#it is now big my beloved spring

[pharawee]

The pilot trailer for Monster Next Door starring Big Thanakorn and Park Anantadej will release on 27 February and naturally I had to change my icon for the occasion.

[alithographica]

As promised, welcome to

Fun biology in TOTK’s designs

I'll keep this post updated as I go through the game. I'm going to skip the more general identifiable things like apples (they're based on apples!) because there are tons of more unusual species to talk about.

Overall, the really interesting thing I've noticed is that many of the more unique Earth-based lifeforms in TOTK are super ancient, like predating dinosaurs ancient, which is a really cool tie-in to the overall time-hopping plotline of TOTK. Specifically, they're found in the new areas (caves, depths) while the surface remains a bit more normal.

(There will be no plot spoilers in this post, and also I've barely gotten into the plot because I'm spending all my time wandering, so shhh no spoilers in the tags for like a month please.)

Most recent additions: More lilies, irises, wild ginger, spiny bones, pigeon extravaganza, plus added some more real photo comparisons to old stuff.

PLANTS

Bryophytes my beloved. Bryophytes are among the earliest land plants, waaaay predating flowers and even seeds. In our world, they’re small by necessity—they lack vascular systems to help move water around like other plants, so they have to stay small and moist (hence their frequency in caves in TOTK—though they do need some light in real life.)

In TOTK they’re quite large and I think that’s very sexy and art directors should give us big bryophytes more often

Anyway, there are three types of bryophytes: mosses, liverworts, and hornworts. First image pair is a moss, second is a liverwort. Those red-brown and palm-tree-like structures, respectively, are their reproductive structures.

Real liverwort photo © Graham Calow, NatureSpotUK

Not yet spotted: Hornworts! Did they forget the third bryophyte sister :(

I think these next guys are probably lycopods (specifically club moss, which is not a true bryophyte moss, thanks science.) Very old, but vascular, so they're a bit more evolutionarily recent than bryophytes.

Real photo © Gloria Hanley Schoenholtz, virginiawildflowers

All the enormous curly-topped trees in the depths: Ferns! They curl like that until they unfurl. Another very old plant, though younger than bryophytes and lycopods.

Real photo via The Cosmonaut, Wikipedia

Brightblooms and some of the other giant plants in the depths: Possibly based on a cycad? Again, a very ancient plant lineage. At this point, evolutionarily, they've developed seeds—that giant cone in the center is called a strobilus, and that's the seed structure.

These next few plants are angiosperms, meaning they produce flowers. Angiosperms are a more recent evolutionary lineage—still many millions of years old, but it took a while to develop flowers as a reproductive tactic.

Sundelions (left) are a fun recolor of a lily. There are also some scenery lilies (right) in various places—there are yellow ones that spring up when you turn on a lightroot (which gives them literal and thematic connection to the surface) and several other varieties, including tiger lilies, throughout Hyrule. Fun note, the sundelions appear to only have 5 stamen, while other lilies in the game (correctly) have 6. Seems to be an intentional decision to make it a more distinct fantasy species.

These next ones are Peruvian lilies/Alstroemeria, just used as a scenery plant but a very fun inclusion. Fun fact, not true lilies, so they're not deadly to cats like true lilies are.

Real photo © Dick Culbert, Wikipedia

Plum trees: These are also called out as plum trees in game! There's a journal in Kakariko that refers to the plum orchards.

Okay I'm a little proud of figuring this one out. Bomb flowers blend a few botanical references. Superficially, the fruit resembles a type of seed pod called a capsule—specifically it's very similar to a poppy capsule. The little red thing in the center is a nice addition to resemble both a flower stigma (reproductive part that leads to the ovary) and a bomb fuse. Now, poppy capsules disperse their seeds via wind, but there are other plants who do explode their seeds outwards as a dispersal tactic! This is called explosive dehiscence.

There is one tree in particular called the sandbox tree, AKA monkey-no-climb or dynamite tree (yes, really.) Their capsules look more like little pumpkins, but are known for violently exploding when ripe—they can launch seeds at 150 miles per hour (250 km/h) and spread them roughly 200 feet (60 m) away. The photo comparison is a poppy capsule but you should def go look up dynamite tree videos.

Real photo © PommeGrenade, pixabay

Fire fruits (and the other elemental fruits) grow on the same generic plant that looks kind of like it has grape leaves. Fire fruits resemble a specific botanical thing too though—the black netting is a papery calyx (part of the flower) seen in a nightshade genus, Physalis (golden berries, tomatillos, etc.)

Real photo © Helene Rogers, Alamy

I think this stuff is an Asarum, AKA wild ginger. I was actually puzzling over it until I walked past some today and went HEY

Not sure of the exact species but they're very green and heart-shaped and love being dense and low to the ground.

Real photo via David Stang, Wikipedia

Irises: Love irises, one of my favorite flowers and words, very happy to see them in game.

MISCELLANEA

Cup lichen! Lichen is not a plant, but a symbiotic structure of an algae + a fungi. Cup lichen is just a type of lichen formation that has a kind of vertical cup-like structure.

Real photo via Bernard Spragg

Geology crossover! Go look carefully at some of the whiter walls in the depths—they look like they have fossils of coral and other undersea hard-structured animals in them.

ANIMALS

Sticky lizards: Based on Diplocaulus, a very early (now extinct) amphibian! Their skulls are wacky. We're not sure whether the long sides stood out separately or were smoothly connected to the body by skin flaps, but the separate arrow-like shape is the most popular rendition.

Deep firefly: Might be a stretch because it could just be a multi-winged fantasy critter, but I think the "wings" and antennae are very reminiscent of Anomalocaris, an ancient aquatic arthropod.

Update: Other folks in the notes/tags have pointed out that they're probably based on a cryptid that's especially popular in Japan: skyfish AKA rods! They show up in photos and people think they're an alien lifeform. In reality, they're an optical blur created when a lower quality video captures intermittent flaps of an insect's wings, leaving sort of a many-winged smear in the photo. Thanks to all who left info!

Little frox: Another stretch because it totally could just be a Hinox-like frog, but every time I see the little ones I can't help but think of like...Ichthyostega, Mastodonsaurus, Eryops, and other early amphibians. They were pretty hefty—little frox size or bigger—and had with little waddling legs. This is less "I think it's definitely this" and more "it makes me happy when I picture frox as primitive amphibians."

I haven't detailed many of the scenery animals around Hyrule because most are identifiable with the camera function—it'll tell you that a certain animal is a heron or porgy, for example, and those groups are real, even though the exact species is made up. But I think the pigeons are fun because they're all crested pigeons. Pink-necked green pigeons may have also been the inspiration for the color palettes on the wood and rainbow pigeons.

Both pigeon photos via JJ Harrison, Wikipedia

Spiny bones: Not a specific critter, but those spiny bones that you can find lying around Eldin Canyon are vertebrae—possibly from the same thing that left those big rib cages around? The top spike is the spinous process where muscles attach, the littler spikes on the side are the transverse and articular processes. The dark O in the center is the spinal cord.

Also I made a friend who finally recognizes my purpose in Hyrule.

That's all I've got for now! Will add more as I keep playing.

[mianexil]

◇ Things that make his heart melt ◇

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

⭕️ Warning: Spoilers ⭕️

💫 [ It wasn't in my plans before, but I really want to comfort these boys ]

💫 [ Cuties, I see your requests and don't forget about them. I'm going through a little stressful period right now, so it may take a little longer than I wanted, but I'm already working on it ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Suo, Sakura, Umemiya

Suo

Sincere care for him

Everyone knows that Suo is strong in every sense. He is also smart, restrained, independent and confident.

It is not uncommon for people to admit such thoughts in his direction as 《 He is strong/smart/hardy, he will cope 》, waving away unnecessary worries.

But not you. You've never neglected it and it came from the heart. You knew that Suo was far from weak and admitted it, but it never affected the level of your concern for him. Yes, he is, but this does not mean that you can take less care of him, referring to the fact that he can do it himself.

Strong people can take care of the difficulties outside and also take care of themselves. But if they can, it doesn't mean that it's easy for them.

You always paid attention to his comfort in one situation or another, did some small and inconspicuous things that actually made a big difference.

Starting from the way you imperceptibly put a cooling compress in his furin jacket pocket before patrolling on a hot day or a a small pocket warmer in winter, and ending with silent hugs at the right moment to maintain peace in his soul.

It wasn't just a superficial concern, it was about his feelings.

At first, he somehow automatically shielded himself from it, it was his defense mechanism. He didn't want to admit that he needed it in any way, he didn't want you to think that he had at least some weaknesses to know the truth.

However, time and your perseverance have done their job. Over time, Suo began to accept your truly deep concern, letting it into his heart and passing through it.

And believe me, it made his heart blossom.

Sakura

Listening and hearing

Sakura, as a person who has spent his whole life alone, is not used to conducting dialogues and generally having any long-term relationships with people.

That's why, when he first caught himself telling you about some hobby of his with a desire, and at that time you were really listening attentively to him, he felt this terribly strong and strange feeling in his chest.

Of course, at the same moment he fell into a stupor, and then he got angry because he was confused. You still don't understand why he abruptly stopped talking, flushed red in annoyance, and then abruptly said goodbye and ran away.

Poor boy, for him, these feelings seem especially strong. Because it was the first time for him.

You knew it was very difficult for Sakura to open up to people. That's why, when he started sharing his thoughts with you or telling you something, you immediately put all the worries in your head aside and focused on Sakura.

You wanted him to feel heard so that he would understand that you want to hear and listen to him

And it was at such moments that the young man's heart seemed to melt like ice under the warm rays of the spring sun.

God, you really make this boy happy.

Umemiya

Special intimate moments between you

When you are alone, he's lying on your lap, and you're stroking his head.

It is this moment that permeates Hajime's heart and soul with sparkling threads that touch his most sensitive and vulnerable points.

At this moment, he feels as if he is transported back to childhood, when he was still a carefree, happy, beloved little boy, surrounded by family love and a sense of childish lightness.

Once he had lost this happiness, these incredible sensations, but now he had found them again. In a different form, but the same happiness.

He is lying on your lap, and your fingers are tangled in his white hair while you stroke him and at this moment Umemiya feels this warmth again, he is sincerely loved again, he is again childishly carefree and happy, he is home again.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[goodlucktai]

What if I said 10 & 20 as portal duo thanks so much

dialogue prompts

10. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”

+ 20. “Get away! You’re hurting them!”

for my beloved meeks

x

They weren’t supposed to be here. It’s stupid, but it’s the first thing that springs to Mikey’s mind. 

Leo had only recently graduated with honors from those initial grueling physical therapy sessions that usually ended in tears (not always Leo’s) to daily exercises that got easier and easier until he was breezing through them the way he used to breeze through everything. 

If he went farther than two steps away from his arm crutches Donnie appeared out of thin air looking ready to breathe fire at him, and Raph was in the habit now of holding Leo out at arm’s length immediately after every hug in the manner of scruffing an unruly kitten to double-check he was wearing his leg brace and compression sleeve, and Mikey had learned the hard way what everyone meant when they said medics make the absolute worst patients. 

But for the most part Leo was doing really good! He was hitting all his marks and only driving everyone a tiny bit insane—well within the allotted Leo amount! 

So when he had smiled that crooked, conspiring smile at Mikey the minute the coast was clear and said, “There’s no better strengthening exercise then sneaking out with my favorite little brother for a past-due victory smoothie,” what was Mikey supposed to tell him? No??

It did occur to him, a tiny little guilty whisper. Leo was healing. He’d been so badly hurt. Even Splinter, who spoiled Leonardo rotten, hadn’t given into the slider’s constant pleas to rush the recovery process along. They were going by the book. Literally, since Donatello had stepped up as team medic in the interim. Don and Raph and April and even Casey were all very good at not bending an inch no matter how many tragic looks got sent their way. Mikey wasn’t very good at that at all. 

And anyway, joy had drowned out that whisper with a shout. He lit up with it, that newly-discovered supernova inside him curling up like a happy cat in a patch of sunshine. There’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how old he gets, or how powerful his mystic arts become—he’ll always be Michelangelo, and Michelangelo will follow Leonardo absolutely anywhere. 

So he said, “I’ll get my hoodie!” and darted out the door with zero ninja stealth, clipping his shoulder on the frame and almost crashing into the table in the hall. Leo laughed behind him, and the unrestrained sound made Mikey feel like he could float. Maybe he actually did for a second or two. 

He’ll never forget those horrible minutes after the portal closed, after Leo’s comms went dead, when he had wondered if he would ever hear his brother’s voice again. When he wondered what, exactly, his last words to Leo had been—they almost certainly weren’t I love you or please don’t leave so they didn’t count. 

To make up for it, he wanted to tell Leo everything every chance he got. He wanted to make him laugh all the time. He wanted to crowd into the little twin-size infirmary bed to watch movies or do art projects that got glitter everywhere. He wanted to sneak out for smoothies even though it would get them in big trouble, because that was literally why he helped save the world in the first place. 

And now he’s standing in a dim sidestreet, an orange streetlight buzzing dully above him, two smoothies melting in his hands. It’s their usual shortcut home, through a bunch of foreclosed apartment buildings and a dead end road. Leonardo is in front of him, shoulders stiff, ninpo humming weakly beneath his skin like a tired little beetle that shouldn’t be up from hibernation just yet. 

Across the road are half a dozen humans in what looks like riot gear labeled TCRI and a man in a black suit. The man somehow looks more dangerous than the people in police armor. 

“Leo,” Mikey says in a small voice. His brother doesn’t answer, but he does shift his weight to put Mikey more firmly behind him, which is answer enough. 

And Mikey thinks, We weren’t supposed to be here. No one knows where we are. 

The man in the suit starts talking into the bulky earpiece he’s wearing, but Mikey can’t make out what he’s saying over the buzzing of the streetlamp and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. All he hears is Leonardo murmur, “Mikey, go.”

“No,” Mikey’s mouth says automatically. It doesn’t even need any input from his brain to say it. Because no. 

“Mike,” Leo says, in his best leader voice. But his tone is urgent in a way that borders on being scared so closely it must mean he’s actually terrified, or he would never have let Mikey hear even a hint of it. “I’d go with you if I could. I’m sorry I can’t.” 

His hands tighten on his crutches. He can’t run. He’s still healing. He should be at home, doing his exercises with those little pink dumbbells in the warmth and safety of the lair, complaining the whole time in between tossing out ideas for dinner. 

Mikey should have said no to sneaking out the way Donnie and Raphie would have instantly said no. He should be better at taking care of Leo the way he needs to be taken care of, the way everyone else does so easily. 

The armored people start to shift to the side, moving around Mikey and Leo in a wide formation, hands on the guns holstered at their waists. Containing them. The man in the suit is still talking, face inscrutable behind the tinted glasses he’s wearing, but his face hasn’t twitched away from their direction even once. 

“Hey,” Leo says, bringing Mikey’s attention back. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

He’s smiling over his shoulder like it’s any other back-alley brawl with the mutant of the week or a handful of those Foot soldiers who never know when to quit, and not a horrible high-stakes situation in which Mikey stands to lose one of the most important things in the entire world if he makes the wrong move. 

“Just get home and get the guys, okay? Then come right back for me. You can outrun these goons without breaking a sweat. You can do anything.”

Mikey drops the smoothies and the cold wet soaks through one of his sneakers instantly but he needs his hands free so he can clutch the back of Leo’s stupid hoodie. He needs to hold on tight and make sure whoever tries to take his brother away knows exactly what kind of knock-down drag-out fight they’re in for. 

“I don’t care,” Mikey says, too loud in the stillness. “I’m not leaving you.”

He wishes he were a snapper like Raphie. If he was big and strong and had a shell that was as good as bulletproof armor, he’d scoop Leonardo up and shield him from the guns and run them both away. 

If he was a genius like Donnie, he’d have one or a dozen gadgets on his person that would have saved them. 

But he’s just Mikey, who isn’t big and strong, who isn’t a genius, who isn’t one of the people Leonardo is willing to step down and be weak in front of and depend on. Just Mikey, who Leo saved all his best jokes for during painful rehab, like it mattered to him that Mikey didn’t see him struggle. Just Mikey, who Leo always lifts both arms for the second he sees him coming and squishes into the world’s best hug, even if he’s pissed off at everybody else. Just Mikey, who Leo wants to get better for, be the best for, be one of the constant things on this planet Mikey never needs to doubt, like gravity and sunrise and overpriced street food. 

Because there’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how mature he gets, or how accomplished a ninja master he becomes—he’ll always be Leonardo, and Leonardo would do anything to make sure Michelangelo keeps smiling. 

Leo is also very stupid, because he doesn’t seem to understand that Mikey will never smile again if his big brother goes away. 

When the TCRI agents explode forward at some signal Mikey missed, and grab the brothers and drag them apart, Leo stumbles and falls when his crutches are wrenched away. He’d probably be making a smart-ass comment if his jaw wasn’t clenched, the sudden fall probably radiating pain all the way up his spine, distress making his gold eyes burn neon yellow. 

Like a flip was switched, all the panic inside of Mikey evaporates into a red-tinged mist. 

The supernova inside him sleeps most of the time, because he’s not big enough to contain its multitudes yet, and it doesn’t want to cause pain. It only wants to shine light in dark places, it only wants to help. But it wakes up with a fury and fills every inch of him to the brim and the overflow spills right out of him, lifts him right off the ground, makes his voice a resounding thunderclap when he yells, “GET AWAY! You’re hurting him!” 

Staggering back and shouting in alarm, the agents begin firing, because humans in a panic are trigger-happy creatures, even well-trained ones like these guys must be. Every round fired disintegrates the second it meets the glow pouring out of Mikey, disappearing before it can do harm. 

“Holy shit,” Leo says, eyes wide. It’s the way Mikey imagines he probably looked at Leo, when everyone else feared Raphael was a lost cause but Leo put his hand on Mikey’s shoulder and told him, I’m not giving up on him. I’m not leaving him behind. A sailor lost in a storm and their first glimpse of the lighthouse in the dark, close enough to save them.

“Hold your fire!” the man in the black suit barks suddenly, his voice viciously angry. “I did not clear any of you to fire!” 

Mikey doesn’t care who the scary Men In Black guy is, or what reason he has for tracking Mikey and his brother down, or why he’s calling the dogs off now. He cares about helping Leo get back on his feet, scooping the crutches up off the ground and getting Leo’s arms in them, and staring right into Agent Sunglasses’s stupid face while the supernova burns and burns and burns inside him. 

Try it, he doesn’t say. Just try it. If the Krang couldn’t take my brother from me, what hope do you think you have?

He feels Leo’s arm slip around his, locking them together at the elbow. Leo’s ninpo, a soft breeze instead of the playful gale it’s supposed to be, weaves through Mikey’s own to lead it. 

‘Like this,’ the wind tells the sunburst, guiding it through the process it wants it to take the same way bigger hands used to guide a smaller Mikey through katas, readjusting his arms and poking him playfully on the beak when he scrunched it in frustration. The golden portal that opens beneath their feet costs him nothing, appearing as effortlessly as Leo’s spinning blue ones always do. 

The agent’s face goes slack with shock the second before the turtles disappear. 

They land on the sofa with enough force that it almost collapses, and Leo makes a pained noise, hands pressed to his plastron like he’s trying to contain a full-body ache with sheer willpower. Mikey scrambles off of him and falls off the sofa for his trouble. His clothes are prickly, like he’s covered in static electricity. A magazine left on the coffee table begins to move, pages flipping as if in a breeze. One of the beanbag chairs lifts up slightly, like gravity has gotten lighter in that specific spot. 

He feels too big for himself. There are multitudes inside him, a million different things that are all true at the same time. He’s still so angry, and he’s still so afraid, and he’s still just Mikey, who couldn’t be what Leo needed him to be until the last possible second. 

Just Mikey, who Leo saves his best smile for. Just Mikey, who Leo hugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bring another person that close and trust them right next to his heart. 

“You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Leo says, like it’s another truth Mikey can keep for as long as he wants. Forever, even.

There will be hell to pay when their brothers get home. There’s a brand-new danger their family needs to be made aware of. Leo tried to leave him behind again and it reopened a wound that was still raw and healing.

But for now that wild star in his heart doesn’t need to burn so bright. It can put all the furniture that began to float back down and go back to sleep. And Mikey can press his face into the cracked print of Leo’s favorite Chappell Roan hoodie and say, “Hope you enjoyed your last taste of freedom for the next hundred years.”

Leo laughs, but doesn’t let go of Mikey right away. He clings extra hard for an extra long minute.

He would have left, Mikey realizes, but he didn’t want to go. When he was alone on the Technodrome, staring down a monster and a portal and the truth of how to save everyone, he didn’t want to go. If there was any other choice, he would have taken it. He would have come home. 

Mikey isn’t Leo, who will do what he has to do no matter what it costs himself. Mikey isn't Raph or Donnie. Mikey is and always has been the spoiled baby of the family, who will do exactly what he wants to do and damn the consequences. He’ll tear a thousand holes open in the universe if that’s what it takes to keep his family together, and if the Hamato ancestors don’t like it then they can come and take their ninpo back. 

They can try, anyway. 

[blackbirdswillsing]

On Gothic

a cute helpful guide on the gothic subculture that no one asked for <3

goth music springing from the late 1970s after the post punk movement was a subculture heavily inspired by the themes found in victorian gothic literature

gothic literature:

frankenstein - mary shelley

dracula - bram stoker

jekyll and hyde - robert stevenson

wuthering heights - emily bronte

rebecca - daphne du maurier

edgar allen poe <3

some keywords that come from gothic literature that can help you spot a goth song:

'dark' 'death' 'black' 'cold' 'heaven' 'hell' 'witches 'bats' 'night' 'roses' 'blood' 'church' 'forest' 'jesus' 'grey' 'horror' 'shadow' 'sacrifice' 'tears' 'ghost' 'spells' 'cry' 'love' 'haunted' 'funeral' 'cathedral'

Some other themes in a song that can help you to decide if it goth or not can be:

heavy bass

synth sounds (the song sounds like it was recorded in an empty church)

mysterious and whimsical vocals

deep vocals

lack of a (electric) guitar

The 1980's and 90's were the peak for the gothic subculture, especially in camden market, london, england

Some bands that were prominent at the time were...

Bauhaus

The Cure

Sisters of Mercy

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Christian Death

Clan of Xymox

The Cramps

Depeche Mode

New Order

Joy Division

Alien Sex Fiend

Fields of the Nephilim

Killing Joke

The Damned

Nick Cave

Softcell

Some other goth band recs:

Boy Harsher

Children on Stun

Earth Calling Angela

Molchat Doma

Forever Grey

Horror Vacui

Lebanon Hanover

London After Midnight

Male Tears

The March Violets

The Merry Thoughts

Paradise Lost

Paralysed Age

Plastique Noir

Rendez Vous

Rosetta Stone

Selofan

She Wants Revenge

Skinny Puppy

Specimen

This Cold Night

Tragic Black

Traitrs

Type O Negative

Twin Tribes

ULTRA SUNN

Xmal Deutschland

Your Funeral

The 69 Eyes

Please let me know which ones i've missed because these are just ones that I have taken from my own playlist!

The music is the number one most important part of goth subculture and you don't have to dress goth to be goth... but it sure is fun to do so! Goth fashion holds its roots in thrifting, upcycling and sustainable fashion (buying 'goth' clothes from shein, dollskill and killstar is a big no no).

Anyone can style their gothic outfits however they like but here are some examples of different styles:

Trad(itional) Goth:

Romantic Goth:

Victorian Goth:

The styles can get very similar so let me know if i’ve mixed any up!

