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l0v3tast3 · 1 year

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pervy neighbor!toji headcanons !

toji sets his sights on you and just can't look away!

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, maybe tw for stepcest (toji dates your mom)?, age gap (reader is college age, toji is probably late-30's), kind of dubious consent, infidelity, loss of virginity, unsafe sex, kind of obsessive!toji, pet names, breeding kink, corruption kink, dacryphilia, reader definitely has daddy issues (but no daddy kink)

✎ word count: 5k words (might have gotten a little carried away. but it's proofread!)

✎ author's note: something about jjk characters makes me have the worst, filthiest thoughts i've ever had, but i'm not upset about it. also genuinely surprised that this turned out to be 5k words i thought it would be like 2k max ( 〃▽〃) . . . toji brings out the best and worst in me <3

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♡ when toji first lays eyes on you, it's sick how fast he starts thinking dirty thoughts. your mother and you are his new neighbors, coming over to say "hi" and introduce yourselves. your mother looked to be around his age, while you looked like you were probably in college (she must have had you when she was young like he had with megumi), but the way you half-hid yourself behind your mom wasn't helping you look any older.

♡ your mom makes you introduce yourself to him and you do so shyly, calling him "mr. zenin", barely making eye contact with the man that was a full head and a half taller than you. he smiles down at you and sticks out his hand, and after a moment you shakily take it, his engulfing yours completely. he could easily pin down both your hands with one of his. hell, he could pin down your whole body with one of his hands. he lingers a little too long, and you retreat a little further behind your mom after he lets go, your face an adorable shade of red.

♡ toji only half-listens to your mother rambling on, mostly just staring at you and being grateful that his shirt was long enough to cover his boner. he tuned in when she talked about how you went to college but still lived with her because it wasn't far. he also listened to when your mother mentioned her job took her across the country or even out of it a lot of the time. oh, so many thoughts were already forming in his head. toji could get quite creative when he wanted to.

♡ he can tell your mom is attracted to him when she juts out her chest and mentions her deadbeat ex-husband more than once. so he exchanges numbers with her and flirts a little. he's a single man, what else is he to do?

♡ toji figures out that, by the grace of god it seems, your bedroom is the one with the window directly across from his, and you don't seem to realize that your pink lace curtains are see-through. it really just kept getting better for him, didn't it? he absolutely watches your silhouette of you changing, watching your little figure take your shirt and shorts off, imagining he was in the room with you. if he were there, he wouldn't have to watch you put on other clothes. he would take off your clothes for you, probably rip them a little too (on accident, of course). he would make sure you didn't put anything on for a good long time, except maybe some cute lingerie. or a collar.

♡ he takes the time to work up to dating your mom. toji's a patient man, he can wait to get his hands on you. distance makes the heart grow fonder, right? and the better he gets to know your mother, the better he gets to know you, too. oh, she raves about you, of course! a model student and such a good girl, never getting into any trouble, always focusing on your schoolwork. you graduated top of your class in high school, and were on track to do the same in college. her baby was basically a genius! toji's heart swelled to hear about just how much of a good girl you were.

♡ it's not long before he's at your dinner table with your mother and you and a wonderful home-cooked meal. the woman that he's supposed to be looking at luckily talks enough that she doesn't realize toji is staring at you the whole time. you practically squirm in your chair under his gaze, hardly saying a word unless you were spoken to. he asks you normal questions, like how's school going, oh you're in your last year? any plans after college? he loves hearing your meek voice stutter out your answers. your mom has to tell you to speak up and you get that cute redness in your cheeks again, raising your voice just the slightest bit. you still called him "mr. zenin", so he tells you to just call him toji. you nod, but you don't actually say his name after that.

♡ at the end of the meal, he of course insists on cleaning up himself, and he's in the kitchen with a grin when he hears your mother telling you to help him clean up. you mumble something he can't hear, and your mom responds with "he is not scary, now go help him!" and he laughs a little. he'll make sure you aren't scared of him for long.

♡ you shuffle in with a few more dirty dishes and place them next to the sink, then look around for something to do before awkwardly picking up a rag and starting to dry what he had already washed. after a little bit of silence, toji strikes up some friendly conversation. "so, are you really liking college? your mom has been telling me all about how well you're doing. she's always talking about how much of a good girl you are," he says. the way your face once again got red was something toji needed to see more often. you seem to stop dead in your tracks and malfunction a bit when he calls you a "good girl", and you stutter something like "uh, yeah, it's- it's been good. she... actually said all that?" he wants to feel how you'll clench around him when he calls you a good girl as you take his thick cock. "yeah, she did," he says with a chuckle. "what? does she not say it to you a lot?" you shake your head no. poor baby, no one was telling you how great of a job you were doing. toji will, though. he'll praise you all night long when you manage to fit all of him inside you.

♡ he starts coming over more after that. he notices that (when asked first) you start telling him more about your achievements in college, like when you ace an exam or your professors write good feedback on your essays. and of course, he's always there to tell you what a great job you did; sometimes he adds in the words "good girl", just for fun. he even starts getting little smiles out of you, tiny at first, but they started spreading to your pretty eyes not too long after. you even start calling him "toji", finally. his name sounds so good coming out of your mouth, he wants to hear you say it while he's got his head shoved between your squishy thighs.

♡ it takes months, months of toji jerking himself off to every filthy thought imaginable about you, months of getting you to warm up to him, months of convincing your mother that he really was into her. it all pays off when the worst storm of the season rolls in. it's around 10pm when your mom calls him from halfway across the country, worried about you because she heard about the storm. apparently, you'll "freak out" if the power goes out. you get paranoid easily, she says. toji tells her not to worry, he'll check on you. he grabs his keys and coat and is knocking on your door within two minutes, albeit drenched in rain water. he sees you peak around the curtain of the window next to the door before you open it, asking him what he was doing here. "your mom asked me to check on you. says you scare easy." she was absolutely right, but you still huffed indignantly.

♡ you let him in, of course, and ask him if he wants a change of clothes. you say your mom probably has some of her ex's old clothes lying around that might fit him. he says sure and asks if he could shower, too. you stutter out a "yeah" and lead him to the bathroom, showing him where the towels and soaps were, accidentally brushing against him in the tight space. he can feel how intense your heartbeat is, just for a second. it makes toji want to smooth his hands all over your body, dig into the knots in your back and make it slow before he raises it even higher. you scurry off to your moms room to find a change of clothes for him.

♡ it takes you awhile to dig out something that might fit him, a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. it takes you so long, in fact, that he's out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist, opening the door just when you're about to leave the clothes on the floor. he thinks your nose might actually start bleeding when you see him shirtless, and it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. part of him thinks it would be funny to just drop the towel, but you scare easy. you hand him the clothes and speed-walk to the living room before he can thank you.

♡ toji gets changed into the t-shirt that clings to his skin and the sweatpants that are loose but will definitely show the imprint of his dick as soon he sits down. luckily, your couch has pillows. he finds you in the living room, your legs curled up to your chest as you look through netflix for something to watch. he plops down right beside you, making sure to grab a pillow for his lap, putting a foot up on the coffee table. you ask him if he's staying, and he says of course, what if the power goes out? do you know how to use the circuit breaker? you say you sort of do. he clicks his tongue and declares he's staying. you just hand him the tv remote and tell him to choose something to watch. you always let him take the lead with everything.

