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luna-archives · 5 days ago

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Men (like ratio, caelus, Aventurine, and let's add brant, jiyan and harumasa frm other Fandom XP) lincluding reader in their exercises in a teasing manner (like the kiss for every sit ups, push up or planks or any other exercises)

Like either they're underneath them during the exercise or on top of them, being impressed by their strength (or they've done it so many times already s/o is just reading a book as he does his stuff)

-🍭

One Kiss Per Rep

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Caelus x Reader, Jiyan x Reader, Brant x Reader, Harumasa x Reader, Fluff, Romance, Domestic Moments, Established Relationship, Soft Moment, Motivational Kisses, Workout Shenanigans, Training as Foreplay, Banter, Humor, Affection as Reward, Whipped Characters, Teasing, Lighthearted, Emotional Support Through Exercise, Playful Intimacy.

Warnings: Mild Innuendo, Physical Contact (Kissing), Suggestive Humor, Intense Affection, Cheeky Banter.

You were lying on the lounge chair in the observatory of your shared ship, reading a thick tome on metaphysical logic. Ratio, however, had long abandoned traditional study this afternoon in favor of what he called a “physical calibration ritual.”

You didn't expect that to involve you lying on the floor with him looming above you, arms extended in a perfect push-up form.

"That was twenty-three," he said smoothly, a smirk playing on his lips. "And, as promised..."

He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

You blinked, speechless—again.

"Twenty-four." Push-up. Kiss.

"Veritas—" you started, only to be silenced by another kiss on the twenty-fifth rep.

"I find this method more efficient than chemical stimulants for motivation," he mused.

You sighed, tilting your head. "And what, exactly, am I? A glorified dumbbell?"

"No," he replied with mock seriousness. "You’re a reward system. Perfectly engineered to trigger oxytocin release and reinforce success. Efficient. Elegant. Undeniably enticing."

He paused at push-up thirty, locking eyes with you. "I’d do a hundred more if it meant one more kiss from you."

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You’re lucky I’m too intrigued to walk away.”

"Correction," he said, kissing you again. "I'm lucky you never do."

Aventurine was doing planks.

Not just any planks—one-armed planks on a polished marble floor, his torso gleaming faintly with sweat, and you, stretched languidly across his back like the most luxurious weighted blanket known to man.

"Keep still, sweetheart," he said through gritted teeth, flashing that signature grin. “You wobble and I fold. And if I collapse, you owe me dinner.”

“Pretty sure this counts as your punishment for bluffing about taking me on a ‘relaxing evening,’” you deadpanned, flipping the page of your book.

“Darling, you sitting on my back while I do core work is the definition of romance. Why else would I be showing off like this?”

You rolled your eyes. “What are we at now?”

“Sixty seconds… and counting.” He grunted, then added in a singsong tone: “Unless you want to make this harder for me.”

“Harder how?”

He smirked. “Slide a little forward.”

You gave a dangerous grin. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But I’m charming, strong, and balancing a whole library on my back. I’d say I’m worth the gamble.”

You shook your head, trying not to smile. “I’m not budging. I like this book.”

“Oh good. I like it when you're on top.”

You dropped your book on his head.

He didn’t even flinch.

The training deck of the Astral Express was quiet—save for the soft thuds of Caelus’s push-ups and your occasional page-turning.

You were seated cross-legged on a bench nearby, book open in your lap. He was on the floor beside you, bare arms flexing with every descent.

At first, you thought he was just working out. Until he shifted.

Now he was doing push-ups directly above you.

With you lying beneath him.

You stared up, stunned as he leaned down and—kiss.

“One,” he whispered, lips brushing yours.

Another push-up. Another kiss.

“Caelus,” you breathed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious,” he replied, grinning between reps. “One push-up, one promise.”

“And what promise is that?”

He lowered again, slower this time. Kiss.

“That I’ll keep choosing you. Every day. Every mission. No matter how heavy things get.”

You reached up, hand resting on his cheek.

“Even when the world’s falling apart?”

Push-up. Kiss.

“Especially then.”

You laughed softly, heart melting as he kept going, counting quietly, his voice like a steady rhythm.

Somewhere around push-up twenty, you stopped him by holding his face in your hands and kissed him.

“One kiss, one promise,” you whispered. “That I’ll never let you carry it all alone.”

He stilled.

Then smiled.

“Deal.”

