable than me. Antiques are expensive because they have unique histories. They survived beaten up, scratched, damaged, but still as beautiful as ever."

You're rambling, explaining more than you need to. Felt obligated to drill in his mind that despite the bad things, Aaron remains good. You're uncertain—clueless—as to why you felt the need to prove his praiseworthy, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself rather than him.

"From my observation, you're a sharper profiler despite all the things you went through. A part of you suffered and died in that house and many houses before. Of course, you'll be broken. You're a human being, Aaron. Act like one for Pete's sake!"

"I don't know whether you're being nice or mean." He chuckles with a mischievous grin, marveling at the way your eyes narrow as you look at him.

"I liked you better when you didn't talk." You tut, rolling your eyes.

For a moment, your senses heighten, and the simple brush of his hand against the skin over your wrist, as he takes your hold off him, sends billions of electricity throughout your body.

Aaron smiles—genuinely. "Thank you," He says softly, clearing his throat. His hand is still tight around your wrist. "You simply could've slammed the door the first time I knocked, but you always let me in. I appreciate you tolerating me."

You laugh, retracting your hands off his skin before you melt in his grasp. "I did not let you in the first time. You barged in like I'm some fugitive." You fix your posture on the stool beneath you, looking away.

His chuckle wakes the butterflies in your stomach, and you shove them right back down by stuffing your mouth with food.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the time, "Y-you better go home and change before your son wonders why his father smells like Chinese food for Sunday brunch. Jack's a big fan of good 'ole syrupy pancakes, there's a good one by the bureau's building. Better hurry up and pick him up." It's amazing how much you almost choked and stuttered as you spoke, hoping that Aaron wouldn't question the way your demeanor changed.

Aaron takes one last bite before towering next to you, "Let me clean up. It's the least I can do for imposing half of your weekend." He insists, swiping the styrofoam off your hands.

"Glad you got manners," You nod approvingly, earning another chuckle from him, making sure you gave him enough space to move around without brushing any part of your body, or you wouldn't know what the brewing feeling in your chest would make you do.

You mindlessly peer at Aaron's broad shoulders and dark hair that looks so soft you wonder if it'll melt with your touch. You blink, catching yourself mid-swoon.

After a few minutes, Aaron bids you goodbye and you wish him well, asking to relay a short message to Jack.

"I think you're only nice to me because of Jack," He jokes, pivoting on the heel of his shoes to get one last glimpse of you.

You give him a tight smile, raising your brows as you shrug.

One visit left.

Thursday, May 5, 12:51 PM

The news said Mr. Scratch escaped prison. Peter Lewis is out and about, no doubt, planning serious harm against Aaron. You turn the TV off. The image shrinks into a small diamond spark 'til it leaves a dark screen.

Ninety-eight beats per minute are your normal, but you surmise it's about a hundred and twelve at the moment as your mind anxiously ruminates your not-so-favorite-unofficial patient's well-being.

You glance at your phone, debating whether to give him a call, but even if you gain the guts to do so, you don't have his number. Who knew that refusing personal contacts would backfire? Aaron can knock anytime, you said. It doesn't matter whether he texts or calls before, you said.

Now, you have no means of contacting him, and you refuse to resort to his ways—going through his file like he went through yours.

It's a shitty feeling.

You keep your fingers as far away from your mouth as possible, afraid you'll bite your nails to its quick. If Aaron was with you, he'd say something annoyingly witty about how your anxiety's too easy to read, and you'd be bantering back a remark about his tells that not many notice but sure slightly pisses him off that you know him like the back of your hand.

Eyes dart in the direction of your entryway, waiting for any distinctive sound only Aaron makes whenever he closes the door like a teenager coming home past curfew.

"This is driving me crazy!" You ruffle your own hair, rubbing your face in frustration.

Tempted to wait outside your door for Aaron to arrive, in need of a company. A once-in-a-lifetime bone-crushing hug, given by yours truly. Or open up the 1997 Old Forester bourbon on top of your shelf that Aaron's been eyeing for a year.

You need to know if he's okay. You need to see that he's okay. Physically, mentally, and emotionally okay.

No one ever knocked.

Friday, November 18, 2:33 PM

"Aren't you curious?"

You look at Rossi, "About?" Your eyebrows pinch together. You backtrack the entire session in your mind, trying to remember if there is anything you are supposed to be curious about.