I’ve reached the limit on the number of pictures i can add so here are some more examples of goth styles:

Corporate goth

Gothabilly

Mall Goth

Cyber Goth

J-Goth

Baby Bat

Mopey Goth

Vampire Goth

Steam punk

To end the post i'm circling back to gothic literature by listing some films too (which are often based on the books)

Everyone's beloved: Bela Lugosi in the first adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula in 1931

The Crow 1994 which comes with a song from The Cure

Interview with the Vampire 1994

The Rocky Horror Picture Show 1975

Edward Scissor Hands 1990

The Addams family 1991 (if he's not like gomez then i don't want him)

The Craft 1996

That's all I have for now and if you made it this far thank you so much for reading and have a nice day <3

current goth song on repeat:

[mediumgayitalian]

In his head he is brave enough to say it: gods, you are beautiful in the moonlight. He is. He has made Nico weak in the knees since they were fifteen and new and fragile as spun glass, and he does now. In the moonlight his radiance is much subtler; he is opal and pearl and quartz, he is shining and multifaceted.

Instead he traces the bob of Will’s throat, his long, freckly neck, cratered with burn scars and cupped with a raised white scar from years of endless picking; follows the wild winding wisps of his hair, barely held back by his old sunglasses, compressed in coils around his head like a pen spring squished to the size of its threads, creaking with the weight of its own potential energy, brimming with the imagined burst of its future; memorizes the fluttering flap of his feathering eyelashes, the delicate dips of his deepened Cupid’s bow, the roughened raze of his wide rowdy hands. All of him is in motion, always, but now especially, hands twitching on the wheel, head thrown back, mouth wide and shaking along with his shoulders.

“I really like your laugh,” and it’s quick, vowels tumbling over each other and tripping the consonants, a queue of clumsy hopefuls scrambling over shoulders and clasping hands. The pretty laughter fades and arched eyebrows replace it, poorly hidden surprise, twitching smile lines, and Nico looks deliberately forward, mortification cackling along each of his wire-tense muscles, dancing along the shimmering heat of his face. “It’s. Wide.”

“Wide?” asks Will carefully, craning his neck to glance in his blind spot, whispering chuckles dancing along to the beat of the blinker.

“Wide,” Nico confirms, flicking out his hands. His fingers are not nearly as long, nor as wiry or corded, but the scarring is mirrored. Nicks and scratches and burn marks and calluses, topographic maps of time spent.

Will’s turn is successful — the strawberry baskets dip dangerously from their precarious perch on backseats, but don’t fall, shifting over and around each other to burst tiny globules of stretched taut flesh, rubbing against rough reed ribbons. Nico inhales deeply, and the sweet is almost nauseating, summer fruit twisting in the air along with lavender body wash and Blistex and Texas summer sun.

“You take up space.”

“My laugh?”

Laughter in his words in his hands in his skin, in his eyes, in the coils of his hair, in his grass-stained heels, in the bends of his scar-bleached knees. In the dancing dots of his face arms chest legs. In the dip of his bottom lip, crater under his too-big front teeth. In the jut of his crooked spine and wide hips.

“What about my laugh?”

It is in his words more often than not and in Nico’s dreams even more so. It curls around the blurry edges of his dreams and weaves into daisy-strong chains, dangling from the too-high ceilings of his nightmares, coiling around his arms and chest and back and yanking with the force of breaking ribs, the force of bellows, the force of clasped bloodless hands. Dragging him across trench gouged ground to bright light and clear air and the distant memory of summer rain.

“That you like, I mean.”

“It’s snorting,” Nico confesses. Will reddens, and Nico smiles, under the heat of it grows sunflower and dandelion and tinted brown-eyes Susans. “Um. Loud.”

“Geez,” Will grumbles, “tell a guy the truth, why don’t you.”

Nico has never seen gold under silver nightlight and it fascinates him, how Will sparks and shimmers, how when the sun sets it does not fade away. How the tiny specks of precious metal weave through him like tinsel and glow in veins of sweet summer memory; how the warm night billows and blows around him lovingly, how the breeze from the open window greets him like a precious grandchild, a beloved nephew. Seedchild; beloved of the earth and sun, performer under the moon, the stars.

Will’s wide hands inch across the dash, brushing over the ancient radio dials and dipping over the skipping cassette, pausing by the base of the gearshift and resting, limply, palm open, fingers cracked and spread. Knuckles popping and chittering amongst themselves, hiding in the bent hoods of wrinkled skin. Nico lowers his heavy hands on the heated hopeful hesitance, curling his cool fingers around much longer ones, and squeezing, once, twice, thrice.

“I like your laugh,” he repeats. He rolls his shoulders, hands flexing, twitching, pulling.

Will’s hand tightens. The road opens up and the Atlantic glimmers beside them, moon whispering to its rippling waves, and he smiles, grins, wider than before, and he is laughing, again, and it is wider even this time, as wide as the sparkling silver water.

“I hear you.”

He squeezes.

You are beautiful in the moonlight. You are beautiful all the time.

Nico squeezes back.

[gingerbloof]

red (astarion x fem fighter!tav)

contents: light smut, fingering, tav getting injured, blood, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of other companions (Halsin, Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale), bathing/skinny dipping in a hot spring Astarion being an absolute sweetheart, use of safe word (hard stop), non-sexual intimacy

author's note: gahhh finally i got this request finished! this is a anon request from my smut prompt list (which you can find in my masterlist!) it's more fluff/hurt/comfort than smut, because i wanted to change it up a bit since its been rather smutty on my blog thus far, but regardless, i hope you all enjoy! (image taken from @dailyastarionpics) word count: 3,821

It was yet another excruciating day of traveling Faerun, and unfortunately with no leads on curing your ceremorphosis. You and your party drudged their feet sluggishly back into camp, wishing for nothing but the sweet release of sleep. Even though the sun was already starting to peak over the horizon and morning dew started to bead on each blade of grass your tired feet landed on.

Karlach, half asleep already, started the pointless fire as Shadowheart went around to heal everyone. Once she made your way to you, her eyes widened. She brushed silver bangs off her face so she could look at you clearly. Her face grew with worry as she spoke.

“Tav… How did that happen?” She asked, pointing to your ribs. Your face scrunched up in confusion as you looked down at yourself. You then see a horrific wound that wrapped from the front side of your ribcage that wrapped around to your back. You stare at it wearily,  blood dripping down your skin and mixing with the dirt under your feet.

You suddenly grew pale as you felt the adrenaline from your last battle start to wear off. You tried your best to keep your composure. Years as a fighter taught you that there was no use in submitting to any wounds you may have gotten from battle. Lae’zel admired that about you, which is why it surprised you when she looked over from her tent and raised her eyebrows in surprise and rush over to you.

“Tsk’va! Tav what the hells happened?!” She asked, a very rare worried tone in her voice.

You let out a sound between a chuckle and a scoff. “It’s just a… scratch,” The last word was soft and breathy, then you felt your body begin to sway, and your surroundings blur, until darkness clouded over you. The last thing you heard was your beloved fanged partner shout “Darling!” before you submitted to the pitch blackness of unconsciousness.

***

You woke up with a groan, pain shooting through your side. You open your eyes slowly, the world slowly coming back into focus. You were snug in your bedroll, shirtless, and caked in sweat. The injury you got must’ve infected you at some point and gave you a fever, which was now thankfully breaking.

You looked down at your injury and saw that it was quickly healing, probably thanks to the help of both Halsin and Shadowheart. Careful stitches held your broken flesh together, which you knew was thanks to Astarion, whom you barely noticed was right next to you reading a book. You started to sit up as he snapped his book shut and shifted so he was on his side facing you. 

“Easy, darling!” He said concerningly, laying you back down slowly. You looked up at him with sleepy eyes as you allowed him to lay you back down. “You’re still in a bit of bad shape, no sudden movement, alright?” He said soothingly, running his slender pale fingers through your hair and laying a kiss on your forehead.

You sighed softly with a bit of frustration, leaning into his kiss. “I’m fine, my love…” You said, your voice low and gruff. “‘Tis but a flesh wound, I promise.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “‘My love, I don’t believe a ‘flesh wound’ would cause you to collapse from blood loss and get… twelve stitches,” He said, glancing briefly at your injury and counting them quickly. “We also had to pull a rather big chunk of metal out of your side…” You sigh again and carefully cross your arms over your chest, pouting at him. “I’ve had a lot worse, you know,” You said in a snarky tone, pointing to the big gash in your face that you had gotten years ago.

He gasped and placed his hand over his chest in a sarcastic manner. “Oh, I’m so sorry! It seems I have forgotten that such a strong bodied fighter such as yourself doesn’t need any comfort,” He said cheekily, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk as your face flushed bright red.

“I-I didn’t say that!” You pouted even more, turning your head away from him. Regardless of your strong outer shell, he always brought out your very well hidden soft interior. He was the only one who could do it, and knowing that inflated his already massive ego.

He laughed heartily at your reaction, gently taking your chin in his cold hand and turning your head back around to face him. “You are utterly adorable,” He cooed, giving you a quick smooch on the lips. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up, darling. No offense, my love, but you smell like death.”

You frown and sniff yourself briefly, the smell of stale blood and sweat assaulting your nostrils. How embarrassing… You nodded, and he very carefully helped you up. He pulled off his own nightshirt for you to wear, and linked your arm with his so you didn’t stumble.

As you exit your tent, the assaulting rays of the afternoon sun almost blind you. You squint in the light and use your hand to shield your eyes as Shadowheart and Halsin quickly rush over to you both, relief washing over their faces.

“Tav! You’re awake, thank Selune!” Shadowheart beamed, cupping your face gently. You smile warmly at her and chuckle. As your best friend, other than Astarion of course, Shadowheart was always giving you sweet friendly touches. You adored having someone like her around.

Halsin was next to speak, his large frame thankfully shielding the sun from your still very tired eyes. “Thank the Oak Father… We were worried your injuries were far too grave for us to heal alone. Good to see we were wrong,” He smiled warmly at you. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged as you leaned against Astarion a bit more. “I’m okay, it just hurts a bit. We’re going to the river to clean up quickly,” You respond, reassuring them that you were fine. “Of course if she’s alright enough to do so,” Astarion chimed in, lifting your shirt enough for the healers to take a look at it.

Shadowheart hummed and reached her hand out, chanting a soft “Te curo” as a soft blue light wrapped around your injury. This eased the pain quite a bit, and from the looks of it, her simple healing word seemed to have closed the gash up just a bit more. A sigh of relief left your lips as you said a silent thank you to her.

 “I think she will be fine, but I do recommend going to the hot spring, the warmth of the water and the healing properties of nature should make her feel good as new,” Halsin said. Astarion smiled at both of them. “Thank you, we shall take our leave for now, then,”

As you both turn to head towards the spring, Halsin spoke out to you once again. “Would you two mind if I joined?” A small but sweet smirk on his face. Both you and Astarion chuckled. You had both indulged yourselves with Halsin before, so it was always on the table when the time seemed right. Astarion looked to you to silently ask if that was alright, and you shook your head. You just wanted him right now…

Astarion replied on your behalf. “Mmm, tempting, but not tonight, druid. I hope you can understand.” Halsin nodded, fully understanding. “Of course. Enjoy yourselves, both of you.”

After walking for a few meters you found the spring. Neither of you have seen it before, so you both took a moment to soak up the view. There was a beautiful waterfall in the distance that led to the river, and mountains could be seen just beyond it. Moss covered rocks were placed conveniently around the steaming body of water, perfect to sit on to dip your feet in, and the trees hung low enough to lightly diminish the harsh ways of the afternoon sun from your view.

You smiled and sighed softly at the view. It was breathtaking. Astarion, however, was entranced by a different view. You.

You felt his eyes upon you and looked over to him, your eyes immediately locking with his. You tried to play it cool, looking back at the spring before you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked softly. He stepped closer to you, gently placing his hand on your hip and carefully pulling you closer, minding your wound. “Not as beautiful as you, my love,” He purred softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. You flush deeply, and not just from the steam of the spring.

You both stay there for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. He sighed a contentful sigh as he pulled away from you briefly. “Come now, my love. Let’s get you all cleaned up,” He smiled. You nodded and started removing his shirt from yourself, but he quickly stopped you, taking your hands for a brief moment. “Let me, my dear,” He gently lifted the shirt off of you, careful not to let you lift your arms up too far. The shirt pulled off of you, revealing your bruised and injured body. Crusted up blood flaked over your skin, but regardless Astarion still looked at you like you were the most beautiful being in all the Relms.

Your small clothes came next. He slowly slipped them down around your ankles leaving you bare. Astarion soon followed suit, yanking down his pants and slowly stepping into the warm water. He reached his hand out to you and you took it, following him into the water.

You sigh in relief, the warmth of the water immediately relaxing your tired muscles. You stepped further into the pool, sinking down until the water was just above your breasts. Astarion went back over to the rock he left his trousers on and pulled out a bar of soap, which you hardly even noticed he grabbed. You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Let me guess… Stolen?” You jabbed, crossing your arms lightly. Astarion half shrugged nonchalantly. “Only from Gale,” He responded with a chuckle. You roll your eyes and shake your head playfully. You weren’t surprised, he always took the opportunity to take anything important as he saw fit, especially if it was from Gale. He made his way back over to you, getting the bar of soap wet and lathering it in his hands. “Turn around, my love,” He said softly, taking your shoulders and spinning you in the water gently so your back was to him.

You comply and briefly dip yourself further into the water to wet the rest of your body. As you stood back up he placed a soft kiss on the nape of your neck and started his work. He scrubbed away the grime and flaked blood off the backs of your shoulders. You hum happily, wrapping your arm around to gently wrap your fingers around his beautiful silver locks. He wrapped his arms carefully around you, pulling you further into him. He placed soft kisses along the shell of your ear as the lather made its way to your chest and torso.

He continued to clean you innocently and sweetly for a few more moments until he turned you around. The way the suds of the soap encompassed your breasts and the golden rays of the sun making your wet skin glow flipped a switch inside of him. You were the most ethereal thing he had ever gazed upon.

You were entranced with him too. The sunlight bounced off of his beautiful pale skin, and he almost appeared to shimmer in it. His ruby eyes glinted as he looked at you, nothing but love and devotion filling them. 

“You know…” He started softly, tracing the backs of his knuckles down your arm, gazing down your figure. “I can think of some other ways to relieve some tension, darling,” His voice was a hungry purr now, honeyed words floating sweetly into your ears like a soft lullaby. You nibbled your bottom lip as you watched his movements as his hand creeped down to the front of your thigh. Once again, you tried playing it cool, despite the ever growing heat in your core. “W-What do you mean?” You asked softly.

A low chuckle left his lips. “Don’t be coy, darling. You know exactly what I mean,” A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as his fingertips gently grazed across your folds, making your breath hitch in your throat. “What’s the matter, my sweet? Cat got your tongue?” He hooked his index finger to part your folds and catch against your clit, brushing against it gently.

You grabbed his hand in an attempt to push his fingers against your swollen bundle of nerves more to get some much needed friction. He stiffened his hand, not allowing you to move it. He clicked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting in yet another devious smirk. 

“Patience, my sweet,” He purred next to your ear, his other arm snaking around and gripping your ass gently, pulling you further into him.

You stumbled a bit into him, clearly flustered by his bluntness. Uncharacteristic for someone of your class and background, but you didn’t care. Astarion brought a side out of you that you haven’t felt safe enough to channel in years, and you were very grateful for him for it.

He chuckled at your apparent shyness, placing soft kisses along your ear making you shiver. “S-Star…” You whimpered, making him groan. He loved that nickname, and you always knew the right times to use it. “Yes, darling? What is it?” He replied smugly, his feather light touches grazing your folds again, making you tense up.

“Please…” You mumble, making him groan in playful frustration. “My darling, we’ve gone over this multiple times… You must– say it with me now… use your words,” You shyly said those three cursed words along with him. As he said, you have gone over it multiple times, but you were much too stubborn to give in and actually tell him what you wanted. That was, until you were too desperate for him not to care anymore. Just like how you were right now.

“Astarion,” You said sternly, trying to keep up your strong facade. “I want you to touch me. Use your fingers. Please.” The last word you spoke was soft and breathy, your stubbornness bending like a hammer to hot steel. He grinned, his fangs glinting in the glow of the setting sun. Gods, he is beautiful…

“Of course, my love. Whatever you need,” He purred, his fingers finally placing soft pressure against your hard clit. You gasped softly as he used those two slender fingers to massage soft circles into it. You shivered, despite the hot steamy water that surrounded you both, and grasped onto his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He gently ran his fingers through your hair as he continued to stroke the fire in your core. To the innocent bystander, it might’ve looked like you were just having a sweet romantic hug in the water, but down below the surface, he was giving you endless pleasure, quickly bringing you to the point of no return.

With you being inexperienced when you started being intimate with one another, it never took you long to reach an orgasm, especially if he was the one touching you. He chuckled as he felt your body tremble against his. Your blunt fingernails gently dug into his skin as you felt your orgasm creep closer and closer. Normally, he would make you ask to come because he relished in the sounds of you begging. However, given the circumstances, he decided to play nice with you today.

“That’s it, my pet… Let go,” He whispered, kissing along your shoulder gently. His pace quickened, earning him a soft airy gasp from you. Your breath wavered as his fingers continued their quickening pace against your clit, your legs starting to tremble. “A-Astarion…!” You choked out, grasping onto him for dear life. He hummed in approval as his pace quickened once again, making your eyes snap shut and let out a delicious, loud moan.

Your orgasm crashed into you like the waterfall behind you crashing into the river, your whole body twitching and spasming. You almost fell over from how hard you came, but thankfully Astarion’s stiff body kept you upright. He slowed his pace, riding you through your orgasm and whispering sweet praises into your ear. “There you go, my sweet… What a good girl you are,” He peppered kisses along your neck as he slowly withdrew his hand. 

You panted as you looked at him. Your face was beet red, and your brow was starting to bead sweat from the heat of the spring and your orgasm. He smiled sweetly down at you and caressed your cheek. “Would you like more?” He asked, as you felt his cock throb against you. You nodded eagerly, slipping your hand down beneath the water to stroke him gently. He took your wrist and shook his head.

“Please, my dear… Allow me,” He purred. He gently guided you over to a nearby rock to the shallower end of the pool. “Bend over here, darling,” He gently coaxed. You were quick with your actions, yet careful. You didn’t want to reopen your wound. You gently bent over the rock, arching your back slightly for him. He came behind you and stared at your swollen cunt, dripping with ecstasy and still twitching from your previous orgasm. He ran his hands across the swell of your ass and down the sides of your thighs, groaning softly. “Beautiful…”

He took his cock and gently pressed the tip against your hole. “Are you ready, my sweet? Are you ready to be stretched by my cock?” He asked, his tone sweet and innocent despite the filthy words. You nodded eagerly, arching your back a bit more in an attempt to push yourself onto him. “Y-Yes… Please, I need you…” You replied, your voice full of desperation.

The eagerness in your words was all the confirmation he needed. He slowly started to roll his hips into you, pressing each inch of his cock further and further into you. You moaned loudly as you stretched around him and clenched. He hissed in pleasure at your tightness as he thrust slowly in and out of you, closing his eyes. You growled softly at the feeling of you. “Gods, Tav… You feel so fucking good,” He said, pressing into you harder, earning a loud yelp from you.

Sometimes, especially in moments of insatiable desire such as this, Astarion could be a bit rough with you. It was almost like he went feral from your sounds and the feeling of you pulsating around him. Thus, you have agreed upon a word that either of you could use if things got out of hand. Neither of you had to use it yet, but if he kept up this harsh, rough pace, you would have to use it.

His speed increased, thus his roughness. The pleasure started turning into a soft, manageable pain as the tip of his cock pounded against your cervix. He must not have noticed your body tense, because he kept going, wrapping his hands around your waist, accidentally touching your stitched wound.

That is what made you say it.

 “R-Red!! Astarion, red!”

His eyes snapped open as he stopped, pulling out of you quickly and turning you around gently, his face broken with worry. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry… Did that hurt? Are you okay?” He asked, checking your wound briefly to see if he had accidentally reopened it. You panted softly, trembling a bit. You winced softly with pain. “I-It was just my injury… I think I’ll be okay,” You reassured him, feeling bad that you had ruined the moment. He shook his head. “No, darling… Let’s stop, I don’t want to cause any more harm to you. I-i don’t know what got into me, I-” 

You noticed he started rambling a bit and… Tearing up. You had yet to see him cry about anything, so this surprised you. Your face grew with worry as you caressed his cheek. “Hey… It’s okay, I’m okay,” You said gently. He leaned into your touch and shook his head again. “Gods I am so sorry…” He apologized again, his voice laced with guilt. You kissed him sweetly on the nose and smiled at him. “My heart, I’m okay. Thank you for stopping when I said it.” He chuckled at that. “Of course I stopped. I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable,” He said gently, placing a soft peck on your lips. You kissed him back and smiled warmly. You had never had anyone who cared about your safety and wellbeing as much as he did, nor him with you. You both felt so safe together, and absolutely nothing could ruin that.

He pulled away slightly and took the bar of soap again, coaxing you over with his finger. “Come, my love, let’s finish getting you washed up.”

After you both bathed, you stayed in the spring for a few hours, talking about everything and nothing and enjoying each other’s company. The moon had risen a while ago, bathing you both in its faint blue light. You stared up at the moon as you sunk down into the water to your shoulders. You barely noticed the wound anymore, and you felt relaxed and very well healed.

 Astarion had gotten out a few minutes ago to dry off. He stared at you and had a devilish idea. He smirked to himself as he slowly slipped back into the water, trying not to make too much noise. He snuck up behind you, totally oblivious. Just as he was about to splash you with water, you flipped around and got his face and hair soaking wet, making him groan in frustration. “Gahh, my hair! My beautiful hair!” He pouted, making you laugh hysterically. “Sneaking up on a fighter, really, my love?” You said through laughs. He scowled a bit, then started to laugh as well. “Foolish idea, I know…” He admitted, wading closer to you. “But you didn’t have to ruin my hair…” He whined. You grin evilly at him, lifting your hand to his head.

“No, no! Stay back, you!” He shouted as he tried to get away from you. You chased him around the pool for a bit, laughter and playful banter filling the night.

Halsin and Shadowheart were silently watching you both from the clearing just before the pool, smiling sweetly. “She seems to be doing a lot better now, doesn’t she, Halsin?” Shadowheart queried, making Halsin chuckle as he replied. “What can I say… Love certainly is the best medicine.”

[jeankluv]

The forgotten boy - Geto Suguru | Chapter 01

Words: 3k

Summary: He made a deal with the devil, over 1,000 years ago. Just for the sake of his loved ones but the deal came with a condition. Everyone he met from now on, would forget about his existence within minutes, and will be like that for the rest of the eternity

Like that Geto Suguru has lived for the last 1000 years being forgotten but everyone he met, not being remembered by anyone and being alone.

"You remember me?"

You nodded. “Of course I do.” You smiled. “You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee.”

ac: _3aem

Tags: fantasy au, modern settings and historical settings, angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, magical themes, use of y/n, no physical appearance except for some freckles reader has.

Notes: first chapter of this new Suguru fic. A few things I have to say about this fic is that it has more text, more inner dialogues and information. Flashbacks. It’s also dual pov or more like external pov, we will be able to see what both main characters think. Also sorry if there are any mistakes or typos, English is not my first language. I hope everyone enjoys this story.

materialist | next chapter

"In any lifetime, I swear I will find you. I swear."

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

Suguru got out of the bus and walked across the street. He always took the same route. And for some time now he had always come across the same faces, whose names he did not know but he did remember his faces. Unlike him, those people could meet him a million times and never remember his name or his face.

But it was the price he had to pay for the sins he had committed 1,000 years ago and would continue to pay until the end of the world.

His feet stood in front of the coffee shop that had recently opened its doors. The coffee they served was the best he had tasted in the city, and today he had decided to go there again to drink that same coffee again and feel like he belonged to that reality.

He waited in line, like a mere mortal, and when a boy of only about twenty years old arrived at the counter, he was greeted with a smile. Suguru without saying another word asked him for a coffee and retired to wait for it to be served. He sat at one of the many tables that the cafeteria had until his name came over the speakers.

