#wine up consulting

[wineup-es]

WINE UP CONSULTING, GALARDONADA CON EL PREMIO "BEST WINE MARKETING & COMMUNICATIONS COMPANY 2023"

LUX Life Magazine ha publicado los resultados de sus prestigiosos “Food & Drink Awards”, en los cuales Wine Up Consulting ha sido reconocida como la mejor empresa de marketing y comunicación en el sector del vino. La destacada publicación inglesa, LUX Life Magazine, ha revelado los nombres de los laureados en sus premios anuales, honrando a empresas y marcas que destacan por su excelencia en sus…

[essektheylyss]

I am feeling great hearing that Keyleth's intel is reporting that Rexxentrum sounds like it's about to devolve into chaos with Dwendal evidently on death's door and the Assembly is about to eat itself from the inside following the Vanguard's movement, considering I was presuming that was going to be some significant fallout, but also, rip Caleb and his virtuous idealism for the Empire lmao.

[norahastuff]

.

[tinyluvs]

imagine dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can’t info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked

yes yes, a hundred times yes 🤭 thank you so much!

catching a glimpse of yourself in the elevator mirror was the last thing you needed right now. you were covered in paint, your dungarees showing up every coloured streak and hand print against the light denim. you're sure there's paint in your hair but you don't have time to dwell on it, you're late

you'd got stressed, painting your boyfriends apartment on your own, lost track of time and then didn't have the time to change before running out of the apartment, just about managing to remember to grab yours and spencer's lunch on the way

"i'm so sorry i'm late," you sigh and frown as you rush through the bullpen to the collection of desks you're oh so familiar with, "please excuse the state of me,"

spencer turns at the sound of your voice, "hi sweetheart," he hums, looking up at you just as you dip to kiss him quickly before pushing the bag of food onto his lap

"hey," you smile softly at your boyfriend before turning to his colleagues, "hey guys, how are we all?" you ask, getting a mixed bunch of replies back

"how's painting?" derek laughs, looking at your appearance and the state of your clothes

you slide onto spencer's desk, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged, "standing six feet up a ladder trying to hold a tray of paint and a brush is hard, i've nearly fallen off twice," you huff,

spencer hands you the sandwich he knows is yours and then seemingly looks at you properly for the first time since you've been there, "hey," he says, almost breathlessly

"hello?" you question, head tilting slightly, "you've already said hi," you say, looking at emily and jj who just snicker and shrug their shoulders but spencer doesn't reply, "oh before i forget!"

your boyfriend watches you carefully as you produce a piece of paper from the tiny pocket on the front of your dungarees, flapping it around to unfold it, your other hand busy clutching your food

"the living room is next, i need to know how much paint to buy," you explain, handing the paper to him, "the cans are one litre or five litres, i can't figure it out"

truth be told you hadn't bothered to try and work it out, knowing spencer would be able to reel off the answer like it's nothing, naturally, he knew the exact measurements of every wall in his house

the boy stares up at you blankly, big brown eyes soft and sparkly. your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your eyebrows raising slightly, "spence?" you nudge him with your knee

he jumps ever so slightly, his head shaking a bit, "hmm?" he asks before only just registering you've handed him something, his eyes scan over it, "oh!" he blushes, turning his chair to face his desk

"what colour are you doing the living room?" jj asks while she stabs at her salad like it's offending her. you'd consulted the girls with all of the decorating developments.

"a light brown i think, we have so much to hang on the walls," you pause to swallow, "so something neutral," you finish with a slight nod

a door opening to your side grabs your attention, aaron coming out of his office with his lunch. he comes down into the bullpen, sitting on the edge of emily's desk, "the paint fighting back?" he asks you, slight smile creeping over his face

you roll your eyes at him, playfully, while the other laugh at your expense, "very funny but i don't see any of you offering to help"

penelope scoffs, "actually, i did" and she was right, however her idea of getting wine drunk and decorating had been quickly shut down by spencer, the only input he's actually offered up in the whole process

giggling, you turn back to your boyfriend who's been far too quiet, "boy wonder?" you say gently, pushing your fingers through his hair, "got an answer for me?"

usually he would have an answer within seconds, his minutes of silence making you frown, he turns to you with the same frown painted across his face, "i don't know," he says

people around you gasp, loudly too, "what do you mean, you don't know?" emily almost chokes on her lunch, sitting forward to gawp at the boy

"i do not know how much paint we need" he confirms

derek scrambles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "say it again, i need record of this moment" he pleads while garcia smacks him

"well there's a first," david says, wandering over after hearing spencer say i don't know for possibly the first time, ever

your boy stares at the paper in his hand and then up at you, confused, "i have to go and work it out, excuse me" he says, rushed, as he stands and takes off towards circle table room

after a moment of shocked silence you turn to the team who are all staring directly at you, "i'll go check on him, i wonder what's wrong?" you say to no one in particular as you hop off of the desk

"i think i know," jj sing songs and the others hum in agreement as you hop up the stairs and along the walkway into the room.

when you get into the room spencer is stood in front of the biggest whiteboard you've possibly ever seen, marker in hand though the board is still empty of his handwriting

"spence? angel?" you say quietly, staring at his back as he starts to write the measurements of the walls in his living room, "everything alright?"

he hums, not turning to look at you as he continues to work through the problem, "yeah, fine, just can't think properly when you're around," he admits, "not when you look like that," he turns slightly to look at you

"oh, do you want me to leave?" you're sad, its obvious in your voice. nervously you start fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt

your boyfriend gasps, "no, no, honey that's not what i meant!" he says, holding his arm out. you slide into the space, head resting on his shoulder, "you're so beautiful and i love you so much, so so much, my brain just switches off when you’re around"

"really?" you giggle, looking up at him. he hums and nods his head, a light blush rushes up his neck before taking over his cheeks, "i love you too,"

he's taller than you, forcing you onto your tip toes to kiss him, not caring when someone, emily, whoops from the bullpen. gentle hands squeeze at your waist, while you hold his face with one hand, the other resting on his shoulder

"three litres," spencer mumbles against your mouth, you pull away with a sight hum, forgetting what you'd asked of him, "you need three but it's cheaper to just buy five and have left over, now come back" he huffs, his arm wrapping tighter around you to pull you back in for another kiss

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

[snek-eyes]

I keep thinking about what slotting the Job sequence in between the Flood and the Crucifixion does for Crowley’s arc, and his relationship to both Aziraphale and heaven.

@amuseoffyre did a great analysis of the importance to Aziraphale's arc here that sparked this thought, but it sent me down a rabbithole because A+C are both having very different experiences here.

Compare how Crowley bounces up to Aziraphale at the flood vs how standoffish he is when the angel shows up to the Job situation. Aziraphale is the one who's all friendly, "Oh it's you!" while Crowley... is pretty businesslike, at least until he gets the chance to start rubbing the reality of the situation in the angel's face. 

The flood pissed Crowley off. Job is the first time we start to see the more bitter Crowley we'll get to know. In the Garden he was bemused about overreactions and almost having fun poking this angel with questions about God's plans. Beginning of the flood sequence he was pretty playful. This whole earth thing hasn't been so bad so far, and oh here's that weird angel again, that's fun. 

But then he gets hit with God turning on their creation without warning, again. And the flood was at least in God's name ("That's more the type of thing you'd expect my lot to do," he said. Wasn't heaven supposed to be the good guys?). But now with Job? God turns their back and just... doesn't stop hell. Heaven's hands stay clean while hell dirties their evil little claws. Oh, so this is how things are, Crowley realizes. This is the part he's meant to play. Fine. 

And seeing how he acts here... I can't help but feel like he'd mostly given up on Aziraphale after the flood. After Crowley went, "Wtf, this is clearly an atrocity," and Aziraphale stuck to "You can't judge the Almighty!" ...well. Giving away the flaming sword was probably a fluke. Just another tool of heaven, that one. Disappointing, but what should he have expected? 

So all through their Job interaction he plays up his demonicness, trying to force Aziraphale to toe the party line and prove Crowley's new view on things right, once and for all. But there is a crack there, because not-so deep down Crowley would love for Aziraphale to surprise him again.

(After all... he is lonely. Try some wine with me, or have an ox rib, angel.)

(Fascinated by the difference in Crowley's gleeful "That's just how it started for me, see you in hell" vs. "I'm not taking you to hell, Angel. I don't think you'd like it." And only admitting to the loneliness once he isn't totally alone anymore; I think the original lie was more to himself than anything. He's angry, he's bitter, these righteous angels shouldn't think they're any better than him, not when they can doubt too. But when it comes down to it? No, I don't actually want to drag you all the way there. Something about guns and miraculous escapes, and his comment about Wee Morag, it's different when it's someone you know, isn't it. Hm. Anyways.) 

By the end of the Job situation they have a moment where they confirm they are more similar than they thought. But it's not a happy thing. It won't be until Rome when they start enjoying each other's company just for the sake of it. So at the crucifixion Crowley comes up to Aziraphale still prodding at him. You happy about this, Angel? You smirking over how righteous it is? But now instead of, "You can't judge the Almighty," we get "I'm not consulted on policy decisions." Implying he disagrees without really saying it. And that's enough for now, Crowley will take it. 

From the flood -> Job -> crucifixion -> Rome, we see Crowley get angry, then more and more resigned and bitter. Until Aziraphale reaches out and pulls him out of it.

[bau-muffin]

“Live Mas”

Word count: 6343

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, dbf!Hotch if you squint

Content warning: oral sex, fingering, p in v sex

Summary: you had a bad week at work, and Aaron suggests you go on a cabin trip. What could possibly happen?

Author’s Note: this is for my friend’s (@rivnxm) birthday! Happy birthday darling, and I hope you have a WONDERFUL day <3 xoxo

“Oh my god, thank you for letting me crash here,” you said, half gratefully, half apologetically, with a bottle of wine in your hand. Aaron raised an eyebrow at you with a half smile from where he was sitting in an oversized armchair, beckoning with his hand for you to set your things down.

“You’re lucky you caught me on a day where I actually got to go home at a decent hour. Jack’s at Jessica’s until Sunday night, and this house sounded a little hollow.”

You sat your bag on the floor unceremoniously beside the couch, the wine on the coffee table, and yourself on the couch, flopping a bit.

He eyed you, and you almost rolled your eyes as you felt him “profile” you.

“Rough day?” Aaron asked.

“Rough week. JD is giving me issues and I can’t stand him! He said my article was frivolous. Frivolous! Can you believe the gall?”

“Isn’t this the same guy who said your use of the word “persnickety” in an editorial was entirely too casual?”

“The one and only bastard.”

“If only he was the only bastard. It would make my job easier.”

You rolled your eyes, “you know what I meant.”

He reached for the wine bottle and pulled out a bottle opener and popped it open, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, I do.”

Of course, your friendship with Aaron Hotchner was probably a bit strange. He was in his 40s, a father, and a widower who had been through a divorce, and you were… well, quite a bit younger and not as jaded or cynical.

You were acquainted with him through your father, whose expertise was consulted for a case as a favor to Aaron, and somehow you two clicked and became better friends than he was with your father. You’d met him after your father invited him to a barbecue, and you realized you’d never met a more stoic man, nor one who could wear the hell out of a quarter zip shirt like he did. Did you form a small crush on him? Yes. Did you dare utter it aloud? Hell no. You suppressed the snot out of it.

“You know what I need? I need a vacation. Just… to relax. Maybe become one with nature, let the moss grow on me like a rock.”

Aaron got up to get wine glasses from his wet bar, and came back, sitting down in his chair as he poured the wine in the glasses. “What would your ideal vacation be?”

“Gosh… I love the mountains,” you said dreamily, your chin propped up on your knuckle, “I haven’t stayed in a cabin since… I don’t know, since I lived with my parents.”

He handed you a glass of wine. “I see.”

“You sound awfully pensive, what’s ticking in that head of yours?”

“I was thinking… maybe, we could take a vacation. Just you and me and a cabin in the mountains. A retreat, if you will. Jack’s at Jessica’s, and I have an overstock of days off.”

You took a sip of wine and leaned forward. “Where were you thinking?”

“West Virginia. I’ve rented a cabin before that was about four or five hours drive from here- easily doable for a weekend getaway. We could leave tomorrow after work, Friday, and come back Sunday evening.”

“Why would you come?”

He shrugged. “Keep an eye out on you. Plus, I need a break too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you not believe I can take care of myself at all?”

“I don’t doubt that you can,” Aaron insisted, “I just… I don’t know, I don’t want to risk anything.”

You were aware of his overprotective tendencies, partially because of the horrors he saw at his job, and also because of what happened to his wife. Your eyes and lips softened a little at the layer of concern in his voice. “Well… I guess it’s always more fun with friends.”

The corner of his lip quirked. “You could bring some board games.”

“Are you telling me Super Special Agent Aaron Hotchner is fond of board games?”

“That is not what SSA stands for, and you know it,” he said with a laugh.

And so, that’s how you found yourself in the passenger seat of Aaron’s SUV after work the next day. He had loaded up your bags, snacks, and cooler of drinks into the trunk without much complaint, which surprised you. You were sure he would make the typical sarcastic “traveling light?” comment that most guys did, but it was nothing from him.

“I guess I’m the passenger princess,” you said with a laugh before you popped a gummy worm in your mouth from the bag between your legs.

His eyebrows raised in bewilderment as he looked over at you. “I- if you mean exactly what the term sounds like, yes, I guess you are.” Aaron looked at the road before looking back at you. “Gummy worm, please?”

“I’m surprised Penelope hasn’t taught you more internet slang,” you said as you handed him a red and green gummy worm.

“She taught me what “rizz” and… um… “slay” means. That was too much for me.” He popped the worm into his mouth. You studied the side of his face for a second before he glanced over at you. “What?”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a gummy man.”

“I love gummies. If Ronald Reagan ate jellybellies to concentrate on ruining our country, then I eat gummies to help save it. It’s not so great for my physique, though.”

“I like your physique,” you blurted.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he didn’t say anything as he turned his attention to the road, though even your view of the side of his face didn’t hide the small smirk.

“You’re smug,” you said, teasingly accusatory.

“I don’t get many compliments on my physique nowadays- give me a minute or two to stew in it.”

“It- it kind of reminds me of Atticus Finch. You know- from To Kill a Mockingbird?” You said ramblingly.

“Are you saying I’m Gregory Peck?” You didn’t have to look at him to know he had that damn smirk on his face.

“I-“ you paused for a moment before lifting the bag of gummy worms comically, inspecting the back of it. “What level of alcohol content is in this anyways?”

“Hopefully none, considering I’m driving us, and you gave me one.”

“You’re a lightweight if all it takes is a gummy worm to get you tipsy- but there is none, you are very astute, Aaron.”

By the time you guys drove up the winding lane to the cabin, you were exhausted. You planned on taking a nap as soon as you hauled your luggage in, and you had told Aaron as much about fifteen minutes before the estimated arrival time. It was nightfall anyhow.

“I’m the one who drove, and you’re exhausted,” he mused with a smile as he carefully set some luggage on the porch.

“You’re more than welcome to take a nap too, if you’d like,” you said with a soft scoff as you waited by the door for him to open the cabin, “I’m sure there’s more than enough space for you to lay your weary head.”

“I’m sure there is,” Aaron said with a small smile as he opened the door to the cabin, with the instructions that the owner had given. When you lugged the cooler and snacks in, the smell of wood met your nose.

“This makes me so nostalgic,” you said breathily, carrying your load to the kitchen.

It was a medium sized cabin, so the living room, which featured a nice fireplace, and the kitchen were all in one open space. You didn’t study it much further as you began loading your drinks and food onto the counters and into the fridge, and Aaron began pulling in suitcases and toiletry bags.

“I’ll check the layout, and you can decide which bedroom you want to stay in,” he explained.

“Be quick about it, I need to get my blanket and pillow,” you said lightheartedly.

“Yes ma’am,” he said sarcastically before venturing further.

You cleared your throat when you realized the formal address made you feel something low in your stomach, but you tried to ignore it. You continued putting things away, then you turned and Aaron was standing there, his brows creased.

You rolled your eyes as your hand landed on your chest by instinct. “God, you scared me.”

He ignored you. “We have a problem.”

“What is it? It’s not a leak, is it?”

“If only. I could fix that. No, it turns out I booked a cabin with only one bed.”

“Oh-“

“However, I can probably sleep on the couch. If it makes you feel better, we can take turns.”

“Aaron, no, take the bed. Not to make you feel old, but your back-“

“My back is fine,” he said gruffly, “I sleep on my couch at home all of the time.”

“Aaron…”

“Don’t ‘Aaron’ me,” he said with a tiny smile, “I insist. Besides, you’re tired, and it’s almost time to go to sleep for the night anyway.”

“You damn smooth lawyer fbi agent,” you muttered as you moved to carry your stuff to the adjacent bedroom, “you make a good argument.”

“I know I do. Now, go get some rest. We can start planning the itinerary tomorrow morning.”

“What makes you think I won’t just sleep in until lunch time?” you asked sassily.

“Then I suppose that’s your prerogative.”

You moved to give him a hug, setting your bags down. “We’ll see. Good night.”

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“I hope they do,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Good night.”

You thought you heard an amused hum behind you as you tote everything to the bedroom. It was cute- a queen sized bed with a nice quilt on it that had an adorable design featuring bears, a large dresser that looked hand carved, and side tables with rustic lamps that had antlers for shades.

The bathroom was a decent size, and you found that the shower looked like a dream. But when you looked out of the sliding door where there was evidently a deck… you were surprised to see a hot tub. A hot tub, but not two bedrooms, you mused.

Then you saw the mountains, lit faintly by moonlight, and you gasped, awe filling you as you studied the range, your eyes tracing every pinnacle.

But after you put on your cotton pajamas and brushed your teeth and showered, you slid under the covers, the weight of the quilt settling nicely on you, and you realized- you can hear every damn scampering and skittering creature in the woods. The crickets that once seemed to be a comforting constant now sounded more ominous, and the frogs that were croaking innocently seemed to take on an edge.

You scrolled on your phone for a while, all of the lamps turned off and your face illuminated by the screen. But your brain was not winding down, and you were not sleepy. You set your phone on the side table, and turned from the window, your face towards the door, and closed your eyes.

No bueno. Those critters and the chirping and the croaking and various skittering wouldn’t let you sleep.

It took about two hours before your resolve melted and you got up out of bed.

As quietly as you could, you padded to the kitchen- you had not made it to the fridge well before you heard Aaron’s groggy voice saying your name and then, “are you okay?”

You could barely see his head peeking over the back of the couch, pointed away from the kitchen.

“I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d get some water. Go back to sleep, I’m fine.”

“Why can’t you sleep?”

You paused, wondering if you should admit the embarrassing truth. “The noises outside.”

“Someone’s not accustomed to the great outdoors and being away from highways and interstates,” he said a tad bit teasingly.

“I’m not,” you admitted as you filled a cup with water.

“C’mere.”

You sipped the water. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to help you go to sleep.”

You set your cup on the counter. “And your method would be…?”

“Stop asking so many questions and just c’mere,” he said, a tad bit exasperated.

“Okay dad,” you said sarcastically as you ventured towards the couch.

Aaron was half laying on the couch, his elbow propping himself up. His legs were covered by a thin blanket, but he was wearing a slightly tight green t-shirt with the Schweppes logo on it that made you bite your lip. You could clearly see an outline of his chest and the small chub of his belly even only lit by the moonlight through the window, and it was… well, he was an attractive man and you’d never felt a greater impulse to bury your head into someone’s chest before. You ignored your baser instincts.

“I’m here,” you say, almost sounding annoyed, your hands on your waist. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flitted over your pajamas.

“Sit on the couch with me. Maybe we can watch something until you fall asleep.” He sat up and patted the seat next to him.

“Were you not asleep when I came in?” You sat down beside him, and he threw part of his blanket over your lap.

“I’m a light sleeper because I’m constantly listening out for Jack. Or my phone, for the bureau.” He put his arm behind your head on the back of the couch. “You can lean into me, if you want, you know.”

Your head instinctively laid on his shoulder. “Aaron, I’m still befuddled why you would ask me to go to a cabin with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… our friendship is so unlikely anyways. You’re… frankly, middle aged. We’re in totally different areas of life. You have more… experience.” You cleared your throat nervously. “In life I mean.”

His eyebrows raised but he said nothing as he turned the TV on. Of course it was George Lopez.

“You make my life feel a little lighter,” Aaron said finally. “I love having you around and…” he studied his lap for a moment. “I would probably consider you my best friend. I’ve told you things I… I hadn’t told my team for… for a while. Maybe ever.” He looked up at you with a small smile. “You drag it out of me without saying a word.”

You stiffened a little at being called best friend, but you felt his eyes studying you keenly.

“And what do you want me to say? Call you my father figure?” You said teasingly.

“God, no,” he said almost a little too emphatically, cringing, “We’re definitely two adults. I don’t want that sort of… dynamic. Besides, I am way too young to be your dad.”

You grinned a little, but your eyes started to droop closed.

Aaron shifted so that you could lay more comfortably, but soon, despite the canned laughs from the TV, he too drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, you did not expect your pillow to feel so warm or firm. Your hand patted around, and you felt a moment of panic course through you.