There's none.

Rossi turns to face you, a hand emerging out of his pocket. "You're not curious where he's been? I've known him for years, and I've never been more curious about his whereabouts 'til now." The hand waves around as each syllable flows, and slices the air every emphasis he makes like a conductor of his emotions.

He usually talks with his hand whenever he's emotionally troubled, attempting to make a point to himself, justifying that his feelings are reasonable.

David Rossi has been your patient for years; you can write any and everything about him into a best-selling book.

"You said it yourself, Dave," You shrugged with your arms. "You've known him for years. He and I saw each other a couple of times during our physician-patient interaction. Any interaction we had after is just the two of us drowning in silence."

Aaron never knocked that day.

He hasn't redeemed his last visit for the past five months. While it isn't the longest time he's never stopped by, you're bitter about it.

You couldn't sleep for a week after Peter Lewis escaped prison. You were afraid that Aaron's name would flash across any type of screen or mark a headline on every article and newspaper. You had to take anxiety medication to stop your body from trembling whenever the thought of him crossed your mind.

It was hell.

The utter hopelessness and lack of courage teared you apart. The strangeness. The nonexistence. You don't reckon a conversation with Aaron that involves you and him. Only you or him or whatever depressing topic comes up. You're not even sure if you had actual conversations. Always wallowing in silence while sipping either scotch or coffee.

But you two had a deal. No catch. Not even feelings. Developing one for Aaron did not cross your mind when you granted him the power to bother you at any running time.

All of it is to say you wish you had known Aaron's last visit was, in fact, the last.

Rossi squints, "You're telling me the quietness you shared didn't matter? That his company didn't benefit you the same way it did for him?" He stands tall, pleased with his words.

It did.

Of course, it did.

And you loved every second of it.

Even if you realize it too late.

But you won't say that to Rossi. Or to anyone ever.

A sigh drops your shoulders. You give him a blank stare, letting his question hover for a moment. "What do you want me to say?" You continue packing up your things on your desk, breaking eye contact.

If you knew David Rossi like the back of your hand, David Rossi knew you like every family of the victims he managed to save.

Worried.

Heartbroken.

Hurt.

Aaron never told Rossi about any interactions with you after he was released from your care. It's information Rossi's only ever heard a confirmation from you. But he knew it from the moment Aaron came to work after his first session with you and couldn't seem to get the specific idea of you out of his head.

"We're doing everything we can to catch Peter Lewis. Aaron will be back, I promise."

Pause.

You fight your every single sense to remain composed. Hearing Aaron's name instantly made you crumble. The sound of it hitting your chest with such force you had to bite the tissue behind your closed lip. You badly wanted—needed to cry and throw a tantrum.

The inner ends of your brows lift up as you nod, "Good for you... and for him. I'll see you in two weeks, Dave." You dismiss, walking around your desk to push him out of your office.

"Wait, wait! Just listen!" You retract your hands off his back and let him face you. "He's okay. He and Jack are safe somewhere I, unfortunately, don't know." He tries to meet your gaze—successful. "But! But that's a good thing. Not knowing where he is while in protective custody is good. Safe. I just thought you'd want to know."

You nod, "Certainly a good information, Dave. But not really necessary." Your tongue subtly swipes the bottom of your lips. "Aa—Agent Hotchner was a patient. Anything outside of that is not my business." Liar.

Rossi tucks his mouth into a thin line, nodding. "See you in two weeks, kid."

Tuesday, March 27, 6:12 PM

It's a nice Spring.

Your hair dances like the breeze is music as you trudge back to your apartment against the rush hour sidewalk traffic.

A year and a half.

You moved to a different place since then.

Moved on— from something that never existed, but really, your old complex just ran out of business.

You couldn't possibly move on, even if you wanted to.

"Good evening, Mrs. Willows," You smile at the old lady as she steps on the base of the stairs.

Mrs. Willows was old, close to ninety. And she's the best landlady you've ever met.

She smiles back, "Oh, just in time!" She waddles towards you, scraping the soles of her flats against the creaky floorboards.

"Did you need anything, Mrs—"

The old lady doesn't let you finish when she yanks you back up the stairs. Confusion fills you, but if you are being honest, you're more amazed by her speed. You didn't know it was possible for her to have that much energy.

