#i wrote this with third-year au in mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suguwu · 5 months

Text

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

425 notes · View notes

lilacgyuvin · 2 months

Text

star — p. gunwook

pairing: gunwook x gn!reader

synopsis: gunwook unfortunately loses his wallet. luckily for him, a good samaritan is kind enough to trace the address on his i.d. and brings it straight to his doorstep! too bad it’s his newly ex-best friend (post-dramatic confession of love).

word count: 3.6k

warnings: highschool!au, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, BARELY proofread, jealous gunwookie, talks of falling out, misunderstandings, miscommunication, feat. seniors hanbin and seunghan (and eunseok), not to be taken serious this is just fiction!!

a/n: needed a break from writing that tattoo artist jiwoong au so i wrote this 🥸

Gunwook’ s lost his wallet.

It’s no big deal! It’s not like his whole life is in there or anything: his money, I.D., credit and debit card, along with his ultra rare Twicecoaster Lane 1 devil Nayeon photocard— yeah, he’d be fine without them.

He only realizes when he get’s on the train home from school, reaching for the photocard for emotional support after the shit week he’s had until he realizes it’s in his wallet which definitely isn’t in any of his pockets right now.

He finally lets out what he thinks is a quiet ‘fuck!’ after patting his pockets down and emptying out his backpack for the third time, which ends up not being as quiet as he originally thought, if the looks from the elderly couple sat across from him are anything to go by.

A few hours go by, and he’s still mourning the loss of devil Nayeon— oh, and all that other stuff too, he guesses. To get his mind off of things, Gunwook thinks a game of Fortnite with his loving friends would do the trick. It’s twenty minutes after when their entire squad gets wiped out (and proceed to get emoted on) is when he retracts that whole idea.

“I’m positive those guys were like, ten year olds. Do you know how embarrassing that is?!” Hanbin’s voice comes from Gunwook’s headset, meshing with the groans of Eunseok and the laughter of Seunghan on the other ends of the call.

“Obviously, it just happened to us! And the audacity. of Gyuvin to leave when he’s the reason we lost. His aim is so fucking ass,” Eunseok speaks loud and fast into his mic, making Gunwook wince at the volume. He seriously needs to start putting his volume down as soon as Eunseok joins. “Why do we still play with him? No, seriously someone answer me, why do we still play with him? Can we replace him with Y/n? Matter fact, I’m calling them right now I can’t do this.”

Seunghan’s laughter comes to a halt the minute their name is mentioned, just like Gunwook’s breathing for a split second.

“Eunseok.” Seunghan says his name and it sounds like Eunseok’s movements come to a stop, the only sound being that of the classic lobby music and the occasional Ps4 notification.

“... Does Gyuvin not have shit aim? I mean, we all saw that.” he says, and Hanbin then decides it’s his turn to speak up. “Maybe don’t talk about Y/n right now.”

It’s only now that Gunwook realizes he hadn’t told Eunseok about the whole ordeal this entire time, and it’s evident in the way he gasps from the other end of the call. “Y/n?! The fuck happened with Y/n? Oh my God please don’t tell me I have to cut them off they’re so fun. Speaking of, we have plans next week on Thursday to this new—”

“Eunseok seriously shut the fuck up.”

“ ‘Kay I’m gonna go heat up my hot pockets.”

Gunwook feels bad since he’s kind of the reason why Eunseok got cursed out by Seunghan. He’ll make it up to him after the upcoming, full on expected pep talk from Hanbin.

“You two still aren’t talking?” he asks the same time Eunseok logs off, and Gunwook thinks that maybe he too can escape this if he leaves without a second thought. He then realizes that Hanbin can literally just call him after he leaves, so he decides to dish it out and get it over with, mumbling his next words. “Well they’re not talking to me.”

It sounds childish, but he wasn’t lying! “The phone works both ways, Gunwook.” he sighs, the sounds of him readjusting in his seat being heard before he’s continuing, “Was it that embarrassing?”

Gunwook forgets that he didn’t explain the extent of the situation to his senior, so it isn’t entirely Hanbin’s fault that he thinks that Gunwook is simply embarrassed, but he can’t help the groan that follows anyway. “It’s not just that. It’s- I can’t even say.”

It’s nothing personal, really— everyone knows that Sunghoon and Y/n used to go out (for a mere 5 months, so Gunwook doesn’t even care for real!). What people didn’t know was how they swore to Gunwook that they’d never get back with him, not even for a second, so when Gunwook finally realizes the feelings he has for his best friend and decides to do something about them (queue chocolates and flowers at the end of the school day), the last thing he expects to see is Y/n and fucking Sunghoon, holding each other in a warm hug, like they’d shrivel up and die if they were to part.

Gunwook wished that had happened to him when he walks into the empty classroom, the wrapping from the flower arrangement in his hands startling the two out of their tight embrace. They looked like a pair of deer caught in headlights, frozen in place as they watch Gunwook’s word die on his tongue, mouth agape as he tries to restore them.

“Sorry. Bad time.” it’s the only coherent thing he can manage to say before he’s making a beeline for the door, too embarrassed and upset to verbalize the rest of his thoughts. Never getting back together, huh? Gunwook’s feeling a lot of things in this current moment, but the one that sticks out the most is how utterly stupid he feels. It’s so intense it almost drives him to anger, but he’s on the train home before it can get to that point, free from the fear of them running after him.

He isn’t particularly proud of what he does when they text him almost immediately after the whole ordeal, only responding after he gets home.

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: omg i’m so sorry i totally forgot you asked to meet up

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: we were just talking

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: did you still wanna talk? where’d you go??

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: gunwook??

You:

sorry i had to rush home

You:

its fine tho lol

You:

i was just gonna ask your opinion on

the flowers i got

You:

they’re for eunchae

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: oh

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: i didn’t know you liked eunchae?

You:

yup

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: okay well then yeah they’re really pretty

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: she’ll really like them

You:

thanks 🙌

Okay don’t look at him like that. He had to save face! He feels bad as soon as he spews the lie out, but then he remembers the way his heart dropped to his ass at the sight of Y/n and Sunghoon hugging, and convinces himself that maybe this was for the best.

What Gunwook doesn’t expect are the two weeks that follow. To describe them in two words: extremely awkward. The following morning, instead of the two taking the train together like they normally do, Gunwook makes up some lame excuse about being late and ends up taking the longer way. They talk during the classes they have together, but it’s all stiff and feels uncomfortable, despite anyone saying anything about it. Going home is the same as the morning was, yet this time it was Y/n who couldn’t make it, saying they had to visit a relative after school.

It was always easy for the two to tell whenever the other was lying, but Gunwook wants to give them the benefit of the doubt, seeing as he wasn’t so truthful himself just recently. When the two do arrive home, there are no texts exchanged or calls that go on for hours on end like usual, and it makes Gunwook uneasy, but the feeling of being rejected without actually being rejected was more prominent in that moment, so he left it alone.

He didn’t know that the lack of communication on both ends would lead to them not talking at all, though! It didn’t help that he’d see them talking with Sunghoon again in the hallway only two days later, rubbing a reassuring hand along their arm, which then prompts him to talk with Eunchae during the period he knows he shares with Y/n. That day is what really set the tone for the rest of the week, he thinks; no calls or texts, passing each other through the hallways, and going home together came to a dead end. All the little things that made Gunwook not absolutely hate school were taken away from him, and he feels it’s partially his fault which made it suck even more.

It took his friends, including his seniors, only two days to realize that something was wrong, which is what’s prompted Hanbin to lecture him every chance he gets for the past two weeks.

“Well maybe you should text them anyway. I bet they miss you just as much as you miss them, right Seunghan?”

There’s absolutely no way Seunghan was listening in, seeing as he doesn’t answer til five seconds later when Hanbin clears his throat. “Oh! Yes, definitely.”

“What are you even here for.”

“Emotional support? I don’t know man, I just wanted to play Fortnite.”

“Seunghan.”

Seunghan whines at the disapproving tone of Hanbin’s voice, not sure how he got roped into being scolded alongside Gunwook. Hanbin’s just that good, he guesses.

“Ugh okay fine. Not gonna lie Gunwook, seeing you two not talking is really depressing, for all of us, and honestly super unsettling. Just tell them how you feel and maybe don’t lie to your crush about having a crush who isn’t actually your crush. How’d I do Hanbin?”

“Absolutely terrible. Please log off.”

Before Seunghan can defend himself against what Hanbin identifies as Useless Senior Syndrome™, there’s a steady knock coming from the front door, successfully getting Gunwook out of the lecturing. “Thanks guys, but I have to go.”

The two can barely bid their goodbyes before Gunwook is logging off, scurrying down the steps as the knocking increases in speed.

“I’m coming!” he half-screams. He knows it isn’t his mom because she always has her keys, so it’s okay that he raised his voice a bit. He honestly thinks it’s Yujin from next door, most likely wanting to borrow Gunwook’s switch again after he miraculously submerged his own into water. He swears to God if he doesn’t return it back on time again—

Oh. This isn’t Yujin.

What stood in front of him held waves of familiarity: one being the navy blue leather-skinned wallet he’d gotten gifted by a relative a while back, the one that’s been home to his ultra rare Twicecoaster Lane 1 devil Nayeon photocard for years now— and the other being the person he’s gotten to know over the past seven years, who’s favorite foods he’s mastered and whose voice he can point out in a room full of thousands. The one who sits through the same old episodes of ‘Haikyuu!!’ with him, despite already seeing them multiple times. His best friend, who he hasn’t talked to in over two weeks, over his own fears and insecurities, is now at his front doorstep with his wallet in their hand, face unreadable to Gunwook for the first time since they’ve met.

“You forgot your wallet in Ms. Chwe’s class.”

Ms.Chwe’s class; the last period that they share with each other, where he was too busy trying to avoid Y/n’s gaze so in turn chatted up anyone who’d listen, not paying enough attention to the wallet that was falling out of his front pocket. Gunwook can’t even feel relieved that his most prized possession is safe, nor can he think of a way to make it anyone else’s fault at the moment given that his (ex?) best friend, who he hasn’t even glanced at in 14 days, is standing at his door with it in hand.

‘What am I supposed to even say?’ The silence that follows after still isn’t as embarrassing as that cursed Wednesday two weeks ago, so he tried to avoid saying anything that may exceed that level. “Thanks… okay bye.”

Okay what the fuck was that. He almost slams his head against the door, but he thankfully doesn’t have to dwell on it for too long, as they’re speaking before he knows it.

“You seriously don’t wanna talk about this?” They say, and Gunwook doesn’t know why it shocks him— they’d always been the confrontational type when needed.

“What do you wanna talk about?” He thinks it’s a pretty valid question, given that they could be referring to multiple things, but Y/n apparently doesn’t think so, if the roll of their eyes were anything to go by.

“You can’t be serious. About how you’ve been ignoring me for the longest!”

“Wha- only because you’ve been ignoring me!”

“That’s what most people do when someone’s been ignoring them first, dumbass.”

Gunwook huffs, he almost forgot how stubborn the both of them could be. “This is going nowhere. Just- come inside.” He gives up, decides to be the bigger person and let them in, not wanting their first interaction in so long to be an argument outside his door. Also because Yujin can be quite the creep and likes to instigate arguments from his bedroom window (he knows this because they’ve done it together).

They make themselves comfortable on the couch best associated with movie nights and hot cocoa during winter break, sitting on opposite ends. The air feels stale, and Gunwook feels like he has to say something before he can let the silence linger any longer. “D’you want some wate-”

“What did I do to you?” he’s cut off, the voice quieter prior to it outside. They turn to face Gunwook with hands gripping both knees reassuringly and— are they crying? “I mean, I’ve been trying to figure it out for so long, but I can't think of anything. Was it the flowers? Did she not like them?”

Gunwook wants to wipe off the face of the Earth. Not only were they crying, but they were kind enough to consider the feelings of others while nursing their own, successfully breaking his heart, while also making him feel unfathomably shitty.

He’s by their side in less than a second, not quite sure what to do with his hands as he lets out a stream of ‘no no no’ and ‘please don’t cry’. They won’t even look at him this time either, opting out to facing the wall in front of them instead. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

Gunwook sighs, finally deciding to rest his hands on his thighs. “I’m going to tell you, but you have to tell me why you were too, okay?” He asks and they nod almost immediately. “And you can’t laugh either. Seriously, I will kick you out.”

“I’ll walk out myself if you don’t spit it out already.” They attempt to say it threateningly, but they’re pouting and Gunwook hates how cute he finds it, considering their current circumstances.

“Okay I was getting there,” He can’t help the snark remark, and he half blames it on the fact that he’s about to do the thing that he never got to two weeks ago: confess his undying love for his best friend of over seven years to said best friend. Folding his hands atop his legs, Gunwook takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a split second before opening them as he exhales.

“Those flowers weren’t for anyone but you.” He’s not facing them, he absolutely cannot right now, instead focusing his gaze on his now sweaty hands, but he still hears the hitch in their breathing— it’s as clear as day. “I was going to give them to you, tell you about my feelings, but then I saw you with fucking Sunghoon, and I- I don’t know. I just felt so embarrassed and stupid and angry, so I came up with that stupid lie,” He finally finds the courage to face them, looking up to find their eyes already on him. “I’m sorry.”

Silence follows, and Gunwook fully expects it, but fuck was it agonizing. His face is practically on fire and he doesn’t want to break eye contact because he wants to ‘assert male dominance’ or whatever the hell Eunseok was going on about that one time he gave advice absolutely no one asked for, but it’s getting harder as the seconds go by and he just might explode right where he sits.