The deck of the ship swayed beneath your feet, but Brant’s rhythm remained flawless. You were lying flat on your back on the wooden floor, book in hand, while your flamboyant captain (or boyfriend) hovered above you—literally—doing push-ups.

With every dip, he grinned, his face mere inches from yours.

“Thirty-four… Thirty-five… Mwah~” he whispered, punctuating each push-up with a dramatic kiss to your forehead, nose, cheek—once even the tip of your ear, which had you flinching and nearly dropping your book.

You didn’t react much at first, pretending to be deeply invested in the page before you, but your smile betrayed you.

“You know,” you murmured, without looking up, “some people train without turning it into a stage performance.”

“Darling,” Brant purred, pausing at the peak of another push-up, “every heartbeat is a drumroll. Every drop of sweat, a crescendo. And every time I kiss you like this—” he dipped again, planting another kiss, this time on your lips, “—the audience goes wild.”

You laughed softly, cheeks warm.

“I think the ‘audience’ went home hours ago.”

“Then all the better,” he said with a wink, dropping to his elbows beside you. “This scene’s exclusive. One night only. No understudies allowed.”

Jiyan didn’t believe in unnecessary distractions—except, apparently, when it came to you.

You sat cross-legged with a cup of tea, quietly watching as he performed sit-ups with mechanical precision. Every time he came up, he stopped just short of your face, eyes steady on yours.

And every time, you offered a quick kiss.

“Fifty-eight…”

Kiss.

“Fifty-nine…”

Kiss.

“Sixty…”

You paused. “Aren’t you getting tired?”

“No.”

His tone was calm, almost too calm. You narrowed your eyes.

“You’re only doing this so I’ll keep kissing you, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer immediately—just came up for another rep, forehead nearly touching yours. You sighed, leaned in, and kissed him again.

“I knew it.”

“Incorrect,” he replied with that ever-serious expression. “I’m building endurance. You’re simply… an efficient motivator.”

Despite yourself, you smiled.

“You’re impossible.”

“Then keep testing my limits.” He smirked—yes, smirked—before resuming his sit-ups.

You were lying across the couch, engrossed in a paperback, while Harumasa planked directly above you.

Not beside you. Not in front of you.

Above you.

You are gonna use his back as a headrest laterwards.

“Still alive?” you asked without glancing up from your book.

“Wouldn’t die doing this,” he muttered, holding perfectly still, only the occasional twitch of his arms betraying any effort. “Not when I’ve got the world’s comfiest couch under me.”

“That ‘couch’ has opinions.”

“Shhh. Pillows don’t talk.”

You snorted, nudging his ribs lightly with your elbow. “You’ve been at it for five minutes. Impressive. I’m surprised you haven’t turned into a puddle yet.”

“I would,” he said, face dangerously close to yours as he shifted an inch lower, “but I figured the reward was worth it.”

“Reward?”

He tilted his head until your lips were almost touching. “A kiss per minute, wasn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not how this works.”

“Then I’m quitting.”

You laughed, catching him in a kiss before he could collapse. “Fine. You get one. For being a surprisingly stubborn slacker.”

He grinned lazily, resting his cheek against your forehead. “Best workout of my life.”

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luna-archives · 24 days ago

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hi, hana! hopefully i’m doing this right, but if i messed up, please let me know! but I’d like to participate in your event! :) could i request friends to lovers headcanons with jiyan from wuwa? below are a song and a couple of pics! thank you for hosting such a cute event, have a wonderful time zone! love you lots! >u< 💜✨

A/N: WINNY, MY BESTIE!! Thank you for your kind words, lovie! And these are so CUTEEE, made my cogs turn sweetly! Hope you love these headcanons I prepared for you! ✨🥹🤭 I am sorry if this is too long, it has been some time since I wrote something like this!

. Contrary to popular belief, I think Jiyan was an ambivert kid. Not really a shy person but mostly opens up to those he deems close to him and feels safe with.

. He is emotionally tuned too! Easily could see the emotions of others and himself, definetly a plus of reading a lot of books! He read every kind of book there is, but hero stories and a little bit of romance are his favourites.

. Some of the kids his age would sometimes pick on him for liking romance stories (his guilty pleasure lol). And you know how kids are, they can be really cruel.

. However, that brought a very welcomed sunlight and warmth to his life, one that he thanks whatever god is out there: You.