You opened one eye to realize that your pillow was none other than the chest of Aaron Hotchner. Your face was buried into his chest and your cheeks flushed at the thought of it. You patted one more time to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Somewhere in the night, you guys had laid down, and your legs were tangled with his, your back against the back of the couch and Aaron facing you, kind of… pinning you.

“Having fun there?” His voice said softly, though a smile was evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry-“ you scrambled to sit up but he shushed you gently.

“Don’t worry about it, we were asleep. It’s not like you could have helped that.”

“Still-“

“I am not going to tolerate you blaming yourself for something so innocent and harmless,” Aaron said sternly, his voice deepened by the morning grogginess. It was too early in the morning for you to need to clutch your legs together. Your resolve or the lack thereof was embarrassing, really.

“Is this how you talk to your agents?” You asked teasingly.

“Yes,” he admits, “I have had to remind my agents that sometimes things don’t go as planned on missions, and it’s not always their fault. Some of them take it hard.”

You leaned your head back against his chest, and his hand moved to the small of your back.

“Do you think…” you started but then hesitated.

“Do I think what?”

“Do you think it would be inappropriate if we flipped so that I’m… you know, on your chest?”

No words were spoken; you felt his strong arms move you, and you were laying on his chest.

“I take that as a no,” you murmured. His chuckle rumbled within his chest underneath you.

“We’re friends, we can take it, right?” Aaron said, almost cryptically.

You attempted to sit up, but when you realized how… intimate that felt, you laid back down. “I really don’t think you’ve been telling me the whole truth,” you said daringly. You looked up at him and you could see his arched eyebrows.

“Oh?”

“We have some sort of tension, and I need to know if you feel it too.”

“Tension?”

“Don’t play dumb, Aaron.”

He said your name, and it was followed by a second of hesitance.

“Aaron. We’re both adults here,” you said pleadingly.

He looked down at you, his eyes meeting yours. You couldn’t explain what you saw in those dark eyes of his, a vulnerable yet guarded fortress that you could occasionally peer into like a dollhouse. He looked so… conflicted. Like he wanted something that was well within reach, but fear or uncertainty was holding him back.

Aaron easily could have leaned down and kissed you. He knew that.

But instead he said, “do you want coffee? I brought the coffee beans you said you liked and a grinder.”

You could have pushed further but you didn’t. “I do, yeah. I probably need to change for the day anyway.”

After you awkwardly scrambled away from him, you sat in the bedroom on the bed for a couple of minutes after undressing down to your underwear to stew on what could have happened. Why didn’t he kiss you? You could have sworn he was going to but stopped himself. Why was he forbidding himself from something he wanted, that he could have enthusiastically?

When you did finally reemerge (dressed of course), you smelled the coffee perking in the coffee pot provided by the cabin owners.

“Did you sterilize that thing?” You asked him worriedly, sending a look to where he was leaning against the counter, texting on his phone.

“I did, don’t worry,” Aaron reassured you, looking up at you from his phone with a smile, “I know how you are about sterilizing kitchen items.”

“I am not risking a brain eating amoeba even for you, Hotchner.” You sat down at the kitchen bar with a sigh.

Stealthily, you scanned his outfit- a brown and orange plaid flannel shirt, rolled up to the forearms, and khaki pants. God forbid he wears jeans even away from the office, you smiled to yourself.

“Apparently everyone at the office is making bets about why I went on leave.” Aaron slid his phone into his pocket as he began pouring coffee into a mug.

“What are the reasons given by them?”

“Morgan is saying that I sprained an ankle and didn’t want to risk mandatory leave. Rossi says I’m finally gaining my wits and letting loose for a weekend and getting ‘shitfaced.’ Garcia is saying I’ve eloped and went to Paris. Emily and JJ have decided not to bet but are keeping up with the money.” He placed the mug in front of you on the bar. “Prepared just the way you like it.”

You sipped it, holding the mug with both hands. “This is perfect.”

“As many times as I’ve picked up your order from the cafe, I ought to know it by heart.” He picked up his own mug and sipped on it, his strong hand wrapped around it as though he could crush it, and you felt something filter through you. The curvature of his hands, the strength evident in the veins and his fingers- but the way they were holding the fragile mug, carefully and cautiously picking it up and placing it down again.

The way his lips rested on the rim, his throat gulping slightly with every drink- there was something so vulnerable and intimate about watching him drink, even though you’ve seen each other drink a million other times. And yet, you began feeling a little green.

Aaron lowered his mug to look at you.

“You look like you’re a million miles away. Not to mention you’re staring.”

“Mm? No, um… I’m okay.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He was a profiler. Why bother hiding anything from him.

“I’m jealous,” you blurted.

His eyebrows raised until his forehead wrinkled. “Jealous?” he asked.

It was like a floodgate opened.

“I’m jealous of the coffee mug because you willingly put your lips on and take tender sips from it. I’m jealous because you wrap your hands around it protectively. I’m just… downright envious of the way you hold it, Aaron. Because I know you refuse yourself me.”

After you had said it, you covered your face with your hands. This cabin was way too small for such a confession.

And yet, you felt his hands, still warm from holding the coffee mug, tug your hands away from your face.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Aaron said softly, “you’re… right that I refuse myself.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re young. I’m so much older than you, I would be holding you back. I have a lot of baggage, for crying out loud, I don’t want to haul that into your life just for you to…” his voice trailed off. It struck you.

“You’re afraid of me leaving you.”

“I know you’re ambitious,” he admitted, “and you should be with someone equally as ambitious. I’m in the phase where I could retire from the FBI to be home with Jack. I’m in my career because it’s… it’s my passion.”

“You’re still thinking about Haley,” you said softly.

“Yes,” Aaron admitted, “I won’t lie and say that what all happened with Haley doesn’t affect how I go forward with relationships.”

“I’m not so ambitious that I can’t appreciate a good man, Aaron. That’s not to say I would quit my job or my pursuits for you, but I don’t think you’d want me to either.”

He took your hands in his. “I wouldn’t. I like you just as you are. You and your work drama, the way you’re so finicky about certain things but carefree in others- driving you to the mountains may have been the highlight of the trip because as soon as ranges came into view, your nose was stuck to the window, and I’m almost certain you’d still see your nose print on the glass. The way you adore people and the little things in life… I’ve never been able to master that, but it comes so effortlessly to you.”

The revelation hit you like a nerf bullet to the forehead out of nowhere. “You notice those things?”

“I do.”

“You know… the drive up doesn’t have to be the highlight,” you said a little teasingly.

“And what are you suggesting?” A small smile tugged at his lips.

“I’m suggesting we either get this out of our systems and forget it ever happened, or we start something that we can’t finish without one of us breaking our heart.”

“Are you sure?” Aaron said quietly.

You didn’t have to think before you pulled him closer by his unbuttoned flannel, and your lips wavered half an inch away from his. His eyes flitted down to look at your lips before gazing into your own eyes.

“I’m so sure,” you said breathlessly.

That was the only cue he needed before he closed the distance between you, his lips landing on yours softly before they sought your lips like he was scouring for water in a desert. His arms pulled you out of the bar stool and onto your feet, his hands settling on your back on and around your waist. The old man had it in him, anyone would have to admit it.

Not too old for surprises, apparently, as he gripped you and hoisted you onto the counter. You squealed a little, and you could hear him chuckling. Your hands went to his shoulders, and your legs hooked around his waist.

His hands held your face on either side and pulled you in closer. If he could inject himself into your skin, you know he would.

You playfully nipped, pulling his lip between your teeth and sucking on it, eliciting a groan from Aaron that made you grin as you continued kissing him.

Your tongues waltzed together in intricate circles, and you felt his hands ease to your bottom as they splayed out to support you.

“What do you think you’re doing,” you murmured. He grinned like a cat who got the milk.

“I’m about to take you to the bedroom, and we’re about to make love. How does that sound, sweetheart?”

“Carry on,” you said lightly, your lips against his neck as he toted you to the bedroom.

It wasn’t long before your back hit the mattress as he laid you down carefully.

“You’re stronger than I gave you credit for,” you quipped with a smirk as you looked up at him. Aaron chuckled as he tugged off his flannel and threw it to the side.

“I have to be at least a little fit to be in the FBI. Besides, I’m not that old. Now, Rossi…”

“You are not about to mention Rossi before an intimate moment,” you interjected, half incredulous and half amused.

“Sorry, sorry. But point being, I’m not exactly ancient, and my muscles haven’t completely disintegrated.” His T-shirt was soon discarded, and flung it to who knows where.

Your eyes roved over his muscles, and the sight of them made you want to salivate. He wasn’t what most would consider “ripped,” but his muscles were defined while also having a little bit of a tummy. You wouldn’t change a thing about him.

“They haven’t disintegrated,” you agreed with a small smile.

Aaron leaned down over you. “Do you mind if I relieve you of your clothes?” He asked teasingly.

“Be my guest,” you murmured lazily.

He took his time, pulling your sweatpants down and disposed of it, tugging off your baby tee shirt next. You could see him visibly gulp as he studied your bra and panties.

“Now, before we go forward…” his finger was hooked on the waistband of your panties, playing with it, “are you sure you want this? Absolutely sure?”

“I’m absolutely sure, Aaron, I swear.”

“At any time, if you want to stop, please tell me,” he said earnestly, “it’s absolutely necessary for you to know that we can stop if you don’t want to go any further. I don’t care how far into it we’ve gone, if it’s any less than enthusiastic then we timeout.”

“You’re precious, you know that?”

Aaron almost looked horrified. “You better tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve heard this from a partner.”

You nibbled on your lip. “You’re just very thorough about it. Usually a simple “uh huh” suffices.”

“Sweetheart, like I said, I want nothing less than enthusiastic consensual sex. It’s just important to me.”

“Then you’ve got it,” you smiled up at him.

His hand fished under your back to unhook your bra, and when he pulled it away from your chest, you swore he was in awe like some people are of a sunset.

“Fuck… you’re beautiful, baby,” he said breathlessly.

You felt yourself flush and it traveled well into your chest area, and he chuckled, amused, as he kissed the nipple of your left breast, feeling the heat against his lips.

“You’re adorable when you blush like that,” Aaron said warmly.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and freed you of them. The cold air hit you and you squirmed, but he surged into action, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. The noises he made, almost sounds of desperation, turned you on almost as much as his mouth on your breast.

His hand began kneading your other breast, and you breathed heavily.

“Fuck,” you muttered, a shot of lightning down your back, “you’re so good at this.”

Aaron moved away from your nipple and smirked at you. “Oh, do you mean that I’m… experienced?”

“Shut up and suck a tit,” you groaned, your hand going to your face in embarrassment as he chuckled.

“Did you really think I missed that earlier?”

“Not really, I was just hoping.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

Your hand went to your clit, and you began rubbing it in soft circles with your index and middle fingers, and Aaron resumed sucking your breast, transitioning to the other one. Of course you’ve masturbated before, but the combined sensation of him on your nipples and your own fingers was sending you over the edge as you lifted your hips to ride them, moaning in his ear.

When you felt that sweet release, your head tilted back, and you relaxed. Honestly, you could have slept, but Aaron clearly had different ideas.

“My turn, pumpkin.”

“Pumpkin?” You asked in surprise.

“Listen, I was trying something,” he said a little defensively, “but the point being that I want to make you feel good. You’re already so wet.”

He took your hand, pulling it away from you, and he sucked the cum off your fingers, his larger hand engulfing around your hand. He finally pulled your fingers out with a loud “pop.”

“Sweet- just like you, actually,” Aaron said smugly.

“And I’m sure you’ve got a sweet tooth in your head somewhere,” you replied as you watched his head approach between your thighs.

If only you could tell the version of you that had seen Aaron at the barbeque and thought he was handsome “for a man his age” that eventually his black hair would be seen bobbing between your legs with his tongue delving into your pussy. That version of him that had been wearing his brown quarter zip, looking down at you while your dad introduced you two. Who would have thought?

And fuck, that man was talented with his tongue. Was tying cherry stems with your tongue mandatory in the FBI? If it wasn’t, it should be. But otherwise- that G-Man knew his way around the G-Spot.

He made your insides feel like they had been melted down, sitting low in your stomach as the coil tightened. If this was just his tongue…

Aaron lapped at your depths, making those same desperate noises he had been making earlier. You moaned, your hands searching for something to grasp, and they found his shoulders. Your hold was so strong, it left red marks behind on his pale skin.

Your own guttural noises, some you hadn’t been sure you ever made before, melded with the sound of the wet noise of him eating you out, and you were suddenly so glad that you were in a cabin on a winding road.

“Aaron,” you said breathlessly, your chest heaving beautifully, “I’m ready, I think I’m ready for… for you.”

He lifted his head up at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, although… um… I didn’t bring lube.”

“Mhm… What about protection?”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Well… to put your mind at ease, I’m clean, I just got tested a few months ago as part of a physical, and it was after I broke up with Beth. I haven’t… had sex since we broke up.”

“I’m clean too.”

Aaron kissed the inside of your thigh. “Good.”

“Is it… do you think I could…”

He kissed from your belly button up to between your breasts. “Say it with your words, darling.”

“Can I ride you? Please?”

“Far be it from me to withhold pleasure from a princess,” he said smugly. You flushed.

“I’m not a princess,” you protested weakly, not even sounding convinced of your own statement.

“You absolutely are. You’re my princess, at least.”

“Then do the princess a favor and remove your bottoms,” you said coyly.

With a laugh, he stood up from the bed and began unbuckling his belt, and slipped off his pants. You hadn’t taken him for a boxer guy, but you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised. The outline of his dick was visible through his boxers, obviously hard, but when he slipped them off, your mouth gaped a small bit.

You saw the size of his shoes and his nose, you knew what the chances were of him being well endowed. But you didn’t ever really think you’d get to see for yourself. He didn’t look like he was too big, but he certainly wasn’t too small- not terribly long, but certainly girthy.

Absent-mindedly he stroked it, smearing the precum on the head. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Aaron, if you put this off one second longer-“

“Patience,” he stifled a laugh as he laid down on the bed beside her, his hands patting his thighs in a beckoning motion.

You moved to straddle his thighs, and carefully, you lined his dick up with your entrance, and sunk yourself onto it, inch by inch, taking deep breaths as he stretched you. When you fully sheathed him, he groaned as he held your hips, his hands splayed to support you, and your hands on his chest with small soft splatters of hair under your palms.

“Baby, you take me so well,” Aaron breathed. You clenched around him and he groaned again, his head tilted back.

Every time you moved your hips, every time he felt your ass bounce even slightly, he felt he had to fight from finishing right then and there. He truly wasn’t as young as he was, but… you had exceeded his expectations.

“Oh my god,” he moaned, his hold on your hips tightening as you rutted against him.

Your face held sheer determination, but Aaron could see when you were hitting a sweet spot by the look on your face- your eyes would glaze over slightly, and your lips would fall agape. He wished he could capture your likeness and hang it up beside the Mona Lisa- it was art, a wonder of the world.

“Baby, make some noises for me,” he urged, “I need to hear you.”

Your breasts heaved, and you whimpered as you moved up and down on his dick. His hips bucked, and you squeaked at the sudden shift.

“I’m almost there,” Aaron warned you apologetically.

“That’s okay,” you said in between panting.

True to his word, he painted your walls with his cum, and you felt like you were so soaked.

At one point, you stopped bouncing and thrusting, and panted, looking down at him and him looking up at you for what seemed an eternity, his dick still inside of you.

You slipped off of him, and rolled over to lay beside him. He pulled you against his chest, spooning you from behind.

“We really need to clean up,” he murmured against your neck, “but… I could lay here with you for so long, darling. You feel so right in my arms.”

“Ditto,” you said lazily.

Despite the urge to not get up, you both cleaned up and did the usual post sex hygienic stuff. You guys dressed again, and you sat in his lap on the couch, his arm circled around your waist.

“Mm… pretty good for an old man, wasn’t it?” Aaron teased you.

“Shut up, cradle robber,” you muttered, though a wide grin was on your face.

He pinched your thigh as he chuckled.

You both fell silent, the only sound coming from the AC unit whirring on. But there was a tension of a different kind between you two now, a silent undertone of questions.

“Aaron…”

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said slowly.

“If we could DoorDash Taco Bell?”

Aaron’s face visibly fell and you chuckled as you kissed his cheek. “It is getting close to lunch, but I’m joking. What do you think I’m thinking, hm?”

“The… the ‘what are we’ question.”

“Maybe I was thinking of asking if you would be my sugar daddy,” you said with a straight face. He rolled his eyes, clearly caught on to your sense of humor now.

“It…” he paused. “I know there’s a large age gap between us. But you are… I can’t imagine not being intrigued by your mind. You’re intelligent, and beautiful, and…” Aaron’s eye somehow meandered to your lips, “one of the sweetest women I know. And I would be honored if you would consider being my girlfriend.”

“There’s no consideration needed. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“And my job… my job doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all. Obviously this is a relationship we would have to take one step at the time,” you reminded him, “but I understand your job takes you away sometimes. I understand that your situation is unconventional in a way.”

Aaron kissed your forehead. “Did I ever tell you you are so sweet? When you’re not being a snark, that is.”

You blushed, remembering him calling you sweet earlier, after tasting you. “Perhaps once or twice?”

“And Taco Bell?”

“Live Mas, baby.”

“I don’t remember the terminator ever saying that.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that DoorDash would probably take forty minutes to an hour to deliver to you- you had checked this morning. But… What could you guys possibly do to pass the time?

[porcelainseashore]

To Neighbors and New Beginnings

Pairing: Retired! Older! Leon Kennedy x Neighbor! Fem! Reader

Summary: Leon’s getting on in years and finally retired. But that doesn’t mean he’s slowing down in terms of enjoying life. When you moved in next door, little did you realize what you had bargained for.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Post-Resident Evil: Death Island, age gap (Leon in his 60s, Reader in her 30s), strangers to lovers, swearing, bad humor, teasing, flirting, awkward tension, slow burn, romance, fluff, suggestive themes, mild smut.

Authors' Note: Inspired by this older Leon Kennedy pic, we started with a drabble that of course turned into a full length one-shot about our favorite agent, who’s aged like fine wine. This is a writing collab between AliBelleRosetta / @alibellerosetta and me, which we did for fun!

AO3 Link

There comes a time when an agent needs to retire, and Leon was no exception. When he started pushing mid-60s, there wasn’t much else he could do, save for having his brains picked for knowledge on B.O.W. behavior and countertactics. Even that was slowly dwindling as new virus strains and procedures developed. It reached a point where an agreement was made for him to be called in on a consulting basis, but for the most part of his retirement life, he was free to do as he pleased, within limits.

After all the horrors he had witnessed, he was more than happy to opt for the simple life. He finally had enough time on his hands to care for a pet. So, he pounced at the opportunity and got himself a retired police dog, settling down together with him in a quiet, suburban neighborhood, in the middle of nowhere, doing fuck all. At least for the moment. Until you came along. You sweet, young thing, you.

You were half his age, but all is fair in love and war when both of you were consenting adults. You’d recently moved in next door to him, after the previous owners had decided to sell off their house in favor of acquiring a smaller, more manageable place. What was a young lady like yourself doing here? he often wondered. You were an enigma, just like he was to you.

It began with him going about his daily routine of yawning and stretching his weary limbs, as he trudged out sluggishly, in nothing more than a pair of shorts and flip-flops, to get the morning paper from his mailbox, dog trailing behind. Slamming the lid shut after he had fished the paper out of the box and flicked it open, he spotted you from the corner of his eye, just as his dog lifted his leg to mark his territory on the stand.

You were standing by your kitchen window, biting the bottom of your lip, oblivious to the tap left running, as you peered at him intently. It seemed as if you were even unaware that he had caught you staring, since you made no attempt to cover it up. He smirked to himself before nonchalantly heading back to his house. It gave him a boost of confidence knowing that he still remained spry as ever. So what if his hair, once golden blonde and a source of pride, was now a sea of white? So what if he sported a couple of wrinkles and liver spots? He sure as hell hadn’t lost his touch yet.

A couple of days later, when the weather was good, he pulled up a deckchair on the front lawn, in direct line of sight of your bedroom window. The sound of your hair dryer turning on tipped him off that you were in. He proceeded to sunbathe on the chair topless, his newspaper in hand, without a care in the world. His dog made his rounds along the lawn, frolicking in the grass, as various passers-by greeted Leon cordially.

“Mr. Kennedy.”

He nodded at them politely.

A moment later, he heard the shutters of a window opening. He didn’t even have to turn in your direction to know that you were leaning out, pretending to take in the glow of the noon sun as you traced the outline of his muscles with your eyes. He flipped a page and chuckled. Oh, what was he going to do with you?

Well, the grass was getting taller and more unruly. That wouldn’t do. It was time for him to whip out the big guns. He picked a Sunday afternoon, when people were usually lazy and lounged around at home. Gripping the mower’s handle with one hand, he pulled the starter cord a couple of times, until the engine revved to life. 

Its loud, whirring sound caused you to poke your head out of your window. He caught your gaze then, giving you a cocky wink. A scarlet blush spread across your cheeks as you waved back at him, trying to appear friendly. Shaking his head with a grin, he got to work, methodically pushing the mower across the lush, green expanse of his front lawn. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, as the sun’s rays beat down mercilessly. Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead and pooled at his neck. It was time for a short break.