“Gunwook. You’re not gonna believe this but I was talking to Sunghoon about you,” Oh thank God they broke the silence— but what did they say? “I wanted to know if it’d make things weird between you and him if I asked you out or something, since you two are on the same dance team. I was also asking for advice on how to do it, since I’ve never asked anyone out before. I was going to the day after, but then you said you wanted to confess to Eunchae and I got really upset, I didn’t want to see your face at all.”

It’s now Gunwook’s turn to stare in silence, his previous anxious feeling replaced with one that screamed ‘what the fuck is happening I can’t believe this is happening right now’.

“What.” It’s all he can manage to say at the moment— if he felt stupid before, it’s definitely hitting harder this time around. He was avoiding his crush (who also has a crush on him, apparently?!), his best friend, all over nothing. His cheeks are becoming hot again and he feels like crying.

In classic Gunwook fashion, he does the most rational thing he can think of at the moment and bows his head beside their lap, clasping his hands in front of it as he lets out streams of ‘I’m sorry’, catching them completely off guard.

“Get up! It’s fine Gunwook, seriously." They reassure him, but he doesn’t dare get up from his position, only raising his head ever so slightly. “You still like me? Even though I lied to you and made you cry?”

They seem to find humor in his current predicament, giggling as they move a hand to pat his head. “I shed one tear. And dude, I lied too. I’m sorry as well, I was just scared.” It’s said with earnest, and Gunwook can feel it through their gaze once he finally gains the courage to lift himself up, his confidence fully restored. “Okay if we’re gonna date, you cannot call me dude anymore.”

“Is this you asking me out for real this time?” A hint of amusement makes its way onto their face, lolling their head to the side as they ask.”

“Yes. Wait no.” The switch up visibly confuses them, even more so when Gunwook gets up from his seat, instructing them to ‘wait here’ as he runs to the kitchen, coming back with a single flower. “My mom wouldn’t let them go to waste. They’re in a vase and she’ll kill me if I take all of them.”

They laugh, both because Gunwook was so so sweet and because his mom really would kill him. “Will you go out with me?” He knows it’s short, but he could tell them all the things he likes about them over takeout, and he really wants to kiss them right now.

“That was lackluster,” They say as they snatch the flower from their hands, but their actions are words are laced with playfulness, and they contradict themselves when they move to embrace him in a warm hug. “But yes, since you asked so nicely.”

Gunwook almost shoves them away if it weren’t for how intimate the current moment was. He’s glad they can still play around after spending so much time apart from each other. “Shut up! I just wanted to kiss you already. Wait, would that be weird?”

They look up, contemplating it for a second before they look back at him with a shrug. “I don’t know, but you can give me a kiss on the cheek. The one that isn’t wet.”

He takes takes that as a win, holding their damp cheek in favor of landing a peck on the opposite. Then another on their forehead. And another on the same cheek, but in a different place. It soon turns to him showering them with kisses all over, causing them to fall back on the cushions as they begin to laugh, taking Gunwook down with them as he refuses to stop. “Gunwook! I said one!”

He doesn’t even have the mind to grace them with an answer as he joins them in laughter, too overjoyed and buoyant with that fact that he’s now free from many things; free from hiding his feelings, from his insecurities now that their feelings were laid bare and are mutual, and free from pretending that he was okay letting his best friend falls into the hands of another. He no longer has to worry about any of that though, as they’re right where he wants them, where he deems perfect.

The cafeteria is booming as always, Gunwook and his friends (seniors and same-age mates alike) already seated at their table as they await the arrival of a few others. None of them say anything about the way Gunwook and Y/n are holding hands under the table, but there are definitely shared glances exchanged between Hanbin and Seunghan.

It’s only been two days since Gunwook’s actual successful confession, and they still have yet to say it outright, so they’ve just decided to let everyone come to their own conclusions. He thinks they’re on the right track though, with the way they shot him a thumbs up from across the table.

“Y/n!” It’s yelled from behind them, making the entire table, if not the whole cafeteria turn their heads to the source of the noise. Gunwook wishes he could say he was surprised as to who it was.

Eunseok practically tackles Y/n with the force in which he runs to their side, engulfing them in a hug from behind. “I thought I was gonna lose you! Don’t tell Gunwook, but you’ve always been my favorite junior.”

“I’m right here.”

“Shut up dont ruin this for me.”

a/n: we all know gunwook would be a communication king but i wanted to write this anyway. and guys i promise i can write things other than love confessions gimme like two weeks!!! also recs are open likes + reblogs are always appreciated ty baii

140 notes · View notes

yoru-no-seiiki · 10 months

Text

YANDERE ! EREN JAEGER X READER HEADCANNONS

TW/CW: mdni, yandere themes, masturbation.

Have some headcannons while I wait for my henna to dry/watch the first season with my cousin.

I wish there were more who wrote for Canon! Eren. Like don’t get me wrong, Modern AU Eren is hot but I mean, fuckboys can be seen everywhere.

But Canon! Eren is batshit insane and that’s exactly what I love about him. I wish they at least add that to his modern counterpart instead of making him a basic bad boy but I mean if that’s what they’re into 🤷‍♂️

Anyways Exhibit A of why Eren in all eras is my fave AOT character:

Like I said, he’s batshit insane.

He has directly killed 2 people by the age of nine, and assisted in killing the third. Although this is out of self defense it still can’t be denied HOW HE TReateD THE SECOND DUDE HOLY SHIT- THE AMOUNT OF TIMES HE STABBED HIM.

Normal kids would just be terrified, maybe be even fight blinding and/or cry, probably even run tf away. But ya boi brought a knife and even deceived the person at the door.

EXHIBIT B:

He’d be a great yandere.

Let’s say that we age up our cast and make 18 the minimum age of enlistment (making him 21 around the attack of Trost).

Trainee Eren has the will of fucking steel. He’ll do whatever it takes to wipe out titan-kind, to make the cruel world he lived in finally know true peace.

To be with you in that new world he’ll build.

You were one of his fellow trainees. Someone who unconditionally believed and supported his desire to see the outside world. You didn’t treat him like a child as Mikasa did, and you weren’t so oddly distant when it came to his help and presence like Armin.

At first it started as a crush. An infatuation towards your looks and kind demeanor which morphed into a twisted sense of love.

You were the only one that understood him, that resonated with his wavelength.

He definitely frequently masturbated to your image. Stress was a known issue amongst trainees and soldiers alike. Many drank to rid themselves of such a problem. But to him just the thought of you two becoming one gave him relief and pleasure that any form of alcohol could never give. In the aftermath of the Trost incident, when faced with your unconscious, battered body he pulls a Shinji and jerks one off. Covering you with his release.

You think you’ll leave his mind once he gets busy with being a titan-shifter and the future of Eldia and such but nope.

Eren only has you and the new world he promised in his heart, body and soul. And that’ll never change.

EXHIBIT C:

Eren believes in freedom first and foremost.

So none of that kidnapping. At least in earlier years. He just wants you to be happy and safe. He’s more of the type to hurt others for your sake rather than be abusive and take away your rights.

Eren in later seasons has the capacity to keep you isolated, and that he will.

Like in other (unfortunately rare) fics of him, he keeps you in a farm land with a bunch of loyalists. If reader is afab! or has the ability to bear a child (for those with abo ocs or something idk) he’ll tell them that you are bearing his child and the future inheritor of his powers.

Otherwise he’ll come up with other excuses like having you as a tactician or war-hero they have to pay respects to.

He’ll give you as much freedom as he can provide while keeping you away from danger.

Though one might argue that his version of freedom for you is just an illusion.

#yandere #eren #aot x reader #eren x reader #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #yandere eren jaeger x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #yandere aot x reader #yandere snk x reader

382 notes · View notes

onas-batlle · 21 days

Text

like daylight (part 1/?)

pairing: lucy bronze x ona batlle

warnings: none

synopsis: When you are both eighteen, anything your soulmate writes on their skin will be reflected on that of your own. Words in swirly, glowing, shimmering gold, these markings will link you forever to the one soul that is destined to intertwine with yours.

a/n: the soulmate au begins! this is kind of an intro chapter, so fair warning this first part will have a lot of keira x lucy (while they don't do anything romantic, they are in a relationship), and ona only makes one (brief) appearance. anyway, I hope the whole thing isn't super confusing, and ignore any mistakes lol.

Ao3 Link

When you are both eighteen, anything your soulmate writes on their skin will be reflected on that of your own. Words in swirly, glowing, shimmering gold, these markings will link you forever to the one soul that is destined to intertwine with yours.

It was the 27th of October, and Lucy lay stretched out on her bed on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, her mind a mess of thoughts as she grappled with the excitement of potentially being able to get in contact with her soulmate in only a few minutes.

11:57… 11:58…

She knew that it was probably going to be a girl; that realisation had already occurred and been faced head-on several years before that day, and she found that she was more concerned with whether or not her soulmate would also share her love of football than their gender identity.

She glanced at the clock again. 11:59. Lucy flopped her head back down onto her pillow and let out a groan at the slow-moving minutes, it almost seeming like the seconds were trapped in molasses. She hated to admit it, but Lucy had secretly been a romantic all her life and the idea that someone was out there in the world, crafted to fit with her exactly, was something that she had treasured forever.

12:00. Midnight.

As soon as the clock struck midnight, she eagerly grabbed a marker, pondering what her first message to her soulmate should be. She couldn't introduce herself by name - the magic didn’t allow that - so instead she tentatively wrote ‘Hi’, and waited for a response. When it didn’t come for an hour, she supposed that maybe her soulmate didn’t notice, or was busy.

When it had been a few months, she supposed that maybe her soulmate was a bit younger than her, and that was fine, she could wait.

Three, four, five, years passed and soon Lucy accepted that maybe she was just one of the unlucky ones who didn’t have a soulmate. Neither of her parents had lost hope, always having faith that one day her skin would be covered in words of gold, but after the third year ticked past, Lucy had resigned herself to the fact that there was no one written in the stars for her. Not that she cared for that fate stuff anyway, she often told herself.

So she fell into Keira. Keira, who was about as cynical as she was. Keira, who dismissed the soulmate stuff and said that they could write their own destiny. And Keira, whose hands were always covered in golden scrawls of unintelligible German. They loved each other as best as they could, anyway.

Lucy was twenty-five when a word showed up on her palm - bright and glowing gold. She kept it from Keira and hid in the bathroom to study it. It was a simple word - in Spanish, of course - Hola in loopy, curly writing. A small smiley face was dotted at the end of the word, and Lucy knew that it was for her.

So she did have a soulmate after all. One who was likely to be quite a bit younger than her, but a soulmate nonetheless.

Excitement flashed in her gut before she immediately felt guilty. Here she was, crouched in the bathroom, giddy with happiness, while her girlfriend was out in the lounge unassuming. Keira had chosen her despite knowing she had a soulmate of her own, so Lucy ignored the writing on her hand and exited the bathroom.

“You good?” Keira spoke, and Lucy just nodded, tucking her hand into her pocket. And if Keira noticed that she seemed a bit off for the next few days, she didn’t say anything.

A few more words came from her soulmate. A ‘cómo estuva tu día?’, and a ‘espero que estés bien!’ There was even some Catalan, which clued Lucy into the fact that her soulmate was from Catalonia, probably Barcelona. But as much as it pained her, Lucy ignored it all.

After that, Lucy’s soulmate didn’t write again.

A few months later, Lucy was in France. France which bordered Spain. Spain which was where her soulmate was from. She had always been drawn to Spain, even before finding out her soulmate was Spanish, but she urged herself to ignore it and just focus on football. She still had traces of gold - numbers and scrawled words, sometimes a sentence - but most of the time it was kept to a minimum.

She did know that her soulmate had tattoos though, several pieces having been marked into her skin for weeks until they faded, and several weeks where she was forced to wear long sleeve shirts to hide the swirling lines on her bicep that made up a map of the world.

She remembered one time when she awoke and went to take a shower, spotting yet another piece of inkwork. It was a lioness, glowing brightly on her shoulder blade, and Lucy had to choke back a laugh at the irony. She was unsure if her soulmate knew who she was, but their souls were intrinsically linked, so she shouldn’t really be surprised.

Keira eventually found out about Lucy’s soulmate, of course. She always knew when the fullback was keeping a secret, and it was stupid to assume that she could have kept something that big under wraps.

During one of the England camps, Lucy was walking to breakfast when someone suddenly caught her wrist and tugged her down a hallway, the English woman unable to stifle her small scream of surprise. When she finally got her bearings, she focused on Keira stood in front of her, a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy questioned, blinking in confusion at Keira’s expression, the midfielder’s eyes boring into her, unimpressed. Keira just let out a sigh at her question and grabbed Lucy’s hand, turning it over so her palm was facing down, revealing the glittering gold words on the back of it.

“Why not,” Keira read out and dropped Lucy’s hand, who had the decency to look a little sheepish. “Don’t think you went out and wrote this in gold ink by yourself, did you?” the midfielder stated and levelled the fullback with a pointed look. Lucy opened her mouth to respond when Keira sighed again and uncrossed her arms.

“Luce, I’m not angry. I mean I have a soulmate too. I just wish that you would’ve told me.”

“I’m sorry. I- I don’t really know why I hid it from you, because you told me about yours and it was fine. It was shitty of me,” Lucy responded, hanging head slightly. She never meant to hurt Keira, after all.

Keira graced her with a small smile and shook her head before waving her hand to dismiss Lucy’s words. “Well, at the end of the day, we picked each other, didn’t we?”