♡ it takes a lot of back and forth of him teasing you for never knowing what to watch and you just repeating "just put on whatever you want!", and when you finally do decide on something, the power goes out. you let out a squeak and instinctively press yourself closer to him, but he's wrapping an arm around you and saying softly that it's alright, it'll come back on soon. he can see your worried expression from the streetlights shining in faintly, and he reaches up to lightly pinch your cheek, muttering that you're so cute like this.

♡ "you think- you think 'm cute?" you ask quietly, and he nods with a smirk. "mhm, think you're adorable. such a pretty girl," he says, leaning in just a little closer. his large hand that takes up half your face is in your hair now, tangling his fingers in it and playing with it a little. you're so warm, heating up the more he touched you. his other hand rubs your back, slowly going lower, inch by inch. he can see his touch having an effect on you, a very, very positive one. your breathing gets a little bit quicker. he can feel your heartbeat through your back.

♡ "think you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen." the hand on your back is coming back up, to your shoulder and grazing past your neck to cup the side of your jaw and stroke his thumb over your soft cheek. "do you not think you're pretty, baby?" you definitely notice the pet name, but you don't say anything about it, just look down and shake your head a little. "oh, princess, can't have that now." he guides your head back up to make you look at him again with wide eyes. "i can show you. you're gonna let me show you how pretty you are, right baby?"

♡ you give a tiny nod and he kisses you, and god, toji is in love with your lips. they're so soft and sweet, and he can't help but move a hand to the back of your neck to pull you in deeper, greedily swallowing the little noises you made. he finds it cute how you struggle to keep up with him, how a whimper escapes you when one of his overly-sharp canines catches your lip. he wants to mark you all over with them, claim every part of your body as his, listen to you yelp when he sinks them in almost too deep.

♡ toji draws away and laughs when you try to follow him, taking in your dazed look, red lips shiny with his and your spit and blown pupils. "aw, sweet girl, you already look so fucked out. haven't even done anything to you yet," he mumbles as he starts kissing down your jaw and around your neck. the pillow is gone and he's picking you up effortlessly to put you on his lap, facing him. he's obsessed with how small you are compared to him. you're trying so hard to hold back more noises, and your hands go to his broad shoulders, as if you were going to push him away (not that it would do anything, he's got an arm wrapped around your back now). but you don't, you just gasp out a whiny "what about my mom and you?" and he draws back a little to look you in the eye, lips hovering just over yours again. "'m just showin' you how pretty you are, baby. she doesn't appreciate you enough, does she? i can, so much better, princess. we can keep it secret, right?" he says, his voice low and rumbling and you look hypnotized.

♡ you nodded a little with an "mhm" and he smiles, kissing you again. he takes his time with you, as agonizing as it is, but he needs to work you open. your mom was going to be gone for another few days still, and he had already waited this long. when he pulled away again he went straight to kissing down the other side of your neck, using his hand still in your hair to move your baggy shirt to expose more skin. he uses the other one around your waist to press you into him a little more and down enough to feel his hard dick through your shorts and his pants. it forces a little gasp out of you and your grip on his shoulders tightens, balling his shirt. "toji, i've never- haven't done this before," you mumble. he knows, of course, he knew it from the start, could practically smell it on you.

♡ "'s okay, princess, i'll go slow. i'll be so gentle with you, promise," he mumbles into your skin, his hands all over your body, in your hair and on your back and your arms and under your breasts, over your stomach. it's almost overwhelming to you. his hands end up grabbing you under your thighs, just below your ass, and you let out a yelp and wrapped your arms around his neck tight when he stands up with you. "c'mon, baby, can't show you how pretty you are in here." he brings you to your room, glad to see there's a little bit of streetlight coming in too here. he sits down on the edge of your cushy bed with you still in his lap, lathering your collarbone with attention.

♡ his hands are rubbing your hips, edging underneath your shirt and pressing you down more and more against his aching cock. "feel how hard you get me, sweet girl? 's cause you're so damn cute," he breathes, and he's so happy when you start shakily grinding down against him, your legs spread so wide by his. he's been waiting for this for so fucking long, and now he's finally in your room, finally inching your shirt over your head for you. toji's scar stretches with his smile when he sees you aren't wearing a bra, and he catches the arm that tries to cover yourself up. "mm-mm, princess, gotta see all of ya." he puts your hand back on his shoulder and uses his to grope the tit he's not sucking and nipping and licking at. your body twitches and a dainty hand goes to his hair, and you're finally moaning for him, whimpering his name when he tugs a little too hard with his teeth.

♡ the power comes back on on it's own just as your nipples are starting to get sore, your fairy lights taped around the edge of the ceiling lighting the room up with a soft glow. toji detaches himself from you and smiles. "can finally fuckin' see ya again, 'bout time," he mumbles, going right back to what he was just doing. you whine and your grip on his hair and shoulder get a little bit tighter, but his hands don't let you move in any direction except closer to him. he keeps going, too busy thinking about how gorgeous your tits will look when they're swollen with milk, how sweet they already are and how much sweeter they will be, until you tug on his hair a little and say his name between sharp breaths. he finally lets up and his hands go to your waist and hips.

♡ he helps guide you while you grind down on him, just taking in how you close your eyes and let out sweet little gasps whenever he bumps your clit through your shorts and underwear. "gonna let me take these off of ya, sweet girl?" he murmurs, his hands massaging your thighs and ass, waiting impatiently for you to nod again before he picks you up again and lays you down on your bed. he's just glad it's a queen size; enough space for him to fuck you most ways he wants.

♡ he follows your shorts and underwear down your legs with his mouth, committing all your embarrassed squeaks to memory. you try to close your legs once he has everything off but of course he doesn't let you. toji's smile doesn't leave his face while he's taking your thighs in his hands to spread them apart, leaving one to smooth a hand over your belly. "prettiest girl i've ever fuckin' seen," he says again, watching his hand go to spread your little pussy apart. his thumb grazes your clit and your hips jerk and he laughs. "so damn sensitive. never had anyone down here, baby, not even to eat this pretty pussy out?" you can't even look at him when you shake your head. if it's possible, his dick gets even harder. "good. dumbass frat boys couldn't ever do it like i can."

♡ once toji finally gets his mouth on your soaked cunt he doesn't think he's capable of stopping. you're practically dripping onto the bed, and he's there to lick every drop up, swallowing it happily and coaxing as much more as he can out of you with his tongue. your body is already writhing, you already have your hands in his hair, you're already crying out for him, and he's in a state of euphoria.

♡ he stops for a moment and you're about to ask what's wrong before he's muttering about how the bed is "too damn short" and you're being dragged down to the edge. your noise of surprise turns into a gasp when he starts sucking on your clit again, now kneeling on the floor. toji throws your legs over his shoulders and holds down the top of one to keep you in place, his other hand coming back to your pussy. his middle finger is slowly sinking into you and he moans into you when he feels how tight you are; his hand is never going to be enough to get himself off after this. when he starts working in a second finger you cum; you can feel it everywhere in you, taking over your body and your head (you think you may get addicted to this, to toji doing this to you).