Peeling his drenched, white t-shirt over his head, he used it to wipe the sweat away, dabbing at his chest and underarms, before slinging it over his shoulder. Your eyes were fixed on the scene before you, as you rested your chin in the cradle of your hands, staring dreamily at him again from the window. He flexed his upper body slightly, just enough to give you a teaser of what was to come. That snapped you out of your reverie, as you cleared your throat and busied yourself with something in the kitchen. He couldn’t see what it was from where he was standing.

Soon, he saw you walking over with an icy cold drink in your hand. You stuck it out in front of him like a peace offering.

“Lemonade?” You seemed uncertain and shy.

“Sure.” He nodded and smiled, accepting it graciously. 

A tingle ran through your veins where his fingers brushed against yours when he took the glass from you. His piercing blue eyes held your gaze as he gulped down the refreshment, though the last bits of it spilled from his mouth down to his chest.

“Oops.” He shrugged unapologetically. “Can’t let it go to waste, can I?”

Dragging his finger along the wet parts of his chest, he gathered what remained of the liquid and placed it into his mouth, licking and sucking on it like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

“Mmm,” he murmured softly. “Tastes good.”

The crow’s feet etching the corners of his eyes crinkled warmly, as he watched you sputter and cough in response.

“Excuse me.” A crimson wave had washed over your face, as you pat your chest furiously. “Choked on my saliva.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

He eyed you again intensely, motioning to your other hand. “What’ve you got there?”

“Oh, uh, sunblock?” You pointed at the reddened skin on his back. “I thought you might-”

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he interrupted, presenting his back towards you, as he waited patiently for you to make a move.

Sweetheart? You swallowed thickly, trying to figure out if you had misheard what he said. Shakily, you squeezed out a creamy, white blob of sunscreen into your palms, rubbing them together before slathering it over his back gingerly.

You gasped in surprise, as you felt the toned muscles of his back beneath your hands. This was way better in-person. He must work out a lot, you thought. A lot more than someone of his age.

However, it didn’t take long for you to notice the multitude of scars scattered across his back. As you caressed the raised bumps and faded indents, you wondered what kind of life he had led back in the day. Was he a military man? A war veteran? Or maybe he just got into a lot of fights?

Apparently, you must have a magic touch, because Leon started to treat it as if you were giving him a full-body massage.

“Yeah,” he grunted, as you ran your hands over his taut shoulders. “Right there…”

Your task was to simply ensure he didn't get any more sunburned than he already was, but the poor man was so tight all over, you felt sorry for him. So, you got a little carried away and pressed hard against a particularly stubborn knot in his lower back.

He tilted his head back involuntarily and let out a loud, pornographic moan.

“Mr. Kennedy?” you squeaked, concerned if you went too far.

“Please, just call me Leon.” He flashed a boyish smile that revealed a glimpse into how he might have appeared in his younger days. “Don’t worry, you’re doing great, sweetheart.”

You hummed in response, his praise getting the better of you and causing a pool of arousal to form between your legs. All at once, you’d forgotten where to place your hands, what to say, and what exactly were you doing, flirting with your older neighbor so shamelessly out in the open?

A cold shower was definitely on the agenda after this. If DILFs existed, what would you call even older men who were this fuckable again? GILFs? You shuddered, feeling dirty for all the obscene thoughts swimming through your mind.

“Um, well, I guess that’s done!” you chirped out rather overenthusiastically, as you pulled away from him.

There was a slight pout on his face, though he was quick to mask it with a courteous smile. “Shame,” he commented lightheartedly. “Was enjoying it.”

A little too much, you snickered internally, as you made your way back to your house

━━━━━━━━━━━

As he stood staring out of his living room window, he pondered his next move. Despite your previous hasty retreat, you had taken to discreetly watching him work with not just a small amount of eagerness, and he was more than happy to oblige your ogling. After all, who wouldn't want a beautiful woman staring after them?

You were a curious one in his eyes, a blend of boldness as you approached him and shyness the moment you got your anticipated reward. It was a fun game he was more than happy to play with you.

Today wasn't going to be any different.

Once again, the sun hung high with not a cloud in sight, perfect to work outside on some much needed errands, but with your notable attention on him lately, the to-do list had taken quite a hit. His ideas were wearing thin, but one thought stuck out, especially with how keen you seemed to be watching him work the lawnmower. Maybe something on a larger scale would be within your interests.

With a smirk and a listen out for the quiet clangs coming from your kitchen to let him know you were home, he dropped the empty coffee cup down in his sink and headed over to snatch up his long neglected key to get on with the job at hand. The sturdy garage door opened with a series of loud clanks, the inside admittedly dusty with neglect. There in the middle stood his pride and joy. The motorcycle was an older model, but also the only one to withstand his youthful recklessness.

It’s long overdue for a tune up, he thought, grasping the handlebars as he pushed the bike out of the garage. He let it come to a rest slightly out on the driveway as he decided to give it a check over and wash it down, sneakily just in the eyeline of your window but not enough for you to see much. The bike itself admittedly didn’t get ridden as much as it should, but if he guessed right, maybe it would someday soon.

You had heard the noise of his garage door open only for curiosity to get the better of you, cracking open the window to try to get a peek of what your neighbor was up to now. It was like something had come over you, and every time he made an appearance, you couldn’t help but watch after him. You saw he was there outside briefly before heading back into his house and returning moments later with a bucket full of soapy water.

When he glanced at your kitchen upon his return, he chuckled to himself as he dropped the bucket down, sloshing some of the water across his drive. Apparently his idea had already started to work a treat, having grabbed your attention. He inserted the key into the ignition and turned it, as the motorcycle roared to life, the battery still able to kick in despite its disuse. The sound of the engine was distinct, much different from the mower previously, and he knew it was sure to pique your interest even further with what a curious thing you were. The shuffling from your kitchen as the window cracked open a little more was enough to tell him that he once again had your attention. Without a care in the world other than checking his bike and giving you a show, he dropped down on one knee, ignoring the tightening feeling in his joints. His knees weren't what they used to be after too many B.O.W. fights.

From your hung back viewpoint, you couldn’t see much, but the noise from outside drew your focus fiercely and you couldn't help but try to get a better look. No matter how much you stood on your tiptoes and reached close to the window, he was just about covered from your spot where you could only make out his unfortunately clothed back, hiding his mysterious antics for once. The way he was acting was odd, as usually he was more open with his activities. You tried to tell yourself that you should walk away and leave him to it, but it was like a desperate urge that needed to be quenched.

While his dog ran off into the yard to chase a wandering squirrel, he moved on to checking the bike over, not one to half-ass his task even if there were other motives. A quick examination of the moving parts and pivot points for signs of wear and tear came back fine, as well as inspecting for any leakage that disuse could have caused. The job was a lot messier than he remembered, with the oil gathering around the edges of the chassis coating his hands and part of his top.

The sudden barking of his dog nearby alerted him to a presence on the property, a smirk creeping up knowingly that your interest had once again gotten the better of you. You just stood there next to him staring him down, checking out his arm muscles that were left uncovered by the loose gray tank he wore, the words of your friends running through your mind as they egged you on to get closer to him. He had been working hard, and you noticed with a flush that some of the oil had smudged up his forearms and along his taught biceps.

He was tempted to chuckle at just how predictable you were becoming, knowing before he turned to look your way that you would be gazing over him with that distinct look in your eyes. It was no surprise to him at all that he was correct, finding you standing there with your shadow cast over him, and your arms wrapped around yourself, transfixed. He was seriously wondering if you didn’t know you were staring at him that way, or if you just didn’t care to hide it.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you found your eyes suddenly catching his, quickly darting away from his bright blue ones and to the motorcycle he was working on. “Oh wow, didn't know you had a bike.”

“This old girl? Been with me for years,” he said as his large hand patted the hard seat in front of him. He then used the seat as a brace to stand up, stretching out the stiff muscles that had begun to seize up from his crouched position while also putting his body on full display for your eyes. 

You couldn’t help yourself as you watched him riveted, taking in the way he flexed and moved as you felt a blush flash across your cheeks again. You had to cough to clear your throat as you tore your eyes away from him. “Haven't seen you ride it.”

“Not much of a chance to lately.”

You bit your cheek at the thought of him on it, and of you wrapped around his firm back while he rode it. No matter what, your mind kept going back to him, reliving the sensation of his skin under your hands when you had put lotion on his body, desperate to touch-

“I need to wash.”

“What?” you yelped, startled out of your wandering thoughts which snapped to his oil-covered arms and hands, eyeing them up and instantly imagining them instead coated in lather and foam as water streaked down them. You wouldn't have minded being the one to wash that oil off of his skin if it meant running your hands all over him again, a thought you were coming to accept was fueled by nothing but pure lust.

“The bike. It's filthy,” he clarified with an amused chuckle, leaving you feeling hot, embarrassed and completely disappointed. Of course he meant the bike, you scolded yourself, suddenly flushing more with humiliation than arousal.

Unexpectedly, he moved to bend down right in front of you, the tank he was wearing gaping open enough with the movement for you to look down the front of it and at his solid chest partially hidden underneath. “Oh,” you sighed out as you bit your tongue hard in an effort not to say more, his head becoming dangerously close to your crotch, and if he just shifted over a little more… 

His rough hand reached into the bucket next to you to grab the sponge floating on top, his eyes moving to catch yours as he shot you a downright dangerous smirk. As he stood back up straight, he rang the sponge out to remove the excess water, the soapy suds flying everywhere around the pair of you. You noticed that the foam coated his tank and turned it translucent in the sun as it clung tightly to his body and left trails of droplets over his uncovered skin. All you could do was swallow hard and drag your eyes off of him, a task that was more monumental than you thought it would be.

With a casualness about him, he set the sponge down on the seat of the bike suddenly, asking you, “Wanna go for a ride sometime?” 

You were caught by surprise, mind instantly faltering at the evocative question. There was no way he meant anything other than a ride on his motorcycle, right? you thought. After all, he was just a friendly older man, not some hormone riddled teen chatting up the first woman he laid eyes on. It was you that had the dirty mind. “I, um, maybe? I don't have much experience with them,” you said, answering his question as best you could ramble out.

His eyebrow quirked at your answer, his voice deepening slightly as he replied, “Hmm, never thought that would be the case. I don't mind teaching you a few things, sweetheart.”

You just laughed off his words, thinking the suggestiveness was still all on you. “I've never even been on a bike.”

“Who said I was talking about my bike?”

Your breath instantly hitched at the implication, your eyes darting between his mirth filled ones only to drift lower and catch onto his lips. They looked soft, warm, highlighted on each side by deepened laughter lines that you never would’ve thought could look so good on a man. But as they say, when men get older they age like fine wine. If that was the case, he would be a Cabernet Sauvignon aged to perfection. And you were parched.

It didn’t surprise you at all that when you found yourself shifting closer to him, you chose to embrace it, craving to feel the lips of the man you had spent too much time lately thinking about, only to become emboldened as he seemed to move in too. Your lips were mere inches apart, the heat of desire desperately running through you at the anticipated touch. 

All that came crashing down the moment his dog streaked past you chasing that damn squirrel, sending the bucket of water flying and splashing water across you both, cooling down your racing pulse and burning libido. Alarmed, you quickly backed away from him, down his drive, as the implications of what you almost did crashed down upon you. All you could do was mutter some kind of excuse and beat a hasty retreat, wondering how you would ever be able to look your neighbor in the eye the next time you saw him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As Leon watched the scene unfold in front of him, there wasn’t much else he could do. You were a slippery one, like a mouse that had been spooked and scurried off. The one that got away. He placed his hands on his hips, arms akimbo as he clucked his tongue and sighed. Rein it in, Kennedy. What were you thinking?

He really should find better things to do than to chase a pretty little thing like you. You probably had a bunch of younger men waiting in line, he noted self-deprecatingly.

Suddenly, he heard a buzzing sound and a light flickered on the ground at his feet. Your phone. It must have slipped out of your pocket in your rush to get away. Picking it up, his eyes darted towards the message notification on the screen that piqued his curiosity. It seemed to come from a group chat entitled ‘All The Single Ladies’.

‘Raaarrr, is that the literal definition of a silver fox or what?’

Silver fox? Did they mean what he was thinking? He began to second-guess himself.

The next notification popped up only seconds after, filled with thirsty-looking emojis followed by another text.

‘Damn gurl, your neighbor is hot af! You better tap that or I will!’

More strings of notifications chimed in, as the phone vibrated constantly.

‘GILF alert!’

‘I wanna blow him so hard he’ll…’

At that, he put the phone down and stopped reading, already having figured out your spiel and not wanting to intrude any further into your privacy. A wry smile formed across his face. Not only had you been speaking with your friends about him, you’d even sent them a sneaky picture you’d snapped of him to gawk at.

A sense of pride swelled in his chest as he was back in the game again. Guess he’d better clean up and use the perfect excuse of returning your phone back to you to have a chat.

Meanwhile at your place, you’d managed to calm your nerves with a cold shower and a pot of floral tea. That was so stupid! you screamed at yourself internally, not daring to look in the direction of the window any longer.

Before you had a chance to ponder upon your recent actions any longer, your stomach growled audibly. Glancing up at the clock, you were astonished to find that the hours had just sped by unnoticed. It was already time to start cooking dinner. You had a whole chicken and potatoes to roast, as well as the vegetables, herb butter and sauce to prepare. 

Your friends were supposed to have joined you today for the meal, but unfortunately unforeseen circumstances had kept them preoccupied, and your dinner gathering had been delayed to another weekend. Still, you were determined not to let that get in the way of your enjoyment, so you decided to go ahead with the same meal plan anyway.

If only today’s events had gone differently with a certain neighbor of yours. You sighed dejectedly and pressed a palm against your face. Though that sparked off a reminder that you hadn’t checked your phone for any messages for a while. Where was it?

You scrambled around, digging through your pockets and your purse to find the device, but came back empty-handed. A blinding panic began to set in. Oh god no. You didn’t leave it at Leon’s by accident, did you?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Just then, the doorbell rang, startling you and causing you to jump to your feet. You sprinted towards the door, swinging it open, only to come face-to-face with the man who had been causing you all this trouble so far.

“H-hello…?” you stammered out a greeting, slowly wedging yourself behind the door, using it like a makeshift barrier between you and Leon.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He dangled your phone in front of him, grinning playfully. “Forgot something?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks!” You reached out, grabbing it quickly as you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

A horrifying thought swept through your mind. Did he know? You searched his facial expression closely for any indication that he might have seen something on your phone that he shouldn’t have, but there was nothing. He looked as cool and collected as ever.

Maybe you were overthinking things. “I was just about to make dinner actually,” you mentioned in passing. 

He looked at you expectantly and whatever willpower you had left in that instant vanished into thin air. You caved in.

“Would you like to join me?” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could process them.

"Thought you'd never ask," he replied huskily as he stepped into the corridor you led him through.

“So what’re we cooking tonight, chef?” He peered around the kitchen, checking out the equipment and utensils, trying to get acquainted with the place.

You guffawed. “Erm, you’re a guest.”

“So?” He folded his arms. “I’m not the type who lets a lady do all the work.”

Aware that he wasn’t going to budge on the matter, you raised your hands in mock exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re not the first to say it.” He shrugged, sliding past you towards where the aprons were hanging. You gasped when you felt his calloused hands momentarily on your waist. Was he doing this on purpose?

Pulling yourself together, you started to brief him on the Sunday Roast Chicken recipe, passed down through generations in your family from a battered, old notebook. He responded to each instruction with a “Yes, ma’am,” and followed them to a T. You had to give him brownie points for his eagerness to please.

“No, Leon,” you scolded gently. “That doesn’t go there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Could you stop calling me ma’am?” You laughed. “Makes me feel old.”

“You’re one to talk.” He winked at you while placing the baking tray on the correct level. “Are you this bossy in the bedroom?”

You nearly spat out the water you’d been sipping on. “Uh, I-I don’t know?” Clearly, you wanted to bury yourself in a hole right there and then.

“Guess the proof is in the pudding,” he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear every single word.

“Wine?” Your shrill voice cut through the air like a knife, as you tried to change the subject, shoving the bottle directly into his chest.

“Oof.” It stunned him that he felt winded by the accidental blow. He gripped the bottle as you eyed him apologetically. “Easy there, girl.”

“Sorry, my bad.” 

You brought over two empty glasses while he helped to pour out the wine, your fingers grazing against his wrist as he handed you a filled up one back. A part of you wanted to prolong the caress, but you held back, unsure of where you stood with him. You could feel the weight of his burning gaze locked onto yours as he toasted to “neighbors and new beginnings” before drinking from his glass.

You almost missed your cue, taking an extra beat to raise your own glass to your lips as you dragged your eyes from his. The wine on your tongue tasted like the sweetest you had ever sipped. Maybe it’s the company? you questioned as you watched him drop his glass down on the counter behind him. You clutched your own tightly, feeling the atmosphere constricting as he refused to look away.

The only thing you could hear was the tick of the kitchen timer and the beat of your pulse in your ears as the silence stretched between you both. Besides the smoldering of his eyes under his snowy bangs, he gave you nothing, so with desperation, you racked your brain for something, anything, to keep the tense undercurrent at bay.

With a moment of clarity, it hit you as you dropped your own glass down and glanced over towards the far side of your kitchen. The single table sat there, usually a crowded affair when your friends were over but plenty big for just two. If nothing else, setting the table would keep you busy and your mind from wandering.

With a plan of action in place to set the table, you went to shift from your spot only to be met with another obstacle. Of all the places he had to be standing in your kitchen, it was just typical he was in front of the cutlery drawer. Still, even if you had to get close to him, it was meant to be a friendly dinner after all. The almost kiss was probably just in your mind and you had been overanalyzing too much. All he had done that night since was bring over your phone like a good Samaritan and help you cook dinner like a friend.

You walked over to him, noticing that despite your approach he didn't move at all, seeming very content to have you come into his close proximity. You caught his eyes as they drifted downwards, and all of a sudden you realized the mistake you were making. Being this near to him was setting off the blush you tried keeping down, and you were sure he was going to notice.

“May I?” you asked as you stopped in front of him, a hand pointing at the drawer behind him. 

“Whatever you need,” he murmured, while not even moving a step away.

You blinked up at him, trying hard not to imagine what else he could possibly mean with those words. “The drawer. I keep the cutlery in there.”

Despite your explanation, he still didn’t shift, instead just staying where he was and watching you curiously. He had to wonder what you were up to, getting so close to him with that cute flush on your face, stammering out any old excuse. You didn’t need one at all, in his opinion.

“Oh.”

That one syllable sent a shiver down your spine. It was a mistake, a really, really bad one you decided right then and there. Just being so near to him, feeling the heat of his breath was making the ache to touch him that much more potent. You wanted to feel those lips.

You backed off from him in a hurry, fighting the flush that you felt flooding your skin as you bumped into the oven, clanging the pan you had on top that had been left out to help you prepare the dinner. You found your excuse to keep him at bay, still needing to finish preparing a few final bits of the meal.

“Help set the table?” you quickly asked him with your voice a tad too high. “Plates are up there.”

You hoped it worked, sending him a good distance away from you in the kitchen to arrange the table while you got your overheated body under control.

“There’s that bossy thing again,” you heard him mutter as he opened the cabinet you had pointed to and reached up to grab a couple of plates, though his words sounded strangely disappointed to your surprise.

You tried not to look over, but in the end it was in vain. You were blessed by the sight of his shirt ridden up, once again showing off his ridiculous physique and making you feel like melting all over again.

Tonight’s dinner was going to be a long one.

━━━━━━━━━━━

In spite of the earlier faux pas, you were thankful that having dinner with Leon passed by without any further embarrassments. He proved to be quite a decent conversationalist when he wanted to be, and you found yourself relaxing into the laughter and various points of discussion you both shared. You were enjoying yourself so much that you hadn’t realized how fast time had flown, and it was suddenly nearing midnight. Suffice to say, you were feeling rather disappointed that he would need to leave so soon.

“Good food, good wine, good company…” He stood up, helping you to clear the dishes from the table. “What more could a man like myself ask for?”

You beamed at him, letting your guard down for once. He was being such a gentleman that you couldn’t help but open your mouth and blabber out the next statement before thinking. “Could I get you anything else? Dessert, or-”

You caught yourself, pausing abruptly as your stomach sank. Why did everything you say sound like an innuendo?

He placed the dishes down where they were and made his way slowly and assuredly towards you. For some reason, you were frozen on the spot, unable to scamper off and hide within your own home without looking like an absolute fool in front of the man you had been secretly crushing on this whole time.

“You know, I can see the gears turning.” It was as if his voice dropped an octave lower. “Right here.” He tapped his fingers lightly against the side of your head, giving you a slanted smile.

“Now that you say it,” he continued languidly. “Dessert would be nice.”

He curled his hand, so that his knuckles brushed along your cheek towards your jawline, as you shivered from his touch.

“Whatever you need,” you echoed his previous sentiments softly, as you lost yourself in his deep blue eyes, now ablaze with a fierce hunger. All you could do was stare into them, watching as they drew ever closer. Then you caught it, the moment they left yours to drop down lower. Your lips parted as you inhaled sharply, your heart pounding as you felt the ghost of his breath.

