#so if he sees me listening! he'll know i haven't! but i also don't think he follows me?

[carnasnow]

My dad doesn't usually say anything about *that*, but it's Pride Month so I guess it was to be expected. Super annoying to hear your parent rant about this 'bullshit' when you're aroace. I have to restrain myself to not reply because I am absolutely *not* in a position where I can be kicked out.

I'm just glad he waited until we were like what? 15? At least for me, before he started ranting about those things. Made it possible to have my own opinion on things and not become like him :D Also made it really weird when he started ranting about the whole Pride thing, kinda like a slap in the face? Like 'oh, okay, you think like that too'. Sigh

I really don't want to argue with him because first of all, I suck at it, and second of all idek if he'd listen to me, so listening and not saying anything it is.

#him saying that his old country (the one he's from) and this one are the same in the end #as of his old country wasn't literally destroyed by war #gotta be honest #in the past i used to listen to him and not really question what he was saying #but then i started thinking more and more about what he was actually saying and..m #he's got a lot of things wrong lmao #so anyway i don't really believe much of what he says now #for finance and all yeah cause he knows those things of course #but history and social stuff in general? nope #gonna educate myself on my own #ANYWAY for real this time #i just had to vent a little because god knows these rants of his annoy me #also so annoying that i have to switch tv stations whenevet they mention Pride and more because i know he'll get angry #and i am not in the mood for that #if anyone who i haven't answered yet sees this pls know that i will soon

[elytrafemme]

today might be a lyric posting on main kinda day

#nightmare.personal #GF said she was excited to see me later and sent me a heart and a smiley emoji #and it's the PINK hearts which I think in her heart rankings I learned last May that's a good thing? #but maybe purple is better but like why would she make me the worse one compared to what she made my ex #that doesn't make any sense also did i mention that my ex's first kiss i think was with my current girlfriend #i feel like this is some ruse but i was the one who pitched the date so nothing bad is going to happen but i don't think she likes me? #like i don't think my girlfriend actually likes me because i haven't seen her in forever #like i didn't see her at ALL yesterday and i mean i had to mediate an argument with her and my other friend #and that was like a week ago and we definitely spoke after that but i think she still remembers #and i HAVE to look good today but it's really cold outside so i don't know how to impress her #because I don't know what traits about me that she actually LIKES and that's like so difficult? #because I don't know what i need to play up to get her to really like me she isn't giving me ANYTHING #does she think i'm attractive? does she think i'm smart? does she think i'm kind? like WHAT IS IT. #because if i don't KNOW then i have to just be me and that's not going to work! #dating is so fucking difficult what the hell i'm going to explode #maybe I do my makeup today OOH I COULD PAINT MY NAILS #maybe that iwll make me better #no but then i have to hide the nails from my mom God dammit. #oh and i can't listen to music because my brother wants me to change my spotify username!!! #so if he sees me listening! he'll know i haven't! but i also don't think he follows me? #i don't think i like my brother very much #i keep trying to decide if there's something wrong with me and honestly i'm not so sure i think there isn't #but the fact i said that will make you think there is so there's no point anyway

[cherubfae]

Omg hi! I'm a new follower and I just read your piece of the hazbin cast w/ reader having a panic attack and it was so sweet 🥺If possible could you maybe do the same cast of characters but with what they would do if the reader was on their period/period comfort?

Awww, thank you! yes!! Of course!! ☺️💘✨

taking care of you on your period || hazbin x reader

With Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, and Vox

tags: fluff, comfort, afab gn!reader, I decided to go with ftm for angel in this to try it out (lmk what you think!!) :3, periods in Hell are worse than on Earth I feel like that fits, suggestiveness in luci's || Minors don't interact!

Alastor

"Oh, dear, why are you curled up on the floor in the fetal position? Are you hurt? I smell blood." Alastor coos in crackling static. He nods his head, listening to you explain despite you being facedown in said carpet. He'll procure a hot water bottle for your tummy, some aspirin, and some bitter, dark chocolate. He'll even go get one of those sugary iced coffees you love so much. Given the circumstances, Alastor may even allow you to touch his ears, but his mindful of his antlers if you know what's good for you.

Lucifer

Oh no, his poor sweetheart! The King of Hell goes full Mama Goose mode (you can see where Charlie gets it from) and hunts down whatever he thinks you may need. He'll create a little nest fort for you, spooning you from behind and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He's also not opposed of other ways of relief. In Lucifer's own wise words, "Bow-chick-a-wow-wow." (As long as you're up for it, he's not opposed to giving Charlie a sibling.)

Charlie

She's on it instantaneously! Running around scavaging all sorts of items from tampons to pads to candies-- she's not sure of your preferences, so she gets all of them! Only the best for her sweetie pie!! Huddles extraaaa close to you in your shared blanket cocoon, feeding you chocolates and giving you sweet nuzzles.

Vaggie

Immediately sends you off for a hot bath while she changes and washes the sheets so that they're nice, warm, and fresh. She also will prepare your favorite pajamas and snacks, digging through some films for one to watch. Vaggie will do what she can to make sure you're well-rested, hydrated, and most importantly; comfortable.

Husk

Immediately goes to the women of the hotel and asks about what sort of toiletries the hotel has to offer. He's discreet about your situation and grateful for their help. He wants you to feel better as soon as possible even if that means your symptoms haven't fully gone away yet! The scent of blood is strong on you and if he can notice you from a mile away, he's certain others have too. So, he creates a little nest for you two, the bar is closed down for the day, and cuddles you close to his chest.

Angel Dust

He'll spoon you from behind, resting his warm hand on your tummy. From what Cherri has told him, this shit's worse than when you guys were alive. Hell really does have a hard-on for torturing people. Angel will be as vigilant as he can, getting you whatever you may need, reassuring you gently that just because you have your period doesn't change who you are as a person nor how you idenitify. You're you, no matter what your body does or doesn't do.

Vox

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

What's that? Oh, shit, that's when you-- yeah? Oh, okay got it. That sounds like that sucks. Yeah, he doesn't mind grabbing some things for you but he's a bit stiff when it comes to comfort. He knows what it is for sure and he'll do his best. Velvette might tear him a new asshole. He does genuinely want you to feel better, he doesn't like seeing you in pain. He's just a little lost.

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin imagines #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #vox x reader #cherubfae 2024

[angelltheninth]

Spiderverse Characters Save You But You Don't Know Their Identity

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhnakar x Reader

Tags: fluff, secret identity, flirting, crushes, save/rescue situation, hand kisses, awkwardness, cheek kiss

A/N: That Pavitr scene cracked me up so good I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

Peter would be so angry at you, getting into danger like that. Of course he can't let you know he's your co-worker while he's telling you this but he can be as firm as can be. He leaves you in an alleyway so you can find your way back easily after he makes sure you're not hurt. There's a lot of people he saved that that but for a reason you can't place he seemed so worried about you, as was Peter B. Parker later when you met up with him and told him about the photos you took.

Miles doesn't know how to behave around you so he's very nervous and fumbly, a bit of a mess and a sharp contrast to the hero that just saved you. He reminds you of someone but you can't seem to quite place it. With the danger and adrenaline still running through your system you're happy to thank your hero giving him a quick thank you kiss on the cheek, which seems to freeze him in place as he hears the offer. When he leans over you're so quick he almost follows your lips when you pull back.

Gwen is awkward the first few times it happens because she's not sure how to act around her crush when she's being your savior. Her hold seems to always linger on you a little bit longer then needed the more she relaxes around you, eventually ending your encounters with a kiss on the hand and a bit of a flirtier tone around you, just you, no one else she's ever saved. It's not hard for you to figure out she has a crush on you but you know you can't ask for her number, you have your work cut out for you in trying to find out who she is if you wanna date the person under the mask.

Miguel sets you down a bit to early for your liking and he himself notices this. If you want to see him you don't have to put yourself in danger to do so, a cutie like you, he could make some time in between patrols for you. Wait, really? He was joking you know, a relationship with a hero like him can be dangerous. Or do you like danger? Honestly he would rather you wouldn't, he likes you too much to let anything happen to you. You don't know it of course but you remind him of someone from his dimension, someone very dear at one point.

Hobie is really flirty with you but that's just to distract you about the fact that he reminds you of a certain guitarist you sometimes listen to. Laying on the charm is easy for him, it also masks the pain he feels when he sees you in danger, or that you were in danger. Sadly there's no way he can just tell you to stay away, he knows you too well, knows how stubborn you are. But so is he. Of course he knows you'll be there when action is taking place and of course he'll be looking for you in a crowd, just in case you need saving.

Pavitr becomes a mess almost instantly, at first really happy then suddenly trying to be cold and distant. It doesn't work of course because you're his crush and he can't as much as he tries to separate his feelings for you in and out of costume. He even makes a huge mistake and kisses your hand as he leaves, cursing himself afterwards because he didn't get this far with you with his real identity yet. Well, there's always next time, if he can ask you on a proper date.

#peter b parker x reader #miles morales x reader #gwen stacy x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse fluff #spiderman fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanons #marvel fluff #marvel x you #peter b parker fluff #miles morales fluff #gwen stacy fluff #miguel o'hara fluff #hobie brown fluff #pavitr fluff #x reader

[swe3tte4rs]

Batifamily headcanons feeling jealous about their siblings spending more time with Batmom? Or something like that, however you like to write it 🙊

" Jealousy jealousy " - Batmom!Reader x Batkids

Author's note: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR (late)!!! Love this 🫶. And I feel like this request is VERY my AU!!! Dah, who wouldn't compete for the love of their sweet and loving mother!? (The hatred between them began when Bruce had to set schedules for each one so they wouldn't fight for Batmom's attention... joke)

Also I am very sad, because when I was responding to this kind of request and I saved it as a draft, it was deleted 😭!!! CRYING 💔💔!!! On top of that, I loved the request, it was beautiful 😭! It was about Batmom as Bruce's couple and Bruce introduces Batmom to the batkids... And if it was you who sent it 🫵, let me tell you that I loved it and it will take me a while to upload it 💓!! Lov you all

And (I almost forgot to mention this), This AU of the batfamily is a mix of comics, series, headcanons (I LOVE headcanons of batfamily 💗), video games, movies and webtoon! + My main language is not English, so if you find any spelling mistakes, tell me in a comment!

Request opens 💗💗!!! BUT, before you request anything check my rules.

Dick Grayson / Nightwing

Honestly, I don't see him being jealous of his brothers at all! But since I haven't read all of his comics and in this AU he is a mix, I don't have an opinion. 👀

Let us begin.

I feel like Dick is a real mama's boy, he love his mom and he will prove it.

Dick is very used to having all of Batmom's attention to himself.

But he hides his jealousy very well, or so he thinks…

Jealousy began when Dick started having siblings. DON'T DENY ME GIRL ��🤝!!!