"Kento"

It wasn't his real name, but with the curse besides from not aging and being forgotten by everyone. It also happened that Suguru could not say his name, nor say it, nor even write it, if he tried it would disappear as if nothing had ever been written on the paper. That is why he changed his name constantly.

"Enjoyed it"

You with big eyes and freckles crossing your face smiled at him, Suguru smiled back and took the coffee from you.

He sat back down at the table he was before and looked out the window. It was April, a month that brought back distant, very distant memories of his childhood. Where the snow had already disappeared from the roads of the village where he lived and the flowers were beginning to bloom, ushering in spring and the beginning of his countless afternoons of fun with his best friend. But those were just memories now, nothing more than that. Memories that only he remembered and that those who appeared in them had long since left.

The world continued to rotate, change and evolve, while he continued to hope that one day he would once again be the boy who went to the banks of the river to hunt tadpoles.

He finished the coffee and left the tip on the table and then left that cafeteria. And he began to walk, aimlessly and without any rush, since what mattered least to him was time, because he had plenty of that.

He had returned to what had once been his home village and had now become an urban metropolis, just a few years ago. After being cursed, Suguru decided to leave his beloved home behind, nothing and no one needed him there anymore and the only thing he could bring was bad omens. And that's why he traveled the world, using different names always being forgotten on the same day. He had spent the last hundred years in the UK, but he had decided to return to Japan after so long and see how it was.

His blood ran cold when he got off that plane and began to walk the streets that once seemed familiar to him. Everything was different, everything except a hill where he used to go with...

Suguru shook his head and turned to look in the direction of the hill, which remained the same. As if nothing had changed. People who were going for a walk or run, walked by there, and with his hands in his pockets, he went up and up. He remembered the hill being much bigger, but that was probably because everything seemed so much bigger to him as a child. He sat on the bench there and simply watched the horizon as the hours began to pass.

Something that the curse brought is that he did not feel tired, hungry, or sleepy. The first time he noticed it, he stopped eating for too long, a time where no human being could continue living. It was then that he understood that at that very moment he made the deal, he had stopped being like the rest of humans.

The sun had set hours ago and those who were walking or running on the hill had long since left. He got up from the bench and began to walk with a specific direction, this time. He entered the luxurious building and clicked on the floor where he was going. When he reached it he walked down the hallway, dragging his feet until he reached the door. He entered the code he borrowed months ago (as he liked to say) from that “friend” of his and entered on that apartment.

He knew the apartment would be empty, he knew the owner's schedule well. He considered him a friend, if that was even possible. But Suguru didn't care, or at least that's what he told himself.

Shortly after arriving in Japan he had met a man named Nanami Kento, he was a businessman and they had met in a cafeteria, the conversations flowed normally and safely. The next day when Suguru found him there again he showed up again and had another different conversation. Perhaps under different circumstances Nanami would have also considered him his friend.

Suguru sat on the couch and closed his eyes. He knew that Nanami wouldn't be coming home for the next two weeks, so he might have a place to rest for at least two weeks. You might think that what he did was low, but he had lived for more than 1,000 years and during all that time he had had to find ways to live, like a normal person. Even if that meant lying and manipulating others, but it didn't matter because they would forget about him.

He looked up at the ceiling and felt the comfort of that apartment. It was warm there but he couldn't call it a home. When was the last time he had a place to call a home?

Probably around 450 years ago. He was living in Italy, in a remote house that was long abandoned, it was just him and the dog that welcomed him the first time. He always wondered if animals could remember him or just like anyone else they would forget about him. He didn't know but that dog would always show up in front of that abandoned house and move it's tail whenever he welcomed him.

But soon enough, the dog died and he was left alone once again. He lived in that house for another 100 years, a lot of time for many, short for him. It was then when he decided to move to America and lived there, in different places, different countries and then he moved back to Europe, to England to be exact where he witnessed the changes of the world and cruelty of the humanity.

Suguru had lived too long, he had learned different languages, known different cultures, and heard thousands and thousands of stories. But he was tired, living so much and not having anyone to share his experiences, or moments, was exhausting. And frankly, it crossed Suguru's mind more than once to end everything, he even tried it, but when that demon appeared before him the first time he tried, he warned him.

"If you end the contract we sealed, you will become a curse and for the rest of the centuries, I will make you torment the reincarnations of those you once loved."

He never tried it again.

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

"I will give you anything, but please grant me that wish, let me save them."

"Anything eh?"

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

Suguru opened his eyes to the sunlight that slipped through the window, announcing a new day in the world. He stretched his stiff muscles and headed to the kitchen of the apartment. He took one of the fruits that Nanami had and ate it and then went to the bathroom and took a leisurely shower. They were those small moments that made him feel completely human again.

He left the bathroom and went to the closet. He was lucky to be wearing a size similar to Nanami's. He grabbed a white shirt and a black knit vest for the top and black pants for the bottom. Walking to the couch she grabbed the long jacket and some coins from the counter. Was he an asshole for doing that? Probably, but after so much time it was easy for him.

Just like the day before and the day before, he took the same bus, greeted the driver with a smile and sat in the same seat as always. Where he contemplated the city that dawned. He got off at the same stop and took the same route to the cafeteria.He waited in line for his turn to arrive. And he began to think about his current life, monotonous, gray and rotating.

He ordered the usual thing again and sat down at the same table again, until he heard that new name that he had chosen, because his could never leave his lips.

"Kento!"

The same girl, the same smile, the same freckles. All the same.

"Here you have." You said, hanging him the coffee.

"Thank you." Suguru took his coffee and smiled back at you.

He sat back down at the same table and watched out the window for who knows how long. But what difference did it make, right? If when they became aware of his presence again they would think that he had just arrived. The cafeteria went from being crowded in the early hours of the morning to being calmer.

"Do you want more coffee?" Suguru could feel his heart beating out of his chest when he felt the voice next to him. "I have noticed your cup is empty." You with your freckles crossing your face and a smile on you shiny face, pointed at his cup. "You want more?"

Suguru looked at his, now empty cup and then back at you. "No, it's okay."

You hesitated for a moment. "But are you sure? It's in the house, so please accept it." You smiled.

Suguru handed you the cup. "Alright." He knew that once you disappeared from his sight, you would forget him and a new cup of coffee would never return.

You smiled at him and ran to the bar counter. Suguru looked outside again and mentally told himself that he would wait 5 minutes and then he would leave.

Five minutes passed and Suguru turned to look at you, who were talking to your coworker. Suguru sighed and stood up from his seat. He didn't understand why after so much time he still had a modicum of hope.

He walked to the exit and left the small cafeteria. And again the same routine as every day, walking aimlessly until his feet got tired, even a little, sitting down to observe the landscape and returning to his "friend's" "borrowed" apartment.

And like that another day went by and another one began. Same routine. Wake up, shower, eat something, take the same bus, walk, wait in the queue for his morning coffee, wait at the table.

"Here." A voice he already heard before spoke. Suguru looked up meeting the smiley face of the same girl he met yesterday, you. "I'm sorry for yesterday. I got busy with my coworker Yuji and when I was going to give you your order, you were already gone." Something inside Suguru reeled. "That's why, this one is on me."

Suguru still didn't say a word. Was his mind playing with him? It was not possible that you remembered him? It was not.

"Is everything okay?" You tilted your head looking at him with curiosity.

"You..." He swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. "You remember me?"

You nodded. "Of course I do." And smiled. "You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee."

It wasn't possible, it wasn't, you couldn't remember. No one in 1,000 years had been able to do it. How come you were capable now? No no no. Suguru's head didn't stop spinning. Too many questions had accumulated.

"You are okay?" You moved closer to him with clear concern on your face.

"I..." Suguru tried to catch his breath, he felt like he was out of breath and in any moment he was going to pass out.

"Hey!" You touched his shoulder and kneeled in front of him. "Tried to follow my breathing okay?" Suguru nodded. He followed your instructions until he could feel the air entering his lungs normally again.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"It's nothing, but you scared me." You stood back up. "Kento..."

Suguru looked at you in confusion and then remembered that was his new fake name. "Yeah, that's me... You haven't told me your name."

"Y/n." You said with a smile to him and Suguru smiled.

Your name was called by the boy that Suguru had seen behind the counter, the days he had been coming, he had pink hair and was always smiling, just like you.

"I'm coming Yuji!" You shouted and turned around to look at him once again. "My coworker is calling me. But stay here as much as you want."

"I will." He said your name once again to say goodbye.

"Bye Kento!"

Suguru waved at you and stayed in silence, was he dreaming? For the first time in 1,000 years he was feeling alive. But he was also terrified. What if this was just a coincidence and everything would vanish as soon as he left that coffee shop? No, you said you knew him from the previous days, which means the curse didn't happen when he left the other days.

His knee moved up and down, nervously, he didn't want to leave, but knowing that you remembered him it would seem strange if he stayed there for many hours. You'd think he was crazy or something.

An hour passed by and then he stood but before leaving he went searching for you. He wanted to see you, wanted to know you, he wanted to feel alive like he felt when talking to you.

He swallowed and turned to the pink-haired boy behind the bar. "Excuse me."

The boy turned and gave him a smile. "Good morning, would you like something to drink?"

Suguru for a moment felt like a bucket of cold water was being dumped on him.

"Oh Kento!" There you were, once again smiling at him and remembering him.

"Hi." He whispered only you being able to hear him.

"Y/n, you know him?" The boy wondered.

"Yeah! He comes here every single day, at the same hour and orders the same thing." You kept on looking at him. "You literally attended to him all these days!"

"Did I?" He titled his head. "I'm sorry I can't remember."

"Don't worry." Suguru smiled. "A lot of people come here, it's normal that you don't remember me."

"With that face it is hard to forget about you..." Suguru heard you whispered for yourself.

When you noticed the gaze of him looking at you, your cheeks started to grew red.

"Oh." You covered your mouth. "Did I say that out loud?" Suguru nodded, trying to hid the smile that was forming on his lips. "Sorry! That was very inappropriate! But I think it's true...You are really handsome and a face like yours is not easy to forget."

"Thank you. I think you are the first person that has ever told me that." Suguru noticed you nervously looking around, like trying to hide somewhere after what you said. "I wanted to talk with you." You looked back at him. "If you have time."

You looked around and nodded. "Yeah, there isn't a lot of people around, so it's fine." They walked to the side, so they wouldn't disturb the people. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I was wondering when do you finish your shift."

You opened her mouth, forming an O in surprise. "In..." You thought for a moment. "An hour and a half."

"Great." Suguru nodded. "Then I would like to invite you to a coffee, if that's okay with you of course."

Suguru felt nervous for the first time in ages, but he liked it. He liked it because that made him feel more human, more real.

"I..." You hesitated.

Suguru wanted to slap himself, of course you would say no and think he was a freak. "Sorry, I probably made you uncomfortable."

"No, no it's not that." You shook your head. "We can go and grab a coffee without a problem." That made Suguru smile. "But I will have to leave early, I have other things to take care of." Suguru nodded, it was okay for him.

"It's fine by me."

"Then... I will see you once my shift is over."

"Alright."

Suguru said goodbye to you and left the cafeteria, it would be too strange to stay there so he decided to walk to that hill and wait. For the first time in a long time he felt truly alive. And happy.

Notes: end of first chapter, I hope everyone enjoyed it. Sorry if there are any mistakes, also if you see a “she” or “her” please let me know, bc the fic at the beginning was written in the third person so there might be a mistake there.

Also I will try to be as historic accurate as possible when talking about Geto’s life during those 1,000 years. My notes on my phone are completely mess with names and dates, not to mess anything 😅

- comment if you want to be tagged.

🏷️: @drownedpoetess @aducksmokingquack @walkingtravesty97 @pdacex @zhenyuuu @n1vi @blendingcaramal @mimiixen @bbyxxm @paprikaquinn @my1fx

[suguwu]

christmas countdown

Your company is taking on a new project and desperately wants the backing and expertise of retired CEO Jing Yuan. Dispatched out into the countryside to bring him on board, you find it won't be as easy as you think.

Jing Yuan strikes a bargain with you: spend the upcoming days with him, until Christmas Eve, and he'll tell you exactly what it will take for him to come back if you don't figure it out yourself.

Let the Christmas countdown begin.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

pairing: jing yuan x gn!reader

word count: 16k (whoops)

notes: this came about through dms with my beloveds @petrichorium and @lorelune! they both were invaluable, and lore also was kind enough to beta for me, along with another friend. this fic feels like it possessed me; i wrote it in just over a week.

fic notes: hallmark au, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), jing yuan is taller than the reader, age gap (jing yuan is in his early 50s, reader is in their late 30s), this is mostly just fluff.

divider by @/cafekitsune.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“This is the third Christmas you’re missing,” she says, voice thickening, and you can almost see the way her eyes are going glassy with tears, shining beautifully in the light.

“I know. But this project is huge and I’m so close to the promotion—”

“You’ve been saying that for years.” 

“This is different. The CEO herself asked for me,” you say with a sigh.

“When would you leave?”

“I leave tomorrow.”

“That’s almost a week until Christmas! Maybe you’ll get back in time! Or maybe it can wait until the new year?”

“No, Mom. The project is waiting on getting this person on board, it can’t wait that much longer. It’s just Christmas, I don’t see why this is such a big deal.”

“It’s time with your family,” she snaps, the words shattering at the edges, honed keen with hurt. 

“I’m sorry. Next year, okay?”

“That’s what you said last year.”

“Mom.”

“Fine. But think about it, please. We miss you.”

You sigh. “I miss you guys too.”

The conversation continues on from there; she tells you that your father has taken up gardening, renting out a space in a greenhouse nearby, coaxing it into a full lushness that has him coming home flecked with flower petals. He’s already plotting out a vegetable garden come spring. 

You listen as she chatters away, throwing in the occasional “uh-huh” as you scroll through your emails, typing as quietly as you can. You pause as she goes silent.

“Mom?”

“Are you working right now?” 

You wince. “I just had a few emails—”

The line goes so quiet that you reach for your phone to see if your earbuds have disconnected. They haven't. Your stomach roils.

“Mom?”

“We’ll talk later, then,” your mother says, and the pit in your stomach grows at the sorrow threading through her voice. “Good night.”

You hesitate. Then your email pings again.

“Night, Mom.” 

She hangs up, and the click of the line sounds like a dour bell, but it’s chased from your mind by the bright chirp of your email. You settle back down with your laptop, digging into work once more. 

When you finally glance up from your laptop screen hours later, your eyes stinging, you realize it’s snowing. 

In the orange glow of the streetlights, the flakes look like embers flickering through the sky, like the sparks of a bonfire on a summer’s eve. It’ll be stomped into slush tomorrow, trodden under so many boots, but for now the snow dances through the air, a ballet all its own.

It muffles the world, blanketing your apartment in oppressive quiet, and not for the first time you feel small in your own home. You shiver. The high ceilings of your apartment feel like a gaping maw, arching and empty. 

You shift uneasily and turn on a soft lofi playlist despite the headache that’s settled in at your temples. It fills the air, creeps all the way to the empty corners of your apartment and softens them with sound. 

You let out a gentle breath. Still, something cold uncurls behind your ribs, sinks its teeth into bone until it hits marrow. You pick up your phone, swiping up to your messages with your best friend, and you’re halfway through typing out a message before you catch yourself. A quick glance at the clock makes you wince. Your phone thunks against the table as you toss it down. 

It’s late and she has a new baby—she needs as much sleep as she can get. You can’t disturb her, not for something as silly as this. You scrub a hand over your face and get to your feet.

It’s quiet as you get ready for bed, even the soft music doing little to soothe you. You turn on every lamp in your bedroom, flood the room with light, until it’s as if the sun has risen and is cradling you in its warmth. You keep them on until the last moment, flicking them off only when you’re tucked in bed. 

That cold thing stays with its fangs sunk in until you fall asleep. 

***

The airport is nearly deserted by the time you land.

It’s late, night blanketing the terminal, held at bay only by the light pollution of the airport. Your shoes click against the linoleum as you hurry through the empty hallways, eager to be done with your exhausting day of travel. 

The taxi driver that heaves your suitcase into the trunk is talkative, but you’re too busy checking your phone, flicking through the emails that poured in while you were in the air. The car rumbles to life beneath you as you pull up an attachment, scanning over the analysis quickly, scratching out a few notes on a scrap piece of paper you’ve pulled from your bag. The countryside rolls by as you work, pitch black except for a few lit windows from passing houses, little lighthouses in the deep sea of the night. 

“Here we are,” the taxi driver says cheerfully, killing the engine in front of the inn. 

It’s clearly old but well-maintained, a piece of the past caught in the resin of time. There are fake candles guttering in each window. The wreath on the door is almost as big as the door itself, dotted with lights that twinkle like little silver stars and topped off with a perfect crimson bow. 

“Thanks,” you say to the driver, trading a tip for your suitcase before heading up the steps of the inn. The scent of pine wafts around you; you step inside before it can stick to your clothes. 

“Hi,” you say to the receptionist, who puts down her magazine. “I’m here to check in.”

“Name?”

You tell her. She nods and you check your phone again as she checks you in. Luckily, it doesn’t take long, because the long day is beginning to weigh on you, an ache deep in your bones. 

“Let us know if there’s anything you need,” the receptionist says.

“Thanks.”

You pay little attention to the room, simply stowing your suitcase before pulling your laptop from your carry-on bag. There’s a small desk that you settle at; your laptop screen glows brightly as you open it. The world blurs, smears like a watercolor. You blink the fuzziness away to answer a few more emails. 

A few turns into many, catching up on all of your current projects now that you have another project to take care of. The headache that slowly blooms is familiar; it lingers behind your left eye, throbbing like a wound. It’s what finally gets you to set down your laptop for the night. It’s late enough that when you peer out the window while getting ready for bed, even the stars seem to have gone cold, twinkling faintly. 

By the time you crawl into bed, you don’t even want to look at the clock. Still, you see it when you set your alarm, and you wince. You only have a few hours before it goes off. You curse yourself and roll over to finally, finally go to sleep. 

Tomorrow comes too quickly. You wake with the sun, before your alarm, watery light pouring into your room, pooling in soft gold puddles on the floor. It catches on the prism dangling from the window, throwing rainbows against the walls, a whirling ballet of color. 

You make a mental note to close the curtains tonight. You hadn’t even realized they were open, with how dark the countryside is around the inn, far too used to the ambient light of the city. When you peer out the window, all you see is woods framing a large, clear space still dusted with snow. 

In daylight the inn is even more quaint, brimming with Christmas decor: with thick garlands draped over the doorway arches, weighted down with golden ornaments that catch the light, sending it flickering like the flames roaring in the fireplace. Sprigs of holly are tucked among the garlands too, little fireworks of color. Add in the mounds of fake snow lining a sprawling ceramic village and it’s a picture-perfect display. You trace a finger over the tiny wreath on the village bakery’s door. 

“Mornin’,” someone says behind you, a deep rumble of a voice, shaking through you like thunder splitting the sky. You turn around and find a man beaming at you.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Looking for breakfast? It’s in the dining room, right through there.” 

“I was really just looking for coffee.”

“That’s in the dining room too,” he says. “I’m Lee. I own the inn with my husband.”

“Oh,” you say. “That’s nice. It’s lovely. I’m sorry, though, I really have to get to work.”

He raises a brow. There’s a whole conversation in that brow, you think. One you’re not interested in having. 

You give him a tight smile. “Excuse me,” you say. “That coffee is calling me.”

“Sure,” he says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

You trade nods with a few other guests as you get your coffee, but you’re in and out of the loud dining room in a matter of minutes. Your room, foreign as it is to you still, is a welcome respite from the chatter that fills the inn. 

The coffee is good. It’s rich and nutty, the warmth of it warding off the slight chill that lingers in the room from the large windows. You try to peer out one of them but it’s whorled with frost, ice spun over the glass like embroidery, just opaque enough to let in the light.  

You settle back down at the little desk and boot up your laptop. Your inbox has slowly filled up again, and you’re starting to work through it when your boss slacks you. 

Qingzu: You’re off your regular projects for now.

Me: ??? I’m almost done with the analysis.

Qingzu: Fu Xuan wants you to concentrate on bringing Jing Yuan on board. I’ll delegate your usual tasks. 

You wince. Your coworkers are going to hate you.

Me: I can still do the analysis at least.

Qingzu: What the CEO says goes. Focus on the job she gave you. 

Qingzu: Also it looks like the address we have on file for Jing Yuan is outdated.

Qingzu: You might need to do a little searching. 

Me: Okay.

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face before exiting out of your email. Not for the first time, you wonder why Fu Xuan didn’t reach out to Jing Yuan herself, considering she’d succeeded him at Luofu Corp. You’re not sure how negotiation from a stranger is the better option. And it would certainly have made your life easier. 

At least she’s given you a profile on him. The picture is unnecessary considering how many magazine covers the man has graced, but it’s there, and you won’t say no to looking at a pretty face. Even in his official picture, there’s a small, lazy smile on his face. He looks half-asleep, but his golden eyes are knife-sharp.

A tactician's mind, Fu Xuan said, and you believe it. 

You read through the profile carefully, taking in details large and small, trying to get a sense of the man you’re supposed to lure out of retirement. He’d retired early, barely into his fifties, and he’d only picked up a handful of projects in the last two years since, mostly charity work. You sigh, deeply jealous, and read on. 

The profile isn’t particularly helpful; to be honest, you hadn’t expected it to be. You’ll need to meet him and gauge him for yourself to see what the best avenue is.

You shrug on your coat before leaving the room, slipping past a ragtag group of children. They’re led by a little girl in a hat bigger than her head, the fuzzy flaps of it bouncing as she scuttles down the hallway, her face shining triumphantly, a mug of hot cocoa carefully balanced in her hands.

You hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, glancing between the door and the front desk. You sigh and head towards the front desk. Lee smiles at you.

“Whatcha need?” he asks.

“I’m looking for someone in town,” you say. “I was hoping you could direct me to them.”

“Sure. Who is it?”

“Jing Yuan.”

His smile shatters at the edges, a slowly spreading crack. He leans back on his heels and eyes you up and down.

“You a reporter?”

“No.”

He nods to himself. “Should have known. You look a little too corporate for that.”

You smooth down your coat self-consciously. Maybe you should have brought some more casual clothing for this trip. 

“Can you tell me where he is?” you ask.

“He’s not interested.”

“What?”

Lee shrugs, rocking back on his heels again. You think of a great pine tree swaying in the wind, bending, never breaking. “Whatever you want him for, he’s not interested.”

“How about he tells me that himself?”

“I’m sure he will,” he says. “If you can find him.”

“Which I assume you aren’t going to help with.”

“Sorry.”

You roll your eyes and stalk towards the door, wrenching it open and fleeing into the outdoors. The sun is shining but the air is frigid, the type of cold that sinks right through clothing and into your marrow. You shudder and pull up the collar of your coat to try and block the worst of the chill as you walk towards downtown. 

It’s an easy walk; you find yourself in the heart of downtown in just a few minutes. It’s just as quaint as the inn, the lampposts lining the street decorated with wreaths faintly dusted with pristine snow. You glance up at the lights strung between buildings, shimmering like the icicles they’re mimicking. 

It’s pretty, you suppose. You think people would flock here if they knew about it. Still, despite how small the town is, the streets are filled with people, some of them shouting greetings back and forth.  

You duck into the crowds and weave your way through them carefully, pausing just before a cafe. A thought occurs to you as you take a quick peek through the frosted window. You peel off your gloves, holding them in your hand as you step into Auntie’s. 

“Excuse me,” you say as one of the waitresses comes over to you, a tray balanced against her hip. “A man dropped these a block back and I thought I saw him come in here. I was hoping to return them. He was tall and had long white hair that he was wearing tied back. I think it was with a red ribbon.”

“Sounds like Jing Yuan,” she says. “You sure paid close attention to him.”

You cough, fidgeting with the leather gloves and she laughs. “Most people do,” she reassures you. You flash her a small, embarrassed smile. “He’s hard to miss, handsome as he is. I can give them to him next time I see him.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “If you know where he is, I don’t mind bringing them to him. I’m just enjoying wandering around town.”