. You were the one who approached him during one calm and relaxing afternoon as he once again was reading some books, a tall stack of them next to himself as he snacked on a small thing his mom prepared for him. You noticed he was taking notes too, and knowing he is the doctor's son, you were nervous to approach him.

. He definetly is a guy to make annotations on the book itself. He thinks just as the book is offering you something, you leave a piece of yourself with each note or thought you write down. (Totaly not based ndjdjd)

. But you saw the title of the book he was reading, and your young mind couldn't help but curiously move towards him to ask about the book and what it tells.

. And that, my friend, is the start of a very soft friendship!

. Now, onto the friendhsip dynamics! 🤭

. He Always Waits for You. Whether it's finishing a mission, returning from town, or wrapping up a meal—he lingers nearby without saying much, only leaving when you do. He calls it "habit." It’s not. When you two were still tiny miny itty bitty kids, he would often wait for you after asking your mother if you wanted to go out and have a mini adventure in the City. Your mother always gushes whenever he politely knocks on the door and explains himself with a bright smile, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he clutched the small snacks and juices his mom prepared for both of you.

. You're His Quiet Spot. Jiyan often joins you in peaceful silence—reading beside you, brewing tea, or watching the sunset on a rooftop. If someone else shows up, he subtly shifts closer to you, like anchoring. With how hectic his schedule is since he has a lot duties to attend as the General, he can't find time to relax or do the things he likes to do. Sometimes he reminisces about the past, about his childhood and how less problematic it was...

. But then he takes a look at you, peacefully eating snacks and drinking tea as you ramble about the latest plot twist in the book you were reading and... He think he still has the childhood he missed with hım, and would continue to have it.

. You Help Tie His Hair even if he doesn't need help. Jiyan's hair wasn't always that long, especially when you two were children or teenagers. But he forgot to have a hazır cut öne day because of his studoes as a medic and you complimentes hım so heartfully that he didn't have the heart to cut short ever again. "They look like a majestic waterfall! They are really soft and shiny too, what do you exactly use for them, that's so unfair!"

. After he lets his hair grow out, it is game over. Now, you always insist on styling it or redoing it after a long mission, and while he was washing his face, you quickly did that (yep, you two stayed over at each other's place even before you started dating) and before he could raise a brow and ask you what the hell you were doing, you started to gently run your hand through his hair and massage his scalp.

. He couldn't help the relieved moan that left his mouth as he looked at the mirror MORTIFIED (you never let hım live it down). Now he always lets it fall loose around you. It becomes a quiet ritual—his way of letting you in.

. Since we mentioned staying at each others' place, sometimes, you both can’t sleep. Reasons may vary when you reach adulthood, from hunger to nightmares, but what is always the end of these times are that instead of stewing in your own heads, you meet in the kitchen. Tea, quiet words, maybe a shoulder to lean.

. Jiyan strikes me as someone who loves to talk about deep concepts and events, a bit complexity lover, if you would say. He loves talking to you about topics others might find hard to pick an opinion on and hearing your reasoning. This may be a habit of his General side, since he talks to his team a lot about their opinion about a mission, but Jiyan’s always been someone who thinks in layers—about cause and consequence, motive and meaning. As a General, it’s his responsibility to understand not only battlefields, but people. So when he trusts you, when he’s comfortable… he starts asking.

Not tactical orders. Not simple yes-or-no questions.

But the kinds of questions that say:

I want to know how you see the world.

Scenario Time!

You and Jiyan are sitting by the riverbank just outside Jinzhou after a late patrol. It’s quiet, and the stars are clear. You’re sharing tea in a flask he insisted on carrying. The soft hum of insects buzzes around you, but neither of you speak until he breaks the silence.

“...Let’s say there’s a village,” Jiyan says all of a sudden, voice low but steady. “Peaceful. Quiet. But its survival depends on the suffering of one person. Just one. One person no one else knows.”

“Would you expose the truth to save them—or let the lie stand to protect everyone else?” You blink, caught off guard—but not surprised. This is Jiyan’s way. He offers hypotheticals like folded paper: plain at first, but hiding something much more once opened. You pause, thinking of your answer. You know Jiyan knows your answer already, having already talked about similar "what-if" situations. But he likes to test your insistence and determination, whether your opinion changed or not and if it did, what caused you to change it. “The truth always comes out,” you finally say. “Even if I chose silence, it would only buy time. And when that lie crumbles, everyone would lose both peace and trust.”