When he gets jealous that you spend more time with, I don't know, he'll go to sleep with you and Bruce, but leaving Bruce aside and enjoying your caresses in his hair while he listens to his siblings complain from outside the bedroom. (Bruce hate this, but I feel that at the same time he love it just a little bit. Very little.)

Possibly he will also rub things you did with him that you didn't do with your other children in his siblings' faces.

I think he is the only one (along with Jason) who has a complete album with photos of him as a child. So he'll show it off to others by saying that you loved him so much that you made an entire photo album of him.

He would do the same with Jason, telling him that his album has more photos and with more photos of you and Dick.

I feel like he would start a whole fight against one of his brothers just to carry all the shopping bags by himself so you don't do it. (This idea is similar to "Jason Todd is a total mama's boy" because I was inspired by it, so credit to its respective author 💓)

"Mommy, did you just call me Damian? Oh my god... my heart..." #atotaldramaqueenbaby💋💋👊👊

Jason Todd / Red Hood

Another drama queen...

A mama's boy from head to toe. (My poor baby just needed a fucking mother figure 😭💔)

He is first in everything. Do you need help opening a jar? He already opened it for you and said I love you and then left and returned to a mission.

But that's not what we're talking about right now... Nonono, we're talking about jealousy, guys...

I bet he's the most sensitive of all.

He makes sure you don't show favoritism to anyone, unless it's him, if so he lets it go.

Did you spend an extra minute with one of your other children because you didn't see the time? He is already burning in a pit of jealousy.

I feel like he would start fighting with his sibling and then he would apply the law of silence to you. But it doesn't last long because he can't resist your cute nicknames and your "you're my favorite" (you say that to each of your babies)

"Why do you call him "son"? He isn't even your son!" And he gives you a whole long speech when you were just trying to be nice to Roy.

He even gets jealous of Bruce.

He doesn't care if it's one of his sisters or a good friend of his, you can't call them cute nicknames! And even less if they are the ones you use with him!

He has good hearing, he makes sure that you call him by his nicknames and not by one of his siblings' nicknames.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MA?! Why are you washing Tim's hair with the shampoo you use with me!?!?" You broke him...

Tim Drake / Red Robin

( I haven't read almost anything by Tim, so forgive me if something doesn't add up, but I promise you that I already have more or less what his personality is like.)

Tim does not admit his jealousy, he is calmer compared to his brothers.

He might start scheduling his patrols to coincide with Batmom’s free time, ensuring that he gets to spend some time with her.

I feel like he would feel more insecurity than jealousy

But I also think he would try to take Batmom's attention away from his sibling by calling Batmom to help him do something he can easily do alone.

He wouldn't care if you treated his friends like your children. I think he would be happy.

Umh Well… I think there's not much to jealousy about this one...

Damian Wayne / Robin

Yes, I headcanon that Damian is one of the most jealous once he realizes that Batmom can give him the love that Talia didn't give him.

He is the same as Jason, he has the same percentage of jealousy.

The only thing is that he would start making arguments about why Batmom would have to spend the whole week with him and not with her brothers.

Oh, and he doesn't care what Bruce does with Batmom. Although he is disgusted by the slightest affection they have.

At galas, I feel like he would be glued to you, hugging your waist and making sure there is no threat.

If you're not patrolling, he'd be with you watching some movie. (I DON'T KNOW WHY I IMAGINED HIM WATCHING MEAN GIRLS)

"I say mom Is going to go with me first because I'm the best-" And then he was interrupted by his siblings.

There is a relationship of hate and equality between him and Jason…

"Don't you see that my mother has an engagement ring and I'm next to her, son of a- *you interrupt him*" I feel like he would say this to anyone who flirts with you.

He is not understanding why his siblings get to spend more time with her.

Mama's boy

I would continue writing, but I have no more inspiration and ideas, sorry...

Cassandra Cain / Orphan

WHY DID SHE PUT THAT NAME BRO???

Cassandra, being the quiet and observant one, might internalize her feelings of jealousy.

Cass is the last one to get jealous, honestly.

She understands that Batmom loves them all equally and there is no favoritism.

Although sometimes she doubts…

She would feel excluded every time she sees you spend more time with one of her siblings.

But putting that behind, she would know that you love them all equally and would let it go by speaking with you how she feels.

0,1% jealous.

Stephanie Brown / Spoiler

Depends…

I think she would feel jealous if Batmom shows favoritism towards others.

In itself, I don't think Steph is VERY jealous. Just... a little bit.

Duke Thomas / The Signal

I need to read more about this man 😭

He's the newest one in the batfam, but he was still able to connect with Batmom very well.

Duke is not one to be jealous, he just doesn't care what batmom does.

Although he is a similar case to Cass.

He would feel a little "insecure" seeing the ties Batmom has with his siblings.

But it always ends well with Batmom watching a movie with him.

[You can put more headcanons in a comment if you like!! And suggestions are always welcome <3]

#🍓୧ ‧₊˚ Request answered! ⋅ ✮⋆˙ #batmom #jason todd is a mama's boy #batfamily #batmom reader #batmom imagine #batfam x reader #red hood x reader #nightwing x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #batfam #idk what else to tag

[earlgreyflowers]

39. we’re not just friends and you know it with max x teammate!best friend! reader. please and thank you!

A/N time for some Max appreciation besties <3

----------------------------------------------

Max was starting to think he was the most readable person on earth, with every single member of the paddock seemingly pointing out how obvious his crush on you was.

"Dude, your eyes are literally always on them." Daniel laughs, nudging Max with his elbow as they walk. Max feels a blush rise to his cheeks, "Are they? I haven't noticed." He mutters, his eyes glued to your figure as you talk to GP in the Red Bull garage. Daniel shakes his head, following Max's eye line to meet the shape of you, now waving at your best friend. Max breaks out in a large grin, waving back at you before speeding up to join you sooner.

"He's so obvious." Charles says, rolling his eyes at his childhood rival. "We need to get involved." Daniel states, "Let him know that we all know, and to make a goddamn move already before someone else does." Charles nods in agreement, "I'll let Carlos know the plan."

Daniel smiles, "Perfect, he'll tell Lando and then Lando will tell everyone."

"I'll tell everyone what?" Lando asks, appearing from nowhere. "That Max is in love with Y/N." Charles explains, watching Max interact with you. "Oh been there, done that. I told everyone like two weeks ago, catch up guys." Lando explains, leaving the two smirking that their plan was apparently already in action.

It's a week later when Lando brings the subject up to Max. They're out playing padel, and you're sat on a bench with a book, soaking up the sun and attempting to ignore the yells of Lando and Alex. Lando and Max are stood by the net, casually chatting whilst George and Alex get some water. "So, do you like Y/N or something?" He asks, head tilted at Max as he fumbles his words trying to respond.

"Why would you think that? Me and Y/N? What? How could you think that?" He blurts, hand scratching the back of his neck as he avoids eye contact with Lando, eyes glancing over to you to make sure you're not listening. "You keep staring at her like you're in love with her man, all heart-eyes and gross." Lando explains, causing Max to scoff out a nervous laugh as George and Alex rejoin them.

"Are you talking about Y/N?" Alex asks, smiling when Max gets impossibly more flustered. "So you can all tell then?" Max asks, nervousness overtaking his tone. "Yes, you look at her like she created the universe," George says, "And also you look like you want to kill us whenever we speak to her." He concludes, eyebrows raising at Max in an accusatory manner.

"I need to tell her don't I?" He asks, a resounding yes coming from the group.

The thought of telling you how he felt was eating Max up inside, making him cold and distant towards you. Every weekend you could be you were in the Red Bull garage, a large 33 sprawled across your back as you cheered him on. Max barely acknowledge you during these weekends, instead insisting that he's not happy with the performance of the car and needs to focus on being faster. You roll your eyes, "Sure, you've won 8 races in a row but you need the car to be faster. I'm not stupid Max." You tell him before leaving the paddock without him and heading back to the hotel.

Max sits in the garage glumly after you leave, cowering away from the disappointed head shakes that Daniel sends his way after he sees you leave. He doesn't register anything until he finds himself outside your hotel door, hand raised ready to knock. Before he can make contact with the wood of the door it swings open, revealing his very mad best friend, you.

"I know you're mad at me, please let me in and I can explain." Max grovels, eyes wide with sadness as he pleads for you to humour him. You say nothing, stepping aside and letting him walk in, his shoulders visibly relaxing at your kindness. You sit on the edge of your hotel bed, watching as Max paces the room. You want to stand and help him, bury yourself in his chest until he calms down but you need him to explain himself.

"Did I do something?" You ask quietly, Max halting in his movements. "No, no Y/n you could never do anything." He says, standing in front of you. His hand rests under your chin, tilting your head towards him. He stares down at you, an unrecognisable glint in his eye.

"Then why have you been so distant with me Max? I just- I can't do this." You explain, eyebrows crinkling in worry. "Do what?" He asks, thumb swiping gently back and forth against your chin as he forces you to look at him. "I can't lose my best friend." Max's eyes close at your words, jaw clenching. "That word." He murmurs, frustration seeping into his tone, "I hate that word."

"What word? Lose?" You ask, confusion growing by the minute. Max takes a deep breath, "Friend." He tells you, your heart dropping at his words.

"We're not just friends, and you know it." He explains, "You know that you are the greatest thing to ever happen to me, my support system. Yes, you are my best friend, of course you are. I could never picture my life without you by my side, but that's not because you're my best friend. It's because I'm in love with you."

Your eyes widen at his words, smile creeping over your lips. "I knew telling Lando would work." You laugh, "He can't keep his mouth shut." Max looks at you in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I told Lando how much I liked you, how much I loved you, and he told me to leave to him, clearly whatever he did worked." You smile, watching as Max mirrors the same smile. "You're lucky I love you, je nachtmerrie." You giggle at his words, "Say it again." You request, voice dropping to a whisper as Max leans in.

"I love you schatje."

His pillowy lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, your stomach churning with pleasure as you slip your hand behind his neck. He follows your lead, deepening the kiss and swirling his tongue with your own. You surrender yourself to him, allowing his tongue to dominate your own as he leans toward you. He breaks his lips from yours before attaching them to your neck, sucking and biting as he explores your body.

You feel the vibrations of his soft groans against your skin, relishing in the fact that he can finally touch you the way he's always wanted. "Been waiting so long for this dropje, can I do everything I've been thinking of?" He asks, kneeling down in front of you as his hands slide under your hoodie. You nod, smiling at your best friend as he lifts your hoodie. He licks his lip, trapping at between his teeth with a muted groan as he sees the lack of bra underneath your clothes.

"So pretty, my god." He mutters, lips meeting the soft skin in between your breasts before traveling over the mounds. His large hands encompass your chest, kneading and squeezing your tits as his tongue swirls around your nipples. You whimper at the feeling, expressing your pleasure with a hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to continue. Your nipples are hard from a combination of his tongue and the cool air circulating the room, your back arching at the tingly pleasure shooting down your spine.