Her eyes narrow; ice seeps into them, the slow creep of the first frost. Her grip tightens on the tray. 

You blink at her guilelessly, trying not to hold your breath. 

Her shoulders uncoil. “Sorry,” she says. “It’s just—nevermind. I haven’t seen him today. I’d check along Aurum. That’s the main street. If you don’t find him, you can come back here and I’ll give ‘em to him.”

“I’ll just check a few more shops,” you tell her. “I’m on the lookout for Christmas presents, anyway.” 

“Cutting it close, aren’t you?”

“I know, I know,” you say. “I’m so bad about it. Thank you!”

“Bye.”

You hurry out the door, flexing your fingers against the cold as you keep your gloves in your hands. The second and third store yield the same results; the fourth shop is a bust too. The locals are more protective of Jing Yuan than you’d thought. You get a suspicious look every time you describe him, and that’s without even mentioning his name. 

You step outside the fourth shop with a huff. At this point, you’re worried that someone is going to insist on keeping the gloves. There’s only so many times you can spin the same story before it bites you in the ass. Plus, your hands are freezing; the sunlight is doing little to warm the day despite the rays bathing half the street gold. 

One more store, you think. Just one more.

You groan when you see the next store is a bustling toy shop. Children tug at their parents’ hands and smudge their noses up against the windows with gap-toothed grins. They spill out of the entrance like little ants, almost tripping over themselves as they babble excitedly to their companions. They part around you like flowing water as you make your way inside.

“Excuse me,” you say to the first person wearing a nametag that you see, holding out the gloves. “A man dropped these a few blocks back. I tried to catch up but couldn’t, but I thought I saw him duck in here. Have you seen a tall man with white hair tied up with a red ribbon?” 

“Funny,” a rich voice says from behind you. “I don’t think those would fit me.” 

You freeze. 

The man peers down over your shoulder; a few strands of fluffy white hair brush against you as he examines the gloves you’re holding. He tugs one free of your slackened grip and holds it up against his hand, which dwarfs the glove. His low hum resonates through you, a honeyed drip of sound, soft and warm.

“A little small, don’t you think?” he asks.

You turn around.

Jing Yuan smiles at you, his eyes crinkling with it. There’s a wicked amusement tucked up secret in the corner of his full lips; you try not to scowl. 

You see why Fu Xuan called him a scoundrel. 

Still, there’s no way out of this. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” you say with a shrug. “And I did find you, so.” 

He chuckles. “That you did.”

“I—”

“Uncle!”

You blink as a blond blur zips past you and almost crashes into Jing Yuan. The blur turns out to be a young boy—no older than twelve—carrying a sizable sword. It’s almost as big as he is. 

“Uncle,” he says again, tugging at Jing Yuan’s sleeve. “Look what I found!”

“It’s a very nice sword, Yanqing,” Jing Yuan says, his smile softening. “But let’s wait and see what Christmas brings, hmm?”

Yanqing pouts for a moment before he glances at you. You realize he shares his uncle’s eyes, as golden as the sun. He blinks. “Are you another reporter?”

Jing Yuan leans down to be closer to his height. “Worse,” he whispers. “They’re corporate.”

The boy wrinkles his nose. 

Jing Yuan’s smile threatens to turn into a grin. “Go put the sword back, please,” he tells Yanqing, and you watch him dart off again. 

“Could I—”

“I’m afraid I’m busy,” Jing Yuan says. “And you may have heard that I retired.”

“I know, but—”

“Business has no place in a toy shop, you know.”

“That’s not what the toy seller would say.”

He tilts his head, a sliver of a smile unfurling on his lips. “I suppose so,” he says thoughtfully. “Either way, I am busy.”

“Fu Xuan sent me,” you try.

He sighs. “Yes, I had assumed.” 

“If I could just get a bit of your time—”

“Not now,” Jing Yuan says. “I’m with my family.”

“But at some point?”

“You’re at the inn, yes?”

“I am.”

“I’ll come find you tomorrow. Does that work?”

“Really?” you say and cough as he smiles, golden eyes twinkling like the ornaments decorating the toy shop. “I mean, that works. Here, here’s my card.”

He takes it; it looks tiny in his hand. He says your name, rolling it over his tongue like he’s tasting it, like it’s something to be savored. Your cheeks heat. A small smile plays across his lips. 

“Tomorrow, then,” you say.

He nods, his white hair swaying with it, like dandelion seeds caught on the wind. “Tomorrow. Come on, Yanqing.”

You start as the boy goes past you like a little darting fish, settling at his uncle’s side and tugging on his sleeve. “Can we go to the smithy?” he asks as the two of them turn to leave. “Please?”

Jing Yuan laughs, the sound rich, spilling over you like smooth chocolate. “Just to look,” he says, and they’re almost out the door when you realize—

“Wait!” you call out. “You still have my glove!”

Jing Yuan pauses and glances back, one golden eye rising like the sun over the mountain range of his shoulders. “Oh?” he asks, raising a brow. “I thought you said it was mine?”

Behind you, the employee stifles a laugh. Your cheeks burn. “I—”

He chuckles. “Here,” he says, handing it back. “I’d hate for you to be cold.” 

Then he and Yanging are out the door, leaving you standing in the middle of the bustling toy shop. You clutch at your glove; it’s still warm from his hand, like the soft heat that lingers in the hearth stones long after the fire has gone out. 

It occurs to you that you may be in over your head.

***

The feeling doesn’t go away the next day. 

“Where exactly are we going?”

Jing Yuan flashes you a smile; the edges of it curl into something smug. He’d called early and met you at the inn, coaxing you into putting your coffee in a to-go cup before shuffling you out the door with no real explanation. “Christmas tree shopping.”

“Christmas tr—I thought we were going to talk about the project!”

“We are,” he says easily, pulling into a gravel parking lot surrounded by towering, barren oaks. In the distance, you can see a grid of pines, laid out like an embroidery pattern. “But it’s Christmas.”

“It’s five days away.”

“That’s basically Christmas,” he says cheerfully. He slides from the pickup with feline grace, the flex of his thighs obvious even under the thick denim of his jeans. You stay put in the passenger seat. He raises a brow. “You don’t want to talk?”

That sends you scrambling for the passenger door. 

Jing Yuan doesn’t bother to hide the little smile that blooms on his lips, an unfurling flower. You scowl at him as you join him next to the pickup; it has no effect.

“Shall we?” he asks. 

You huff and follow him onto the tree lot. He clearly knows where he’s going, weaving through the pines with a dancer’s ease despite his size. You stop at a row of sizable trees, their blue-green needles rustling in the wind. They’re dusted in the lightest layer of snow, like frosting sugar has been sifted over them. 

You’re searching for the words to start your pitch when he hums. 

“What do you think of this one?” he asks, testing the thick branches of a plush pine, watching critically as needles scatter everywhere. It releases a waft of the sharp tang of pine. 

“It’s a tree.”

“Noted,” Jing Yuan says dryly. “Thank you for your input.” 

“I don’t understand why I’m here,” you tell him as he moves on to the next tree. “I thought we would go to your office.”

“I don’t have an office,” he says. “And the rec center needs a Christmas tree.” 

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

He glances at you. His eyes are the color of amber shot through with sunlight, a deep, rich gold. His gaze is knife-edged, a flaying thing, and it sinks beneath your skin to open you on its blade. You fidget with your sleeve.

When he smiles, it’s soft and maybe a little sad. He doesn’t say anything; he just hums again and moves to the next tree.

“Jing Yuan!”

“Keep moving,” he says. “We have to deliver the tree too, you know.” 

“We have to what?”

He laughs, loud and bright. “You heard me,” he says cheerfully. “Now come on.” 

You follow him through the rows, giving him clipped answers when he asks your opinion about a tree. Finally, after several more trees—that all looked the same to you, tall and full of pine needles—he finds one that he’s pleased with. 

He tells you to wait with the tree and disappears down the row.

When he comes back, he has an ax.

“Um,” you say. 

“Hm? Oh. It’s fine,” he says, resting the ax nearby as he ties his hair up into a high ponytail.

“Is it?”

He hefts the ax up and motions you back before swinging. He strikes true, the trunk starting to splinter under the hit, and the next one is in the exact same spot. The tree groans in protest, but Jing Yuan doesn’t pause. His powerful shoulders bunch and flex as he keeps the ax in motion with ease, though he’s beginning to pant a bit by the time he’s halfway through the trunk. Sweat glints on his brow; it dampens the edges of his hair, darkening it to the silver of the moon. 

He swings the ax again, his biceps bulging, and a crack splits the air. The tree starts to topple, falling into its neighbor, which keeps it mostly upright. Jing Yuan wipes his brow, chest heaving, and belatedly, you realize you’re staring. 

Behind you, there’s the crunch of pine needles under boots. Two men wearing name tags stride by you and clap Jing Yuan on the shoulder. They confer with him for a moment before they pick up the tree and start carrying it back towards the parking lot.  

“There,” Jing Yuan says, sounding satisfied. “We can go now.” 

“Do you often just…cut down trees?”

“Only at Christmas.”

You snort. He chuckles before gesturing you back to the parking lot. You head back and come up to the pickup just as the two men finish tying off the tree in the bed of the truck. Jing Yuan gives them firm handshakes; you pretend not to notice just how much cash is transferred between their palms. 

The two of you climb back into the truck. You have to move your briefcase in order to sit comfortably and the sight of it sets you back on track.

“You said we’d talk about the project,” you accuse.

“You didn’t say anything,” he says, putting the truck into gear. “So there wasn’t anything to talk about.”

You scowl at him. He pulls out of the parking lot; the truck trundles down the road. 

“Insufferable,” you mutter, but from the way the corner of his lips lift, he’s heard it. 

Quiet falls. The radio is crooning a soft Christmas song, but it’s faint, like an echo of the past. The heater is on, and the truck’s cab is soft with warmth, like sinking into bathwater after a long day. You lean against the window. Your breath fogs over the glass, a marine layer, and you resist the urge to draw something in the mist. 

The rec center isn’t far; you pull up to it just a few minutes later. Your phone rings just as Jing Yuan hops out of the truck.

“I need to take this,” you tell him. “It’s work.” 

He hums, something flashing across his face. It’s gone quickly, rolling by like a summer storm, and you’re already picking up the phone, your coworker’s harried voice filling your ears. 

The phone call takes a while. At one point, the truck rattles around you—a quick glance in the rearview shows a group of teen boys pulling the tree free from the truck bed, leaving a sea of needles in their wake, a forest floor brought home. Their laughter fills the air, audible even through your earbuds. You turn up the volume.

Jing Yuan shows back up just as you’re finishing your call. There’s silvery tinsel woven into his hair, barely visible except when it catches the sunlight, a lightning strike gleam. “You must be cold,” he tells you. “Come inside.”

You shake your head. “I need to go back to the inn,” you say. “I have a project that just went sideways.”

He sighs. “As you wish,” he says, and climbs back into the truck. 

You flick through your phone as he drives back to the inn, answering emails and trying your best to put out the embers of the fire that had sprung up on your project. When you reach the last one, you click your phone off and glance at Jing Yuan out of the corner of your eye.

The cold wind has nipped at his cheeks until roses bloom on his pale skin. The tinsel in his white hair shines, the full moon draped in ribbons of silvery shooting stars, and he’s beautiful in an untouchable way, a statue come to life.

Except—there’s a small, lopsided smile tucked up secret in the corner of his lips. It sweetens his mouth and adds a puckish curve; it makes him real again. It’s a contentment that you didn’t know existed, a quiet happiness that radiates from him. 

Something in your chest goes tight.

You clear your throat. He glances over at you, that tiny smile fading into something more polished. 

“Something to share?”

“The project.”

“Ah,” he says. “That.”

“Yes, that.”

“I suppose you have me trapped, don’t you.”

“For as long as the car ride,” you agree.

“Go on, then.”

You give him a basic overview, sweeping over the vast lay of the project, upselling things you’ll think he’ll care about while cutting out a few of the things you think he won’t. It’s hard to tell how it’s landing; you’re slowly realizing that Jing Yuan is a hard man to read. You suppose it makes sense, considering his years at the highest level in corporate, but it feels odd.

“I can see why Fu Xuan wants me on board,” he says as he pulls into the inn’s driveway. “And it is the type of project that appeals to me, which she knows.”

You let out a soft breath. “I don’t suppose that means you’ll come on board?”

He parks. “No,” he says.

You sigh. “I thought not. What would it take for you to come on board?”

“Don’t you think it’d be more fun to find that out yourself?”

You scowl at him, ignoring the way the corners of his lips lift. 

“No.”

Jing Yuan glances at you, his eyes gleaming, the sun come down to earth.“I'll tell you what,” he says. “Spend up until Christmas Eve with me. You can talk to me about the project until then. And if you haven’t figured it out by then, I’ll tell you exactly what will get me onto the project.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Deal,” you say, sticking out your hand. He shakes it, his grip firm. You can feel the heat of him even through your gloves. It’s soft like the early spring sun, a gentle warmth that blooms through you. 

“Not that I mind, but I will need my hand back.”

You let go immediately, snatching your hand back like you’ve been burned.

Jing Yuan smiles at you, eyes crinkling. 

“I have to go,” you say, scrambling for your briefcase. You think you hear him chuckle under his breath as you pop the door open. You don’t even say goodbye; you slam the door shut before striding off towards the inn, pretending your dignity isn’t lying in pieces. 

At the inn’s door, you can’t help yourself. You glance back.

Jing Yuan smiles and gives you a little wave.

Your cheeks go hot, a supernova burn. You retreat into the inn quickly. 

Lee calls out a greeting, but you ignore him and rush to your room. You curse Jing Yuan’s name as you boot your laptop up. Your cheeks are still warm. You scrub your hands over them as if that will help. 

Your email pings. With a sigh, you scrub at your heated cheeks one more time before you delve into your inbox. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur of phone calls and emails; by the time you look up, stomach grumbling, the sun has set, leaving behind only its reflection in the moon to lead the way. You push back from the desk and rub at your stinging eyes.

When you go downstairs to grab something to eat, the inn’s lounge is full of people. You balk, unsure, but your stomach rumbles again. You make yourself a plate and sit down at the edge of one of the crowded tables, picking away at the food as laughter fills the air around you. 

There’s a couple at the other end of your table, hands intertwined as they talk, pressing close to hear each other over the noise. The shorter woman smiles at her partner, quick and bright, a shooting star burning through the night sky, and you look away. 

Across the room, a group of teens are laughing among themselves, draped over each other casually. You watch them for a moment. They vie for the handheld console they’re playing with, passing it back and forth as they chatter excitedly.

Something cold slithers behind your ribs. It winds around the bones like ivy, sending roots down into your marrow.

You take the rest of your meal upstairs. 

***

The morning light streams through the frost on your windows, the feathered whorls of ice glittering as they cast dancing shadows on the walls. Beyond your window, the inn’s yard is full of bundled up families swooping down the slight hill in brightly colored sleighs, their whoops barely audible. 

You watch a little boy tug his father up the hill. He’s so wrapped up in layers that he’s waddling. He throws his hands up in the air as they coast down the hill, snow kicking up behind the sleigh, his father wrapping an arm around him to keep him steady. 

Someone says your name.

“Sorry,” you say, coming back to yourself and the conference call you’re on. “Could you repeat that?”

They do and you refocus, tapping away at your keyboard as you sip at your coffee. You’ve stepped back into some of your usual projects now that you’re at Jing Yuan’s whim. He’s clearly a late riser, based on the time. 

He calls when you’re on your third cup of coffee. He tells you only to meet him in front of the inn in fifteen minutes. You’re out the door in ten, stamping your feet on the inn’s porch to keep warm, tucking your chin into your coat’s collar in hopes of keeping warm. 

Jing Yuan pulls up a few minutes later. He slides from the car gracefully, looking cozy in a fleece-lined bomber jacket. You tuck your chin further into your coat collar as the wind gusts. He eyes you for a moment.

“Do you have anything warmer?”

“I brought clothes for business meetings, not whatever you have planned,” you say irritably. 

He chuckles. “Fair,” he says. “Hold on.” 

He disappears to the trunk of the car. When he comes back, he’s got a thick scarf and hat with him, the knit of them full of lumps, clearly handmade. There’s a neon bright pom-pom on the top of the hat. 

“No,” you say flatly.

He chuckles. “Alright.” 

The wind chooses that moment to gust heavily, biting through every layer to kiss frigid against your skin. “Shit,” you bite out, and when Jing Yuan holds out the hat and scarf again, you take them.

You jam the hat on your head and wind the scarf around your neck before burying your chin in it, pulling it up over your mouth and nose. When you breathe in, the air is tinged with what can only be traces of Jing Yuan’s cologne, a faint hint of warm cedar and bergamot, woodsy and bright. Beneath that, there’s a hint of smoke, of woodfire. It drapes over you like a soft, warm blanket. You resist the urge to close your eyes to breathe it in again.

“Cute,” Jing Yuan teases. You glare at him, but from the smile he gives you, it’s not very effective. You glare harder. 

“Let’s go,” he says, urging you towards the car with a gentle hand at the small of your back. You can feel the weight of it even through the thick material of your coat. When you glance at him, he’s already looking at you. He chuckles as you glance away. 

“Where are we going?” you ask as you slip into the passenger seat.

He flashes you a coy little smile. “You’ll see.”

You huff; he just smiles.

It doesn’t take you long to get back to the rec center, but you make the most of it, chattering to him about the project, trying to figure out what to highlight based on his reaction. He responds amiably, even asks a few questions, but it’s not enough. You know it’s not enough. 

When you arrive at the rec center, Jing Yuan pulls around the back of the building. Before you can even ask, the answer comes into view.

“Oh,” you breathe, cutting yourself off mid-sentence about the marketing strategy, taking in the massive skating rink. The bleachers are covered with twinkling lights and pine garlands, massive red bows dotted along them like flowers. There are lights overhead, too, dripping down like icicles. A Christmas tree sparkles in the far corner of the rink, weighed down with ornaments and topped with a shining star. 

Jing Yuan parks and you balk.

“We’re not—”

“We are,” he says cheerfully, the corners of his lips curling up into a lazy smile. 

“What does this have to do with the project?” you ask desperately. 

“Ah ah, that would be telling.”

You gape at him. He chuckles and gets out of the car; you follow him after a moment. He guides you to the skate shoe rental hut and before you realize it, you have a pair of skates on and are at the edge of the rink. You’re not even sure how he convinced you. 

Jing Yuan is already on the ice. He moves like a dancer despite his bulk, swaying over the ice like kelp in a current, rippling and beautiful. There’s something utilitarian to it too, not a single move wasted. An athlete’s precision. 

He comes close to the edge and holds out a hand to you. “Ready?” he asks.

“I know how to skate,” you snap at him. 

“Okay,” he says, skating backwards to give you enough room to kick out onto the ice. 

It takes you a minute to find your feet, skates almost skittering out from under you, but you find your balance quickly and start to skate through the rink. The ice is smooth beneath you, perfectly slick, and you pick up speed. When you glance to your right, Jing Yuan is there, keeping up with you effortlessly, a small smile unfurling across his lips.

His hair is streaming out behind him, barely tamed by the thin red ribbon holding part of it back. You think of the pelting snow of a blizzard, beautiful and dangerous, and look away just as he turns to you.

“So shy,” he says, a laugh rumbling in his chest, and you consider how much it might hurt the potential of the project if you hit him. 

“I’m hardly shy,” you tell him.

“That’s true,” he says. “I don’t think anyone shy would have claimed their gloves as mine.”

The tips of your ears go hot. “I needed to find you.”

“I’ve heard that you can ask people things.” 

“I tried. They’re protective of you, you know.” 

His smile softens, goes tender at the edges. “More protective than I deserve,” he says, so quietly it’s almost lost in the whipping wind. 

You bite at your lip. You glance at him from the corner of your eye; his smile is distant now, like the sun dipping just below the horizon.

“Jing Yuan?” you say tentatively. 

He blinks. “Hmm? Oh. Sorry.” 

You hum. “You skate well,” you say instead of the question that’s lingering on the tip of your tongue.

“So do you.”

“My mom was a skater,” you say, looping around a tottering child. “She taught me when I was little. I haven’t gone in forever, though.”

“How come?”

“Too busy.”

“Too busy working,” he says, and it’s not a question.

You think of the Instagram photos from a few weeks ago, all of your friends at a nearby rink, glowing under the lights as they pile into the frame, caught eternally in joy. The pictures of the food afterwards, of the drinks they used to warm themselves up, each one dotted with a little sprig of holly. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Too busy working.” 

He hums. 

You push yourself to skate faster. He keeps up with you smoothly, his footwork impeccable. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You glance at him; he meets your gaze steadily, his eyes the color of sunlit whisky, deep and rich. “I’m not upset,” you say. 

“Alright.” 

The two of you skate quietly for a long while, keeping an easy pace around the rink, avoiding the wobbling tots being coaxed by their steady parents. Teens spin around in circles until they’re dizzy, falling to the ice with a laugh. There’s a girl holding hands with another girl as she scrambles across the ice like a baby deer. You watch them bobble along, a little smile blossoming on your lips.

“Careful,” you hear Jing Yuan warn, and you look up just in time to see a teen boy windmilling his arms as he comes straight at you. Before you can even blink, there’s an arm around your waist, tugging you out of the way. The momentum sends you directly into Jing Yuan; he turns the two of you quickly and grunts as he hits the rink’s edge, taking the brunt of the impact. 

You end up pressed together. His arm is still slung low around your waist, holding you to him, the tips of your skates just barely touching the ground; you’ve fisted your hands in his coat to keep from falling. You can’t help but lean into the warmth of him. This close, you can smell his cologne more clearly. It’s different on his skin, the woodfire scent all but gone, while the cedar and the bright flash of citrus from the bergamot still lingers.

“You okay?” he asks, setting you down. His big hands are gentle as he steadies you, touching you as if you’re something fragile, something to be protected. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You still have your hands fisted in his jacket. You let go one finger at a time before stepping back. 

“I’m fine,” he says, straightening up. “Doubt it will even bruise.”

“Thanks,” you say. “For the save.” 

“You’re welcome. Think I’m done with skating for the day, though.”

“Me too.”

The two of you skate to the edge of the rink; Jing Yuan holds out a hand to help you from the ice. By the time you’re done returning the skates, the sun is setting, the fiery orange horizon giving way to the encroaching teeth of night. 

“I should get back,” you say. “I still have some work to do.”

Jing Yuan glances at you. His gaze is assessing, golden eyes keen, and you wonder if this is what it felt like to be under his scrutiny when he was still a CEO. If other people felt his gaze like an autopsy cut, opening you for his perusal. 

“Sure,” he says easily. “If you have to.”

“I do.”

He takes you back to the inn. Your goodbye is quiet, though he takes one last jab at how you look wearing the hat and scarf as he insists you keep them for now. 

You watch him drive off, unable to shake the feeling that somehow, you’ve disappointed him. 

You work for a while, your room quiet, before you give up in the middle of an email. You shut down your laptop and get ready for bed. 

It takes you a long time to fall asleep.

***

“Do you really get up this late?” you ask, checking your watch as Jing Yuan climbs out of his car. 

“No,” he says, sounding amused. “Do I give that impression?”

“They literally called you the Dozing CEO.” 

“There are worse things to be.”

“That’s true,” you say thoughtfully. “Anyway, I wanted to talk about the second stage of the pro—”

“Later,” Jing Yuan says. “Right now it’s time for coffee. Let’s go to Auntie’s.” 

The snow crunches under your boots as the two of you walk into town. The crowd is even bigger today, filling the streets. There’s a band at one end of Aurum, the musicians bundled up as they play lively Christmas music. They take a request from a passing child and they clap in delight as the band starts to play. 

“Is it always like this?” you ask.