Lucy was relieved to hear those words, glad her moments of weakness had not ruined their relationship, and so they went on with their lives, mostly unchanged. There was always that niggling thought in the back of her mind though, the one that belonged to a hopeful little girl who wanted to find the one person that had been made especially for her. But she was not a little girl anymore, and she had Keira now, so Lucy shoved those traitorous thoughts aside and tried her best to focus on her current relationship. The one that she chose .

When was twenty-nine, Lucy found herself back in Manchester. The return was mostly for Keira - the distance having put a slight strain on their relationship, and truthfully, Lucy had felt a little bit homesick anyway.

She’d always enjoyed just simply watching football, and naturally, she loved to take notice of the skills of other players who played alongside and against her.

It was the Manchester Derby when she spotted her , the right back for the other team. She was small but quick and hurtled up the right wing with a passion that Lucy hadn’t seen in a long time. While United did lose the Derby, the unnamed player still marched up to all of the City players, jaw set, and offered them a handshake in thanks.

Something tugged in Lucy’s heart as the short woman made her way around all of Lucy’s teammates, and she watched on until she was standing directly in front of her.

“Good game,” the player spoke, extending her hand in front of her and tilting her chin up to meet Lucy’s eyes. The English fullback, almost involuntarily, dragged her eyes over the features of the other defender, drinking in the constellations of freckles that dotted across tanned skin, the shiny brown eyes that were filled with a fiery determination, and the full lips that were currently pressed into a firm line.

“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed as she realised that had been looking for a bit too long and reached out to grasp the other woman’s hand. “You guys had a good game too!”

As their skin made contact, the English woman flinched momentarily as she swore she could feel sparks pass between them and mentally berated herself at the physical reaction. An odd look passed across the other woman’s face, and before Lucy could even blink, she was gone, but not before the City player caught a glimpse of something tattooed on the departing player’s right hand.

She stood, stock still in shock for a few minutes until Keira came up to her and tilted her head inquisitively, before leading Lucy off the pitch and down the tunnel. She enquired about the player afterwards (“sizing up the competition are we Bronzey?”), and she was told that her name was Ona Batlle and that she was from Spain. The mention of that country caused Lucy’s stomach to twist, and she told herself off for the hope that flickered in her stomach at the idea that she could have just met her soulmate.

When home, she opened her phone to look at Ona’s Instagram, just to figure out if the other woman had those tattoos that had shown up on her own skin for a short period, but one glance at Keira who was washing her hands in the kitchen had her closing the app. She couldn’t go there. It wouldn’t be fair.

The next couple of years passed rather uneventfully, in terms of her personal life anyway, but soon she found herself starting to feel the boredom again, Manchester City not really ticking all her boxes anymore.

Lucy wanted to win, win something big like the UWCL, and City just wasn’t cutting it. When she got the offer from Barcelona her first instinct was to immediately agree, but she had to pause to weigh the decision that she was facing.

Firstly there was the thing about her soulmate. She hated that that was the first thing her mind went to, but she’d spent several years grappling with her relationship with Keira and with the potential person that was predestined for her, so moving to Spain - which could place her within meeting distance of her soulmate - could cause all sorts of problems. The second thing she had to consider was that she might have had to do long distance with Keira again, but that was quickly forgotten when the midfielder told her that Barcelona wanted her as well.

After a few weeks of discussion, they decided to make the move to Barcelona.

Several months later, after an amazing Euros that left them Champions of Europe, Lucy and Keira packed up to go to Spain. All seemed to have been going well - they were winning their games, and they were settling in well, but over the weeks, the romance between them came to a grinding halt and they found their relationship evolving into something merely platonic. It only took a few more weeks until it all came to a head.

Lucy came home from the shops one day and saw Keira standing there, waiting for her with red-rimmed eyes and a sniffle. She didn’t even have time to reach out to ask what was wrong before Keira spoke, a distressed look painting her features.

“Lucy, I’m sorry.”

It was silent for a few beats, but Lucy knew what words Keira was about to follow up with before she even opened her mouth to speak them.

“I’ve met my soulmate.”

The words hung in the air, and for some reason, it was relieving. They had only really been glorified roommates the past few months, anyway, and suddenly a weight felt like it had been lifted off Lucy’s chest.

“I know that I said soulmates are bullshit and we can choose who we want to be with but..” Keira trailed off and bit her lip. “Her name is Laura, and she’s lovely, and Lucy I think I would hate myself if I didn’t even try.”

“We haven’t done anything, by the way. I would never. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Even if we haven’t really been all that romantic lately, I wouldn’t betray you like that,” Keira rushed to get out, eyes beginning to fill with tears.

Lucy offered her a small smile. “Keira, it’s okay. Honest.”

They parted ways amicably, and while she did feel a bit sad that she no longer had a companion to spend her time with, she was okay. And when Keira posted a photo of her and Laura to her close friends’ story, Lucy was the first to like it.

A few more weeks passed, and it was only then that she allowed herself to even think about her own soulmate again. They hadn’t written to each other at all since Lucy had ignored the messages all those years ago, but the random doodles and numbers didn’t once cease. Her mind still lingered on that one Manchester United defender she had shaken hands with while she was still at City, but it had been so long now that she’d kind of abandoned the idea, so Lucy just decided to park that theory for the time being.

And then came Lucy Staniforth’s wedding.

#lucy bronze x ona batlle #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy bronze #ona batlle #woso imagines #woso fanfics #my fics

92 notes · View notes

weareapackofstrays · 29 days

Text

Come Light Me Up // Ji Changmin

Genre: Non-Idol college au, classmates to lovers?

Pairing: Changmin (Q) x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Masturbation. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: 3,305

A/n: Loosely inspired by a dream I had last night. Wrote this one quickly so there will probably be some mistakes. Graphics by @saradika-graphics!

It was the start of a new semester. While the first day of classes made some students nervous, you looked forward to it. Everything smelled like fresh books, paper, and ink. There were only two more semesters left until graduation and you couldn’t contain your excitement. A few of your classes this semester were completely online, which was convenient for you since you had to take on a few extra shifts to pay for this year's books and labs.

After clicking the zoom link to start your first class of the day, you scan over the 20 or so faces blinking back at you for anyone familiar. While you recognize a few students from previous classes, one unfamiliar face grabs your attention most. Your eyes fall on a man who you had not seen before. He is dressed in a simple black t-shirt and grey sweats. You notice he is sitting on his bed as if he just woke up and his ruffled dark hair definitely looks suspiciously like bedhead. He was too casual and it irked you. While you weren’t a perfectionist, you still felt like how you presented yourself on the first day of class set a precedent for the rest of the semester. You force your attention away from him to focus on your Professor’s greetings.

As class progressed you kept catching yourself staring at the student who you learned was named Changmin. He seemed so uninterested in class and it looked like something was distracting him off camera. It annoyed you and you weren’t sure why. Did you find him attractive? Of course. Changmin was very good looking, but he gave off douchey vibes so you did your best to pay him no mind. A task that would prove difficult.

The days pass by and you still find yourself totally bothered by this guy. Your eyes kept finding Changmin on the screen every time you attended class. And to make things worse, even though he never seemed like he was listening to the lecture, he still got every answer correct when the professor asked. It was starting to piss you off. I’m sure if anyone was watching you they could visibly see your annoyance and unbeknownst to you, someone was watching. Sometimes you would catch Changmin’s eyes staring right into the camera and you could swear they were looking back at you. But there was no way…right?

If there was anything he was paying attention to, it was you. Changmin noticed you on the first day of class too and every time you popped up on the screen he would look you over. He found it amusing the way you would be dressed up, make up done, even for a Zoom class. Like today for example, your hair was in a half updo, clipped back with a large pink bow. You were wearing what he assumed was either a blouse or dress with puffy white sleeves that only annoyingly teased your cleavage. He couldn’t tell if you had lipstick on, but your lips looked particularly glossy…and delicious. Changmin could tell you were the type to be a teacher’s pet and the idea of corrupting you started to quickly creep into his mind. He watched every facial expression of yours, noticing how excited you would get when you knew the answer to something and the way you’d grow agitated every time he beat you to the answer. Your perfect facade faltering before him. He especially loved the way your lips would pout when you were trying to concentrate. It drove him crazy. He could no longer hold back so he decided to take a chance.

During the third week of class, your Professor announced that there would be a test coming up this Friday. You tried to remain calm, but the thought of a test so soon gave you anxiety. A ding from your zoom chat pops up interrupting your thoughts. It’s a private message from a classmate. You squint at your screen to see who the message is from. Surely, you must be misreading. It was from Changmin?!

Changmin: hey, wanna study together?

You have not actually interacted with Changmin before, in fact, you're not even sure you have ever exchanged words. The extent of your interactions was usually him saying something that bothered you and you rolling your eyes at him several times throughout the class. You continue to stare at his message. Hesitating for a few more moments, you finally start to type. Changmin watches you intently, anticipating your reply.

Y/n: Why do you want to study with me?

Changmin smiles while reading your message.

Changmin: because we’re probably the only two in this class who actually give a shit

You snort, forgetting your audio is on and quickly rush to mute yourself. Changmin watches your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment and laughs. Even though the conversation is private, you still look around at the other classmates nervously wondering if they know what’s going on.

Changmin: you’re cute

You bite your lip to hold back a smile not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Changmin watches you roll your eyes at him, as you usually do, and it ignites his hunger further.

Y/n: Fine. Changmin: i’ll zoom you tomorrow night? Y/n: Sure, 8pm tomorrow then. Just ping me. Changmin: 8 is kind of late, no?

You glare at him briefly before responding.

Y/n: I get off work at 7:00 so I will need some time to get back and change. Changmin: sounds good. I’ll call you at 8pm sharp. Can’t wait!

Ignoring his last message, you turn your attention back to the Professor. Changmin can’t erase the grin on his face for the rest of class.

The next day you rush home after work to hop in the shower. Butterflies start to dance in your belly, but you do your best to shoo them away. You consider dressing up like you usually do for class, but worry Changmin will think you’re trying too hard. Ugh, why do you care what Changmin thinks, Y/n? You settle on a t-shirt and shorts with some cozy socks. Looking at the clock on your laptop, you start to feel the nerves as the time approaches 8pm. You continue to look at the clock and your watch every few seconds until finally the Zoom call notification pops up on your desktop. Shooting up from your chair, you quickly take a look in the mirror one last time to check your appearance before answering.

“Changmin.” You say simply, lacking any emotion.

“Y/n,” he responds with a hint of amusement.

You grab your textbook and open it. “I figured we could start from the beginning to refresh our memory first before diving into the most recent lectures.”

Changmin smiles, placing a pair of black rimmed glasses on. He looks good and he knows it. “Whatever you say.” He reaches for his book as well and opens it to the first chapter. “I’m all yours.” You grimace and give him a pointed look. He laughs and you watch the way his Adam's apple bobs on his long neck. He crosses his arms in front of him and your attention shifts to the curve of his biceps. Changmin is wearing a white t-shirt and what look to be his usual grey sweats. He notices your attention and tilts his head curiously. “Are we going to get started?” Your eyes dart up to meet his realizing you’ve been caught looking at him. You clear your throat and thumb through a few pages.

Changmin actually turns out to be a decent study partner and you're shocked at how thorough his notes are. After about 20 minutes into your study session, Changmin decides he’s bored and wants to change the subject.

“Why do you get dressed up for every class?” You look up from your note taking and cock an eyebrow at him.

“I could ask you the same.”

“But I don't.”

“Exactly.” You throw him a sarcastic smile. He smirks in response.

“So…?” He’s waiting for your answer. You sigh and place your pen down.

“Because I can.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

“Why do you care?” you ask, resuming your writing.

Changmin places his thumb and index finger on his chin to ponder. When he doesn't immediately reply you look back up at him. “I suppose I just find it interesting when the rest of the class are practically in pajamas or off camera. Are you trying to impress someone?”

“Maybe I just like looking my best.”

“But right now you look pretty casual.”

You look down at your attire and internally curse. Maybe you should have dressed up. As if reading your thoughts, Changmin quickly adds, “Not that you don’t look good. I like the way you look tonight too.”

You’re not sure how to reply to his flirtation attempt so you try to get back on task.

“I think the Professor is definitely going to have chapter 3 on the exam. He dedicated two of our lectures to it so I think we should review our mutual notes.”

Changmin pushes back on his chair, balancing on the back legs. He places his hands behind his head. “Mhmm,” he simply hums in agreement. You look up from your book and notice Changmin’s shirt has ridden up, exposing his midriff. His stomach is taut and toned. You try to continue your thought, but end up stuttering over your words. He reaches down and rubs his abs and that’s when you notice the veins leading down his stomach disappearing into his briefs. Changmin’s legs are slightly parted, giving you a full view of his lean body.

“Um,” You try to compose yourself, but struggle. “We..um..page 46…” Words fail as you start to imagine where those thick veins lead to.

“What was that, Y/n? Didn’t quite catch what you said.” You look at him and frown. He’s teasing you and you know it.

“What are you doing?” You ask, impatience in your tone.

“I see the way you watch me in class, Y/n.” Pleasure shoots down your spine and you shiver.

Attempting to feign ignorance, you turn away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I watch you too. Every time I see you roll your eyes at me I think about stuffing my cock down your throat to teach you a lesson.” You drop the pen in your hand.

“Wh-what did you just say?”

Changmin leans into the camera. His eyes shift down to stare at your mouth. “I think about the way those pretty lips would feel wrapped around my dick.” He closes his eyes briefly and moans as if imagining it right now. “Drives me wild. I look forward to seeing you every class. Thinking about ways I can piss you off.”