♡ of course, toji doesn't stop after you've cum once. he gives you a little break, despite being so close to breaking himself. he's so close to letting himself loose on you, so close to digging his fingers in just bit too hard and sinking his teeth in too deep. somehow, he manages to just rub your hips and nip at your inner thighs. you mewl out his name and try to pull him back up to you but he doesn't budge, instead laughing and shaking his head. "not yet, princess, you're still way too tight." he pushes two fingers back in, his mouth hovering back over your clit. "wouldn't want to rip you in half, would we?" you stopped listening the second he started back up on your still-sensitive clit, throwing your head back and grabbing his hair again. "ah-h, toji, wait-!" he wasn't listening either.

♡ he doesn't let up until he makes you cum with three fingers (twice) and you're nearly crying from overstimulation. the only words you seem to be able to form at this point are "toji" and "please", and toji thinks this is his new favorite version of you. eventually, when he runs out of patience and he deems that it won't hurt that much, he finally lets you come down from the high he'd kept you on. he leaves one more mark on your thigh before he stands up to strip himself down quick, releasing a breath of relief when his aching cock is finally freed.

♡ it takes a moment for toji to decide how to take you. in all the months he waited and thought about this, he never could decide on this part. he would have you ride him, if your legs weren't still shaking. he decided to just say "fuck it" and go with missionary; easier to see your cute expressions like that. toji moves you back up the bed and climbs over you, smiling and cooing down at your watery eyes and his favorite shade of red painting your skin. he wraps your legs around your waist and brings his hands to cup your face again.

♡ "aw, what's wrong, baby? you were beggin' me for somethin' just a minute ago, what was it? hm, princess? c'mon, use your words." you mumble out a little "please", and toji shakes his head. "'please' what? you want more, 's that what you're tryin' to say? c'mon baby, tell me you want more," he says, one of his huge hands grabbing your jaw, putting the lightest amount of pressure on it. your eyes widen a bit and you nod, squeaking out a "more, toji, please!" and his cheeks start to hurt from how wide his smile grows.

♡ he took a moment to appreciate the view of his dick resting heavy on your stomach, a before-shot of how deep he'll reach inside of you. his head came to just below your belly button; toji could have came just from that. he notices you're still just looking at him and he takes one of your hands and wraps it around his cock for you, and you finally look down at it. he wishes he could take a picture of your face, it's both hilarious and incredibly cute. "toji, 's not- not gonna fit," you mumble as he moves your hand up and down it. he laughs a little. "we'll make it fit, princess, don't worry." he's gathering both your hands now in one of his and pinning them over your head. "it'll only hurt for a minute, then it'll feel so good, baby, i promise. not gonna want me to ever stop." toji rubs his dick through the folds of your pussy, covering it in your own arousal, his head brushing your clit and making you whine. "all ya gotta do is lay here all pretty and take it for me, you can do that, right baby? i know you can, bein' such a good girl for me." you're melting and practically dripping from his words and he lines his head up to start pushing into you.

♡ your hands squeeze his just about as tight as your tiny pussy does around the head of his cock once it pops in. toji kisses you and moans while you gasp, and he pushes in a little more, and you already feel like this would be enough. he's so thick; his fingers had felt so big to you, but now that just made you feel dumb. he draws back an inch just to push in two more and your legs are tightening around his waist. you're making cute little noises while he pushes your jaw up to mark more of your neck. he's everywhere, surrounding your entire body with his, not giving you an inch to move. you feel him everywhere, inside and out, and he's so deep inside you, and he still has a couple inches to go.

♡ his hips finally meet your thighs and toji thinks he's found heaven. he was so elated to have you how he wanted you, ecstatic that his months of work had finally paid off. he stops sucking on your neck to come nose-to-nose with you, his hold on your jaw loosening so he could thread his hand through your hair. "ohh, fuck, pretty girl, you're doin' so fuckin' good, bein' such a good girl for me," he breathed with a smile and hooded eyes. "does it hurt, princess? 'm sorry, it'll go away soon, baby, i promise. gonna feel so good in a minute. feels so good around me, so much better that i ever thought- shit, baby," he chokes out a moan when you're squeezing even tighter around him and you whine, trying to move your hips to get him to move.

♡ he starts moving, and he swears he tries to go slow, but it admittedly doesn't take long before he's really fucking you. "takin' it like a fuckin' champ, baby, my god. feels so fuckin' good. never leavin' this pussy, fuckin' never, princess. hah, sweet girl, don't squirm so much, how am i supposed to find all your good spots like that? that's it, baby, just take it for me. such a good fucking girl." his mouth gets filthy and it just doesn't stop running while he fucks any air and any thoughts out of your body. he's too deep, there's too much of him but it's so good that you just don't care. it's so much better than you thought it would be, toji makes it so much better than you thought it would be.

♡ you cum before long and he fucks you through it, holding your jaw to keep eye contact with you the entire time, obsessed with the tears threatening to fall from your wet lashes. he slows down as you come down and you think he's mercifully giving you a break when he pulls out, despite your cry of protest that he wants to make his ringtone. then he's picking you up and standing up with you to sit in front of your floor-length mirror with your back to his chest. "don't ya remember, baby? i gotta show you just how pretty you are," he says in your ear as he digs his hands into your hips and ass tight enough that there will definitely be bruises, but he's lining you up and pushing you down on his cock before you can whine about it. you're clawing at his arms and reaching behind you to grab his hair while he keeps sinking you down, and he watches with a salacious grin.

♡ "see, princess, see how pretty you are? bouncin' up and down on my cock like you were fuckin' made for it, you were, weren't you? fuckin' perfect fit. you look so perfect taking my cock, such a pretty girl. prettiest fuckin' girl i've ever seen. no, no, don't look away baby, watch how good you take my dick inside your tiny little pussy. that's it, princess. this pussy is mine now, right, baby? right? yeah, all mine now. gonna ruin you for any other man on the fuckin' planet."

♡ you came again and toji wasn't far behind you after that, practically using you like a toy at this point. you did your best to cling to him, but the only thing you could do in his hold was to watch and feel his fat cock bullying in and out of your pussy. babbles and moans were all you could manage now, and the only thing that would have made toji happier was if he had his phone in his hands to record it. he'd have plenty of chances later, anyways.

♡ "gonna let me cum in your pretty pussy, baby? aww, hah, too cock drunk to speak, huh? did i fuck you dumb already? mm, like you like this a lot, princess. so sweet for me. i'll fill you up with my cum as a reward, how's that sound? ha! your pussy likes that idea! squeezin' me so damn tight, you like that idea, don't you pretty girl? ohh, just be good and take it, just like that baby."

♡ he slams you down all the way on his cock and wraps his arms around you, grinding up into you hard, and you feel your belly get warm and somehow you feel even more full. you go limp against him, closing your eyes and whimpering with every twitch of his hips. it's just the mix of your heavy breathing for a few moments before toji's sitting back up from curling you both forward, looking in the mirror again.

♡ "aww, c'mon baby, you're letting it all leak out," he says, his voice gravelly and a bit heavier than before. when you don't open your eyes fast enough, his hand is in your hair and pulling it to make you look at where his cum is leaking out of you around his cock. and he's still hard.

♡ "guess i'll just have to fill you up again to make up for it, huh, pretty girl?"

#jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x female reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw stepcest #— lilly writes! ♡

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room-surprise · 7 months

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How Old Is Thistle?