Jing Yuan nods. “The holidays are a big deal around here,” he says, holding the door to Auntie’s open for you. “It’s a close-knit community.”

He greets the hostess by name and asks about her family; she chatters familiarly with him as she leads the two of you to a booth.

“I can tell,” you say once she’s left. “Is that why you came here?”

He pauses. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine,” he says, giving you a little smile. It’s soft, that smile, and sweet at the edges. Your cheeks heat a bit. “But yes, that’s a large part of it. That and I wanted to be out of the city.” 

“Really? I thought you loved the city.”

He tilts his head in question.

You cough. “Most of the profiles I’ve read say you like the city.” 

“When I was younger,” he says. “But now, I find the quiet suits me.”

The waitress comes by with a coffee for him; he thanks her kindly before returning his attention to you. 

“The quiet here has been nice,” you admit.

“Would you ever leave the city?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I’ve been there for almost twenty years now. I moved there when I was eighteen. Besides, that’s where my job is.”

He hums lightly. “So it is.” 

“Speaking of—”

He sighs, cupping his coffee between his big hands to warm them. “Go ahead,” he says. “I said I’d listen.” 

You launch into the second phase of the project, outlining the plans and how they’d be executed, as well as what his backing and involvement might look like. Jing Yuan drinks his coffee as he listens, only pausing you once so he can ask the waitress a question. 

You wind down and he smiles at you. “You’re very convincing,” he tells you. “I can see how you got Feixiao to come on board for the last project that Luofu did.” 

“But—” you say, knowing what’s coming.

“But I’m not sold.” 

“Of course you aren’t,” you grumble under your breath. Jing Yuan breathes out a laugh and your face goes hot. “Sorry,” you say. “I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine.” 

“You’re very tolerant.”

“Am I?”

“You know you are.” 

He chuckles. “I suppose I am,” he says. “Retirement has taken much of the bite out of me, I’m afraid. Though I don’t consider that a bad thing.” 

“It’s not.” 

He rests his chin on his palm, gazing at you from under his long lashes. Only one of his eyes is visible; the other is behind the silver of his hair, a sun hidden by clouds. His eye is heavily lidded, but his gaze is as keen as ever. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.” 

“Right,” you say, flustered and unsure why. “Me too.” 

“I find the best part of retirement is the softness,” he says. “It gives you room to be gentle. With yourself. With others.”

“You sound like a self-help book.”

“I do meditate quite often,” he says, eyes crinkling with his smile. “I would recommend it.” 

“I don’t have time to meditate.”

“All the more reason to find some time for it,” he says mildly, taking another sip of his coffee. A droplet clings to his lower lip; he catches it with his thumb before licking his thumb clean. You almost choke on air.

“Are you alright?” he asks, a coy smile unfurling on his lips. 

“F-fine.” 

That smile grows larger, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Alright. Let’s have a late breakfast, shall we?”

“Okay.”

The food comes quickly, filling the air with the scent of crisp bacon and the sharp, woody tang of rosemary. The eggs melt on your tongue, perfectly fluffy, and Jing Yuan smiles when you let out a pleased sigh.

“Good?”

You nod eagerly, taking another bite.

“Good.” 

You’re both quiet as you eat; when it comes time to pay, Jing Yuan doesn’t even let you reach for the bill, simply handing the waitress his card with a flick of his wrist. His playful glare silences you before you can even protest. 

When you stand to leave, he gestures you in front of him. He follows you out the door of Auntie’s and the two of you stop under the awning—hung with crystalline stars that catch the sunlight as they sway in the wind—to stay out of the way of the crowds. 

“Walk with me,” he says, tugging lightly at the end of your (his) scarf. 

“Okay.”

The two of you thread through the crowds; eventually, they thin out and you settle beside each other. You take in the quieter part of town, still Christmas ready, with fake candles flickering in the windows of the offices and thick wreaths adorning the doors. 

“Pretty,” you say absentmindedly, toying with a ribbon as you pass, the material velvety under your fingertips. 

“Yes,” Jing Yuan says, sounding fond, and he’s already looking at you when you glance at him. “Come along, we’re almost there.”

“Where?” you ask, but you round the corner and the answer is there.

The park is beautiful, even barren, with the tree’s empty branches reaching towards the yawning sky. A light dusting of snow covers the ground, though it’s turned to slush on the paths. You and Jing Yuan pick your way around the worst of the melt, until you find a massive gazebo. 

It’s a sight. It’s draped in garlands, each dotted with sprigs of holly and bright little lights that flash like shooting stars. Poinsettias line the gazebo, their stamen golden starfish amid the sea of crimson. 

“Wow,” you say. 

“It’s my favorite place in the park,” Jing Yuan says. “Though it’s normally a bit more subdued.”

“I would hope so.” 

“But it’s not what we’re here for.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he says, resting his hand on the small of your back and guiding you forward. “Let’s keep going.” 

You talk quietly as you wander through the park until you suddenly notice there are a lot more people than there were before. Before you know it, you’re in a line. You look at Jing Yuan, but he simply smiles.

“No,” you say as the horse-pulled sleighs come into view.

“That’s what you said about skating, too.” 

“Why is this town so into Christmas?”

“Why not?”

You sigh and let him guide you forward, abruptly aware that his hand is still at the small of your back. The weight of it prickles along your skin. He gives you a light push towards the front of the line. 

The sleigh that pulls up in front of you is large. It’s decked out in garlands and holly, filled with soft, fuzzy blankets that look like they would keep you warm on even the coldest nights. The mare in front of it nickers, her tail flicking from side to side. 

Jing Yuan slides into the sleigh with feline ease, though he’s broad enough to take up most of it himself. You hesitate.

He chuckles, patting the spot next to him on the bench. “Indulge me,” he says.

You sigh and slide in before sitting down. You immediately regret it. “It’s cold,” you whine, the chill seeping through your pants, but he simply tosses one of the blankets over you and tucks it in at the side, blocking out any chilly air. 

“There,” he says. “Ready?”

“Okay,” you say, and the driver flicks her reins, sending the mare into a trot. The sleigh starts to slide forward and you grab onto Jing Yuan’s arm without thinking, sinking your fingertips into the muscle of his forearm. 

He chuckles again and pats your hand. “You’ll get used to it,” he tells you. 

“And if I don’t?”

“You can always keep holding on to me.” 

You immediately let go. 

He gives you an indolent smile. His eyes crinkle with it, and you want to curse him for being so handsome. Instead, you huff and bury yourself deeper under the blanket, which has slowly been heating.

“I could be working,” you mutter.

“Would you rather be?”

You blink, not having expected Jing Yuan to be listening to you that closely. “I—It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.” 

“I just—it’s what I’m good at,” you say, and it sounds like a question even to your own ears. “I’m a good worker. A hard worker. I don’t really have much else to offer, so it makes sense to work all the time.”

“I think you’re underestimating yourself.”

“What?”

“You have much more to offer than just work,” he says gently. 

“I really don’t,” you say miserably. “I barely see my friends and I worry about overwhelming them, and my family is just—”

You pause. “And I also just said all of this to you, basically a stranger and also who I’m supposed to be recruiting, so this is just embarrassing now. Goodbye.” 

He catches you by the wrist as you start to throw the blanket off and try to wiggle away from his side.

“And here I thought we were more than strangers by now. I’m a little hurt.”

“Jing Yuan!”

“Alright, alright,” he says. “But it’s okay. I’m here to listen if you want.” 

“I don’t,” you say, refusing to look at him as he reaches over you to tuck the blanket back in around you. “Just forget I said anything.”

Silence falls, broken only by the steady trot of the mare and the soft jingling of the bells you hadn’t noticed on her bridle. 

“That’s part of why I retired, you know.”

You glance at Jing Yuan out of the corner of your eye. He’s staring off into the snowy treeline, his golden eyes hazed over, the sun under morning mist. “I wanted to be good at something other than work. And I wasn’t.” 

“That’s not true,” you say softly. “You and your friends—”

“Fell apart,” he says, and you subside. You know just as much about the group of company heads deemed The Quintet as anyone does, which is to say that you only know of their end. Their exploits, their dreams, all overshadowed. Companies—people—that rose into the sky and then fell, burning up in the atmosphere until they were meteors, destined to crash. 

Jing Yuan, barely out of his twenties, was the only one left standing.

“I put in years of work to try and get everything right again,” he says. “To acquire their companies and do right by them. I did it, too. And then I stayed. Because I was good at it. Because I didn’t know what else to do.” 

You chew on your lip before throwing caution to the wind. You rest your hand on his forearm and don’t move when he jolts. His eyes cut towards you, burnished amber, and the sharp edges of him soften. 

“You’re more than just work,” he says. “I can promise you that.” 

“Okay,” you say softly, because what else is there to say? “Okay.”

The both of you are quiet for a few minutes. You chew on everything that’s been said, careful not to sink your teeth into the meat of it. You’ll leave that for later, preferably in the dark of your own apartment. Next to you, Jing Yuan seems perfectly at ease, and not for the first time, you’re jealous of his composure. 

“Look,” he says suddenly, nudging you gently. He points to where the park meets true forest, where the saplings grow teeth. “Rabbits.”

“Where?” you say, leaning around him to try and see it. “I don’t see anything.” 

“Here,” he says, and suddenly you’re encased in warmth, his arms wrapped around you as he points. You peer down the line of one bulky arm and finally see a family of hares in the underbrush, their downy fur as white as the snow that surrounds them. 

“How did you even see them?” you breathe, watching as one of them noses at another, who shifts back into the brush. “They’re beautiful.” 

“They are,” he says.

The horse nickers and the hares freeze before darting off deeper into the underbrush. You watch until you can’t see them anymore. You settle back before realizing you’re almost in Jing Yuan’s lap, his strong arms still wrapped around you. He’s warm against you, his chest firm despite the slight softness around his middle, and you can feel his voice rumble through you as he asks the driver a question, one you can’t quite make out through the static in your ears. 

You push away quickly, settling on the far side of the sleigh. It doesn’t do much, considering his size, but at least you’re further away from him. Hopefully without alerting him to anything.

From the puckish curl of his lips, that hope is dashed. Still, he says nothing, continuing to talk with the driver as you stare out the side of the sleigh, huddling under the blanket now that you’re bereft of his warmth.

After he’s spoken to the driver, he turns back to you, that same little smile blooming on his lips, an unfurling flower. You brace yourself. 

“If you’re cold, the ride’s almost over,” he says. “And then I assume you need to go back to work?”

You almost say yes. You almost take the out he’s given you, but you look at him instead, at the way his expression crinkles his eyes and the way his aureate gaze has softened. You look at Jing Yuan and something behind your ribcage writhes, battering against the bones.

“No,” you say quietly. “I think I still have more time.”

He smiles.

***

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in the park, meandering through the expanse of it and chatting the whole time. You only turn back towards the inn when it starts snowing, a light fall of fat, fluffy flakes. They catch in Jing Yuan’s lashes when he turns his face up to the sky, his white hair cascading behind him, a river of starlight. 

He’s beautiful. You’d known that before, of course—the man was a staple on magazine covers for a reason—but like this, it’s a different type of beauty. You wish you had words for it. Instead, you content yourself with watching him.

He cracks open an eye and sees you looking. “You’re staring,” he says, a small, sly smile blooming on his lips. “Something on my face?”

“Snow,” you say dryly. “You’re going to catch a cold.” 

“Ah, so you do care.”

“Maybe,” you say, and relish the fleeting look of surprise that he can’t quite hide. It’s gone as soon as it came, replaced by his usual small smile, but you think there’s a pleased edge to it. “Now hurry up, it’s cold.” 

He lifts his face to the sky for a moment more, letting a few more flakes drift down onto him. You wait for him. You’re cold even with the hat and scarf, but he looks so content that you can’t bear to drag him away. 

Finally, he strides to your side. The two of you head back into town, taking a route that extends the walk. You chat quietly for a majority of the time, though sometimes you lapse into a comfortable silence, simply watching the snow fall. 

He insists on accompanying you all the way to the inn’s doorstep, citing the icy path. You roll your eyes but don’t argue; his smile makes something in your chest twist. 

“Thanks,” you say at the doorstep. 

“For?”

“Everything,” you say, a little bit helpless.

He smiles again, gentle like the spring sun, and then says: “I’d like to take you to the house tomorrow.”

“The house? Whose?” 

“Mine.”

“Oh,” you say.

“Only if you’re okay with it.” 

“You haven’t murdered me yet.” 

“True,” he says, that same little smile unfurling on his lips. “There’s still time, though.”

“Jing Yuan!”

He laughs, low and rich, more a vibration than a sound, as close together as you are. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah,” you say. “See you then.”

“Goodnight,” he says. But he stays until you give him a tiny shove. 

You go to sleep with a smile lingering sweet on your lips.

***

It’s still snowing the next morning. The flakes fall delicately, dusting over the trees like icing sugar, coating the inn like a soft blanket. You watch it as you sip your coffee. It’s slow and steady, like a snowglobe settling after a flurry. 

You can tell when Jing Yuan pulls up; your phone vibrates on top of your closed laptop. You gulp down the rest of your coffee before throwing on your coat. The walk from the inn to his car is short but cold. You shiver as you slip into the warmth of the car; he reaches over and tugs your hat down a little more firmly.

“Thanks,” you say. “Definitely couldn’t have done that myself.”

“You’re welcome,” he says cheerfully. “Let’s go.” 

The drive to his house is longer than you thought. It’s on the far outskirts of town, set back into a grove of pine trees, not at all the modern manor you’d thought it would be. It’s still large, but there’s a modesty to it that fits him.

He pulls into the garage and leads you inside, where you immediately hear running footsteps. Jing Yuan smiles as Yanqing rounds the corner, all but throwing himself at his uncle.

“You took forever,” he complains.

“I had to go pick up my friend here,” Jing Yuan says, patting the boy on the head. “We can get started now, though.”

Yanqing peers at you. “Are they helping?”

“Helping with what?” you ask, shrugging out of your jacket at Jing Yuan’s gesture. 

“Gingerbread, duh.” 

“Oh, um—”

“They’re helping,” Jing Yuan says smoothly, ushering you forward into what you quickly realize is the biggest kitchen you’ve ever seen, filled to the brim with sleek kitchenware. There’s already ingredients laid out on the kitchen counter, perfectly arranged.

“I’m afraid to touch anything in your kitchen,” you say. 

He laughs, rolling up the sleeves of his dark red sweater. You watch his forearms flex, the muscle rippling beneath his skin, the tendons in his hands cording. 

“Don’t be,” he says. “Now let’s get started before Yanqing eats all the chocolate chips.”

Yanqing pauses with another handful of chocolate chips almost to his mouth. He gazes at his uncle for a moment and then defiantly pops it into his mouth. Jing Yuan sighs, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

The boy chatters at the two of you as you measure out the ingredients for gingerbread, though he mostly speaks to Jing Yuan. For his part, Jing Yuan listens intently, paying as much attention to Yanqing as he would to any adult. He nods seriously when Yanqing complains about something that happened at school.

“And then they took away my sword—”

“Wait,” you say, stopping in the middle of mixing. “Sword?”

Yanqing stares at you. “Yeah. My sword.”

You look at Jing Yuan, who laughs. “He’s a fencing champion,” he explains.

“I’m the best in the region,” Yanqing informs you, his chest puffed up. “But one day I’ll beat Uncle.” 

You start mixing again. Jing Yuan is a former champion—that has been detailed in almost every magazine he’s ever interviewed with. With good reason, too. You’ve seen the photos of him in his fencing gear, his face mask by his side, his strong thighs outlined by the uniform. He’d been sweaty and smiling broadly, his senior Jingliu at his side, her lips pressed together sternly but her eyes gleaming. 

“Ah, this old man can’t keep up with you anymore,” Jing Yuan says, ruffling Yanqing’s hair. 

“Liar,” the boy grumbles. 

Jing Yuan laughs again. “That looks ready,” he says to you. “Yanqing, do you want to roll it out?”

“Nope.” He’s already sorting through the candy that’s on the other counter, unwrapping various ones. “I’m picking decorations.” 

“It’s up to you, then,” Jing Yuan says to you with a little smile.

“I don’t see you doing very much work,” you say. He’s leaning against the counter, looking half-asleep. 

“I’m supervising.”

You point your spatula at him. “You dragged me here. Come help.”

“Of course,” he says, pushing off the countertop. He pauses to stretch, reaching high, just enough for his sweater to reveal a slice of his belly and the tiniest hint of silvery hair. You almost drop the spatula. He grabs it before you can, a smug little smirk playing across his lips. 

But he doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to lightly flour the countertop and dump the gingerbread dough onto it. He flours the rolling pin as well, his big hand easily reaching around the fullest part of the thick pin. When he starts to roll it out, his hands and forearms flex with each motion, the veins protruding slightly from beneath his skin. 

You decide it’s better for you to look at something else. You focus on Yanqing, who is humming happily to himself as he picks out varying decorations. 

“Those would make good pine trees,” you say, pointing to the waffle cones. 

He eyes you. “How?”

“Like this,” you say, flipping them over so the mouth of the cone is against the counter. “And then you pipe on icing to make it look like a tree.”

He deliberates for a moment. “We can try it,” he allows.

“Okay.” 

He slips away to another counter that’s got piping bags and tips laid out all over it, along with several different colors of icing. You glance at Jing Yuan. “You really have everything, don’t you?”

He smiles, cutting out a few shapes from the rolled out dough. “Not everything,” he says. “But I do try to stay stocked for gingerbread house day.” 

“Do you do it every year?”

“Yup,” Yanqing says, sliding in next to you. “Since I was little.” He concentrates on the piping bag for a moment, pressing the tip down until it’s at the bottom of the bag and then grabbing a glass and pulling the edges of the bag over the edges of the glass. It holds it nicely and he starts to pile icing in.

“I can tell,” you say, watching his careful precision. He doesn’t reply, too busy piping on the first bit of icing. 

There’s a blast of heat at your back as Jing Yuan opens the oven to put the gingerbread pieces in. The pan clinks against the rack and then the heat at your back is softer, a gentle warmth instead. Jing Yuan leans over you to see what Yanqing is doing, his long white hair draping over your shoulder, a waterfall of moonlight.

“Clever,” he says. 

“Pretty sure I read it in a magazine.”

He hums. “Still clever.” 

“I guess.”

“Look!” Yanqing says. “It looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Very good,” Jing Yuan says, and he’s not lying. Yanqing has an eye for details, swirling the piping to achieve a needle-like texture in the deep green icing. “Now you can put ornaments on it.” 

“Yeah!”

You watch him fish through the varying candies to find a handful of circular red and gold ones, which he starts pushing into place in the icing. He works diligently, setting them into patterns, but you’re distracted by the heat of Jing Yuan against your back. He shifts behind you and your fingers flex.

The timer saves you. Jing Yuan pulls away as it dings; you hear the oven open and close again as he sets the gingerbread on racks to cool.

“Make one,” Yanqing says suddenly, shoving a waffle cone into your hands. “We need more for the forest.” 

“Is there going to be a forest?” Jing Yuan asks mildly. “I thought we were making a house.” 

“We can do both!”

 “I see.” 

The three of you work on trees as the gingerbread cools. Yanqing chatters away, telling you all about his most recent bout and what he asked for for Christmas. It’s cute, really, watching him and Jing Yuan interact, his hero worship obvious even from such a short amount of time.

You’ve just put the finishing touch—a silver gummy star—on top of a tree when the doorbell rings. Jing Yuan pushes to his feet with a groan and goes to answer it.

When you look up from your tree, Yanqing is staring at you.

“Uncle doesn’t usually bring corporate people to the house,” Yanqing says. “So how come you’re here?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “You’ll have to ask him.”

Yanqing’s gaze isn’t quite as knowing as his uncle’s, but it’s gutting in its own way. “I think it’s because you’re sad,” he tells you. 

“I’m not sad!”

“Okay,” he says in the way that pre-teens do. “Lonely, then.”

He grins in triumph when you can’t refute that. Then his brow furrows. “I think he’s lonely too,” he confesses. “He doesn’t want to say it, though. But he is.” 

Your stomach twists.

“Yanqing—”

He glares at you. “He is!”

“I’m not saying he isn’t,” you say softly. “I just don’t think you should be talking about it with me.” 

“But you understand!”

You sigh. “Yanqing,” you say. “If Jing Yuan wants me to know something, he’ll tell me himself, okay?”

“No he won’t,” he mutters.

“That’s his choice.”

His brow furrows; his lips twist, a sour lemon kiss. “Fine,” he says.

You bite at your lip but he doesn’t say anything else. “Let’s build the house?” you offer. 

“We have to wait for Uncle.” 

“What’s he doing?”

“Delivery, probably.” 

That certainly explains the scuffing noises that have been coming from the hallway. Before you can go investigate, though, Jing Yuan reappears.

“Did I miss much?” he asks, before looking at the still dismantled house. “Oh, you didn’t start.”

“We were waiting for you,” Yanqing says.

“Oh? So considerate.” 

“Let’s build already!” Yanqing says, practically bouncing in place. “Uncle, c’mon!”

Jing Yuan laughs and joins the two of you at the counter, looking down at the pieces of the gingerbread house. “Yes sir,” he says. “Where do you want to start?”

“Here!” 

It takes several tries to even get two of the walls to stick together. Yanqing makes you and Jing Yuan hold them together as he pipes in royal icing to be the glue; the two of you crowd together on one side of the counter to try and keep them upright. This close, you can feel how thick Jing Yuan’s bicep is as his arm presses against yours, courtesy of his broad shoulders. 

Finally, the icing sets. When you and Jing Yuan pull away, the walls stay standing, earning a cheer from Yanqing. He immediately picks up the next wall, gesturing for Jing Yuan to hold it in place. You take advantage of your moment of respite to pull up one of the kitchen stools, nestling into the plush of it. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Jing Yuan warns. “We’ll be putting you right back to work.” 

“Yeah,” Yanqing says. “You’ve gotta hold the next wall while the other one sets.” 

“Okay, okay,” you say, reaching for the next piece of gingerbread. You set it in place, holding it carefully, bracing the corner of it with your fingertips and the side of it with your other hand. Yanqing ices it quickly, and you wince as he manages to get a good amount of icing onto your fingertips. 

“Oops,” he says, looking abashed but not sounding particularly sorry.

“It’s fine,” you say, lifting your fingers away from the join of the walls, still bracing the wall itself with your other hand. You pop your fingertips into your mouth one-by-one without thinking, the sweetness spreading across your tongue rapidly, the sheer amount of sugar enough to make your teeth ache. 

Jing Yuan coughs. 

When you look at him, he’s already gazing at you, his eyes darkened to topaz, a deep, rich golden brown. For a second, his lazy smile goes knife-edged, something hungry tucked up into the corner of his mouth, but it’s gone when you blink, only a faint amusement remaining. 

“There’s a sink if you would find that more useful,” he says, nodding towards the farmhouse sink just behind you. “Though far be it from me to stop you.”

Your cheeks heat. You wait a moment, letting Yanqing take the brunt of the gingerbread wall before you pull away. You wash your hands as the two of them chat behind you, the water burning hot as you try to compose yourself. 

The little smirk Jing Yuan sends you when you turn around doesn’t help. 

You take in a deep breath before rejoining them, taking the final wall and putting it into place. The three of you continue building, chatting the whole time. Yanqing’s delight is infectious and you find yourself laughing with every mishap and quietly cheering each time a wall stays up. The roof is the most precarious part; it takes the three of you several tries to get it situated. 

“Now it just has to fully dry,” Yanqing announces. “Then we can decorate.”

“And in the meantime?” you ask. 

“I’m going to my room!” he says, taking off down the hallway. You blink and glance at Jing Yuan.

“He means he’s going to snoop under the Christmas tree,” he says. 

“Oh.” 

“He thinks he’s sneakier than he is.”

“Don’t all kids? Besides, didn’t you peek under the tree when you were a kid?” 

“I would never,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Who do you think I am?”

“The type to sneak under the tree. I bet you shook boxes and everything.”