His lips trail down your stomach, leaving a wet line cooled by the breeze, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Max's fingers edge into the band of your shorts, tugging them down. He groans at the lack of underwear there too, evidence that you had showered when you got back from the track. Max places kisses on your inner thighs, smirking when your muscles clench at the feeling of his lips. He admires the way your pussy glistens under the light of your lamp, the sheen of wetness making his mouth water.

He licks his lips before hovering closer to your core, the tickle of his breath causing your walls to clench around nothing. Max groans at the movement, "Are you desperate schatje?" You whine at his question, bucking your hips toward his face.

"Please Max, need you."

He smirks at your whiny tone before flattening his tongue against your pussy, using the muscle to split open your folds. He moans against you at the taste, his tongue swirling around your clit. You watch as he pulls his face away, a string of your juices connecting his lips to you. His eyes have darkened beyond recognition, lust clouding his senses. Max dives back in, tongue flicking and sucking every inch that it can reach.

He pays attention to what makes you moan louder, what makes your walls clench and your thighs tighten around his head. He's certain that he could die a happy man between your legs, drowning in the sweet juices that coat his tongue. He seals his lips around your clit, sloppily slurping and sucking as you squirm above him. The tip of his finger swirls around your wetness, soaked now in both arousal and spit just like Max's chin.

He feels the way your pussy jumps at his touch, slipping his finger in gently, curling it up against your g-spot. The moan you let out his heaven to Max's ears, his cock throbbing in his jeans as he seeks friction for the ache.

"Fuck Max, you're gonna make me cum." You whine, hand raking through Max's hair as you pray he never stops. He groans louder at the force of your hand against his head, doubling his efforts until all that can be heard in the room are your moans and the wet sounds of his tongue between your legs. He flicks his tongue as fast as he can, ignoring the burn in his jaw and the need to breathe as he gets smothered by your thighs. He's rewarded when your orgasm hits, flooding his tongue with the taste of you as your hips flinch in sensitivity.

Max stands from the bed, quickly ridding himself of his clothes. In your hazy state you still manage to admire him, the thickness of his thighs, the bulging muscles in his arms, his toned stomach. But it's the soft smile on his face that you can't help but reciprocate that sends butterflies floating in your tummy and a shiver down your spine.

He clambers back onto the bed, leaning on his elbows above you. Max's lips slot against your own, the faint taste of your cum making its way into your mouth with every swirl of his tongue. Your soft hand wraps around the base of his cock, slowly sliding up before swiping your thumb over the weeping tip. You bring your thumb up to your mouth, sucking it into your mouth and relishing in the salty taste of his precum.

Max's eyes widen at the sight, practically whimpering at the realisation his biggest wet dream is coming true. "You're amazing," he utters, voice thick with desire. "Please tell me I can fuck you schatje, I need to feel you." You barely grace him with a verbal answer, grasping his cock and guiding him towards your entrance.

He thrusts himself forward, his thick tip stretching your walls. Your back arches at the mixture of pleasure and pain, eyes fluttering shut. Max's head drops down to your shoulder, body shuddering with a groan as he feels the warmth of your pussy.

"I've wanted this for so long, dreamt of it so many times," He whispers against your skin, sucking a purple mark as he bottoms out. Your walls encase him like a vice, his eyes practically rolling with every slow grind of his cock into your pussy. Your legs wrap around his hips, encouraging his deep strokes, nails scratching against his muscular shoulders.

You're surrounded by Max, his scent clings to you as he fills you up, feeling him in the depths of your stomach with each thrust. You slip your hand between the two of you, rubbing against your swollen clit as the wet noises of your pussy echo through the room. Max frowns at the feeling of your hand bumping his stomach.

He leans back from his position crouched over the top of you, knocking your hand from your pussy and making you whine. "Max please." You beg, desperate to cum one more time.

"I know, I know, but you have me know you don't need to do that." He explains, splaying his large hand across your stomach, his thumb dipping down to swipe against your clit. His rhythm increases, thrusting harder and faster into you, your arousal spilling out around his cock. "Cum for me schatje come on, not gonna stop until you do." Max mutters, hitting that spot inside you with every drag of his hips.

Your jaw drops and your eyes roll as your orgasm washes over your body, goosebumps covering your skin in its wake. Max barely lasts long enough to prolong your orgasm before he pulls out, stroking his cock until white ropes of cum splash over your stomach. He groans with each pulse, his arm dropping as he struggles to hold himself up.

He slips off the bed, returning with a towel from the bathroom to clean you up. He sidles up next to you, bundling you up in his arms, encasing you in his warmth.

"I love you, always have." He whispers, assuming your deep breaths as a sign of sleep, a smile gracing his face as you cuddle deeper into him.

Thanks for the help, is the text Lando receives before Max goes to sleep

No problem, heard it went well for you, is the reply Max sees when he wakes up.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #smut prompts #smut requests #smut writing #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #mv33 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv33 #mv1 #mv33 smut #mv1 smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you

[ginevrapng]

studying with your boyfriend is something you love but also hate. he's a great teacher and explains everything that you don't understand or that professors haven't explained to you the right way for you to understand but you also don't like studying with neville because he's so hot when he's tutoring you that it's distracting.

the whole time neville will be trying to help you with your exam next week you'll be wanting to snog him and find a quiet and dark place in the library to suck his dick.

"are you listening flower?" he asks when you haven't made any input to the conversation. honestly you're not, you're watching the way his eyebrows furrow as he crosses out a misspelling and how he's rolled his jumper up to his forearms. his lip is slightly jutting out and you want to reach over to him and grab his face and kiss him until you're both dizzy.

he looks over to you to see you staring at his lips and smirks. he knows that look on you well. "not now petal, we've got to get this all done," he tells you softly but sternly.

you really should listen, you know he's right but you can't pay attention when he's looking so attractive. "nev please, i need you so bad," you whine, hoping he'll give in and forget about the exam in favour of making out with you.

neville looks back up from his work to you and sighs starting to get exasperated with those puppy dog eyes and pleading words. "i said no."

some people in gryffindor still think of neville as this clumsy, shy and timid boy but he's changed, so when your boyfriend talks like that it's hard to go against him so you shut your mouth, at least for awhile.

neville sees your antsy behaviour and distracted self and decides to do something about it. "you're so needy petal, can't even spend a few hours concentrating without you trying to fuck me."

you pout at him, not realising that you weren't being convincing after he told you to start studying again. "i didn't do anything neville, promise," you say while looking down and playing with the hem of your skirt.

neville follows your eyes and then gets an idea on how to handle his girlfriend. "petal sit on my thigh."

your eyes widen in realisation. "neville we can't do that, not here," you whisper. whipping your head around the library you see that you're the only ones around and you are also in the back of the library but you still believe it to be to dangerous.

"thought you said you were needy?" you bit your lip in thought, he knows what you'll do. "haven't got all day flower." after that you slide out of your chair and stand in front of neville silently asking him where he wants you to sit. "come on, so you're facing me." you shyly nod your head and rest on his thigh.

neville places a delicate kiss on your temple and speaks lowly into your ear, "love you flower." at the same time he grabs hold of your soft hips and starts to drag your body against his thigh.

as you move more against neville's thigh you know that your knickers are getting wetter and they'll probably be a stain on his trousers if this goes on for long.

neville chose this so he could keep working if necessary but he's forgotten all about it. he can't help but drop everything to focus all his attention on you, it's impossible for him not to. he adores you and right now he's getting incredibly hard after hearing your small panting and feeling your doughy skin underneath his big palms. neville simply doesn't know where to look, at your quickly rising and falling chest that's pressed against him or your plush thighs that he can see now that your skirt has ridden up higher or your cute face scrunched up in pleasure.

you've wrapped your arms around neville's neck and you bury your face into his chest every time you feel a particularly loud moan about to leave your mouth. neville pushes some of your hair out of your face as you're beginning to get sweaty and kisses you all over your face.

his trousers get tighter and you increase your pace with the help and guidance of neville. your clit gets pressed against him constantly with the friction and you're losing all sense of how to talk. "nev, plea-, i- i feels s'good," you whine.

neville smirks, his whole confident aura is making you fuzzy. "alright petal, i've got you. hold on tightly to my neck." you nod frantically and hold on tighter. he sinks his fingers even deeper into your plush body, definitely leaving bruises. he flexes his thigh again, angles your body in the right way so that every time you move your clit gets stimulation and starts to move your body up and down, completely controlling your pace.

it's been a couple minutes as you start to form a new sentence "neville, i-"

neville already knows you're about to finish, you started clawing his neck and biting your lip harder trying to stifle any noise. "come f'me petal." you do, the coil building inside of you snaps and you see white. neville shoves his tongue in your mouth and kisses you, muffling your moan. your body shivers and you push your body up against his even more.

you take a couple minutes to breathe and afterwards shakily get off of neville. he holds onto your wrist to stabilise you and groans as he sees the aftermath you've left on his trousers. he takes a glance at the table with all your books on and mumbles 'fuck it' and starts shoving both of your work into his bag. neville's heart melts as he looks up to your cute confused face. "let's head back to my room petal." your face lights up as you remove your wrist from his hand and intertwine your fingers together, you start swinging both your hands as you walk out the library.

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #hp x reader #neville longbottom smut #neville longbottom x reader smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter smut #hp smut #neville longbottom x you #boyfriend!neville #neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom x y/n #harry potter x chubby reader #chubby reader #chubby reader smut #♡ neville #♡ mine / writing #neville longbottom x chubby reader #hp x plus size reader #harry potter x plus size reader #hp x reader smut #hp x y/n #hp x chubby reader

[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. 

#hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail x reader #bee writes hsr

[febuary30thday]

Love

Yan! Uppermoons! + Muzan with an affectionate reader!

(Reader who likes giving hugs, kisses, and PDA, stuff like that)

(I'm sorry, but pookie always comes first 😫)

He is eating it up like it's his last meal

He may not be affectionate, but he likes it when you are

He's a major hypocrite

If he's not affectionate and then you take it as him not liking affection and stop, he'll hate it

He will demand an answer and when you explain it to him, he is not understanding

He will yell at you if needed (When he doesn't have your devotion)

He thinks that your affection is a sign of your devotion, and he needs your devotion

He only lets Kokushibo near you

His love language to you is gift-giving and words of affirmation

He'll buy you flowers, praise you, and rope you in

He knows exactly how to rope you in

He gives you punishments, even if you haven't done anything wrong, to test you

He needs you completely devoted to him and your attention only on him

If your attention is on something else, he will emotionally manipulate you, and make you dependent on him and only him

Don't try to resist

He turns you into a demon, so that he can read your thoughts and control you for his own needs

If you listen and stay affectionate, you live happily ish.

If you don't listen..... you don't want to know what happens

"Just stay devoted and love only me, darling, if you do, I'll provide you with the best life you could ever have."

