#its coming down in such big flakes now that i can see it through the window without my glasse | 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

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yuukimiyas · 7 months

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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sweet disposition

₊˚ෆ 1.0k words / sfw! / est. relationship / written w fem!reader in mind but can v much be read as gn!reader / proofread by my bff & word genius @/grimmjaws / super duper fluffy fluff for the dreamiest boy ever ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀ��ა

ᕱ ⑅ ᕱ a/n: this is so V self indulgent & self ship coded!! / based off one of my fave scenes from one of my fave comfort movies <33 / tyasm for bein so patient w me as i mustered up the courage to post this ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა your support means the absolute world to me! / now, w/out further ado! chloe's writing debut!

yukimiya kenyū adored you. whether it was the sound of your laugh, the way you took your coffee, or the way you looked while going on & on about your favorite author, he adored everything, no matter how big or small.

but notably, his most endeared moments were the dates the two of you shared together downtown. getting up just as the sun rose in the morning to make it to your favorite coffee shop, or walking a few blocks to the record store you now call ‘yours’, or spending some time together at the park, or maybe side-by-side, taking turns reading passages from whichever covers you’d picked up that day, while the sun’s rays elevated your eye-color to something otherworldly – those times were yukimiya’s favorites.

every date with you was no exception.

or, so he thought.

the day had started off a lot like those others. another all-day-date-turned-adventure where you’d both gotten coffee and flipped through an abundance of jazz vinyl (most of which you owned, but continued the tradition nonetheless), then left to roam the streets of a city you were so passionate about. when your footsteps came to a halt, yukimiya stuttered to a stop just in front of you, your sudden lack of movement making him turn and raise his brow.

“everything alright, darling?” his voice was smooth and sweet, every syllable coated in pure honey. the question dripped down your spine and your cheeks took on a much rosier hue as you faced him head on.

“come with me.” wearing a sickeningly sweet grin, you took the lead. you dragged yukimiya behind you for a few paces, unable to contain your excitement, until he caught up to you, footsteps in tandem. the familiar sidewalks crunched beneath your feet, then turned into blades of grass as you traveled through the park, passing by your usual spot. you lead him up a fairly steep hill, hand-in-hand, before eventually coming to a beautiful, well-loved ironwork bench.

while the body of the arrangement used to be freshly painted, it was now a weathered black, flaking heavily near the metal arms, displaying how endeared the spot was to more than just yourself.

“alright, here we are - my favorite place in the whole city.” you turned, arms outstretched & smiled so wide that yukimiya was positive there was no sight greater in the universe, one that could rival how you looked in front of him just then. he couldn’t tell if it was the way your hair was blowing in the light, autumnal breeze, or the way your small giggles & excitable expression made his chest warm, but he was filled with the obvious & irrefutable love he had for you. it didn’t matter the reason, you were ethereal in every small moment you shared together.

yukimiya thought he couldn’t possibly love anything more; more than soccer, more than modeling, more than every star in the vast sky – it was always you who proved him wrong.

you sat down, patting the empty space beside you, its cool surface an invitation. yukimiya could do nothing but oblige.

“so this is your favorite place in the entire city?” the tall, dark-haired man questioned. a soft smile was apparent on his picturesque features, and when you felt yourself staring for a little too long, you attempted to hide the blush covering your cheeks by looking forward.

“mhm. i randomly came across it one day a few years ago & have found myself drawn to it ever since. you see that roof over there? on the left? that’s the museum of natural history, one of the largest since its founding in 1869…” you continued. yukimiya watched you with rapt attention as you pointed to numerous structures and parking garages, explaining each bit of history that highlighted all of the parts that make you, well… you.

fascinated was an understatement for the striker, and he did his best to give coherent responses besides a quick ‘yeah’ & various head nods, but he just couldn’t shake it. the pounding in his chest began to drown out the outside noises of passing individuals going on jogs, talking on the phone, and walking their dogs until all he could hear was you.

“i feel like they could have done more with the layout of some of the larger structures, but hey, i’m no architect,” you joked. blushing, you raked your fingers through your hair and gave a somewhat shy chuckle at your own statement. “i’m…sorry if i bored you at all! i know hearing all of this is probably less than riveting.”

“no!” he rushed out, words overlapping the end of your statement by just a moment. “please don’t apologize. tell me more.”

just like that, your eyes lit up & another gorgeous smile adorned your delicate features before you spoke again, cautiously optimistic, “really? because i totally get it if it’s too–”

“really. please, go on.” yukimiya’s words were gentle, tone liquid and smooth as his arm snaked around your middle. he pulled you close, letting you rest your head comfortably on his chest as you began to talk again. he could listen to your saccharine voice forever & he was absolutely positive no bit of information, too dull or too bold, could deter him from thinking so.

after you exhausted all of your favorite factoids about the city & its many tall stone and brick inhabitants, the two of you fell into a comfortable, almost soothing silence. the moment stretched on for a while before you let out a whisper - one that simply could have dissipated into the wind if not for your close proximity to each other.

“i was wrong.”

“hm?” yukimiya answered with a hum, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

“about this being my favorite place in the city,” you nuzzled into his frame as if it were humanly possible to be any closer than you currently were, “it’s my second favorite.”

“oh? why the sudden change of heart?” he inquired, his gaze never breaking away from the concrete horizon before him. he noticed it a moment later, how the city felt a little different now - more personal. it was as if every notion & bit of information you shared with him had opened up his eyes to a whole new perspective. admittedly, he was grateful for it; he cherished knowing the city better - you better.

yukimiya knew in that moment, there, with you, that nothing else could possibly elevate the airy feeling of cloud-nine that he was already on.

and then you spoke.

“because my first favorite place in the city is anywhere i’m with you.”

fin.

๋࣭ ⭑ seehaven © '23 / please do not copy/repost/translate anywhere! / all dividers by @/benkeibear <;33

#yukimiya kenyū x reader #blue lock x reader #yukimiya kenyu x reader #yukimiya fluff #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #reblogs & like until your hearts content!! just no robbery of my words or layouts!! thats not cool!! ૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა #if i missed any warning tags or anyth pls let me know!!! but other than that!! eat your hearts out!! ꒰♡˃̶̤́ ꒳ ˂̶̤̀ ꒱#my brain had this idea for WEEKS & i'm so so happy to get it out & onto the world wide web :3 I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!#bllk #˚ʚ♡ɞ˚kenyū #₊˚.༄ anthology!

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unlikelyjapan · 9 months

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s2e5 rewatch notes

Ah, "Pop" - it's so weird to have one of the least-satisfying episodes of television you've ever watched be sandwiched in the middle of one of the most satisfying television series you've ever seen.

"But the viewer uneasiness, the juxtaposition, that's the point of the episode!" cry future Storer/Calo** in unison, tearing at their shirt collars and throwing themselves prostrate in the middle of their 7th podcast interview moderated entirely by men "in the spirit of John Hughes, we wanted to convey....."

** For the record, I respect/love them for creating my 2nd favorite TV show of all time, they just grind my gears with the offensive stance on these narrative choices that were, in fact, very bad.

It was an over-reach, an unenjoyable viewing experience for most people outside a specific segment of uncritical (mostly white) men and the women who placate them.

Alright, preamble over - let's dig in!

We open with Tina getting a crash-course in Syd's vision. I bet this woman has never been exposed to breaking food down in the abstract - "earth, air, fire, water" , nor the overwhelming prep of the daikon and the fennel - but her just being like "this is a lot for a tasting menu" and then reassuring her with "it's okay ma, I got you!" - she has my full heart.

Tina's intuition on the food is good, though - it is, in fact, too busy. Sydney is still learning how to be a mentor, and she negates that Tina's background isn't automatically going to make her know what a play on an XO sauce is, or even how to identify a panzanella.

Remember Carmy explaining Japanese plum wine to Marcus? That's how you do it. Sydney still has a learning curve to go through, but Tina will weather it gangbusters.

Sydney - "It's a lot, it's a lot...I'm seeing that its a lot"

I see that iterative recipe development between Carmy + Syd fell into oblivion three weeks earlier when he blew her off, and she's suffering greatly.

Carmy is trying to get the 7 seconds down to 5 between stations when Cicero comes in, and Cicero sees it as a fruitless exercise after Natalie points out that he's been at it for over an hour. I can almost see the flash in Carmy's eyes where we're back 5 years ago, his family seeing him and his work as weird and irrelevant. This was probably the first blow of the day that led him to flake out completely.

I'm including all of Cicero's dialogue here, because I didn't realize it was so weighted on my first pass through the show:

"I'm a little concerned that we're taking our eyes off the ball here, and I want to be hyper-clear - if I ain't seeing no progress, I don't want to keep pissing money away. I'm calling this out now, because we are - How far from open, Sug? - Six weeks! And I somehow anticipate that the coming six weeks, there will be more pissin'.

The thing is, I like to control the pissing to the best of my ability....your schedule is kinked. You're doing whatever the fuck you're doing here. Thundernuts is out there making sandwiches for his entire family? I mean, look, as much as I look forward to selling this place - and trust me, I do look forward to it - I think it's just in all of our best interests if we have a maximally efficient place of business. I really would like to tell you a story of complete and utter failure...."

Syd interrupts.

Holy shit - this is the second time he's tried to tell his Gonzalez/Bartman story. I can't believe I missed this, TWICE (s2e1).

Instead, he tells it to Carmy on opening night - and I think by then Cicero has seen the writing on the wall and knows that Carmy is the only person who really needs to hear it - this is a big CP.

The scenes that follow just reinforce Ciceros current narrative - it's too casual for essentially being a House of Usher - everyone is interrupting, Fak's pal/contractor wandering in eating a sandwich the electrician made him, the drywall falling, Timmy's "no worries, it's still billable hours" crack. Mobster uncle or not, the man has already spent $550k just to witness this.

Tina telling Ebra that it's weird she hasn't spoken to him in a few days, and can't recount the last time that happened - it's amazing that with all the talk of platonic relationships this season, no one is pulling this one out of their hats in comparison *smirks*

But again (like Sugar faux-charming Cicero moments earlier). women be managing men's emotions along with their own lengthy lists of challenges, as the men retreat wounded and overwhelmed.

Cut to Syd perfectly laying out dining wares for Carmy while Fak blathers about 'Can't Hardly Wait' being "the greatest High School Song ever written" while his contractor friend sits idle....

"That's $55 a plate for that silence" - "Okay, then we can use the shitty ones" - Carmy is being so frigging childish and dismissive, right after he called Sugar "fucking disgusting" for being cutesy with Cicero to de-escalate him, but both women are doing what needs to be done - not what they WANT to be doing.

This is when Carmy completely checks out to call Claire for the ridiculous errand run to Winnetka. In my memory, I felt like "oh, he wanted to see her and he took the first opening to bail", but watching this episode now, he feels defeated and infantalized, and so he runs to a guaranteed source of flattery/unchallenging comfort. I don't think it was initially his M.O for the workday, just "later".

He exits with "Um....chaos menu. I dunno? I'll get back to you?" after we already watched Syd suffer on it until the wee hours - he's off to provide himself with amusement and enjoyment, so he can take care of Syd others- he just wants to give the menu to her straight-up (as he thinks this will please her), and this is his way of apologizing for bailing.

The same goes for his non-thank-you to Natalie as he's leaving. "You're not doing this because I'm pregnant, are you?" - No, he's doing it to provide himself with amusement or enjoyment so he can be better for you - enjoy working the entire day at the restaurant pregnant, though! If it makes you feel better, he appreciates you.

"Total Control" by Motels is playing as Carmy and Claire drive to the suburbs - I included the link to the lyrics, because it was an....interesting choice.

I really tried to analyze their conversation during their first foray into the car, but my raw scribbled notes look like this:

"It's perfect timing, I had all this extra adrenaline after resetting this guys Tibia" - screaming

"Whoa" (but not really impressed/getting it) "Does that shit really fire you up?" - oh my god

"It really fucking fires me up. Plus, I love driving. I'm a horrible driver, but I love the risk." - oh my fucking god

I can't do it. I'm sorry.

I'll only note that the chemistry during the envelope drop is non-existent. I think it was supposed to be scripted as a funny/awkward scene, but it just came off as two actors standing in a mail room - before this moment, I never perceived JAW as a guy who's just acting in this show, and it's jarring.

Why the hell didn't FX exert more pressure to get the chemistry read they asked for?

Sydney and Natalie's sit-down is just them acknowledging that they're managing the feelings and work of all the men that orbit The Bear, on top of the extensive labor demands they already have. Richie's interjections due to lack of purpose, Fak's inexperience with managing contractors, Carmy being checked-out and incapable of participating in things that don't rely on his existing ADHD skill-set.

One of these women is a bit green and needs support, the other is pregnant and overwhelmed, and all the men are mad or threatened by them for one trite reason or another - if season 3 isn't an overt celebration of female competence and resilince, I'm out.

"The menu is fucked - and I need Carmy, but he is....being Carmy, somewhere."

"At least he's hanging out with Claire, that seems moderately healthy, right?" - Sugar delivers this as not good, not bad, just completely ambivalent - a far cry from the Fishes discourse.

And Sydney's eyes fire up with the intensity of hell behind a smile and the "who's Claire?" - Ayo is such an amazing actress, that was a nice palate cleanser after the letter drop.

OK, we're back in the car - again, I couldn't extract much from the vapor, but here are some rough-hewn observations:

Claire saying "We've hung out so much, but we've never actually talked" - add it to the list of "telling, not showing".

I wonder if Molly Gordon is truly a great actress and intended to look at Carmy like that while he was talking about drawing pants (intense psychoanalysis eyes) or if she was attempting to look dreamily at him and just failed the assignment.

It's becoming a bit more clear to me that there's a weird brother-oedipal thing going on with Claire when Carmy talks about how she had so many friends, as Mikey did.

"Speaking of dead brothers, do you want to go to a party?"

Ignoring the totallykookycoolgirl line, I don't believe Carmy wanted/needed the tension to break there, he actually wanted to talk. The 'hmmmm' he lets escape is discomfort on multiple levels.

The party scene - "Pretty in Pink" by the Psychedelic Furs plays as they enter a house filled with 35-year-old fraternity dudes.

For those who maybe missed this, John Hughes also wrote "The Breakfast Club", wherein Molly Ringwald's character was named Claire. They just beat us over the head with this regression repeatedly, and I resent it. I came here for a high-caliber show, and I feel like I'm watching Zach Braff disassociate in a Scrubs dream sequence or some shit.

At least KJ (a 38 years old man with meth face) says that Carmy was in wrestling with him back in high school - maybe this will tamp down the "why is a chef so ripped" debate.

Even when Claire is comforting her friend (which is played by Mitra Jouhari, Molly/Ayo's friend in real life), the delivery is so wooden and sterile and not how adult women console one another in crisis.

Maybe it was the fact that she was forced to maintain the whispery voice through it for consistency in Carmy's presence, but even that seems out of sorts - imagine Syd, Tina, Sugar, anyone consoling a friend in a similar situation - and she uses that consolation to further her agenda with Carmy by dropping that no one has ever made her dinner before (at age 30???)

"Am I stupid?" "No, no....he's the one who sucks".

Wait, these are the lines of a very adult woman who has friends who are doctors getting over a 5-year-breakup? This script is stupid.

Jeremy Allen White is such a serious actor, I'd kill to hear his earnest drunk take on this.

"He's so nice. Why don't I ever meet anyone who's nice?"

*sighs deeply* - Again, y'all are 30.

Tina taking a shot and then getting up to sing "Before the Next Teardrop Falls" by Freddy Fender. I'd love to know if this song has a massive place of significance in Tina's life, but I choose to see it as her being a ballast of support for whoever needs her. Her heart is completely open - no notes.

Hold the phone - they chose "Here Comes The Night" to play as Claire is staring back at Carmy and comforting her friend leading up to the fireworks scene?

Here are the lyrics - Van Morrison/Them is great, but I wonder why they picked this song? Feel free to slap the Syd goggles off me, but this literally just chased Tina's ballad about being there when someone breaks your heart.

KJ saying "busted for having fun, busted for having fun!" as the cops are hauling him away. Loga....I mean, Carmy, was looking for "fun" in his life - I feel like this scene summarizes that pretty succinctly. He's not a man searching for fun, he's a man searching for meaning....and now he's going to conflate the fact that he's completely touch-starved with this type of fun, because the man is emotionally illiterate.

The one lyric from Strange Currencies (when they're driving to the restaurant) that they chose to flare prominently is "where were you when I kissed you" - at least they're driving home the message that these two aren't on the same wavelength.

Carmy walking into the Richie-fight-shitshow and being more concerned about the optics Claire receives when it's obvious that his whole staff has just been through a hellfire of a day, ugh. At least his acting chops are back on display in this scene.

Ahhhh, Claire's sourpuss face as soon as Sydney blurts out "I'm sorry you're here" - it almost makes this episode worth it. Almost.

For the record, I side with everyone who's stated that her introduction to the crowd was exclusively to draw Syd's attention to her.

The same goes for Richie's "Interesting." - if we based everything on what Fishes was trying to sell us, he would have thrown Carmy an arm-punch or something. It's more bemusement, not pride, in Carmy for "bagging Claire". Compare that with the "ooooooooohhhh" when Syd and Carmy are fighting - there's way more tension/acknowledgement of their dynamic.