And you don't specify anything, you never talk in extremities because sometimes... Sometimes, lies are more noble than truth....

. Locals in Jinzhou often assume you’re a couple. Even before dating. Even before any one of you does somethinf to give away your growing feelings. Jiyan never corrects them unless you bring it up tho. He doesn't see a reason to since in his mind, he thinks it can be inferred because of how close you two always were. Although he puts it into a logical explanation, he can't help the butterflies in his stomach and 648283 heartbeats per second his heart does.

. He likes knowing that the people

Every time you and Jiyan go to the same noodle stall, the vendor starts preparing two bowls before either of you orders.

“Couples always like the mushroom broth,” the cook says with a wink.

Jiyan doesn’t respond—just hands you your bowl a little more gently that day.

. And if you think you are safe from the elder population who likes to gossip and meddle with the affairs of youngsters... You are wrong! Both of you are such sweethearts for the people of Jinzhou anyways, the amount of elders wanting to have you as their daughter-in-law (something Jiyan doesn't like, even loathes, the idea of) and Jiyan as their son-in-law (something that mayhaps make your brain go haywire with conspiracy theories on how to get away with murder) and they like to KNOW!

An older shop owner once saw Jiyan shielding you from rain with his cloak right in front of her shop as you came back from an outing together. While he soaks to his underwear. “If that isn’t a husband in the making, I don’t know what is.” she told you as she winked playfully, giggling under her breath as she murmured "ahh, youngsters... Reminds me and my husband when we were young..."

Jiyan didn't seem to hear or even if he did, he hid that pretty well. (Yep, he heard it loud and Clear and but was too busy to calm his erraticbheart down as he looked at your soaked form. Have you always been that pretty or was it love opening his eyes even more?)

He didn’t speak at that time as you both warmed up—but days later gifted you a proper rain cloak with your favorite colors. “So you’ll be warmer next time,” he murmured.

And maybe… maybe a little flustered, ears red, eyes so soft that they could melt even stone. There’s something in the way he looks at you then, something you cannor shake tourself awake from. Like you’re a verse he’s read a thousand times but never aloud, afraid the syllables might fall wrong,or worse. That they might fall just right.

. There are a lot of bets going on between the people, in the Rangers, even Madame Magistrate and her teacher joins. (What he doesn't know is that his mother is also one of them and sighs like a woman in Victorian Era when he doesn't tell her he confessed to you at rare times that he is back in City. Her poor heart is already worried about her son's wellbeing, and now has to worry about his poor attempts, or the lack of it, when it comes to his future wife. Is it a bad thing for a woman her age to want to see her son settle down with the ONLY person she deems suitable?)

. Seriously though, his mother already loves you a lot! Jiyan strikes me as someone who was raised with a strong sense of responsibility. His mother likely played a quiet but formative role in shaping his values—compassion through action, strength tempered by empathy. He respects her deeply. He listens when she speaks, even when he doesn’t always show it outwardly. Yep, stubborn son and stubborn mother, rip your patience🙏🏻

So when she starts speaking of you softly and lovingly, with warmth all over her, it throws him off balance. Not in a bad way—but in the “he had no idea you were already that important to someone so important to him” kind of way.

You're polite. Warm. Not trying too hard. You compliment her choice of flowers or help her carry a parcel to her house. Try to kesen her work as much as you can, evet since You were a small child, to make it easier for her.

And that’s it. She loves you. Not just as a person. As someone she could see beside her son.

. Little things she does includes: Asking Jiyan if you eat well and are healthy, and always sending something to you through him like a scart she picked she thought you would like or homecooked food that is your favourite, saying that “You should bring them some of that tea they liked. It’s good for the nerves.”. Then teases him, gently, with a knowing smile when he comes back with a huge smile or having a huge smile as you visited them both with your own family, laughing together and getting closer to where Jiyan would sit, his eyes always on you and your face as he listened intently. “She looked very happy next to you, son.”/ “…Did she?”/ “Mmhm.”

He handles danger with calm. Complex missions with strategy. But this?

His mother loving you—not subtly—makes him stammer internally.

At first, he tries to act like it’s nothing, pushing her silly ideas bu saying that “She’s like that with everyone.”

But he knows you are not. You are much like hım, you love your peace and calm life and only open up to a number of people you feel safe and comfortable with, although you are always kind and open-minded for New things.

. I know I talked about his mother a lot but the mother of your significant other loving you too is such an amazing feeling! (Not that I would know with my single ass but appreciation is nice, no?)