“Changmin…you shouldn’t say these things,” you squeak.

“I’ll stop if you really want me to.” He leans back in his chair again and crosses his arms. The veins on his toned forearms poke out and you gulp at the thought of them around you, his hands gripping your neck. You shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts. Changmin smirks and meets your eyes. “Do you want me to stop?” He palms his groin and you realize he’s hard.

“Fuck,” you say to yourself. Changmin places a hand around the outline of his dick and starts to stroke himself. You bite your lip as you watch him, feeling yourself growing wetter with each stroke. His eyes are on you as he slowly rubs up and down. A low groan escapes his throat.

“No,” you finally say.

“No what?” His voice is hoarse.

“No, don’t stop.”

Changmin pushes his sweats down slightly to give you a better view of his hard dick and for better access.

“Like what you see?” You nod enthusiastically and he chuckles.

“Does baby wanna see my cock?” You nod again.

“Use your words, Y/n,” he says sternly.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“I can’t hear you, baby.”

“Yes, I wanna see it.” Your voice is more confident.

“And what will you give me in return?”

Meeting his eyes, you ask, “What do you want, Changmin?”

“Take your shirt off.”

Completely committed to whatever this game is, you agree to pull your shirt over your head, leaving you just in your pink lacy bra.

“Mmm so pretty. What type of pants are you wearing?”

You tilt the screen of your laptop to give him a view of your whole body. You’re in a pair of sleep shorts. Pushing your desk chair out of the way, you stand. Changmin looks you up and down, finally getting the chance to admire your full form.

“Take your pants off, sweetheart.”

You shake your head. “Your shirt first.”

Changmin considers refusing you, but he thinks your demanding tone is hot and does as you say. His body is chiseled. You’re surprised at how tiny his waist is and it makes your mouth water. Starry eyed and mouth agape, you stare unabashedly now as he resumes touching himself.

“Y/n, take your shorts off.” He is growing impatient with each touch of his hand. You stand and drop them to the floor, revealing a matching pink lace thong.

“You got all dressed up for me, baby?”

“No…”

“I bet you wanted to show it off. Hoped this would happen, huh? Fucking slut.”

You scoff. “You’re so full of yourself.” Despite your words, you can feel how aroused you are. Feeling bold, you sit on the edge of your bed and spread your legs, giving him a view of your clothed pussy.

“Fuck, Y/n.” He starts to stroke himself faster.

“Take your pants off, Changmin.”

“Ooh, say my name again, baby!” he moans.

“Please Changmin,” you whine as need starts to take over you.

He stands and slides his sweats off. The head of his cock is peeking out of his briefs and you lean towards the camera a little for a better view. You want to touch yourself, but still feeling shy, you resign to rubbing your thighs instead. He sits back down, keeping his legs spread for you.

“I want to see your boobs.”

You chuckle and unhook your bra without hesitation. You're horny and want this as much as him now. He watches it fall to the ground. You move closer to the camera so he can see your breasts better and now his mouth drops. You smile at the way his body reacts to you.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Y/n. I just want to wrap my lips around your tits. Swirl my tongue until your nipples are hard.” You suck in a breath trying to hold back a moan. “Are they hard right now?” He wonders aloud.

You gently rub over your nipple knowing full well they’re erect. “Yes,” you say.

“Fuck I bet they taste amazing.”

“I wanna taste you, Min.” His eyes widen, surprised by your candor.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to fill your mouth with my come?” You nod eagerly.

“Let me see you,” you demand.

He shakes his head. “Need you to earn it, baby girl. What do I get in return if I take my cock out for you?” You take a moment to think, then sit back on your bed. Leaning on your hands, you spread your legs wide again and dip your fingers into your panties. A breathy moan escapes you at the contact. Changmin groans in response. “Yeah, baby. Touch yourself, like that.” You toss your head back at the feeling of your fingers on your sensitive clit. “Don’t take your eyes off of me, Y/n.” You face him again and continue to rub while he stares.

“Well?” You moan out. He nods understanding your question. Changmin lifts his waist and pushes his briefs off. His cock springs back, slapping against his abs while precum dripples down the sides. He looks so hard and you can tell he needs relief. You lick your lips at the sight of his long cock. “Touch yourself too, Changmin. Get off with me.”

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He spits in his hand and starts to fist his cock, squeezing his red tip with each pump. You pick up your pace, the sounds of your arousal and his slick fist echo around you. Your breathing starts to quicken and you can’t stop the moans that leave your lips. “Stick your fingers inside and pretend it’s me.” You do as you're told and try to reach your sensitive spot.

“Mmm not enough. I need you, baby,” you whine.

“I know, I wish I was there with you. Next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah, next time I’ll come over and fuck you for real.”

“Come over now then.”

“But you look so pretty touching yourself for me.” He tries to match your pace as you push in and out of yourself spreading your wetness back over your clit.

“Feels so good, Min. Wish you could have a taste.”

“Oh, fuuckkk. Baby, have a taste for me.” You pause momentarily, never having tasted yourself before, but you want to please him. Removing your fingers, you insert them into your mouth and sigh at the taste on your tongue. Changmin curses and starts to pump faster.

“Such a, fuck…such a good girl.” He can’t hide his moans anymore and you're surprised at how high pitched they are. It turns you on further so you return your fingers to your clit to rub harder. “I’m close, Y/n. So fucking close, but I wanna come with you.”

“Wait.” Impatiently, you take your panties off giving him a full view of your pussy. Changbin bites his lip as he looks over your body, watching the way your face contorts as you pleasure yourself. His orgasm is fast approaching.

“I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. I’m going to destroy you.” His words help bring you closer to your release, pleasure building with each bump to your clit. Your ministrations increase and you can feel the band about to snap.

“Min, I’m, I’m-” tears start to spring at the corners of your eyes. You’re so close. “Ah, ah, ah, ah.” Your cries increase.

“Yea, baby, fuck! I’m gonna come too.”

“I’m…Changmin, I’m…coming!” You gasp. Changmin shouts your name as he comes with you, spilling white hot liquid over his hand. He continues to pump himself through his orgasm and you do the same. Moaning and rubbing until your thighs start to shake. He looks into your eyes as the two of you try to recover your breathing. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears.

“Y/n, you’re so beautiful,” Changmin says suddenly. The compliment makes your heart flutter. He looks down at his covered hand, amazed at how hard he came.

“If I was there I’d lick you clean,” you say.

“I bet you would. Guess you’ll just have to show me next time.”

“Next time.” You agree.

Changmin walks off screen to wash his hand so you put your shirt and shorts back on. When he comes back, you sit back in your chair at your desk. Changmin notices how flushed your cheeks are. His attention makes you feel hot all over. You both sit in silence. He struggles to think of what to say next and you giggle at how nervous he suddenly seems.

“Not getting shy on me now are you, Min?” He rolls his eyes at your teasing and you both laugh.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Not sure if this study session was too helpful…”

Shaking your head, you chuckle before giving him a wave. “See you.”

“Good night, Y/n.” Changmin returns your wave.

“Good night.” You both smile at each other before closing out the zoom.

End.

116 notes · View notes

haeigoo · 8 months

Text

Found You (ZCL)

ღ pairing: idol!chenle x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun & jisung)

ღ description: based off a funny chenji incident

ღ word count: 1,562

ღ genre: established relationship, SLIGHT angst & fluff

ღ warnings: kissing, suggestive, swearing

ღ playlist: perfume by nct dojaejung, plot twist by niki, ours by taylor swift & when i met you by apo hiking society

ღ author's note: this is my first official fic that i wrote in years. and its all thanks to my love @lowkeyjaemle for being a huge help in the making of this au, go read her works HERE!

DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ!

You have been dating Chenle for seven months now and it is no surprise to you that your anniversary happens to fall on the same day as their third group comeback, ‘ISTJ.’ Both their managers and fans have not been so forgiving of you ever since your relationship came into fruition. Several complaints made their way to the company of Chenle allegedly taking sick days and leaving rehearsals early to be with you. It got worse when stolen photos of the two of you circulated online like wildfire on the day that he chose to ditch schedules. After New Years’ Day, the management released a statement about enforcing restrictions of all artists under the label from engaging with individuals outside professional relationships to avoid further mishaps that may hinder the flow of the business. This gut-wrenching news isolated you both but you knew exactly what you were getting into when you decided to join him in the public eye.

When the morning of your anniversary came, you were already used to waking up to cold mornings without Chenle. He trusted you enough to look after Daegal while he is at work but not even her presence could cheer you up. You only got to communicate with him through calls and last night, he had reassured you that his group was finishing up. Chenle was staring close through the screen, grinning while he reiterates how much he misses you. You let out a huge sigh before puckering your lips together to say goodbye as you ended the call.

You got up from the master bed and shimmied yourself up to look nice today. As you were showering, something at the back of your mind was eating out at you – How will this be any different from the last? What if I’m just another lost cause?

When you reached over to your closet, you saw the lustrous baby blue Sunday dress that you have been saving up to wear for weeks as it paired neatly with your black combat boots and faux leather handbag that Chenle got you last Christmas. You rushed downstairs to leave the house when suddenly your phone vibrated. It was a text from Chenle, he will unfortunately be working late tonight to make adjustments for the shoot. For a moment, you stood there frozen and stiff as your face dropped and your left hand made a fist. This always happens, you told yourself.

You caught yourself falling into the depths of despair since today was clearly a special occasion. You immediately locked the door behind you and walked outside with a stain in your heart. The cool breeze brushed through the locks of your hair, in the hopes of soothing your troubled soul when you spotted a perfume shop just around the corner. You were greeted by a variety of scents as you gracefully walked through the door of this well-lit establishment. After countless browsing, a Myrrh & Tonka cologne from Jo Malone caught your eye and took a few puffs from the sample available.

You were not notorious for using fragrances and Chenle knew that best. But the thought of wrapping yourself in a fresh bouquet of aromas unfamiliar to Chenle would surely have him by surprise. You picked up a piece and headed towards the cashier whose smile was glistening through the room.

“You find everything to your liking?” Jaehyun asked softly.

“Yup!” You nodded.

“You know, a whiff of this sensational notes of almond and vanilla will have anyone under your spell. May I ask, who’s the lucky man?”

“Zhong Chenle. You couldn’t miss even if you tried, Jaehyun.”

“Right. Well, tell him I said hi!” He chuckled as you bid you farewell.

You left the store feeling accomplished when you gazed upon the vast, hazy sky around you and knew by then, it was already sundown. You had called a taxi and dashed through the car door to hopefully catch Chenle still at the building. The driver had dropped you off just outside when you felt a shiver down your spine.

You took a deep breath as you stepped through the main entrance when your phone started buzzing, an incoming call from Chenle. You shook off your nerves and ignored the needy hollers of your boyfriend. You exited from the elevator and sprinted towards the practice room to find the lawless space empty with plastic bottles and chips scattered messily around the floor. After some time passed, you caught a glimpse of his tumbler across from you and that was the information you needed.

You went to check on the bathroom only to see from your peripheral, a drowsy Chenle with his head buried in his knees. You crouched down as you elevated his face to meet yours when you realized how droopy his eyes were from today’s schedule.

“I’m here, baby.” You exclaimed as you rubbed sweat off his forehead.

“(Y/N)? I’ve been worried sick. You didn’t answer me all day! What’s going with you?” Chenle blurted out.

“Chenle, this whole fiasco got to me! Being away from you was torture itself. So, I came by to surprise you.”

“Baby, having you in my life was the biggest plot twist I could ever ask for. I would replay the very first moment my heart belonged to you.”

“Have you been drinking? I’ve never heard those words before especially coming from you. Well, you better get up before anyone sees you like this!”

When you tapped his shoulders signaling him to stand up, he swiftly grabbed your wrist in lightning speed and dragged you to one of the stalls. Chenle abruptly shuts the door behind him which made a loud thud as he is brimming with excitement. He sits on the toilet seat and spreads his legs like a king on the throne while checking you from top to bottom. Clicking his tongue and smacking his thigh, encouraging you to delicately plop yourself onto him. Chenle had that smug expression wearing nothing but his black sweatpants, GSW T-shirt and white rubber shoes.

“Chenle, you’ll get your ass beat if your manager storms in on us!” You said incredulously.

“Baby girl, they’re never gonna find out because I know how to shut that beautiful mouth of yours.” Chenle remarked confidently with a smirk.

“This is serious, dude. I’m not taking my clothes off, you maniac!”

“Ugh, you’re no fun. Just sit on my lap. I need you close, baby.”

You diligently abide by his request and the next thing you know, Chenle’s hands are in between your thighs which makes you quiver. You promptly frowned at him, refusing to let him near you when all of a sudden, he took one hand away to cup your cheeks and pulled you in a deep, passionate yet sloppy kiss. The hand then travelled down your neck where he tightens his grip, making you scoff out a little cough. The moment you parted with his lips to catch your breath you throw your head back as you were holding onto his shoulders for support when he took notice of your scent.

“Baby, you smell so fucking good. What’d you put on?”

“Jo Malone perfume I bought from Jaehyun. I’ll explain later. You’ve a lot of catching up to do, mister.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” Chenle uttered under his breath as he flashed his signature crescent moon smile.

The further your bodies were intertwined, the more he got captivated by your scent. You completely lost yourself under your boyfriend’s touch when you hear footsteps outside the stall. Stomping loudly towards your direction, your eyes widen and hid your face onto his chest. When you hear the twist of the knob turn, you had already hoped it was his manager to usher you out of this hellhole. Instead, you glanced up to see a tall man hovering the both of you with a confused look plastered on his face. It was Park Jisung, all dressed in black ever so handsomely.