Ugh - even Richie is like "Cousin, who's going to watch the copper?" as Carmy kicks everyone out. Even if they're ham-fisted about it (as Richie definitely is), everyone is concerned about something to do with the restaurant/their labor except for Carmy, who curtly dismisses them all with fake gratitude.

I won't talk much about Syd's exit, because it's already been discussed to death - yes, he's confused she's leaving. Yes, the only time he can look her in the eye is while Claire is distracted. Yes, he see's she's pissed and it's making him die a little inside.

I will offer a trite story, though:

When I was a young pup, I had a co-worker who had a massive crush on my friend - and the affection was mutual, but unacknowledged due to lack of experience.

He (being a traumatized, ill-equipped man-child) immediately sought out a less challenging girlfriend who even looked like a close approximation of my friend and excitedly brought this new girlfriend to a party I was throwing because he REALLY hoped that my friend would love her. She obviously didn't love her, he came to me confused/upset, and after I explained things slowly and carefully, he dumped the girlfriend a few days later. He dated my friend weeks after (and for transparencies sake, it ended terribly).

Where I'm going with this is that I think somewhere in the recesses of Carmy's damaged mind, he REALLY needed Syd's approval of him being with Claire since he was caught red-handed. He imagined her staying, asking leading questions or chaperoning the situation, or giving him a knowing smile or a "thata boy" - whatever. Even though he told everyone to leave. It's bizarre.

The Fak thing is so cloying - someone mentioned today about the Berzatto clan of fools wanting to live vicariously through Carmy and Claire, and they are 100% correct.

Finally, 30-year-olds don't kiss like this.

This whole thing was as unsatisfying to write as it was to watch. Hopefully, I caught something of use - thanks for sticking with me through this!

#the bear fx #the bear season 2 #the bear spoilers #the bear #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #tina the bear #richie jerimovich

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ramspatula · 2 months

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Zinnias | Lloyd Garmadon x reader | Part 5

Why are big statues coming to life?

It was oddly domestic how we worked. Lloyd would often have to leave at odd times for work and would come back very late or early in the evening. I felt like a housewife. I had no lessons due to it being the holiday but I had way too much work to do as it was. I hated being in this shit hole but it was better than back ‘home’, here I had friends and Lloyd. The tapping on my window made me frown. Lloyd was at work. I peeked out to see green and I grinned, pulling back the blinds and opening the window.

“Hey, homeboy, where have you been?” I asked and his eyes turned from wide, happy to see me to a dull, unamused, stern gaze.

“I regret coming here already.” He said and I smiled, climbing out the window.

“C’mon, don’t be like that. Where have you been?!” I asked and he shrugged.

“I’ve been busy- you’ve been busy.” Green added and I flushed.

“You know about that?” I asked and he nodded, he looked almost smug? From what I could tell from his eyes.

“Personal stalker, remember?” He asked and I nodded.

“Right, forgot about your obsession.” I said and he rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here then?” It’s mid-day? Just because my dorm building only has 3 rooms occupied at the moment doesn’t mean no one can see you. There’s probably some 13 year old losing her mind right now.” I said and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m on my way to the museum- I’ve just took care of our dragon and I was on strict orders to not come until all its shit was picked up so I’m sorry if I still smell. I feel like I can’t wash it off.” Green explained and I frowned.

“You have a dragon?” I asked and he nodded.

“Yeah- the one with four heads- they’re actually right above us if you want to see.” He casually added and I looked up to see the beast staring down at me. I jumped in shock as it bent down and the two centre heads gently nudged me and one blew really cold air on me. I even shivered and that caused the other one to breathe really hot air on me and now I felt over heated.

“That is really cool but I also feel like I’m in shellshock right now.” I said and he laughed.

“Okay, back off, she’ll pet you guys another time.” The dragon- moped? And got down to allow Lloyd on- Green- why do I think of Lloyd every time I see him?! I watched as the green, oddly familiar, green eyes winked at me and I smiled in response. “I’ll see you soon, bro.” He said and I laughed.

“You admit it- I’m a homeboy!” I yelled but he flew off. What a surreal experience.

“Was that a ninja?!” Fuck.

🪺. *. ⋆

The ninjas were smashing so many of these little figures that had come to life, Lloyd’s arrival almost made no difference.

“How many of these things are there?!” Lloyd asked only to be met with another one jumping at him. He thought with his father’s sudden disappearance he would get a moment of peace.

“Look who decided to turn up! We’ve been at this for an hour!” Jay screeched.

“Yeah, I hear you, I got caught up.” Lloyd excused and Cole scoffed.

“Ever since this guy got laid, he’s been a flake!” Cole said and Kai stopped one from hitting Cole in the back of the head.

“Yet he’s doing better than us in training!” Kai added and Cole shook his head.

“Who’s giving you that good of a fuck, it’s excelling your training?!” Cole asked and Lloyd smashed the figure in front of him, sending a mini earthquake through the room, the vibrations causing the figures on the floor to shatter.

“Okay, we get it, you still have your powers.” Kai said and Nya sent a burst of water into a figure about to attack Kai. “You too.” Some stone warrior figures poured marbles below him and Cole’s feet and that seemed to push Kai over the edge. “Alright, play times over!” He yelled before doing spinjitsu. The other 3 following as Lloyd, Nya and Sensei Wu watched, un-approving of their actions as the whole room was now destroyed. However, all the figures with the exception of one were destroyed. Only Wu seemed to notice this, sprinting out the chase the figure when the other ninjas clocked on a followed.

He managed to chase the little figure down and smash it with his foot. Wu didn’t have time to be proud of himself when he heard a familiar heartbeat. His super-hearing had made him memorise heartbeats in the same way his nephew and brother did. But this one he had spent hours upon hours listening to. When the door behind him creaked open, and the heart he knew so well almost rang in his ears, he turned. The first and only woman, Wu had ever loved stood before him.

“Misako?” The name slipping so effortlessly from his mouth.

“Wu.” She said, her voice still as smooth and charming as it had been some time ago.

“I- uh…” He fumbled over his words.

“It’s been a long time..” She added and he nodded.

Her braid still hadn’t changed although it was now covered in grey rather than the rich brown he was accustomed to. Thought of so passionately in his mind. The last time he had even seen her, she was only just starting to grey and had a newborn in her arms. A newborn with red eyes like his father. A newborn who was now an adult and his nephew. Because she had chosen his brother. Married him. And had a child with him. A child she abandoned. Wu was now over aware of who had a hand placed on his shoulder.

“So are you going to introduce us?” Jay asked, trying carefully not to break the moment. Lloyd showed no emotion to the woman and actually chose to eye her with suspicion but she hadn’t focussed on him yet. How would she know it’s him? Lloyd didn’t know her. And Lloyd certainly didn’t look how he was meant to after their 12 year separation. Wu cleared his throat and held the boy’s arm, Lloyd frowned at his Uncle but said no more. His Uncle had a content, almost excited smile on him. It was unusual for any of them to see.

“This is Misako, Lloyd’s mother.” And just like that, Lloyd’s world came tumbling down.

“My mother?!” Lloyd spoke, frozen in his shock.

“Lloyd?” She said, stepping forward. Her smile and tone felt so ironic for a woman who abandoned her 2 year old at a boarding school. “My little boy. You’re so much bigger than I thought you’d be-“ Lloyd smacked his Uncle’s hand away and took a step back. The anger seeped into his veins and did so quickly.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long time.” He said, moving his arm away from his mother’s attempt at holding his hand.

“I didn’t want us to meet like this. I have a reason why I’ve been away-“ Misako tried to get to her son but he shook his head.

“And I don’t want to hear it.” Lloyd said before storming out. The others were shocked at such a reaction from Lloyd. Most his expected the boy to welcome his mother with open arms with how highly Wu always spoke of her. Garmadon had not spoke so highly, not after learning Lloyd had spent his life in a boarding school. Turns out the over-lord wasn’t pleased to learn his son that he was oblivious to his existence had spent a good 8 years in a boarding school being relentlessly bullied and then homeless at 10. It just wasn’t fair. Lloyd’s whole life wasn’t fair. And now his mother turns up in his life again after 12 years?

He couldn’t take it. He found his way into some room, with a giant pit. And a part of him felt like stepping into it. His mother wouldn’t care but Y/n would. His mind was spiralling. All these memories of mothers days that he had spent alone. How could his evil, tyrannical father care more about him than his mother? Garmadon didn’t know where he was or about him and within the first day of learning about his existence, he had sought his way out the underworld and had moved in with his enemies to kill snakes and reclaim his taken son. The first time they had met after he’d been rescued, his father had broken down. Holding him and spewing so many apologies for being absent when he hadn’t even known he existed. Lloyd held him back because for the first time, he had felt actual love. Like someone cared about him. Now he had grown up, he understood love. What it does to you. How deeply it can affect you when the person you love does something. Which is why Lloyd had always listened closely when Garmadon spoke of Misako. And it wasn’t nicely. It’s funny how a man corrupted by pure evil couldnt understand abandoning his son and only kept Lloyd with Wu because he was destined to be the Green ninja and because he believed that Lloyd would stay at the monastery until he grew up. Garmadon believed Lloyd would be safe. He was not.

“Hey, baby, you alright?” He basked in her voice.

“Is there any way you can make it to the museum right now?” Lloyd asked and he could hear the girl’s confusion on the other line.

“Museum- Lloyd the ninjas are there-! What are you-?!” He loves how concerned she is over him.

“I just met my mother.” He cut her off and she paused.

“I’ll be right there, it’s like a 10 minute walk. Are you okay?” He smiled. Not that she could see it.

“Just, come as quick as you can…” He said and heard her agree before she hung up and he sighed.

🪺. *. ⋆

This museum was a fucking maze. I didn’t even know what room he was in and there was barely anyone here. Lloyd wasn’t responding and I was considering giving up, until I turned around and saw a massive live statue of a stone warrior. It would’ve been cool if it hadn’t started raising its sword at me. I screamed. I’m not afraid to admit it. Before I sprinted. The thing didn’t hit me with the sword but it did make the ground shake which almost made me fall.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled as it was now chasing me?! What the hell?! What did I do?! “No,no,no-“ I screamed again as it almost got me.

“Peach!” Someone called but I didn’t see who. That was before 5 ninjas had jumped down before me. I saw no green in this rainbow and continued running. I heard someone talking, aggressively talking. The doors were closed though but I recognised that voice. I recognised it anywhere. I banged on the door, hearing and feeling as the footsteps got closer again.

“Open up! This massive asshole of a statue is chasing me!” I yelled and the doors swung open and I practically fell into Green’s arms- could’ve sworn that was Lloyd.

“Peach! Are you okay- I never should’ve of told you to come here--!” He looked up at someone cleaning their throat. I saw an older woman with grey hair and a braid, she didn’t look too old though.

“Lloyd-“ I said and his eyes widened.

“What?” Green asked. His hands cupping my cheeks.

“Where’s Lloyd-?!” I asked- almost begged, frightened tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

“He’s okay. You aren’t though.” Green told me and I shook my head.

“No-! I need to find him! It’s serious.” I said, my breathing becoming erratic.

“Lloyd will understand, you’ll see him soon but for now I gotta get you to safety and others because that thing is massive-!” He suddenly yelled at the appearance of the statue and I nodded.

“That was chasing me-!” I yelled and he took my hand, making me sprint with him to another room. The woman followed but I didn’t pay her much attention, I was holding onto Green like a lifeline as we ran away from this thing. We ended up in a large room and I noticed that everyone was here but I couldn’t breathe- I was suffocating. This felt like a panic attack. Green frantically turned to me and held me as I crumbled to the floor. I tried to breathe but I couldn’t.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He repeated, smoothing my hair as I gripped onto him like a lifeline. I suddenly pushed him off and looked around.

“Lloyd-“ I said again but he turned me back around.

“He’s fine, he’s okay, he’s safe. You’re not. We’ve got to focus on you, Peach.” Green told me and he sounded so much like him, felt like him. His hand moved my cheek and I held the side of his neck to support myself.

“Lloyd.” I said, more stern as I looked into his eyes. Those were Lloyd’s eyes, I swore those were his. His eyes widened more and I swore I saw some red in his iris. “Lloyd.” I whispered more harshly, my eyes widening. He shook his head. The red ninja placed a hand on his shoulder but he shrug it off. All the ninja were here? How embarrassing.

“No…” he said, weakly. He seemed so vulnerable right now. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I flinched.

“Maybe now is not the time for this-“ Wu said. Fucking Wu. I grabbed the man before I could think.

“Peach-!” I heard Green say but I stared into the old man’s eyes.

“Where is he?! I know you know.” I watched as his stern eyes drift up to Green who reached out for me again. I looked back to him. “Don’t say-“ I turned around to look at Green again, he looked guilty. “-what the fuck?!” i looked back at Wu who nodded. I let go of the old man away and stalked away from them all.

“It’s best to let her cool off-“ I heard a woman’s voice as I walked away.

“Don’t touch me.” That was Lloyd’s voice. He was Lloyd. Green was Lloyd. Lloyd was the Green ninja. With that thought in mind I felt like collapsing. The world around me slowed and I knew what came next.

But it didn’t matter because soon arms were around me, shielding me as a green force field encased us, the green turned mixed of peaches and purples before I watched as the statues sword glitched and burst after the colours turned back to green. It now had no weapon. Green held onto me- Lloyd held onto me -tighter as the big statue tried to attack the green bubble with his hand. It didn’t break but I could feel as it exhausted Lloyd. His eyes were closed tightly, in focus. I held him back and his eyes seemed to close even tighter before suddenly the statue was running away, chasing something else. Lloyd let the bubble burst and took a moment to catch his breath again. I just sunk to the floor. Staring blankly at where it had left. Lloyd quickly looked from me to the doorway before holding my head in his hands, making me look at him.

“I know you’re confused and that’s okay, I’ll be back soon, stay here, okay?” Was all he said before running off. I didn’t move, I don’t think I could.

Fuck that I could.

I moved to the doorway and watched as they tried to lead him to the big gaping hole in the middle of the floor of one room but it suddenly turned around a charged at some civilian who came running this way. I heard the ninjas protests and sounds of disappointment at their little trap not working. I watched as it now charged at me again. The blast of green energy on its back didn’t even make it falter as it stared me down and stopped, raising its hand. Ready to pummel me into the earth. I only glared up as I heard the yells, watching as the first came back down.

When the world slowed, everything felt so dramatic. I felt so untroubled. Like nothing really mattered. I felt like I could see the ins and outs of the earth and more, something no one else could. But now I just felt hurt, lied to. Somehow, I had really thought I’d bet on a winner only to realise I’m still by the loser’s side. Losing every time with them. At least I feel like I win when I lose. So I let myself feel the loser’s guilt as the fist came down on me. If only I could escape my problems so easy. It would’ve been easy to let that thing kill me. I started, tears in my eyes as the thing was now lodged into the floor. It glitched and got stuck. It would stay like that unless dug out. Only side of its face and some parts of the body could be seen. I climbed over the piece of forearm sticking out and saw the rest of the ninja. I didn’t let my tears fall but I suddenly had a feeling I knew who these ninjas were and specifically who the red one was. I shook my head at him.

“Peach! Peaches!” I heard his voice but I ignored him as I walked away. I was too tired and I had been deceived. I really believe they were separate people even with their uncanny similarities. “Y/n! Please!” I paused at that. The vase on display next to me, glitched. I let him run in front of me. “Thank you… I can tell you everything-“ I shook my head.

“I don’t want to know.”

“Just- come back to the monastery please. I can explain everything- show you!” Lloyd said and I shook my head.

“No.” I said and he sighed.

“Then I’ll come to yours just please don’t walk away.” He said and I let the tears flow, I quickly tired to wipe them. His hand reached up and grabbed my face again, I let him. Trying not to cry more as his thumbs gently wiped away a few tear tracks.

“Green, we need to go-!” Someone yelled but he growled- actually growled.

“No!” He said immediately. “Please, Y/n.” He whispered and I nodded.

“I’ll go with you.” I said and he rested his forehead on mine.

“Thank you, thank you!” He said quickly, desperately, and I let him lead me out the museum. I stayed silent, letting him decide everything for me. I felt numb. Like I had been overwhelmed to the point of exhaustion. And in a way, I had. He quickly pulled a cloth from the gift shop and wrapped it around the lower half of my face, covering my mouth and nose, before pulling my hood up. “To keep your identity secret.” He explained but I just looked up, blankly.

The dragon bowed and lowered its body to me. It gestured with one of its heads towards its back and I realised it wanted me to get on. I looked to Lloyd who lifted me effortlessly onto the shoulder of the dragon’s front leg and I had to grab onto onto the straps of the saddle to climb onto the saddle itself. If it wasn’t for my static state I might of been freaking out about the fact I was on a dragon, actually I was starting to feel a little freaked, that was until I felt Lloyd behind me. After adjusting himself accordingly, he held me closer to his body and grabbed onto the reigns. This thing was about to take off. I grabbed onto Lloyd’s arm around me, tightly. My eyes widened as it spread its wings and took off, it was a large and terrifying beast and it took its time ascending into the air. I pressed myself back into Lloyd who didn’t say anything, just rested his head against my shoulder. I hadn’t looked up from the saddle.