. You Fall Asleep on Him. It starts on a bench in the shade. You blink awake hours later, still leaning against him. He hasn’t moved. “You looked peaceful,” he says, brushing your hair back. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

. He Confesses in the Most Jiyan Way Possible. No flowers. No grand speech. He just looks at you one day and says quietly, “I’m happiest when it’s you beside me. I… think I’ve known that for a while.”

It is when you two were sitting on the walls of the Jinzhou. The night hung gentle over Jinzhou, the sky heavy with stars that pulsed like distant heartbeats. From the high stone wall where you both sat, the city stretched beneath your feet—quiet now, save for the faint murmur of wind brushing through lanterns and tiles. You prepared the small meal you cooked for both of you as he prepared the hot tea he seemed to master at this point.

You never got how he knew the best way to brew tea... Was he even human?

You sat side by side, legs dangling just over the edge. The stone beneath you was cool, worn smooth by time and footsteps. High above the ground, it was quiet in a way the world rarely allowed. The kind of quiet that hummed just below your skin.

Jiyan hadn’t spoken in a while.

But you could feel him there—his shoulder brushing yours every so often when the wind nudged too boldly, his breath steady, deeper than usual, as if he were thinking through the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

His hands rested on his knees. Unmoving. Unclenched.

Below, lanterns swayed in the narrow alleys as you peacefully slipped on your teas. Distant yet low laughter rang out, faint, since everyone left for their home already. It was only you two as you rested from a long day of work and hım, patrolling. You watched the glow from the windows flicker like distant stars, felt the night lean in as if it, too, was listening.

You didn’t ask him what was on his mind.

You didn’t need to.

Instead, you leaned ever so slightly against him, letting your head brush his shoulder.

His breath caught—not sharply, just enough to betray the shift inside him. He didn’t lean away.

The silence stretched.

Then—barely noticeable—his hand slid across the stone between you. It hesitated for a moment… then found yours. Secure and safe, his palm was warm, fingers curling gently around yours as if he’d rehearsed the motion a thousand times in silence. Like he’d thought about this moment—how to touch you, how to reach you—but never quite trusted that it would feel this… simple.

. Oh and! Local kids are now your kids too because to them, your love story is just the best and they love running around you both yelling, “Big brother Jiyan likes big sister y/n!” One of them actually ties a flower ring around both your wrists like a wedding ceremony. When asked why not the ring finger, the child stared at them judgingly as if they dared to speak stupid in front of them and says "It is up to big brother Jiyan obviously? Or else, everyone knows I can do it!"

Well, that made Jiyan sweat nervously as you laughed at the kid's silliness but... he didnt. Was that...supposed to be a warning? Or statement of truth? No one would ever know.

. All in all, you guys are definition of soft lovers. Not loud. Not explosive. Just steady.

The kind of love that builds in the quiet: in shared glances over tea, the way his hand always finds yours without searching, the weight of his cloak draped over your shoulders before you even realize you’re cold. In the soft way he would always bring a book he knew you wanted to see for a long time, warm smile he would give you as he held your hand and pulled you to his Side when the crowd grew thicker. It was in the way you would always leave a lamp/ lantern lighting when he was out for patrolling again, in the delicate way you would always send long pages of letters and a lot of photos so that he didn't miss you and home a lot (he would, forever), and in the way he never lets your tea go cold. You never let his hand go unattended when he looks tired.

You are each others' solace and safe place to fall when everything becomes too much.

...

Scenario:

Jiyan's home used to be so mechanic. Not because he had a lot of gear around, he dıd, he had a bad habit of throwing his gear around behind that tidy general persona. No, it was in the way that it was void of warmth, like he functionally lived in it and not because it was a safe place to come and rest.

Everything had a place—maps hung on walls, gear neatly stacked (at first), military reports filed on the table.

The space was always clean, yes. But it lacked life. No plants. No personal touches. No comfort objects. No scent of something simmering on a stove unless he had just finished cooking, and even that was rare. Not a thing that screamed him, and that this place was his.

There were no lingering signs of warmth—no worn books, no scattered blankets, no half-burnt candles. The walls didn’t echo with music or the sound of laughter.

Only silence. Controlled, organized, suffocating silence.

It wasn’t that he wanted it that way.

It was just all he knew.