With a man as stoic as him, you'd think he would like affection, right?

Wrong.

It makes him feel weak, and it feels like he's getting soft

The minute he feels weak, is the minute he thinks about Yoriichi, and trust me, that doesn't end well

That's what he thought about affection

Until you won his heart, and became the obsession of his life

The reason he lives, breathes, and becomes more powerful, is because of you

He is a lot more forceful in what he wants, and he is very straightforward about his intentions

He isn't good at emotional manipulation, but he is very good at intimidation, and, what are you going to do?

He loves your affection, and he is very affectionate as well, when he wants to be

He will stop you from whatever you're doing if he wants to kiss you, or cuddle you

DON'T try to stop him

He likes leaving his sword at his feet when he cuddles you, keeping his eye on it, and also showing you how vulnerable he is to you

He knows you love him, but he needs constant reassurance, believe it or not, he's very insecure

He will never admit this

Stay by his side, and he will treat you right

He also does turn you into a demon, because he can't stand the thought of being without you

"I'm completely vulnerable with you right now. I'm showing you my devotion, and I expect you to show me your devotion as well."

He loves it

It's his excuse to always cling to you

He is also affectionate as well, so you two go hand-in-hand

He makes his followers worship you as well, proclaiming that you are a deity, and they listen

He turns you into a demon pretty early when he realizes he wants you

He always keeps you on his lap

He is also very cheeky with his intentions, so sometimes he makes you wear the clothes of his followers

He uses it as an excuse to defile you

He spoils you like crazy

He is soft and gentle with his touches, believing you to be fragile

He treats you like porcelain (Not in the bedroom)

He teases you and is also very flirty

He does love you and will cuddle and coddle you always

As long as you are with him for eternity, he will love you

If he sees any of his male followers looking at you wrongly, he kills them off, despite having no intention to eat them

He makes you dependent on him as well, but also allows you some freedom, he isn't completely restrictive

Believe it or not, Akaza feels pity for you

Douma talks about you every chance he gets, he is very brave and open

Everyone's tired of it

"I love you, snowflake! You should stay with me for eternity! I promise to love you!"

He likes it, but is pretty mellow with his affection

He is very romantic, and also very possessive

He does say you are weak, but he only says that because he wants you to stay with him

He constantly says how he can protect you

He is afraid of losing you, so he appreciates the little things you do as well

Turning you into a demon was his choice, but he does feel a little bad

He hates leaving you alone so he completes his missions quickly

He takes you out, only when he's with you

He does like hugging and kissing you, but doesn't smother you like Douma does

He just likes showing you he loves you

He's trying, give him some time

He's kind of bad at the whole 'being in love thing' but he knows how to express love

He doesn't punish you as often, if at all, he hates doing that

He doesn't use underhand tactics to make you dependent on him, he kind of just does it on accident

He needs you to live, breathe and survive

He does love seeing you happy and would do anything for you

"Please don't leave me. I can't live without you."

#yandere muzan #yandere kokushibo x reader #yandere x reader #yandere akaza #yandere akaza x reader #yandere muzan x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer #yandere demon x reader #yandere #demon slayer #romance #yandere kokushibo #yandere douma x reader #yandere drabble #male yandere #yandere writing #yandere douma #uppermoonkoku #upper moons

[cinellieroll]

☆ random obey me headcanons part 3!

beelzebub, belphegor and solomon ♡

part one (lucifer, mammon and simeon)

part two (asmodeus, levi and barbatos)

part four (satan and diavolo)

cw: slight spoilers again if you haven't played the recent lessons

small note: thank you again for the likes and reblogs. also, happy 20 followers! yippeee :^D also sorry for the delay i was being silly the whole day so..yeah

☆ beelzebub:

- doesn't listen to music that much which is kinda weird like wdym you don't vibe to hard ass beats everytime you work out? on the bright side a cupid playing a harp melody does start playing in his head when he sees food

- some days his resting bitch face goes so hard you think he'll start biting your neck off if you even try to talk to him

- he does a lot of unintentional things it's actually so hilarious. like no he didn't mean to mindlessly draw an icecream on your hand and start licking it. it was an accident! he swears!

- when you cry he tries to cheer you up with jokes but it always end up being horrible because deep down he's panicking inside on what to say. the bitch starts saying "why did the chicken cross the road" jokes while watching you bawl your eyes out with snot bubbling out your nose

- so instead of the horrible jokes he decides to hug you instead while picking you up and gently sways you left to right <3 and during those situations he's willing to do anything you want. you want him to carry you to your room? gotcha. you want him to buy you food from hell's kitchen? he promises he won't eat it. (he actually didn't but you could see his drool staining the paper bag once he gives it to you)

- there was one point in his life where he was the smallest and fattest out of all the brothers when he was still younger. his older bros, especially mammon would always pinch and bite his cheeks because of how he looked <3

- watches hells kitchen while eating food from hells kitchen. mans obsessed with the show

- has dimples and an eye smile

- he likes it when he holds your hand and look at it from time to time. he just likes to see how big it is compared to yours.

☆ belphegor:

- doesn't really use his phone a lot and resorts to watching TV instead so he doesn't have to use his hands

- slept while candy was in his mouth and woke up choking once. safe to say lucifer banned candies for a whole month after that and everyone else was NOT happy.

- since he is the youngest out of all the brothers he's pretty spoiled in a way. he wants to be the one you hang out with the most and if he needs to pull out the moves just so you'll give him cuddles he won't think twice

- "what do you mean you have plans with asmo today? didn't you know? he ditched cooking duty last night and lucifer told me to do the job instead. i deserve your attention more than he does."

- he thought you were attractive the first time you two met

- takes reaction pics. it's mostly him in a dimly lit room with his eyebrow raised or replicating a funny photo of his brothers

- wasn't interested in shows like hells kitchen until he saw you and beel watching it. he occasionally watches drag race too

- during car rides or road trips he always has to be the one in the back just so he could lay down and sleep

- you can't rely on him for notes because it's always covered in drool when he sleeps in class. although he mostly never takes notes at all he just relies on stock knowledge and good memory

☆ solomon:

- he never caught up with the recent trends in the human world so you really had no one to relate or talk to about your favorite shows, songs, etc

- decided to catch up for you anyway. what a sweetie pie ^_^

- a tear rolled down his cheek when raphael confessed that he liked his cooking for the first time.

- when he's drunk he starts singing love songs and starts going on a ramble about how lonely he is when he isn't with you. and yes, his voice WILL crack.

- sometimes he points things with his lips it's SOOOO HOTTTT

- he gets sad when you get suspicious of him when he's doing a nice gesture for you. he's aware that everyone else think he's shady, and he is! but mc, he just wants to do something nice for you!

- he's an asshole and will constantly tease you especially if you guys are seated together in class. he'll write a note on your notebook saying something like "remember when you *insert embarrassing moment here* or will start writing something subtly flirty like "wanna come over after school?"

- he buys you a lot of expensive things out of nowhere. like there was no ocassion whatsoever but he gifted you the recent iphone like what?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #om! swd #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub obey me #om! beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor #belphegor obey me #om! belphegor #obey me solomon #solomon obey me #om! solomon #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #om! headcanons

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Texting them “I need you right now”

Note: hi everyone! So sorry for not posting in months, life wasn't easy on me. I managed to sort things out (hopefully they will stay organised this time, or else I'm starting a new life in Spain), and I plan to write more. I'm also taking commissions again (the financial situation it's not good, so every commission would help me a lot!). Anyway, I haven't written anything since January, so please be kind with me.

He won't see your text right away because he's a busy man. After he has some free time, he checks his phone and immediately opens the chat with you, ignoring everyone else.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"I just don't feel okay. Can you come over?"

The text is demanding, and he knows something is wrong with you, so he tries to finish faster whatever he had planned for that day, which he fails because he is constantly thinking about you. So, he dropped everything and came to you. 

Wesker is a man of his word, so he arrives on time.

"Have you been crying, my love?" he asked as he saw that your eyes were all red and your face was swollen.

"Yeah...petty reason." 

"If it was petty, you wouldn't have called me."

You wasted no time and threw yourself in his arms, sinking into his embrace and burring your face into his chest.

Being busy all the time, you barely see him. Maybe once a month nowadays, and this long wait only contributed to your sadness. You yearned to talk with someone like him because he made you feel safe. You knew he was listening, and you knew he didn't judge. Also, he would comfort you with small kisses and gentle touches and would praise you for being strong.

He moved you to your sofa, made your favourite tea, and listened carefully as you talked about your worries and recent unfortunate events.

During that time, he received a lot of calls and texts, but he turned his phone on silent because his main priority was you.

He hugged you tight, telling you that he'd always be there for you, no matter what. One hand would gently massage your hair, and the other would massage your back. It hurt him so damn much to see you like this and hear you sob in his arms. He wanted to hurt everyone who caused you to end up like this, and he was very vocal about his intentions.

"You can't protect me from the world, Albert. All you can do is be here for me when I need it."

He didn't like your response or agree with your opinion, but for now, he kept you tight to his chest.

He usually stays until you feel better, and then he leaves to do his work. He will be worried all day because you're still on his mind, so he checks on you frequently, promising to take you on a small trip to calm your mind.

The government agent is always busy. He's either stuck in his office completing paperwork, training new recruits, or on a mission on the other side of the globe.

He wasn't away on the field, so when he saw your text, he immediately responded. Even if he was busy doing desk duty or fighting, he would try to respond asap (he will hide in a corner if he had to, if that means he'll get five minutes of peace to text you back because he knows how worried you can get). 

"What's wrong, doll?"

"I don't feel well. Can you come over?"

A pretty demanding text means an urgent need, so he left early, abandoning everything he had scheduled for today. That annoyed some of his superiors, but he got away without much trouble.

Leon tried his best to arrive on time. He was being pressured by time and worry; he drove like a maniac to your place on his motorcycle, but he stopped to buy your favorite sweets.

"I bought you something good," he said, smiling in the doorframe and opening the bag to show the inside. However, his smile dropped. 

"Have you been crying?" he asked, quickly cupping your face and caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. Your face was flushed and very warm to the touch, and your eyes were swollen and teary.

"Yeah...petty reason."

"You don't cry like that for a petty reason," he said as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. You quickly hugged him and burried your nose at the crook of his neck. He hugged you back tight, a trail of kisses caressing your skin, starting from your neck to your face.

He guided you to the bed, where he listened to you and held you tight. His fingers kept brushing over your face, and his lips would occasionally press tiny, affectionate kisses over your skin. His body was glued to yours, and the warmth from such an intimate embrace made you feel safe. You felt safe not only to express your emotions, but you also felt sheltered from the rest of the world.

"You are not alone," he whispered as his hand caressed your back in a gentle manner. "I told you, no matter how hard it gets, we'll find a way to get through it together." 