(EDIT: I've made a follow-up post to this one that goes deeper into the math and additional evidence that the 5:1 ratio is correct. You can read it here!)

I've seen people debating this and a lot of folks insisting that Thistle is a child, and since Thistle just debuted in the anime, I wanted to do a full write-up to help myself and others figure this out.

We don't know how old any of the Merini family members are exactly, so the best we can do is guess based on the information we have, but after carefully studying the manga, I think Thistle is at least a teenager, but much more likely a young adult, and definitely not a prepubescent child.

Here's what we know:

EDIT: Depending on what translation you read of some of the extra materials, Freinag implies that Thistle is the same age as some of his advisors.

Here's a detailed translation of this panel from my friend Fumi:

Elves age 5 times slower than tall-men.

16 year old tall-men in Dungeon Meshi's medieval time period are adults, they commonly join the military, get married, have children, etc.

An 80 year old elf is an adult. Pattadol is 82 and she's a lieutenant in a military unit. It's her first job and she's obviously a rookie, but Captain Flamela tells Pattadol to accomplish her mission or die trying.

Many fully adult elves look like what we might consider children or young teens, because they're short, petite, and have androgynous features.

An average elven adult is around 150-155cm tall (5 ft), meaning some are shorter than that, and some are taller. Thistle is 130 cm, which is short, but not unheard of.

Fleki is 130 (26) years old and she's 140 cm tall (4'7")

Otta is 137 (27) years old and she's 130 cm (4'5") tall, the same height as Thistle!

They are both women, but there's probably plenty of elven men in their height range.

Just so we can compare Thistle to some adult elven men, Mithrun and his brother are probably adults (or close to it) in the panel on the left.

Mithrun (in this image) is somewhere between 75 and 144 (probably in his 80's), and his brother is older than him (so he could be in his late 80s or 90s). As you can see, they don't look that different from Thistle, Otta or Fleki.

So, how old is Thistle?

(Spoilers below the cut)

Thistle was brought to the royal court as a child (found on the street, stolen or purchased, we don't know how they got him). At the absolute youngest I'd guess Thistle is 25 years old here (so about 5 years old for a tall-man.) He can already play the flute, and possibly the lute, and most children that aren't prodigies can't handle playing an instrument (physically or mentally) until they're around 5.

EDIT: We now know that Thistle is the same age as Freinag, the king that takes him in! So Thistle must be at least 25 years old in this comic, though realistically he could be anywhere from 25 to 40 based on how Kui drew Freinag.

He lived in the court for an unknown amount of time, Freinag hasn't changed much but Thistle appears to have aged a little, so let's say it's been 5 years and Thistle is 30 (6) when Delgal is born. More than 5 years could have passed, but I'm trying to keep the numbers low.

Delgal gets married and has a child. Delgal should be at least 15 at this point, but since he has a full mustache before his wedding, I think he's in his 20's, since teenagers tend to not be the best at growing robust facial hair.

(He has a full beard by the time Eodio's a young child.)

Thistle puts the kingdom inside the dungeon around this point, however, people are still aging: Delgal's grandson Yaad is born, and Eodio is clearly a young adult here, probably in his 20's. Therefore, there is NO REASON to assume Thistle stopped aging. "The dungeon lords don't age" is a common fan headcanon I've seen people spreading, but it has no clear canon basis.

Yaad ages until he looks about 13-15 years old, and at this point all of the people of the kingdom and Thistle appear to stop aging, and 1,000 years pass.

So, the youngest Thistle could possibly be, if he was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, if Delgal was 15 when he had Eodio, and Eodio was 15 when he had Yaad, and Yaad is 13 years old...

Is 73 years old, which would make Thistle about 14.6 years old by tall-man standards.

HOWEVER, I think it's VERY unlikely that all the characters are that young.

I think it's clear from Kui's drawings that Delgal and Eodio are not 15 years old when they become fathers, and that Freinag is at least 25 when he takes in Thistle.

If we assume Thistle was 30 when Delgal was born, and Delgal and Eodio were both at least 20 when they had children, even if Yaad is only 13 years old, that makes Thistle at least 83 years old (16.6), and makes him older than Pattadol, who is an adult at 82.

However, I think it's entirely possible that Thistle was anywhere from 40-50 when Delgal was born, and Delgal could have been anywhere from 20 to 30 when he had Eodio, and Eodio could have been anywhere from 20-25 when he had Yaad. If you use the maximum ages, and assume Yaad is 15, then Thistle could be as old as 120 (24).

I think a reasonable middle ground is assuming Thistle was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, Delgal had Eodio at 25, Eodio had Yaad at 20, and Yaad is 15... Which would make Thistle 90 (18) years old.

This of course says nothing about Thistle's emotional maturity or sanity, he's obviously stunted in some ways, but the point I want to make here is:

Thistle's age could be anywhere from 14.6 to 24 at the most extreme, but more realistically he's somewhere between 16.6 and 18.

And that's not even counting the thousand years that he's lived since then!

And that's all I've got to say about that 🙏🙏🙏🙏

(EDIT: Follow-up post with additional evidence here.) EDIT 2: I've seen a lot of people talking about the page Kui drew talking about elven earmuffs. It's considered just barely okay for Pattadol to wear them, but it's ok for Thistle to wear them... In which case I'd say Thistle could be any age younger than 83. That's handy as it knocks out some of the older ages!

So in that case Thistle's age is between 73 years old and 82, which makes him developmentally between 14.6 and 16.4!

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #Thistle #Thistle Merini #thistle dungeon meshi #thistle delicious in dungeon #sissel #spoilers #theories

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bigification · 3 months

Text

New Recruit

Darren wanted to take advantage of the hot weather while it lasted. He pulled on his shortest shorts and went to sunbathe on his front porch. Those washboard abs of his need to be shown off this summer, so he wouldn't dare hide them. The cool breeze and the blazing sun on Darren's skin felt so relaxing, enough so that he dozed off to sleep.

FWOOOOMP

"Ow!" He woke up in a panic. "What the hell?" He said as he pulled a small dart out of his arm. He looked around quickly, but no one was in sight. Were his friends fucking with him. Either way it hurt.

It didn't take long for the nausea to kick in. He tried standing up, but his head was spinning. A tingly feeling sprouted from his arm, where the dart hit.

Suddenly his arm swelled with muscle and fat. His skinny but defined arms doubled in size, with a thick layer of fat making them look soft. His hands thickened, growing callouses as if he'd been labouring his whole life.

The transformation moved up his arm to his shoulder. His shoulders broadened as his traps bulged out of his neck. His flat chest bounced as two soft man tits formed over his pecs, a silver ring over his enlarged nipple. His abs rapidly disappeared under a thick layer of fat, creating a round belly that protruded forward from his body.

His back muscles rippled, matching his massive shoulders as the transformation moved to his other arm. For a moment his left arm looked tiny in comparison to his massive torso, but it soon ballooned to the size of his right arm. And a biker tattoo imprinted on the size of his thick bicep.

This was when Darren finally realized what was happening. He knew he should have been concerned, but the euphoric feeling coursing through his body as it transformed felt too good.