When you two reached adulthood and went to your seperate ways in careers, you couldn't visit him like you used to when you were children. But when you two finally did visit each other's house, you didn’t say anything out loud—but your expression softened as you looked around.

You didn’t judge. You just noticed.

“Do you ever candle in here?”

“...No.”

“Why not?”

“Never thought about it.”

You left a blanket behind once, and he didn’t fold it. He draped it over the couch where you last sat.

You brought fruit he didn’t ask for. He bought more the next week.

One day, you brought a tiny plant. “For the window,” you said. He didn’t water it for a week—then panicked when it wilted. He’s taken care of it ever since.

And just like that, your chipped mugs were there right next to his on the counter. Your fluffy slippers right next to his on the side of the bed that now belongt to you. The silly hobby coloring book you bought on a whim was laying idly and open on the table in his living room, the puzzle you bought you swore you would start but never did, and there was a music player in his home now and it played all kinds of music both you and him liked.

(You sat him down in the living room as he looked at you with soft, mesmerized eyes as you explained your plan and later continued to stare, a hand rubbing your hips and spreading his hig hand over your lower back while you made hım listen to music after music. He wouldn't tell it out loud, but the best music to his ears was yours."

The kettle clicked softly on the stove, steam curling upward like a lazy breath as you cooked a warm meal for Jiyan. He had told you he would be coming home to you tonight, that he missed you and asked what you have been up to lately. You could only giggle and recount the last few weeks to his hologram that appeared from your terminal.

And true to his words, he had arrived to your home when the sun was about to dip under the horizon, his green long hair swaying to the movement of the wind while the sun created a small halo behind him as he slowly walked up the small hill to your shared home, all the while you sprinted out the house and ran at his wide open arms and eyes crinklimg from smiling too wide, too genuine as he called out for you, catching you between his arms. You are home, Jiyan!/ I came back to you, love...

The golden light (you insisted it was good for eyes and to be honest, you were right. He still couldn't wrap his mind around how you knew a lot of things about daily life) from the lamp in your kitchen brought a comfort to both of you as Jiyan came from the direction of shower, his hair now in a half-up bun while he fixed his clothes.

Music played through the soft and warm space of his home, your home, and that brought a small, content smile to his face. All these times he has been by himself, alone in the coldness of his house that he rarely came to, he never realized how dense, empty and cold his house was.

He couldn't even bring himself to call it home, not when you weren't in it, not when there weren't reminders in his home, his terminal, the Office in the HQ that someone was waiting for hım to come home.

Without him realizing it, you really made this place into a place that he could breathe.

And the best part? He get to have you all to himself.

You stood barefoot in the kitchen, arms crossed loosely, half listening to the music as your hips swayed to the rhythm from time to time. You were in your little world, and Jiyan realized that he wanted to look into your mind. Not in a creepy way but more like to see how you manahed to still find a good thing to hold onto in this chaotic world. How you brought light, a new perspective to life and how people handled it.

Upon seeing hım standing on the doorway, half leaning on the side as he watched you with a small grateful smile, small, almost bashful, all gratitude and something softer than peace—hit you harder than it should have.

Your chest felt too full.

Not because he looked perfect, but because he looked safe, content, happy.

You extended your hand towards him, watching as he silently held yours wordlessly with a small smile, allowing you to pull hım closer as your arms then wrapped around his neck and a little nervous smile twitched at your lips after you closed the stove. “Come on. No one’s watching.”

You expected him to be awkward. Stiff. But he moved with quiet grace, stepping in as if it were muscle memory. One of his hands settled on your waist, the other gently holding yours as he unwrapped it around his neck, only to kiss the wrist that was adorned bu the anniversary gift he had given to you. You swayed, slowly, the world shrinking down to the soft scrape of feet on the wooden floor and the quiet music fluttering through the window.

His touch was warm. Grounding. And suddenly your heart felt too big for your chest. Your forehead brushed his collarbone as you two slow danced in the middle of the night. You felt the slow rise and fall of his breath. Alive, warm, with you... He didn’t speak, but his fingers tightened just slightly at your side as he pressed you to himself, his nose brushing the side of your neck to smell the familiar smell of shampoo that brought hım comfort in the cold and merciless days while he was out there.

Fighting for a future for both of you and Jinzhou.

You closed your eyes.

Just for now. Just for this song.

You let yourself fall into him like you were meant to all along.

And laugh like you were meant to as he twirled you around happily, both of you feeling at home.

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