He chuckles. “I stopped after I accidentally broke one of the presents doing that.” 

“You didn’t!”

“I’m afraid so.” 

You laugh, the sound bubbling from you like a spill of champagne. “Oh my god.” 

Jing Yuan smiles, his eyes crinkling with it. “Don’t tell me you never shook the presents.”

“Of course I did. I just never broke anything.”

He hums. “Of course not.”

“Why do you sound like you don’t believe me?”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“You’re so annoying.”

He smiles, popping a candy into his mouth. You watch the way he licks the residue of it off of his lips. “Now, now, be nice.” 

You pick up a candy too. It’s watermelon, the taste bursting over your tongue, stickily artificial. “Are we spending all day on a gingerbread house?” you ask. 

“There’s a Christmas market that I’d intended to go to.” 

You hum. “Alright.”

“No need to sound so excited about it.” 

“Excited about what?” Yanqing says, flouncing into the room. He’s pink-cheeked and looking pleased with himself. You assume the present shaking went well. 

“The Christmas fair.”

The boy’s face lights up. “We’re going, right? Right?”

“Yes,” Jing Yuan says. “After we finish decorating.” 

“Is the icing dry yet?”

You test the gingerbread house carefully, seeing how well the walls and roof hold up. They don’t move under your gentle prodding nor when you apply a bit more pressure.

“I think so,” you say. “Let’s decorate.”

The three of you set to work. You and Jing Yuan mostly follow Yanqing’s direction; you build a chimney out of non-pareils, the uneven sides like trendy stone work. The fir trees are sprinkled around the yard, each one more decorated than the last; the shingles to the roof are made of gingerbread too, carefully cut into a scalloped edge. The very top of the roof is lined with gumdrops, the rainbow of them like Christmas lights. Chocolate stones make the pathway to the house; the path is lined with little licorice lamps. 

Altogether, it’s probably the fanciest gingerbread house you’ve seen. Granted, Jing Yuan had clearly gone all out on different types of candy—so many types that you barely use half of them—but Yanqing’s eye for detail makes it all come together. 

“Wow,” you say, putting a final star-shaped sprinkle in place over one of the windows, where it joins a line of others, a draping of fake Christmas lights. “This is really good, Yanqing.”

The boy puffs up. “I’ve won my school’s decorating contest before,” he says.

“I can see why.” 

He beams and then turns to Jing Yuan. “When are we going to the market?” he asks.

“After we clean up.” 

A pout creases his face for a moment, his lips turning down in an admittedly endearing way. “Fine,” he sighs, looking at the messy counter. You’d tried to keep the mess to a minimum, but between icing and sugar-dusted candies, you hadn’t quite succeeded. As Jing Yuan and Yanqing start to sort the candies and put them away, you start scraping up the dried-on icing. 

For a moment, you think Jing Yuan is going to protest, but when you flash him a little stare that dares him too, he subsides without saying a word. You grin triumphantly and he smiles, soft and sweet. Something in you twinges. 

You push the little flutter aside, wetting a paper towel to scrub off the worst of the icing. The three of you work away, chatting lightly, until the kitchen is almost as pristine as when you got there.

“That’s good enough for now,” Jing Yuan says, taking in the kitchen with a critical eye. “We’ll get the candy in the pantry later.” 

Yanqing perks up. “Christmas market?” he asks.

Jing Yuan nods, a fond little smile unfurling across his lips. “Go change your shirt.” 

Yanqing looks down at his shirt, which is spattered with icing from when he got a little overenthusiastic with the piping bag. “Okay!” he says, running off. 

You head to the sink to wash your hands again; they’re sticky with leftover icing. Jing Yuan meets you there with a dish towel to dry your hands. His fingertips linger over your palm as he hands it to you. You take in a soft breath, but the touch is gone as soon as it comes.

Yanqing returns and the three of you bundle up—apparently the market is an outdoor one. Jing Yuan fixes Yanqing’s hat despite the boy batting his hands away. Then he turns to you and tugs at the end of your scarf. 

“Ready?” 

You nod. The three of you pile into one of Jing Yuan’s cars. The ride is mostly quiet, with Yanqing and Jing Yuan chatting here and there, but you’re busy looking out the window at the rolling countryside. It’s picturesque in a way no painting could ever capture, the trees lit golden by the setting sun, the snow glittering like stars as it sits heavy on their branches. The firs bend under its weight while the bare oaks soar into the sky, as if they’re painted in long, sweet strokes. 

You pull into a stuffed parking lot. You shiver as you get out of the warm car, burying your chin into the scarf as your breath puffs out in a gentle mist. 

The fair is stunning, little stalls lining the closed-off street, each decorated in its own way. Each of them is festooned with lights and garlands, with little stockings hung carefully from the tables. There’s a baker with bread shaped like wreaths, the crust of them perfectly golden-brown, tucked into star-patterned cloth; a weaver with stunning blankets with complex designs; a blacksmith with all sorts of metalwork, each more beautiful than the last. And those are just the first few stalls.

“Wow,” you breathe.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Jing Yuan asks. “I hear it’s grown through the years. It seems to get bigger every year.”

“I’m surprised this place isn’t known as a Christmas destination.”

“It is,” he says. “If you know the right people to ask.”

“How did you find it?”

“A friend,” he says, and there’s something in the set of his mouth that keeps you from asking more. “Come on, let’s go take a look.”

“I want to go to the blacksmith!” Yanqing pipes up.

“Go ahead,” Jing Yuan says. “Don’t go far, please.”

“Okay!”

The two of you watch him take off into the crowd, his golden crown of hair bobbing along, dodging adults and other children alike. Jing Yuan sighs, shaking his head, but gestures you along to the first stall. 

You linger over some textiles, including a beautiful tablecloth embroidered heavily with holly, each sprig carefully woven to look as real as possible. You can tell that love was stitched into it, and going by the stall owner’s gnarled fingers, she’s been doing it for a long time. 

“It’s beautiful,” you tell her, stroking your finger over a holly leaf. She smiles and starts to tell you about her process; you listen intently, Jing Yuan lingering patiently at your side. 

When you finally move to the next stall, someone calls Jing Yuan’s name. He smiles as they approach. They chat amiably for a few minutes before he excuses himself. 

As you wander through the market, you notice that it’s a pattern. Multiple people come up to Jing Yuan, all full of smiles and good cheer, talking to him like he’s an old friend. Some of them eye you curiously, but just nod your way when you’re introduced, going back to catching up with some news they’ve heard or thanking Jing Yuan for a favor he’s done.

“You’re popular,” you tell him as you both step into another stall, this one filled with ornaments. They shine brightly under the twinkling fairy lights strung over the stall’s top. 

“Am I?”

“Mhm.” 

He hums, picking up a snowglobe ornament and giving it a little shake. You watch the fake snow settle at the bottom, revealing the little girl building a snowman, her figure exquisitely made. “They’ve been very welcoming since I’ve moved here,” he says. “I’ve been lucky.” 

“I think it’s more than luck,” you say quietly. “I think you give as much as you get.”

He flashes you a little smile. “Maybe so.” 

The two of you continue on before someone stops Jing Yuan again, this time near a stall that’s too full for the three of you to step into. You do your best to shift out of the way of the people making their way through the market, but it’s hard to do so with so little room. 

You’ve just been knocked into when Jing Yuan loops an arm around your waist and tugs you into his side. It pulls you out of the line of fire for the crowds filtering by. He’s a line of heat against you and you feel it when he chuckles, the sound rumbling through you. 

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod, cheeks hot. 

“Good,” he says, and leaves his big hand high on your hip, keeping you close. He goes back to amiably talking to the other person as if he hasn’t noticed. If you lean into him, just slightly, no one but you needs to know. You peer at him from the corner of your eye. You take him in, from the moonlight spill of his hair to his sunrise eyes, to the little smile on his lips as he chats away.

He belongs, you realize, watching him slot back into his conversation with ease. He’s a part of the town, and based on how many people have come up to him, an important one. You think of the way the locals had eyed you when you’d been asking about him. It makes sense now. The town protects him as one of their own because he is one. And he’s happy, a subtle glow to him, a type you’ve rarely seen and likely never achieved yourself. 

Something in your chest squirms, fluttering against the bones of your ribcage, trying to slip through the gaps. You resist the urge to press a hand to your chest. 

He pulls away from the conversation a few minutes later, the hand on your hip dropping to the small of your back as he guides you forward. He stops to talk to a few more people, his eyes crinkling with his smile each time as they come up to him. It’s mesmerizing to watch. 

And you’re asking him to give it all up.

Not all of it, you remind yourself. It’s a project, not a job, but something in you winces nonetheless. Your chest tightens, like a ribbon wrapped around it is cinching in. 

Jing Yuan glances at you as you step away from his warmth, his hand falling from where it’s been resting on the small of your back. His brow furrows, but it passes quickly, a guttering candle. 

You keep your distance for the rest of the fair. You’re still close enough to almost touch despite the thinning crowds, but the gap feels like a gulf between you, as if you’re oceans away. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” you say, but from the way Jing Yuan eyes you, he doesn’t quite believe you. He opens his mouth, but you’re saved by Yanqing, who runs up with sparkling eyes.

“Uncle!” he says. “The blacksmith says we can go to the forge and watch him!”

Jing Yuan chuckles. “Did you badger him into it?”

“No!”

“Alright, alright. We’ll set up a time with him later, okay?”

Yanqing pouts but nods. You hide your smile behind your scarf. 

“Let’s go home,” Jing Yuan says. Night has fallen, the sky velvety and dotted with stars. He glances at you. “Would you like me to drop you at the inn?”

You nod. He hums. “Alright.”

The three of you pile back into the car. The inn isn’t far—you probably could have walked, but the cold night has only gotten more frigid. Jing Yuan comes up to the inn’s doorstep with you, catching you by the wrist when you’re halfway up the stairs. You turn around and he looks up at you, his golden eyes shining under the moonlight. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and it takes a moment to gather yourself, too focused on the way his thumb is rubbing small circles on the delicate skin of your inner wrist. You realize you’re leaning towards him, a flower to the sun. He smiles at you, eyes crinkling, and you see it again, that soft glow to him. 

Something clicks into place. 

“Nothing will make you come on board the project, will it?” you ask, sounding too calm even to your own ears. You shake off his hand. “There’s never even been the slightest chance.” 

Jing Yuan lets out a low, slow breath. “No,” he says. “There hasn’t been.” 

“Right,” you say. “Okay. Thank you for everything.”

“What?”

“My job is done,” you say. “If I can’t convince you, there’s no point in me being here.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” you say. Your chest hurts. Something sinks its teeth into your ribs, chipping away at the bone. “I came here to get you on board.”

“That’s not what the last day or two has been,” he says softly. “Right?”

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

He reaches for you, brushing his gloved fingers against your cheek. “Yes, you do.” 

You pull away. “I’ve been here to get you on board, Jing Yuan. To do my job. That’s all.” 

“You—”

“I’ll catch a flight tomorrow,” you say. “It shouldn’t be hard, since it’s Christmas Eve.” 

He lets out a low, slow breath. He gazes up at you, his golden eyes flickering with something you don’t dare name. 

“Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“It’s time for me to go,” you say. “It’s been time for me to go since I got here, apparently.” 

He says your name softly. It rolls over you like morning mist, blocks out the world. You take in a shuddering breath.

“Goodbye, Jing Yuan.”

He sighs. “If you change your mind, I’m having a Christmas party tomorrow. You’ll always be welcome.” 

You nod sharply, turning on your heel to go inside. Jing Yuan says your name again. You glance over your shoulder. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. And then—

“Travel safe,” he says.

“Thanks,” you say, and then you’re inside the inn, leaving Jing Yuan standing out in the cold behind you. You don’t wait to see if he lingers, ignoring Lee’s cheerful greeting to make your way back up to your room. 

You book the first flight you find. It’s late in the day, but that’s fine—you can catch up with your emails and calls. You’ve barely checked your phone today. You can’t quite bring yourself to do it now.

After your flight is booked, you close your laptop and fold your arms, resting your head on them. The fangs sunk into your rib bones dig deeper, hitting marrow. 

“Fuck,” you say, sitting up and scrubbing your hands over your face. “Fuck.” 

You stare out the window, into the deep bruise of the night. The woods rise beyond the hill, the trees skeletal as they reach for the sky, barely visible in the dark. Stars glitter coldly high above; the moon shines like a lonely mirror. It all feels distant, like a world you’re not part of.

You let out a deep, slow breath. It does nothing to loosen the string wound tight around your chest; if anything, it tightens. 

You get ready for bed slowly, that fanged thing still biting deep, leaving teeth marks that ache deeply. 

When you fall asleep, the last thing you see is Jing Yuan’s eyes.

***

The next day dawns too early. You once again wake with the sunlight, having forgotten to close the curtains as you drifted around the room last night. The watery light pools on the floor, sweetly golden. The wooden floor is warm under your feet as you cross through the puddles of sunlight. 

You get ready for the day quickly. You pack up carefully, rolling your clothes up so they fit better before you tuck your toiletries in. You keep your laptop out to answer emails as they come in. The sun stretches along the floor as you work, barely coming up for air.

You don’t dare give yourself time to think.

You check out in the early afternoon. The receptionist is the one who checked you in. She’s quick and efficient, and you find yourself on the doorstep of the inn waiting for a cab in just a few minutes. 

The taxi driver is quiet;  you find yourself wishing for the same talkative driver as before. At least it would fill the air, give you something to concentrate on beside the noise in your head. 

It’s all mixed together, a slush puddle that you keep stamping through, expecting to not get splashed this time. Jing Yuan, the project, your work, the promotion—it runs through your head non-stop, circling over and over again. Your work, all for nothing. Your possible promotion, just beyond the tips of your fingers. Jing Yuan with his golden eyes and his lips with a smile tucked up secret in the corner of his mouth. Jing Yuan with his laughter and his dedication to the town. 

You check your email but it doesn’t help.

You’ve already told Qingzu that you’ve failed. She had taken it in stride; she made sure you knew that no one was going to blame you. The project is going to go forward with or without Jing Yuan. You knew that, but the failure stings anyway. Fu Xuan had asked for you specifically; she must have believed you could do it. 

You should have been able to. 

Except—you think of the quiet glow that Jing Yuan had yesterday. The way he’d slipped seamlessly into the town’s community, how they treat him as one of their own. He’s happy in a rare way, deeply content with his lot. How you’d felt at his side in the last few days, even as he dragged you around. What it felt like to not be so focused on work all the time; how it felt to live life again. 

Something in your chest warms. It rises through you like sparkling champagne bubbles, fizzing across your nerves.

You think of the way Jing Yuan’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. 

“Sir,” you call out to the taxi driver. “Can you please turn around?”

***

The party is in full swing by the time you arrive. There are people coming and going; laughter drifts out the door every time it opens. The path is brightly lit, with Christmas lights lining the side and elegant wreaths hanging from posts, each big red bow perfectly tied. They’re glittering with tinsel, woven expertly in through the pine boughs.

You slip inside quietly. It’s completely different from just yesterday: there are tables set up inside, piled high with an entire array of hors d'oeuvres, from tiny little tarts to a bacchanalian cheeseboard, overflowing with plump, glistening figs, wine-red grapes, and fine cheeses. The decorations have multiplied. There are fairy lights everywhere, twinkling merrily. They’re tucked into vast, lush garlands that drape along the tables; there are candles flickering in their ornate holders, little wisps of smoke dancing from the flames. 

It's easy to find Jing Yuan; he’s holding court by the Christmas tree, perfectly visible from the doorway. He’s chatting away with the small group that’s gathered around him, but there’s something different about him. Something you can’t quite name. 

He looks wilted, almost, like the flowers in the last days of summer, still thriving but sensing their end. He smiles at someone and there’s nothing tucked up secret in the corner of his lips. Your chest aches, something howling between the gaps of your ribs. 

He glances up and your eyes meet. He goes still, and then there’s a brilliant smile spreading across his lips, the sun come down to earth. He excuses himself from his group and makes his way over to you. 

“Hi,” you say as he draws near, a little bit breathless.

“Hi,” he says.  

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words rushing from you like water. “The last few days haven’t been nothing. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s alright,” he says. “I’m sorry that I led you astray.”

“Why did you do it?”

He sighs. “I remember what it was like to work like that. To give up everything for the job. No one should live like that. And you seemed so lonely.” 

You wince.

“Sorry,” he says. “But it’s what I saw.”

You shake your head. “It’s not like you were wrong. And you made me less lonely, Jing Yuan.”

He reaches out and sweeps his thumb over the apple of your cheek. You sway into the touch, turning until your cheek is cradled in his palm. “I’m glad,” he says softly. “All I want is for you to be happy.” 

Someone whistles. You balk, starting to step back; Jing Yuan catches you before you can go far, pulling you in close.

“You’re under the mistletoe,” someone calls. 

You look up, and sure enough, there’s mistletoe hanging innocently above you, the tiny flowers white as snow. It’s tied off with a perfect red ribbon.

“We don’t have to—”

“It’s tradition,” you say, and then you’re surging up to kiss him. He meets you halfway and as his lips brush yours, warmth blooms inside your chest, embers stoked to flame. He cups the back of your head to pull you closer. You make a little noise; he swallows it down. 

There’s a certain greed to the kiss; a longing, too. He steals the breath from you; takes in your air and makes it his own. You kiss him harder, as if he might disappear. 

When you break apart, he leans down to press his forehead against yours. You close your eyes. You can hear people murmuring, but they seem far away. Only Jing Yuan feels real. You open your eyes and glance up at him. He smiles at you, his golden eyes crinkling at the edges. Your heart flutters behind your ribs, beating against the cage of them like a bird’s wings.

“Merry Christmas,” you breathe. 

“Merry Christmas,” he says softly.

He kisses you again and this time, it feels like coming home. 

[pascals-doll]

mini skirt

javíer peña x reader

ೀ ive been so focused on my series i missed writing for our man osrs !!

ೀ its spring break n with amount of parties ive got to attend, my ass will b going to write a fic duh!

ೀ description: porn with no plot literally, SMUT SMUT, this shit lowk filthy, reader is bent over the passenger seat 😶, public sex!, parked (?) car sex, oral sex (r receiving) exhibitionism, dom!javíer, mean!javíer, possesive af!javí, sub!reader, reader speaks slight spanish, reader is thristy for javi, JAVÍ TALKS YOU THRU IT/IN SPANISH 2 (😩🤧), lowk degradation in spanish aswell, multiple orgasms, slight overstim (r receiving), degradation ( r receiving), eating out from the back, spanking, doggystyle, hair pulling ( r receiving), choking ( r receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no use of y/n, use of pet names (pequeña, neña, bebésita, amor/amorsita)

spanish key words for all my non-spanish speakers !

-pequeña/neña: term of endearment for someone smaller than/my girl, babygirl

-princesa/bebésita: my baby/princess

-dime/porque: tell me/why

- tan’ mojada/tan linda: so wet/ your so wet/such a sweet/so sweet

-lo que quieres/dios mio: my god/oh my god/what you want

-belleza/sucia: beauty/dirty/filthy

-amas/amor/(sita): you love/love/lover

-como te pongo/volverá pasar: how i get you/ever happen again/happened again

-eso/lo que pasará : a way of affirming or agreeing/what will happen again

in traditional way of celebrating the spring break, how else than going out with your girls to the club?

the winter was finally over as women traded their big coats and long-sleeves for skimpy tops and short skirts or shorts.

your beloved boyfriend knew you would be going out tonight, letting him know before he left for his federal attendees.

Javíer didn’t say much except to text him once you left the house, arrived at the party, and when to come pick you up.

Javí was a sweet, a gentle giant.

but he was also stern, it was a trait he had to deal with being apart of the job. it was in his nature to be overprotective.

his eyes told you something completely different along with his stance although he didn’t once tell you a negative thing for wanting to go out and have fun.

he had his hands on his hips, popping one out as his eyebrows tensed together and his tongue poked through his cheek. Javí’s eyes were mean and deep as he stared at you while you promised him to let him know the second anything were to happen before he got ready for work.

you were all dressed up by 9:00 pm as you now, waited on your friends to pick you up at any moment now.

you were wearing a green tube top, pairing it with a pink plaid mini skirt. you chose a cute silver chain belt as an accessory to go along with your silver blinged earrings.

your makeup was set onto your skin perfectly, bringing out the best features of your beauty. your hair was styled to your liking and you chose these cute bubblegum pink pumps to piece your outfit all together.

you picked up your phone, having a small photoshoot of your own before choosing the picture you thought was best and sending it to Javìer.

you were sat infront of the mirror, pulling a cute pose while trying to get you whole outfit in frame.

not even 3 minutes later, a ping rings through your phone.

⤷ que belleza neña go have ur fun for now

⤷ cus ur not gonna like it when i pick u up

your heart raced with lustful anticipation and excitement. you continued to tease him through message, sending another picture to him that showed how risque your pink mini-skirt was.

⤷ u are so done for pequeña

he wasn’t even here, yet you could feel his menacing presence and hear his strict tone in your head.

soon enough, you were getting a call from your friends; letting you know they were outside.

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧ ✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

you and your bestfriend danced along to the house music that played through the huge booming speakers of the wide-spaced club that was only illuminated by a combination of different color fading lights.

you had a few drinks already, loosing track of how long you’ve been dancing for before stepping away with your friends. you went back to your the corner couch you were seated at along with your friends.

you felt hazed out and tipsy as you uncapped your water bottle before taking a sip.

all your tipsy self could think about was Javí, it was 1 AM and you knew he was awake and on stand-by for you.

your vision was blurry because of the alcohol as you open his contact, dialing him on the phone. you hear the phone ring momentarily before connecting.

“everything good, princesa?”

“mmhmm, i misss you javí” you slurred out.

“how drunk are you, neña?” his tone was caring, making your overwhelmed tipsy body run a cold shiver through your spine.

“s’only tipsyy—amor?” you respond before calling out to him, more like whining out to him.

“dime pequeña” the way his voice sounded so caring, yet stern, made your body quiver and breath hitch.

the alcohol was definitely assisting your mind in fogging it with only one thought; Javíer.

“come pick me up—s’wanna go home to youu” you plead with a slight moan, the alcohol was definitely getting the best of you.

“i’ll be there in 15 minutes, get ready.”

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧ ✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

Javí was not an idiot, he could hear the neediness in your tone.

after being together for 5 years, Javí always knew the second his poor girl had one too many drinks and wanted to run home to her man.

which is how you always ended up with you stuffed so full of Javíer’s thick cock after a night out.

Javíer practically sped through the semi-empty midnight streets, definitely not driving the speed limit.

soon enough he was outside the club venue, sending you a message that he was outside. Javíer couldn’t find close parking, so he parked the car farther down the empty street.

you were inside, hugging your friend's goodbye, grabbing your purse before they walked you to the front of the club door.

you opened the door and there he was, the man you had been longing for the whole night. he was standing there under the streetlight with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

he had his light blue button up hugging his chest and muscular arms as it was tucked into his jeans, his belt holding his pants perfectly.

you took him in as you step towards him as he puffed on his cigarette while his eyes traveled down your body.

Javíer took in the way your tits were accentuated through your small green top, your skirt stopped just at your upper thigh as your entire legs were on display, and your pumps gave you a taller stance than your natural one.

you still were not enough to compare to his tall and built frame.

Javí steps closer once you were just a foot away from him, your face meeting his broad chest “real dolled up, huh?” he mutters under his breath, lifting two fingers to grasp your chin; making you look up at him.

you felt your voice caught in your throat as you felt your heat begin to pool into your panties. the breeze from the cold night air, lifting the blimps of your skin.

“c’mon pequeña, i parked the car a little down” Javí instinctively wraps his arm around your lower waist, his hand ghosting over your ass.

you didn’t realize how he was sizing up your skirt with his hand, seeing how close he was to that pretty pussy over your little skirt.

you both made your way down the dark street; the night sky being illuminated by the full moon that was bleeding bright tonight as you both walked past dim streetlights.

you pass a couple empty parked cars; the streets empty with no one in view.

you walked down with Javíer having a tight grasp on your waist made your mind run wild in a pure lustful frenzy.

you see Javí’s truck come into view, recognizing the big black vehicle from a few feet away.