He usually stays until he makes sure you feel better. After that, he texts you the whole day, asking how you feel because he can't ease his own anxiety. He promised to take you on a vacation.

He noticed your text right away, but he's stuck with his research and can't reply instantly. He will text you back as soon as he can.

"What's wrong, mi bella princesa?"

"I just don't feel okay. Can you come over?"

With much difficulty and a lot of excuses, he manages to leave his laboratory and come to your place.

Upon seeing your red and watery eyes, he quickly came inside and cupped your face.

"Have you been crying?" he asked, worried, his fingers brushing over your warm, red cheeks.

"yeah...petty reasons." You tried your best to smile.

"Querida, you don't cry like that because of petty reasons." He gently kissed your forehead.

He pulled closer to him, and you quickly hugged him, buring your face into his chest. Luis kept kissing you and whispering kind words to help you feel better.

"Just talk to me, ok? There isn't anything in this world that we can't get through."

Despite the firm grip around your body, he managed to caress you with tenderness. His strokes were as delicate as a feather, and every soft kiss felt warm and loving. 

He was so kind and gentle, and his attitude only made you more vulnerable, so you started crying again.

"Please, my love, don't cry. It breaks my heart to see you like this." He whispered.

He guided you to the bed and cuddled with you. His arms were wrapped around your body, and his nose was buried in your hair.

"Is there anything I can do to make it all go away?" He said, hand stroking your back. 

"No, just hold me like this."

It breaks his heart to see you like that, so he kept thinking about making you feel better.

"How about you and I go for a walk?" He said this as his fingers ran through your smooth hair. "Or we can stay here and cuddle; watch that movie you like. I can make something to eat, and we can relax."

"It sounds good," you said, your smile making a shy return. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out."

"it's fine." He pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek. "You know I'm always here for you."

"I know, and I appreciate that." You caressed his face, your fingers exploring every inch, going through his fluffly hair over his beard and over his lips. You two were looking at each other with the same enamoured gaze as in the beginning.

"We can spend some time tomorrow if you want," he added, being enchanted by the shared intimate moment, feeling drawn in by your presence, and wanting to spend more time with you.

"What about work?" you asked.

"Don't worry, as much as I hate it, I will find the lab in the same place I left it today."

Your light chuckle made him feel a little better. Whenever you are sad, he feels his heart shatter into tiny pieces. You mean the world to him, and he'd do anything to protect you.

He was training the new recruits when his phone buzzed in his pocket. After a quick glance, he gave the men a five-minute break so he could respond to you. Jack blames himself for not giving you proper attention since he is always on the field, so when he can, he drops everything and focuses on you entirely.

"What's wrong, beautiful?"

"I don't feel well. Can you come over?"

His subordinates were thrilled to find out that they had the rest of the day off.

He is a punctual man, so he arrives on time and not a minute late, holding a bag with your favourite snacks.

He tried to hide his worry behind a comforting smile. He quickly noticed your puffy face and teary eyes.

"Have you been crying?" he asked in a low tone, coming closer to you. He cups your face and brings you closer to him, pressing small, gentle kisses all over your face. His tenderness was endearing, so much so that warm tears began to drip down your cheeks again.

"It's just...petty reasons." You said it with a trembling voice.

"Bullshit."

He pulled you closer to his chest and held you tight. His hands were stroking your back, his head pressed to yours. His much larger frame swallowed you whole, seeming as if you had disappeared completely.

You felt safe in his arms. It was so warm and comforting, and not only his embrace made you feel this way, but also his reassuring words that he'd whisper constantly.

He carried you to the bed, and as he was sitting close to you, he brushed his fingers over your check and listened closely to what you had to say. It broke his heart to see you like this, and he couldn’t stop asking himself if, if he were there more often for you, you would still end up like this. This type of question tormented him, and you could feel that.

“I’m sorry, maybe it’s a lot too dump on you.” You said this as you caressed his face, your fingers trailing over his scars.

“No, not at all, love.” He took your hand and placed a lingering kiss in your palm. “I just wish I was there for you more often.”

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. The important thing is that you’re here now, and that means a lot to me."

You felt his lips kissing you softly once your head was pressed against his chest. 

He still feels guilty, but it doesn't press over his shoulder as hard anymore. He promised to spend more time with you.

#resident evil #albert wesker #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x you #resident evil 4 remake #luis serra #jack krauser #krauser x reader #wesker x reader #luis serra x reader

[talaok]

I was thinking about the reader having a close guy friend who has a crush on her and it makes pedro jealous and angry that why the reader can't realize it?

pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

warnings: angst, jealousy

"You know, I was thinking that tomorrow we could go to that sushi place you like" Pedro called from the bathroom, as he finished brushing his teeth.

You smiled to yourself as you got into bed before remembering something.

"Tomorrow?" you asked

"yes" He nodded, walking into the bedroom "We haven't gone there in a while"

"It's just...Steve asked me to go out with him tomorrow"

Even if he was turned around, you could see all his muscles tense.

"Steve?"

"yeah," you confirmed, "maybe we could go out the day after tomorrow?"

"Just the two of you?" He ignored your proposal, finally facing you

The question confused you a little bit

"Yup, he said we haven't seen each other in a while and he missed me"

"of course" he chuckled, a trace of bitterness in his tone

"What?" you frowned

"Nothing I'm just wondering if he'll finally use this opportunity to propose"

"What are you talking about baby?"

"oh c'mon you know" 

"no, I don't know" 

He was looking at you as if you had just admitted to not knowing how much 2+2 is.

"y/n listen as much as I'd like to believe you, I know you're way too smart not to know what I'm talking about"

You threw your blanket off your body, suddenly hot.

"Pedro" you stated as calmly as you could "I'm telling you, I have no idea what you're trying to say"

"oh really?" he raised his eyebrows, "you don't know? You don't know why I don't like when you hang out with the same guy who has not missed a single opportunity to tell you how beautiful or amazing or perfect you are? Who texts you 24/7? Who literally comes running whenever you need anything?"

Your mouth was parted but you needed a moment to process his words before being able to come up with some of your own.

"What are talking about?" 

He sighed frustratedly, running a hand through his hair

"I'm talking about the fact that he likes you! That he- actually you know what, I'm talking about the fact that he's in love with you y/n!"

And there it was

It was as if time had stilled, as if the world had stopped spinning.

Why was he getting so angry about this? How long had he been keeping this to himself?

And most importantly-what the actual fuck was he on about?

"Steve is my friend Pedro- I've known him for like six years, just cause he's a good friend doesn't mean he likes me" you sighed "Since when do you get jealous? This is not like you"

"are you serious?" he dropped his hands by his sides "You seriously don't fucking see it?"

"what? What is there to see?" you gestured, getting up from the bed

"y/n he gave you roses on valentines day!" he huffed a laugh raising his head to the ceiling "What friend does that?"

"that-that doesn't mean anything it was just a nice gesture it didn't mean anything"

"of course" he paused a moment before looking at you again, so many emotions clouding his eyes they almost looked a different color "y/n I don't know if you're lying to yourself or if you actually don't see it, but I'm telling you- he likes you"

"wh-" you stuttered, unable to do anything but beg your brain to start working again.

"he looks at you like your an angel sent from heaven y/n" he sighed "and you are, you know that, but I'm the only one who's supposed to feel that way" he said "not- not fucking Steve too"

"he-he's just a friend" you muttered,

you didn't know if you were telling yourself or him anymore

"I know he is" he nodded "but I also know that's not everything he wants to be"

"how-how would you know?"

"Because I'm not blind, baby!" he insisted, getting closer to you "because I would bet a million dollars that if you called him right now and told him you liked him he'd come running!"

"that's not true! We're just friends- he- he doesn't like me that way"

"y/n c'mon!" he groaned "How do you think it makes me feel? To see him drooling over my girlfriend every time we go out?"

"Pedro he doesn't like me!"

"He does! And I'm tired of pretending he doesn't" Frustration was tracing his every word "He needs to get a fucking grip, Someone needs to tell him how things actually are, and if you don't wanna do it then I gladly will"

"what do you even mean?"

"I mean telling him to back off!"

"Pedro I-"

"please-" he stopped you, his voice lower now, more pleading "please don't tell me again that he doesn't like you"

"but-"

"ok how 'bout this" he interrupted you again, "You ask him"

"What?"

"yeah, if you're so sure he doesn't like you why not just ask him?"

"Because... because it's weird"

"it's not weird- and if he's an honest man he'll tell you the truth"

You stared at him

Was he serious?

"Are you being serious?"

"one hundred percent" he nodded "Tomorrow" he stated, "you ask him, and I'm coming too"

"you're not coming"

He cocked an eyebrow "I'll be outside, I don't want him trying any weird shit"

"Pedro..."

"I just- I'm tired of it y/n"

You sighed "fine" before sitting back on the bed, feeling all your energy drained.

He sat beside you after a moment

"How long have you kept this to yourself?" you finally broke the silence, turning to him just to find his gaze already on you.

"Since I met him"

"Pedro...that was 2 years ago" 

"I know"

You paused, again

"You know that I would never cheat on you, right?"

"of course I do" he sighed "It's just- him... I don't like him"

You let out a small laugh "Yeah, I gathered"

"I can't help it" he murmured, his hand going to stroke your cheek "There can only be one man all over you" he smiled a lazy smile "and luckily... that man happens to be me"

#i do not like this in the least so i understand if you don't either #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #the last of us #joel miller #tlou #the mandalorian #javier peña #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #Pedro Pascal #fluff #daddy pascal #pedrohub #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedrito

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // twenty-one

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: oh- you guys wanted them to be happy and in love in peace?? my bad. anyway, good a time as any to wish you guys a happy valentines day! lol

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Where are ya takin' those?" Lennox asks you as you're quickly scanning through your piles of books, pulling out one or two at a time and holding onto them.

"I will bring them to Coryo and Sejanus." You smile to yourself, standing up straight as you finish picking out most of your favourites.

"Coryo." Lennox scrunches his nose up. "Why bother? They can't read that many books in a week. Especially when he'll hardly get his hands off you long enough to do literally anything else."

"Oh, Lennox hush. That is not true." You shake your head pointedly, cheeks burning red.

"It is true."

You had kind of explained to Lennox what happened, that Coryo explained, apologized, and that you were wrong about him. Your mother was right, of course, but Lennox still wasn't buying any of it. Although, he wouldn't deny that you seemed happier.

"Ma!" You call out, coming out of your bedroom with the stack of books in your arms. Trying to talk to Lennox about this would never end in him actually listening to you.

"Just out back, honey!"

You follow her voice out onto the back porch. "Ma, do you know if there's a limit of things you can take on the train?"

She looks up at the question, laughing at the stack of books you have steadied under your chin.

"It's not a passenger train, honey. I don't know." She chuckles. "You want to give him all of those? Won't you miss them?"