“It’s really pretty up here.” I heard Lloyd said but I ignored him. “I’ve always liked flying more than driving… feels more peaceful. Especially when it’s not really windy.” He said and I relaxed a little, looking up. I couldn’t tell if that was a bad or good thing. It was pretty but we were so high up. I was more interested in the dragon than the scenery. I placed a hand on the exposed white scale and felt as a rumble went through its body. I quickly retracted my hand. “They’re purring, they like you.” Lloyd added and I just nodded. The dragon head with brown outlines let out a long croon and I froze. “They want you to continue.”

“I’ve always loved dragons…” I said and scratched the scales area. The dragon shook almost shifting us too far off, I did not scream. Lloyd didn’t laugh at the fact I screamed. Because I didn’t scream.

“I’ve got you… if I knew you liked dragons, I would’ve got you to meet them sooner.” He said and it came back, the deceit. I could almost get it but it still hurt. I thought I had two new people and it almost feels like I lost a friend. I slumped again, removing my hand.

“You lied…” I said and he fumbled to try and get his words together.

“I didn’t want to… but I had to! I can’t go around saying I’m the green ninja.” He said and I nodded.

“I get that, I do but- but why would you get so close to me?! I thought I had a friend, Lloyd.” I said, hurt evident in my voice and I felt as he held on a little tighter.

“I wasn’t meant to! But I can’t leave you alone, you’re all I think about- I wasn’t meant to get too involved but then the thought of seeing you and not talking to you got to me- and then I found out about your powers-!” He reminded me and I shook my head.

“You were going to try and teach me as another person?!” I yelled and he cringed.

“Yes…” he admitted and I scoffed.

“And I felt guilty about the fact I didn’t tell you about my powers.” I said and he sighed, digging his face into my shoulder.

“I would’ve told you. I wouldn’t have let you find out like this if things were different.” Lloyd said and I paused.

“You called me…” I started and he pressed his head further into the corner of my neck. “You sounded so… so broken. I’d never been so scared, Lloyd.” I said and he nodded.

“I saw my mother and everyone acted like it was this happy thing. Like the woman hadn’t abandoned me and never came back to visit.” He said and I held onto his hand around my waist. We were started to descend now. Lloyd looked up to be able to our surroundings as we went down. “Wu looked at her like she was amazing. Some sort of spectacle. In reality, even my father used to say she was even more of a monster than him for abandoning a baby and not telling the father anything about him.” Lloyd revealed and my eyes widened. The landing was rougher than I thought and he was jumping off as soon as and encouraged me to slide down before he caught me and placed me firmly on the floor. I held onto for a moment as the sensation in my legs came back. We began walking after a moment, taking his hand in mine as he ripped off his mask and I pulled my hood off and makeshift mask too. “She tried talking to me. To explain everything- I didn’t want to know. I don’t want to know.” He added and I just followed him as he led me to a room that was covered in poster and green ornaments and nerdy things. Like Star Wars Lego sets and funko pops. He closed his door after I stepped in and opened his wardrobe. This was his room, I realised. I looked to his bedside to see a picture of a younger version of Lloyd in a smaller green Gi sat next to his uncle with the others in their Gi surrounding the two. They were all unmasked and poor Lloyd has a bowl cut.

“Your barber did you dirty.” I said and he looked at the frame I was looking at and let out a surprised laugh.

“The boys in my old dorm put a bowl over my hair, it was like a mullet- really long, anyway, one day they put a bow around my head when I was asleep and cut my hair. The teachers tidied it up the best they could but because it was boarding school for bad boys, they were rewarded and I just began hating my hair. Luckily, after the tea, my hair had changed drastically and Kai cleaned it up after.” Lloyd told me and I looked back at him, he was now just in his boxers. Pair of trousers in his hands ready to put on.

“I love your hair.” I said and he looked up before smiling, putting on his trousers as he spoke to me.

“With how much you tug it, I was thinking you were trying to rip it out-“

“Okay, Okay! I get it.” I said and pushed him away as he got seriously close. I laughed as he grabbed me and started kissing all over my face and neck. “Okay! I’m sorry, but I do love you hair. It’s softer than mine.”

“It’s not!” He immediately argued but backed off to go put his shirt on. He kicked the Gi towards a pile of dirty laundry, before turning and picking me up, easily. My legs wrapped around him and I let out a surprised laugh. “Being the green ninja means I get a few extra perks, like Cole’s super strength, meaning you don’t weigh anything to me.” He said and my eyes widened.

“That’s how you left my thighs bruised black.” Lloyd cringed at the reminder.

“I’ve not done that since, have I?” He asked and shook my head, kissing him.

“No, I don’t mind, however you do bite.” I said and tilted my neck to expose the bite a little.

“I don’t know where that came from. I think I tried to give you a hickey?” He questioned himself and I laughed.

“With teeth?!” I questioned and he threw me on his bed. He had a double bed. I starfished immediately. “Oh we’re staying round yours from now on.” I said and heard him laugh.

“We’d get zero privacy.” He said and I sighed in relief.

“I don’t care. This bed has made me forget how upset I am right now… that and I want to hear about your mommy issues.” I said and felt the bed dip, he grabbed my ankle and dragged me down the bed. I laughed as I settled in the new position. Putting my legs in his lap. He rested on arm on them, massaging my leg with his thumb.

“Peach… I don’t want to make this about me.” Lloyd said and I frowned.

“Maybe not, but I want to. So speak green boy. Tell me about your life before I leave.” I said and he grinned, amused.

“I realise how much you’re taking in right now, so I’ll give you the summary and we’ll delve into the specifics later.” He said and I nodded. “When I was 10, I left my boarding school and started some trouble here and there, the others had just started their training and were overly cocky and fed up of being called out to deal with ‘Garmadon’ and it being me.” He started and I frowned.

“You started trouble?” I asked, perplexed and he nodded.

“I was a wild kid, wanted to be just like my Dad. Except I was homeless and had no actual power to my name.” Lloyd said and my eyes widened.

“You were homeless?!” I asked and he nodded.

“For like a year before I was forcefully taken in by my Uncle.” He explained and my eyes saddened. “And that was only because my deviance had excelled to releasing the serpentine.” Lloyd told me and my jaw dropped.

“That was you?!” I questioned and he nodded.

“I thought it would somehow make my father proud enough to take me in. But he didn’t even know I was alive. And I was kicked out by each tribe until I met Pythor who I thought was my friend but he just wanted my serpentine tombs map and he deceived me and then tried to push me off the top of my boarding school but he had to run away before he could actually get me far enough to the edge. That’s when my uncle took me in and taught me to never trust a snake.” Lloyd told me and I smiled.

“Hey, I learnt that lesson too! Except it was on my own and with a bitch called Alabama.” I said and he chuckled. “I still don’t forgive that snake.” I said and he rubbed my leg.

“I don’t forgive Pythor either. I was just a kid. A bad one but nonetheless.” He said and I absentmindedly started playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “Then I got kidnapped by him, and my uncle had to go to the underworld to find my Dad to get his help in getting me back. My Dad tried to rip my Uncle’s throat out for knowing about my existence, and the fact I was alone and how he left me there. My Dad still says that my uncle either should’ve brought me to the underworld when my mother left me or took him in himself. Anyway, he saved me and I met him for the first time. It was weirdly emotional, for him at least, I felt nothing which still surprises me. It just wasn’t what I expected.” He told me and I nodded.

“It sounds like your father loves you a lot. Dare I say unconditionally?” I added and he smiled.

“He loves power more.” Lloyd added and my smile fell. “It’s okay, I know what to expect from my father. He came for me, that’s all that matters. A little while later, we go to find a fangblade and it’s in a volcano. Short story short, it starts erupting and Kai achieves his true potential saving me because somehow he realised that it was to protect me and therefore the green ninja. And I know you don’t know the prophecy of the green ninja, but it is the one destined to defeat darkness and bring back light. That darkness being my father. I have to fight and defeat my father in what’s called ‘the final battle’.” My eyes widened, and I sat up.

“You have to fight him?!” I almost yelled and he nodded, soothing me by patting my leg.

“That didn’t really settle well with my father and he left, the whole thing has sent him into a spiral really. Pythor managed to resurrect the great devourer, the one thing my Dad hates more than himself, and Wu. The ninjas gave up their golden weapons to my Dad so he could kill the devourer. He then took off with them after, creating that mega weapon which the ninjas somehow destroyed, that day is a blur really. Before that however, he used it resurrect the grundle. Which led to aging me to adulthood. The tea is supposed to somehow bring someone to the age that fate needs them to be. The grundle wasn’t needed and me, I’m supposed to be fate’s soldier. And children aren’t very successful in fights.” Lloyd said and I just looked up at him for a moment before jumping up and hugging him. He returned the hug, shifting me to actually be sat in his lap.

“I’m sorry.” I apologised and he shook his head.

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Lloyd told me and I shook my head.

“Maybe not, but everyone else does. You’ve had the shittiest life I’ve ever heard of, and you haven’t even heard what Pearl’s been through.” I joked and he chuckled, kissing my cheek before holding me again. I held the back of his head and played with his hair and he rested the side of his head on mine.

“It’s not so bad. I have you now.” He said and that made me break, sobbing into his arms.

“That’s so sad.” I said and he laughed.

“Not to me.” Lloyd argued and I shook my head. “Hey, don’t cry over me, that’s a waste. Cry over your own shitty backstory not mine.” He told me and I giggled through my sobs.

“It’s not that shitty though! I was just neglected with a heavy handed sprinkle of bullying, you were actually homeless!” I argued and he shook his head.

“No, yours is so much worse. My mother actually tried speaking to me.” Lloyd said and I smiled.

“You sure that’s better than mine not?” I asked and he contemplated it for a moment.

“Yeah, I win. My life is worse than yours.” He said and chucked me onto the bed, off his lap. I laughed as he stood up.

“Okay, I can accept that loss.” I said and heard him laugh before suddenly he was next to me, laying down and star fishing, half over my body. I groaned at the sudden weight. “You’re so big, you need a whole bigass bed just to fit-.” I said and I saw the smirk come across his face and before I could take it back-

“That’s what you said-“

“Shut up- shut up-“ I covered his mouth and he laughed against my hand before licking it. I brought my hand back.

“Ew, Lloyd!” I said and his eyes snapped open.

“Wait licking your hand is gross but now-“

“Shut up! Someone could hear you-“ I said and he shrugged.

“My family has super hearing, my uncle definitely heard us fucking before he knocked on the door. He probably waited until we were out the shower to knock-“

“Oh my god! Are you serious?!” I asked and he nodded but shrugged a moment later.

“My uncle and Dad are really old. They were around during the times people used to fuck publicly like it was nothing.” Lloyd said and my jaw dropped. He started laughing and I shoved him.

“Not funny!” I scolded but he didn’t care.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry. But they are really old. I think my Dad is around 1300 years old.” Lloyd said and I froze.

“How old?!” I asked again and he nodded.

“Well my grandfather is the first spinjitsu master so it makes sense.” I stared at him momentarily.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” I said and he laughed.

🪺. *. ⋆

Peach fell asleep as soon as they spent 5 minutes in silence. Lloyd had listened as her heartbeat slowed and her breathing evened out. They had thrown his covers over them both and spent some time just resting in each other’s arms. It was getting late and he hadn’t spoke to his team since the museum. And he was hungry. He had the appetite of a dragon and he can’t remember the last time he ever felt full. So carefully, he got out the bed. Freezing as Y/n turned whined and then turned over, displeased. He breathed a sigh of relief when she settled back and quietly left his room. His footsteps didn’t make any sound anyway.

The halls of the monastery were simple, but elegant. The monks had spent the past millennia carving prophecies and teachings into the walls, making a beautiful architecture as the heads went on. When Lloyd made it to the kitchen, everyone was there. They all paused to look at him and he stopped for a moment before walking over to a cabinet. He hadn’t noticed his mother sat at the table, initially.

“Are you going to explain to us who that girl is or?” Cole asked, breaking the silence and Lloyd looked up, debating whether to say anything.

“That’s my girlfriend, her name is Peach.” He said and the table shot up in uproar.

“Girlfriend?! When?!” Kai immediately whined.

“How long have you even been seeing her?!” Nya asked, outraged she wasn’t the first to know.

“Before me??” Cole’s grating voice.

“It wasn’t just a hook up?!” Jay asked, perplexed.

“That’s where you’ve been?!” Cole’s voice again.

“I have no records of someone named Peach in the residents of ninjago records.” Zane was the last straw.

“Yes! I have a girlfriend! And her actual name isn’t Peach but she’s got powers too, they’re not elemental and really unpredictable. We call it glitching. As you’ve seen. We think they’re triggered by certain emotional triggers. Her name is apparently one of them.” Lloyd told them and it did not satisfy them at all.

“She lodged that thing in the ground! It’s still there!” Jay yelled and Lloyd nodded.

“We haven’t spoke about that yet so don’t bring it up please.” Lloyd said and they all froze. He was different.

“Congratulations, nephew.” Wu said and Lloyd looked up at him. “I’m sure you 5 have probably connected that this girl is the reason for Lloyd’s sudden excelling in training and skills. Love sharpens the mind, and makes the body more defensive.” Wu said and Lloyd’s eyes widened.

“Woah- not there yet!” He said and moved to take his snacks away from his eager Uncle.

“We may live for long, but we fall in love quick. Your mother would be able to attend to this.” Wu said and Lloyd’s eyes sharpened.

“So would Dad, y’know, until he found out he had a son he didn’t know about.” Lloyd said Misako’s face fell.

“Your father spoke of me?” She asked and Lloyd smiled.

“Oh yeah lots!” He said and she smiled back at him. “Lots of unforgiving, hateful things.” Her face fell again. “I haven’t heard him mention you with a positive tone since he asked me where my mother was!” Lloyd said and the atmosphere soured, dangerously.

“Lloyd.” Wu warned.

“Don’t pretend to care about me.” Lloyd said instead of acknowledging his Uncle. “I don’t need you.” He added and walked out the kitchen.

“He’s really upset.” He heard Nya say.

“Can you blame him? Kid was abandoned multiple times.” Cole.

“Lloyd! Wait up!” He didn’t, but Kai caught up anyway. “Talk to me, dude.” He said but Lloyd only looked at him. “C’mon, we used to talk about everything! I even used to read you to sleep when you first moved in.” Kai reminded and Lloyd smiled a little. “I mean- you got a girlfriend?!” Kai said, with a smile. It made Lloyd willingly open his door wider to reveal the lump under his covers. Hair just visible.

“I did.” He said, Kai smiled looking in as Lloyd rested on the door frame.

“I can’t believe you scored Peach.” He said and Lloyd laughed before nodding.

“I was there when you came over the over day.” Lloyd revealed and Kai paled a little. “She said you are a massive dick.” Lloyd added and Kai laughed.

“Are or have one- because she has walked in on me and Pearl-“ Lloyd shoved him and he laughed.

“Are. And she’s right.” Lloyd added and Kai smiled. “Come in, I don’t want those weirdos listening in on us.” Lloyd said and a faint ‘hey’ from Jay was heard. Kai nodded, at Lloyd’s point being proved. It was soon followed by ‘blabber mouth’ from Cole.

With the door closed, Lloyd sat on the end of his bed as Kai took residence on the floor.

“She won’t mind?” Kai asked and Lloyd shook his head.

“The only thing she’ll mind at the moment is an alarm.” Lloyd said and Kai chuckled. “You awake, Peaches?” Lloyd asked and shook the lump who groaned and aggressively pulled the covers around herself more. “See?” Lloyd said and Kai’s eyes widened. “Do you mind if Kai stays in here?!” Lloyd practically yelled and the lump only whined, shoved him away from her and turned on her side to avoid him. “Not a care in the world.” Lloyd concluded and Kai nodded.

“Oh my god.” Kai said, perplexed and Lloyd smirked. They talked for a solid hour before the lump suddenly shot up and collapsed into Lloyd.

“I can’t sleep without cuddling something.” I said and I heard two voices chuckle. How did it take me this long to realise someone else was in the room? I looked up to see Kai and I turned to Lloyd.

“I told you, no privacy.” He said and I shrugged, settling down.

“Shame, I was going to give you the head of your life.” I shut my eyes, as my head rested comfortably on his thigh, facing away from Kai and towards his stomach.

“Get out.” I heard Lloyd say, most serious I’ve ever heard him. I laughed and so did Kai.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Late. You slept most the afternoon away, Peaches.” Lloyd told me and I nodded slightly.

“Is Kai still here?” I asked and Lloyd nodded.

“I asked him to leave.” Lloyd said and I sighed.

“You didn’t ask, you ordered.” Kai argued.

“I told him to leave.” Lloyd said, instead and I laughed. Brothers, definitely.

“No head then.” I said and watched as Lloyd glared at Kai.

“Can you even move, Peach?” Kai asked and I didn’t move.

“I’m gonna pass out again.” I said instead and soon surrendered to sleep again.