“Sorry, I didn’t know this was occupied. Hi (Y/N)! It’s been so long.” Jisung said as he scratches the back of his scalp.

“Hey, it was a surprise for this guy!” You stated as you tilt your head.

“Excuse me! Jisung, do you mind?” Chenle vocalized, motioning his hands together in a brisk fashion because he was already vexed at his best friend for walking in on you two.

“Yeah, I’m leaving. Bye (Y/N), it was really nice seeing you again!” Jisung responded with a playful wink as he closed the door.

You could sense Chenle fuming behind you, arguably pissed off from Jisung’s remark as you played along. Chenle’s cheeks had never gotten this red before, you could spot his furrowed brows and face flushed when you turned around to see him pouting his lips. This was one of the few times you ever saw your boyfriend sulky and admittedly enough, you found it cute.

“Aww, why the long face?” You said teasingly, pinching his plum cheeks.

“Because you seem to like Jisung more than me.” Chenle muttered defeatedly, shifting his gaze and not meeting yours.

“When we locked eyes for the first time, my heart knew what I needed and it was you. In a million timelines, I’d choose you. Chenle, you’re my north star.” You lovingly affirmed his tense face as you leaned closer and planted one last kiss.

152 notes · View notes

hellohannie · 4 months

Text

Return of the Enchantress (m) | ljh

“𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚.”

a year ago, jihoon had come across a forest nymph who had inadvertently stolen his heart. after a passionate night together, they agreed to meet again exactly a year later. here jihoon was now, exactly a year, down to the second, later. will you come to him? will he finally be able to take you home? part of the enchantress of the forest series. read part one here!

♡ PLAYERS - lee jihoon x reader

♡ WORD COUNT - 6.3K

♡ TAGS - fantasy au, faerie!reader, fluff, minor angst, smut (MDNI): fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it friends)

♡ NOTES - hi everyone! thank you so much for waiting patiently for me. things have been hectic for me and i haven't had the time to really sit and write. i also found myself just hating everything i wrote so i didn't want to upload anything

unfortunately, i don't see my update schedule being any quicker or more consistent in the near future, so i apologize for that. still, thank you to everyone who likes, comments and reblogs, it lets me know that there are people who enjoy my content, and it motivates me to write more!

THERE WILL BE A PART 3 and i promise it'll be updated sooner. i'm actually already a third of the way done with it right now. i just figured it would be better to split this part into two, so that's why there's another part. so please look forward to some conflicts and jihoon in faerieland? *wink wink*

i hope you all enjoy, and please be sure to interact! i love the feedback!

Jihoon’s breaths were loud and heavy as he sprinted through the forest, leaves and branches crunching under his footsteps. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. 5:58am. He pushed himself to run faster. He had two more minutes before the sun broke the horizon. Two more minutes until it was exactly a year since he last saw you. He thought about this moment every day for the past year and by God, did he hope you’d be waiting for him like he imagined in his dreams.

The campsite loomed into view as Jihoon came to a stop and took in his surroundings. The tent was gone, but the ring of bricks surrounding the bonfire was still there, only now covered in moss from lack of use. Jihoon’s chest felt tight as he remembered the way you were perched in front of it that fateful night, the first time he saw you.

Jihoon then walked up to the large oak tree you disappeared behind that next morning, staring in hopes that you’d materialize in front of it. He felt a buzz on his wrist. It was his watch telling him a new hour had started. It was six. The sky around him was a blend of pinks and blues and oranges as the sun arose, waking up the world.

Suddenly, Jihoon felt an itch on his pinky. “No, no no no.” He whispered, holding his left hand up to his face. It was his flower ring. The once perfectly bloomed dandelion was now dried and scratching his skin. The enchantment was gone.

Jihoon slid to his knees as he began to imagine the worst. It had been exactly a year since you left. You promised to meet him here, but you were nowhere to be found. Not only that, the enchantment on his ring was gone. That could only mean one thing. You must’ve lost your magic. The Queen must’ve denied your request to live on Earth and punished you.

Jihoon began to cry, wracked with guilt at the thought that it was his fault that you were met with such a fate. “Y/N,” he whimpered. “I’m so sorry-”

“Jihoon?”

The blond snapped his head up, brushing tears out of his eyes to clear his sight. There you stood, silhouetted by the backlight of the sun, like a vision from the dreams that plagued his every second. Jihoon shook his head as if clearing cobwebs from his mind, making sure that what he was seeing was reality and not a delusion.

“Jihoon Darling,” you took a step forward, concerned. “You are crying.”

Jihoon stayed frozen on the forest floor, staring at you. He was spellbound, reminded again of how beautiful you truly were. Like the first time he saw you, you were wearing a white dress that flowed like water around your calves as it caught the wind. However, the dress was far more intricate this time, with the sleeves coming to capped hems just below your elbow, causing the fabric to bubble around your arm like a balloon. The neckline was trimmed with eyelet lace, as was the skirt hem. The fabric was cinched in at your waist, held tight with a glimmering fabric tied into a bow.

Your hair had been loose and curled in ringlets a year ago, but now, it was weaved into a long, thick braid hanging over your shoulder. Millions of little flowers adorned the silky strands from the crown of your head to the very tip of the braid.

Jihoon’s eyes flitted across your face as you moved closer, taking in the details that had faded in his memory through the year. He re-memorized everything, from the slant of your eyes to the arch of your brows, the high bridge of your nose, the glimmer in your eyes as you looked at him so lovingly. The movement of your plush lips caught his attention first before your tinkling voice registered in his ears.

“Jihoon,” you giggled as he flinched, snapping himself out of your reverie. By now, you had crouched in front of him, hands placed gently at his elbows. “Come, let’s get you to your feet.”

As soon as you were both standing, Jihoon lunged to wrap his arms around your waist and lift you into a tight embrace. He felt all the tension leave his body as he heard your laughter in his ears and felt your arms glide around his neck. You were here. Finally.

“I missed you,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, breathing in the familiar petrichor scent that bled from your skin. “I missed you Faerie-”

“Ah,” you interrupted. “That, I am no longer.” You pulled back with a serene expression as Jihoon set you on your feet.

“What?”

“I am no longer a Faerie.”

That was when Jihoon realized that while there were so many parts of you that remained unchanged from the last time he saw you, there were also parts that were different. Your pointed ears were now rounded at the tips, and while you felt warm in his grasp, you did not feel nearly as fragile as before. Perhaps the biggest difference of all, you did not have the glow around your body that had first caught Jihoon’s attention all those days ago. Your skin didn’t shimmer as if you were otherworldly. Nothing about you screamed otherworldly. You look like him. You looked…

“Human,” Jihoon gasped. “You’re human? Meeting with the Queen, it worked?”

You nodded, a hand hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheek. “Are you disappointed? That I am ordinary.”

“No,” he responded fiercely, pulling you in closer by your waist. “You are not ordinary and you could never disappoint me. If you’re human, that means you left your world for me. A woman who is so brave as to leave behind all she’s ever known and loved for me is…is anything but ordinary.” He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. “I was worried this day would never come, that I would never get to hold you, kiss you, tell you that I love you.”

“You do not have to worry any longer, sweet Jihoon, I’m yours. Eternally.”

Jihoon is unsure who leaned in first, all he is aware of is the feeling of your pillowy lips against his own, and the feeling of finally being at home. His hands trailed up your sides up to your jaw, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. You parted your lips in a soft sigh, and Jihoon took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. With a quiet moan, you pushed your body closer to his, your kisses picking up speed.

“Jihoon,” you murmured, but he quickly silenced you with another kiss.

“Missed you so much, Y/N,” he groaned, lips brushing against yours with every word. “Missed you so much, don’t wanna let go, wish we could just teleport home.”

You slid your fingers into his hair, using the grip to tug him back. “Jihoon,” you said, a bit more sternly, with a sheepish grin. His eyes slid open lazily. “I’m afraid we have company.” Your eyes glanced to your right. His followed and widened as he took in the forest animals that encircled the two of you. All around him, perched in the grass were golden deer and silver bunnies, russet foxes and red squirrels. There were hummingbirds and butterflies littering the trees, while fireflies and honey bees buzzed around in the air.

You slipped out from his arms and glided over to a shimmering deer, gently petting its head. “There are my friends,” you turned to give Jihoon a blinding smile. “They kept me company as I looked after my part of the forest, long before I met you.”

Jihoon stared in awe as the animals moved to be near you, reveling in your laughter as you let the wildlife jump into your lap or sit on your shoulders. However, despite your laughter, Jihoon thought he could hear crying and whining. You must’ve heard the same because you said, “They are confused why I can no longer understand them and why they can no longer understand me.”

That’s right, Jihoon thought, when she was a faerie, she could communicate with them, but now that she’s given up her powers…

“Do you mind if I sing to them one last time before we go? They used to fall asleep to the sound of my voice, and I do not want them to see me leave. I would rather their last memory of me be something blissful.”

Jihoon nodded, taking a seat in the grass. Goosebumps arose on his skin as you began to sing, your voice both captivating and soothing. He watched as the animals around you began to lay down, eyes falling closed as your song sent them into dreamland. Jihoon, too, closed his eyes, not because he was falling asleep, but to give you even a semblance of privacy. Your song was not only a goodbye to your friends, but a goodbye to the only life you’d ever known, a life Jihoon was never a part of. It didn’t feel right to intrude on this last moment of yours.

By the time the two of you made your trek back to the houses the boys stayed at last time, the sun was already high in the sky. You did all of the talking, rambling on about the land of Faerie, and what you’d been doing this past year.

“I’ll admit,” you said, swinging yours and Jihoon’s arms as you walked, “The Queen was rather shocked when I made my request. I’d never expressed discontent with my position as a forest nymph before, so asking to have my powers stripped was unexpected. However, when I told her it was because I had fallen in love…” You looked up at him with an affectionate smile. “Well, she said it was the first time she was delighted to strip a Faerie of their powers.”

Jihoon sighed in relief. “I’m not going to lie, I was worried she might not have taken it so well.” He lifted your interlocked hands up and wiggled his pinky, the dried flower ring still wrapped around it. “When this happened, I was afraid you’d been punished.”

“Ah,” you soothed, “That must’ve been because my powers could no longer uphold the enchantment. There’s no need to worry, see?” You hopped in front and turned to face him, arms spread wide. “I’m just fine and here with you. We don’t need enchanted rings anymore. I can make you a new one every morning.”

Jihoon could feel his heart swell with adoration, your optimism endearing and contagious. Just as he stepped forward to swing you into his arms again, a soccer ball came rolling on the ground, bumping against your bare feet.

You made a questioning sound, bending to pick up the ball. “What is this?” You held it up to your face, brows furrowed in scrutiny.

“I’m so sor-woah,” a boy with brown and blond streaked hair jogged towards you, eyes wide, arms frozen from where they had been reaching to take the ball from you. “Who are you?”

You tilted your chin up slightly, face blank as you held yourself with an air of regality, similar to when you first encountered Jihoon. “I am Y/N, a forest n- I am Y/N. You are?”

The boy, still awe-struck, responded, “I’m wondering where you’ve been all my life.”

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon snapped from his spot slightly behind you. He took the ball gently from your fingers before chucking it at his friend’s shoulder. This shocked Soonyoung out of his trace and he glared at Jihoon while clutching his arm.

“Ow!”

“Soonyoung?” you whispered, unminding of the squabble happening next to you. “Soonyoung!” You explained louder, this time catching the boys’ attention. “You’re Jihoon’s best friend!”

Jihoon flushed bright red and Soonyoung began to coo, “Awhhh Jiiiii~ You’ve been telling strangers I’m your best friendddd~ Wait!” Soonyoung’s head snapped towards you. “Oh my God you’re the girl from the forest! The nymph!” He snatched up your hand and gave you a vigorous handshake. “Does this mean you’re coming home with us? Jihoon refused to tell us anything about you, wanted to keep you a secret.”

Your eyes darted between the hyper boy in front of you and the stoic one to the right, the latter rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, this is her, now let go,” Jihoon jerked Soonyoung back with a grip on his shoulder.

You laughed, a bit endeared by the energy vibrating in Soonyoung. He reminded you of the little pixies from home that zipped around from place to place in the blink of an eye. “It is nice to meet you Soonyoung. I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be joining you on your journey home.”

He shook his head frantically, “Of course not! C’mon,” he grabbed your elbow, albeit gently, “Everyone else has been dying to meet you!”

Soonyoung directed you towards the smattering of houses, Jihoon following closely behind. As the three of you approached, you could hear a cacophony of voices and laughter. Soonyoung brought you to an open space covered by a canopy, where eleven other boys were bent over something. The smell of food and smoke engulfed you as the boy holding your arm yelled, “Guys she’s here!”

In unison, all the heads snapped towards you. You took a step back into Jihoon’s chest, his hands coming to rest reassuringly on your shoulders. It was silent for just a moment before all hell broke loose.

“Oh my God!”

“You made it!”

“Oh she’s so precious!”

“I told you she’d come back!”

“Ugh fine you were right, here’s the $20 bucks.”

“Wait,” Jihoon moved you to the side and stepped towards two of the boys. “You bet on us?”

As the boys struggled to defend themselves, a familiar blond with long hair stepped towards you, a kind smile on his face. You recognized him from a year ago. He was at the tent with his partner the night before you met Jihoon. The one you thought might have Faerie blood running through his veins.

“Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Jeonghan. This is Joshua,” he gestured to the man standing beside him, “We were at the forest last year too.”