"Well..." You think about it, placing them down on the ground to rest your arms for a moment. "I don't know when I'll see him again, and books are expensive to post. Besides, I know they'll be in safe hands, and if I want to read them again I can take them from the library."

Your mom smiles sadly at you. "I suppose that's true."

"Yes." You grin, crouching down to pick the books up again carefully. "I shall go drop these off."

"When will you be back?" She asks, just as you're about to walk back inside.

"Uh, I'm uncertain, but I shouldn't be long! We don't have any plans."

"Maybe you should take your brother with you, he can carry those." She suggests and you sigh.

"No, Ma. He's mean." You pout.

"He only wants to keep you safe. Take him with you, please. He'll be driven mad here waiting for you to get back." She insists and you groan, dropping your head back. "I won't ask again, I promise."

"Okay, Ma." You relent, stepping back into the house and letting the door swing shut behind you. "Len! Ma says you're coming with me!"

"So... how do you know where they are staying?" Lennox asks you, half the books in his arms as you practically skip ahead of him.

"Coryo showed me the other day."

"Oh, he did. Of course he did." You can practically see him rolling his eyes behind your back. "Have you ever considered that he could just be using you? I mean-"

"Lennox, that's not a rational thought process. I have nothing that he would want, he already won his prize." You interrupt. "He just came here to spend time with me, we talked about that when I was in the Capitol."

"I can think of something he wants..."

"Lennox!" You turn on your heel, pointing a finger in his face so fast he almost stumbles as he stops. "That is enough. You have so little trust in me!"

"It's not like we haven't been down this road before!" He argues, and you quickly look around as he raises his voice. The path is deserted this time of day.

"And you don't think me capable of learning?"

"Clearly not! Him and Cole are practically the same person!"

"Don't you say that- I didn't like Cole and you know it." You narrow your eyes at him. "Coryo is different. He wouldn't hurt me."

"You do realize that those are like, the famous last words that every teenage girl ever has said and regretted it, right?"

"Do you just not want me to be happy?" You ask bitterly. That wasn't true and you knew it, but you were upset and you knew it would get your point across. He was being cruel.

"The opposite, actually! I just want you to think realistically about fallin' into the open arms of your 'knight in shining armour' who you've literally had nightmares about for weeks on end."

"I am not a child! I am an adult, and I am capable of making my own decisions." You spit. "He's not using me. He loves me, and I love him."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll say that until-"

"Lennox you are such a.. boy!" You groan. "If you must know, if you must insist that I am so stupid, no, I have not slept with him. Is that what you needed so desperately to hear?"

"Gross." He mumbles, shaking his head with disgust. "I don't care what you do with your alone time, actually I'd really rather not know! All I'm saying is you need to be more careful."

"I'm not going to fight with you. You can trust my decisions or not." You grumble, turning back around to keep walking. He follows behind you silently, neither of you saying another word the whole walk there.

You knock on the door, taking a step back while you wait for it to open. You can hear your brother breathing behind you and it's driving you up the wall. You would drop off the books and send him home- maybe you would stay for a while, go for a walk, something.

The door creaks open and you smile when you see Sejanus. "Y/N!" He grins, opening the door wider for you to come in. "Coryo! Your girlfriend is here!" You blush at the term as you walk in past him.

You hadn't discussed any kind of title to what you had, the looming ache of him leaving again so soon holding you back from wanting to mention it. You assumed he didn't want to discuss it either, both of you silently agreeing just to enjoy the time you still had together.

"Y/N/N." Coryo grins, eyes lighting up as he enters the room.

"Hi." You smile, ignoring your brother pretending to gag behind you.

"What brings you?" Coryo asks. "I didn't expect to see you today, I was thinking of coming to see you myself."

"Yes, well, I went through my books and brought some over that I would like you to take." You look back over your shoulder as Lennox is placing the large pile of books on the dining table.

Coryo hums as he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. "That's a lot of books." He chuckles.

"You don't have to rush through them, keep them as long as you'd like." You assure him. "I just thought they were some you may enjoy."

"I'm sure I'll love them." He kisses the top of your head. "Thank you."

You turn in his arms to look up at him, ticking your head slightly when you hear Sejanus speak quietly. Clearly, not to either of you. "Hey, I just want to show you something. Come outside with me?" And then the door is shut, and you and Coryo are left alone.

"What's he showing him?" You ask, and Coryo watches through the window as his friend and your brother circle around to the side of the house.

"I am not sure." He answers. Immediately, he's thinking of the note Sejanus had scribbled out for himself. It included your brother's name alongside the dates and times, and those dates were creeping up quickly, the seventeenth being in three days- if he had today's date correct.

"Coryo?"

"Hm?" He looks down at you again. "You were thinkin' for a minute there. What's wrong?"

You were always so concerned. All he had done was take a moment to think, and you seemed genuinely worried. Maybe there was something in his face that showcased his confusion. "Nothing, love." He assures you, but you don't seem inclined to believe it. "Okay, uh, just... Come with me." He grabs your hand, watching out the window to make sure they aren't coming back yet as he leads you to his room.

You step into the small space and smile. He wasn't here for long, but the room already had little touches of him. The bed was made, and there was nothing on the walls but the bedside table had the copy of Romeo and Juliet he had got for you, a folded-up note, and a comb for his hair he had yet to put back in his bag despite him not needing it anymore.

You turn to face him after he shuts the door, smiling. He almost looked normal here, now. Like he was getting used to being here with you, living your life. It certainly wasn't like what he left behind in the Capitol, but to you it was special.

"Y/N, I have something to tell you." Coryo says, serious with a lowered voice. He didn't want anyone to hear it, even though you were still likely alone in the home.

"Okay." You reply, feeling your brow crease as you nod at him. His tone makes you nervous- your heart skips a beat in your chest. For a moment, you feel trapped. Tell him what you need. He won't mind.

"Can you... can you move away from the door, please?" You ask quietly before he has the chance to speak again.

He nods, not wasting a second before passing you and you turn with him, now with the door to your own back. "Is that better? You okay?" He asks and you nod.

"Fine just fine." You smile, trying to be reassuring. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Right, so..." You watch as he runs a hand over his head, still in the habit of pushing back his hair. "I was in Sejanus's room the other day, and I found this note. It had two dates and places on it, and then your brother's name and that was it."

"Oh." That's the only thing you can think of to say. "Well... do you remember the places? Maybe he was just trying to remember Len's name?"

"I don't know, I was hoping you'd know more." Coryo sighs, reaching for the bedside drawer. He had written down what he remembered from the dates and times, because he did want to ask you about it. "But he's been leaving and coming back at odd hours, he won't tell me what he's doing. Is he with Lucy Gray?"

"I don't think so." You frown, shaking your head. "But they have been getting close."

"But that doesn't really feel relevant to the note, or your brother."

"No... It certainly doesn't seem that way."

"Here, so... I wrote it down. Uh... The Hob, August seventeenth at ten pm, and broken fence August eighteenth at four am." He reads off what he remembered enough from the note to write down.

You tilt your head.

"Does that mean anything to you?"

"Well, on the seventeenth The Covey is performing at the Hob, so maybe he planned on going to that." You explain. "But broken fence... there's so many of those around here I couldn't tell you. Although, four am is an incredibly odd time to be meeting anyone."

"That's three hours before our train leaves."

"Oh." You shake your head slightly. "That's very weird."

"I know." Coryo sighs. "He won't tell me either, I've asked if he has any plans that night and he said no."

"Well... We should go." You offer. "Tell him that we're going to the meadow that night, and we'll just go after him. See who he's with."

Coryo raises his eyebrows at you. "I didn't take you for the nosy type."

"Well, I'm a big sister at heart and if it possibly involves Lennox I have to know." You argue. "It could be dangerous. He's always had a few friends I didn't love."

"Are you okay to go back there? I can go without you." He offers.

"I'll be fine." You insist. It's more so out of necessity, you have no choice but to be fine. You have to know- you have to make sure your brother and friend are safe.

"Are you sure about this?" Coryo asks, stopping you outside the entrance to the Hob. "If you want to go home I can take you, I just want you to feel safe."

"I know." You give him a small, reassuring smile as you squeeze his hand. "If I need to leave I'll tell you. I promise."

He nods, taking one last look at you to make sure you still seem okay before he pushes the door open and you both head in.

The building is buzzing- as it usually is when The Covey performs. You smile at the music, letting Coryo pull you close to the side wall as he scans the crowded room for his friend.

"Do you see him?" You ask, and he somehow hears you over the music and shakes his head.

You frown, looking around as well. No sign of Sejanus, no sign of Lennox. Lennox isn't even old enough to be here, but he wasn't at home when you left- and it's not exactly hard to sneak in.

"There," Coryo says, nodding in the direction of the opposite side of the room. You follow his eyes, and spot Sejanus talking to someone you recognize. "Who's he with?"

"Spruce." You explain. "His sister is scheduled to be executed tomorrow afternoon." You add, leaning closer so no one else will hear.

You watch as they head toward the back hall, the same one you ran down just a couple of weeks ago. "Should we go after them?" You ask when Coryo doesn't reply and he nods, watching them as he pulls you down the outside wall toward them.

You make it back to the hall without Lucy Gray spotting you, as far as you can tell. Standing outside the door, you hear shouting. You watch Coryo as he clenches his jaw, shaking his head.

"Wait out here." He tells you, dropping your hand.

"No- I, I should come." You shake your head and he grabs your cheeks, lifting your head to look into your eyes.

"I don't know what they're fighting about but it doesn't sound good. Wait out here." He's stern as he gently brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. "Listen to Lucy Gray, just watch the door. Okay, love?"

"Okay." You agree quietly, slightly nodding.

He kisses your forehead before letting you go, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open and disappearing behind it.

You chew your nails as you wait with your ear to the door, trying to decipher who is inside with them. It's hard to tell with all the shouting going on, but you hadn't heard Lennox.

"Y/N." You hear your name, quickly jumping back from the door and turning to face the voice. "What are you doin' here?"

You chew your cheek, trying to avoid Cole's gaze. "Just waitin' for Lucy Gray." You lie, looking down.

"Ah." He hums, nodding slightly as he steps closer to you. "Where's your purebred Capitol attack dog?"

"What are you doing here, Cole?" You ask, ignoring his question.

"We got leave passes for the weekend." He answers. "Hoff said something about 'boosting morale'."

"That's nice." You smile nervously. "Well, I don't want to keep you, so..."

"You aren't." He smirks, tilting his head as he looks down at you. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, you know that, right?"

"I know." You say softly.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"Cole..." You sigh, looking down again. "We talked about this I just... We're too different. I'm sorry."

"Oh, because you have so much more in common with that prick- right?" He laughs sarcastically. "He's Capitol! He'll never know you like I do. Honestly, I'm offended that you'd choose him over me."

"I'm not choosing him over you." You frown. "I already knew we wouldn't work before I ever met him. This is very, very different. I'm sorry."