“so did you have fun, princesa?” he begins to ask you about your night as the arm that was wrapped around you loosens. he took your purse from your arm before proceeding to unlock the door.

“was’good babyy, i danced a good bit with my friends after i finished my two drinkss” you slightly slurred out as your vision regained its focus but feeling the buzz still tingle up your body.

he opened the passenger door for you as he set your purse down inside the car.

all you heard from Javí was an almost inaudible hum from his lips as you go to step into the passenger seat…. or at least you tried.

Javíer immediately made your body fumble over into the passenger seat, bending over with one knee on the seat and your other foot down onto the pedestal below his truck, holding your balance.

“Ja-Javí?” you were slightly taken aback by the way he grabbed you, but you weren’t complaining as him manhandling you completely had your panties glued to your slit by your own arousal.

“i bet all the men in there enjoyed the little show you gave them” his tone was husky and cold as you felt his back against yours as his thick cool buckle brushed against the back of your exposed thighs.

“I-no—I wasn’t” you began to whine out, your ass squirming a little and bumping up against his belt buckle more.

“hm neña? I couldn’t hear you.” you felt his cold hands flip your skirt up, fondling and gripping the flesh as more midnight breeze pushed against your skin.

you were facing forward, only seeing the complete inside of his car and empty driver seat.

but you could completely feel Javíer behind you.

you looked back at him causing your body to arch down a bit more, completely exposing your seeped through panties. you’ve never felt so exposed before.

here you were, bent over Javí’s truck with your ass completely exposed for public display as the car door wasn’t shut at all.

the only coverage being the open car-door from the side; creating a makeshift shield from one angle as the other had a perfect view for anyone to see the way Javíer was going to fuck you.

“tan’ mojada pequeña, porque?”

you felt his hands run up and down your clothed slit, pushing the wet fabric against your pussy causing a temporary bubbly friction as you felt the pressure of his two fingers.

you let out a pathetic whimper as you lean yourself more forward, trying your hardest to focus on your balance.

“fuckin’ answer me when I'm talking to you!”

he ordered, his tone was harsh and guttural causing a chill to run up your body which was immediately followed by a jump as Javíer’s hand landed a dour smack onto the exposed flesh of your ass.

“you! s’all because of you!” you yelp out as you wiggle your ass excitingly.

“oh so, my slut does know how to speak” he mocked out, his tone pitying you.

“m’sorry Javí—no volverá pasar!” your voice velveted out as you pleaded, your legs quivering with each blow of nature’s breeze.

“mí neña tan linda, always wanting to go out in such slutty outfits.” he cooed out, his hands finding the slim lining of your underwear right under your skirt.

you felt so small and filthy like this, your body subconsciously growing timid under the oozing pleasure he was igniting inside you and out of you, right here at the corner of an empty street, in a parked car.

he pulled down your panties, watching through the natural gloomed out lighting how your panties sticked to your pussy with your juices leaking down you.

“look at that pretty pussy” he coos lewdly, causing you to whine out as takes his middle and ring finger to circle around your soaked pussyhole.

“been needing you, Javí baby” you began to babble as he made you grow more antsy in bliss.

“only you! need you—please-oh fuck!” your babbles were interrupted by your own shriek as you felt a warm wet feeling take over the one cold and exposed feeling of your pussy.

Javíer began to fuck you with his tongue, wasting no time in attaching his lips to your dripping pussy; how could he? when it was crying for him.

you tried to keep your balance by gripping onto the headrest of the passenger seat as you felt his tongue run a long swipe along your juiced folds “oh fuck Javí!” you were too fucking horny to care about your loud moans possibly ringing through the silent street-night.

not for a single second did Javí pull away from your pussy, giving her all his attention.

Javíer sucked on your clit, rolling his tongue around it and your slits as the only words that fell from your lips was his name.

“oh my—Javí! oh my fuck!” you couldn’t help but croak out your moans at the immense pleasure you were feeling.

the way he had you was bringing you pure rapture at the taboo thought of someone possibly watching you two in the midnight.

you could feel your stomach erupt as your orgasm bubbled through the delicious open-mouthed licks coming from his beautiful tongue.

you felt the small hairs of his mustache friction against your clit causing your ass to push back into his face more while you cried out in ecstasy. you felt yourself grow closer to your climax.

Javíer kept up with the volume of your moans and pathetic whines.

his pace never halting as his hands went to grip your hips to keep your ass bent over and pussy exposed as he eats you out like he hasn’t fucking eaten in decades.

you felt your orgasm begin to build up, you were sure your nails were digging into the plush of the passenger seat material, creating crescents into the fabric.

your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell agape in vicious delight. you felt your orgasm flow through your body as he licked each trickling bead from your leaking pussy.

you felt satisfaction warp through your body as you look back at Javí.

you could barely see him as the moon shined right behind his head like a make-shift crown, for the only man; only man you allowed to ever take you like this, like a whore.

Javíer had been palming his painful hard-on through his now, unzipped jeans; only the crotch of his boxers for display through his unbuckled belt.

you began to wriggle your ass even more, slightly backing it to brush up against his clothed cock. you felt the cool metal buckle against your flesh again, colliding with the feeling of another indecent smack to your plushy ass.

you were still looking back at him as you let out euphoric sob through fucked out eyes.

“dime lo que quieres, mi amor”

Javíer husked out, licking his lips before massaging the tingling flesh of your ass. his voice returned to a low octave, still carrying a stern, but no longer harsh demeanor.

“i need you to fuck me Javí!”

that was all he needed to hear to have him slipping his boxers low enough to pull out his thick erection, standing flavorful and tall.

Javíer pumped himself softly before aligning himself with your glistening entrance.

Javí squeezed your hips softly, bringing you closer to him as he sinks his cock into your gushy pussy.

the second you feel his cock glide into with ease like always, your pussy always managing to snug him perfectly into you as the stretch convulsed your pussy.

“y’always feel like fuckin’ heaven, bebésita” Javíer hissed out as the feeling of your balmy and pulsing pussy, taking him like you were made for him only.

“feels—feels so good amor! s’big!” you mewled out, your voice being fervent.

Javíer became the only thing you felt, engulfing your pussy and whole-being.

you felt him begin to slide in’n’out of you at a feverishly slow pace, making you feel every inch that smoothly drowned into each crevess of your insides.

just the feeling of Javí’s big thick cock had your breath caught in your chest, completely mind-bending as his soft slides turn into piquant thrusts in no time.

“mphm—díos mìo!” you cried out lecherously, you felt Javíer’s hand make its way up your semi-clothed back till it was entangled in your hair.

he doesn’t hesitate to pull on it, pulling your body up along the way and arching the position you were in more. you were sure your nails cut into the fabric of Javíer’s little truck.

Javíer’s savoring slow pace turned into pummeling thrusts. you could feel each bounce of your ass bounce off his hips as his hand tugged on your hair, inflaming a riveting pain in you.

his pace electrified with each little sob of his name that left your mouth, you could barely even speak as you tried to swallow back the drool that threaten to drip down the corner of your fucked out mouth.

“who’s slut are you, hm?” once again, his jarring tone and vulgarity came out.

“¡solo para ti! siempre para ti!” you chant , repeating it once more at another smack he landed on the now, strawberry flesh off your ass.

“eso bebèsita, all those men can look but, they can’t touch—isn’t that, right?” his question grunts out as his cock rams into you at a relishing speed.

your head was being tugged back as your body recoiled with every vigorous thrust from his snapping hips. your neck began to ache as you struggle to keep looking at him as his hand gripped your hair; unknowing if he can even see you but oh, he definitely can.

your eyes were squeezed shut as your mouth was completely agape, feeling wicked with the cock-dumb haze he put you in.

your body shook as Javíer completely ravished you.

“Javí—yes! fuck ya—” your pussy clenched around him with your fucked out babble.

“amás como te pongo, eh? letting me fuck you right’ere where anyone can see—que suciá.”

“for you—only—fuck—you!” your moans got more strangled out with each worship that left your mouth, his cock completely taking over your membrane; filling your pussy and mind with each hankering momentum.

his cock continued to plunge into you mercilessly, the sound of your each other’s skin slamming against each other with the small deep creaks coming from the moving truck.

Javíer was taking you viciously and relentlessly, his hand let go of the tug he had on your hair before finding its way around your neck, squeezing ever-so slightly.

all he wishes was to be able to be there with you, every single time you go out, but his job took so much time away from his personal life; it infuriated him, especially today when he seen those little pictures you sent him.

it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, he knew how much you loved him, but it was the people.

he wishes he could keep you like his gun, tucked away and only accessible to him.

you felt his cock pistol into you at a deeper angle, feeling his tip flutter against your cervix causing your tummy to swell in rapture. you weren’t even sure if you were still breathing at this point, only rigid cries and moans leaving your lips.

“please javí! please! s’much—too much!” you could feel your stomach bubble up immense pleasure and overstimulating pain as your walls flared and fluttered around his thick cock as your second orgasm begins to enthrall your body.

“now now, y’can handle the club—you can handle this dick, isn’t that right pequeña?” Javíer hissed and heaved out roughly as he feels his own climax approach him.

he still doesn't stop his hips from hauling into yours as he leans himself down, splaying his clothed chest against your back. you felt his free hand go up through your torso till he found his way to your titties, squeezing each one through your top.

you felt the way his callous big hands burned onto your chest and neck, now feeling hot on your sweating skin. your bodies rocked against each other as you both indulged in thrilling pleasure.

you felt the brim of your climax get closer to shooting through and out your body, pussy clenching once more around Javíer’s coated cock “ándale neña, dámelo” he coos breathlessly as his hips begin to stutter down into a flux pace.

the empty streets echoed with noises of your nefarious act.

you would be damned the minute anyone was to see two of you.

just the unholy thought of someone possibly watching the two of you. the way he had you like this; in a completely immorally beautiful position was enough to have your body skyrocket.

the intense wave that crashed through you as your cries croak out into silence, only now hearing Javíer’s deep groans and grunts in your ear as the grip he has on your throat tightens softly.

he began to reach his own climax as you felt him twitch inside your fluttering walls, milking him through his orgasm completely. your bodies completely melted into each other as you both became breathless together.

you felt the way his load creamed into you, coating your walls and filling you up with his creamy cum as he watches the mix of both your pulpy moisture drip out of your swollen hole.

you were seeing stars as your eyes were squeeze shut as the slight cut-off of oxygen had your mind-boggled and feeling febrile.

the second Javíer feels you turn into mush under him while in his embrace. he immediately pulls out, reality setting him out of his lust possessed-like trance.

he tucks himself away after hiking up your panties and pulling down your skirt. he reached over for his jacket that was in the driver's seat, sprawling it over your lap after he flipped you over; helping your sore and fucked-out self sit.

he immediately checked around to see if anyone had been watching before shutting your passenger door and making his way to sit in the driver’s seat.

he leaned over into you, placing a passionate kiss on your lips as his warm hand caresses your cheek before pulling away, still leaned in close to your lips.

“lo que pasára pequeña, if you wear these tiny mini skirts without around me”

dolls-taglist: ̗̀➛ @elliewilliamsgirl3 @yondaimekazzy

to join my taglist click here !

[hotheadedhero]

Now hear me out-

Bayverse turtles giving reader a spiderman kiss. Like maybe the turtles haven't seen their beloved significant other for a while and decide to sneak away from patrol for a split second to give them an upside down smooch.

💜

AN: Hearing you loud and clear my lovely, this is frickin adorable, thank you! Big spiderman fan over here <3 Hope you weren't waiting too long, even being on holiday wasn't going to stop me finishing this 👀

Kiss me

Bay Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

You are in the middle of reading on your couch when there’s knocking at your window. A set of rhythmic taps that play out in a particular pattern. A secret code indicative of who is waiting outside your living room. With a joyous grin, you spring up onto your feet and pull the curtains open. You expected to see your boyfriend outside but you did not expect him to be hanging upside down from your upstairs neighbour's part of the fire escape. Given the fact that yours is currently classed as unsafe to use, this makes a lot more sense.

The set of circumstances that led to such a problem is not your fault. Whoever had lived here prior, assumed it would be a great idea to place a blow-up paddling pool on it for those dreadfully hot summers. The funny thing about chlorine water, however, is that chlorine water accelerates the corrosion of metals. Much to your derisive luck, it didn’t start taking effect until a few months after you had moved in. Without any substantial evidence, the blame is being passed over to you and that is not a bill you have the funds to meet. Hence, you are awaiting a hearing and, hopefully, following approval to get it fixed without burning a said hole in your pocket. Landlords, am I right?

You open the window for Leonardo. “I see you came to hang out,” you quip before smiling awkwardly. “Sorry about the broken fire escape.”

He shakes his head, knowing that you should be the last person apologising for it, but decides to make light of the situation with his own humour. "You may want to look into that."

"If you got a spare grand or two lying around," you joke in return, "I'd be happy to."

Leo breathes a quiet laugh and puckers his lips. Figures that he would only have time for a quick greeting, so you may as well make it worthwhile when you have the chance. Happily, you comply and lean forward for a kiss. You smile into it and, in doing so, you feel him do the same. It can be hard to find the time for small moments such as is but they are always cherished.

"Now go keep us safe,” you mumble against his lips. “I’ll come by the lair when you’re done.”

One last kiss is exchanged, trying to savour it as best you can, before he inevitably has to disappear into the night again.

Raphael

Sometimes dating can be a whirlwind of mystery and uncertainties: days where one wonders if such a thing is tenable. Raphael knew your relationship would come with certain hurdles - albeit this isn't the worst it could be - but he didn't think you'd go this long without seeing each other. With you working during the day and him the night, planning time together is a challenge. For the quieter nights, you’re usually too tired from your job. There’s the occasional drop-in on your days off but it’s a similar problem what with him needing sleep, too. Not now, though. The frustration is settled thickly into his skin. Perhaps that’s why he’s working so hard on his crunches. Replace the mental burn with a physical one.

Deciding to turn up the burn, he lifts himself onto his pull-up bar, hooks his knees over it, and resumes working on his core. Raph gets close to a hundred reps before he hears the rapid pitter of feet coming straight for the lair. He prepares to descend to the ground and greet you but you rush into his gym and grab his face before he gets the chance.

"Just wanted to drop by quick," you sputter feverishly before smacking your mouth into his. "Can't stay long."

Then you kiss him again; a long, deep, and tender press of your lips upon his. He falls into it enough that the raw emotion is clear but not so much that he slips from the pull-up bar. The fact that you’ve hurried in before your shift just to give him some quick love means the world to this big lug. He should think about missing you more often if it means the universe will summon you to him. One hand outstretches to pull your head closer but you move away just as he's about to. Damn.

Sprinting off, you shout out a last, "Love you," before disappearing off into one of the many sewer tunnels.

He just hangs there gaunt, blinking for the after-image of you that is now completely gone. Had he not been taken so sharply off guard, he probably would have made a grab for you, insisting that you call in sick and stay. In a perfect world, maybe. A short huff of amusement blows out of his nostrils and he returns to his workout, now fueled with a new, more desirable burn.

With a smirk and underlays of that soft smile you coax out of him, he whispers under his breath, “Love you, too.”

Donatello

As far as work days go, this one has been a doozy and getting back home couldn’t possibly be a more sweet reward. There aren’t many floors to climb but you’re so tired that you opt to use the lift instead of the stairs; a little self-treat and a decision that you quickly regret when it comes to a halt. Your poor, weary body jostles with the force of it stopping abruptly and you whine. Please, don’t do this. After the day you’ve had, this is the last thing you need.

Just when you think it can’t possibly get any worse, there’s a thud from right above your head. Bandits? Burglary? A raid? All stupid ideas in the grand scheme of things but panic is leading you to such irrational thoughts. With your rucksack as your only defence, you hold it up ready to bring a smackdown if needs be. Clanging. Creaking. Weight shifting. Then, the ceiling’s latch falls and down comes a head.

“Mind if I drop by?” your turtle boyfriend asks as he hangs all topsy-turvy in front of you.

“Oh, thank Mercury, it’s you,” you heave, letting your bag drop to place a hand on your chest. The prior anxiety wears off just enough for a new one to beckon and you straighten up. “Wait, the security cams-”

“Already taken care of,” he reassures with a weirdly cheeky grin. “How’s this for some spontaneous romance?”

Slowly, your face pinches and points up at Donnie, not overly impressed with what’s insinuated here. So, this was all curated by him, was it? Possibly a cute plan from his perspective but you’re much too drained to see it that way.

You rub your eyes with your thumb and finger and sigh. “I wouldn’t consider giving me a near damn heart attack romantic, Don.”

“Would it be considered somewhat romantic if I were to say that I also reset and upgraded your lift system? It shouldn’t malfunction for another 5 years now.”

Knowing he’d find a way to have a sweet reason for this, you can hardly hold back your smile. It’s a bit out there but you also have to remind yourself of who you’re dating. You sigh again, this time in fake disdain, and lean off the wall to kiss him. Judging by the little hum in his throat, he must be feeling pretty proud of himself. When you pull away, you adjust his slightly crooked glasses.

“The best thing you could do right now is let me get to my apartment,” you note with a pat on his cheek. “Please?”

His eyes light up and he disappears back up from whence he came to get things running. Getting back home may have been trickier than you anticipated but it isn’t without its perks for being able to see Donnie. A conversation may need to be had about his choices of flirtatious spontaneity, however.

Michelangelo

In the late hours of the evening, you had decided to start settling down for the night. The typical, run-of-the-mill routine: brush your teeth, wash your face, and get into some cosy pyjamas. A nice movie sounds like a good idea before you hit the hay. You leave the bathroom to get a start on choosing one when you remark something in the air. It isn’t clear but there is an unspecified something different with your apartment since you’ve been in the bathroom. A smell? Or perhaps a few objects that now appear to be out of place. There wasn’t any noise to indicate a new presence. Ah. You know exactly what’s going on. Keeping back a laugh, you place your hand on your hips.

“I know you’re up there, Mikey,” you say, not even bothering to look up at your intruder.

“Aw, babe,” he whines from the ceiling as he lets the upper half of his body fall and hang limply in front of you. “Ruining the moment here.”

These types of hijinks may have pulled a fast one over you back in the day but you’ve grown more than accustomed to them by now, much to your boyfriend’s dismay. He isn’t inherently set on scaring your socks off - as much as that is a bonus - but he likes surprising you, seeing the sparkle in your eyes when you realise it’s him. He looks like a bit of a wounded puppy for the fact, so it only seems fair that you perk him back up again. Playfully rolling your eyes, you take a few steps forward and kiss him sweetly. It’s safe to say that this is much better than getting you all frightened. Regardless of that, you have to quietly question how he’s managed to find the time to come and attempt a prank at your expense in the first place.

“Mikey,” you hear one of his brothers yell from outside, “Don’s picked up on a burglary from the police scanners. We gotta go. Now!”

That answers that, then.

“Duty calls, angel,” he breathes out, clearly bummed out but feigning it against his lax grin. “You know how it is.”

Sensing his disappointment, you peck his lips again and grin encouragingly. “Go get ‘em, hero.”

He shoots you a wink and lets himself drop to the floor before jumping out of your window. You watch him bound off over rooftops, hollering and likely getting an ear chewed off by his brothers. Mikey hates to leave his sweetness behind but you know just what to say to get him fired up. Those thugs shall endure a swift beat down, so he can return for his “hero’s reward” quickly.

If you liked this, there's a real neat one by @theyhavetakenovermylife with the 2012 boyos with the same concept! (and also you just have to check out all of their works, they're amazing 🙏😭💕)

[walpu]

walp walp hear me out

remember that trailblazer scene with firefly and how she just just gets stabby stabbed by the creature (memory zone meme i think)

and + Aventurine having access to the 'real' dreamscape, combine that with bodyguard! reader who will go through hell and back to make sure Aventurine will. Live.

reader follows aven during the entirety of the Penacony quest, including when Black Swan teleports the both of them to the real memory zone. (also, does anyone else feel like bodyguard! reader and Trailblazer would be besties... no, just me?)

now, keep in mind, Aven and reader have a... complicated bond. IPC workers here and there say their dating, the Trailblazer has straightup asked if they would just get a room (you get their vibe, you can go along with the secret assassin! bodyguard! reader req i sent in)

a little bit more insight on their dynamic (again, going with the assassin reader thing, its already known between the two atp, so this can be set after that period), Aven wants to love reader, wants to hold them close, and wants their affection, but dammit, he just cant bring himself to. Not when he's sure he'll just hurt everyone that comes close to him (his sister, cough cough)

and reader has the same mindset, they love Aven, as a boss, as that annoying but endearing friend, and perhaps as more. But they have blood, the lives of people that they've unlawfully taken, not to mention, they are 100% sure Aven would never love a person who killed just for monetary income.

now, here's where the real show starts. There's also another assassin (seriously, Duke Inferno should save his manpower) following reader and Aven. Safe to say, only one is making it out alive. How the assassin followed the two of them? No fucking clue, but somehow it does.

After i assume beating the living shit out of hordes of memory zone monsters, the assassin appears, and just when Aventurine's unsuspecting?? Boom, goes in for the kill.

Yeah, too bad. Aven's not dying. But reader is! Yeah, in a act of (cliche) protection, reader allowed themselves to be the one to suffer from the attack. (Bonus if they get decapitated, or just stabbed like how Trailblazer was by Cocolia). Aven will never forget the way that he just- watched reader's body fall, the light just gone from their eyes.

Anyways, he doesn't even get to hold their body. You just- poof into bubbles like Firefly did. The last thing he has left of his beloved bodyguard? Just a simple red earring, matching the one he wore. Nothing left.

Okay, im also going to cope here that the whole shitshow with Aven and Acheron did not happen, he returns to the room that reader had, and he just... stands there. He takes in the way that half of the room was messy, half of it was untouched. So much like them, unpredictable and just had a touch of the weirdness he loved so damn much.

(Bonus if you want a happy scenario, reader's alive and well, afterall, dying in the dreamscape doesn't kill anyone. Reader is probably smiling very awkwardly while they stare at a teary eyed Aventurine, then they make out /hj)

yay another rant, i had this idea for days, the decapitation part may or may not have been plaguing me (should i be concerned), anyways, thanks for listening to my word vomit, stay safe and stay healthy <33

feel like falling on my knees and begging to forgive me for taking so long this spring doesn't let me breath istg. I've got this request before 2.1 and only got to it now that's why Aven is ghosting me.

bodyguard!reader "dying" in the dreamscape to protect Aventurine

sort of a sequel to this but can be read as a separate work as well, the main thing you need to know is that reader was originally an assassin sent by Duke Inferno but they've changed their mind and stayed by Aven's side

notes - gn!reader, angst, unestablished relationship, no beta

You both knew the trip to Penacony would be difficult. You, in particular, knew that something big and very sinister is coming, judging by the way Aventurine danced around the subject, not giving you full information.

You may not know all the details of Aventurine's plan but you know him well enough to realize that he's planning on doing something extremely reckless and dangerous.

So you do your best to protect him. To shiels him from any possible danger, to keep him within your reach.

Of course Aventirune notices. How can he not notice when he already keeps his eye on you most of the time anyway. And just as you're trying to look out for him, he wants to looks out for you.

This mission already could be considered suicidal and he doesn't want you to be caught in this. Better to keep you in the dark, away from it.

Yet he can't help but selfishly enjoy your attention, your tenderness. You go out of your ways to make sure he's fine and he feels so undeserving of it. How can you be so kind when he's keeping so much from you?

You've seen him at his worst and you've stayed. You've proven so many times that you care for him not because it's just your job, not because of his money or status but because it's him.

He still struggles to believe in it sometimes. When he feels doubtful , he rubs his cheek against your shoulder in a playful cat-like manner and watches your reaction. Amusement you're trying to hide. Adoration you can't hide.