“I remember,” you ducked your head, wishing your hair was loose so it would hide your flushed cheeks. You remembered coming across their intimate moment, trying not to intrude, but unable to block out the noise due to your enhanced senses. Although, even now, without your powers, it was obvious these men were fated mates. They were truly in love.

Jeonghan and Joshua held back their laughter, not wanting to embarrass you any further.

Joshua leaned down a bit, lowering his voice. “I hope you don’t mind that we sent Jihoon to your forest the next day. He was feeling a bit stressed, and we hoped a night away would bring him some peace.”

You flushed even more at this, your collarbones starting to turn red. “It’s alright. I’m…thankful. Actually,” you picked your head up, looking them both in the eyes before clasping your hands in front of you and dipping into a slight curtsey, “I’m indebted to you both, for bringing my soulmate to me. I’m not sure we would ever have met if not for you.”

Jeonghan stepped forward, bringing you back to standing with a hold on your upper arms. “There is no need for that. You are one of us now Y/N, you’re family. Family does not hold debts.” Joshua nodded, giving you a soft pet on the back of your head.

Your chest felt warm. Family. You did not have a family in Faerieland. Yes you had friends of all different species, but no one that called you family. “I never had anyone to call family at home.”

The boys shared a pitying glance before bringing you into an embrace. “Well then,” said Joshua, “We are honored to be the first to call you sister.”

You sniffled, and it was loud enough to catch Jihoon’s attention. “She’s been here all of five minutes and the evil twins are already making her cry,” he grumbled, pulling you into his side. “C’mon let’s go inside before the rest of them harass you even more.”

You and Jihoon walked into the warm dining hall together, his brothers’ (and now your brothers’) laughter echoing behind you.

“Lunch is served!” the tallest boy, who you now know as Mingyu, announced as he took the lids off the twenty something dishes lining the lengthy table. You were sitting in the middle of one of the benches, as per Jihoon’s insistence, something about it being easy to reach all the food. Jeonghan, who was sitting on the other side of you, nudged your waist with his elbow. You moved your gaze from the food to Jeonghan who motioned with his chin to the table. “Ladies first.”

It was only then that you noticed no one was filling their plates. Rather, they were all looking at you expectantly, but excitedly, especially Mingyu. You felt shy under their gazes. “I’m…I’m not familiar with human food,” you glanced at Jihoon before turning towards Mingyu. “Would you be able to describe your dishes to me?”

Mingyu was bouncing on his feet. “Of course! No one has ever asked me before! So this…” As Mingyu began to explain each dish to you, you felt your mouth start to water more and more. That is until he got to the center dish. “And this is the main course for today, galbi. It’s grilled beef short ribs-”

You shrieked in horror, hands covering your mouth as you shot to your feet. Everyone, including Jihoon, stared at you in concern. “Faerie, what’s wrong?”

“You all eat cows?” You were appalled, and even felt a bit sick. In Faerieland, cows were sacred. They provided the people of your land with milk which allowed you to create butter, cheese and other products, like in the human world. In addition however, cow’s milk in Faerieland had healing properties, and could be used in potions or with pixie dust to create potent magic. Cows were cared for, they were your friends. You couldn’t imagine taking their life and eating them.

“I’m, I’m sorry, I-” you scrambled over the bench, giving them all a quick bow in apology. “I must step away.” You ran out the door.

The rest of the boys, in a stupor, turned to Jihoon for an explanation. The latter groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “I didn’t even realize, she probably doesn’t eat meat.” He quickly explained how the forest animals were your friends, so the same must be for all animals in Faerieland. “It’s my fault. I should’ve known better than to think the customs in our world would be the same as the ones in her world.”

“It’s ok Jihoon,” Seungcheol soothed. “You didn’t know. She’s not going to hold that against you. Now you know that there’s going to be a lot of things she needs to learn, but you won't be alone, we’ll all help, right?” He looked around the table. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

“Here Hyung,” Seungkwan handed Jihoon a plate full of vegetarian dishes. “Take this to her so she doesn’t starve. I think that’s a good place to start.”

Jihoon took the plate from the younger with a grateful look. “Thanks Kwan, thanks everyone.”

With that, he walked towards the guest house next to the mess hall calling out your name. “Y/N! Are you in here?” As he stepped into the house, he saw you curled into a ball, sitting on the couch. “Faerie, I’m so sorry. I should’ve remembered that our customs, including diets, are probably completely different. You even told me that animals are considered friends in Faerieland, I should’ve been more careful.”

“No,” you turned to face Jihoon who was sitting next to you on the couch, crossing your legs to sit criss-cross. “It is not your fault. I also should’ve been more composed. I hope you know I do not judge the food you eat. We all have different practices. There’s a lot I must learn about the human world, as expected. Mistakes will be made, but it is never the fault of you or I.” Your gaze shifted to the plate, and as if on cue, your stomach grumbled loudly.

You shot Jihoon a sheepish look as he laughed endearingly. “Here, Seungkwan piled the plate with vegetables. Do you want to try?” You nodded excitedly. “Ok, here, this is kimchi,” he held the chopsticks up to your mouth, watching expectantly as you chewed. “Good?” Your eyes were wide. “Guess so,” he laughed, picking up something else with the chopsticks. “This is tofu, it is made from crushed beans...” Jihoon watched fondly as you ate everything on the plate, glad that he was able to at least provide some food that you liked. He would make sure to be more diligent in the future as you continued to navigate life in the human world.

That night, you and Jihoon came across another slight issue. After dinner (at which time you apologized to everyone for making a spectacle and for potentially offending them and thanked Mingyu for making extra vegetarian food for you this time), Jihoon asked you to get ready for bed in his room as the members discussed their plans to return to Seoul the next day. He was exhausted as he walked back to his room, stressed from how he was going to explain to the company that he returned from vacation with a girl.

The shock he received when he opened the door however was enough to re-energize him. “Oh my God!” he shouted, quickly shutting the door behind him and turning to face it. “Why are you in your underwear?”

You answered innocently, “I always sleep like this. The cottages in our land get warm at night as we must close all the doors and windows. Though it is a bit cold in this room.”

Jihoon turned to catch a glimpse of your face, and saw goosebumps littering your skin. He quickly turned back around, moving to the closet near the door. He grabbed a soft shirt of his and tossed it over his shoulder towards where he hoped the bed was. “Put this on.”

The noise of clothes rustling filled the silence before you muttered, “Ok, done.”

Jihoon turned around, relieved that you were somewhat clothed now. “Faerie,” he knelt onto the bed beside you, but you refused to look at him, choosing to pick at a loose thread on the duvet. He placed a finger under your chin, turning your head towards him. Your lips were slightly pouted, eyes a bit teary. “I’m sorry for shouting, I was just surprised and also didn’t want anyone else to see you like that.” You nodded, understandingly. “But darling, you can’t just be in your underwear in the human world ok?”

You quirked your head in confusion. “Why not? It’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

Jihoon choked on his saliva. “I-yes that’s true, but it’s not so much that as it’s just common practice to wear clothes to bed. Sometimes, the room is really cold, so you’ll want to bundle up, understand?”

“Yeah…” you hesitated. “Ok. It’s just…This material is kind of scratchy.”

“That’s my fault,” Jihoon sighed. He never really cared too much about the condition of his home clothes, so usually, he’d just throw them in the washer and dryer without using softening agents. It was safe to say that quite a few of his clothes were not in the most pristine condition due to his lack of care. “I promise, as soon as we get back to Seoul tomorrow, we’ll go out and get you some comfortable clothes to sleep in.”

You conceded with a nod, leaning into his chest. “Are you excited to go home tomorrow?”

Jihoon shrugged. “I guess. I don’t necessarily want to get back to my usual life, but it’ll be nice to have you with me. Are you excited?”

You were silent for a while. “Would you be upset if I said no?”

Jihoon pulled you away from his chest by your shoulders. “No, but I’d be concerned. What’s the matter?”

You turned your gaze down to your lap. “It’s not that I’m not excited to live in your home, with you. It’s just that…I still feel a bit connected to Faerieland here, amongst the trees and nature. I suppose I’m just going to feel homesick for a while.”

“I understand that, Y/N, and it’s normal. Moving away from home is not easy, and the transition is hard. It might be even harder for you since this is a completely different world, I won’t lie, but I promise to be with you every step of the way. If you tell me whatever you're feeling, whenever you feel down, I’ll do everything I can to make it better, ok?” Jihoon cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. His eyes were so full of love, you couldn’t help but surge forward to kiss him. A gasp of surprise caught in his throat as he quickly reciprocated.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips. “Thank you for finding me, for loving me, for giving me hope that I belong somewhere, with someone, with you.” You brought your right hand up to his chest, placing it over his heart. He did the same, leaning in to kiss you in time with the synchronized beating of your hearts.

“Wait,” Jihoon tried to speak, but you kept kissing him anyway. He chuckled, “Faerie, wait. We have to talk about the plan tomorrow.”

You shook your head vehemently, “Not right now.” You nipped at his bottom lip, smirking as he hissed. “Wanna keep doing this.”

With a firm hand and the shock factor on your side, you pushed Jihoon down onto the bed, crawling to sit on his thighs. You traced a lone finger along his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks. Your lips followed behind your finger, peppering kisses to every inch of his face. Jihoon’s hands came to grip your waist tightly as you moved to his neck, kisses becoming more firm, teeth nipping at the skin. You slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt, your touch tickling his abdomen.

Jihoon moved your face back to his, taking the lead to deepen the kiss this time. He moved a hand to your hair, fingers getting caught on the flowers thread into the ridges of the braids. Slowly, he sat up, still holding your body to his. Then he pulled away, pulling at the ribbon at the end of your braid, placing it gently on the bedside table.

“Turn around,” he murmured. You did so, wondering what he was doing as you felt the bed dip behind you. Jihoon was kneeling now, delicately undoing your hair, taking care not to crush any of the petals he pulled out. “Your hair looked so pretty, didn't want to ruin it.”

You tilted your head into his hands, humming as he massaged your scalp. “The younglings of the court did it for me. The Queen held a farewell ceremony for me, where I could hand over my powers to my successor and say goodbye to everyone. It’s also why I was wearing a much more intricate dress.” Jihoon took note of the dress you had draped onto the chaise lounge in the corner of his room, making a mental note to find a garment bag to place it in while packing tomorrow. “The flowers are handpicked from the Queen’s court. Nymphs rarely get to see those blooms, let alone hold them. I wish I had asked a flora nymph to enchant them so they would never wilt.”

Jihoon placed a kiss behind your ear, hoping to distract you from the regret seeping into your voice. “They are beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, causing you to giggle from the way his breath tickled, “but not nearly as beautiful as you.”

You snorted, and in that moment, you sounded more human than ever. “Cheesy.”

You squealed as Jihoon pulled you back onto the pillows, pinning your hands by your head as he hovered over you. “But it’s true, and I’ll tell you that over and over until I can’t speak a word anymore. I want it to be the first thing you hear in the morning and the last thing you hear before you go to bed. You’re beautiful. And I love you.”

You blushed, the color in your cheeks highlighted against the white pillows cushioning your head. Jihoon had a way with words that left you winded every time. “I love you too. Will you kiss me again?”

“Gladly.” Jihoon kissed you until you were breathless, and it filled him with pride. The last time you two were together, you were an otherworldly creature. You didn’t lose your breath when he kissed you. Your skin didn’t sweat or flush as much. You didn’t look affected by his ministrations at all. This time though, you were human, so your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your skin was pink and your bangs clung to your forehead, wet with perspiration.

And Jihoon loved it.

He walked the fingers of his left hand from your forearm to your own, entangling them. At the same time, he brought his right hand down to trace the top of your thigh, just below where the hem of his t-shirt lay. You shivered, his gentle touch causing a fire to ignite in your belly.

With one hand still holding your own, Jihoon slipped the other one under your shirt and up your body, placing it on your bra, over your breast. He used the tip of his index finger to trace down your cleavage.

You whined, “Don’t tease.”

Jihoon relented, pulling the cup of your bra down and squeezing your breast. Your nipple pebbled instantly against his palm and you groaned into his mouth when he pinched it with his fingers. Now desperate for more, Jihoon moved his hand to your back, effortlessly undoing the clasp with one hand. Then, he pulled away, ripping your shirt, bra and panties off your body until you laid bare beneath him.

He stared, bewitched by your beauty. Last time, it was night and the moonlight was blocked by the tent, preventing Jihoon from truly seeing you. Now, with the illumination from the bedside lamps, Jihoon could truly admire you. He let his eyes roam every expanse of skin on your body. He took note of the moles and scars he couldn’t see before, each one adding to your beauty.

“You’re a vision, Y/N,” he whispered, not wanting to shatter the atmosphere enveloping you both. “Want to cherish every piece of you.” He placed a dainty kiss on your sternum. “Will you let me, my love?”

You answered with an impatient whimper, thrusting your chest towards his face. Jihoon let out a huff of laughter and took your nipple into his mouth. You tangled your fingers into his hair, forcing his mouth to your other breast after he spent a few minutes sucking and biting the first one raw.

Jihoon took his time with you, placing kisses and sucking bruises into the swell of your breasts, the plush of your belly, down to the tops of your thighs. Then he wrapped his hands around your knees, making them bend until your feet were pressed into the mattress before spreading them apart. He nearly groaned out loud at the way your pussy glistened with wetness. Sliding his arms down to wrap around your thighs, Jihoon used the grip to lurch your body down the bed, bringing your cunt to his mouth.

You squealed, back arching when you felt the suction of his lips on your clit. He hadn’t done this the last time, and the slippery sensation of Jihoon’s tongue was only feeding the flames in your belly. You wanted-

“More,” you moaned. “Need more Ji.”