"You are? Oh, I'm glad to hear that." He nods and you eye him suspiciously. "Maybe then after he leaves, you'll give me another chance. He's taking the next train, tomorrow morning, right?"

"I can't do that, Cole." You shake your head.

"That's an awful shame." The evil smile on his face doesn't fade. "I'll have no choice but to report your father."

Your heart drops. "My Pa hasn't done anything."

He sucks in through his teeth. "Well, suspicion is enough to charge, and I don't know... I get a bit of an off feeling from him. It's actually my duty to report any suspicions we have, so honestly I've been protecting you, and I'd like to keep doing that, you know?"

You finally picked up on what he was saying, and immediately could taste the bitterness of fear on your tongue, a metallic tang that seemed to linger in the air.

"So? Do we have a date?"

"Sure." You mutter through gritted teeth.

"Sweet, thanks for finally coming to your senses, bug." Cole smiles, patting your shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon!" He calls back as he walks away.

You don't even care what's going on inside, you can't be alone in this dark hallway anymore.

You pull the door open and rush in, but you're quickly stopped by Coryo's arm as he takes a few steps back, pushing you behind him. "What- what's-"

"She can't be in here!" Spruce spits at Coryo as you look past him, gasping at the sight of several guns on the table and the one in his arms.

"Listen, she's not involved." Sejanus promises.

"Her brother is gonna help us, it's cool. She won't tell." You look at Billy Taupe when he speaks, eyes wide.

"No- this is crazy." Mayfair shakes her head. "She's not coming with us. We're not bringing her or Lucy Gray. I'm leaving."

"No, they aren't coming. I just said I'd ask. Now she knows, so she probably should." Billy Taupe replies and your eyes flick between the couple. You had no idea what was going on, where he wanted you to go, and what this had to do with Sejanus or your brother.

"No! My daddy will have you all strung up for this." She throws her hands up and starts to walk toward the back door. Your heart is pounding in your chest as Coryo reaches for one of the guns.

"Don't!" You cry out, forcing yourself in front of him just as he aims the gun at her. At you.

"Y/N, you gotta move right now." He says quickly, and you hear her footsteps stop behind you.

You can only look at his eyes as they flit between anger, instinct, and fear.

"Coryo." You say, voice cracking and it's only then that you feel the tears dampening your cheeks.

The barrel of the gun is under an inch from your chest, and you can see his hands shaking as he holds the heavy weapon in his hands. He won't shoot you- he won't.

The world around you seems to blur as your focus narrows on the overwhelming sense of fear gripping you tightly. Right now, if someone asked where you were, you wouldn't know. You just as easily could have been standing in the arena. 

He doesn't dare move as he stares at you, eyes wide. He doesn't want to hurt you, but that's why he has to do this. He can't let whoever that girl was have you killed. Still, you stand in front of him. Shaking, but not moving. This was the girl he knew from the games who offered a rose to Coral who in the moments before was threatening her. The girl who so thoroughly hated the idea of bringing harm to others that her own mind blocked it out completely and replaced the story with something else. This was the girl who was willing to give up her life just to be able to give the other tributes an honourable burial that she knew they wouldn't otherwise receive. 

The girl who saw him kill another boy and despite all of that, still had it in her heart to forgive him.

You don't even hear Mayfair laugh and begin to walk away again, you only hear the gunshot that follows. You jump, immediately looking down to assess the damage. Coryo wasn't pointing the gun at you anymore, he had dropped his arms in defeat- and you had mistaken the loud noise for an impact you were expecting.

He didn't shoot you.

"What did you do?" You turn as Billy Taupe screams, eyes widening as you see Mayfair bleeding out on the floor.

"Oh god- oh god..." You mumble, stepping back until you bump into Coryo. He drops the gun back onto the table, pulling you into his arms.

"Don't look, don't look..." He tells you, turning you and pressing your head to his chest so you can't see anymore even if you wanted to.

You can't even make out what Spruce and Billy Taupe are yelling at each other over the sound of your blood pumping through your veins. Until the second gunshot.

You must be sobbing now, clinging onto the front of Coryo's shirt so tight your knuckles are burning. "You're okay, it's okay." He tells you. You don't know what's going on- you don't want to.

Coryo stares between Spruce and the body of Billy Taupe now slumped down next to Mayfair. He needs to get you out of here, now, but he doesn't know how. This has to be handled first.

He's letting you go only to grab your cheeks and get you to look at him. "Go back outside, you have to go back outside, I will handle this."

You can't even speak- can't even move. You try and shake your head. You couldn't leave him, not right now. You feel like you'd die the moment he ceased touching you.

The door slides open again, followed by an angry voice you know too well. "What the fuck?" Cole must have been watching you. He must have heard.

"No..." You cry, shaking your head. If Cole saw this you were absolutely all screwed.

"What the fuck did you do?" Cole shouts again. "Nobody fucking move! You're all-"

Another gunshot. Silence.

"Oh no, no, no..." You try and look behind Coryo but he doesn't let you, holding your head firmly into his chest again.

"It's okay. Don't look." He says again, staring at Sejanus who looks like he's panicking just as much as you are now.

"Why'd you tell them where we were? Now you've gone and screwed us all over! I just shot a peacekeeper!"

"He didn't tell anyone." Coryo defends him. "We followed him, Cole followed us."

"Fuck." Spruce sighs, throwing the gun onto the pile of others still laid across the table. "We gotta bump this up. We have to get Lil now, go tell Lennox to get the stuff and hide it for us like we said."

"Get rid of the guns and pretend this never happened."Coryo hisses. "And leave the kid out of this. It's too late for whatever plan you had now- we don't know where he is."

You can't even hear a single thing going on anymore. You're actually sure you might faint.

When you go from shaking to completely still in Coryo's arms, he knows you have. "Shit..." He mumbles, trying to steady you as your knees give out. He quickly readjusts so he can lift you with an arm under your knees and the other under your back.

"I gotta get her out of here and you have to move quick. Get rid of the guns. Now." He instructs, and surprisingly, Spruce listens. He throws the weapons into a bag and steps over the two bodies by the door before leaving.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Sejanus cries, gripping onto his hair and breathing heavily. "No one was supposed to get hurt!"

"Sejanus, for once just shut up!" He grabs his attention from where his friend is staring at the dead couple, clearly losing his mind. Coryo doesn't have time for this- an unconscious girl in his arms and his friend looking like he's about to be in the same state in a matter of moments.

"It's all my fault..."

"All of this is your fault!" Coryo agrees, looking around at the mess of the room. "It's only gonna get worse if you don't pull yourself together."

"Oh, god..."

"If you breathe a word now, all three of us are finished. Just like in the arena. We came here to see her. If we go down, she goes with us." He holds you tighter to his chest as your hair falls over the curve of his arm, your head limp against his skin. "So now we have to go back to the house, gather all our shit, and act like nothing is wrong. We have to board the train tomorrow like nothing is wrong. Do you understand?"

"I- I don't know." Sejanus sniffs.

"Hey." Coryo says, taking a few steps closer. "Look at me. You have to pull it together. I know you wanted to go with them but now they aren't going. We've got to stick together. You won't get in trouble. I won't let anything happen to you, but you have to listen to me." It was obvious that it didn't matter that none of you pulled the trigger- being in the room was enough; especially when a peacekeeper had been murdered. If you were caught, you'd all be executed. "We're brothers, yeah? Brothers. Whatever you've done, I swear I will keep you safe."

"Brothers. Yeah." Sejanus mutters, still obviously in shock.

"Those guns were the only loose ends besides the four of us, so we're gonna be okay as long as we leave tomorrow." He breathes. "Okay? Not a word."

"O-Okay." Sejanus nods slightly, trying to keep his focus on the boy in front of him rather than their unconscious friend in his arms.

Coryo tried to give him a reassuring smile, but inside he was panicking too. They could escape it all on the train tomorrow, but now came the problem of what to do with you.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #thg series #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #thg fanfic #thg fic #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coryo #coryo x you #coryo x reader #snow x reader #snow lands on top #president snow

[jeonbunnie]

love is gone

pairing: reader x jeon jeongguk

anon suggested: “I had this idea for a fic it's angst with a lot of heartbreak with soft smut based on love is gone by Slander ft. Dylan Matthew, basically the oc and jungkook have been in a relationship for two years but recently she's felt him drifting away from her and things aren't the way it used to be so she plans a super cute date night in hopes of saving their relationship which he agrees too but he doesn't come home that evening....when he does come home the next day and mentions they have to talk she knows what he's going to say but she thinks if she can show him one more time he'll feel how much she loves him...but in the end his love is gone.”

summary: Jeongguk tries to let you down easy.

genre: angst; smut; 18+;

content/warnings: POV shifts; boyfriend!jeongguk; established relationship;break up!au; hurt/comfort; make up sex (kinda lol); fingering,unprotected sex

soundtrack: love is gone— by slander ft.Dylan Matthew (highly recommend listening to the acoustic ver)

a/n: writing this made me… 😮‍💨 mark me down as sad and horny byeeeeeeeee. Also reader has brown eyes bc of reasons. Brown eyed girl supremacy, mwah!

word count: 1.4K

♪ It tears me up when you turn me down. I'm begging please, just stick around♪

"Baby, let's talk."

Something about the way he said it made your heart crack. The tone of his voice, the softness of Jeongguk's words, there's a finality to it all that made you anxious for what came next.

"Can you come with me for a minute?"

You didn't want to have this conversation. You already knew where it would lead.

Everything in you wants to say no. But it's the first time you've seen Jeongguk in 24 hours and the first time he's held your hand in weeks, so you let him lead you outside, helpless against his touch.

You couldn't face him when you sat down on the park bench, and you're sure the words you've been avoiding will be written all over his expression, so instead, you look out at the horizon.

It was hurting you. Sitting at the bench with Jeongguk so close but so far away, the distance between you verging on strangers.

You had half a mind to lash out and accuse him of breaking up with you in public so you could accept it quietly and not cause a scene. But you know him.

You know your boyfriend was kind and gentle-hearted. He probably brought you out here because you loved sunsets, and he wanted to give you a nice memory even as he said goodbye.

In the distance, the sunset was a red-orangey glow, casting everything the light touched in golden warmth—but you can't feel it. All you feel is ice-cold dread for what's about to happen.

So you beat him to the punch. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

All the air rushed out of Jeongguk in a sigh. "Am I that obvious?"

You would have laughed at his question if it hadn't hurt you so much. "You've been avoiding me all week. Last night, you asked me for space, and now you want to 'talk.' We haven't talked in days. I might be blindly in love with you, but I'm not an idiot," you said, trying hard to keep the words from coming out bitter.

Jeongguk ran a hand through his hair, nerves on edge. Masked behind your anger, he could hear the hurt in your voice, and he hated being the cause of it. This wasn't easy for him, letting you go. But he couldn't keep you either.

"I think," he started. "I think we should start seeing other people."