"There's this handsome boy knocking at your door earlier. So, I let him in."

You dig your feet on one of the steps, halting her. "Mrs. Willows, you let a stranger in my house?" Your brows knit.

She looks at you, "Well, I figured it's one of your patients." She shrugs.

"I wasn't expecting any home visit today." You announce, peeking at the top of the stairs. "And I would've been home if there was…"

You excuse yourself, cautiously walking towards your door. The floor plan is different from your old apartment. But everything still felt the same.

The anxiety of a random stranger going through your place left you rushing to the living room. You don't exactly let any random patient inside your home. It's usually the profilers that seem to have a liking to you that lucked the privilege to visit your home at any given time.

"I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to set an appointment at the clinic—" you abruptly stop, blinking.

Aaron Hotchner.

He's sat on the armchair, only lifting his gaze after he'd closed the book you were reading before you decided to step out to run some errands.

He is wearing a navy blue quarter zip sweater and a white shirt, peeking from under. It's paired with loose-fitting gray casual pants. Like his closet had an upset stomach and threw up all over him.

The bags under his eyes are almost invisible. It used to be a tint of greenish purple. A proof of his late nights and stressful days. He's caught up with sleep for a while now.

His hair, a little longer than you're accustomed to, somehow made him look young and boyish. Probably why Mrs. Willows referred to him as a boy.

It's quite an image. Not one you'd expect to see upon opening your front door, but you mentally admit liking it.

He looks refreshing and well-rested.

"I heard you started your own practice?" He didn't mean to form it as a question, tongue-tied by nervousness. He flashes an awkward, subtle smile, dipping his hands into his pockets.

Your lashes flutter like butterflies gliding through the soft wind of Spring, except you're struggling to go against the breeze, winded by the city pollution.

"H-have you eaten?" You ask, snapping out of your trance as you head to the kitchen. Great. A question for a question. You're as nervous as he is, and you don't feel the need to hide it, though you aren't inclined to admit it.

He chuckles, and it still makes you melt after a year of trying to remember how it sounds, "That's your first question? Not 'What are you doing here?' or 'How did you find me?'" He follows you to the kitchen, it's a lot smaller than the one at your old place but you had a dinner table now, which still feels like an upgrade.

You turn and face him, leaning against the counter, "I'll just charge the entire team on their next visit. But I have a feeling David's the culprit." You blurt, earning raised brows from Aaron. "Oh? They didn't tell you? Your team unofficially designated me as their psychiatrist. I guess they also kept an important information from you." You twist on your feet to focus on the produce you carefully picked in hopes someone would join you for dinner.

But you didn't expect Aaron to be that person.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No!" You almost stumble as you spin back to face him. "I'm in no position to be mad. If a patient doesn't need my services, then I have no say." You lick the lower of your lip, biting it as soon as your tongue glides past. Heat pooling in the back of your eyes.

Aaron steps closer, "I didn't mean to—"

"I told you I'm not mad."

"You're really going to lie to an FBI profiler?"

"Former," You correct him, sniffing as you fight the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Your head's tilted up, almost facing the ceiling. Anger and frustration hammer into your chest.

He rolls his eyes, trying to catch yours. "Former, right." He parrots with a little more sarcasm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything... I needed to make sure Jack's safe." He softly speaks, making sure you understand every syllable.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, blinking and letting a tear fall in the process. "You don't have to apologize for protecting your son. I'm not evil, Hotchner. I'll do the same thing for my family. I'm completely indifferent about your disappearance, and i-it's allergy season. I'm fine." You wipe the tear stain off your face.

"I missed hearing you say my name like it's a foul word." Aaron smiles so brightly you thought you were dead and some divine was just using his image to guide you across.

"Seriously? That's what you took from it?" You shake your head, turning your back to him once more. "I feel bad for Jack now that you're a full-time father."

Aaron laughs, and by definition. "Oh, he's had enough of me." His eyebrows jump on his forehead, drifting his eyes aside as if he's replaying every instance Jack's complained to him.

You laugh, too. A full hearty laugh that seems to source from the casualty between the two of you despite the irritation you felt.

It's still the same. The ease. The effortless flow and connection despite anxious nerves. It felt like talking to an old friend you've known longer than you are alive.