“Yeah?” Jihoon traced your opening with his finger, dipping just his nail inside. “Little Faerie isn’t satisfied? Always greedy for more.”

You whined his name again, wriggling against the iron grip he had on your thighs that kept you from sliding down on his finger.

“Don’t worry, you know I’ll always take care of you.” With that, Jihoon slipped two fingers inside of you, curling them up until they brushed just right against your g-spot. Your hands shot down to his head, pressing him deeper into your pussy as you tried to push your knees together. Jihoon loosened his grip, allowing you to bring your thighs against his face, keeping him locked. Jihoon thought he’d be content to die like this, with a tombstone that read: Here lies Lee Jihoon, death by suffocation in pussy.

Your fingers curled tighter into his hair as you cried, “I’m so close. Jihoon.” One last suck of your clit was all it took, and with a strangled sob, you gushed around his fingers, the silken walls pulsating. Your hands flung from his hair to the sheets, where you gripped them like a lifeline. Jihoon held your ankles as your thighs quivered, hips nearly coming off the bed as you bent up like a bowstring. Your mouth was open as you let out a loud moan, eyes rolled back so far you could see white. After a few seconds, your legs fell limply to the bed as you came down from your high.

Jihoon laughed as he pressed a wet kiss to your lips. “You have to be more quiet, Faerie. Don’t want the other guys to hear what a deviant you really are.”

You muttered a sheepish apology as you wrapped your legs around Jihoon's waist, pitching your middle up to grind against the bulge in his pants. You pawed at his shirt, pulling at the collar to send him a message that you wanted it off. As Jihoon tore his shirt over his head, you pushed up onto your elbows, placing feather light kisses to his pecs. Your fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants, shoving it down, along with his boxers. Jihoon hissed at the way your hand encircled his hard cock, thumb grazing the tip to collect his precum and spread it down the shaft.

You waited until he managed to kick the fabric away from his ankles before gently tugging him forward with the hand on his dick, angling it towards your entrance.

“Already?” he asked, astounded. “You’re not sensitive?”

“Don’t care,” you mumbled, reaching up to place your lips against his ear. “I’m so desperate for you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon tipped his head towards the ceiling and groaned, “Fuuuuck.” When he looked down at you again, now splayed out onto the sheets like a doll, his pupils were blown, eyes alight with desire. “I’m gonna ruin you, Faerie.”

He flipped you over, hauling you onto your knees. He pressed his chest to your back, guiding the corner of the duvet into your mouth. “Bite down on this. You’ll need it to stay quiet.” You did as he asked, earning a kiss to your temple before he leaned back up.

Then, he brought his cock to you, tracing the tip of it along your pussylips to gather the slickness. “Ready?”

One nod was all it took for Jihoon to thrust the entirety of his length into you. Your eyes screwed shut, scream muffled by the cloth in your mouth. Jihoon set off at an incredible speed, the force moving your body up towards the headboard. A veiny forearm wrapped around your chest, just under your tits, yanking you up onto all fours. Your teeth dug into the duvet, refusing to let it go despite it being wet with your saliva and tears.

“You’re so tight baby,” Jihoon’s voice was strained, as if it was taking everything he had not to come at the sensation of your cunt gripping him. He bit down onto your shoulder, sucking a constellation of bruises onto your shoulder blade.

A particularly sharp thrust caused your mouth to drop open in a strangled gasp. “Feels so good, oh my God, oh,” you babbled. “Thought about this every day since I left. Needed it so badly. Ached for you, Jihoon.”

“Naughty nymph,” Jihoon mock scolded. “Bet you touched yourself thinking about me, huh? All alone in the dark, trying so hard to stay quiet, with your little fingers stuffed in your pussy. It wasn’t enough though was it? Needed me there with you, to feel you, touch you, make you cum. Isn’t that right.”

“Yes, wasn't enough without you,” you moaned. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

“Never,” Jihoon growled, the hand not holding you up moving to draw messy circles on your clit. “You’re mine, Faerie. Gonna fuck you like this every hour of every day. Never letting you off my cock.”

You cried his name like a prayer, letting his words send you crashing into your second orgasm. It felt wet and slippery. You could feel the inside of your things get soaked, but you didn’t have the energy to care. All you had left in you was one last clench of your walls, and it was just enough to send Jihoon to his release as well. He groaned loudly, fingers digging into your sides so hard you were sure the skin would bruise. His hips were pressed tightly against your ass, breath warm against your spine where his head was resting. Together, you both flopped forward onto the bed.

You laid there, wrapped up in each other, until your breathing returned to normal. Jihoon shivered as he pulled out of you, placing an apologetic kiss to your shoulder when you whined. “Have to clean you up, love. One minute.”

After using a wet cloth to wipe you both down, he sent you to the bathroom. In the meantime, he replaced the sheets on the bed, shocked at the amount of wetness soaking them. That’s something we’ll have to explore again, he thought.

When you returned from the bathroom, he slipped his shirt onto your body again, joining you under the duvet after slipping on a fresh pair of boxers himself. He smiled as you snuggled up to his side, placing your ear against his heart.

“I love you, my Fate. I’m so thankful that it’s you I get to be with for the rest of my days,” you whispered, eyelids getting heavy.

“Me too, my love. Me too,” Jihoon said, placing a kiss on your head as you fell asleep. He was still unsure how to bring you up to the agency, and how to assimilate you into his life in the human world, but that was a worry for tomorrow. For right now, he chose to revel in how perfectly you fit in his arms, and how his heartbeat matched your own. He chose to trust the universe, because it brought him to you.

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #kpop #fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #lee jihoon #jihoon #woozi #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #jihoon x reader #jihoon fluff #jihoon smut #woozi x reader #woozi smut #woozi fluff #seventeen fic

96 notes · View notes

literallykenmaandshoyo · 11 months

Text

Half Of My Heart

TimeSkip!Satori Tendou x Female!Reader

Warnings: Language, Satori and Reader are both oblivious ASF, Wakatoshi and Reader are lowkey besties~, just fluff!

Word Count: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I spent a lot of time with Mod Kenma the other day and it was the absolute best! We were talking a lot about our AU's and headcanons that we have and we even wrote for a while together! My visit was long overdue! Anyways, this is the last Tendou fic (Maybe) That I'll be writing for a while! I love time skip Satori so so much! I'm a little iffy on how I ended things, but hopefully you all like it! Enjoy everyone <3 ~Mod Shoyo <3

It was so painstakingly obvious that Tendou had a crush.

She wasn’t just some girl he saw walking around school, someone that he just happened to run into by pure luck. She was perfect. From the very first time he saw her standing on the opposite side of the court at one of his games, he knew that she was going to be the love of his life. He was never one to believe in soulmates or love at first sight, but she managed to change his mind. He could see the red string tying their hearts together, the moment that she met his gaze he knew that he needed to have her.

His entire third year at Shiratorizawa was spent pining over her. Asking her to come visit his dorm so they could read manga together, taking her to his favorite bakeries and cafes, inviting her over to help him “practice” when he knew that he did enough of that already. Any excuse that he could find to spend time with her, he never hesitated to make plans.

Tendou couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes when he saw her at his graduation ceremony. He could hear her screaming and cheering for him when he picked up his diploma from the principal’s hands. She was still a second year, yet she didn’t miss a beat when it came to supporting him. She came to see him and Ushijima graduate and get on with their lives. He remembered leaning over to tell Wakatoshi that she had come. The face that Ushijima made was forever engraved in his mind. Ushijima smiled as brightly as he ever had before.

“Where is she sitting?”

After the ceremony, Y/N walked out to meet their best friends with open arms. Ushijima pulled her into a tight hug and thanked them what sounded like a million times for coming. Y/N then excitedly threw herself at Tendou, the bouquet of red tulips that she had bought for him being flung around a little too harshly. She didn’t care, though.

“I’m so proud of you, Tori.” The waterworks started up and soon enough, Satori was wiping the salty tears that rolled down his cheeks.

He looked down at the bouquet in her hands and gave her a big smile. The dimples that turned his lips upward were on full display and Y/N could feel her heart melting. She outstretched the flowers towards him with slightly shaking hands and a quivering lip.

“These are for you. I picked the prettiest red flowers I could find just for you, I can’t tell you enough how happy I am for you.”

That’s when tears started to roll down Y/N’s cheeks and her quivering lips shifted into a sad pout. She sniffled and wiped away her tears, looking down at her shoes to avoid Satori’s gaze. Tendou felt his heart shatter for her. Yet somehow, just a small part of his mind couldn’t help but be elated at the fact that she cared about him enough to cry over the fact that he was leaving soon.

“Now, now, why is such a pretty lady crying over little ‘ol me?”

Even on the saddest day of his life, he still managed to sound just as energetic as always.

“Don’t you shed another tear over this.”

Tendou curled his index finger and used it to wipe the stray tear that just fell from her eyes. He happily took the flowers from her hands and brought them up to his nose for him to sniff. He let out a happy sigh and set them down safely. He was quick to bring her into his arms for a more intimate hug this time. He was petting her hair and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Despite how sweet those flowers smelled, nothing quite matched the way that she always smelled. He had grown fond of the shampoo and conditioner she used, as well as the lotions and perfumes she’d use. You’d think that it would be a jumble of a bunch of random smells, but it was quite the opposite. She smelled delicious to him, every single scent of her products blended together and created a scent that was absolutely unmatched.

That night, Satori planned on spilling his guts.

He was going to tell her about how he’s felt for the entire school year and that he wanted nothing more than for her to be his. But when finally had a moment to himself, he found himself thinking it was rather selfish of him. How could he tell her that he was in love with her when he was just about to leave for Paris and start his career? To have her just sit here and wait for him until the next time they got to visit each other was something that he couldn’t bear to think of. So instead, he settled for kissing her. He didn’t even get to kiss her for as long as he wanted to, but it's a form of intimacy he’s wanted to share with her for so long. So many times he had to hold himself back and remember that best friends don’t kiss each other, that he had to limit himself no matter how badly he wanted to. He felt her kiss him back and that’s all the reassurance he needed.

“Until next time,” He sighed.

It had been two years since Tendou had left for Paris. Y/N couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he didn’t get to make it to her graduation. But from what she’s heard from Wakatoshi, Tendou’s career had really taken off.

Despite Satori saying that he wanted to get interviewed when they made a documentary about Ushijima’s life during high school, it was actually Ushijima that got interviewed when Satori earned himself a show on TV. ‘Miracle Sweets’ had gotten popular in France and the show was getting broadcasted everywhere. Y/N had the pleasure of watching the debut of the show.

He shaved his head.

That was the first thing she noticed and it made her giggle. Despite the buzzcut he had, he was still the same old Satori. He measured his chocolate mixtures with feeling, he baked and cooked with love, he sounded the same.

On one special episode, Y/N noticed that he had subtly mentioned her while he was waiting for the mixture to set. She was doing the dishes while watching the show. The second that he mentioned her, she dropped a glass cup on the floor and didn’t even flinch when it shattered at her feet.

“I’m making this chocolate for a good friend of mine. She always told me how she loved the Ferrero Rocher chocolates and I made it a mission to always get them for her when I could.” He smiled to himself and looked down into the bowl fondly.

“Paradise, if you’re watching this, I hope you think these chocolates look just as delicious as your Ferrero Rocher’s”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes once more. She finally felt like moving and quickly swept up the cup she had dropped onto the floor. In a frenzy, she looked for her phone and dialed Wakatoshi’s number.

“Do you play in France anytime soon?”

A few months later, Y/N was on a plane to Paris to go and watch one of Ushijima’s games. Despite how much she loved to support Waka at his games, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if Satori would be close by. Maybe one of his stores was nearby, or maybe he’d come to the game as a surprise to support Wakatoshi.

Y/N sighed anxiously as the plane started to land. What if there was a reason he hadn't contacted her? She didn't have his new number, none of his socials, all she knew about him was whatever she heard on TV or from Wakatoshi.

She just hoped that coming to Paris was a good idea.

The days leading up to Ushijima’s game were filled with lots of “sightseeing” and touring all around Paris. Y/N had actually found the famous bakery that Tendou owned now, but when asking to see him, she was told that he had taken a vacation week and wasn’t going to be back until next week. She felt hopeless. Her brain started to flood with memories and every single one made her question whether or not it was a good idea to even try and find him. He was busy, he was so successful, why would he have time for someone that had a crush on him in high school?

Y/N decided that she would just make the rest of her time in Paris with Waka.

Y/N quickly started to have fun once she was watching Ushijima in his element. She'd been doing this since they started attending his games in high school. Every time he was on the court he was always a force to be reckoned with. It was crazy to know that even as an adult now, he still managed to intimidate and confuse players with his talent the same way he did as a fresh eighteen year old.

The game was so intriguing to watch; nothing new. Y/N felt like she was going to lose her voices in the morning from how much she had screamed and cheered for Wakatoshi. It all felt so nostalgic. Once the Adlers had won the game, adding onto their winning streak of ten games in a row, Y/N made her way down from the stands to the court to meet up with Ushijima. Upon seeing her, Wakatoshi smiled and wiped his face with the towel he was given. He opened his arms for her and brought her in for a small hug

“Did you have any luck finding Tendou?”

Y/N shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I just figured I’d stop looking. I’ve spent so long looking for him,”

Ushijima let out a dissatisfied hum. “That’s not like you at all,”

Y/N raised an eyebrow and met eyes with the professional volleyball player. “The Y/N that Tendou introduced me to in high school was persistent, and didn’t give up. Why would you give up on searching for him?”