His perky ass swelled with fat, quickly filling all the free space in his shorts. Rips crackled from his shorts as they strained to hold his growing body. His thighs then doubled in girth as they grew to a size any footballer would be jealous of. His legs also stretched as they grew, making him at least six inches taller than he was moments prior. Even his feet burst out his sandals, going from a size 10 to a monstrous size 18. Luckily the increased surface area of his massive feet made him regain his balance as he started to get used to his hulking body.

The transformation in his body had nearly come to an end as it moved up to his head. His neck thickened, matching his large traps. His sharp jawline melted into a soft double chin as patchy stubble covered his face. His cheeks puffed out as a thick handle bar mustache formed over his lip. His facial features became more rugged, aging him at least 30 years as his hairline receded. And the remaining hair shortened down to a manly buzz cut.

As his head transformed, so did his brain. Hir memories of being a sexy college student are replaced with those of a 50 something biker. His delicacy was replaced with a more aggressive demeanor, and all he could think about was sex. He could feel his dick grow in his tight pants. A final effect of his transformation, his dick began to hang out the bottom of his jean shorts. As he regained his composure, he rushed to push his dick back in his pants.

"Hey Darren! You really can't keep your dick in your pants can ya!" A biker yelled from the bottom of his driveway.

Darren blushed in response as he fully pushed his dick back into his shorts.

"Here put these on and let's go." The biker throws some leather towards Darren. "Let's go put that dick to good use." The biker said with a wink.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #male wg #reality change #male transformation #muscle tf #age progression

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tidetfs · 6 months

Text

Dan stared at the bottle he had ordered. Never thinking it would actually have arrived from the sketchy online seller, the liquid within shone a bright orange. Bringing the bottle to his nose, the 20-year old nerdy college student recalled the ad: "become a hot, dumb, smelly, musky, blonde himbo Aussie surfer dude with long hair!" - what he initially thought as ridiculous and something that would only live in his fantasies, he began to think the ad might have been a little real as he popped the cork and gave it a sniff, recoiling. It smelled like the combination of the sea and a high school locker room!

The ad had promised a transformation time of 30 minutes, and for the effects to last forever! Dan looked around at his room...did he really want to do this? Leave his nerdy life behind? As soon as he began to have doubts, he forced himself to rip the cork off the bottle. Before the smell got too bad, Dan imagined the stuff was just a shot of vodka he always saw his hot roommate taking, plugged his nose, and downed the whole bottle.

As he finished the last drops of the nasty liquid, Dan felt the effects immediately. His stomach felt warm and gurgly. A wave of heat and energy washed over his body, causing him to drop the empty bottle and fall to his knees. He suddenly felt rejuvenated, as if he could go outside right this instant and put his pudgy body through a fifty mile run, while at the same time feeling a strong urge to vomit. As Dan tried to stand, he felt another wave of heat coursing through his body. Dan screamed as his veins felt like they would burst out of his skin, falling back to the floor.

Dan moaned again as the heat began to become unbearable, his shirt becoming wet with sweat as he struggled to pry it off. Panting, Dan struggled to remove his shorts too, almost feeling as if he was basking in the hot summer sun. Once his clothes were all off, Dan laid there on the floor, a puddle of sweat surrounding his body. Suddenly, the vomiting urge disappeared, and was replaced by a new one.

"I-I'm horny..." Dan mumbled as he reached down to stroke his hardening cock, a few inches long. He had never been able to get hard, and certainly had never had a wet dream or orgasm, let alone masturbate. But now, Dan couldn't stop himself from touching his cock, and the feeling was electric. It had never felt so good before!

"What is this?!" Dan gasped as his cock seemed to pulse with each stroke. Dan was in heaven, his whole body tingling as he began to play with his nipples, never before having considered that area pleasurable. He didn't even notice the slow growth of hair on his arms, chest, and legs. As Dan began to furiously stroke his lengthening cock, small blonde hairs began to peek out of his head, and a thin patch of pubic hair sprouted. Dan moaned and thrashed about, his cock pulsing with pleasure as it slowly became longer and thicker, surpassing 9 inches and growing to the width of a beer can. Dan began thrusting into his hand as the pulsating head spurted precum like a fountain, dribbling down to his new mess of blonde public hairs that was still growing, becoming an out of control forest reeking of fresh sweat.

"Oh fuck yes" Dan moaned as the rest of him began to grow. Dan's feet began to pulse and crack spreading across the cold tile floor as wild, bushy tufts of bright blonde hair sprouted between his toes and grew up his feet, soon surpassing size 12 as Dan cried out in pleasure. His legs began to swell, becoming thick, toned and covered in sweaty, sticky blonde hair, reeking of male scent and...gnarly waves? Dan began to question how he would know this smell, but the heat overcame him again as his legs pushed him taller to a striking 6'2. His thighs and ass swelled, his hips and waist widening with them as his muscles grew stronger and thicker, his ass cheeks soon swelling to the size of a small chair cushion and bouncing with every move, his hips wider than the doors as he was left with a small, round, bubble butt that shook like jello when he moved. Here too, a jungle of smelly, sweaty blonde hair consumed his ass as Dan screamed in pleasure, his hands kneading the soft flesh as he thrusted his cock into the air.

"Yesssssss" Dan cried, as the heat began to spread up from his crotch to his abdominals. His stomach began to grow outward, the pudge melting away and giving way to a firm, chiseled, rock hard 6-pack abs that glistened with sweat. Dan's nipples became dark, sensitive nubs of flesh, his pecs swollen with muscle as they began to pulse. Screaming at the pleasure coursing through his chest, Dan ran his hands up the chiseled surface of his abs, feeling them become coated in a sheen of rancid sweat that would never truly wash away. As he began to grope and massage his bloating man tits, the blonde jungle from his crotch began to consume his chest and underarms, his armpits turning into a wet, sweaty pit that would forever stink, the blonde hair growing thicker and curlier with each second. Even with his arms resting at his sides, the pits would still spill outwards, a mountain of hairy flesh and sweat. His chest became swollen, the pecs now growing large and round, a pair of thick, perky, sweaty man tits that would shake like water balloons with any movement. The hair on his chest went into overdrive, thickening and spreading as a trail formed up the middle of his back, ensuring any shirt he wore would be ruined by sweat, no matter the number of showers he had.

As Dan continued to massage the still-growing mounds of muscle on his chest, his arms began to pulse with the summer heat. With each wave, Dan screamed in ecstasy, as the veins and muscles underneath his skin swelled, becoming thicker and bigger. The reeking blonde jungle from his crotch and chest, now complete, consumed his biceps, triceps, and forearms, growing into a dense mat that would only grow and grow until the day he died, a permanent, rancid stench that would make him the subject of attention wherever he went. Dan moaned as his arms began to flex, his hands reaching up to the ceiling as his hands swelled, growing longer, larger, and thicker, the hands of a brute. As he used his new hands on his raging cock, he felt the heat once more as his shoulders began to pulse, feeling them widen as his back grew thick and powerful with strong muscle, his broad shoulders bulging with the same power.

"O-oh f-fuck..." Dan moaned, as he flexed his arms, feeling them bulge with raw strength, biceps and triceps thicker than a normal person's thighs, the smelly blonde jungle making them seem even bigger. He breathed deeply as his cock continue to leak, his whole body dripping with sweat, as the heat began to travel up into his neck as it grew thicker and wider, giving him the appearance of the jocks he wanted so much to be like. Dan moaned, feeling his voice drop deeper and deeper into a low, sensual baritone as his Adam's apple pushed outwards, forming a thick, protruding knot.