“You just cock-blocked me so hard!” Lloyd said and Kai shrugged.

“You’ve cock-blocked me so many time, I don’t care.” It was true. The other ninjas used to send him to knock on Kai’s door whenever they knew Kai was having phone sex or make him tell Kai he was meant to babysit him when he was about to go hook up with someone and then his hookup would start talking about how cute his younger brother was.

“Not my fault.” Lloyd defended.

“You did it for a price.” Kai counter-argued and Lloyd shrugged.

🪺. *. ⋆

I woke up to no Lloyd. I was in his bed but no him. I sighed and sat up. How did I feel so tired? And hungry. What do I do until Lloyd comes back? Stay here? I stood up and looked around the room. He had his own bathroom. Good. I stretched in the middle of his room. The t-shirt he had put on me before I fell asleep rose slightly above my ass, exposing the skin and the fact I had nothing on my lower half. I shoved my trousers from yesterday on, keeping his shirt though. I pulled my bra on, clipping the back before listening with my ear against the door to try and hear if anyone was outside. I noticed my phone was on charge and his was next to it. Good, that meant he hadn’t left. I checked it. No messages. The usual. 8:07am. What the hell? I thought it was like 1pm with how I felt and how everything looked. Where the hell did Lloyd have to go at 8pm?

I slowly opened Lloyd’s door and peeked out it, taking one look down the long hallway. I took a deep breath. It’s a long hallway. How big is this place? I didn’t really get a good look at it. It was already bigger than any home I’d been in before. That’s when I made myself pause. This wasn’t a house. It was a monastery. That meant other people lived here, specifically monks. It was also owned and used by Lloyd’s uncle whose father is the first spinjitsu master. That meant that this wasn’t a normal monastery and in fact it was dedicated to ninjitsu and the first spinjitsu master’s techniques and teachings. It was also evident in the engravings and painting in the walls and supporting poles of the building. I didn’t even realise how far I’d walked when looking at the decor until I was staring into a kitchen. Empty. Thank god. I was really hungry. I can’t just take their food though. That would be extremely rude. Unless I just took Lloyd’s food. I bet they all share though. I’ll wait. I’m starving though. My throat is dry. Having some water isn’t rude, is it? Where the hell are the cups? It’s rude to snoop. Why is etiquette so hard? I’ll suffer. I’d rather suffer than be asked the condensing question of ‘what are you doing?’ Before I could leave, a voice made me jump.

“Not hungry?” An older woman’s voice. I frowned as I turned to see her. Her hair was in a singular grey braid. This is the woman I saw with Lloyd before. In the room with the hole. This is his mother. The woman who abandoned him.

“No.” I lied. My stomach stayed quiet. “Just trying to make my way around.” I said and she smiled.

“In Misako, Lloyd’s mother.” She introduced herself and I nodded.

“Peach, Lloyd’s girlfriend.” I said and Misako’s smile didn’t falter.

“Do you mind giving me your real name?” She asked and I nodded.

“I do mind.” I said, finally smiling back. “If I wanted you to know it, I would’ve said it.” I turned on my heel and went to walk out.

“I understand you’ve only heard about me through Lloyd and he is very upset.” Misako started and I rolled my eyes, turning around again.

“Rightfully so.” I said and she just nodded.

“But it was to try and find a way around the final battle- see, I knew from his birth that he would be the green ninja. So I left him at that school to do everything I could to try and stop it.” She said and I narrowed my eyes.

“I’m not following.” I said and Misako sighed.

“I had to try to put a stop to all this.” Misako said and I nodded.

“No, I got that- I just don’t get why you’re telling me and not Lloyd why you left him.” I said and she came a little closer.

“I tried, he didn’t want to hear it.” Misako said and I ‘oh’d’.

“And you want me to try and talk to him?” I asked and she smiled.

“You are in his prophecies, helping him in any way.” That freaked me out. “You have to start playing your part.” She told me and now I was annoyed. Lloyd did not inherit a thing from this woman.

“Where is he, by the way?” I asked and Misako seemed to ease up, thank god. Except she was still sort of close to me.

“You think about him a lot, don’t you?” This felt creepy now. She reached out a hand to put on my shoulder and my arm glitched causing her hand to go through my body. When she retracted her hand and nodded to herself, I remained neutral. “He’s with the others and Wu in the dojo, training.” Misako said and I nodded.

“Okay. Thank you.” I said and sped out. I had no clue what was up with that woman but I was starting to think it was best Lloyd wasn’t raised by her. This whole place was weird and all the authoritative figures were eery and thoroughly made my skin crawl. Back down the long hallway I went, trying to ignore the fact Lloyd’s mother was apparently following me. She split into another room not long after and I thanked any spiritual being listening. I heard voices at one point and stopped at the open door. Actually none of these dojo rooms had doors. There I saw the 5 ninjas surrounding Lloyd who blindfolded.

“Don’t rely on your eyes, use your ears.” Earth said and they all suddenly drew their weapons and charged at Lloyd. I watched in silence as they fought. Lloyd expertly dodging and even disarming them at some points. It wasn’t until the blue one flew past me, into the hallway and onto the floor was I noticed.

“Oh, hey… I’m Jay by the way.” He said and raised his hand from where he was laying on the floor, I shook it and smiled. He was ginger and had a mass of freckles populating his skin that wasn’t as pale as expected from a ginger.

“Peach.” I said and he smiled.

“Nice to meet you!” Jay stood and nodded before jumping back in the fight. I watched as Lloyd wore them down and worked on not exhausting himself before lighting up his green elemental fire which apparently signalled that he had won or the fight was over? I don’t know. However, I tried not to jump when he suddenly turned to me. Sythe in hand and smirked.

“Hey Peaches.” Lloyd said and I tried not to give too physical a reaction. And he have to sound so smug.

“Good morning.” I said and he chuckled.

“Feels like mid afternoon with how early we got up.” Kai said, from where he was sitting on the floor.

“I hate to tell you, Peach, but I don’t think training is over yet so I can’t see you until Cole tells me I can take this off.” Lloyd said and I laughed.

“Shame, I woke up hotter than I was yesterday.” I told him and he whipped around to the others.

“Bro I could not care less-! Just use your stamina on something other than us at the moment! Got I hate not having my powers!” ‘Cole’ vented and I nodded. Lloyd bent his head down and I untied the blind fold. He let his eyes adjust before looking me over.

“Wow, you did.” He said and I shoved him.

“Lloyd has game. Who would’ve thought? Not me.” Kai said and before anyone could retaliate. The ground shook violently and Kai shot up. “I’m sorry, I won’t diss your grandson again!” Kai pleaded and I looked to Lloyd confused.

“That’s not my Grandad, he likes thunder. That’s an actual earthquake.” Lloyd said and I frowned.

“What the-?” I went to question but was shut up by another shake, more violent. Lloyd held on to me, instinctively and I held grabbed onto his arm.

“Okay, that’s not good.” Jay said and Cole smacked him.

“Thanks for stating the obvious!” He said, annoyed. How did Jay annoy him so easily? Lloyd rolled his eyes and turned on a TV I hadn’t even noticed was in here. That seemed dangerous. He sat on the floor and I joined him, following his lead as most the ninja were already on the floor due to exhaustion. The two elders came in not long after and started watching the news too.

“So it’s just earthquakes?” I asked after Gale went on about how the aftershocks were getting stronger.

“It’s never just earthquakes, there’s always something wanting to destroy ninjago behind it. Last time there were earthquakes, it was because the great devourer had become ninjago city’s new train service except the only way on was through the mouth and into its stomach.” Jay said and I nodded, quickly looking up at Lloyd who shook his head.

“What could it be then?” I asked and Lloyd shrugged.

“Anything from my father to a big evil dog a this rate.” He said and I smiled.

“Would’ve be surprised if it was Garmadon, we haven’t seen him for a while.” Kai said.

“He would never.” Misako said and I couldn’t hold back the frown. “Lloyd‘s father is evil, but he would never do anything to put his son in harm’s way.” She added and I looked up to Lloyd who took a deep breath, restraining himself.

“Misako’s right. He only tried to thwart his training. This is something else.” Wu said and Lloyd stood up, offering me a hand which I took as he lifted me up.

“But what is it?” Jay asked and it went quiet before Ice whistled and a bird came out of nowhere. I jumped at the sudden animal appearing.

“My friend. Be my eyes and ears in the streets from above.” He let the bird fly out the window and I stared up at Lloyd, confusion evident.

“Zane is a nindroid. That falcon is a robot.” He explained and I nodded.

“That’s really bad, we’ve gotta get out there and start helping people.” Cole said and I looked to Lloyd.

“Right.” Lloyd said and turned to me, I nodded.

“I think I need a time out anyway.” I said and Lloyd kissed me before pulling up the mask on his gi. “Do you want to go home?” He asked and I nodded. “Come on.”

🪺. *. ⋆

My dorm building was gone. I just watched it crumble to the ground. There was dust everywhere. My eyes burned from the haze of it. The whole building just collapsed after a particular harsh quake. I was on the other side of the road. It came down like it was made out of sticks. What if someone was still in there? I felt sick. I was glad it was the holidays. My ears were ringing too. I only just recognised the crying and screaming from someone next to me. A girl, not even 13.

“My friend-! She was- I don’t know if she got out!” She said when I turned to her and I held her. “When did you speak to her?” I asked and she shook her head.

“Not even 10 minutes ago-!”

“What floor?” I asked and she took a deep breath.

“5th.” Shit.

“Maybe… come on. We’ll go look for her.” I told her and soldiered in to the haze of dust and fresh debris. “What’s her name?” I asked and the girl was still shaking.

“Kaliyah.” She said and I nodded, before yelling the name. I waited for a moment before nothing. I yelled again and the little girl followed.

“Wait- what’s your name?” I asked and she looked up at me.

“Fiona.” She said and I smiled.

“Peach, we’re gonna find your friend.” I said and Fiona smiled gratefully.

🪺. *. ⋆

The ninja had just successfully pulled a woman out essentially a growing sinkhole. All Cole could say was how annoying her dog was as he panted on the floor. In the haste. Everyone had forgotten he no longer had his super strength and was using his raw natural strength and muscle to haul the 5 of them and a woman to safety. Safe to say, his arms felt like they were just ripped off him. The woman had run off and now they were just stood, looking around at the damage as the quakes continued.

“These things keep coming with no warning!” Kai said, trying to remain on two stable feet.

“That’s it! A warning!” Misako said, pulling out a scroll from her satchel. “The scrolls said the earthquakes would be a warning. A warning for something far worse to come.” She finished and Jay immediately spoke up.

“Far worse? What could be far worse?” He asked.

“Misako? The indestructible stone warrior we fought yesterday, where did you find him?” Cole asked and Lloyd’s eyes widened.

“The one Peach put in the ground?!” He asked and Misako responded.

“He was buried under the city.” She told him.

“You don’t think there’s more do you?” Jay asked, worriedly.

“Be on guard ninja. We must be ready for whatever comes our way.” Wu said.

“Uh- Lloyd…” Kai said, and Lloyd turned to see what he was staring at. He followed Kai’s gaze to the TV screen in a shop broadcasting the news, and on it was a crumbled building. It was expected with the quakes. What wasn’t, was the sign of a particular school and the disturbing title under it.

‘Emmer’s boarding school dormitories first building to fall in unexpected earthquakes, deaths and injuries unknown.’

“Shit- I gotta go-!” Lloyd said and started running.

“Go where?!” Jay yelled after him but Kai stopped him.

“Peach’s home has just been destroyed.” Kai filled in and Jay’s eyes widened from behind the mask.

🪺. *. ⋆

I had nothing. Literally nothing. It was all gone now. What the fuck? What do I do? The only thing I could do right now was look for this little girl.

“Kaliyah! Kali-“ I paused at the sound of a sob. It sounded breathless and strained. “Kaliyah?!” I asked again and I heard it, more urgent. I looked around in the direction I heard it and saw a little leg peeling out under some rumble. I gasped and immediately started lifting the bit of rubble on top of her. “Fiona-! I found her-!” I said and heard the girl yell and head my way. I used all my strength to get the first piece of rubble off and the desperate, immediate breath that the girl took broke my heart. She was bloodied and it took all my strength to not cry at the sight. Instead I worked and dislodging the debris that had trapped her arm.

“Kaliyah! Kal-!” Fiona yelled and held the other girl’s hand.

“Help me lift her up.” I said and Fiona helped me position her better in my arms as I was forced to carry her bridal style. “Call an ambulance, now!” I said and Fiona immediately pulled her phone out. “She’s barely breathing- it must’ve crushed her lungs..” I murmured to myself and set the girl down on the flat ground near the road. Another quake came rattling through the ground and I watched as the school itself came crashing down this time. “Cover your eyes!” I yelled and Fiona, even with being on the phone dropped to ground and covered herself. I used my own body to shield Kaliyah’s and thanks to Ninjago city’s top tier healthcare, we had no idea when this ambulance would turn up. Especially with the emergency currently happening. I felt as the cloud of dust and debris came rushing over us, fiercely. I fully covered the little girl and prayed she lived to not remember this and have a happy life. I opened my eyes to check on Fiona when an ember flew in my eyes and I cried out. It stung and I couldn’t open my eye as it burned through the socket. It probably didn’t but it felt like it. I heard sirens and silently thanked the gods above.

I felt numb as they took the girl away, I told Fiona to go with them. She was unsure but I nodded. It didn’t matter about me being alone and having nowhere to go because Lloyd appeared and rushed over to me. Immediately checking me over. I was probably covered in dust and debris and the odd cut.

“What the hell happened?!” He asked and I shrugged.

“My school and dorm collapsed and I just dug out a 12yr old from some rubble and had to dislodge part of a radiator from her arm so her lungs wouldn’t be considerably crushed. Oh by the way! I have nothing and am currently homeless.” I said and he shook his head.

“No you’re not… come live with me.” He said and I nodded.

“Can’t believe we’re already moving in together… can’t believe I almost died.” I said and he held me tighter.

“You’re safe now, okay?” He said and I just leant on him. “Peach? Y/n?” He asked when I didn’t respond and I just smiled.

“I think I’m gonna pass out…” I said and he shook his head and bent his head down to look at me.

“No, you’re not… not atleast until we’re out of here. Buildings keep falling around here.” Lloyd said and I smiled.

“Tell me about it.” I joked and he shook his head.

“C’mon… the stone warriors are going to be attacking soon- well they already are but more.” He told me and I frowned.

“The who?” I asked and Lloyd grabbed my hand, leading me back to ninjago city.

“Y’know that big live statue from yesterday?” He told me and my face dropped.

“And you’re taking me to it?!” I almost screeched.

“No! Everyone is being evacuated to the top of the news tower and then we’re going to use the bounty to evacuate as many as we can.” He added and I frowned.

“The bounty?! Lloyd- what’s going on?!” I asked and he didn’t stop running but briefly looked at me.

“We think the final battle is starting. The earthquakes are meant to be a warning according to my mother.” Lloyd said and I looked up at him.

“What the fuck…?” I questioned.

“My thoughts exactly.”

#lloyd garmadon x reader #ninjago lloyd #cole brookstone #green ninja #earth ninja #jay walker #kai smith #lloyd garmadon #ninjago #ninjago cole #nya smith #ninjago zane #ninjago nya #ninjago kai #ninjago jay #the first spinjitzu master #fire ninja #ninjago misako #ninjago garmadon

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starlitangels · 5 months

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Mundanely Magic

Winter is coming, y'all. I get (rather famously in my family) really noticeably down in the winter. I'm trying, this year, to actually enjoy it. Complain less about the snow and the cold and how early the darkness arrives. So I wrote this to try and remind myself that there are good parts of winter too 1.4k words

This could also be considered a quasi-sequel to Meeting the Family

—

"What do you miss?" Avior asked. We sat on the edge of the First Circle's cliff, looking down into the pit. Winds buffeted us on either side. I was trying to imagine the firelight spread out by the smoke was a sunset.

"Well, right now in this heat, I miss the place where I grew up," I said. Avior leaned back on his hands and gave me a curious look. "I'm not from Dahlia. I moved there to go to the academy. The night we ended up here... back home it would be cold and there would probably be snow on the ground. Dahlia's winters are too mild for that. But right now, I'm missing sitting in the bay window at the front of my parents' house, looking out at a gentle snowfall on a weekend. A mug of hot chocolate in my hand. Snow... sometimes suppresses sound. Some snowfalls after dark render the world so quiet. It's peaceful."

Avior stared into the middle distance. "Tell me about it? I've experienced snow, but not like that."

I took a deep breath and sighed. "When it's a quiet night snowfall, the snow sometimes reflects and disperses the light of street lamps and other artificial light. So it's not dark. The effect is called snowglow or skyglow. There's something mundanely magic about watching a fresh blanket of white cover everything. One time, we'd had a fresh snowfall overnight. When my mom drove me to school the next morning, the headlights of the car glittered off the undisturbed snow on the road like it was covered in diamonds.