How can he doubt you? You're the one who should be doubting him.

He wants to melt into you, to be even closer than the two of you already are, but how can he love you without putting you in danger? Without draining your luck, without cursing you?

Sometimes he sees the same struggles in your eyes. When you carefully trace his face with the tips of your gloved fingers, your gaze sometimes lowers and you pull your hand away, as if you're ashamed.

But of what, of what? The blood on your hands? He has it too!

He wants to tell you this, to hold you tight, to never ever let go. The wish is so primal that everyone else can see. The memokeeper giving him a knowing smile as soon as she sees you two together, the masked fool taunting him about the only one willing to listen to him being his loyal dog ("though, judging by the way you look at them, little peacock, you're the one on the leash here~" she says. It feels like even a lower blow than the comments about his past. At least he expected those, but being taunted about his obvious feelings for is new), mx. Stellaron asking you two to get a room with a deadpun expression.

The worst one is the doctor though. Asking Aventurine to focus on the mission, then, in a softer tone, suggesting to tell you more about the plan. "It's foolish to keep it from your most trusted person, gambler. In the end, it may hurt them even more than your obsessive concerns".

If Ratio of all people gives you relationship advice you're doing soooo bad.

Yet Aventurine can't bring himself to listen to his words. He wants you safe and well, and he's sure (he's not sure) he's doing the right thing.

And yet he's wrong. He can't shield you, he can't. One of the richest people in the IPC, one of the Ten Stonehearts, the blessed one, yet he can't protect the one he loves no matter how much he tries. He's cursed, doomed, isn't he?

Damned Duke Inferno. He's dead, annihilated, and yet, somehow, one of his wretched dogs, his sneaky little assassin, finds you two in the depths of the memory zone. Such dedication to the cause!

There are two gunshots. Inferno's little rat and you strike at the same time. Them, aiming at Aventurine, and you, aiming at them. Only one bullet reaches it's target though.

It all happens so fast. You react immediately, covering Aventurine with your body. You move instinctively at the same second you shoot.

When their bullet hits you, you don't even feel it. Maybe because it's still a dreamland? The pain just won't come even though your back feels like it's on fire. You don't understand it yet but your body already starts disappearing.

All you can focus on is Aventurine's wide shocked eyes. His beautiful, beautiful eyes.

You smile weakly at him. That's all he can see before you're gone. He doesn't even have time to reach out to you, to hold you. As if he ever had the privilege of holding his loved ones in their final moments.

You just poof into the blue bubbles.

He rushes into the real world, in your room, praying to any deity that may here for you to be alive and well. It was a dream, not a real world. You can't die in a dream, not really. You weren't even killed by the memory zone meme, surely you're fine!

Yet you're not. You're not here, not anywhere in the hotel. You're truly gone.

He feels everything and nothing at the same time.

Of course, of course, of course he wasn't able to protect you!

How lucky he is, he has avoided death once again! His beloved died to protect him but he has survived! He's so blessed, truly, so blessed!

He finds himself on his knees, on the verge of hysterical laughter. The only thing you left behind is a small red earring he has gifted. And he clatches it so tightly his hand bleeds. Perhaps the pain is the only thing keeping him sane at this moment.

It feels like a cruel joke. It doesn't feel real, it shouldn't be real.

Wait... That's it! It isn't real. It's impossible to die in a dream! It was his theory all along, after all. It must be true. You just can't be dead, you can't, not you too.

His plan hasn't changed, he tells Ratio when he comes to check on Aventurine. He just needs to reach the real Penacony. To reach it and to find you there. You're strong and brave and so wonderful. You're out there somewhere, he just needs to help you to get back to the real world.

He holds into that idea like a madman. It doesn't matter how dangerous it is. It never did, to be honest. But now it's like he can't focus on anything else.

He hasn't feel so despaired in years. He just needs to find you, everything else is meaningless.

So when it's time for the final act, he gets on stage, fears not and doesn't look back.

He still holds his hand behind his back though. Clutching your earrings for dear life.

[enby-jellyfish]

All Coiled Up

Male!Naga X GN!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/your

Summary: Cuddling with a naga.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, me attempting to be poetic, (probably?) inaccurate homesteading and snake biology, reader gets licked/smelled and (gently) bitten

Word Count: 775

A/N: Based on this poll <3

It is a hot spring evening. The first of the year, you note as you trudge up to your cozy little home on the hill. It is the kind of home you dreamed of when you were a little kid. The perfect size and shape, with plenty of windows, filled to the brim with all of your trinkets and a shit ton of plants.

Right beside your home is the farm you spent the whole day working. It has everything you need to be self-sufficient, a big vegetable garden, chickens, sheep, cattle and a beehive.

It has been a busy day, a calf got stuck in a fence and you had to plant plenty of new seasonal crops and do weed control.

Naturally, you are exhausted. You feel your body ache as you rub your neck to try and release some tension. You remind yourself your hard work will be worth it.

Finally you enter your home and lean against the door, closing it and taking a deep breath, your eyes shut. You stay like that for a moment before you hear something, or rather someone, and open your eyes to be greeted with the sight of your beloved naga.

His face is relaxed, eyes closed. His body is coiled up near one of the many windows, bathing in the sunlight of the setting sun. It is something he has been doing since the first warm sunbeams of the year.

You smile to yourself and just drink in the view. He looks so beautiful. The sunbeams kissing his face like they are long lost lovers, now reunited. The beautiful orange and yellow of his scales highlighted by the golden light. It is truly a combination meant to be, serpent and sun. Seeing him so comfortable is truly a sight for sore eyes, capable of warming even the coldest of hearts.

Your naga has a hard time adjusting to the switching of the seasons. A battle between his simultaneously cold- and warmblooded body you suppose.

It has been a few years now since you first found him that one winter night. You had heard a noise coming from your farm and found him half starved in the chicken pen, looking for food and shelter from the snow. You took him in, fed him and helped make him a mock burrow in the shed.

After his brumation period he offered to keep the predators away from your farm in return for your kindness. He never left you after that. You slowly found yourself growing to like him. This later turned to love, which was reciprocated with open arms and a warm smile that made his eyes twinkle like stars.

You remind yourself that you have been staring unashamedly for quite a bit now and walk into the room. Disturbed by the noise of your footsteps on the wooden floors he lifts his head and blinks lazily at you, first with his brille and then with his eyelids.

"Finally, I was getting worried you'd keep working until the sun had long set. Come" He extends an arm to you.

"Let me clean up first, I smell."

"I don't mind..." He raises his eyebrows flirtatiously and stares at you through his eyelashes. He changes his position to face you, chin on crossed arms on his coils.

You sigh, knowing you can't resist that gorgeous face.

His face lights up as you walk over. He opens his arms and loosens his coils just enough for you to get in.

"Just for a minute." You say, knowing it won't be for just a minute.

"Of course, my love." He purrs smugly, also knowing it won't be for just a minute.

You lay on his coils, your back against his chest. As you get comfortable he wraps himself around you. The whole experience feels tight but not suffocating, his scales are smooth and have a cooling effect on your skin. It feels safe and comforting, like being wrapped up in a giant weighted blanket.

You close your eyes, slowly relaxing into his embrace as he gently rubs your arms. You feel yourself being soothed to sleep by the soft lullaby of his breathing.

Your journey to dreamland is suddenly interrupted by the feeling of a forked tongue darting out to taste your shoulder.

You smile at the ticklish feeling. "Pervert." You mutter, not opening your eyes.

He chuckles lowly. "Nothing perverted about enjoying your mate's scent. Especially when mine smells as good as you do." He playfully bites at your shoulder.

You scoff and let out a laugh at his animalistic antics. He laughs with you, slightly tightening his grip on you.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

[sflow-er]

It's Eurovision week, and for the first time in over twenty years, I won't be watching or engaging.

As you probably know, the global BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction) movement has called for a total Eurovision boycott due to the EBU's refusal to ban Israel.

The ESC has been a beloved part of my spring since I was little, and it's really fucking upsetting not getting to enjoy it this year - but that's just it. I know it won't make any difference whether one person chooses to watch or boycott, and that my watching it wouldn't even be registered as a view if I just watched the TV broadcast instead of the stream, but I can't imagine any set of circumstances in which I would enjoy it.

Back when the contest was held in Tel Aviv, I "bought myself a license to enjoy it" by donating to the UNRWA multiple times what I would've normally spent on voting, but no amount of donations would be enough to do that now. Not when every artist will be styled using the products of an Israeli beauty brand (Moroccanoil, a major ESC sponsor and likely a major player in why the EBU wouldn't even consider a ban), and when Israel itself has made its participation a political statement. The only reason their public broadcaster KAN agreed to change the lyrics of their entry, which originally referenced the Hamas attack and is still was called "October Rain" but has now been renamed "Hurricane", was this:

The president [of Israel] emphasised that at this time in particular, when those who hate us seek to push aside and boycott the state of Israel from every stage, Israel must sound its voice with pride and its head high and raise its flag in every world forum, especially this year. (The Guardian, 07 March)

Singer Eden Golan has also said that she believes her "participation is part of a very important mission for the country" and that she expects to begin her compulsory military service soon after the contest:

I still haven't enlisted in the army, and when I return from Eurovision, I'll report for my first call-up. In the first year as a returning resident, they don't call you, but that year passed and I was summoned – and my draft was postponed because of Eurovision. Doing army service is a mission, and I want to take the auditions to the military bands. (Israel Hayom, 22 April)

Yes, really. It's more likely she'll be some kind of PR ambassador for the Israeli army than be sent to Gaza with a gun, but still.

Many people are also upset about Palestinian flags being banned from the arena, and I'm not happy about it either, but I do think it's more or less understandable. The arena is a closed space, and any kind of altercation that might be sparked by those flags would be a big security risk. And at least if we are to believe executive supervisor Martin Österdahl, they haven't actually changed the rules; signs and flags with political messaging were always banned, and in this time, the Palestinian flag does send a powerful political message.

Then there's also the security risk associated with the event itself. Malmö is one of Sweden's most diverse cities, which also has both Jewish and Palestinian communities. According to a survey published on 4 May, 47% of city residents intend to avoid crowds during Eurovision. Mass protests and counter protests are expected. Events such as Quran-burnings by right-wing extremists are still allowed in the name of freedom of expression, even though the terror threat level in Sweden had to be raised to 4 out of the maximum 5 last year/this past winter due to precisely these kinds of provocations, and tensions will be running high. So even if the event itself manages to look as glitzy as always on TV, it will still be shadowed by what might be happening outside. Will there be unrest? Violence? How will the police respond?

There's no enjoyment to be found in any of that, no being "united by music" (the ESC slogan, which is a joke at this point). At least for me.

That being said, I do not judge you if you plan on watching. I understand that it's a huge annual tradition for many of us, and in these times, we need all the joy we can get. I also understand that it can feel like empty virtue signalling to boycott something when millions of others will tune in regardless - although it is good to keep in mind that this isn't some silly boycott started by social media activists on Xitter. It's a serious effort by the BDS movement.

I would challenge you to think about how you engage, though. If possible, watch it on TV instead of on stream, so your view won't be logged. (You could even consider waiting until the show gets posted on Youtube instead of giving views to the official stream, but I get that you probably want to see it live.) Try to abstain from hyping the contest or your fave entries on social media, and also from voting. Consider donating what you can afford to a charity that provides aid to Gaza instead (here's one list I found with a quick search).

And finally, spread awareness of the flip side. Don't be lulled into complacency by the claims of "Eurovision isn't political" when Israel itself has made it very clear it is - and do not make fun of people who want to sit the contest out this year or belittle their efforts.

[03jyh23]

— capturing us || choi san

every moment captured with you is a masterpiece painted with love, each frame a testament to the beauty of our journey together

vlogger!san x reader

genre: fluff

trigger warnings: none!

words: 1.6 k

reminder: what you're about to read is purely fiction, so let's keep it separate from reality.

minors do not interact

— hi there! thank you @monstaxdirtywonk for requesting this prompt, i hope you will like it! in my country spring has finally arrived, and since it's my favorite season i can't help but write about it.

love, monika. ♡

Spring was your favorite season. The vibrant blossoms, the lush greenery enveloping you, and the gentle caress of sunshine on your skin filled you with boundless joy. With the first sip of your beloved iced coffee, the perfection of spring seemed complete. Yet, amidst all this beauty, there was one presence that outshone even the splendor of the season - Choi San, the one you cherished above all else. Spring always brought a sense of renewal and joy, but nothing compared to the warmth that San brought into your life. With him, every moment felt like the perfect blend of sunshine, laughter, and love. As you sipped on your favorite iced coffee, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that spring was made even more beautiful with him by your side. 

Describing San as merely handsome felt like a gross understatement; he embodied all that was good and beautiful in this world. When his smile lit up his face and reached the depths of his eyes, it was as if the entire universe aligned just to witness that moment. He was the epitome of perfection, your favorite sight in the whole world full of wonders. In San's embrace, every doubt melted away, for his love was a constant beacon of warmth and reassurance. Never did you question his love, for his actions spoke volumes, always placing your comfort and happiness above all else. With him, there was never a moment of feeling unloved or unseen, as he showered you with care and attention in ways both big and small. His selflessness knew no bounds. In his arms, you found solace and security, knowing that you were cherished beyond measure. 

In the park, surrounded by the vibrant energy of spring, even the people passing by seemed to carry an extra bounce in their step, their smiles mirroring the blossoming flowers around them. As you waited for San to wrap up his recording for his latest vlog, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride witnessing his passion for filming flourish. From humble beginnings to now, with a growing community of subscribers, his dedication was inspiring. This year marked the third chapter of your relationship, as you watched him work, you marveled at how far you had come together, cherishing every milestone and triumph along the way.  

Returning from the depths of your thoughts, you were greeted by the familiar click of a camera. Following the sound, your eyes lit up as you saw San, your heart swelling with affection as you realized he was the one behind the lens. His mischievous grin mirrored your own bright smile, with him by your side, every instant was a precious memory.  

"I like seeing you smile." San's words danced in the air, wrapping around you. His tender affirmation ignited an even brighter smile on your lips, your heart fluttering with joy at his sweet sentiment. ''So beautiful...’’ As he swiftly pressed the camera button, freezing the moment in time, his whispered declaration washed over you, filling you with a sense of pure adoration. In his eyes, you saw reflected the depth of his affection, a love that made every moment infinitely beautiful. 

"Well, hello to you too," you greeted playfully, rising from the bench. San's response was immediate, his arms enveloping you in a gentle embrace as if he couldn't bear to be apart from you for another moment. 

"Hi, my love," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine affection. "I couldn’t wait to kiss you." As San leaned in to press a gentle, feather-like kiss against your lips, a wave of tenderness washed over you. In the early days of your relationship, there were whispers of "puppy love" and the expectation that it would eventually fade after the first year. Mentally preparing yourself for this supposed shift, you braced for changes that never came. But as time passed, you realized that your love defied such constraints. With each passing day, your connection only grew stronger, deepening into something far beyond the fleeting infatuation of puppy love. Your relationship was anchored in mutual respect, understanding, and unwavering support, traits that only strengthened as you journeyed through life together. 

"How did the recording go?" You asked, intertwining your fingers with San's as you began to stroll down your favorite path in the park. With each step, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of happiness. San smiled warmly, his gaze softening as he recounted the day's events.  

"It went really well," he replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I lost to Yunho about three times, but it’s fine. He was always a better gamer than me." You chuckled, imagining their friendly competition.  

"Well, at least you gave it your best shot," you said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, it's all in good fun, right?" San nodded a playful glint in his eyes.  

"Exactly! Plus, I'll just have to practice more for our next gaming session." Yunho and San's friendship traced back to their teenage years, they bonded over shared interests and endless hours of gaming together. Initially, they started their YouTube journey with a joint channel, where they showcased their gaming prowess and took on various challenges. However, as time passed, San's creative aspirations blossomed, and he yearned to explore more artistic avenues through his vlogs. Recognizing this, they made the mutual decision to branch out and create separate channels, each tailored to their individual passions. Yunho's channel became a haven for gaming enthusiasts, where he could delve deep into his love for video games and connect with like-minded viewers. Meanwhile, San's channel emerged as a platform for his artistic expression, showcasing his unique perspective through visually captivating videos and thought-provoking content. 

"I’ve been working on the vlog from our trip to Rome " San shifted the conversation, his tone filled with excitement. "And my favourite shots are with you... " The truth was, fame held a certain fear for you, and the thought of being recognizable sent unpleasant shivers down your spine. It wasn't that you didn't support San's endeavors or take pride in his accomplishments; rather, the idea of stepping into the spotlight yourself felt daunting. San, ever understanding and considerate of your feelings, made a conscious effort to respect your privacy. He never mentioned you in any of his content, carefully safeguarding your relationship from the prying eyes of fame. Three years had passed, and San's desire to share your love with the world had only grown stronger. Despite accumulating a treasure trove of videos featuring you two together, he had refrained from posting them out of respect for your privacy. Yet, deep down, he had a silent hope that one day, he could introduce you to his audience, showcasing the beauty of your love. The thought of sharing your journey with others filled him with excitement and anticipation, a dream he held dear to his heart. 

"San..." you sighed softly, feeling a mix of apprehension and affection at his words. 

"I know, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with understanding. "I know you’re scared, but it’s just... I really want to show you off in my art." In these words, a gentle plea echoed. While the thought of being exposed to the world still made you nervous, you couldn't deny the sincerity and love in his words. San didn't see you as a mere subject for his videos; he viewed you as a muse, an integral part of his creative expression. "You know I won’t let anyone hurt you"  

"I know," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with gratitude for his unwavering protection. "I trust you completely." With his reassurance echoing in your mind, you took a deep breath and met his gaze, allowing yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. In his eyes, you found a place where fear dissolved into the warmth of his love. 

"Okay, San," you whispered softly, "Let's do it." San's sweet laugh filled the air, in one swift motion, he enveloped you in his arms and lifted you off the ground, spinning you around in a whirlwind of happiness. 

"I can't believe you finally agreed!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with delight. Caught up in the moment, you couldn't help but laugh along with him, feeling a surge of exhilaration and contentment coursing through your veins. In his embrace, you found courage and reassurance. "I love you so much," San whispered tenderly, his voice carrying the weight of his affection as he gently set you back down on the ground. With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, drawing you in for a sweet and lingering kiss. After pulling out of the kiss, San wasted no time and immediately started recording. Surprised and a bit flustered, you couldn't help but laugh at his spontaneity.  

"What are you doing?" You chuckled, trying to compose yourself as he aimed the camera at both of you. 

"I'm not letting this moment slip away," he replied with a grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Hi, everyone," he addressed the camera, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I couldn't wait any longer to introduce you to someone very special to me." And as he spoke those words, a mixture of emotions swirled within you— anticipation, nerves, but above all, a deep sense of love and appreciation for the man standing before you. With San by your side, you felt ready to embrace whatever the future held, knowing that your love would guide you through every adventure, on and off camera. 

[lamoreelovi]

Shion Madarame x Virgin F! Reader

Warning: Passionate sex, lots of cum, cockwarming, pussy eating, mentions of reader getting pregnant, first time, aftercare, nicknames such as babygirl, my beloved and such will be used.

A/N: To my followers here, I am so sorry for not posting omg, just finished our school year and this week was filled with too many dramas and events for me to be able to write smuts again but I'M BACK‼️The gif reminds me of Shion, Idk why, but I hope you guys like this one, I legit still can't get over Tenjiku arc.

Shion seems like a bad boy, he is. Considering how he's a part of Tenjiku and one of the Four heavenly kings at that. But y'know, when you started dating him, you would've expected to get an abusive boyfriend. One that would beat you up and often go to clubs to fuck other women while you watch them, but things were not what you expected and you were glad it wasn't. Shion was the damn opposite of abusive, greedy, and disgusting. He was heavenly, kind, sweet and considerate. Like how he knows you just finished your finals exam today so he took the extra time, skipping his Tenjiku meeting just to help you relax. Even though you rejected his offer and insisted to let him go back to his meeting, he was also stubborn. One of his bad yet good qualities with you. And since you were the kind girlfriend you are, you couldn't say no to your handsome boyfriend.And that's what led you here, on your bed, legs spread and his head in between. His tongue was lapping and sucking on all the juices your pussy would release. This was heaven for you and it was also for him. Your back arched as you grip the sheets underneath you.

"S-Shion.. s'too good.."

You moan out, your voice almost whimpering and cracking due to how intense he ate you out.

"Baby.. keep moaning for me like that.. moan my fucking name, baby.."

Shion spoke lowly, his voice was deep and seductive yet muffled due to being in between your legs

"M'gonna cum, Shion.. oh my god.."

Once you said that he immediately stopped. He pushed himself away from your dripping pussy that was now clenching on air and he stood up from kneeling while you whimpered frustratedly

"Shion.. why.."

You croak out in a small voice, he chuckles and looks at you with list and hunger as he unbuckles his pants and removes his boxers, springing free his hard cock that was already dripping with precum. His cock seemed very enticing, it was big, really big, 8 inch and built like a damn coke can, he had a set of properly trimmed hairy balls that made it all the more sexier. The veins popped out of it and you can see it twitching

"Like what you see, Babygirl..?"

He gave a smug look, chuckling as he pulls you to the edge of the bed, your lower body dangling as he holds your thighs to keep you steady

"Mm, Shion, I.. wait.."

You told him to wait for a moment, he does so and raises his left eyebrow slightly

"Scared, baby?"

"No.. I'm not.. It's just.. I'm.. a virgin.. and this is going to be my first time so please.."

"i know, my beloved, I got you, I'll be nice and gentle hm? You just relax, m'kay?"

Shion asked so nicely that even though you were scared you felt slightly more at ease now. You knew he wasn't going to go nice and gentle, well, not until you finally beg him to go hard and fast. Shion hovered over you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands grip your hip to keep you balance and steady. He looks you in the eyes and smiles softly, he finally aligns himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in.He was so big, just the tip already felt like you were full, you whined, sharply gasping as you scratch his back due to the pain.

"It hurts, shion.."

Shion showers you with small affectionate kisses on your neck and face to distract you from the pain

"Shh... It's okay, just relax.."

He continues to shower you with kisses as he finally pushes his whole length in you. You gasp softly at the feeling of your pussy being full of him

"S-so.. f-fucking tight, baby.. relax.."

Shion groaned at how tightly you clenced around his cock, he started moving, a slow pace to help you adjust to him. You could feel your gummy walls clenching around him, you could feel every vein on his dick as he thrusts slowly and gently. He continues his slow pace for a few minutes till you finally tap him two times on his bare chest and he finally moves faster.You moan louder as he starts pounding into you, his cock reaching spots you never knew were even there, your head leans back on the pillow and your eyes also roll back, your hands gripping his arms tightly as he continues pounding your wet pussy"Shion... Gonna cum.. please let me cum.."You felt your stomach tie into a knot as you felt your orgasm near, he groaned and spoke with a growl"Cum on my cock, baby, I'm about to cum too.."He growls as he lifts your legs up his shoulders and into a mating press, you moan loudly at the new feeling as you felt him go deeper than last time if it were even possible.

"B-baby.. let me cum inside, hm? Let me get you pregnant, baby.. wanna see you with my babies."

You were fucked out at this point. You could hear him but could barely manage to let out a response so you nod eagerly, only letting out moans of 'yes please and mhm, yes, just like that.'

As you nod, Shion groans loudly and thrusts sloppily yet faster as he feels you come undone around his cock and he stops and finally cums inside you, his seed spilling inside your womb as you both pant heavily

"I love you, my sweet girl.."

"I love you too, Shion.."

And as you both say your declaration of love to each other, he carries you to the middle of the bed, he lays himself and lets you sleep on his chest. He gives one last kiss on your forehead before he also closes his eyes, embracing you contentedly

I wanna give a shout out to my fav smut creators:

@anonimusunnoaniswriting

@witchywcmans