You nibble on your lips, "So? You're off protective custody, or do I have to call you Brad?" You quiz airily, back still facing him to hide any form of amusement that's forming on your facial features.

"Brad?" He scoffs, crossing his arms and knitting his brows. He sounds about offended as if you'd disrespected his entire bloodline.

"Yeah, you look like a Brad to me." You remember a story from the women in the BAU. One that they happily shared one evening at Rossi's before they all begged to be added to your list of patients once you start your private practice.

Aaron lets out another scoff. "No, I'm just Aaron. Aaron to everyone. Aaron to you." He grumbles something under his breath that you don't hear, but a clear indication of his disapproval regarding the name.

You stifle a giggle, "Well, just Aaron. Consider yourself lucky that I got a free slot. I would've been with a patient by now." You state.

"Am I really just a patient to you?" Aaron inquires from behind you. He attentively observes for any subtle movement or expression in your voice. There's a longing look in his eyes that you aren't aware of. A frown drops his lips as he adds, "I at least thought we were friends."

"Mm," You hum a chuckle, "More like my stalker. But sure, we'll go with yours... friends—"

He spins you by the waist, and you're not sure if your initial thought of dreaming is ending anytime soon as your body tenses under his hold.

A small yelp squeaks out of you, hands flying behind you on the counter as if to hold yourself up from your wobbly feet. And you're certain both of you can hear the loud pulse on your carotid.

"Hotchner, what the hell?!" You chastise, pulling back, but to no avail. Caged and pinned by his strength, and you're too baffled to react accordingly.

"I'd like to redeem my tenth visit." Aaron smiles from ear to ear. You never thought it possible for a stern-faced man to ever grin this wide. To ever be this bright and bubbly.

Aaron keeps the two of you that way for a few minutes. His face is a few inches from yours. You can hear him calculating in his head.

Only the busy street outside and one of your neighbor's loud TV fills the silence.

"Your pupils are dilated." Aaron grins mischievously. He further scans your face, the same way he did when he used to be your patient, reading you like it's his job to know every micro-movement and expression you make.

Your eyes widen, "Stop—" Your voice barely comes out, breath hitching halfway through your throat. "—profiling me." The space between you and his body feels suffocatingly good. It's making you dizzy.

"Usually, you're composed, but you can barely look me in the eyes." His hands remain on your hips, and every twitch of it makes you stiff like a statue. "Am I making you nervous?" He quips wittily.

Like a switch, your heart rate steadies, and his image becomes clear.

It's Aaron Hotchner.

Just Aaron, he said.

Warmth surges through your veins. You stare at the grin on his face.

Your head tilts, and you blink excruciatingly slow. "Are you trying to ask me out, Hotchner?" You mirror the trail of his eyes like a map.

Aaron beams like he'd won the lottery. Sending you impulsive thoughts such as kissing the smile off his face.

It's tempting and nauseating.

And if he doesn't stop, you just might.

"Ten."

Your eyebrows merge in confusion, "What?"

"Ten dates," He breathes as he looks you in the eye. "Let me take you out on ten dates. Then you can decide if I'm just one of your many stubborn patients or if I can be more. Let me make it up to you in ten dates. Please." He implores, hopeful, or rather knowing that you'd say yes.

And he'd be right.

All you want at that moment is to say yes.

But teasing him won't hurt, at least not you.

"And what's in it for me?" You try your best not to smile as you taunt him.

Aaron rolls his eyes, but his grin tugs the corner of his lips up. "You get unlimited access to me?"

"Wow, that's... very compelling." And you burst out laughing, folding on your stomach as you lean against his chest. You inhale, "Sorry, I expected better negotiation. Uh, any catch?" You say between chuckles.

He shakes his head, "Just one condition," He's chuckling now, too. Not immune from your contagious giggles. "I spend most of my days with you. Even if it's just sitting in silence. I want it to be with you." He lets go of one of your hips and tucks a strand behind your ear.

The giggles die down a bit, gazing at him with reverie. You nod after a few seconds, squeezing his arms. You lift yourself, tiptoeing, closing the gap.

You leave a quick, soft peck on his lips, smiling as you get back on your feet.

Aaron smiles, and you're as ecstatic as he is.

Another nod fills your chest with utter joy as you breathe in euphoria.

"Ten's a good number."

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