"As winter progresses, the snow close to the road tends to get covered in the dirty water kicked up by car tires. Then it gets all grey and black and icky. Even the ten-foot-high piles of it in grocery store parking lots that are put there to try to clear the lot. But there's nothing like watching it come down fresh and pure and white and quiet on a night when you can just stay and watch through a window with a cozy blanket and a warm mug. Maybe some soft music playing in the background. Maybe someone putting up MoonBound solstice decorations in the other room.

"A lot of my neighbors growing up celebrated Christmas. Not all of them, but a lot. And they'd have Christmas lights strung up on the outside of their houses. And in those lights, you could see these big, fat, white snowflakes drifting slow and easy from the under-lit clouds hanging low in the sky.

"Sometimes snow falls fast and heavy and builds up on surfaces quickly. You look away to make lunch and the picnic table in the backyard went from an inch of snow to six.

"But the nights when it's falling slow and lazy... if you open the window you can hear the quiet chorus of each heavy flake joining its fellows on the surface of the world. It can be difficult to hear, but if you know what to listen for, it is audible.

"Couple all that with a nice mug of hot chocolate... maybe with a little bit of caramel... it's amazing."

Avior sighed. "It sounds beautiful," he said wistfully.

I nodded. "Maybe one day, when we get out of here, you can rift somewhere cold and experience it."

He leaned and nudged me in the shoulder with his arm. "I don't think I should. Because I'd need to bring my snow expert with me."

I laughed and shook my head. "You'd be fine. The only thing that's dangerous is driving in snow if you don't know how. You'd be totally fine on your own."

Avior met my gaze. "I'm serious. I'd rather take you with me. Someone familiar with the environment and whom I am familiar with..." His Adam's Apple bobbed. "You're my friend."

I pursed my lips in a half-smile. "Thanks, Avior. I... appreciate it."

He took a deep breath. "I wish I could make us both a peaceful snowfall. Unfortunately, I don't think even magic snow could survive the heat of this Hell."

I stared at the firelight I was pretending was a sunset. "Yeah, I doubt it. But it's okay. We'll find a way to get out of here, and then one day you can see it for real. With... with me." I cleared my throat and scratched the back of my head.

He hummed softly. "I'd like that," he said.

"Me... me too." I found myself believing that.

We'd been here for a month. Testy around one another. Suspicious. Guarded. Lowering our walls and our guards slowly. Settling into an uneasy truce. A tentative alliance, almost. This companionable, easy conversation was one of the first of its kind here.

I patted his shoulder. "One day, Avior. I promise."

He grinned. "I'm holding you to that."

"I believe you."

—

Three "Years" Later...

—

"Here you go," I said, handing the mug to Avior. He took it. I sat next to him in the bay window at my parents' house, looking out. He kissed the side of my head.

"Thank you, starlight," he said quietly.

Through the wall that separated the formal living room from the kitchen and casual living room—that we'd always called the family room—I could hear my mom playing quiet music, singing along as she hung the MoonBound solstice streamers. Long strings with silver crescent moons and stars hanging off them. My dad, being the only Sonal Energetic in a family of Freelancers, was the reason we tended to celebrate the MoonBound solstice more than the SunBound.

The reason I'd brought Avior home with me.

He took a sip, not seeming to notice that the hot chocolate was still hot enough to burn. I glanced over at him. In the reflection of his gold eyes, I could see the snow falling.

I leaned against his side and went back to watching the snow falling. He wrapped an arm around me. The bay window in the formal living room was barely big enough for two adults—especially when one was a demon, since demons tended to be taller than humans. But it was cozy to snuggle together.

The snowfall was the way I'd described it to him, all that time ago in Hell. Fat, slow flakes drifting lazily toward the ground. Light bouncing off the clouds and snow despite the sun going down hours ago. Rendering the world dimly lit. My parents' street was slowly turning white as the blanket built up on everything. The trashcans near the house already had little flat, white hats on top of the lids.

Avior peeked over his shoulder toward the archway that led back to where my mom was decorating. He smiled. "I'm glad I came with you."

"Just to see the snow? Or meet my family? Or...?" I tilted my head, trailing off the question as a prompt.

"All the above," Avior said. "I've never seen snow like this."

I smiled and leaned forward, unlocking the window latch. "Listen to it. So quiet you can hear the whispering of the flakes falling."

"Starlight, you'll let the heat out," he chided in a whisper.

"I'm only opening it for a few seconds." I pulled. The window released and slid on its track to one side. Avior immediately tilted his head so his ear was closest to the outside, eyebrows scrunched.

Before raising as a surprised smile replaced the curiosity. His gold eyes glittered in the reflection of the neighbor's Christmas lights and the obnoxiously orange streetlight a few houses down. His hand found mine and squeezed tight. "This is..." He shook his head. "I don't even know how to describe it."

I grinned and shut the window. "Mundanely magic?" I suggested.

His gaze met mine. "Exactly. That's what you said the first time you told me about this, right?"

I nodded. "Yep."

"What a perfect way to say it."

Through the archway, a loud beep almost made me leap. I took a large swig of my hot chocolate—burning my tongue—and handed my mug to Avior.

Right as my mom called my name. "Will you get the cookies out of the oven?"

"On it!" I replied, already moving toward the kitchen.

—

Tag list: @pinksparkl

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Avior #Redacted Starlight #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic

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kinetic-elaboration · 1 year

Text

December 22: Bellarke, String of Lights + Only One Bed

2022 Ficmas #3

Bellamy/Clarke, Modern AU, ~1200 words

For the prompt "string of lights + only one bed"

At first, when the snowstorm hits, they all have a wonderful time. No one's going to brave the roads in this weather, but the apartment still has electricity and heat, and Raven and Clarke keep their fridge stocked with plenty of food. An extension of Friends-mas, that's all: they watch another Christmas movie, make another round of hot chocolate—this time, not spiked, but with the extra marshmallows that Raven finds in the back of the cupboard—and huddle together under the blankets Clarke takes down from the top linen closet shelf. Outside, a heavy deluge of thick white flakes, slashing down endlessly through the black. They keep the curtains slightly open for a glimpse of the storm.

Inside, the artificial warmth of the heater, the softness of fuzzy blankets and thick fleece socks, and Clarke's head on Bellamy's shoulder while they watch Elf. Jasper and Monty do impressions. Miller leaves for a moment to call his boyfriend, to make sure he's getting home all right, comes back with a report that Jackson's safe in a roadside motel at least, and even Murphy murmurs a low assent: "That's good." Raven is sitting on his lap, under the pretense that she has nowhere else to go. The living room's not very big but it feels soft and safe in all its details, down to the familiar lumps on the couch, or Bellamy's steady breathing, which Clarke can feel because she's left her hand resting against his chest. Her mouth still tastes of chocolate and sugar.

When it's time to go to bed, the space becomes something of a problem. For a bit, Clarke had wondered if they'd all simply fall asleep on the couch and the floor. She saw Miller nodding off there while the credits rolled. But then Monty mentioned wanting to brush his teeth, and Jasper started stretching and rolling his head back along his shoulders to take out the kinks. Even Bellamy sat up, pulled his arm away from her and leaned his elbows on his knees and looked around, as if wondering what he should do next. The group falls apart along fault lines.

In the end, it's decided that Jasper and Monty will take the pullout couch. Miller volunteers himself to sleep on the floor, in the sleeping bag that Raven pulls out of her closet. Murphy will, of course, be bunking with Raven in her room.

That leaves Bellamy to stay with Clarke.

She changes into her pajamas, slowly brushes her hair while she listens to the water running in the bathroom: someone, maybe more than one someone, brushing their teeth. The evening has left her sluggish and half-asleep. How little it matters, and how much all at once, that Bellamy will be sleeping with her in her bed.

She closes the curtains against the still-raging snow, lines up her slippers next to her bed for the morning, turns on her bedside lamp and turns off the overhead light. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she turns on her Christmas lights, too.

"Clarke?"

Bellamy's voice, tentatively, from the other side of the door. He raps his knuckles against it softly. "Are you asleep?"

"No—" She pads across the floorboards in her sock-feet and lets him in. "Just got a start on turning off the lights. Come in."

He looks softer than she's used to, in a t-shirt and sweatpants he borrowed from Murphy's I-swear-I-don't-live-here stash, the legs too short and the t-shirt too small across the chest, and his hair still mussed because it always looks like that now. He's grown it out so long. She can see the way it wants to curl. He approaches her bed tentatively, and she has to pull the covers all the way back and slide into her side before he clambers in. Soft but large, against the tiny blue snowflakes on her comforter, her flannel pillowcases in purples and greens. Awkward, looking down at the rough palms of his own hands.

"I like your lights," he says, as Clarke pulls the blankets up over them. She's swallowing Bellamy up in her bedclothes, trapping him—they could be kids again, for a moment—she could pull the sheets up over their heads and make them a little fort.

For a few seconds, she doesn't know what he means. Then—"Oh! Yeah, thanks."

She's strung red and green Christmas lights from her ceiling, ringing them around the room. They blink slowly in the darkness. She tilts her head back to watch them, following Bellamy's gaze, and after a moment, she hears the light click of the bedside lamp shutting off. Nothing left now but the string of holiday colors. Slowly shading off and then back on.

"They're festive," Bellamy says, and then before she can answer—more small talk only; her voice, she's sure, would be as distracted and as distant as his sounds—he adds, "Are you sure it's okay, me staying with you?"

"Well I'm not going to send you out in the storm," she says. "And I don't think you'll fit in Miller's sleeping bag. And I know you don’t want to get between Murphy and Raven. And—"

"That's not what I meant."

He reaches out and grabs for her hand in the dark. She feels his broad palm wrapped around her fingers, crushing them together, as if he were searching for anchor. Asking a question he can’t ask.

"Yeah," she breathes, into a long silence. "It's fine."

In her heart of hearts, she knows, it's more than fine. She wants to fall asleep on top of him. She wants to listen to his heartbeat with her ear against his chest, and his arm around her. She wants him to feel entitled to splay his palm over her hip.

"We're friends," she adds.

For a long moment, Bellamy doesn't answer. He lets go of her hand and settles himself down on the bed. She can hear him moving against the sheets, and when she glances down, she sees by the glow of the Christmas lights, that he's moved onto his side, facing her. The green and red cast a soft sheen against his skin. "We are friends," he agrees. Smiles a little. "This is a nice mattress. Glad I helped you haul it up three floors."

Clarke slides down beneath the blankets, turned on her side, facing him. "I'm glad you did, too," she answers, and her voice sounds far away, and the words are just something to say as she looks at Bellamy's eyelashes and meet the steady gaze of his eyes.

She asks him if he'd like her to turn off the lights, and he says that it's all right, leave them on, and after a while, she moves closer, so his arm is around her again. But this time in the privacy of her room, the gesture feels like so much more. The cold winter storm rages on beyond her window. But she's warm and at peace in the quiet and the dark, falling asleep to the sound of Bellamy's breathing, soft in the heat generated by her body wrapped around his.

#the 100 #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #mine #my writing #the year 2022 #2022: free write #ficmas 2022

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comfy-whumpee · 1 year

Text

Village Vagrant

@crash-bump-bring-the-whump treated me today, so I thought I should share some more Northlight.

@bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektric-whump, @raigash, @paingineering, @whumpywhumper, and special thanks to @that-one-thespian for Northlight’s story.

There's no colour here, and it's terrible. Everything is grey and white, a slowly descending cloud of monochrome eating up the landscape that would once have been so vibrant. There is no bright grass, no sparkling wildflowers, nothing so nice. All Northlight can see are some wizened, bare-boned trees, and the grey expanse of the sky where the sun is never seen.

The snow drifts like tiny bites of cold fluttered over skin, gentle enough for the first few minutes, and much worse if left for more. Northlight scrunches their nose as a flake lands in their eyebrow and melts against it, sliding down into the socket of their eye, the cold trace of a finger as smooth as a soprano note.

The first of many. The snow crawls into their hair and soaks into their clothing. It trickles down their neck and over their scalp. Their fingers start to numb off, the very tips of them going hard and dead. It's not frostbite, not yet, but it doesn't feel good. It feels like their body is shrinking down.

But their leg has twisted under them and landed them in a ditch, and they can't get out.

The nice thing about the snow is that it numbs the pain with cold ropes around their limbs. It tightens the blood under the skin until it barely flows, like water under a sheet of ice. Northlight tries to lift their head from the ground, but it is too heavy, soaked through with tired thoughts of how long they've been walking. They don't mind the cold if they can get a shelter, but this fall has dealt those plans a fatal blow. All they can do right now is lie still and wait, and hope their freedom could still be negotiated, if someone from the cult was to find them.

Does the cult even exist in this time? They don't know when it is, only that there is nothing in the sky; none of those new-fangled satellites that flash green and red. No, there are more stars, natural stars. Northlight could see everything, if they were able to turn their head to look.

It's a shame it's night. Someone might have found them in the day. They can't hear a road or a city, though. They can't hear anything but the wind. Maybe there's nobody around to find them. How long will they be here, if that's the case?

Winter is the worst season. Everywhere is cold, and nobody wants to come out and see a stranger. Sometimes people are kinder, but only if they're in a good mood, with some holiday to look forward to. More often, they're moving quick, and they're not looking down at where Northlight might be sitting and hoping for kindness. They're too occupied with getting warm again.

The world starts to fuzz out as more white and grey pile around them. Their hair must be mostly white by now. They can't feel the tip of their nose or their toes. The ground feels like it is soaking them up as a frozen part of the landscape. From outside in, Northlight feels the freeze try to take them.

They don't have the energy to fight it off. They can only lie, feeling it absorb them into its deathly embrace, and let their mind drift to happier times.

"Get the cart! Caidy, the cloak. Alright, stranger, here we go."

The sound of someone's voice tugs at Northlight's sleeve, a confident male voice, directing others around him. Moments later, a real set of arms wrap around Northlight's stiff body and bundle it into a sturdy, thick fabric. Wool brushes against their skin and they feel themself settled against a cold wooden surface. Footsteps sound around them, hard, not on the snow-covered ground. Then the tug of movement, real movement, alerts them to what's happening.

The cult has found them.

Big hands feel their gentle way up Northlight's leg, finding the swollen joint. "Get me some snow to pack around this," the man in charge calls, and Northlight wonders if it's Kurt Swindon. "Don't worry friend, you're in good hands. We'll get you warm and rested before long."

He sounds like Kurt, mellow and kind. Northlight thinks about the blood moving sluggishly back into their fingers and toes. At least they're not in the cold anymore, and their wet clothes are gone, replaced by the wrapper of something warm and furred. They should move, throw themself through to another era, but… If this is a Kurt before he met Northlight - calling them stranger - perhaps they can learn something.

A dreadful chill packs around their knee, and they try to breathe through the pain, knowing they're only going to have to wait. They don't know where or when they are, and for the time being at least, they need the cultists to think they're unconscious so they don't get marked.

"You picking up strangers again, Sam?"

"Aye."

Sam. Oh, they loved someone called Sam once. This isn't that Sam.

"Looks half dead."

"He ain't though."

"S'pose."

Northlight keeps still and silent for the journey, and doesn't move more than a little when they're scooped up into carry. Still bundled in the cloak, but with snow falling from their leg, it takes everything they have not to curl up in the safety of strong arms and forget the danger facing them.

They lie tense, but they are set down again on smooth wood. There is no pain or digging knife. No sigil scars them. Instead, people pack in on either side, and they begin to move. The tug and lull of a horse-drawn cart is more soothing than any ambulance. These people are in no hurry to secure them or lock them away. They huddle together with Northlight between their legs, and hunch over them to enclose their body in a tent of warmth.

"I hope they weren't out there for too long," someone says, apparently deciding Northlight is not conscious enough to talk to directly.

"In that snow, it's a good thing you found them, Sam."

"They were hard to see, covered in that snow. But I know my tracks even half-covered in moonlight."

"That you do."

"It'll be good to get them by a fire."

"I'll fetch some of my tea, that'll put him right."

"Must be a traveller or a beggar."

"No beggar's going to go hungry around here."

The simple affirmations and plans are passed between the people above with simple, confident motions. They will have each necessary provision as they are all needed. There is the possibility or more support of they wanted it. These people take on the duty of care to others as simply and matter-of-factly as they took finding them in a ditch in the snow. Plan has been set already. Jobs are volunteered for, not allocated. They are in good hands.

Northlight turns their face into the fur and hides tears. Good hands have picked them up to carry them to safety.

Always, the thought trickles in, that maybe these people haven't seen their face well enough yet. Maybe it's only a matter of time. Their scar always gives them away, and the Alliance made sure all their followers and debtors recognise it. There might be just one person in this group wishing harm upon them. They wouldn't know if it was too late.

But there is a heavy blanket over them and the cart moves at a steady roll, and it's too hard to consider moving when their body is only just returning from its hibernation. Their skin tingles sharply as blood begins to circulate smoothly again, and is this why they were saved? To make the flow flow instead of freezing in their veins? They are a vessel, after all.

"Old Mahon's got a bed he can spare," someone was saying above their head. "He'll be glad of the company."

"Aye so. Should we get a change of clothes also? These ones are soaked through."

"I can lend some. My Daniel's about a fitting size. Warm and dry is better'n this."

"We'll have to bring the firewood in for Old Mahon, he can't do it himself after a day's work."