You thought that he would pull away at any second, that it was just another misunderstanding. That was until you felt the first light brush against your lips. Your mind went blank, struggling to keep up until it hit that he was kissing you. All those prior moments with him flashed across your mind, and none of them had been innocent after all.

His hand slid to rest against your cheek, pulling your face closer to his as his lips caressed your own, coaxing you to reciprocate as you finally gave in to the yearning that had constricted you for so long. His lips were softer than you thought they would be, but warm as you returned the kiss with an indulgent sigh.

You felt him smile against your mouth, as you trailed your hands along his arms towards his shoulders, pressing your body against his in an effort to deepen the kiss. He grew bolder, licking across the slight parting of your lips, as if seeking permission to continue. Whimpering in pleasure, you allowed him to move his tongue to meet yours, drawing in his taste again and again.

As you started to gently grind into him, he broke away for air, pressing his forehead against yours, panting heavily against your swollen mouth. “Delicious,” he breathed, before clamping his lips at the side of your neck, sucking and nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot.

Tugging the collar of his shirt tightly, you rasped, “How about a second helping?”

The next thing you knew, you were lying on your bed, slick with sweat while Leon rocked his hips against yours. You savored the fullness of him in you, grasping onto his ass as your nails dug into his skin, leaving angry, red marks in the process. “More,” you whined, in a tone that came off unintentionally on the side of demanding rather than pleading.

He gave you just what you asked for, with sweet nothings coming from his lips along with comments about knowing you were going to be bossy. Testing the waters brought you both much further than expected, but neither of you could complain.

The rest of the night went by in a dreamlike haze. At some point, you rode him on top, his large, chafed hands groping your breasts, as you tilted your head back and cried out until your voice was hoarse. At another, you leaned your back flush against his chest as he thrust into you from behind, groaning incoherently into your neck. 

You took things in your own stride, resting when needed and going again when it was comfortable to do so. Even though he had set the pace slower than you were used to, it was no less intense. In fact, everything felt deeper and more passionate, like you were melting into one.

Every release he brought you was an ascension that sent you beyond, flooding you with a euphoria that made you desperate for him. It left you addicted, your body craving more and more of his touch each time until nothing but the feel of his skin and the shifting of the sheets could be comprehended.

The final time was intense, filled with a feeling of pure bliss that you knew you would be dreaming about for days as you clung to him in desperate abandon. His name fell from your lips in a gasp, and in turn he muttered yours.

Splayed across his damp chest, you traced the lines of his freckled, weathered skin, as he stroked your hair contentedly. “Best dessert I’ve had in a while,” he grunted, intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing your knuckles to meet his lips. “Michelin star worthy.”

You swatted his hand playfully, giggling at his quip. It spurred you on to tease him back. “So, will I get an actual ride next time?”

He chuckled heartily, though he didn’t miss a beat. Age was never an issue, he still had his wits about him. “’Course, sweetheart.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “If you tell me what a GILF is.”

[after-witch]

Late Night Break In [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Title: Late Night Break In [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Synopsis: You never expected to find your soulmate. After all, it’s not like there were lots of people named “Uvogin” out there.

Word count: 3000ish

notes: yandere, soulmate AU, breaking and entering

Another Friday night alone. 

But it’s okay. You won’t wallow in self-pity and think about the couples who were out and about the city on romantic dates, or snuggled up on the couch prepping for a night of passionate (or not so passionate, depending on the strength of their relationship) sex. 

Life’s too short to wallow. And it’s not like you were exactly alone.

You’ve got your movie collection and your antique figurines and your latest purchase, a vintage sofa with restored upholstery that means you get the benefit of the original aesthetic without the downside of years of stains, rips, and potential bed bugs. 

And you have friends. Maybe you don’t see them very often, admittedly because you got tired of being asked when you were going to find your soul mate, whether or not you’d consulted a searching service to find them, if you were interested in one of them paying for the service if you didn’t have the money…

Sure, some people might get a little lonely without their soulmate. Someone who you were meant to be with forever and ever, until one or both of you died. And your coworkers who’d long since found their soul mates or who were actively searching day-after day (usually using those paid services that were perfect for such things--not that you wanted to spend your money on that) sometimes looked at you with these awful pity-filled expressions that made you want to roll your eyes.  

More so than your friend’s worried clucks and glances between each other, because at least you knew your friends were coming from a place of worry and not from a place of “why haven’t you done this thing society expects you to do?” like your coworkers.

And, really--

It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t found your soul mate. 

It’s not like there were tons of people in your home city named “Uvogin,” after all. 

At least his name was well-hidden on your body. It was written, as everyone’s was, in a neat cursive scrawl in black ink that would never come off. You’d heard stories of people who had gone so far as to cut off the skin that contained their soul mate’s name--fighting destiny and all that--only for the name to pop up somewhere else or sometimes even on the same spot, black as ever on the healing, mangled skin.

It wasn’t something you were going to try. 

Uvogin’s name, whoever he was, was on the back of your neck,  low, between your shoulder blades. You liked it that way. It meant you couldn’t be the target of scammers or people who’d been unable to find their real soulmate and were obsessively, dangerously desperate to get someone (anyone) to be with them.

And you? Well. You wouldn’t deny that it might be nice to find your soulmate. Some of your friends and coworkers and passers-by-on-the-street certainly seemed happy to be together. 

But you weren’t going to stop living your life just because you were still on your own. So if you spent your evenings watching movies or rearranging your decorations or making the perfect beef-and-wine stew for one, what was so wrong with that? 

--

You don’t wake up when someone breaks through the wood of your door with a simple stab of their fingers, slides their hand in, undoes the lock, and turns the door knob to enter without any more fanfare.

You don’t wake up when someone’s eyes dart around your apartment, looking for your bedroom.  You don’t wake up when your bedroom door opens with only the tiniest creak.

You only wake up when a hand is slapped over your mouth, and you jolt from a dead sleep with a dizzying suddenness that leaves your head swimming.

You’re awake--you think--and there’s someone above you, a big, heavy presence that seems to take up everything in your field of vision. The taste of salt and flesh is on your mouth, a big hand pressed over your lips and jaw to keep you from moving them.

To keep you from screaming.

“Where is it?” The voice asks, and you can tell it’s a man. But he’s huge, tall as anything, and even in the dimness of your room you can see he has a wild shock of hair that makes him look more like a lion than anything else. The thought is almost silly in the fogginess of your head, but as reality comes in, clearing the way, there’s nothing to laugh about right now.

“Where’s what?” You ask, or try to ask, though you can’t do more than mumble against the large meat of his hand against your face.

  It takes him a moment to register that you can’t actually answer. You can see, barely, his eyes narrow down at you.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, and you won’t be. He wants money, presumably, and you can give him that. Or your TV. Or whatever he wants. As long as you make it out alive.

Slowly, he removes his hand, as if waiting to see if you’ll try to scream.

You don’t. As he moves his hand away, your thoughts come quick, untethered, flitting about the unfairness of the situation. You haven’t really lived yet, and you’re too young to die, and you hope he doesn’t hurt you at all but if he does just let him not kill you at least, is that too much to ask, God, you hope not--

“Where is it?” He repeats. And maybe it’s just your imagination or the fear getting to you, but he seems like he’s lowered his voice a little, sounding less harsh and more considerate. Maybe because you didn’t scream and you aren’t making trouble. That’s a good sign, maybe. It’s hard to tell. 

You swallow. You wish he would move back, so you weren’t lying on your back in bed. But he does no such thing, so all you can do is stare up at him, heart hammering, mouth dry.

“Where’s what?” 

He snorts. 

”Your soulmate’s name.” 

Does your heart stop? No, but it feels like it does. You expected him to say something else. Like. Your money or your safe or your most valuable items. But your soulmate’s name? Is he some sort of deranged loner who couldn’t find his soulmate and he thinks you’re itt? 

Or… 

You swallow, thick, as the thought finally comes to you. It’s not something you thought about often, because most people weren’t worried about things like this. But sometimes your soulmate was someone Not Very Nice. Someone that Hunters might be tasked to go after. And this man, bulky and strong and intimidating as hell, could definitely be a Hunter.  

More often than not, they went after civilian soulmates when catching the criminals proved to be too difficult--though no one could say for sure what might be done to them afterward. 

Some of them were used as bait. Some of them were taken to the authorities to help track down their not-so-law-abiding soulmates. And some… well. You’d heard rumors that killing a soulmate could hinder certain types of criminals. 

“None… none of your business.” Your teeth clack against each other, a thin, quick pain that seems to linger on in your mouth. 

The man’s lips twist into a frown, half-shadowed by the darkness in the room, although as your eyes adjust you can see more of him. It doesn’t make you feel any less worried about what’s going to happen, though. 

“No?” 

You see his arm move, and think he’s about to slap his hand over your mouth again, but what he does instead is shove his arm right in front of your face.

You blink.

And stare.

And it takes you a moment to realize what you’re looking at--on his arm, bulky as it is, scared as you are. 

It’s your name. In a nice, neat scrawl. Unmistakable and permanently stained on his skin.

This man isn’t a Hunter sent here to kidnap you or drag you into a station or kill you. And he certainly isn’t here to steal your wallet or your television or your collection of rare comic books.

He’s your soulmate.

Uvogin.

“B-Back… back of my neck,” you say, stammering. 

He hums. And then he shifts over on the bed, and you instinctively sit up in your bed, glad to no longer be prone underneath him. 

“Let me see,” he says, gruff. But there’s a gradual lessening of heaviness in the air, now that you know he isn’t here to kill you or rob you or who knows what else. That still doesn’t excuse breaking into your apartment and doing this, but…

You lean forward, and with a surprising gentleness considering his size, he pulls down the back of your nightshirt enough to see what’s underneath. 

“Heh, there it is, huh…”

 He lets the fabric go and you lean back, looking at him. He stares down at you, his weight sagging your mattress, his bulky frame taking up most of the bed.

“You gonna scream?” 

You think. You bite your cheek. You shake your head.

“You gonna try to run?”

You breathe out through your nose. And you think. And you shake your head. You won’t scream, you won’t run--you can tell without asking that neither of those would do you any good. And… do you really need to? There’s a strange sort of curiosity that’s building inside you, now that you know who he is--your soulmate. 

He nods, tilting his head back a little, craning his neck as if to stretch it.

“Hope so. Would be stupid if you tried, and I hope my soulmate isn’t that stupid. You get me?”

You nod again, and your breath hitches just a little when he stands up and begins to stretch his neck again. He sighs, evidently pleased by the releasing of tension, or maybe pleased that he’s found you and you didn’t shriek like a wild banshee and try to get away.

You could still try to run. Your fingers grip on your sheets, still uneasy. Sure, he was your soulmate but… soulmates didn’t usually burst into people’s rooms at night and tell them not to scream. Usually.

Uvogin, like his name, was definitely an outlier. 

He leans against the wall next to your bed, looking down at you with appraising eyes. It almost makes you wish you weren’t sitting in bed wearing an old nightshirt, eyes bleary, hair messy. It wasn’t exactly a good first impression. 

“Been looking for you for a while,” he tells you. “I thought maybe you were good at hiding… Shalnark’s soulmate kept him out of the loop for a while.” He chuckles to himself, reliving some private memory. “But looks like you’re just that much of a nobody.”

Something inside your chest bristles.

“Excuse me?” You sit up straighter, and finally get the nerve to lean over to your bedside table and flick on the lamp. Your eyes squint for a moment. The addition of new light doesn’t make your soulmate look any less intimidating. But it does make you feel less like some helpless rabbit in the dark, at least.

He raises his eyebrows, and there’s a small part of you--a churning in your stomach--that tells you to sit down and shut up. But you’re not about to be 

“That’s rude,” you say, as calmly as you can. “I’m not a nobody just because you couldn’t find me. Maybe it means you’re bad at looking.”

There’s a pause, a beat. You wonder if you’ve pissed him off. But then he throws his head back and laughs. 

“Fair enough,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Fair enough.” He sighs, then, and looks up at the ceiling. “There is the question of what to do with you, though.”

Ah, there it is again. That churning in your stomach. A growing pit, tight and electric. 

You sit up straighter, and piece what little you know of these puzzles together in your mind. It doesn’t add up to anything particularly wholesome, even with giant chunks missing. 

“I… I’m guessing you wouldn’t be okay with a long distance relationship,” you mutter. 

He scoffs, a little laugh. “Oh? What gave you that idea?”

He leans forward, and you don’t know exactly what you expected him to do, but it wasn’t to pat you on the head. But he does. 

“Smart,” he says, while his voice is teasing there’s something that sounds a little genuine in there. Or were you imagining it? Was it just part of the soul mate bond, maybe, to automatically see things your soulmate did as pleasant? 

He sits back down on the bed. The bed frame creaks. You aren’t keen on spending money to replace it, but you aren’t keen on scolding your very large, very strong soulmate right now either. So you keep mum.

He leans forward and rests his hand on his palm, keeping his elbow on his knee.

“Well. I don’t exactly got a house with a white picket fence. Or without one, for that matter.” He rubs at his nose, and it strikes you, how casual this conversation is… your soulmate, sitting on your bed, after breaking into your apartment in the dead of night. You take the moment of his consideration to lean over and look through your bedroom door, which faces the entryway. You can just make out the busted wood of your front door… fuck. What would your landlord say?

“Some of the others got one place they keep their soulmates, suppose I should think about it…” He glances at you, gauging something. “Makes it easier when you have one place to go, ‘stead of dragging your soulmate everywhere.”

His words finally do let you feel a sense of unease. You don’t know who the “others” are, or why they would need to be dragging their soulmates everywhere. He wasn’t a Hunter, but maybe something like it. Something that kept him moving. Or, more likely considering the circumstances of your first meeting, something that kept him on the run.

The thought of being dragged around or even taken to some sort of strange house brings back that churning in your stomach, an awful, lurching feeling. Your eyes dart around your room, to everything you’ve set up in your life up until now. 

Every inch of your apartment was carefully chosen, down to the rugs on the floor and the color of the tension rods you’ve shoved into the windowsill. But it’s not just the decor. It’s… your whole life. Your job, the coworkers you’d carefully built relationships with, the fact that you have a favorite diner for breakfast and takeout spot for the weekends. 

“I… don’t want to leave here.” Your voice is soft and at first you think he doesn’t hear you, but when you see him raising his eyebrows and lean forward, you get the nerve to continue.

“If-if that’s possible,” you add, a little quickly. “I’d like to stay here. This could be your… the place where you keep me. Or whatever.” The last words come out mumbled. They’re almost embarrassing to say, like you’re some kind of pet.

He doesn’t say anything for a little while. You almost start talking again, some half-baked plead, but he leans a little closer to you. His look is serious.

“How could I trust that you won’t just run away after I leave?”

Your lips press together. 

“I worked hard for this place. For this life. I would hate…” And you search for the words, lost somewhere in the dimness of your room. “I would hate for it all to become worthless.” 

You sit up straighter, before leaning towards him. Maybe it will be easier to convince him if you don’t act so rigid, so scared. You can do that. 

“If you let me stay here, or-or even if you just let me take my favorite things with me, I’ll be… good?”

He snorts. There’s a hint of a smirk as he leans forward.

“Yeah? You’ll be good?”

Warm flushing creeps to your cheeks, and for the first time you think about what it really means to be someone’s soulmate. Togetherness. Intimacy. 

Your words come out halted, and fumbling. But you mean them, as long as it guarantees that you don’t have to give up your life. Your apartment, your spots, every carefully curated bit of your existence here. Or even--and the thought is desperate--if he is going to take you away, it would be enough if you could keep your belongings. Just enough. 

“I’ll do what you want?” You shrug, keeping your eyes downcast on  your lap, though you can see him shift out of the corner of your gaze.. “Cook or clean or… whatever.”

There’s a hand on your chin, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth. Instead he tilts your chin up and holds it there, forcing you to keep eye contact.

“So what? You want to make a deal? I let you keep some furniture, and you’re going to be a good little housewife for me?”

“I didn’t--” You say, practically spluttering the words out. “I didn’t say that.” Your cheeks feel impossibly hot. 

He laughs, and lets go of your chin. You don’t look down.

“No, I like it. It’s cute.” He grins at you. “I’m lucky. Some of the others, well…” He rolls his eyes, and you don’t press him on it. 

He drums his fingers against the bed. 

You look up at him, eyes wide, hopeful. 

He sighs, then gives you a lopsided grin that makes your stomach churn in a different way than before. Though the feeling is just as unnerving.

“All right,” he says, with a casual sort of finality. “You can stay here.” A pause. “For now. If you try anything--and I mean anything, like going to the cops, telling your friends, whatever…” He moves his wrist around in a gesture that you can only take to mean “all of this goes away.” He looks at you with a seriousness that makes you want to press yourself through the headboard and into the wall. “Got it?”

You nod.

But then…

“There’s… one thing I need you to do before morning, then,” you say, voice tight and quiet but determined. “Uvogin,” you add, hoping that using his name might make him a little less intimidating. It doesn’t, but maybe that comes with time. 

Both of his eyebrows raise. You almost think he’ll just shut you down, but instead he asks--

“Yeah? What’s that?” 

You gesture towards your open bedroom door, towards the front of your apartment.

“You have to fix that door first. My landlord will have a fit.”

For the second time since meeting you, Uvogin throws back his head and laughs. 

[irndad]

double vision in a rose blush -s.r.

a/n: first fic in like a year and my first spencer fic! please let me know what you think!

summary: she is the best part of his days, his life, these days, really. the only problem is she never touches him. s/o to @bitesizedgremlin for writing the most adorable touch starved spence fic that got me 🥰

wc: 1.6k

He loves looking at her. 

It feels hedonistic, like drinking a too-expensive wine. Looking at her brings a warmth that spreads all throughout him, like threaded gold embedded in her movements. It’s a lovely kind of ache, how she can bring the most open, the most raw parts of him to the surface. She is captivating, the way she laughs, the way she moves, the slightest intonation of affection she offers him in her tone. 

Tonight, she sits across from him at the team’s favorite bar. She’s wearing a deep emerald green top, the kind of thing that makes her look like something out of a dream. 

It’s not like it shows how much he likes her. He hopes it doesn’t. 

Sure, people tease them. She’s a consultant with their teams, one with a desk right next to his one. He initially thought he’d hate the company, but even on their first meeting, she was relentlessly kind. She had sat next to him, wearing a beautiful periwinkle sweater, and somehow he was talking for far too long about how the original blue pigments were sometimes made from toxic materials and how much modern effort it took to make a sweater that color.

He’d felt a familiar humiliation, the knowledge that a beautiful woman had sat down next to him and offered him kindness, and he’d met her with his own personal brand of anti-charisma.

But she hadn’t interrupted him. In fact, she granted him maybe the most welcoming, kind smile that he’s ever seen in his life.

And she’d asked more about the pigment. 

Spencer- he’d never known the kind of affection she offers so freely. It almost reminds him of Penelope- how open she is, how kind. Objectively, he knows she likes him at least a little bit. He’s a profiler, and he can tell at least that much. 

The hitch is, he’s the only one she doesn’t touch. 

Morgan gets shoulder brushes. Penelope hugs, and he even remembers her once giving Rossi a warm squeeze of her hand. But not him. Even now, she sits across from him after having held Morgan in a long hug of greeting. 

He looks up at her, her pretty fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. She moves with such grace, no matter what the action. The way she tops her head back, how a lovely grin spreads across her face. He’d give anything not to be her exception. To be one of the people she touches. 

“What you thinking there, wonder kid?” She says, and somehow her voice carries across the crowded bar. He thinks he could pick her voice out anywhere.

“Nothing really,” he says back. He never likes the way his voice sounds around her. He wants to be confident, smooth, like Morgan. She leaves him too weak for it. “How are you feeling?”

“I am wondrous, Spencer.” She’s leaning into his space. Her tone is just a little shaky, influenced by the alcohol. He’s near enough to smell the lily-scented perfume she wears, and it’s everything in him not to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He’d gotten it for her for Christmas. 

He remembers her reaction to it, unwrapping the bow and wrapping he’d sent an hour trying to make perfect. It was one of the few times she touched him, however brief- a squeeze of his hand and that earnestly grateful look- the image kept him warm all year. She’d worn it to work more often than not. It brought him a shameful sense of satisfaction. 

She carries me with her. She has a piece of me with her wherever she goes. 

I want to be touched by you, he thinks, I want to be the one doing the touching. What is it about him? He knows his limbs are a little spindle-y, and he’s not exactly experienced in most forms of physical expression. But he could be, if he was given the chance. If it was with her. It’s not something he could say, though.

“You look lovely,” he says, unprompted. “I love that shirt on you.”

She flushes, and almost, almost, touches his knee in thanks. He preens at the praise, even though it’s not verbal. She’s just so beautiful. It’s always been about more than beauty for him, the mind behind the doe eyes and sweet smile. 

Still, it’s hard to deny how much of an effect she has on him- how she can glance at him with that honey sweet look, how the red on her lips has him wondering what it would taste like. If there could ever be anything better. Without thinking, he grabs one of her hands; it looks just so pretty in his own. He runs his thumb over her knuckles. It’s like electricity, passing through them. 