At his confirmation, a hot tear slid down your cheek. Before you could wipe the tear yourself, Jeongguk reached out, closing the distance between you, and brushed the tear away with his thumb. He never could stand seeing you cry.

"Did I do something wrong?" You asked, barely keeping yourself together.

"No. Of course not. It's not you��"

"—It's me?" You finished, offering him a wobbly smile. "You don't have to say that just to be nice."

The look on your face made Jeongguk's chest ache so much he could barely breathe. "I don't wanna hurt you. . ."

"But you don't want to stay either?"

He doesn't answer that question; somehow, the silence between you only makes you feel worse.

"I see. . . "you said, nodding your head. "So that's why you didn't come home last night."

You fell asleep on the couch, waiting for him to find his way back to you so the picnic basket you packed remained untouched on the counter. You thought you could remind him of how great things used to be by recreating your first date at the park.

It involved fairy lights, wine, and homemade sweets filled with the love you hoped to remind him of. The love you hoped was still there.

Now you realize Jeongguk was never going to come back home to you. Not last night or any night after.

In a way, you're grateful. Considering the surprise you had planned, it would have been embarrassing if he had come home the night before.

Of course, you still made it to the park, but the situation was dramatically different now. But instead of making up, you were breaking apart.

"I'm sure you noticed how different things are between us now," said Jeonggguk. "Last night, I needed time alone to think. I tried to imagine myself without you. And the thing is, I could….and it all felt so."

You bit your lip, holding back more tears. "Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?"

Jeongguk was quiet for a moment, and hope built in your chest, but it died just as quickly when you saw him shake his head no.

Jeongguk forced his face to stay neutral. "I will always love you, but just not in the way I wish I still could."

"So this is it then? We're over? Just like that?"

You want to cry, scream, and beg, but Jeongguk is still and calm beside you. So calm you know he's already decided to end things, and you know him well enough to know how stubborn he is that he won't change his mind now that he's made it up.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I understand if you don't want to be around me, I've already made plans to stay at Joons tonight if you prefer me gone."

That was the last thing you wanted. "No," You said, pushing down the sobs that threatened to come from your mouth. "Can you stay, please?"

Jeongguk hesitated, looking away from the face of the setting sun. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea…" He didn't want to give you the wrong impression that there was any way to salvage your relationship. And more than that, he didn't want to lose his resolve because a night with you would make it that much harder to walk away.

"Just for tonight? I don't wanna be alone." It felt stupid to want him there now when he was the cause of your pain, but Jeongguk was one of the few people in your life who knew how to comfort you. You wanted him close, even at the most inopportune moment.

The word 'no' was at the tip of his tongue, but he turned to look at you, and the hurt he found there in your big brown eyes had him saying 'yes.'

And he knows he shouldn't, but Jeongguk can't help but comfort you like he always has. Even though you broke up, it didn't change the fact that he still cared for you, still had love for you. He told himself it was just a reflex that had him reaching for your hand on the walk back home.

It's reflex that has him curling up next to you in bed and wrapping his arms around your waist to be the big spoon, as always.

Reflex that has him kissing away your tears, neck, and shoulder.

Reflex that has his hands sliding underneath your clothes to rub you through your underwear, desperate to make you feel good.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

And before he knows it, he's sinking into you with a groan, getting lost in the familiar warmth of your body.

You're so wet it was easy to slip inside, and even though he's already inside you, so close, naked body flush against yours—it's not enough.

Jeongguk still wanted more.

He couldn't help but grip your thigh, lifting your leg to push in deeper, to feel more of you as his cock slid in and out of your heat.

It has to be a reflex because it can't be love that has his hips driving into you, over and over and over again.

It can't be love that has him moaning into your mouth, kissing you until you are both out of breath, till you clench around him and he spills inside you, filling you up so perfectly.

Because if it is love and not the memory of loving you that makes it so hard to pull away hours later when your tears have dried, and your heart beats steady as you sleep dreamless on the side of the bed that used to be his—then Jeongguk is making a mistake. It was possibly the biggest mistake of his life.

Jeongguk isn't sure he can live with being the one to break both of your hearts. But he'd rather end it all before your relationship's indifference could turn to something cruel. He'd finish it now before you could hurt each other further.

If he had thought about it more, Jeongguk might have seen the love hidden in his actions. That there was something here worth saving, worth fighting for.

But that wasn't what he wanted. Jeonguk didn't want to think of everything he was giving up walking away from you.

It was much easier to pretend his love for you was gone.

#bts fic #btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts scenario #bts drabble #jungkook fic #jeongguk fic #jungkook drabble #jeongguk drabble #jeongguk x reader #poc reader #songfic #req fill.📦 #my fics.🍪

[angelltheninth]

BNHA Men when You Have A Near Death Experience During a Mission

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya, Bakugo Katsuki, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, cuddles, sneaking around, literal sleeping together, life affirming kisses, crying

A/N: Time for some angst! Hope you're ready to get punched in the feels.

Izuku never wanted to see you like that, on the ground and bleeding, broken. You can feel his tears falling onto your face, you can hear his cries, telling you to hold on that you'll be okay, you'll get fixed up in no time just hold on. In the following days he can't let go of the sight, his mind won't let him forget seeing you like in that state. When you get out of the hospital you notice that he's more quiet then usual, still sticking close to you but unsure what to say to you. If he was stronger then maybe you he could have watched your back better. So... will you train with him? Like a date. It's odd to count that as a date but he was always a weird boyfriend, in an adorable way.

"It might be sudden, you just got out of the hospital but I really want to get stronger. I haven't been sleeping well since then, every time I close my eyes the nightmares come rushing in. I want to get stronger, be able to stand by your side. Then, do we have a date?"

Bakugo is the guy who will blame himself for you getting hurt but he will do it in the angriest way possible and actually make it seem like he's blaming everyone else. Needs to carry you to the hospital on his own, even if he himself is badly injured. If anyone so much as tries to touch you he will get aggressively protective, holding you closer to his chest in retaliation. The moment you open your eyes his mouth is on yours, his hands cupping your injured cheeks with the gentleness most doubt he could possess. He can't stay for long but for the time he can he doesn't want his hands to not be on you, he needs to know that you're okay.

"Fucking messed up back there. Don't give me that, you know I did! You could have died you idiot! Look... I'm not the best guy but you... you bring out a better side of me, I don't want to lose you. I can be sappy when I wanna. Keep your mouth shut about it or I'll shut it with mine."

Shoto never wants to know what it feels like to lose a person he loves. There have already been so many close calls in his life, and now it's happening again. You keep telling him you'll be fine but how can you say that when you're loosing so much blood. The hall outside of your room in the hospital is in a constant flux of too hot and too cold because his emotions are all over the damn place right now. Seeing you awake calmed him down a little but it's not until he feels your hand in his pulling him next to you and letting him listen to your heartbeat that he truly calms down. It's a little cramped in the hospital bed but if you don't mind it then he'll stay like this.

"How could it have been worse? You almost died there. I never want to think about a worst outcome. I want to stay by your side forever, I want to go to sleep and wake up while listening to your heartbeat just like I am now. In a bigger bed of course."

Eijiro had never been so angry in his life. At those who almost killed you yes but also at himself. He's your boyfriend, he should have payed more attention to what was going on around the two of you. Now you're bedridden in a hospital, unable to move without it causing pain. You'll heal but what happened will always haunt his mind. Because visiting hours have their limits he thinks it wouldn't be a problem to sneak in through the window, bring you flowers and snacks to make you feel better. You spend many hours talking, kissing, even long periods of silence. He eventually falls asleep in his chair and in the morning has to run right as he hears the door handle turn.

"Brought you flowers and your favorite snacks. I don't want you eating yucky hospital food. Are you doing better? Did you... see me when you... sorry, I don't like being that way, but when I saw you like that I lost it. I will smash through anything and anyone to keep you safe."

#mha x reader #mha headcanons #mha imagines #mha angst #izuku midoria x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha x reader #bnha angst #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha hcs #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagine #boku no hero academia headcanon #boku no hero academia angst #izuku angst #bakugo angst #shoto angst #kirishima angst #x reader

[the-whispers-of-death]

My mind went back to Closed Off!Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley and I realized that I never wrote them confessing their feelings for each other. So this is that but if you haven't read this series of drabbles, it starts with this, then this, and finally this.

Okay, now onto the good part.

You're both just chilling in the recreational room of the base, just the two of you in the room. You and the 141 can't leave base, just in case there's a mission that suddenly comes up, so understandably, you're bored. But at least you're here with Ghost.

Over the past few months of working with him, you've grown rather fond of him and by now you are no longer in denial of your feelings. You know you feel more than friendship with this man, this man who painstakingly tore down all of your walls. He knows your past, every unflattering detail, and he's still here. Sitting right next to you.

"Ghost?" Your voice is a whisper, so oddly soft in this moment. You're usually not afraid to get loud, you're an intimidating person.

Ghost sets down the book he was reading to look at you and you know for a fact that he's raising an eyebrow beneath his balaclava at you. "What is it?" he asks, curious as to why you interrupted the nice peaceful silence that only happens when it's just the two of you.

Your palms start getting sweaty, but you manage to not show your nervousness too much. "I've been thinking about how close we've gotten since I first met you and the rest of the 141," you say, slowly building up your confidence. "You all mean a lot to me, more than I show it. But you, you especially mean a lot to me."

You're both facing each other now, looking into each other's eyes. Ghost has the most beautiful brown eyes and they've been in your dreams lately. You've been dreaming of them being filled with love and adoration, hoping he'll accept you as he has been doing for months.

"I thought at first that it was friendship, the strong connection you and I have." You take a deep breath to continue your sentence. "But I know now that it's more than that. I think about... kissing you, cuddling you in a more romantic way. I think about going on dates with you."

You let your words sink in and just as you're about to say that it's okay if he doesn't feel the same, Ghost speaks up.

"I like you romantically too," Ghost blurts out, his gruff voice so soft. He takes your hand in his. "I never thought I'd find someone to settle down with, especially not someone who was a fellow soldier like me. But I see something so wonderful with you. We're so similar, but we're different also. I can't stop thinking about your laugh, your smile. You're so amazing and bright beneath those walls of yours."

He lets his own words sink in and he leans in, slow in case you don't want the kiss he's offering. But you lean in as well, the kiss soft and tender. Your lips move in sync with each other's, like you're two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together.

It's everything you've ever imagined, so loving and so freeing. It's exhilarating and grounding all at the same time, making you feel safe and loved.

And after a mission comes up and is completed, Ghost takes you out on the perfect first date. It's one he knows you'd like because he listened to you when you told him about what you thought was a perfect first date.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x gender neutral reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x gender neutral reader #simon riley x female reader #call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #desi!reader #closed off!reader #this was longer than i expected #this may just be the end of this Drabble series #hope i did it justice #fluff #:)