Their whole conversation was about where to put them. Some old man had space, but was he safe or was he someone paying these innocent villagers to bring him a scarred vagrant? Perhaps he was a politician or pastor or sheriff, something that would command authority so nobody could refuse.

It felt smothering.

They rest of the journey passed quietly. Northlight lay tense, even as shivers started to climb through them. They couldn't relax with these dangerous people all around them. They knew how cowardly it was, but if these villagers meant them harm, they would find out soon. They didn't want to do anything to make the mask slip prematurely.

When the cart rolled to a stop, the sound of footsteps and shuffling warned them before two pairs of arms gently hoisted them upright. "Here, stranger," said a low voice, with every apparent kindness. "We'll take the weight off you. Try to keep your feet under."

"Can he walk, Jane?" someone asked from below, already on the ground.

"Well enough," Jane called back. Northlight was floated to the ground on many helping hands, and then the walk began. "That's it, nice 'n slow. I've got you. I'm Jane, and on your other side, that's my brother Wilbur. You're not going far, we're going to get you into the house here, this is Mrs Steward's. She's got food to spare." A door creaked, and a moment later they were deposited into a cushioned chair.

"Good evening, friend." A new voice. Northlight thought of Kurt, but it couldn't be Kurt, could it? "I'm Doctor Featherstone. I just want to check you over, and then we'll get some food in you. Can you look at me?"

Oh. How long have they had their eyes closed? They peel them back, wincing at the crackle of their iced eyelashes. The doctor is decidedly not Kurt Swindon. He is grey and aged, with a deep-set pair of brown eyes that show kindled warmth.

"Very good," he says, moving his head back and forth slightly, meeting Northlight's eyes until they look away. "Can you drink? It's warm, not too hot."

There's tea on the table. They hadn't heard it arrive. Stiff, aching hands uncurl from their instinctive fists and Northlight winces as tired, cold joints are forced into motion. They were tense on the ground for so long, trying to keep the cold away, that it hurts to relax. Tender swelling pain flares across their muscles as they do it, their shoulders worst of all. They breathe out shakily, and close their hands around the mug.

"Steady now," the doctor cautions softly. Much more like Sam than Kurt.

Warm, salty broth floods into their mouth, and they swallow before they can taste it, but it comes. Lean meat stock, maybe rabbit, and something herbal they can't place.

When did this blanket get here? This is nice. Featherstone is apparently satisfied after watching them use their hands. He turns out to have just one more question. "Can you speak, friend? Perhaps ell us your name?"

Northlight swallows another mouthful with a wince. Always, words. Their life is made of words, spoken and unspoken, gathered and lost. They can give one, maybe two, today. Maybe not even that.

They force one out. It flows like melted chocolate in their mouth. "Roa."

"Well met, Roa. Rest now, and I'll be back tomorrow. I'll leave you with Mrs Steward."

They nod heavily. They hope he tells Mrs Steward, otherwise she'll probably ask again. These things are never over easily. She'll be nosy, or rude, or flirtatious and demanding…

In the end, Mrs Steward doesn't say a word. She simply sets a plate down before them with rough slices of bread, some hard cheese and a diced apple. The thoughtfulness makes them smile. The fact she added a small chunk of parkin makes it even better.

She moves away again without speaking or even waiting to listen. Northlight waits until she's not looking, and pockets the cheese before wolfing down the rest. They can never be sure how long they have in one place like his, so kindness is best not wasted in the moment.

Once all the food is gone, and the tea is gone too, Mrs Stewart helps them up and takes them across the street on her surprisingly steady arm. "There we are. You'll sleep with Old Mahon, he's got space since his son is in the war. He'll be glad of the company. Don't be shy."

Northlight checks their step as they process the sweeping implications of that simple word. War. They can't begin to guess which war, but that explains the ready generosity, the loneliness and interest in a stranger, and the need to help. It explains why they've only seen the young and old so far, and married women with no husbands around.

A community gutted by the theft of their healthy men. Northlight hates all kinds of war, but they're glad, selfishly, it's not one of the bigger ones. There's precious little kindness to go around in those times.

Old Mahon lives in a ragged building, but when Mrs Steward opens the door, it becomes clear that the façade is deceiving. Inside is a warm, smoky room with a blazing fire, and the warmth hits like a horse. Northlight stumbles, and Mrs Steward helps them to the bed on one side of the room, where the son perhaps slept while staying with his father. Old Mahon doesn't speak, and seems to be absorbed in his miniature inferno. Someone clearly made good on the suggestion he'd need firewood bringing in for him. He's making great use of it.

"There we are, Mahon," Mrs Steward announces when Northlight is settled on the straw mattress. "I'll leave our friend Roa with you, and be by in the morning with breakfast. You know where to come if you need me, don't you?"

"Thank you," Mahon tells her gravely, his voice a wizened croak of great dignity. "Rest well, stranger."

Northlight pulls the blanket up over their body, but sleep is not easily caught. It scampers away like a snow rabbit. They watch the fire, then Mahon's profile in the dancing flames. He looks sad from over here. Lonely. He must be, knowing his son is in a foreign land, could be already dead or horribly wounded, and he wouldn't know until far later. No wife, likely already gone to the grave before him. Only Mrs Steward to check on him best she can, lonely too without her man.

"Are you comfortable?" Mahon asks, noticing Northlight's stare.

"I am. I have many to thank many times over for how I have been welcomed today."

Mahon grumbles a laugh. "That's as we do, here. As long as you're not Spanish."

"No, sir."

"Hmph. Good. Or French."

"Not at all, sir. I speak a little."

"So does my son, these days. Everyone's a soldier."

"Not me, sir."

"No, you've been and done your time, haven't you?" Mahon nods. "A wicked scar they left you with."

Northlight feels no shame at agreeing. "I'm just glad of my life, and that of my regiment. There were five of them, you see, all from the same town, not mine but they were close-knit friends. The bravest of them was called Elana, and then there was a boy called Fletcher, he was more sensitive but the best cook you could get. The leader…"

Spinning a tale together is an easy resting activity, and as they tell it, the image in their mind only grows clearer and clearer. They weave their vision into words, sinking into it like a warm bath, and relax their eyes, and eventually, their imagination becomes dream, and reality takes a break.

#rescue #comfort #environmental whump #my fic #whump #northlight #time traveller #frostbite #hypothermia

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whumpcloud · 1 year

Text

Delirium

taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg @gala1981 @whump-in-the-moonlight @ohwhumpydays

content: buried alive, lady whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, two whumpers, captivity whump, defiant whumpee, claustrophobia, brief + non-detailed past whump (whumpee is fourteen, development of claustrophobia and brief reference to suicide), brief self-harm reference

They're dragging Derian outside.

The outside consists only of the forest outside the Wainwright cottage, but Derian feels as though he's barely breathed fresh air since being brought here.

Of course, Ophelia isn't giving him a single opportunity to get away. He's still injured, broken bones not quite healed, so he isn't sure what she thinks he'll do. He doesn't think he could run even if he tried.

Ophelia drops him on the edge of a shallow grave, and Derian only doesn't fall because Nicolas grabs the back of his shirt collar to hold him steady.

"Spent the better part of thirty minutes digging this out," Nicolas grins. "Hope it's worth the effort."

Derian looks into the grave. Its only contents are an open, empty wooden box, a deadbolt affixed to it, just big enough to fit someone of his size.

He flinches when he notices Ophelia on his other side, nonchalantly resting her head against his.

"This is for Nicky, really," Ophelia sighs, like this is the most mundane thing in the world. "He thinks it might fuck you up a bit. But it doesn't even mark you."

"W-Wait." Derian is already starting to push against Nicolas. "Y-You're not-- you're not putting me in there."

"That's exactly what we're doing, pretty boy," Nicolas grins.

"N-No!" Derian can already feel the pressure closing around him. "Please, please, I-- I'm claustrophobic, I can't--!"

"Then we'll hear you scream from up here," Ophelia shrugs.

They shove him into the shallow grave, and Nicolas kicks the box shut.

A strangled scream rips through Derian's throat as soon as he hears the thud of the bolt. He's trapped. This isn't real. It's a nightmare that he's going to wake up from any moment now, and curl up tightly and press his face into Charlie's shoulder until it reminds him where he is.

"PLEASE!" Derian slams his fists and feet against the lid of the wooden box. "LET ME OUT! P-PLEASE!"

"Come on, you've seen movies like this before, right?" Nicolas says, and Derian knows he hasn't dropped that stupid, smug smile. "You're only wasting your air."

The tears are streaming down Derian's face. He can't breathe anyway. His chest feels like a taut elastic band, sharply spasming every time he breathes in, breathes out, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out--

Derian weakly kicks at the box, but he knows it's useless. He covers his eyes with his hands, even though the pressure is closing around him. He's going to die. He's going to suffocate in a stupid wooden box in a stupid forest and nobody is ever going to find him.

The air feels so thin. How long has he been down here? It can't have been longer than a few minutes. It's still too much.

What was it Charlie always told him? Grounding techniques. Five things you can see. But he can't see anything.

Doesn't matter. Move on. Four things he can feel. His clothes - Nicolas' old clothes, always oversized on him. The wood of the box, flaking into splinters. His hair on his face. The sweat on his shaking hands.

Three things he can hear. The thump of dirt. They're actually burying him. He thought it was his heartbeat.

He slams his head back, physical pain to snap himself into focus, and presses his palms flat. Don't tense up. Stay calm.

"H-How long?" Derian's voice cracks when he speaks. "'Til I need air?"

The thumping stops for a moment. Derian hears the sound of the shovel sliding into the dirt. He tries to picture something that isn't the engulfing darkness around him - Nicolas leaning on the shovel, smiling, Ophelia lying boredly on the grass for Nicolas to be done with this so she can beat Derian to a bloody pulp.

"Five hours," Nicolas says. "Give or take."

Five hours. Derian bites his lip hard enough to make it bleed. They don't want him dead yet, and they know he won't be able to tell how long it's been. Four hours at most.

"Nnh…" Derian turns onto his side. At least he can move. It isn't like then.

A cupboard, packed in tight, banging on the door while his mom shakily locks it. A gunshot he has nightmares about. He isn't stupid. Something in him breaks. It's seven hours until his dad comes home, and he can't even curl up on the floor to sob. It's too close. He can't breathe. He is fourteen and his mom is gone.

Derian's breath catches in his throat, and he swallows. He's twenty. Buried alive. There are two people above him who want him to suffer.

He wants to suffer too.

But more importantly, he wants to live.

He laughs, an awkward, sobbed sound. He's not supposed to feel like this. Near delirium to even think it. But God, he wants to live. He wants to feel a car rushing past, the cold of an ice cream, the fear of a rollercoaster just before the drop, another cigarette pressed against his skin. Everything that doesn't hurt and everything that does.

He's going to live as long as he keeps the siblings entertained. If they want him to suffer, he's all too happy to oblige. Pain means he's still alive.

He takes slow breaths. He knows his shaking is getting worse the longer he's trapped here, knows if he stops focusing his breathing will become so erratic he won't be able to control it again, but he doesn't let himself think about anything else.

Two things he can feel. Pain and the dirt falling through the cracks.

One thing he can taste. Blood.

However long it's been when he hears the shovel again doesn't matter. He's in control. A rush of adrenaline courses through him.

Derian gasps in the fresh air when Nicolas pulls him out of the box and up onto the grass again. He hadn't realised how much of a struggle it was before.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Nicolas says softly, putting a hand on Derian's shoulder. "That's it. Breathe."

If he gives them the chance to bury his body, they'll bury it here. He's going to be buried kicking and screaming.

Derian punches Nicolas in the throat.

#polly's prose #derian rodriquez #nicolas wainwright #ophelia wainwright #whump #whump writing #captivity whump #buried alive #i love my fucked up little guy.#athazagoraphobia

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littleperilstories · 1 year

Text

The Prince of Thieves: When the Snow Falls

Warnings: HA nothing scary today. SO THERE. Like the F&F Christmas episode story, I also wrote this one pretty fast, and since I wanted to post it TODAY (it's still Christmas in my time zone...barely), it didn’t get much editing. Beware of typos and bad sentences; feel free to let me know if you find any. 😂 Enjoy!

OH! And just for funzies, this Christmas special is written in third-person, past-tense! Surprise!

TPOT Masterlist

Word count: 1348 || Approx reading time: 5 mins

Teaser: Jamie nodded, making his father laugh, and from the other side of the room, there was a soft sigh and sleepy moan. Cringing, Jamie glanced back at his brother to see if he’d woken up at the sound of laughter. Luckily, he still seemed fast asleep.

All the neighbourhood children, thought Jamie Wardrew, were going to collectively lose their heads when they woke up. Everything, from the streets to the trees to the rooftops, was covered in pristine white snow. Fat flakes were drifting through the watery light of sunrise, painting lazy arcs in the air as they blanketed the world in white. Jamie stood next to his dad by the window and echoed the peaceful, contented sigh that fogged the old, warped glass windowpane of the family’s rented townhouse.

“Better appreciate the quiet now, son.” Dad rested his brown, calloused hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Once the little ones wake up, this entire street will be in utter chaos.”

Jamie rubbed his eyes and glanced at the dimly lit room behind them. Ma was already at the fire, warming cider made from autumn’s plump red apples. The steaming spiced cider was for their dad, to drink and to warm his hands with before he departed for work. The “little one” of their family was still sprawled on the cot he shared with his brother, half out of his rumpled bed sheets with his limbs splayed in all directions. His freckled face was uncharacteristically tranquil, eyes partially veiled by too-long auburn hair.

When Will awoke and saw how much snow had fallen overnight—the first big snow after several weeks of gloomy, icy rain—he was likely to shatter something with the force of his pure, unrestrained excitement.

“Can I come with you to work?” Jamie mumbled, thinking ahead to the shrieks that would be echoing off the houses and cobblestone streets for the rest of the day. In the warmer seasons, his dad travelled with a large company of labourers, building the railroad, but once winter blasted in with its frigid winds and mountains of snow, he went to work for an old friend who was a foreman in a factory on the outskirts of town.

When Dad looked down at him, a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’d rather shovel coal into a furnace all day than play in the snow or help prepare dinner?”

Jamie nodded, making his father laugh, and from the other side of the room, there was a soft sigh and sleepy moan. Cringing, Jamie glanced back at his brother to see if he’d woken up at the sound of laughter. Luckily, he still seemed fast asleep.

“I’ll do a good job,” Jamie promised, turning back to his dad. “I’m pretty strong. And I can work fast.”

With another chuckle, his dad pressed into the scrawny muscle of his upper arm. “You sure about that?” He shot his hand up to tickle the soft spot of his underarm. “You absolutely sure?”

“Dad!” Jamie bit back a fit of giggles and pulled away, still hesitant to rouse Will.

“Jamie,” said Dad in a matching tone, shaking his dark curls. “The factory’s no place for a boy your age. Stay here and have some fun.”

Imagining again the pandemonium the day would bring—screaming voices and flying snowballs and rolling, rollicking bodies and hats and scarves getting lost in the chaos—Jamie shuddered.

“If you’re not interested in fun,” Dad teased, “then stay in and help Ma with the cooking.”

Neither of Jamie’s two options were particularly desirable, but one involved louder screaming and more rough-and-tumble scuffles in the snow than the other. “All right.”

“But maybe keep an eye on him once he goes out,” Dad said, jerking his head toward Will. “Or he’ll get into some kind of mess.”

As if he’d heard and understood somehow that Dad was talking about him, Will bolted upright in bed, sending the pillow careening to the floor. “Go out where?” Even with a drowsy look on his face as he rubbed his eyes, his voice rang through the air, loud as church bells.

“Shh,” Dad said, beckoning him over. “Come look outside.”

Will scrambled off the cot and tried to dash across the room to the window, but one foot was tangled in the blanket. His limbs flailed wildly as he tried unsuccessfully to catch his balance before he tumbled over into a heap on the floor.

“Oh, Will,” said Ma, shaking her head and taking a step back as she took the pot of cider from the fire. “Be careful.”

Will cackled as he freed himself from the woollen blanket. “Oops.”

Laughing despite himself, Jamie crossed the room to help his brother to his feet. “Slow down, won’t you?”

“No, you slow down.” Will tore away and leapt into Dad’s arms. “What are we—” His words halted as he gazed through the glass and glimpsed the glistening world outside. “Ohhhh.”

As much as Jamie tried to amass his irritation, he found only the tattered dregs of it. His brother was annoying, but his awe was admittedly adorable. Will’s hazel eyes, perfect twins to Dad’s, were wide as saucers as he took in the snowy scene. “It snowed for Christmas?”

“Wasn’t that nice of me and Ma to arrange that for you?” Dad asked, gently setting his younger son back on the floor. “Will you go out and play in the snow today?”

“YES!”

The shrill affirmation pierced the air, a crack of winter thunder splitting the morning’s peace. Dad winced, and Ma spilled some of the apple cider at the sound.

“Will,” Jamie said with a sigh, “shut up. It’s only sunrise. Some folks are still sleeping.”

“I gotta tell everyone about the snow!”