As Dan reached down to play with his hairy ass, his face began to tingle. His eyes fluttered and closed as his nose cracked pushed outwards, giving the slightly crooked appearance that it had once been broken as his lips grew plumper and fuller as his longer tongue licked their edges. Dan's teeth grew dull and slightly crooked, a perfect set for the dumb surfer boy he was becoming. A low, sensual chuckle came from deep within his chest as his jaw cracked, growing larger and wider as his cheekbones bulged.

"Heheheh" Dan chuckled again, his new, low voice reverberating throughout his body, as blonde stubble began to appear on his face and neck. Dan's hands caressed the smooth, baby-like skin of his face, before it erupted into a wild, dense jungle, covering his entire head. The smell was unbearable, but Dan could do nothing but moan in ecstasy as he raised his muscular arm to huff the sea of hair spilling from his pit. He breathed deeply, smelling the mixture of his rancid male musk, salty sweat, and the ocean, feeling a nostalgic sense of returning home. He moaned again in his new, low voice as his skull began to grow a thick set of curly, sweaty blonde locks, only adding to the smell as the last of his short, black hair changed color and began to spill behind his ears. Dan moaned again, the sound of his voice sending shivers down his spine, as his mouth filled with saliva.

"Fuuuuuck" he moaned, his tongue swirling around in the saliva, causing some to spill out as drool onto his still pulsing cock, earning Dan another wave of pleasure as his greasy locks grew even more curly, reaching the back of his neck. Dan opened his eyes, the pupils now a beautiful aquamarine, and watched his hair grow in the mirror, the light from the window glinting off the golden blonde curls.

"D-do I have long hair?" Dan mumbled, his mouth filled with spit, as he stood up and walked over to the mirror. Dan's cock bobbed with each step, precum flying everywhere, as he stared at his new, sexy, handsome body.

"I-I look like a surfer" Dan said slowly, looking at his long, wet, curly locks, shining like gold in the light. He looked at his strong, muscular arms, the blonde hair shining as it cascaded down to the jungle on his hands, before continuing to his chest. Dan's hands moved to his pecs, feeling them, before his hands traced the outline of his six pack. "I'm strong..." Dan muttered, watching his cock twitch and bob. Dan looked up to the mirror again, his new model-like face staring back at him. He looked at the blonde curls, his thick, wet, red lips, and his aquamarine eyes, feeling the drool dribble down his chin and the scent of the sea and man sweat fill the room.

Suddenly, Dan realized the potion had one more surprise for him as he felt a splitting headache, his hair growing even faster and longer.

"Owowowowwwwww" Dan moaned, grabbing his head and bending forward. His hair grew and grew, his hands running through the wavy curls, slick with grease, salt, and sweat. He looked in the mirror again, noticing a subtle shift in his eyes as he quickly realized what was happening. "Wait, n-no-" he started, as he quickly began going over calculus facts from his advanced college course, before the pain became unbearable.

Dan cried out, the words and math in his head becoming more complicated and foreign as the pain slowly morphed into a gentle, pleasant vibration. The words and math slowly slipped from his mind, his once brilliant brain turning into a dumb, empty hole, as it became harder and harder for Dan to picture even basic metal math. "Fuuuuck" Dan moaned again as the pleasant vibration consumed his whole being. "Fuckin A..." Dan whispered in his new, deep timbre as complex thoughts became harder and harder to imagine, almost feeling like he was high. He chuckled again, as the words and math disappeared from his mind. "N-nooo, I'm dumb..." Dan slurred, his voice sounding slow and drunk.

Dan blinked and chuckled, as his mind turned completely empty, only capable of simple, primal thoughts and urges. "I'm horny..." Dan growled, his voice sounding like the sexy, rugged surfer he had always dreamed of being. His new, handsome, chiseled face broke out into a stupid grin, a look that would become the new himbo's default expression. "But the fuck am I doing here..." Dan chuckled again as his dorm room began to shift and morph. He blinked and giggled as the white, clean walls turned to a worn, brown wood. He blinked and laughed as his desk shifted and molded, becoming a simple bed frame and dresser, his computer changing into a surfboard and a cooler.

"Oh fuck yessssssss" Dan moaned, his cock pulsing and dripping precum. "I'm at the beach!" Dan cried, looking around his new room. There was a small, circular window where his door had once been, allowing the sunlight to illuminate his room. Even the time on the clock changed as the heat accosted Dan one final time, this time in his vocal cords.

"Owowowow" Dan groaned and coughed as the final effects took place. His vocal cords became even more raw, coarse, and masculine, his voice dropping an octave lower. "What the fuck, mate" he gasped, his accent changing as he spoke. Gone was his once boring, nondescript American accent, replaced by a low, gruff, sexy Aussie drawl, his words slurred together and slow as he vigorously jacked his still-hard cock, his blonde pubes caked with sweat.

"Oh fuck, oh shit, uhhhh" Dan moaned, his balls beginning to pulse as the heat traveled from his neck down his spine. "G-gonna...cummm..." Dan moaned, feeling the pressure build in his nuts. He felt them begin to pulse, and then he exploded, the biggest, loudest orgasm of his life erupting from his cock, the stream of cum enormous as the windows fogged up and the floor began to soak. His cock pulsed and pulsed, a seemingly endless river of cum.

"Ughhh" Dan grunted, as his orgasm finally began to subside. "Awww shit, my dick's really fuckin big" Dan giggled, the sound reverberating through his room and causing the glass in the window to vibrate. "Mmmm, but my balls are so heavy" he groaned, cupping his fat nuts and letting the weight settle.

As he heard the final change, a small crackling noise coming from his brain, he realized the beach was gone, his old, boring life was gone, and a whole new world had opened up for him. He would never forget his old life, but it would always seem to Dan as a distant memory. Dan giggled, as his brain finally stopped working, replaced with a dumb, happy, empty void, incapable of stress or worry.

"Fuck yeah, mate!" Dan cried, his stupid, happy grin returning. "I'm a surfer dude!" he yelled, his accent slurred. He jumped around his new beachside shack, the dumb himbo bouncing around the room. He was naked, and the heat from the sun warmed his sweaty, blonde, hairy body. He breathed deeply once more, the salty, fresh air filling his lungs, the scent of the ocean mixing with the pungent smell of his own rancid, musky male scent, before walking to his dresser, his cock still hard and leaking. "Man, I gotta get my trunks on if I'm gonna score tonight" he giggled. Dan's mind was empty and happy, only able to process the most simple of thoughts, and that was good enough for him.

As he grabbed his favorite swim trunks and slipped them on, he walked back over to the window, looking out onto the beach. There were hot girls and guys, all scantily clad and tan, running about, playing in the waves and lounging. He could feel the sand between his toes, and could almost taste the cool, crisp water of the sea. He was finally free of his old life, and now he was here, the happiest himbo surfer there ever was.

#dumber #himbo tf #male tf #surfer tf

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fanfiction4sooya · 11 months

Text

Just a quick lesson (Yunjin x F!Reader)

I wrote this on a 30 minute rampage so it's a little rushed but... yeah, I finally felt like writing again. Hope some of you like it!! 💖💖

tw: cursing, dry humping, fingering, a little bit of dubcon. cunnilingus, yunjin is a little mean, nerdy reader, etc etc;

🌸.