There has to be something he’s done. There has to be, if she touches everyone but him. He always notices, but tonight, with liquor and courage in his chest, he wants to ask. If he knows, if there’s something- maybe he can fix it. Maybe then she’ll put her pretty hands on him just like this. Touch him in any way she wants.

It wouldn’t be close to what he wants. But it would be something. 

“Hey,” his voice comes out uneven and shaky, but his eyes are locked on hers, “I-I’m sorry if I’ve done something.”

Her face blooms into an adorably confused expression. 

“I-,” His stutter jumps out but he’s still holding her hand, and it’s so soft and his stomach just won’t stop that flipping feeling and he just cannot let go, “I know you like to touch people. I don’t know if I-I’ve done something, but you- you never touch me.”

Suddenly, the bar feels a good bit quieter, and her eyes feel like they can see right through him. Her hands are the only thing tethering him here. 

“I don’t touch you?”

“Touch is actually one of the most well-regarded indicators of closeness and geniality in personal relationship.” 

“Spencer-“

“It stands to reason that if you touch everyone but me, there should be a reason and it’s like something that I would have done to offend you.”

“Hey-“

“I just want you to like me.”

Her face, the most beautiful face he’d ever seen- softens into a delicate expression of fondness. 

“Spence,” and god, doesn’t that sound lovely, “I thought you didn’t like touching.”

He pouts without thinking, and all thoughts leave his mind when her other hand reaches out to hold his face, her fingers on the junction of his chin and neck, stroking the side of his cheek.

The truth of it is he thinks of her hands on him in every way. Pictures hands laced together, her graceful fingers running through his hair as they lay on his couch. 

He’s imagined kissing her way too many times.

“Not with you. You’re different.”

He’s too honest. But it’s overwhelming. Her hand in his, the other brushing delicately over his face. He leans into it, a little too eager, but the sensation of it is just too much not to. 

“Remember the second day of me being with the team? You told Garcia she’s the only one allowed to touch you?”

“I think so?”

“Well, I like to repeat your boundaries.”

“I like you to touch me.”

She tips her head back, laughing, and she looks ethereal, the kind of smile gracing her face that’d have you believe everything you’ve every worried about in your god-forsaken life was worth it to witness this. 

“I’d like to touch you too, Reid.”

“You can call me Spencer,” he says, realizing how close they are. Lilies. He’s overplaying his hand. He’s a friend at work, he wants to remind himself. He’s the guy who bought her perfume and hands her files and gets her coffee and that does not mean the same thing as a partner. He’s not even the kind of person someone like her would want.

It’s just hard to remember that. 

“Spencer,” she says, more tender than anyone else had ever been with him., “I could be reading this wrong, but-“

It’s actually a small distance, kissing her. If she’d been more than a few inches from his face then he wouldn’t have done it. But she was so close, and she smiles into him, open and warm and his arms are around her waist, hers cradling his face, and it’s more touch than he knows what to do with, far less than anything he’d be willing to give up. 

It lasts a languid second and then ends too soon, her gorgeous eyes meeting his own, her basically in his lap. He knows that this is basically a bar-kiss between two coworkers, and that it is unlikely to be anything but that, but he kind of needs it to not be. Needs it to be more. 

“I don’t-I don’t know if you wanted to do that or if you want me to stop, but I really, really like you, and I know we work together and you might not like me back, I mean, probably not, right? But-“

“Spencer.” Her soft fingers are still brushing against his face, and he can’t help but be grateful for it. “I’m free tomorrow night.”

He’s not usually good at deciphering social cues that don’t relate to serial killers, but this one- it seems intentional. Her hands move from his cheek (and he winces, visibly) before wrapping both arms around his neck. It’s awfully romantic to be anything else. 

“Do you want to be my plans?” 

“Yes.”

[iprefertheterminsane]

Ive mentioned this on twitter but i feel the absolute need to reiterate how absolutely FUCKED the circumstances of Hob's immortality actually is.

It isnt a REWARD or PUNISHMENT for something he'd done. At no point was Hob ACTIVELY consulted about it. He was DRUNK, freshly returned from fighting a war for a king that let half his village (and likely his entire family) die from the Black Plague. Hob's immortality was the result of a wager between two entities of higher power than most Gods, he was the pawn of a GAME. Sure, Death had ulterior motives (wanting to give Dream a friend and for him to get out of the house.) But as far as Dream was aware this entire debacle was to see how long this measly peasant of a human could stand being alive before it drives him insane. In fact, the Centennial dates were so he could periodically check and WATCH.

Effectively, it was like if two people picked up some random grasshopper and dropped him into a mug of wine, watching to see how long he would stay alive with no lifeline. Humans arent DESIGNED to live that long.

AND YET. HOB DID.

For the most BATSHIT reason of....wanting to experience the mundanity and unfiltered joy of simple living. Do you understand how INSANE that is? And Dreamling as a concept is...my friend had explained it as; imagine defying God's will SO HARD HE FALLS IN LOVE WITH YOU. Imagine being SO UNHINGED in hope and optimism of Earthly Experiences an entity powerful than most Gods that HATE humans FALLS IN LOVE WITH YOU.

Like, FUCK. This ship drives me crazy. There is simply nobody out there like Robert "Hob" Gadling and there will be no other.

[thexianzhoujade]

YOU'RE NOT HER | genshin impact fanfiction. zhongli x gn!reader — heavy angst, hanahaki disease, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood & gagging (almost vomit), death, ‘unrequited’ love

idle chatter. this is a reupload from my old blog so if you want to argue that i'm stealing, i'm literally robbing myself <3 library waiting list. @lovingluxury @dumbificat @starryshinyskies @ryuryuryuyurboat @ainescribe @bfjax @soleillunne @sangoqueenkoko

aventurine's addition. "alexi, darling, don't forget to link 'you should have been her' for the readers. it is the infamous second part, after all."

oh that man, that gorgeous, benevolent man you’d fell in love with all those moons ago; with dark hair that fades into a glowing orange, resemblant of the sunset and his own geo vision. you had fell in love, yes - you thought he had too. the thought crosses your mind whenever he’s not by your side, not within your grasp like he usually is. typically, the man was serving his job at the wangsheng funeral parlour as a consultant.

you grimace when the tight feeling in your ribcage suffocates you. it’s getting stronger as time goes on, knocking the breath right out of your lungs and leaving you hacking up blood into a white handkerchief. zhongli had expressed no ends of concern about the situation when he’d find the bloodied handkerchiefs scattered around your shared home, ushering you to doctor baizhu as soon as possible.

you had begged baizhu not to utter a word of your condition to zhongli. he returned your pleads with a sorrowful look.

how could your love be so unrequited? had you been the only one true to your word this whole time? the mere thought stings at your eyes, tears threatening to spill as you shakily wash the dishes. zhongli isn’t home, not for a few more hours. he said he had business to attend to - that meant it wasn’t work related. was he cheating? you shake the sour thought away from your head, scowling.

you wonder if the oh-so-wise man could ever read the wrinkles appearing on your skin, aging you with every passing concern that you don’t voice aloud, with every day that goes by where you’re suffocating from the inside out. he never mentions it, perhaps he simply does not care. you feel the knot in your throat, sickening as you gag and splutter into the soapy water of the sink. you keep gagging, the knot doesn’t budge and you’re filled with an overwhelming sense of nausea.

your body grows tired. you slip down to your knees, banging elbows and other limp limbs against kitchen cabinets as you go down. finally, with one last cough, the knot exits your mouth. it falls to the wood floorboards beneath you, slimy and covered in blood but undoubtedly recognised as a glaze lily. its petals are shut, you understand that there is no music, no lullaby to be heard to lull the glaze lily to bloom. it’s an ancient flower, one you always used to admire before this curse laid upon you.

the front door to your house opens, keys jingling in a specific man’s gloved hands as he enters. you hurry to throw the glaze lily out of the kitchen window, submerging your hands in the sink once more as the metallic taste of blood and lingering aftermath of a floral tang swarms your mouth. you hold your breath, hoping you didn’t have the appearance of someone who had just coughed up a flower so violently.

a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, suddenly you’re hit with the faint smell of aged wine and familiar scent of freshly dug earth. you smile at the thought, leaning back into his chest despite the pain tearing at your lungs and the burning sensation left behind in your throat.

“you’ve been coughing again—” zhongli’s voice reverberates close to your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin and your eyes raise from the dirty water to your reflection in the kitchen window, where zhongli’s warm amber eyes are staring at you so deeply.

“it’s okay, my love, i promise,” you lie through your teeth, hoping the man sincerely couldn’t read through you the way he used to, “this time it was a smaller amount than the last…”

you try to sound cheerful in your approach to the topic, careful to maintain that personality he’d apparently fell in love with one day in liyue harbour. zhongli makes a noise - is he doubting you? you watch as a gloved hand raises, nearing your face before his thumb wipes gently at a trickle of blood leading from the corner of your lips.

“i’ll speak to doctor baizhu in the morning,” zhongli states firmly, you almost bite back the words that taste bitter about him ‘caring’ for you, “perhaps you need a higher dose of your medication.”

the medication in question surely had been a ruse to fool the man, though you did not expect it to have worked. changsheng had uttered that you could not leave the bubu pharmacy without some form of medication, it’d look absurd in the eyes of the wangsheng funeral parlour consultant. in agreement, baizhu had qiqi mix violetgrass powder with sugar - the instructions were simple, mix it into the hot tea you’d drink with zhongli every evening.

it was sweet, not at all bitter and the scent of violetgrass made it bearable. apparently the inclusion of herbal properties was enough to fool your dearest partner or so you thought.

—

it’s hard to understand the fine line between a lie and a truth when the past few months, you’d been dating a man for someone whomst he was not. it was a struggle to understand the situation but it kept you up for endless nights, counting stars and tending to the numerous flora you’d planted in the garden underneath the moonlight - courtesy of your friend the traveler for appearing with so many countless seeds of blooms from across teyvat.

yet as you sit on the grass, staring at the pile of dead - and dying - glaze lilies you had acquired, the stars twinkling endlessly above you, you understood why he’d done it. he was judicious, hoping to protect you from his past yet keep you as his future. the thought made that pain in your chest tighten. you let out a futile whimper into the quiet night.

as you ponder zhongli’s status as liyue’s archon - the geo archon of all people, you begin to question your previous doubts. your breaths become struggled, your chest heaving as you lay on your back for some relief. trembling fingertips brush amongst blades of grass, hoping for a distraction as tears spill down your cheeks.

liyue is a beautiful country with vast mountains and yellowed plains that seem to stretch endlessly. its civilisation had become fruitful at the expense of liyue harbor, bustling with trade and the thing your partner had appeared to love the most; contracts. he has every right to be proud of the nation liyue had built to this day, despite claiming that he’d ultimately retired - “the people can do without me, they’ve proved that much.”

blood trickles from your mouth but it’s not gentle, it’s a rush, like a waterfall as it spills down the sides of your face and pools on the grass below you. it’s littered in an array of blue and white petals, matching that of glaze lilies - a flower you’d grown to hate. you struggle to get oxygen into your lungs with the rising level of blood that doesn’t dissipate from your parted lips, suffocating you as you try to no ends to breathe through your nose.

that is, if there was room in your lungs for such oxygen. twists and turns of branches and roots that climb to the walls of your organs, painting them with glaze lilies and filling them with fallen petals every time a flower wilts from the unreasonable conditions inside your body.

you’re proud of liyue; the magnificent, beautiful nation of geo that you got to experience in all of its glory. zhongli often times referred to liyue with feminine pronouns and as the light dies from your eyes and your chest ceases to rise, you can only think one thing with your last dying breath.

you’re not her.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | reblogs appreciated | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[tsukishimakeiswife]

You just spent the dirtiest night of your life with Geto Suguru.

a/n- this song reminded me of him<3 you could play it throughout the post if you'd like.

------

One chance. That's what you told yourself and Geto before agreeing to go on a date with him. Everything about him was so alluring. You knew once you crossed a certain line with him, there would be no going back. Not with him. In the 3 years you worked with Geto Suguru, not once did you resist catching a glance at him. How could you not? When he looked at you as if you were his only source of life. He was perfect and amazing at everything he did. That's also why you loathed him. Anything you did, he would do it better, that too with such ease.

Hating him wasn't easy, either. Your seniors would want you to consult him if there was any issue. Got a problem with your paycheck? Ask Geto. Want a sick leave? Ask Geto. And wouldn't he enjoy it when you came to him, seeking help? His signature smirk plastered across his face every time you stood outside his office. He was so infuriating, yet so attractive.

One day, he finally pushed you over the edge. A sales pitch you worked on for weeks was scraped just because Geto had a better idea. 'Of course, they should just let him run the company, huh?' You made the not-so-graceful decision of walking out of the meeting and going back to your office. You got your stuff, clearly done for the day, and left the building soon after. Trying to haul the cab in horrendous city traffic only frustrated you further. That was until someone put their hand on your shoulder, almost making you jump.

There he stood, looking egregiously hot. He stood in front of you with his shoulder-length hair in a half bun and a shirt that hugged him just right. He fixed his tie before speaking up after what felt like an eternity of eye contact.

"I didn't mean for that to happen- look, (y/n). I know you hate me right now, but let me make it up to you."

And that's how you ended up here. Sitting in front of him so prettily, adorned in your most breathtaking dress and high heels- to look somewhat tall next to his large build. You made sure to look your best, and the way his eyes scanned your body made your efforts worth them. The glass of wine in your hand, long forgotten as you leaned back and heard him speak. The tension between you two was wild. The air was heavy and thick. The ambiance of the restaurant didn't help much, either. You were sure he picked such a place on purpose.

However, that wasn't the craziest part about tonight. It was the fact that you were enjoying this so much. His eyes never left yours, alternating between your lips and orbs while you spoke. He leaned in to 'hear' you better and 'accidentally' brushed his knees against yours. Tonight, there was something different in him. It was as if nothing was stopping him. Hunger was apparent in his eyes. He was determined to get what he wanted.

You saw through his game. You weren't dumb, and he knew it. He wanted you to make the first move. Moreover, with every second passing, it seemed more difficult not to do that.

"Easier said than done, love. You ne-", he stopped talking immediately. He had something better to focus on now. Your freshly manicured nails were currently placed on his thigh. If his winning this silly game meant what you thought it did, then you'd take it any day. You were attracted to Geto, more than anything at the moment. His eyes darkened and in the blink of an eye, his entire aura shifted. You felt smaller, and you didn't think that was possible with Geto. He called the waiter for the cheque almost as if in a hurry.

The two of you got up and he immediately took your hand in his, taking you towards the elevator, maybe. You didn't care. Not when Geto has you in such a state. And he hasn't even touched you yet.

The two of you enter the elevator, finally alone. He didn't react, though. All you wanted to do was kiss him, taste him, feel him. His calm composure, on the contrary, was far from your flustered state. He looked down to meet your gaze as you did the same, bodies facing each other, but not reacting.

The lift doors opened and he immediately walked out. You tried to keep up with him, but he was practically dragging you now. You entered the suite he'd booked for you and the man in front of you didn't even wait for the door to close before pinning you against it. He leaned down to make sure he was just above you, his hair falling out of place onto yours. You tucked the strands of his hair behind his ears before pulling him down to kiss him.

You could physically feel the smile on his face when you did, and he didn't spare you for a second. His hands immediately reached for your throat and the other one pressed your lower back to bring you closer to him. The kiss was electric, hot, passionate, and desperate. Geto Suguru kissed hard. He gently led you towards the bedroom- not breaking the kiss for a second. You felt ecstatic, his hand on your throat applying the slightest amount of pressure- the kiss which was so hot you felt dizzy already. Breaking apart to catch your breath; you looked into his eyes, his pupils were completely blown out; his hair was a mess now; he was so pretty.

He pushed you onto the bed and you were now lying on your back. Geto caged you in before kissing your jaw, your neck- biting and leaving marks with utmost grace. He kissed you on that spot behind your ears, to which you sharply exhaled. He smirked against your skin and whispered in your ears, "I haven't even done anything yet, and look how you're reacting." you rolled your eyes and scoffed before whining at the feeling of his teeth sinking into your soft skin. Your hands were on his neck, playing with his hair and occasionally tugging on them. It drove him crazy.

He gave you a genuine look as his hands landed on the hem of your dress, making sure you were still okay with this- to which you nodded. He slipped your dress off and tossed it aside, taking in what was in front of him. It was as if he was consuming you completely, his gaze was dark- it sucked you in, trapped you inside. You tugged on his hand for him to hurry. He kissed you again and you unbuttoned his shirt. You knew he had an amazing body, but it was nothing like you'd imagined. There really was not a single thing in him that you could complain about.

He kissed down your chest, taking off your bra and stopping right at your stomach. He looked straight into your eyes and said, "What do you want me to do, love?" your breath hitched and you hesitated. You felt more needy than ever, Geto knew that. But he had to show you he had power over you, didn't he?

"Geto, please. I need you," you said- whispered. He raised his eyebrow to indicate that he'll have to hear you again. "You'll have to be louder- and more specific." he retorted.

"I want you to fuck me, there?" you almost spat out. Only getting more and more frustrated. You sneaked in a 'please, Geto' to make sure he didn't get pissed. All he did was simply nod while taking off your lace panties. He didn't hesitate for a second before shoving two of his long, rough fingers into your cunt. A loud whine left your lips and your hands immediately covered your mouth, trying their best to muffle your moans- screams. His fingers were long. You meant that. He stretched you out and immediately began pumping in and out. He tutted and shook his head- almost as if he was disappointed.

"I wanna hear you, baby. Covering your pretty mouth won't help. And, it's Suguru for you." at this point, anything this man said only made you wetter. He found your g-spot effortlessly, abusing it as he added a third finger. "Fuck- Suguru, too much." your back arched and your breath hitched with every thrust. He could tell you were getting close. "Too much? This isn't enough, my love." his thumb was now on your clit, toying with it as if it wasn't making you whimper and moan out his name. His free hand caressed your face, tucking your hair behind your ear and locking fingers with yours.

You were close, lewd sounds echoed through the suite and his harsh, degrading comments only got you riled up more. "gonna cum- shit. hah- Suguru, more." He chuckled before picking up his pace. "Come on, come for me." pushing you over the edge. You screamed out his name and held onto his hand as your orgasm washed over you. It was ecstatic. Your body spasmed and you tried to catch your breath. Your orgasm barely passed by before you hear his trousers drop to the floor.

"Don't think we're done, love. I meant what I said. We're just getting started." he took off his boxers revealing what he'd been hiding the entire time. This man was big. And you meant that. A wave of shock and excitement passed your body as you gasped at the sight before you.

"Get on your knees for me." you nod and shuffle around till your knees and elbows are on the mattress, your ass is up and your hair brought to one side of your face. His hand trails along your spine kneads your ass before giving it a harsh slap.

“I’m gonna go slow at first, tell me when you’re comfortable, hm?” he says as he coats his cock with your slick. He aligns himself and slowly enters your hole. A sharp exhale left your mouth as you groaned and threw your head back. He was way bigger than you expected, you bit your lip to drift your attention away from the sting you felt. He leaned forward so that his chest was on your back now and he sank his teeth into your neck while entering you slowly. You whimpered and tears pooled in your eyes, carrying your mascara with them as they ran across your cheek. He kissed your tears away and whispered how ‘you’re such a good girl’ and you’re ‘so obedient for him’

After what felt like an eternity, he completely bottomed out and the pain slowly faded away- transforming into the most pleasure you’ve ever had. You gave him a quick nod which was his signal. He turned immediately. His pace increased and he went faster- harder. Your face was now smushed against the pillow while you screamed in pleasure. His hand rubbed against your overstimulated clit- only making you cry out more as you begged him to slow down, to go easy on you. His hips snapped against yours picking up his pace despite your cries.

You could feel your next orgasm nearing, feeling embarrassed over how much tighter your cunt got with every thrust, a groan left his lips and he grabbed a fistful of your hair to lift you up to his level, your back pressed against his strong chest.

“You’re gonna be a good slut for me and take it, yeah? I see the way you’d look at me everyday. Fucking me with your eyes in front of everyone. Now take it like a good girl.” you cried out his name and tried to grab his hand that was currently abusing your clit. Your choked cries and unsuccessful attempts at getting him to slow down did nothing but boost his ego more. He let go of your hair letting you fall back onto the pillow and grabbed your face, turning it to the side, “You’re not gonna look away, okay?” he said.

You bit your lip and nodded at him as you grabbed the bedsheets, seeking support from the silk sheet underneath the two of you. He thought you looked beautiful, your pouty lips were swollen and glistened with your own saliva on them, your cheeks stained with mascara and your eyes, half lidded and pooled with tears. You looked ethereal.

With a final thrust you came around him, crying out choked moans and whines as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt like you couldn’t think anymore. Geto thrusted into you throughout your orgasm and gently lifted you up while he fucked into you, you gasped as you still clinged onto him. This man was strong- he lifted you off the ground while fucking into you as if it was no big deal.

By the time you rode out your high, you realized you were pressed against the glass window of your suite. The cold glass made you hiss as you looked down at the busy street. Humiliation took over you as you looked at Geto with a confused face. You were tired, that's for sure. A mess. That was an accurate word to describe your state right now. Geto pulled out of your abused hole and you whined at the empty feeling, still breathing heavily from your last orgasm. He turned you around to face him.