Crossing the room, her mismatched stockings padding on the rough-hewn floorboards, Ma pressed the steaming cider into Dad’s grateful hands. She knelt down next to her youngest son, grasping his fluttering fingers in hers. “Will. Can you listen for a moment?”

When Will kept bouncing, seeming not to hear their mother’s question, Jamie picked up one of his brother’s abandoned socks from the floor, crushed it into a ball, and hurled it at his head.

Dad nearly spit out his cider. “James!”

Jamie shrugged. It had done the trick: Will was glaring at him, but he’d stopped fidgeting long enough to listen to Ma.

“I don’t mind if you want to go out and play in the snow today,” she said gently. “It really is beautiful outside, isn’t it? A perfect gift from Mother Nature for Christmas.”

“I know! It’s amazing!” Will began to bounce on the balls of his feet again, and Jamie scanned the floor for another sock, but Ma managed to keep his little brother’s attention with a few soft taps on his arm.

“Dad’s got to go to work.” She brushed his moppy hair from his eyes. “So he can’t go out and play with you. Jamie can, but I might need his help around here sometimes.”

Quick as lightning, she winked at Jamie as if to say, You don’t need to spend the entire day dodging snowballs.

“And if that’s the case…” She cupped his rosy cheek in her palm. “You must promise to be very careful while you’re playing with the other children. Can you promise me that, Will?”

Dad downed the rest of his cider. “Remember, William. Once you make a promise, you’re honour-bound to keep it. Right? That’s part of being a grown-up boy.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, but fortunately, neither of his parents noticed.

“Will you promise to be very safe and very kind to the other children while you’re playing in the snow today, Will?” Ma shifted her hand to comb through his sleep-mussed locks with her fingers.

A long silence met her question, hanging between mother and son before Will said with great solemnity, “Yes.”

At the graveness of his son’s tone, Dad muffled a snort of laughter and pressed his teeth into his knuckles.

“That’s my boy,” said Ma, pulling him into a hug. “Can I ask one more thing?”

Still looking serious, Will nodded.

“What d’you think about having breakfast first, before you go play?”

Will’s face broke into a wide, toothy grin. Jamie found himself smiling right along. He knew what his little brother was about to say.

“YES!”

Tagging: @gala1981 - if you’re not into Christmas you can totally skip this! (Sorry again starlit! I’ll remember next time. I was wayyyy too excited to post this on actual Christmas.)

#lps the prince of thieves #oc will wardrew #oc jamie wardrew #christmas #christmas story #this one totally doesn't count as whump #flashback #wardrew babies #lps-writes #lps-christmas

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sushiosims · 9 months

Text

Billy and Morgan - Chapter 3

Before long, his dad stumbles through, glaring at Billy. 'Where you been? Late again?' he mutters, throwing himself down into a chair

'I got dinner at a friends' Billy says, getting ready for another argument. He hates arguments. Why is everyone just coming for him just now?

'How nice for you, did you think of your old man, waiting at home, worried, going hungry. There is no food, the lights aren't working...I had to stay in bed all day just to keep warm' Dan moans

'Oh poor you' Billy mocks, 'Must have been hard for you lying on your ribs, doing nothing all day'

'And the lights and heating don't work as you have not paid the bill' Billy reminds him tersely, his anger bubbling up

'Are you answering me back!?' Dan roars 'The lack of respect from you...if you want the power back on, go out and get a job, earn your keep! You have been carried too long!'

Billy feels the fight go out of him, and he just nods, 'Yeah Dad' and he heads down to his room

He lies on his bed, listening to music and thinking of the last couple of days. He thinks of Morgan's house again, and feels himself recoil in shame. Imagining his home through her eyes. He had to stop thinking about her

But he remembers the sadness in her eyes...and that jolt of...something. It was like a bolt of lightening, took his breath away and made him dizzy. He had never felt a connection like that before, and he knew she felt it too

He wonders if she is thinking about him too...

He is getting up to get ready for bed, when his phone vibrates...he checks it and smiles 'Looks like she is thinking of me after all' he thinks to himself, as he sees the friend request from Morgan on SimChat. He quickly accepts, and sees her typing straight away

She sends him a picture of a starry sky with the caption

Morgan- 'Guess where I am?'

He smiles, recognising the coastline and the clear skies 'The Bluffs' he says to himself, starting to get up, and pulling on his boots

Billy reaches the Bluffs, and this time finds Morgan lying on the snow, letting the flakes land on her, and melt into her skin. She looked beautiful.

'Is it creepy and stalker-ish that I came?' he asks

She smiles 'Is it bad that I don't care?' She stands up, and they head to the swing set

'So what's up?' Billy asks lightly, feeling a nervous tension emenate from her

'Nothing, its just, well, be careful with Bruce, he has a temper, and is not used to people standing up to him, or disrespecting him. He is pretty powerful here, I don't want you getting into trouble'

Billy laughs and starts to swing back 'I have dealt with bigger and badder bullies than Patman' he says 'Don't worry about me'

She looks at him, smiling in spite of herself at his optimism and devil may care spirit. She had never met anyone like Billy before. 'Just be careful, he's spiteful, and once he decides to ruin someone, it's pretty much a done deal' she warns him

He is touched by the genuine concern on her face, and smiles to reassure her 'What can he take from me? I have nothing' he says simply Morgan feels her heart ache for him. Its not fair, how she and Bruce have so much, and there are people like Billy, who just never stood a chance

They head over to the seating area, and Billy teases 'So why did you want me here? I thought this was where you came from your quiet time?' he asks her 'Just to warn me about Big Bad Bruce? Do you want me to leave now?'

'Please, don't' she says quickly 'I like my quiet time, but I think I would like to spend my quiet time with you if that's ok?'

'That's fine by me' Billy replies. The two of them settle into a comfortable silence When she is disturbed by her phone, he feels the tension from her again, and decides to try and distract her 'Hey' he says 'Do you know much about stars?'

She shakes her head 'Erm no'

'Do you want to learn a bit?' he asks

'You know space stuff?' she asks, laughing

'Yeah, I know space stuff' he smiles, and the two of them go lie in the snow, and for a while, they look up in silence. Taking in the vast expanse of sky above them

He pulls her to her feet and leads her to the clearing 'Lets start off easy. That is the Big Dipper, consisting of seven bright stars of Ursa Major, the constellation of Ursa Major is seen as a bear, see it? Once you find the Big Dipper, you can navigate the skies more easily'

He tries to act casual as she links his arm through his and starts searching the skies, suddenly she shouts in excitement

'Oh I see it! Is that it there? Where those three bright stars are in a line?'

Billy nods, glad she looks like she is enjoying herself 'That's right!'

'Look!' There was a shooting star, did you see it? Did you?' her eyes shining with excitement

'Yeah I seen it, did you make a wish?' he asked quietly

She catches his eye, and looks down, 'Yeah, I did'

He nudges her, 'Well, what did you wish?'

'Can't say, won't come true'

She shivers and he gestures to her, 'Can I?' he asks, before putting his arm around her, pulling her closer, she nods, and slips her arm around his waist Billy feels his knees go weak, tries to stay cool as he continues to point out constellations and tell stories about each one

They sit for another hour, sometimes chatting, but mostly silent, watching the sky, making wishes on shooting stars, and marvelling at the expanse of the universe

'You know, you're really, really smart, I don't think I have met anyone as smart as you before' Morgan says suddenly

'Thank you, I read a lot. My dad...well he wasn't around and I used to just be left alone most days, I spent a lot of time hanging around libraries, they were warm, and the ladies that worked there usually looked after me, even got me lunch!' Again, Morgan's heart broke

He jumps up, seeing the sympathy on her face, he did not want her to feel sorry for him.

'Come on, its after 1am, your parents will be freaking out' he said, pulling her to her feet

'Shit how did it get so late!' she laughs 'Thank you, its been a lovely night' she adds, shyly

As she got to her feet, the two are standing facing each other, their cold breaths mingling in the frigid air. They are silent, the air electric. All it would take would be one step forward, but instead, she takes one step back.

'Bye Billy' and heads off towards the treeline

Morgan gets home at almost 2am, she tries to sneak in the door, but hears her mum thunder down the stairs. 'What time do you call this Morgan? I have been calling you all night! I thought someone had kidnapped you! Do you have any idea how worried we have been?!'

'Mum, I am almost 18, please, give me some space' Morgan groans 'I'm fine, no-one kidnapped me, I was just at the bluffs watching the stars, stop treating me like a child!'

'You are a child! You are my child, and while you are under my roof, you will abide by my rules! You know you have to be in for 10.30! If you get in trouble, you know what that means for me? My reputation, ruined! It will be in all the tabloids! Stay out of trouble young lady!'

'The tabloids? Its the Windenburg Gazette! Get over yourself mother, and why is it about you and your reputation all the time?' Morgan bites back 'What about my life?'

Moira covers her daughters mouth 'I am stopping you before you say anything you regret, my house, my rules, and if you want your trust fund, then you will live by them, got it?'

'And who were you with? I know it wasn't Bruce, he has been calling all night!' 'I was with friends mum! I am allowed to have friends other than Bruce!' Moira scoffs, 'You are lucky to have that boy Morgan...his father is very important you know!' Morgan rolls her eyes

'Very rich you mean' Morgan mutters 'RIGHT! THATS IT!' Moira shouts, 'I am not taking this from you! Get upstairs to your room I don't want to look at you. You are grounded!' 'Mum! You cant ground me! I'm 17!' 'I don't care, you will not leave this house unless its for school'

For Chapter 4 clicky clicky right...HERE

#sims #the sims 4 #sims4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 #the sims #showusyoursims #simsstories #sims story #sims stuff #story simblr #BillyandMorgan

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her-devils-advocate · 2 years

Text

Goodbye [Bad ending unlocked]

♥. Genre: angst and some comfort

♥. pairings: None

♥.characters: F!Mc (named), the brothers (mentioned), Diavolo, Barbatos

♥. content warnings: Suicide, descriptions of a past eating disorder, Lesson 16 spoilers mentioned

♥. notes: a big part of this fic is a note, please read the warnings // I'm using my personal Mc for this as I enjoy exploring the different endings she could encounter while using Barb's powers. While not 'canon' to my own Mc's timeline, they are fun to write and explore.

Her name and gender is only written a few small times near the end, its more focused on the situation itself and less on the mc, but it is still mentioned a few times.

♥. Word count: 2124

A faint dripping can be heard from within the bathroom as water continues to flow over the edge of the cracked porcelain bathtub, spilling down onto the grey tiles below, the dull floor becoming harder to see through the murky water pooling within the room.

A gentle mist which once clouded the room, leaving behind a lingering warmth in the air, had long since vanished, leaving a thin sheen of water painting the counters and walls as the dripping refuses to cease. Rusted pipes jut out from the walls above while the paint around them flake and peel as a metallic scent floods the air. The inside had needed, deserved, a long overdue maintenance but instead had been left to worsen and decay.

The remaining candle balancing delicately upon the edge of the bathtub does nothing to banish the dull greyscale colours which paints a depressive atmosphere throughout the room, the amber glow being overwhelmed by the absence of colour within as the dripping continues.

The stained murky red water drips endlessly onto the tiles below as the now still body forces the water over the ledge as it continues to sink deeper and deeper, her long black hair floats gently within the water, flowing like ink within the red depths, obscuring the person deep within.

The last reminder of a life once lived, paired with one final note, written with patience and a steady hand, laid carefully upon the folded towels to be protected from the water.

“To the brothers I love dearly, I’m sorry.

I couldn’t do this anymore, it hurt way too much. The constant feeling of hopelessness followed by the constant feeling of emptiness was overwhelming. What small moments of light I held were always washed away by this horrible feeling to just throw it all away because I “didn’t deserve it” or whatever. Which I know is incorrect but it's hard to ignore that voice deep inside when it's constantly screaming at me!

I know I should have reached out for help or spoken with a professional about it…I know, but I just didn’t and I have no excuse for not doing so. It might have been fear about what they would have said, about what I would have had to say or fear when it comes to what went so wrong inside my mind.

Speaking with a professional aside, I didn’t want to burden any of you even more than I have done in the past. You have all done so much for me in your own, individual ways and I'm just…me. I’ve tried so hard to think of ways where I could possibly repay you all for your time, care and generosity, but how do you repay someone for saving your life so many times when they aren’t even aware they are doing it? I know what you might be thinking…”just staying alive would be enough” and I’m so sorry but I am too far lost.

Regardless of whatever reasons I had about not reaching out, I’ve made my mind up now.

I’m sorry if this brings up unpleasant memories, you have all experienced a painful loss once before and not to mention seeing my death already, even if it was undone. I really am sorry for that, I got what most Humans would dream to have: a second chance at life. Yet here I am throwing it away…

I just hope you will be able to forgive me one day for doing this and if you can’t forgive me, I just beg you all to not despise me, not forever.

To Lucifer:

Thank you for everything. I don’t know how to start your section as I have so much to say, so I'll just dive in. Thank you for taking me under your wing alongside your brothers. I know we didn’t always get along when I first arrived here but a small part of me is glad for that. Would we be as close as we are if we didn’t have that understanding which was born from those little conflicts? Maybe we would, maybe we wouldn’t. But either way, thank you for caring for me as if I was family…actually, no…thank you for making me a member of your family.

Speaking of family, let your brothers in, they will need you and you will need them…so please, let them in from this point onwards.

Thank you for loving me.

To Mammon:

Mams, please believe me when I say I really am sorry for this. You were the first person I met who cared for me, even if it was only out of duty and a tiny bit of fear at the start. You were the one who held me when I first… I’m sorry for putting you all through that all over again, you all deserve better.

Thank you for being yourself, the way you wear your heart on your sleeve and then try so hard to pretend that you don’t, the way you never hesitated to make sure I was alright despite trying to not make it obvious. Thank you for all the goofy jokes and stories that you told me in order to try and cheer me up during the bad days, they worked, even just for a day.

Thank you for loving me.

To leviathan:

Levi, my sweet and shy Levi…I want to start your section by simply saying this: this wasn’t your fault, there was nothing you nor your brothers could have done to prevent this. I know your self-conscious thoughts will go into overdrive and it breaks my heart to know that, but no sweet words could have changed my mind this time, not anymore.

Thank you for all the comfort you provided me during my time in your lives, all the nights spent losing to you while we were gaming. Or all those nights spent crying over an overly sweet anime rather than crying over my own thoughts instead, you really helped me in those moments. You helped me a lot more than I know you give yourself credit for.

Thank you for loving me.

To Satan:

You will be angry, no, you will be furious at me for doing this and I understand that, I think I would be angry if our positions were reversed. I wish I could find the words to write that would help calm the rage you must feel while reading this…assuming the letter hasn’t been torn or burnt already!

Thank you, Satan. Thank you for all those self-help books you let me borrow, you might be thinking “well they didn’t help much, did they?” Or something similar but they did help, just a little. They helped me make the days bearable, it was just the nights that tormented me too much. Thank you for helping me with cat videos during those especially rough nights, it was the small things in life which made me smile.

Thank you for loving me.

To Asmodeus:

Thank you for teaching me to be neutral about myself. I always wished that I could have even a small fraction of your confidence and self love until the day you took me into your room, in front of your beautifully ornate mirror and explained to me that I should start with the smaller steps and instead of jumping straight to love, I first learn how to be neutral. I tried really hard to be neutral and for a while, it worked but the dark, ugly thoughts returned stronger and hit harder and I'm tired, Asmo. I'm so sorry.

Thank you for loving me.

To Beelzebub:

Beel, my gentle giant of a demon brother, I know this will hit you all hard and I am truly sorry for the pain that I’m about to bring upon you and your brothers. I wish things could be different but it was just too much, I lost my will to keep fighting. I want to say thank you for helping me to mend my relationship with food. Gluttony had always been the sin I indulged in the least, way before I met you all, which you are aware of.

Thank you for teaching me that food isn’t the enemy and that eating is a good thing and that it can be enjoyable again.

Thank you for loving me.

To Belphegor:

I know where your thoughts will be instantly dragged to, this wasn’t your fault. Not now and not because of what happened in the past either. My actions now have no reflection on what happened previously, this is something I have settled on myself. I forgive you for your actions in the past, I just hope that one day you will be able to forgive yourself as well.

Thank you for helping me sleep during the nights where my mind was too frantic to let me rest.

Thank you for loving me.

To you all, once more:

You are my family and it hurts knowing that I now need to say goodbye, please don’t forget me and please don’t hate me, even if it's selfish of me to ask that of you all. Please trust me when I say with full honesty that being a part of your lives made me happy. Your shenanigans never failed to make me laugh or to fill my heart with love for you all.

I love you all so much, goodbye.

Your Evelyne. “

Two imposing figures stand together within the grim room, taking in the sight laid before them, dread clawing at their hearts as pristine white gloves delicately place the letter down upon the bathroom counter, now soaked from the condensation, causing the ink to blur into messy splotches upon the paper. Neither of them dare to break the suffocating silence within the room, the consistent dripping being the only sound brave enough to echo around them, almost as if it were mocking them.

A faint emerald glow, shimmering from the doorway, illuminates the scene before them, revealing more than the lone candle ever could.

Revealing more than they wanted.