"Okay nerd, I'll teach you a few things" Yunjin rolled her eyes, looking you up and down as you sat on the edge of her bed.

She was one of the popular girls at college and was definitely the meanest of them, literally forcing you to be her private tutor in return of not making your life a living hell.

She enjoyed making you blush and stutter talking about the most random topics ever, and that's exactly how she found out you had never intimately touched anther girl, even though you really wanted to.

"W-what?" Your eyes widened as she got up, stopping in front of you. Her eyes had a certain humour, this specific glint. You felt yourself shiver. "You are joking, right?" You weakly laughed, trying to brush that idea off.

"Why would I joke about fucking you?" That humour left her eyes and now only that mischievous glint remained. She held your chin between her index and thumb, lifting your face towards her.

She was so much taller and intimidating, specially because she was always so nice until she wasn't anymore. Her red hair made her look even fiercer, sexier. Of course you looked at her with lust, you just never thought she would actually reciprocate.

You tried to avoid her gaze but her long nails dug deeper into your cheeks, pulling your eyes back to her. She bent forward, her sly smile frighteningly inviting.

"I don't think we should do this..." You whispered, gulping. Your felt yourself getting wet against your own will. You had to resist her at all costs, specially because you really thought she was kidding.

"I think you saying we shouldn't makes me wanna fuck you even more" She said in a low tone, her eyes darkening before she finally made her lips connect to yours. Oh she was such a fuckboy.

Ok. It was happening.

Her kiss was rough but so good it made you moan as soon as her tongue slightly grazed yours, her plump lips felt hot and soft against yours.

"I'll make sure to help you learn well" She pushed your face to the side to kiss your neck and you suffocated a moan, too embarrassed to actually do it. She immediately stopped, staring at your face. "I wanna hear you" You rolled your eyes when she kissed your jaw, nibbling at it.

You lightly nodded, not being able to deny her request.

She pulled your dress over your head and now you were only on your panties, your semi naked body on display for her. You felt your cheeks grow hot, closing your eyes as she pushed you to lay on her bed. She quickly pulled her shorts off, straddling you next and going back to kiss your lips, dry humping you.

"Oh my god" You moaned when you felt that friction against your hard clit, your hands immediately going to her hips. She smiled against your lips, biting them.

"feels good, right?" She said, humping a little harder and you almost screamed.

"Yunjin...too good, please" You felt yourself getting wetter, and she quickly worked on discarding both your panties.

"If you think that feels good, wait until our clits really touch" She exhaled sharply when she positioned her clit over yours. She plucked two fingers inside your mouth and you obviously accepted them, coating them with your saliva.

She collected it and smeared against your pussy, spreading your wetness on it too and making you toss your head back, arching your head off the bed when your clits finally touched.

"fuck!" You exclaimed when you felt her thrust her hips forward, closing your eyes.

"Shit, your pussy feels so good" She said through gritted teeth, holding your hips with those big hands to pull you into her harder.

The obscene wet sounds reverberated through her room and you could feel your heartbeat on your ears. Fuck, it felt liberating, wild, insane. You knew that having sex with a woman was an out of body experience because of what experienced women said, but this? It was another level of pleasure.

"Yunjin please, please" You asked her for something, anything. She got off of you, promptly laying on her stomach to eat you out. "Oh my..." You couldn't finish the sentence because her mouth sucking your clit like made your brain short circuit.

"Fucking moan for me, baby. I wanna hear you" She said, adding two fingers in one go inside you; You glitched, completely lost. That feeling was too much, your pussy dripping so much you almost felt embarrassed but couldn't really bring yourself to it.

"I'm gonna cum" You closed your eyes, pulling her even closer to your core. She fucked you ever harder, sucking your clit at the same time.

You came screaming, tossing yourself against the mattress in a wild state, clenching hard against her fingers. She took them off of you, licking your pussy from your slit to your clit and you basically screamed louder, trying to close your legs around her head. She smiled, getting up to sit by your side, pulling you to sit as well.

"Now it's my turn, pretty girl" She said in a husky tone, her chin glistening with your wetness and she kissed you again to make you taste yourself.

She took your fingers to her lips, spitting on them and smiling at your awe expression when she took them to her own wet cunt and running them up and down to scatter her juices. Your body trembled when she pushed them inside, her breath hitching for a moment.

"That's it..." She smiled at you and you felt yourself melt at that. "fuck, your fingers feel good" She held your forearm to keep that pace and you kissed her lips in a sudden bold move. "Eat me out" She said against your lips and you sort of panicked. "I'll teach you, don't worry nerd" You smiled, that stupid nickname finally starting to grow on you.

You positioned yourself between her open legs and she put your hair to the side, her eyes scanning your face.

"you look so pretty..." You mumbled in a shy tone, literally staring at her glistening pussy. She clenched so hard, your innocent face looked so pretty.

She wanted to absolutely ruin you.

When your tongue made contact with her pussy, she didn't even moan just grunted, holding herself back to not fuck your face as she pleased at that very moment.

"That's it pretty girl, lick it just like that" She said, caressing your hair. "You are doing so good for a nerd who never fucked a woman..." She scoffed, pulling your fingers to fuck her again.

A million things went through your head, but the main one was that you really wanted to make her feel good.

"Please, use me..." you pleaded, looking up at her beautiful face.

That was enough for her to lose it, pushing you to the mattress to straddle your face and fully sit on it.

"Oh, I knew it would take less than a month for you to be on my bed" She basically spat, fucking herself on your face hard and fast. "I'm gonna fucking cum on your pretty face, baby" She tasted delicious, her clit brushing your nose and her slit completely fitting your mouth.

You drank from her as if you haven't had anything to drink in months. It felt sinful, delicious. God, you were screwed.

She kept that pace, not even caring if it was suffocating you or not, just trying to get off. She was burning, going insane against your hot tongue as she held you by the hair to scream that she was coming, completely tensing up over you.

Her body was shaking so hard that you felt the need to hold her, your own cunt wet again because of how hot it felt having the Huh Yunjin cum on your face like that.

She got off your face, going back to kiss you. She held your cheeks digging her nails into them again to make you look at her. Her pupils were completely blown, her eyes dark and hungry.

"I knew you were a fast learner, nerd" She pulled into another searing kiss, her free hand roaming on your body again.

Oh you were in for the best lesson ever.

#gxg smut #le sserafim smut #le sserafim yunjin #yunjin smut #yunjin x you #yunjin x female reader

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shipping-all-ships · 5 months

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Lu Ten, 30 and 171 cm: By order of your Fire Lord, I demand you stop getting taller than me! Zuko, 20 and 187 cm: Azula, 18 and 180 cm: Grow then.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #fire lord lu ten au #lu ten #azula #zuko #headcanon for height and age differences #lu ten misses when they were younger and hadn't had their final growth spurts #the only good thing ozai ever gave his kids were his tall genes #iroh cursed his son to be short for life #for those who can't metric: 171 is 5'6. 183 is 6'1. and 180 is 5'9.