"You alright there?" he tilted his face to the side and leaned down to lock lips with yours. He was soft, kind, and caring. At the same time time; he was rough, mean, and sadistic. He had you wrapped around his finger. You whispered his name out when he slowly entered you again. Your back arched and you dug your nails into his back. He hissed at your actions and groaned your name out. Your name left his lips as if it was his favourite word.

His pace increased and you clung onto him with every bit of strength left in you. Your mind felt foggy and you didn't know what took over you, you spoke up. "Suguru, let me ride you. Please." it was a weak whisper. He wouldn't have been able to hear you if it wasn't for how close the two of you were. He slowed down and carried you to the bed, placing you down before getting on. He made himself comfortable against the bedframe and tapped on his thigh, "There's nothing I would love more, love."

You weren't so sure if that was a mistake or not.

"Tired already? You've barely moved."

"So gorgeous, all f'me."

"Look at you, my cock-drunk princess."

"Want me to lend a hand?" he smirked. He had the 'genius' idea of tying your hands behind your back before you got on top of him. You definitely made a mistake with your suggestion. Your head was on his shoulder now. Your thighs felt like they were on fire. Every single movement made you cry out. He didn't help you out, either. His large cock only adding to your mix of pleasure and pain. He enjoyed this more than anything. Your struggle to take him and maintain balance riled him up even more. You groaned at his words and nodded into his shoulder.

"What was that? You're gonna have to tell me." you can't believe you almost forgot why you hated him so much. He grabbed your face by the neck and brought you to face him, inches apart. You bit your lip to muffle out your moans and rolled your eyes. He looked at you, waiting for you to speak. "Help me, Suguru." "Please," you added, before he spoke up, causing him to smile.

"Whatever you say, love," he whispered in your ear before gripping your hips and bucking his hips upwards. You gasped at the sudden movement and lost balance, falling back onto his shoulder as you cried out his name. He was close, and so were you. Your whines and moans of his name made him feel like his body was on fire. You had no idea how obsessed he was with you. And there you were, in front of him, breaking down because of him.

"Fuck, (y/n). You're driving me crazy." he pulled you up and looked at you, and you didn't dare to look away from him. No, if you did, you were sure he would ruin you. His words threw you over the edge as you tightened around him and came. He hissed at you and shot his seed into you. He held onto you as you clawed at his chest- riding out your high.

The two of you stayed in the same position for who knows how long. "I thought this was supposed to be an apology dinner." you panted out.

"Would you rather have that?"

"...no."

You let out a tired giggle before looking up to meet his eyes, smiling and pulling him into a simple, pure, passionate kiss.

"I still dislike you, though,"

“I wouldn’t pass a judgment so soon. After all, I’m not done with you yet.” he said, while his hands moved down your body.

———

part two??

[https-furina]

✎ you’re not her. ft. zhongli x fem!reader content. heavy angst, hanahaki disease, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood & gagging (almost vomit), death, ‘unrequited’ love. w.c. tba.

you should have been her — part two.

oh that man, that gorgeous, benevolent man you’d fell in love with all those moons ago; with dark hair that fades into a glowing orange, resemblant of the sunset and his own geo vision. you had fell in love, yes - you thought he had too. the thought crosses your mind whenever he’s not by your side, not within your grasp like he usually is. typically, the man was serving his job at the wangsheng funeral parlour as a consultant.

you grimace when the tight feeling in your ribcage suffocates you. it’s getting stronger as time goes on, knocking the breath right out of your lungs and leaving you hacking up blood into a white handkerchief. zhongli had expressed no ends of concern about the situation when he’d find the bloodied handkerchiefs scattered around your shared home, ushering you to doctor baizhu as soon as possible.

you had begged baizhu not to utter a word of your condition to zhongli. he returned your pleads with a sorrowful look.

how could your love be so unrequited? had you been the only one true to your word this whole time? the mere thought stings at your eyes, tears threatening to spill as you shakily wash the dishes. zhongli isn’t home, not for a few more hours. he said he had business to attend to - that meant it wasn’t work related. was he cheating? you shake the sour thought away from your head, scowling.

you wonder if the oh-so-wise man could ever read the wrinkles appearing on your skin, aging you with every passing concern that you don’t voice aloud, with every day that goes by where you’re suffocating from the inside out. he never mentions it, perhaps he simply does not care. you feel the knot in your throat, sickening as you gag and splutter into the soapy water of the sink. you keep gagging, the knot doesn’t budge and you’re filled with an overwhelming sense of nausea.

your body grows tired. you slip down to your knees, banging elbows and other limp limbs against kitchen cabinets as you go down. finally, with one last cough, the knot exits your mouth. it falls to the wood floorboards beneath you, slimy and covered in blood but undoubtedly recognised as a glaze lily. its petals are shut, you understand that there is no music, no lullaby to be heard to lull the glaze lily to bloom. it’s an ancient flower, one you always used to admire before this curse laid upon you.

the front door to your house opens, keys jingling in a specific man’s gloved hands as he enters. you hurry to throw the glaze lily out of the kitchen window, submerging your hands in the sink once more as the metallic taste of blood and lingering aftermath of a floral tang swarms your mouth. you hold your breath, hoping you didn’t have the appearance of someone who had just coughed up a flower so violently.

a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, suddenly you’re hit with the faint smell of aged wine and familiar scent of freshly dug earth. you smile at the thought, leaning back into his chest despite the pain tearing at your lungs and the burning sensation left behind in your throat.

“you’ve been coughing again—” zhongli’s voice reverberates close to your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin and your eyes raise from the dirty water to your reflection in the kitchen window, where zhongli’s warm amber eyes are staring at you so deeply.

“it’s okay, my love, i promise,” you lie through your teeth, hoping the man sincerely couldn’t read through you the way he used to, “this time it was a smaller amount than the last…”

you try to sound cheerful in your approach to the topic, careful to maintain that personality he’d apparently fell in love with one day in liyue harbour. zhongli makes a noise - is he doubting you? you watch as a gloved hand raises, nearing your face before his thumb wipes gently at a trickle of blood leading from the corner of your lips.

“i’ll speak to doctor baizhu in the morning,” zhongli states firmly, you almost bite back the words that taste bitter about him ‘caring’ for you, “perhaps you need a higher dose of your medication.”

the medication in question surely had been a ruse to fool the man, though you did not expect it to have worked. changsheng had uttered that you could not leave the bubu pharmacy without some form of medication, it’d look absurd in the eyes of the wangsheng funeral parlour consultant. in agreement, baizhu had qiqi mix violetgrass powder with sugar - the instructions were simple, mix it into the hot tea you’d drink with zhongli every evening.

it was sweet, not at all bitter and the scent of violetgrass made it bearable. apparently the inclusion of herbal properties was enough to fool your dearest partner or so you thought.

—

it’s hard to understand the fine line between a lie and a truth when the past few months, you’d been dating a man for someone whomst he was not. it was a struggle to understand the situation but it kept you up for endless nights, counting stars and tending to the numerous flora you’d planted in the garden underneath the moonlight - courtesy of your friend the traveler for appearing with so many countless seeds of blooms from across teyvat.

yet as you sit on the grass, staring at the pile of dead - and dying - glaze lilies you had acquired, the stars twinkling endlessly above you, you understood why he’d done it. he was judicious, hoping to protect you from his past yet keep you as his future. the thought made that pain in your chest tighten. you let out a futile whimper into the quiet night.

as you ponder zhongli’s status as liyue’s archon - the geo archon of all people, you begin to question your previous doubts. your breaths become struggled, your chest heaving as you lay on your back for some relief. trembling fingertips brush amongst blades of grass, hoping for a distraction as tears spill down your cheeks.

liyue is a beautiful country with vast mountains and yellowed plains that seem to stretch endlessly. its civilisation had become fruitful at the expense of liyue harbor, bustling with trade and the thing your partner had appeared to love the most; contracts. he has every right to be proud of the nation liyue had built to this day, despite claiming that he’d ultimately retired - “the people can do without me, they’ve proved that much.”

blood trickles from your mouth but it’s not gentle, it’s a rush, like a waterfall as it spills down the sides of your face and pools on the grass below you. it’s littered in an array of blue and white petals, matching that of glaze lilies - a flower you’d grown to hate. you struggle to get oxygen into your lungs with the rising level of blood that doesn’t dissipate from your parted lips, suffocating you as you try to no ends to breathe through your nose.

that is, if there was room in your lungs for such oxygen. twists and turns of branches and roots that climb to the walls of your organs, painting them with glaze lilies and filling them with fallen petals every time a flower wilts from the unreasonable conditions inside your body.

you’re proud of liyue; the magnificent, beautiful nation of geo that you got to experience in all of its glory. zhongli often times referred to liyue with feminine pronouns and as the light dies from your eyes and your chest ceases to rise, you can only think one thing with your last dying breath.

you’re not her.

© https-furina 2023.

[neoplatinum]

hold me tight - bts | kim dahyun

summary: maybe cupid could save us

pairing: dahyun x fem!reader

themes: angst, fluff, tension, use of flashbacks in italics, marriage counseling, reader insecurity, past physical violence (against original male character, not any member of twice), implied sex, some of twice!

wc: 7.2k

polished silverware, two table napkins, two sets of forks, and knives. a draped tablecloth, and the long wooden table stretching down the dining room. on two ends are two lost souls, once connected with bountiful joy and prosperity. now sat farther apart than the two ends of a colossal ship. barely stitched together by unspoken words and exhaustion.

"what time?" you dig into your steak, back and forth sliding it down the tender meat.

"2pm tomorrow. should i call your assistant?" dahyun digs at her roasted potatoes, a little sweet, just the way she likes it.

"no need, i'll be there." you counter, stabbing the slice of steak, digging into it. pushing the green peas a bit to the left, and sipping the wine. a delicacy truly.

"good." she says quietly, "pass me the pepper?" you look up, the bottle is in the middle.

the dmz line, you lean foward, grabbing a hold of the glass bottle, placing it into her hand.

"here."

"thank you."

the rest of the dinner is followed by the sounds of silverware, and only silverware.

--

dr. yoo jeongyeon, phd, lcpc

you stare at the plaque, gold serif lettering, bold face on top of a black rectangle, sitting directly in the middle of the edge of her desk. your loafers gently tapping the carpeted floor, in time with each tick of a second.

she looks confident, shoulders back and sinking into her leather chair. glasses perched on her nose, a montblanc in hand. eyes a little empty, but inviting, a little too inviting.

"thank you both for joining us today, first time?" dr. yoo starts, eyes taking a slow drift from dahyun to you.

dahyun's legs are tucked together, low heels and a brown suit. she leans forward at dr. yoo's question. "yes, first time."

a simple nod, and a scribble along her notepad. you tilt your head to the right.

"each session with me runs fifty minutes, no longer. if needed, it can be cut short." she says, placing some files away, shuffling paper away, and fixing her glasses. you both nod at the terms. "lovely, could i have you both introduce yourselves?" she continues, eyes back on you and dahyun.

you stare at dahyun.

"i'm dahyun, 26, a fashion designer and a wine enthusiast, lovely to meet you." dahyun stands up, offering a handshake. dr. yoo smiles lightly and shakes it.

"and you?"

"i'm dahyun's wife, 26, ceo and founder of future consultants llc, and a tennis enthusiast."

dr. yoo's eyes stare at you, but her pens moves quickly along the page.

dahyun stares at you, before looking back at her folded hands.

"thank you both, now could you both explain why you are here?" her eyes come back up, those glasses hanging so low is making you mad.

dahyun coughs into her hand.

"we need help." a little unsure, but a desperate plea. your foot stops tapping on the carpeted floor.

dr. yoo scribbles along a new line.

"and you?" the doctor stares at you. you sit up, fixing the buttons on your blazer.

"we're...not the same as we used to be." you say, pulling one leg over the other. dr. yoo nods at that, another line filled.

"alright, now, let me give you some insight on me. i'm dr. yoo jeongyeon, did my phd in human psychology, masters in counseling and bachelor's in neurology. and i'm a lcpc: licensed clinical professional counselor. you can say i'm a people enthusiast." she smiles lightly, dahyun laughs under her breath.

your foot goes back to tapping.

"let's get into it." she sets down the notepad. "could you tell me how you both met?"

--

"what's the maturity date for a treasury bond?"

"20 - 30 years, you seriously have to try harder, sam." you laugh, taking another sip of your beer. sam just grins and flips over a new flashcard.

"okay smarty pants, what are floating-rate notes?" sam taps the index card on the bar table. eyes a little playful, he always did like making you work for your reward.

"they're-"

"stop it ryan." behind you is the voice of a woman, her back hitting yours, nearly spilling your beer. you turn around, a man towering over her, hand on her wrist and his firm grip, stopping her. no matter how hard she tries to pull.

you signal sam.

"take your hand off her." you press down on his wrist, holding his arm in place. the woman stares at you and sam, bewildered eyes and still pulling against ryan's hold.

"fuck off." he spits in your face.

"yeah? let's see how your face looks after this pretty boy." you slam into his chest, him tumbling backwards, foot hitting the barstool and a loud thud hitting the floor. you spot the submariner on his wrist shining under the bar light, fuck.

sam's at the ready, hand on a switchblade, you signal him back, not him.

the woman gasps, hand immediately shooting her sore wrists, shit it looks bad. ryan's still on the group, and then he shoots up. hands at the ready to land a punch, weak form though. you sidestep him, letting him fall forward.

"daddy can't pay to fix your crooked nose?" you smirk at him, taunting him to do anything. his eyes ablaze as he tries again. what a foolish boy.

you let him try and land a left hook, before you start punching his jaw, one good liver punch and he topples over. damn, your jaw hurts too, men like him throw too much of their power into their punches.

"fuck, sam." you groan to your friend, hand trying to pop your jaw back into place. you do, letting out a low shout, before getting your stuff.

stay too long and then he'll call the cops, the last thing you need is another fine print on your academic file. you stumble forward, feeling blood dripping down the side of your head, cheeky bastard, he had rings on.

you barely manage to push the bar door, string of curses falling out of your lip, the cold air immediately frosting your breath. damn it all, and you left your beer half finished.

"excuse me!" the woman's voice carries from the door, and you can see her, urgently trying to get to you. "thank you so much back there."

she's trying to offer you some napkins from her clutch, all you can do it hope that liver punch suckered him to stay on the ground long enough for you to dissapear.

"you have anyone safe?"

"safe?"

you gesture a bit. "like a friend maybe? did you come alone?"

you lean to the side trying to get a glimpse of pretty boy, but he's no where in sight. a good thing. you can see sam though, shoving bills at the bartender, and grabbing jackets.

"no friends, i came with him." her hand goes back to her bruised wrist, yeah that looks awful. you're very glad you stepped in.

"listen, i need to leave now. i would love to do the whole 'thank you, you're welcome' pleasantries, but I don't know how long he'll stay down before he calls the cops."

you explain, seeing sam opening the bar door, urgent eyes calling for you to disappear into the night.

"could you take me home, i really have no other way to get back." you stare into the bar, oh pretty boy's up, shouting at a bartender. you need to exit NOW.

"okay, let's go. i know you're wearing heels, but keep up." you offer a hand, and disappear into the back alleyway. by the time you just turn around the corner at the end, you can hear the distant voice outside the bar.

you're finally in sam's beater car, an old hand-me-down from his grandma, with the girl from the bar in the backseat.

she keeps watching you from the mirror.

"where do you live?" you pull out of the back lot, she's still soothing her bruised wrist.

"eleanor court, upper east side." damn shit, of course she's rich too, loaded with daddy's money just like that dude you suckered punched. how you always manage being at the hands of rich people, you hope to find out soon, because this sucks.

the drive's pretty silent, sam's got his old 80s mixtapes playing from the car radio. and he's humming along as he taps on his passenger door, you're glad that at least one of you has a car.

"woah..." sam brings you out of your thinking. woah is correct, even sam can see it.

colonial style homes the size of manors down the perfectly paved roads. long outdoor lamp lights lining the street. lush bushes and trees lining the sides of the house. not a single police car in sight, you can even see fountains spouting water from a statue.

what a bunch of crap.

"dude, she's asleep." sam taps your shoulder, you quickly put his car in park. looking at her from the rear view, damn she is asleep, jacket covering her torso but her head leaning against the window.

damn, damn, damn.

one wrong HOA member being curious, and you can easily be thrown in jail for the rest of your life. you open your door, rushing to the backseat. opening the door, and placing your hand against her head to keep her body from falling out of the car.

"miss, we're home." she just curls into your hand. "sam, help me hold her up." he nods, using his bodyweight as a rest for the girl's body. you begin searching through her clutch, hopefully she has an id inside.

"kim dahyun.....501 eleanor court." you shove the id back into her clutch. "sam move." you grab a hold of her body, picking her body up. wrapping the jacket and clutch over top of her.

"stay in the car. i'll bring her in." you began walking down the eerily quiet neighborhood, goodness rich people are so pretentious. you struggle to open the gate. then you hear a low mechanic voice.

"hello, who are you?"

"hi, i'm just here to drop off a kim dahyun. she had an issue with some guy at the bar, and she needed someone to take her home." you speak into it, a clicking noise and then the metal box goes silent.

the large metal gates open, you step in, walking up to the front porch, pillars lining the wide entrance.

goodness, you need to get out of this neighborhood. the large wooden door opens and you see two people, a suited man and a maid. of course.

"miss dahyun?" the maid begans fussing over her, hand on her cheek, "oh my!" a loud gasp at the bruised wrist. you drop her into the leather couch.

"what happened?" the butler asks you, offering a towel at your dried blood.

you try your best to keep yourself from dirtying the house, both of them keep staring at you though.

"uh, some guy at the bar, ryan. he kept bruising her wrist, so i had to step in." you point at your head. the butler nods, and the maid begins inspecting the bruise.

"i told miss dahyun to stop seeing him." the butler explains, placing the jacket to cover her.

you nod, so this wasn't even the first time. the maid returns with soothing cream, applying the ointment over her bruised wrists. you stand idly by the couch, a little confused with what to do here.

you stare at dahyun's face, she's rather pretty is what you land on, before the man's voice brings you out of your focus.

"let me offer you a new shirt." you look down, and it does look like you just got into the ring with rocky, blood-dried splotches all over. the butler disappears before you can even say no.

with a folded new shirt, linen and italian, goodness these people have too much money, you shuffle into a bathroom.

changing into it quickly, eyeing all the towels and expensive soaps on the counter. you fix yourself up and exit, seeing the butler and maid still crowding around the girl.

"i, i really should leave. i'm sorry." the butler and maid are still trying to get you to stay, to offer some reward, but really all you want to do is leave this hellscape. unfamiliar faces, with unfamiliar mannerisms, its all too much.

--

"she saved me from a sleazy guy at a bar." dr. yoo jots it down.

"and you?"

"i, i guess i did?"

"you guess?"

"i, yes, i saved her from the sleazy guy." dr. yoo nods.

the ticking sound comes back clearer in your ear. the repetitive ticking feels like tumbling down a hill, imminent and quick swift death.

"let's move on then, how did you two start dating?"

"dahyun was insistent on paying me back for the bar, kept telling me she needed to." you offer.

dr. yoo nods, another scribble along the notepad. then she pulled the file from her desk, and two separate questionnaires werefilled out.

"and it says here, you both attended the same university." ever since dahyun found out you two attended the same university, she began urging you for dinner.

you tried very hard to say no, but in the quad, down the main academic path. she just kept finding you, like a needle in a haystick, she always managed to pick you out from the hundreds of students.

if she wasn't so nice about it, you might have considered it creepy.

"yes, brown." you nod.

"lovely school, my friend's alma mater." dr. yoo comments and lifts her head once more from the notepad.

"how's your sex life?"

you see dahyun's feet uncross and cross again. while you start tapping your foot again.

"we haven't done it," dahyun begins, "in a long while."

dr. yoo nods, and turns to you. "how does that make you feel?"

"i'm not sure."

dr. yoo nods again, dahyun's feet uncross and cross again. the clock's still ticking on the wall.

you are sure it's non-judgmental, it just makes you aggravated, like you're being lectured on how to love.

dahyun can't remember the last time you two have cherished each other. dinner's filled with delicious food, to cover the absence of enticing conversation.

being married to the point of small talk, has drained you both more than you wanted to admit.

"this is still the first session, so let's start with simple exercises. try and vocalize your appreciation for each other. this can be as simple as: i appreciate you doing the dishes today. remember, speaking the unspoken words can change your relationship for the better." dr. yoo stands up, offering you both a handshake and walking you both out her office.

--

"i have to get back to work." you comment, letting dahyun walk in front of you. she nods at that, you both are busy people, even though it's important to try and fix your breaking relationship, you both have jobs to do.

"i'll see you for dinner?" she says as you open her car door, holding a hand over her head as she sits.

"yes, dinner." she nods at you, wanting you to say more. you want to as well, a little unsure.

"thank you, for being here today." she starts, staring up into you, you smile lightly back at her, dahyun's still got that warm eye smile that makes your heart burst.