The taller man, draped within a royal red which was quickly being tainted by the darker, now brownish-red below, clears his throat, trying to remove the emotions wrapping themselves around it, trying to silence him as the sight before him burns into his memory.

“...Barbatos?” “Yes, my Lord?” “Erase this timeline and any similar ones that will occur, they have all suffered enough. Don’t let this outcome occur again and do not let the brothers ever find out about this possibility, understood?”

With that said, he turns to leave the bathroom, pausing to give one final, heartbroken glance towards his now lost friend, before finally leaving Barbatos alone within the room.

Barbatos lets out a small sigh before demonic magic begins to course throughout the room, the emerald green flooding in, giving the room a more sickly appearance before the interior begins to flake away, the pieces flow around him gently before fizzling out of existence, leaving nothing behind but a blinding white void.

He finds himself alone within the white abyss, leaving the bathtub to be removed last as he begins to take slow steps towards it before all of his composure vanishes, along with the body hidden within.

Falling to his knees while blinking rapidly, Barbatos mourns.

For the second time in no longer than a year or two, he mourns for a human who had managed to worm herself deep into his chest, a human who he had come to care for and treasure. A human who he was proud to call a close companion and a dear friend. A human who he knew he would greet with a smile in no longer than a few minutes.

“I’m sorry, when I get back to our timeline, let me bake your favourite treat for you.”

The green portal within the doorway shines brighter as Barbatos slowly begins to move towards it, his body feeling like lead with each step.

Faint, gentle laughter, her laughter could be heard from the other side as he watches the warped reflection of the brothers rush into the castle with Evelyne and Lucifer trailing not too far behind, hand in hand, no doubt being lured out with the promise of delicious food and company provided by the prince and his butler for the night.

Wiping his face, Barbatos composes himself, carefully placing on his mask of polite stoicism before walking through the door to greet their expected guests.

They would never know the true reason for such a sudden invitation to all dine with one another that night, it would break them all. It would break them more than it did the first time it happened.

#♥. writing #♥. Evelyne #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me f!mc #obey me fanfic #obey me fic #obey me angst #obey me one master to rule them all

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yasmin-writes · 1 year

Text

I’ve been wanting to write lately, a lot, but I never know what to say. I haven’t been able to still myself - in place or in thought - to even begin to let the words slowly seep out of my fingers. It’s only now, after a silly thing has happened that I can feel the letters piece themselves together and leave my head.

I was sitting in a corner of my room where I usually do my makeup and hair every morning. It’s just a wall with a full-length mirror hung up, where I’ve dropped a big floor cushion in front of it - like a makeshift, floor-level dressing table. Behind me is a clothes rack where my coats and long dresses have created a sort of partition from the rest of the room; I can’t see anything past it, and no one can see me in my corner when they enter my room. It was here, my little enclave, where I was sitting and reading through my texts, a flask of hot tea on the floor in front of me. I had to take the lid off the flask to cool the still-steaming tea and, while waiting, my cat walked over to see what business I was attending to. She does this cute thing; she’ll walk over, look you in the eye and then drop to the floor to roll around, arms outstretched and fluffy belly in full view, ready to be cuddled. She comes over now, to me in my nook, to do the same. A look of love, and then she hurls herself to the carpeted floor, knocking over my open flask of tea. She jumps up, I yell, both in surprise while the deep red of vanilla rooibos tea stains my grey carpet. And then I laugh. And I kept laughing, even while cleaning it up and cuddling my cat to calm her down. I’d sputter into quick chuckles while I went downstairs to the kitchen, startled cat in hand, to turn the kettle on and refill the flask. I laughed again when I had taken a pair of teabags out of the box, pinched them with two grips and torn at the wrong end, leaving one intact and the other torn - flakes of rooibos fly in the air and onto my kitchen floor. I laugh again while I get the vacuum and clean up the mess. It doesn’t sound that funny, but it was.

It’s usually the kind of thing I’d get angry about. The hot tea would spill all over the carpet and I’d yell and curse in frustration while I hurriedly cleaned it up, like someone was screaming at me to do it or I was worried someone would walk in, see the mess, and call me an idiot for letting it happen. I’d probably have yelled at the cat too, who has no sense of what it means that the tea has spilt and no reasoning for my anger. She’d just know I was mad and to stay away. I’d curse myself, my family, and the universe for making my life this way and throttle down the stairs to make another cup. If I tore the teabag and saw the leaves hit the kitchen floor, I’d take a second to not scream in anger and then vacuum aggressively, hitting every corner I could just to get the bad feelings out.

But I didn’t! After the laughter, I could only feel a little surprise that I hadn’t lashed out. I hadn’t sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the wall in muted rage while I got myself together to go back upstairs. I just laughed. A real, genuine, laugh. It was just a stupid thing that happened, much like the other stupid, clumsy things I do. In only a moment, it made sense. It felt right to laugh, than get angry, because I haven’t been so angry lately. And I have been (trying to) laugh a lot more. That’s not to say I haven’t felt anything other than innocent joy in the last few months, but the anger is like the little white cat hairs that live on my clothes - always fucking there, always threatening to make a bigger mess.

In place of the anger, I’ve felt a lot more yearning lately. Yearning is a strange thing to feel, let alone write about. It’s not sad, or happy. It is its own special kind of pull on your Self, that little nudge towards the things you don’t have yet, or the things you have and want more of. It stops you right in those moments of pure Feeling: replaying your old favourite song just so you can focus your ears on the bassline; telling a joke and watching your friend’s face twitch into a smile or cringe just as the punchline hits their ears; taking that bite of a food you didn’t know you’d like so much but now you have to try every version of it you can get your hands on; the little squeeze you exchange in a long hug goodbye; spotting the near-end of a rainbow in a blanket of grey clouds; coming home to hear your cat tumble down the stairs in desperation, all for a hug (and food); hitting send on the ‘i miss you! let’s catch up soon!’ text; waking up and not feeling like you want to hide away from the world, for once. This yearning reminds you how much you love your life, but it also shows you what you’re missing. What you’re yet to love.

It’s this thing, this yearning, I’ve had so much trouble with writing about. I think it might be because I attach my writing to my solitude so, so much. I write about it, I write when I’m craving it, I write when I’m happily in it. But I haven’t been wanting solitude so much lately. I miss being around people I love. I’ve been missing everyone individually and altogether. I have spent a little extra time and sent a few more messages than usual because I don’t want to say goodbye and go home to a quiet room anymore. And, of course, in the cruellest of fates, I have been more alone in the last few years than I have my entire adult life so far. Is this why people worry about getting older?

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cornflakegetmilking · 11 months

Text

Bittersweet Cravings

Warning: this fic contains possesion, alot of killing, oh also some saucy moments

Sauce Warning - Sauceless

Chapter 5: A New House

"Damn so a shapeshifter huh? I would have never guessed with your human disguise!" Frank looked at their new features in awe as they stood outside by the doorframe waiting for Jack to call on Flakes for their ride home.

Flakes sighed and shrugged.

"Yeah well apparently to Jack i was obvious even with my disguise! And now here i am stuck with him... at least im not dead..." They chuckled bit.

"Yeah but now your dream on being with mister big man is finally coming true!" He laughed at his own joke as Flakes laughed along.

"Yeah but i didn't mean it like this!" They pulled on their collar trying to give Frank a proper view on it.

"Dang... it looks expensive!" He looked closesly, taking in the details.

"Well that's cause it is! He even bragged on and on about how its all purple and shit how the silver stuff is real silver and yada yada!" They laughed a bit as they ended up admiring the collar themselves.

"Well purple is hard to get to..." Frank added as he also admired the collar. "It's a nice shade too!"

"I hate to admit it but yes it is kinda nice... doesn't change my opinion on the whole living trophy bizz tho..." They sighed and looked up, seeing Jack was still waiting on his carriage so they had time to talk still. "However I hate to admit that the idea of being his is intriguing me... I'm not sure if it's really me or if it's my animal genetics talking but something about him keeps pulling me in closer... kinda like a blackhole but instead of trying to get away from it i just let it pull me closer..."

"Have you always been this cheesy?" Frank laughed and received a playful punch on the shoulder.

"I'm having a moment here!" Flakes rolled their eyes as they giggled a bit.

"Flakes!" Jack called, grabbing their attention.

A black carriage was behind him that was being pulled by what looked like colorful horses. He was eyeing them as a signal to follow him.

"I have to go... see ya tomorrow Frank..." They smiled bitterly and walked off to hop into the carriage quickly, not wanting to get him impatient. Jack gave frank a deadly glare before following in as well, with that the carriage takes off.

"The hell did i do?" Frank asked confused as he noticed how Jack looked at him.

As Flakes sat in the carriage quietly they couldn't help but be bothered by the loud silence. And being in a rather thight and closed space with Jack it wasn't helping with their disturbance. They wanted to talk but knowing him, he probably didn't want them to be a chatter box the whole way through the ride.

"We're not too far..." Jack finally spoke up as he noticed Flakes' expressions as he could read them well.

They only nodded and sighed in releif hearing that the journey wasn't going to take too long as they tapped their fingers on their arm waiting. Jack rose a brow and let out a bored groan.

"At a time i want you to be chatty you're now awfully quiet..." He glared down at them.

"Oh... Sorry i honestly didn't think you'd even wanna hear me talk..." They rubbed their arms a bit anxiously.

"Well normally yes but at an awfully quiet place like this it gets incredibly boring! So a bit of sound is appreciated..." He laughed as he looked around the close space.

"A-aren't their magical items that make music?" They stopped rubbing their arms as if they genuinely wanted to focus on their discussion... in which they did.

"Yes but I don't like the idea of having any of my collections in different places other than the trophy room and my mansion. Ever since i decided to be careless of my belongings when i went to find the last wishing star and then lost just about all my magical artifacts i decided to be a bit more careful about them from then on. Haha! Can you believe that though? Me? Being careful? Hahaha!" He let out a loud laughter.

Flakes blushed watching him so, it was almost cute seeing him like this and so close. Jack sighed as he wiped the tear out his eye before looking back at flakes.

"But that being said, with you by my side for now on i hope you can cure my boredom whenever i need you to entertain me!" He smirked.

"I'll do my best Mr. Horner sir." They nodded obediently.

Jack then pouted and placed his finger onto his chin.

"What's wrong? Did i say something bad?" Their ears flopped not wanting to dissapoint him.

"Well now that you're my trophy I don't like it when you call me that..." He tapped his finger as he kept thinking.

"W-what? Mr. Horner?" They tilted their head confused. "But i always call you that..."

"Yes but now it doesn't suit you... For now on just call me Jack! It will make you look less awkward and make you more intimidating to others!" He smiled as he booped their nose.

"I-im sorry but h-how would me calling you Jack make me more intimidating?" They asked.

"Well it will show your place with me! People will understand that you're more than just a magical entity i captured! You're like uhh..." He thought for a second before finding the word he was looking for. "My personal assistant!"

Flakes wanted to say something but shrugged, it didn't sound too bad anyways. Finally the carriage stops and the door was opened for them by their rider. Flakes decided to wait and let Jack go out first as they didn't wanna disrespect him. As soon as he got out they followed him and took a look at their surroundings, their jaw dropped in awe as the massive gate was enough to stun them. The gate was painted black and had the symbol J.H. on the top middle part, this man really was full of himself wasn't he...

"Are you coming in or are you gonna let yourself freeze to death outside?"

Flakes was so distracted by a simple gate's decor that they didn't even realize he had already opened them. They perked and ran forward to catch up to him. As they went in their eyes sparkled as they looked around in fascination, all the open space, the hedges and plants, however no flowers but that didnt seem to be a surprise to them since Jack didn't seem that kind of person anyways. The path way they walked on seemed to be made of gold making them tilt their head in the familiarity of the texture.

"Is this?" They looked up at Jack who seemed to be grinning in pride of his riches and his belongings.

"Yes it is in fact the golden path that leads you all the way to the emerald city! I had some men hired to dig up pieces of the pathway for myself to keep! They can't be the only ones to have such a pretty road afterall!" He seemed really proud of this, if egos had a physical form it would be all over his face by now.

Flakes nodded as they looked down one more time before looking around again as they couldn't help but be amazed. The more they looked the more things they saw that made them awe. Jack watched their facial expressions as they kept looking and he couldn't help himself but smile a bit. It wasn't long til they were finally in front of the large mansion doors, Flakes' ears rose in anticipation while Jack took his keys to unlock and open them. Once again Flakes decided to wait for Jack to go in first, only this time Jack stood aside as he held the door open as if insisting them to go in first. Flakes' ears twitched in excitement as they didn't hesitate and ran in to look around their new environment. They walked over to one thing after the other but didn't touch anything. Jack was still watching them as they took pride on their fascination. It was like watching a puppy who was brought home for the first time in years.

"So are all you shapeshifters this curious and easily impressed?" He chuckled.

Flakes blushed but laughed in embarrassment as they shook their head and walked back to them.

"N-not sure really. I don't normally leave my house for my own safety so this is all pretty new to me." They smiled and looked at him as their eyes still glimmered in excitement.

What stupid eyes Jack thought before he chuckled and patted their back.

"Go ahead and look around just try not to break anything." He started walking off only for Flakes to follow for a bit.

"Wait but i thought the collar would choke me if i was too far from you?" They whimpered in fear, remembering the first time it choked them.

"Don't worry as i said i have control of your distance, and right now you have a pretty range from me just don't go out the gates." He looked back at them before walking again. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Flakes nodded as their ears twitched rapidly and started running around the mansion as if they were in zoomies. With how excited they were they practically just opened each door, stating what the room was and closed them immediately.

"Bathroom! Woah a library?! Oh more magical artifacts! Oh! Uh..." They paused looking in the room seeing a massive man eating plant. "... im gonna pretend you dont exist!"

They slowly closed the door and continued to run off from door to door. The place was huge, they were able to see other rooms that not all houses had, they were also able to startle a few servants and maids who lived in the mansion...

Finally they decided to go outside and admire the garden. It seemed as this was their favorite area as they took their time here and took in every detail. They were a bit disappointed about the fact there were no flowers or at least they thought there were no flowers, because after a while of looking around they found a small bud hidden behind a few bushes.

"Oh! Well hello there little bud!" Their ears rose as they hopped behind the bushes to sit down next to the baby flower.

Their ears twitched as they nuzzled the bud gently and gave it a sniff. It had no scent yet which was no surprise since it was still little but it didn't matter. They were just happy to see a flower as it reminded them of their old home out in the forest. Their ears then dropped as they let out a sigh and looked up only now realizing their situation after the thought of home, they got so excited with their new environment they almost forgot they were stuck with Jack. They closed their eyes and tried to transform into a different creature only to fail and get tiredm, they frowned seeing it really was no joke that jack had control of their magic. They looked up once again before taking a deep breathe and getting up to find Jack. It was best they didn't think much of it.

It wasn't hard looking for him as they already have seen the kitchen, they just didn't decide to bother him before. They tilted their head as they walked closer only now realizing he was doing the cooking.

"You do the cooking?" They asked a bit surprised.

"What never seen a big man like me cook?" Jack looked at them and chuckled.

Flakes looked at them up and down seeing he had removed his coat and pulled up his sleeves, Gods did he look good though, they thought before shaking their head to focus.

"No it's not that. I just thought you would be having someone else do it for you since you're uhh... you know... filthy rich?" They looked down at the table looking at the ingredients before them.

Jack laughed at their reply as he put his knife away to face Flakes properly. They only tilted their head waiting for a response.

"Well i would but i honestly don't like other people's cooking! I like my own yknow? Besides if i hire someone to do it for me i also risk someone poisoning me!" He chuckled and went back to chopping his ingredients.

Flakes nodded and watched for a bit.

"Do you need help?" They asked with a smile.

"Oh uhh sure?" He seemed a bit surprised at first but still commanded them without looking away from their work. "Can you get me a pan?"

Flakes smiled more, nodding and went to look for a pan, luckily it wasn't hard to find as it was just on a hanging rack. They managed to grab it but flinched to a sudden sound.

"Ahh!"

They looked at Jack worriedly and saw he had accidentally cut himself with his knife, making their ears flop.

"Crap! Are you okay?" They set the pan aside before running back to jack to check his cut.

"Bah! Im fine its just a cut!" He winced as his palm bled from trying to peel a potato only for it to slip out his hand, he let out a chuckle to hide away the pain he was feeling. "Its been a while i accidentally cut myself like this h-haha!"

Flakes frowned and took his hand gently making Jack look at them confused.

"It's a pretty bad cut tho..." They whimpered looking up at him before pulling him to a sink.

"What the hell are you doing?" He groaned as he followed anyways.

Flakes just looked at him and at the wound as they gently pulled it to the sink and turned on the tap.

"You should clean the wound at least... but I'll get you a bandage just in case!" They gave a soft smile as then ran out the room to find a bandage.

Jack looked at the door where they left. Confusion filling him.

"Im sorry what?!"

To Be Continued

#jack horner #jack horner x oc

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lys1 · 3 years

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Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words.

Playing With Potions

—————

The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."

#the arcana game #asra alnazar #the arcana #asra lemon #asra smut #asra x reader #asra x female reader #writing #fanfic #arcana smut #arcana #arcana fanfic #asra fanfic

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