Y/N couldn’t help but agree with Ushijima, but she also thought about how defeated and sad she's been since she landed in France. It was tiring to spend all two years searching for someone and feel like they’re not even bothering to do the same. She’s just tired of looking and feeling like everything was so one-sided.

“I’ve had something to tell him for two years, Waka. I’ve held onto it for two years but I still don’t even know if he’d like what he hears, or if he even wants to hear it. It’s exhausting.”

Ushijima just stayed quiet. After grabbing all of his things, the two of them walked out of the stadium to look for somewhere to eat dinner before heading back to the hotel they had booked. It was freezing outside and Y/N wished that she would have packed warmer things, then again, it was summer time. The nights normally aren’t this cold.

The sounds of volleyball fans calling out to Ushijima were sitting behind Y/N’s head as they continued to walk to the restaurant. She wondered how Ushijima had grown so accustomed to just ignoring everyone’s screams, Y/N felt like her head was going to explode if she heard one more person ask Ushijima for a picture or for his autograph. Then again, Ushijima was already a tough cookie to break.

“Wakatoshi!” There it was again.

Y/N wanted to cover her ears like a little kid to drown out all of the noise. Her head was pounding and all of the cameras that were flashing and following them made her want to just go home, pop some Excedrins, and go to bed.

“Wakatoshi-kun!”

Just keep walking. Y/N kept repeating this in her head as she took each step. She was following directly behind Ushijima, who kept turning around to make sure that Y/N was still behind him every little while. Y/N didn’t hate being Ushijima's friend at all, but she the baggage it came with. She looked like she was just following Ushijima around like a lost puppy. Like some dog that was trying to find its way back home.

“Ushiwaka-kun!”

Ushijima stopped dead in his tracks and it made Y/N crash into his back. Y/N groaned and looked up at Ushijima, only to see that he had vanished already. When Y/N turned around, all of her discouraged and ugly thoughts from while they were walking completely vanished.

“I-Is that?”

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes, she felt like she was going to cry and throw up at the same time. Her heart was pounding against her chest, she felt like it was going to break through her skin and jump out of her body. Her breathing was erratic and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was so gorgeous. Even with his crazy red hair gone, she still couldn’t help but fawn over him. Her Tendou. Her Satori. He was finally here, right in front of her.

Ushijima was hugging him, laughing at something that she couldn’t hear them talking about. It wasn’t until one of Wakatoshi’s slender fingers pointed into her direction that Tendou’s ruby eyes finally shifted over to look at her. The lump in the back of Y/N's throat was sore. She couldn’t even speak. Everything felt like it was in slow-motion.

Her legs weren’t walking fast enough, her mouth wasn’t moving fast enough, her heartbeat stilled inside of her chest the second that his eyes met her own. Her hearing was gone, she couldn’t focus on one audible thing around her. But thank god she could read lips, because she saw his lips move to speak her name.

Tendou pushed through the crowd of people to get to her, his still tall and lanky figure towering over her short stature. Her dark doe eyes stared up at him in wonder and her lip was quivering again, just like when he left after graduation. This feeling in his chest was like an old friend. His heart was thumping at the sight of her, his legs felt weak and his knees were ready to buckle.

“Look at you,” Tendou scoffed in disbelief. “Is that really you?”

Y/N nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face.

“It’s me, It’s me!”

Tendou wore a bright smile and nearly tackled her to the ground once she responded to him. His arms engulfed her into a hug and he lifted her off the ground, digging his nose into the crook of her neck. She still smelled exactly the same, the same scent that he absolutely adored. It was flooding his senses and he felt like he was home again. One of his hands gripped the back of her head to hold her impossibly closer to him, while the other was wrapped around her waist.

“You’re still as beautiful as ever, Paradise. You haven’t changed a bit.”

Y/N smiled through her dampened eyelashes. “You still look just like my Tori, just with no hair!”

The pair of old friends giggled and intertwined themselves together once more in another hug.

Tendou turned to face Wakatoshi now, still holding onto Y/N tightly. “You guys should come to my place! Have you eaten yet? I’d love to cook for you and catch up!”

Ushijima smiled. With an affirmative nod, Tendou was leading the two of them back to his house, Y/N's hand tightly woven with his fingers.

Tendou’s success was very noticeable once you saw his house. Despite the mansion that most people would assume he’d have, it was actually just a very nice, modern two-story house. His front yard’s grass was perfectly trimmed, the car that was in the driveway obviously wasn’t cheap, yet he somehow still managed to keep it on the more humble side.

Third-year Tendou probably would’ve bought a Lamborghini just for the sake of saying he had enough money to buy one, but this Tendou seemed to have matured a great deal. He was living in luxury, but he still managed to keep himself humble with everything his money went to.

Watching Satori in the kitchen was just as riveting as watching Ushijima play volleyball. He was in his element, throwing spices into the pan and using his heart to cook. This was the first time since watching him play in high school that Y/N really noticed how focused he was. Tendou in the kitchen was by no means quiet, however. He was keeping conversation almost effortlessly while he waited for the soup he was making to simmer.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been home to visit in a while,” Tendou sighed. “This business is really taking it out of me, there’s always something to do once I finish one thing.”

After the soup was served, Tendou was pleased to see that Y/N had gone for thirds. Ushijima had gotten so full that he felt ready to head to bed the second he finished his second bowl. Tendou offered to let Y/N stay with him, so Ushijima could have no worries when heading back to his hotel. After Wakatoshi double checked, he left, hugging Tendou tightly and thanking him for dinner.

Once it was Satori and Y/N all alone, that’s when the gravity of how long it had been since they’d seen each other really sank in.

“I never stopped waiting, you know.” Y/N spoke up. Tendou looked at her from across his dining table and sat up taller. “These past two years, I’ve waited for a sign, or for an opportunity that would lead me to you.”

Tendou looked down at his fingers that were tapping on the glass table. “I didn’t stop thinking about you. Not for a second.” He replied.

Y/N let out a small huff and looked up at him. “I tried to find ways to contact you, the only way I managed to get through was by telling Ushijima to text you that I was thinking of you and missed you.”

Satori stayed quiet. “You know, I’ve been holding onto something for so long, and I really need to get it out. I meant to tell you the last night that I saw you before I left, but no time ever felt right.”

Y/N raised a brow and waited for him to explain himself. “That night, when I kissed you.” He began. “I didn’t plan on kissing you. I was actually going to confess. I was going to tell you that I was in love with you and I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N’s heart sank in her chest. She could’ve had him two years ago? She could have avoided all of this had he confessed that night? Had she confessed that night? She was too lost in the ‘what if’s’ to even respond to his story.

“I figured it’d be selfish of me to tell you that I was in love with you and then just get up and leave for Paris the next morning.”

Y/N was speechless. She got up from her chair across from him at the table, and moved to the one that was right next to his seat instead.

“Tori, you really meant to confess to me?”

He nodded and rubbed his face with his hands. He let out a harsh sigh. “Not confessing to you that night is one of the biggest regrets of my life. I probably would’ve been able to have you here with me while I go through all of this. I wouldn’t have been so alone, and I’d be even happier because the woman that I love would be right by my side.”

Y/N could feel a blush rising up to her cheeks. He wasn’t even speaking in the past tense about his feelings. It was a small detail, but it changed the entire meaning of everything he said. The woman that I love.

“I meant to tell you my feelings for you on the day of your graduation. Ushi helped me pick out red tulips because they symbolize confession. But when I was at your graduation party, I just got so nervous and choked up and I couldn’t do it. I kinda just silently prayed you’d read into the text a little bit more and research the flowers.”

Satori’s head picked up and his eyes locked with hers. That thumping of his heart came back once more and a smile spread across his face. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how well these two years had done him. He still looked like third-year Satori, but something in the way he spoke now showed more confidence. None of that false arrogance that he had when he spoke to people was there anymore. He seemed comfortable with who he was finally, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel emotional noticing that.

“Well, looks like we were both too scared to say anything, huh?”

She sighed through her nostrils and shook her head. “Guess so,” She let out a soft chuckle and looked back up at Tendou.

His ruby eyes were piercing through hers, she felt so warm under his gaze. The silence between them was so uncomfortable, Y/N never had to sit in silence with Tendou like this ever. After getting what they needed to say off their chests, she wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Do you,” Tendou began. He paused almost as if he was going to regret asking his question. “Still feel the same?

Y/N looked down at her lap again and twiddled with her thumbs for a bit.

This was so hard to admit. How was she going to just tell him that the whole reason she’d been waiting for him throughout these two years is because she thought she still had a chance with him? That she turned down multiple confessions and dates because she felt like she was betraying him.

“It’s been two years,” She spoke hoarsely. “And my feelings haven’t changed one bit.”

The weight of the world came off of Tendou’s shoulders. He sat up straighter in his seat and he couldn’t help the excited smile that spread across his face. The more that he stared at her, the more he could feel his feelings for her rushing back to him.

Although, they never truly left.

Every time he was making a new chocolate, or experimenting with sweets at his shop, he couldn’t help but think of her and what she would think of his new creations. He’d fantasized about her being in the kitchen with him, begging to lick the spoon that he had mixed his chocolate with. He would giggle to himself when he would imagine her cute little face scrunching up with delight once she realized how delicious his concoctions were. He imagined her face looking the same as when he first introduced her to one of his favorite bakeries and he had her try a chocolate croissant. Her eyes were tightly shut and she was licking melted chocolate off her fingers, humming with delight as she licked her lips.

Tendou cleared his throat to clear the silence between them once more. His eyes lit up with excitement and then he stood up from his chair to head over to the fridge. “Actually, now that you’re here with me, I need you to try something for me.”

Y/N shimmied in her chair a bit. “Ooh! I was actually going to buy something from your shop when I was looking for you earlier today, everything looked so delicious!”

Tendou chuckled and puffed his chest out confidently. He pulled a tray out of his freezer that was covered with plastic wrap and pulled the wrap off. Just by Y/N taking a peak, she immediately saw that it was chocolate. She smiled eagerly and watched him put a couple pieces on a small plate.

“Well, this item is off the menu until further notice,” Satori smirked, placing the plate down in front of her.

“Tell me what you think.”

Y/N picked up the chocolate in between her pointer finger and thumb. Tendou was standing off to the side with his hands behind his back to wait for her thoughts. He looked like the contestants on those competitive cooking shows waiting to hear feedback from the famous chef that’s judging them. But Y/N didn’t have nowhere near as refined taste buds as a famous chef. Tendou could feel his heart pounding in his chest the second that her perfect lips wrapped around his creation.

She curled her hand into a fist and banged it onto the table a couple of times. Tendou chuckled at her reaction and waited for her to swallow to hear her start talking about what she just tasted.

“Tori, this is the most delicious thing I have ever put in my mouth.” She sighed. “I want to buy a hundred dollars worth of this so I can have it when I’m back home!”

Satori’s smile only widened at her praise and his heart felt full. His eyes looked like half-crescent moons when he smiled and Y/N was too busy appreciating her third piece of chocolate that she had popped into her mouth.

I’m so so glad that you like it,” Tendou sighs in relief. “Because I made them just for you. I named them Paradise chocolates. I was waiting for your approval so that way I can put it as a special item on the menu.”

Y/N gasped and looked into Tendou’s eyes. She stood up from her seat and wrapped her arms around Satori excitedly. “Tori, you’re serious? That’s so sweet of you!”

Satori gladly accepted her hug and held her close to him. He forgot how good it felt to have her in his arms. After working his limbs to the bone every single day and coming home so exhausted, he’d kill to have her waiting for him as soon as he walks through the door. More than anything, he wanted to see her standing in the doorway waiting for him, her cute little face adorning that gorgeous smile she has with open arms.

Y/N pulled away from their hug and looked up into his ruby eyes. The two of them had yet another moment of silence fall over them, but this one was different. There was a tension that the both of them were too oblivious to notice. Tendou’s eyes fell from her eyes to her lips, shifting back and forth between the two features of her face a couple of times. They both started to inch closer to each other’s faces slowly, as if they were unsure of what the other would think of their actions. Tendou was finally the one to close the gap between them and smashed his lips onto hers. Y/N visibly relaxed into the kiss and moved her hands from his neck to the back of his buzzed head. The grip Satori had on her waist tightened as he pulled her into his body more.

His heart was pleading to burst right out of his chest, Y/N could feel their two elevated heartbeats beating in sync with one another. She couldn’t help but feel like this kiss was long overdue. She’d had so many things to tell him, so many feelings that she needed to show him, but she was so glad that she could put all of her pent up frustration and how much she missed him into just this one kiss. Satori swiped his tongue over her bottom lip to bring a blush up to the apples of her cheeks. Her lungs were burning but she didn’t want the kiss to end. It wasn’t until Satori gripped her bottom lip in between his teeth and pulled away from her that she finally took in a deep breath.

“When do you leave back home?” Tendou queried, his chest still heaving with uneven breaths.

“Two days.” Y/N responded a bit glum. “This sucks.”

Tendou smirked and gripped her hips tightly in his fingers. He gave them a small squeeze. “Wanna know what wouldn’t suck?”

Y/N stayed silent and raised an eyebrow.

“Being mine.”

She blushed deeply and looked down at her feet. Satori tried to meet her gaze as she looked down at the floor, trying to find the answer in her expression.

“How about we put that to the test?”

#anime #anime x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #karasuno #shiratorizawa #fukurodani #nekoma #shiratorizawa x reader #tendou #tendou satori #tendou satori x reader #tendou fluff #x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #wakatoshi ushijima #volleyball anime

162 notes · View notes