"you as well dahyun." you lean your head down a bit, "charlie, get her to her office safely." he nods from the rear view. and with that you close her door. watching the car roll away from the sidewalk.

it's weird to have to see a professional for marriage counseling, but in your heart, you do want to fix things with dahyun.

sweet dahyun who is always so concerned with everyone's wellbeing; often neglecting her own. the rest of the afternoon, you try and focus on work, feeling downright awful about how your relationship has disintegrated.

--

"dahyun? i'm home." you enter the brownstone, a little more excited to be home. she's in the kitchen, an adorable brown bear apron over top.

"hey, i'm making pasta tonight." she's smiling.

"need help?"

"no, i should be good. could you set the table?" you leave the kitchen, entering the wine pantry, grabbing one that you know she loves. as well as two glasses, a gift from her parents.

dahyun's walking out with bowls of pasta, surprised to see the bottle in hand.

you begin pouring them into the two glasses, passing one to her, she thanks you quietly, placing down the bowls, and returning to the kitchen. you follow after her, grabbing knives and forks and napkins.

she's busy with another dish, and you hum to yourself, cleaning the silverware while waiting for her.

"damn it. fuck fuck fuck." dahyun's hand jerks back against the pot, her hand instantly going to hold it. you drop the silverware in the sink, quick strides towards her. she burned herself with the pot.

"dahyun, let me see." there are tears in her eyes, and she's shaking her head, she's always been so dismissive of her own pain. you take her hand gently, looking at it. it's definitely bad, red skin over top, hot to the touch. "let's run it under cold water, okay?"

she nods, even though there's tears in her eyes, and all she wants to do is just shrink into herself.

you run the water cold, feeling for it before letting it run over her burned finger. the tears in her eyes are still there, threatening to spill out.

then dahyun cries out. "i'm so stupid, i can't even cook a simple dinner." her tears are falling, much like the water over the hurt finger. like letting the pain rain out from her heart.

"oh dahyun, no you aren't stupid, you never were." you hug her tightly, letting her head fall to your shoulders, quietly crying against your shirt. she cries even harder at that, an anguish cry out for help,

you feel your own tears spring up. how you hate seeing dahyun cry.

"how is it?" you ask, pulling her away, looking at the finger under the water. it's less red, still there but it looks better.

"hurts." she pouts.

"let me go grab some ointment, stay here okay?" you leave, turning down the hallway to the bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet for ointment cream to sooth the pain.

you return quickly, gently dabbing the cream over her finger with a q-tip. letting out a low hiss, and you apologize quickly, letting her relax a bit before continuing to spread it around.

"okay?" you step back, throwing away the q-tip.

"it's good, thank you." then she slips away to finish dinner. you stand by letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding, with every bit of your heart, you hope that dahyun wants to work this out as much as you do.

--

"hello, come on in." dr. yoo's now a familiar face, always a warm if not stoic face. never showing signs of disinterest or much of an opinion, you begin to wonder what it takes to be a professional therapist.

"thank you." you let dahyun ahead of you, her sitting in the left armchair, while you sit on the right. fixing your blazer as you sit with one leg over the other. eyes watching dr. yoo in anticipation.

"how are you both doing?" she starts, that same montblanc in hand, a new shirt, dark blue and glasses hanging on her nose.

dahyun looks to you.

"we're doing okay." you offer, a little smile on your face.

"and you?" dr. yoo turns her head towards dahyun.

"we're doing better." dahyun fiddles with the band-aid over her finger. your eyes linger on it, a reminder of the small act of affection.

"lovely, last time you both mentioned that sexual intimacy had not happened in some time. has that changed since our last session?"

dahyun coughs into her hand, sinking into her armchair. you look away from her.

"no, it hasn't changed." dahyun speaks softly, like she's confessing a sin. you fold your hands over each other.

dr. yoo nods, another line written.

"how is work-life balance for you two?" dr. yoo stares into you, you sit up again.

"it's fine, the normal 9-6pm work day." dr. yoo jots that down. the clock continues to tick in your ears.

"what about you?" dahyun stares at the floor.

"it's okay, usually after work i'll unwind with some wine or television series." dahyun's always been so absorbed with her dramas, often asking you to join her to watch them. you often decline with the pre-tense of overflowing work from the day.

"ah yes, you mentioned you are a wine enthusiast." dahyun nods, wine has always been something she indulged in, you don't share the same love for the drink. finding it all a bit too much for yourself.

"could you tell me how that started?" your eyes go wide a bit, you never bothered to ask dahyun that, just assuming she's always enjoyed it.

"my late father used to own a winery, when i was able to start drinking he started training me as a sommelier." you knew of mr. kim's obsession with wine.

multiple wine cellars across his basement, walls lined with rows of wooden aisles, each row lined with bottles filling the basement. often times you snuck into the basement with dahyun sharing kisses and giggles away from the prying eyes of her parents.

"sorry to hear that mrs. kim, that's lovely to hear that you still has a passion for wine." dr. yoo continues, letting the words fly across the notepad. you uncross and cross the other leg over.

"and you mentioned you were a tennis enthusiast, how did that start?" dr. yoo's eyes are still on the notepad, pen quickly running across the page. you lean forward a bit.

"my friend sam, used to sneak us into the tennis bubble after work, when all the people left the country club. and we would play for hours." dr. yoo nods, more lines filling across the page.

"you never told me it was because of sam, you said it was just a hobby you had." dahyun comments, eyes on you, a little suprised at the conversation.

"i couldn't afford tennis equipment, too expensive." you explain.

dr. yoo continues to write as you and dahyun talk.

"but all those times you came to the country club, you offered to pay for the tab." dahyun leans into you a bit, you let your eyes wander over the name plaque on dr. yoo's desk.

"had to work overtime to pay it off." dahyun sinks back into her chair.

"and dahyun, you seem suprised, how does this make you feel?"

she looks back at her hands.

"i feel awful, i didn't know it costed that much for you." you return your gaze to her, watching the anguish in her eyes.

you wish you didn't feel ashamed about your financial situation, but every second spent with the kims was another jab at your own social status.

"i'm sorry dahyun, i kept it from you because i didn't want you to treat me differently." you shrink a bit, pulling the blazer a bit tighter. eyes falling to the floor naturally.

"and i'm sorry too, for never noticing." dahyun speaks it softly, you barely register the words.

you just nod, letting her hand hold yours. you can't bring yourself to look at her, too ashamed that you feel like you have to hide yourself from the woman you devoted your life to.

you begin to think about the early days of dating dahyun, days filled with anticipation of seeing her. constantly checking your account for how much you could expend on your paycheck, often stretching it for a simple date.

often on the weekends, the kim's visited the country club, the managers all fussing over them, pampering them with free items, as if the rich needed more free item, it used to make you angry.

but never dahyun, a sweet girl built upon integrity and honesty, always offering to pay. treating you with respect that most members of the country would never do, them often throwing towels or other trash at you to pick up. and with gritted teeth, you always do, remembering you needed this job.

"so you both met often at the country club?" dr. yoo cuts into your thinking, pulling you out of your memories. one's that are filled with happiness and anger, all in the same bunch. anger at the rich, but happiness at seeing that beautiful smile in person.

"yes, i worked there, and dahyun's family were well known members there." you explain, squeezing dahyun's hand in yours.

--

"2 o'clock, the kims." your head snaps up from the tennis magazine you're reading. and there you can see your supervisor and your supervisor's supervisor crowding around the kim's.

especially dahyun's mother, she was always more prone to fawning at the attention that the staff would shower them in.

"stand up!" you read from your supervisor's mouth, then he goes back to smiling fakely at the kim's probably hoping to pick at their pockets later when they're far too tipsy from all the champagne they bathe in.

"one day i'm going to strangle him." you side whisper to sam as you both bow at the family.

"not if i get to him first." sam side whispers back, smiling at the kim's. continue to bow at them as they walk across the lobby to the courts. squeaky new tennis shoes on the marble floor.

"hey! you work here!" that familiar voice., you've been trying to avoid her since she found you in the quads hanging out with sam. insistently trying to get you to let her pay you back for the bar.

"hi miss, glad to see you are doing better." sam walks away, citing a need for a bathroom break, but you know better with the way he playfully walks away.

"you still haven't said yes to letting me pay you back."

"because you don't have to pay me back, i just did a nice deed."

"and you should be rewarded." you just sink back into your stool. letting her lean over the desk. "well as kim dahyun, a prized patron here, i order you to follow me to the courts."

"the courts?"

"yes, i want to play." you stand up, heading into the back to get that signature tennis racket that she loves so much, specific engraving of her name etched on the neck of the racket. "grab another one!" she shouts from the desk. you grab a generic one, one that still costed way more than a month's paycheck. placing both racquets under your arm.

"here's what we're going to do, three games, if i win three, i get to pay you back for the bar, dinner on me.

"miss dahyun, that really isn't neccessary."

"it's my wish, and you can't deny a patron's wish here."

so you get beaten, pretty badly, 0 - 3. with you sweating and falling on your back, breathing heavy as dahyun grins from the other side of the court. letting out a loud laugh.

"dinner on me, i'll drag you there myself if i have to!" dahyun's still bouncing a tennis ball with her racket while you recover your breath, all you can do is lift an arm to give her a thumbs up.

--

"well i am afraid our time is up for today, please schedule a session again soon." dr. yoo offers a light smile, and walks you both out of the door. letting the heavy door close behind you. you look at dahyun, she hasn't looked at you since the confession.

you walk her to her car, "dahyun, i really am sorry for hiding it from you. i just didn't want money to affect us."

she stares at your blazer, it's buttoned, the same button she stitched on a couple weeks ago.

"but it does, doesn't it?"

"money?" you stop to think about it, as much as you tried to let it not be a determining factor in your relationship with dahyun.

it really does bleed into your relationship, leaving you paralyzed with fear that she'll leave you.

when you first met the kim's for an official dinner introduced as dahyun's girlfriend, you spent hours with sam trying to find a decent hand-me-down outfit for the dinner.

they were not impressed to say the very least, you had no proper dinner manners. confused your soup spoon with the dessert spoon. nearly knocking wine onto mr. kim.

"i think it did, for a very long time." you open the door for dahyun, letting her in, hand covering her head as she sits inside. you walk over to the driver's side, sitting inside. "i wanted to prove myself to your family, but mostly to you."

"you didn't need to prove anything to me." she says, hands gently grabbing yours. you feel your heart sink a bit.

"it sucked, seeing all your friends get gifted lavish trips and designer bags, while all i could afford to do was cook you homemade dinners." you explain, thinking back your university days, meeting dahyun's friend.

"but that's what they didn't have." she counters. "all the homemade gifts, it was just gifts with enough value to hold each other over."

you really did try your best, with limited budget and often asking for favors. you did your best to offer the best anniversary, valentine's, and birthday gifts.

all of which were intended to express your love for her, spending hours decorating homemade cakes, learning how to cook dinners for two. renting cars to go on road trip, all of which you happily experienced with dahyun.

"i wanted to be someone you could confidently show off to your friends." you think back to dahyun's birthday parties.

open bars, waiters and a massive table filled with gifts for her. all you could do was stare in wonder at the exuberant gifts, all the while you would shrink into yourself, trying to hide your embarrassment watching her open your gifts.

"do you? did you...resent me for it? having money i mean." dahyun drops the question you've been trying so hard to ignore. it's been plaguing your mind lately, how you think about how hard you tried, giving your all into your work for an ounce of validation from the kim's.

validation that you never seem to get.

"no, never. never you, you were the only person i didn't resent." you smile at her, genuinely, and she smiles back. you're glad you met her, even if the circumstances have made your life complicated.

"for the record, i was always confident in showing you off, because i knew who you were in your heart." you give her hand a squeeze as you drive home.

--

"another hour please, i'll pay triple." you say, staring at dr. yoo.

"i'm sorry mrs. kim, but i have another appointment." she stands up, trying to walk you out of the room, and when the door opens, there stands two woman on the other side.

"sorry for the delay, mrs. and mrs. park."

"no worries, dr. yoo, sana and i don't mind." the two woman nod at you, before sitting in the same chairs that you and dahyun were sitting just seconds ago.

"i'm sorry mrs. kim, but really, we don't have more time today, schedule another appointment soon." and dr. yoo closes her heavy wooden door.

you nod solemnly, "dr. yoo, i'm sorry for my behavior." you explain, a bit embarrassed now.

"no need, i understand. go check up on mrs. kim." she just nods and gives your shoulder a pat, closing the door again.

now you stand in the office lobby, with a crying dahyun in a chair.

you sink to your knees, eyes staring up at her. her hair like curtains to her face, concealing the quiet sniffles and sobs that she's letting out.

"dahyun, darling?"

the tears keep falling, staining her dress pants, you hold her shaky hands. as she speaks to you, holding her breath here and there to control her emotions. "you never told me."

"i know, i didn't want to burden you." rubbing at her hands to sooth the pain in her heart.

"but isn't that what we're here for, to shoulder each other's burdens." she cries louder, a couple in the office look over, but you don't care right now. you brush the tears away.

"we are, i just, i didn't know how to tell you."

"but he, he did all that to you, and you didn't tell me. he's my own father."

"i know, i am sorry."

"let's go home please, i want to talk at home." you nod, letting her walk to the car, following her footsteps closely.

--

dr. yoo welcomes you both into her office, getting familiar with the diptyque roses candle burning lowly on the desk.

"mrs. and mrs. kim, please have a seat." dahyun smiles as she sits down, a new pair of glasses hanging on her nose.

"new glasses?" you ask.

dr. yoo smiles at that, pushing up the glasses. "yes, new! just got them yesterday. you smile, dr. yoo has become a familiar and friendly face with you and dahyun. almost like she's a friend, almost.

"shall we get started?" she looks up at you two, that same notepad in hand and the montblanc.

you both nod in sync.

"so, how have you both been?"

"good." dahyun smiles a bit, letting her arm lay along the armchair, eyes brighter than usual. you smile at that.

"and you?"

"we're doing better, i'm happier." dr. yoo write it along a new line, a light smile on her face.

"that's lovely to hear, could you explain why?" dr. yoo picks her head up, watching you explain how life has been. there's been a shift at home, dahyun and you having more time to go on dates instead of tensed dinners filled with the sounds of silverware.

"we spend more time together, having lunch together, and dinner's have become fun to cook together." dr. yoo nods at that, more words written along the notepad, you share a warm gaze at dahyun. her eyes smiling in that way you love so much.

"i haven't asked this before, but how are the in-laws?"

you immediately frown, thinking about the pretentious man that was dahyun's father. a dicator in the family, ruling with an iron fist and often giving you trouble for growing up "different." as he so nicely put it.

you often remember dinner's with the kims filled with biting your tongue and just letting snide comments go by, even dahyun's mother had no say whenever he made uncomfortable jokes.

"i don't think dahyun's parents liked me much, especially her father." you sit back, continuing your thoughts about the demanding man.

"could you expand on that?"

"i didn't grow up rich, which was the biggest thing he disliked, he didn't think i was a good fit for dahyun." you explain, often remembering the side comments that her father would make when dahyun couldn't hear.

"and did you know about this?" dr. yoo turns to dahyun.

"yes. he was adamant about me breaking up with her but i never did." that you didn't know. you always assumed that it was just sly comments towards you, but never did mr. kim outward display his disdain towards you to dahyun.

you button up your jacket. dr. yoo continues to write across her page, leaving you both to sit and think about dahyun's words.

"understood, do you think dahyun's parents affected your relationship with dahyun?" you think about the question, how loaded it all is, you cannot even begin to explain how suffocating being around him was.

family dinners spent trying to escape into the bathroom so he would stop pestering you about your business ventures, or the capital that you had under your belt. you just shudder whenever it becomes holiday seasons.

fearful of the power that mr. kim had over you, one of his last wishes before he passed away was upending his entire gambling debt onto you.

it had become a hold over you, that he would only support the love that you had for dahyun if you were able to help pay off his debt. it became a huge burden on your shoulders, conjuring up a plan to reach financial freedom and success without hindering dahyun's future.

one that you wanted to support from day one, pushing her towards her goal of becoming a fashion designer, every day you suffered at the hands of her father, letting his debt take over your life, all to prove your devotion to dahyun.

and it hurt, to shoulder this weight alone, you always had shouldered the weight of the world on your shoulders to begin with.

"yes, unfortunately. dahyun's father, he. he told me that by taking on his gambling debt before he died, that he would allow me to marry dahyun." you explain, feeling your shoulders release tension.

dr. yoo continues to write fervently, eyes on the page, but a slight nod here and there. you can feel dahyun's gaze on your face, one in disbelief and utter shock. you turn to look at her, meeting her blank eyes.

more than anything, you beg for dahyun to understand, to really understand where you are coming from. a whole life you lived having to make opportunities for yourself, little to no support from others. fighting tooth and nail just to prove that you are worth it. that you are deserving of success and love.

"were you aware she took on your father's debt?" dr. yoo looks to dahyun, not missing a beat or letting any inflection slip in her tone.

"i wasn't. i wasn't even aware he had debt to begin with. what? sorry. um, what? no sorry, how much?" dahyun turns to you, trying to understand all the information that has just been dumped onto her.

"50 million." you sigh, just thinking about the figures. spending late nights calculating interest, and ways to even pay off the large sum of money.

"50? million?" dahyun stands up suddenly, you stand up too. watching her bewildered eyes scan across the room, trying to control her breathing, watching the clock, watching the blue in the reds in the carpet. holding herself as she walks out of the room.

you stare at the open door, the sight of dahyun turning and sinking into a chair.

dr. yoo stands up.

"mrs. kim, perhaps we should end this session here today. dahyun seems to be shutting down."

--

you and dahyun are standing on both ends of the table, her eyes filled with tears as she glares at you.

"you don't think i recognize money-obsessed? you think i can't recognize my father turning you into him? that's all i can see! our marriage is falling apart and you have become my father and i've become my own mother!"

"dahyun, please, all i wanted was to marry you, he forced his hand, i didn't know what else to do." you can feel yourself shaking a bit, your heart racing as you both stand on opposite ends of the room.

"you should have told me." dahyun arms are crossed as she stares you down.

"i didn't want to tarnish the image of your father. i just wanted to love you, and if that was the final condition to marry you, i would do it.." you throw your arms around, frustrated with all this confrontation.

"his gambling debt costed us years of our marriage, can't you see? all this time you wanted to prove yourself to him, he just used you to fix his own problems." dahyun uncrosses her arms, voice reverberating around the large dining room.

"i thought, i thought it would, make him okay with me." your hands drop to your face as you cry into your hands. dahyun stops and walks over to you, wrapping her arms around you, holding you tightly.

"oh darling, i wish you didn't care so much for him opinion." she softly rubs your hair, rubbing circles into the back of your chest as you cry freely. for the first time in a long time, you feel the exhaustion, sadness, yearning all come crashing through your body.

"i wish i didn't too." through long cries in between you finally vocalize it.

"but you love me? isn't that why you did all this?" she questions, a thought thats been plaguing her mind. do you still love her? do you still have the same passion for her you once declared openly to the world? do you still mean each vow you said to her as your hands held hers?

"i do, more than anything else in the world, i love you. my words can only show so much of it." you lift your head up, wiping her tears as she wipes yours.

a small smile on her lips, it's all so stupid.

"show me." she stops crying for a bit, eyes glimmering with hope. she stares at you, in that way you love so much.

"show you?" you try and stop the tears, getting a clearer view of her face.

"show me how much you love me." she says crashing her lips into yours, pulling you forward, your feet nearly stumbling as you wrap your arms around her waist. "show me."

she whispers against your lips, like a spell, you nod and grab a hold of her, rushing you both into your bedroom. you try and show her, that the passion you have for her has always been there, and always will.

--

"mrs and mrs. kim!" dr. yoo invites you in, a warm light shining into the room. you both get seated, while dahyun lets go of your hand.

"i know last time, we had a bit of an outburst, how has that been?" dr. yoo stares at you both, notepad in hand.

"we resolved it." dahyun says confidently.

"resolved it?" she stares at dahyun. dahyun just nods.

"and you? what do you think?"

"we resolved it." you nod back, smiling at dahyun.

"alright, that's lovely to hear. so to follow up, how is sexual intimacy going?" dr. yoo notes the light blush on your faces, unwilling to look at her or even each other.

"it's, it's um, it's good." dahyun starts and coughs a bit, shuffling her feet.

"and you?"

"it's good. very good." you reply, and dahyun slaps your arm, trying to get you to shut up. "oh i see." dr. yoo writes along a new line of her notepad. eyes reviewing her notes so far, comparing previous sessions with this one.

"is there more we should discuss?" dr. yoo comments, eyes lifting off the page again, a light smile upon her face.

"no, i don't think so." dahyun nods at your words, you smile at her. and she shares that same eye smile that you love so much right back.

"right then, well, these sessions are on a as-needed basis. so let me say this in the nicest way possible. i hope we never have to meet in this room again. although my door is always open." dr. yoo gives you both a wink as she ushers you both outside. you wrap your arm around dahyun's shoulder, a little smile on your face.

you hold onto dahyun just a little tighter.

--

a/n: genuinely had so much trouble with this fic, but it has come to fruition so i'm happy regardless! had to do research on marriage counseling and i hope it is obvious but this is fictional and i am not a licensed therapist so there will be inaccuracies. also shoutout to @cry4mina who listened to me word vomit my troubles with this fic <3 please listen to the song as well as look up the meaning of the song!! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!!

to @saiiidahyunee this fic is for you, hope you enjoyed <333

[dxstopiaa]

Justified Jealousy…

Synopsis: A series of provocative glances, or a unwanted momentary touch drives your lover crazy, envy lacing their face.

Characters: Jealous! Zhongli, Ayato and Al Haitham x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: None, perhaps just suggestive and description of jealousy. [Reader wears a sari/lehenga in alhaitham’s bc i said so, something that isnt nsfw lately? Also quite a lengthy fic, aaaaaa enjoy! but 200 followers aaa \(^ヮ^)/]

[Now Playing: Earned it]

Zhongli

• If there was one ability the former archon had learned over these millennia, it was controlling his emotions. Initiating battles, losing his dearest ones, witnessing his darkest fears accumulate- all of it. Ardour washed away with tides of erosion yet one remained with the sight he saw before him.

• You were seated next to the young harbinger, his acquaintance, smiling fondly at his words as he seemed to entertain you. Of course, Tartaglia did have that passionate charm within him, those fierce eyes and a grin worth remembering. Yet the sickening concoction of fury, envy and frustration built up in Zhongli’s stomach.

• He approached your table at Third-Round Knockout, seating himself beside you. You greeted him kindly, pushing a glass of wine towards him. He graciously accepted it and took a measly sip, not intending to get intoxicated as soon as Childe had.

• It was apparent how much of a lightweight he was, slurring his words ever so slightly. Likely the reason for his boldness. The consultant dismissed it, listening to the storyteller intently. That is, until the Snezhnayan diplomat began speaking.

• “So, Mr. Zhongli, who do you think has a better chance of attracting little miss here?” Childe brashly raised, returning his daze to you. You averted your own eyes from the man, humming. Appeared as if the Harbinger was oblivious to social cues also.

• The archon, still poised, rested his glass on the surface. Inside was a different matter however, for he wished to draw his polearm at that instant, so harsh and imprudent. Zhongli looked over again, seeing your subtly entertained face stung him.

• “Childe, I remind you, handle your alcohol more responsibly. As for that question, it’s none of your concern.” He half-hissed possessively, unusual for his nature. Pleasantly surprised to say the least, Tartaglia chuckled.

• “Hah! That’s more like it, I knew you weren’t as reserved as you present yourself!” The younger man snickered, watching Zhongli’s expression morph into something akin to displeasure. He simply crossed his arms flush against his chest, eyes squinted.

• You noticed the prior grasp the brunette had on the glassware, positive it would of shattered. Sure, the funeral parlour consultant was a gentleman, but what further feelings did he conceal in his heart?

• “Oh i see the issue, you’re jealous!” Childe gasped, dramatically clasping his hands over his ajar mouth. Irritating as always. Zhongli huffed, about to leave the table with that irked countenance of his. Until you stopped him, clasping tightly onto his gloved hand and pulling him down.

• With nothing else in mind, you kissed his cheek, which was reddening rapidly. You despised seeing such a look on his handsome face, resolving it with another drastic action. Despite its quick ending, the consultant’s mind was clouded. He excused himself, what a stuttering mess you’ve made of him.

• Giddily approaching his workplace, which he should of been at an hour ago, his boss exclaimed strings of words he couldn’t make out. Perhaps these emotions he’s avoided are his own drug.

• “Stop smiling, Mr. Zhongli! It’s beginning to scare me!”

Ayato

• As a prominent figure in the Tri-Commission, Ayato was not exempt from meetings and gatherings to discuss Inazuma’s development, and neither were you as his wife from another clan yourself.

• The heavy burden of the nation’s wellbeing weighted heavy upon your shoulders, the fear of directing your people in the wrong direction ever-present. A gentle grasp and comforting squeeze of your hand pulled you away from your thoughts.

• Your husband smiled warmly, using another hand to stroke your hair. He could almost sense your apprehension, if it wasn’t from the brief frown on your face. Right, you were currently waiting for the other nobles to join you in Komore Teahouse. The exorbitantly expensive teacups in front awaiting your other guests in the same manner.

• The tranquility was short lived as two other commissioners sat opposite you both, one face painted with a rather imperious expression. The other seemingly focused on your appearance, unpleasantly. Maybe you were being paranoid, you thought, greeting the men as respectfully as one could.

• Ayato was quick to discuss the subject, immediately presenting the paperwork, sipping his tea whilst he awaited a response. The Tenryou spokesman glanced at the terms, signing them off with the flutter of a quill pen.

• “Perfect, though i can’t help but take notice of you, My Lady, what importance do you have here other than to look alluring?” The man spoke up, rather confidently. Your breath hitched, unwillingly smiling, pushing the statement aside as not to anger him.

• Your husband eyed the man, clearing his throat to retrieve his attention once more. Ayato was patient by nature, but his fists clenched tighter at his ignorant words. Was your relationship not obvious enough? Or worse, did he choose to ignore it?

• The representative continued his conversation, although the constant flickering of his eyes towards you was quite daunting. Poor attempts to be subtle finally catching up to him, deciding to be outright confrontational.

• “I’d like for you to join my clan, after all you aren’t married from what i can see, i’ll provide you with everything and anything.” Again, the plain incomprehension. The Tenryou Head droned on, almost as if he was under the influence of alcohol.

• No matter how you stammered that you weren’t interested, he persisted. Ayato grew angrier by the second, struggling to keep his composure. He latched onto your hand, bringing it up to the table and infront of the commissioner, playing with the golden ring on your finger.

• His indigo irises never left your own, contemplating whether he had to kiss you infront of the ignorant clan member to show his love for you. The stare he gave you wasn’t cold; more so irritated and envious. The thought of you with anyone other than him was ill-fitting, the way his name rolled off your tongue was a melody only he should hear.

• “May i remind you that this is a professional matter? I assure you my wife isn’t interested in the slightest.” Ayato partially threatened, malice dripping from every word, taking your hand in his and kissing it delicately. Reputation won’t be an issue infront of such a vile being.

• The stammering man’s face was red with sheer embarrassment, claiming how he was very sorry and how it wasn’t his fault. The Kamisato heir hoisted you up from your seat, disregarding the meaningless protests as you both left the room, entering another desolate one.

• “Do i have to physically prove you’re mine? How about carrying my bloodline further, sweetheart?” He secured you against the wall, smoothing his thumb over your lips.

Al Haitham

• It was well known how gorgeous the sunsets were in Sumeru, countless couples sitting upon stone benches to cherish it, or friends giggling and joking with eachother, basking in it’s glow.

• Al Haitham didn’t know where he’d place your relationship with him on that scale. Would you both be in the developing rosé hues, friendly with a sense of intimacy? Or would you be in the deep saffrons, an established unbreakable infatuation? Or perhaps a blend of the two.

• Deciphering your perception of him was much more challenging than he expected, a price which came along with bonds. Moreover, he needed to recognise his own feelings first, putting that matter beside once your voice could be heard behind him.

• You tapped his shoulder, smiling warmly at him, intending not to startle him from the thoughts, or books even, he often indulged in. Al Haitham knew your charismatic character differed from his reclusive approach, but that’s what drew you together, he supposed.

• Usually, you’d be asking him how his day went, or if anything happened whilst you were gone, but you were oddly quiet. He glimpsed at you momentarily, observing your timid demeanour as you followed beside him. You’d open up eventually.

• “I don’t understand why Nilou made me wear this, it makes it seem like we’re a couple…” The Scribe looked at you again, except for much longer than before. Right, the turquoise lehenga and veil draped across your shoulder fitted quite well with his own colour scheme. A little too obviously than he had planned it to.

• “How unfortunate.” Al Haitham sarcastically stated, not missing the way you side-eyed him, almost hearing his smirk through his words. “..Anyway, i need to pick some items up from my home, care to accompany me?”

• You were piqued by his offer, although you had met him a few times outside his house, you never had the opportunity to see inside, causing you to nod your head enthusiastically. You wondered if he was as organised as he claimed he was, or if his house was a mess in disguise.

• Simultaneous footsteps pattered against the stone pavement, coming to a halt a little further from the heart of the city. The residence was actually quite nice from the outside, simplistic yet larger than most.

• Al Haitham reached into his pocket, pulling a golden key from it and began unlocking the door, pushing it open and gesturing you inside with a brief nod. You could hear a series of light tapping sounds before it stopped, more steps upon wooden floors approaching.

• “You’re back already? Ugh, I didn’t even get to-” The unfamiliar man had ceased to speak, simply looking back and forth at you and the Scribe. His crimson eyes squinted slightly, and then widened in some sort of realisation.

• “Don’t tell me, you’ve actually got a girlfriend? I almost feel sorry for her already.” He continued, voice contorted into a discredited tone. Girlfriend? You two weren’t dating!

• “Yes Kaveh, and what?” You snapped your head towards Al Haitham at his words, scrunching your brows. To your surprise, he was nodding his head, still seeming unbothered as ever. Now he’s lying too?

• “Haitham, We’re-” His hand tightening further around your waist told you enough, an inaudible message saying to be quiet. Kaveh sighed, rolling his eyes. Honestly a reaction you would give to the insufferable man beside you too.

• The Scribe merely chuckled, sitting you down on a cushioned couch, right beside him. The blonde-haired man sat opposite, apparently still in disbelief as he stared quite unnervingly at you, a small grin present.

• “She’s too pretty for you, i’m sure she’d prefer if she was dating me instead.” Kaveh spontaneously admitted, laughing as heat crept up your face. Though this would be an opportunity too amusing to pass on, now that you thought of it.

• “Maybe.” You replied, enjoying the slight blaze of envy in Al Haitham’s irises. If he was going to tease you, he should expect the same back. It was your turn to giggle, resting your head on your ‘boyfriend’s’ shoulder.

• Your sudden playfulness surprised him, whilst he knew this was only a comical tease of yours, he wanted nothing more but to make you and that roommate of his realise just how far he’d go for your love.

• Kaveh focused his attention on him instead now, he knew that the Scribe was just putting on that stoic act to refrain from shouting infront of you. Why not add salt to the injury?

• “How did a grumpy ogre like you catch the heart of a princess such as her?” The architect cackled, winking at you. Another suppressed laugh from you, covering your mouth with your palm, intending not to hurt Al Haitham too much.

• What you didn’t expect was for him to tilt your chin to the side, cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips onto yours. His soft lips parted slightly, melting whatever dignity you had left and drowning out the gasp you emitted. Passionate enough for your heart to accept it as an unspoken confession, begging for more. Al Haitham pulled away, pressing a last, delicately light kiss onto your forehead.

• “That’s how.” He simply stated, almost ignoring the reality of what he had done, wordlessly wrapping you around his finger just as you did, excusing himself from where he was sat, draping his cape over your shoulders before he headed to his room, “..Goodnight, love.”

• Between you and his roommate, you couldn’t decide which of you were more shocked. Kaveh almost resembled a gaping fish, jaw dropped, looking as if he wasn’t far from losing it. Appears as if the Scribe’s plan had worked.

[therealgloomygirl]

yandere PJO! athena x demigod! darling 🗡🦉 - general hcs

!!WARNINGS!!: yandere, obsessive and stalkerish behavior, manipulation, really harsh and cruel punishments, Athena loves watching you suffer, clinginess, possessiveness, isolation, deceiving, jealousy, threats, mentions of violence, she's slightly toxic but her immortal heart is in the right place, I lied she's really toxic please don't ever get in a relationship with someone like her

pairing/s: yandere pjo!athena x demigod!darling

A/N: there wasn't enough athena content so I decided to do it myself :) also, this is my first fic and English is not my first language so I apologise for any spelling errors and such!

• you were a demigod who had somehow survived and become an adult, which now meant you had to find something to do. After the roman camp, camp Jupiter and your own camp; camp half-blood had made peace, the older campers from your camp had started going to the college in camp Jupiter. You were bored and decided that it wouldn't hurt to go to college and find something to do after the war against Gaia

• so you started studying harder in the mortal school you went to, preparing to apply to the college. it was a little hard to concentrate, with all the monsters attracted to your scent who had decided that you would make quite the tasty demigod snack and all the jobless mortals who somehow didn't find the time to grow up and instead decided to make your life as hard as possible

• you decided to drop out and study on your own instead, knowing that there was an option to take an entrance exam instead, something you found out from Chiron during an orientation Mr. D reluctantly conducted after mixing several ounces of wine into his diet coke

• to make your task easier, you went to the smartest people you knew; the athena campers, to help you study and of course they were more than happy to. And so, the daily visits to their cabin began

• and that, is when you caught the eye of the very goddess of wisdom and war who the cabin was dedicated to; Athena herself

• at first, she didn't think much of you, just another demigod in her cabin, probably to consult with one of her children, quite a common occurrence, considering how smart her children were, a trait they got from their mother

• but as you started to visit her cabin more and more frequently, she couldn't help but pay attention to you. to her surprise, you wouldn't leave her mind. you always occupied her thoughts and she found herself unable to concentrate

• at first she dismissed it, she always had mortals and demigods alike peak her interest but they faded eventually

• however, no matter how hard she tried, she found herself watching you for hours, learning everything about you and observing your smallest habits

• once she learned about your ambition to go to college and the reason why you visited her cabin, she used her powers to encourage you to focus, allowing your brain to learn easier and faster

• when she couldn't take the unhealthy way you invaded her thoughts anymore, she decided to act on it. she visited her demigod children in their dreams and told them to act as if she was a regular demigod when she showed up at camp. her children, confused but unable to derive their mother's true intentions and wanting to please her, agreed

• the next day, a well dressed yet stand offish girl, about your age, with stunningly intelligent gray eyes approached you outside your cabin and asked you to accompany her and show her around. you were a little stunned since you weren't popular or well known enough in camp to be actively sought out but agreed and started showing the mysterious girl around

• once you finished, she was claimed by athena and you lead her to Cabin 6. you found it odd how everyone in the cabin seemed to stress about her and flinch as if she was liable to burst into flames at any moment but you dismissed it.

• after all, even you felt the very clear aura radiating about the strange girl, the way she talked as if she was much much older and mature than she let on and the pure air of intelligence that seemed to hang about her, the way her piercing gray eyes seemed to calculate every move you made and how her thoughts seemed universes ahead, beyond human comprehension

• she made you lightly uneasy but you soon found out she was the only one who truly understood how your brain worked. with her, your studies went better than you could have ever imagined and you finished your work effortlessly with her. the athena campers however, still seemed jumpy around her, particularly Annabeth, the head counsellor and one of the seven to save the world against Gaia

• you dismissed it again, choosing to turn a blind eye to the girl who had caught your heart. it was almost impossible not to fall for her, the way she made you laugh just with her brutally honest yet knowledgeable words, the way her beautiful gray eyes picked up on every thought that passed in your head and the way she noticed and admired all your little mannerisms

• this girl was, of course, Athena in disguise, choosing to make you fall in love as an ordinary demigod as she knew that claiming you as hers would be a much easier task if your heart was already hers

• once she was positive that she had you wrapped around her finger, she immediately revealed her true form and confessed boldly to you and of course you accepted, mostly out of fear of what would happen to you if you rejected a goddess, not to mention one of the most powerful ones

• Athena, being the goddess of wisdom, is the smartest of the yandere gods. Once she has you, she won't make you immortal like other gods would, instead, she binds your life force to hers, which allows you to function as an immortal but feel pain like a mortal

• she loves using this against you for punishment and her most common punishments are letting you teeter on the brink of death while you suffer in pain and misery

• she's a paranoid goddess and keeps you far far away from the other Olympians. She knows that the minor gods are too terrified to try to cross her or even look in your direction so she doesn't worry about them. She's mostly worried that someone (*cough cough* aphrodite *cough cough*) will take your heart and the casualties of the wars that would follow would have a devasting effect on your mental health

• she only trusts Hestia and occasionally, Artemis with you

• Hestia because she would probably love and take care of you like a daughter in her hearth and Artemis because she would be too busy to pay enough attention to you for you to fall for her, only giving her attention to make sure you were alive and in one piece

• she will also sometimes drop you off at her cabin in camp half-blood, partially so you can reunite with your friends and visit the camp which had been your home for so long and partially so that her children can keep an eye on you

• she warns her children not to let you out of their sight and as a result, you are constantly tailed by atleast 2 of the cabin 6 campers, eager to please their difficult mother and earn her favor

• anyone who hurts you or dares to fall for you is in for a nasty fate

• Athena may not have as much power as Zeus or as much time to craft her punishments like Hera but being the goddess of wisdom and war comes with the additional perks of being able to think up one of the most horrible punishments ever known in a matter of rage filled seconds so most of the campers tend to stay out of your way, which is both depressing and a relief

• she wants you to be the perfect partner for her, someone gullible and dependant so she'll break you with no remorse or hesitation, knowing that you'll imerge from the trauma as her perfect lover

• if your godly parent dares to try to help you escape, she will find out and she will make sure you regret ever getting the ridiculous thought of leaving her

• if your godly parent is a minor god, they wouldn't dare help you, even if they feel pity for you or anger at Athena. She is not a force to be reckoned with and with love influencing her moves, she will make sure they wish they never even tried

• if your godly parent is one of the olympians, they would probably be more defiant and against your relationship but they would still be too scared to try to act too much on it. Athena is a ruthless goddess and though the most rational, for you, she would willingly start a war without caring for the casualties. They may try to help you escape but Athena is always several thoughts ahead. No matter which scenario, which plan, she's already thought about it and prepared for it accordingly, even preparing the horrifying punishment she will inflict upon you for going along with it

• she loves to use the powers you got from your godly parents against you, just to show you how helpless you are even in your own parent's domain

• her child of Hephaestus s/o was sent a bunch of material and celestial bronze by their father so that they can build something to help them escape? she will personally use those very materials to craft the most terrifying monster she can think of at that moment and let you fight it till you almost die from exhaustion, your only weapon a sword made of celestial bronze while she watches with cruel amusement as you scurry about like a rat in a maze

• oh you're a child of Poseidon who was visited by Poseidon in their dreams and advised on how to best use their powers to escape into their father's territory and claim his protection? she will drag you by your hair to the Underworld and throw you into river Styx and let you dissolve and drown in as you pointlessly fight for breath in what should be your area of expertise, your brain in too much pain and too panicked to think straight, until she's thinks you've learnt your lesson

• Athena has already memorized all your habits and routines. she knows everything about you and will instantly notice if even the slightest thing changes. Thats when she goes on panic mode and isolates you completely, not letting you see anyone but herself and spending time with you until she's convinced you've gotten all other thoughts but her out of your mind

• in short, if you want life to be as easy as you can possibly have it when your fate is entangled with an immortal, you should give in to her completely and as soon as possible which would make life a lot less painful for both you and her

• on a softer note, Athena is very proud of you and shows you off to everyone she possibly can once she decides you're too deeply in love with her to ever fall for anyone else

• she's your number 1 supporter and loves watching you work on your hobbies, praising everything and giving as much helpful criticism as she can

• she'd be delighted if one of your hobbies was also one of hers, such as reading or weaving and loves quietly reading to you in her calm, deep yet soothing voice while you play with her hair or weaving you the most gorgeous tapestries of you to make you feel as confident about your self as she can

• she knows exactly what to do to cheer you up and knows enough about you to know what you need through all your emotions which means that she's always comforting to talk to when you're going through difficulties. she's an amazing listener and will quietly listen to your problems and advise you on the best ways to deal with them

• she can easily make you laugh or cry with her words, her knowledge of you letting her know what evokes emotions in you and what doesn't which allows her to manipulate your emotions with ease, letting her twist you into whatever she wants

• Athena has never been a touchy-feely kind of goddess, nor has she ever wanted it. that is, until she met you, of course.

• she is surprisingly clingy and attached to you and definitely has separation anxiety. she loves having you touch her, the contact alone is enough to make her shudder in happiness and relief

• she feels like your affection is a drug she's addicted to and as a result, she's very needy, demanding that you go everywhere with her and will always have her hand around some part of you, making sure everyone knows who's you are while satisfying her need for your touch

• she may decide to immortalize your closest friends and family if you really desperately ask beg for her to and if you behave well for her

• however, from then on, her neediness increases tenfold. she believes that since she's done you such a huge favor by allowing you to have your loved ones coexist and keep you company for eternity, you should always be ready to drop everything and come running to her when she feels like she wants or needs it

• doesn't really care about the possibility of one of your friends falling for you, she knows both of you will be too scared to ever act on it and if it goes too far, she always has the cruelest punishments prepared for both of you, a message that comes across plain and simple: don't take what's hers.

• she could quietly stare at you and study you for HOURS because no matter what you're doing, she finds you to be the most gorgeous and fascinating person on the earth, a creature so perfect, they managed to catch the attention of the goddess who always believed that she was completely immune to the magic of love, someone who relied on rational thought rather than feelings

• every time she looks at aphrodite, all she sees is you <3

• well you if you were a self absorbed, cunning, well dressed, 7 foot tall goddess

• the point is, she loves you, she has never and will never love anyone like she loves you and you will be her pride and joy, always by her side, till the end of time, living with her and loving her till existence itself crumbles to dust.

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A/N: heyyy, so this turned out longer than I thought it would but the amount of ideas I kept getting made it kinda impossible not to add but yea :) I hope you enjoyed!