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suguwu · 9 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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4ln-stay8 · 10 months

Text

Getting caught

>summary: You and Lando are in a secret relationship and get caught making out

>author’s note: The last 2 ones were decent so I made another one… I still don’t know what Im doing

>warning: fluff ig

You were really excited about today. You friends, Max and Lando, invited you to join them on set where a new video will be made. You weren’t going to be in the actual video, but your friends thought it would be fun to have you on set with them.

You, Lando and Max were now navigating chaotically through the corridors of the Quadrant headquarters, the echoes of your laughter reflecting all the years of friendship between you.

Unbeknownst to your other friends, you and Lando shared a secret romance, carefully concealed beneath the veneer of your friendship. The decision of keeping things secret wasn’t really easy, but you were very concerned about Max finding out.

You always feared that one day the friendship all three of you had would come to an end due to your feelings about Lando.

Growing up, Max, who was like a brother to you, always warned both you and Lando that no one was allowed to get feelings for each other.

It was stupid if you think about it know but back then, back when you were kids, it was a serious deal. You somehow always thought that Max was still holding onto that rule you made when you were kids and the fear was getting to you.

You were often overthinking and when you and Lando got the guts to confess your crush on each other, things weren’t going great for you.

Your instant thought was about Max and the rule he made back then and the fear was getting the best of you. The fear of losing Max, the fear of being the reason Lando loses Max and the fear of losing Lando all came rushing to you.

Lando noticed you were stressed out so he promised you that all your fears would never come true. He suggested on keeping things secret and talking things slow and you’ll eventually find a way to tell your friends about it.

Now back to where we left off, the three of you finally made it to the room the set was placed. There, Ria, Aarav, Niran, Ethan and the quadrant filming crew were waiting for you to arrive.

“Oh thank God you’re here… I thought you wouldn’t make it” said Ria relieved that they won’t have to reschedule

“Oh please Ria, we were only 30 minutes late. We had to pick Y/N up and she took a lifetime to get ready” said Max teasing you and ruffling your hair

Lando burst into laughter at Max’s comment making everyone in the room laugh.

“Oh shut it you muppet! I didn’t took that long. We are late because Max is too short and can’t keep up” you said sticking your tongue out to Max causing him to roll his eyes.

The truth was that Max was slightly taller than you but that didn’t stopped you from joining everyone into teasing him about his height.

“We’re going to get ready to film, you can stay on that chair behind the cameras. It won’t take long” said Lando showing you a chair behind the sea of cameras. You just nodded and made your way to the chair.

Everyone was into their place ready to start the video. They were supposed to make two members teams and compete with each other. There were a set of tasks and the first team that finished the task got a point, the winner being the team with most points.

After filming for a while, it was time for lunch break. Everyone was trying to decide what they would get and from where to order some food.

During this chaos Lando find the time to come to you. He approached you and smiled sweetly when he got next to you.

“You hungry? Max is ordering some food for the team, you want something?” he asked you softly

“Yeah, I’ll get whatever you’re getting” you said smiling

“I’ll go tell Max. After that I’ll meet you in the hallway. Be subtle” he said quietly giving you a wink

You made sure that you left the set without being seen and you patiently waited for Lando to come. Once he was out of the room as well he took your hand and started to drag you after him. He finally found an empty meeting room and pulled you inside.

“What are we doing here Lan?” you asked confused

“I missed you so much! You look so beautiful today and I just couldn’t resist kissing you anymore” he softly whispered while looking at your lips leaning in.

His pink soft lips soon met yours, dancing in perfect sync. God how much you love his kisses. Timed stopped as both of you enjoyed each other! The soft kiss soon turned into a make out session. You just couldn’t resist each other.

As the rest of the crew took a breather, enjoying the food that now arrived, Max notice that something was missing, more like someone.

“Did you guys saw Lando and Y/n? Their food is getting cold” asked Max looking around the room for his friends

“I honestly haven’t seen them since we ordered the food” said Ethan shrugging his shoulders.

“Imma go look for them” Max quietly said before getting up and out the door.

After a while Max stumbled upon the clandestine rendezvous, eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of you and Lando entwined in a kiss. His heart raced, realizing that the unspoken tension between you was no secret to him alone.

Unbeknownst to both you and Lando, Max noticed your feelings for each other long before you even did. He was subtly trying to get you guys together without really intervening.

Max in a whirlwind of emotions, confronted the two of you, unleashing a torrent of words that had long been held back.

“You two? Since when?” He said confused not knowing when did this happened and why he didn’t picked on it.

Lando and Y/n pulled away in shocked now that their secret was exposed. They look at each other than back at Max trying to find the words.

“A few months” you whispered looking down trying not to start overthinking it again

“Fucking finally! I didn’t know how much I could keep hinting it out to you” said Max laughing

“Wait what?” said Lando confused at his friends confession

“You aren’t mad?” you asked him, concern written all over your face

“Why would I be mad? I knew you guys were in love with each other for years now… I was just waiting to see how much time it would take this muppet to finally grow a pair and ask you out” said Max laughing

“But the pact?” you asked confused

“You mean the one we made when we were like 8 and we thought that girls/boys were gross? Come on Y/n, you weren’t actually still worried about it, were you?” Max asked now serious

“Of course she was you muppet, you know how she gets when it comes to possibly upsetting one of us. Thats the only reason we hid our relationship for so long” said Lando slightly revolted while pulling you into a tight hug knowing how embarrassed you got.

It wad stupid to actually worry about something like this and you know it, but in all those years of befriending the two brits drivers you never joked about upsetting them.

You loved them a lot and simply the thought of them being mad at you got you all teary. Of course you were worried about that stupid pact, you didn’t know how Max was feeling about it and you weren’t ready to find out. It turns out that you were afraid of nothing all along.

“I’m sorry that I made you believe that you couldn’t tell me about it” said Max softly trying to find your gaze

“Im sorry I was stupid to still hold onto that pact we made” you said shyly

“Well y/n this muppet is still more stupid then you so its fine. Now come on, the food is getting cold” said Max laughing and causing both of you to laugh with him

All three of you went back to the set where all your other friends were waiting for you. You dropped the news to them as well while you, Lando and Max finished your food.

The Quadrant video continued, capturing not just the staged antics for the camera but the genuine bonds that held this group together. As the laughter echoed through the headquarters, you and Lando were no longer burdened by secrecy and walked hand in hand into the next chapter of your intertwined lives.

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando x reader #lando norris x female reader #lando norris fic #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine

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woman-for-women · 1 year

Text

"For years, Sharissa Derricott, 30, had no idea why her body seemed to be failing. At 21, a surgeon replaced her deteriorated jaw joint. She’s been diagnosed with degenerative disc disease and fibromyalgia, a chronic pain condition. Her teeth are shedding enamel and cracking.

None of it made sense to her until she discovered a community of women online who describe similar symptoms and have one thing in common: all had taken a drug called Lupron.

Thousands of parents chose to inject their daughters with the drug, which was approved to shut down puberty in young girls but also is commonly used off-label to help short kids grow taller.

The drug’s pediatric version comes with few warnings about long-term side effects. It is also used in adults to fight prostate cancer or relieve uterine pain and the Food and Drug Administration has warnings on the drug’s adult labels about a variety of side effects.

More than 10,000 adverse event reports filed with the FDA reflect the experiences of women who’ve taken Lupron. The reports describe everything from brittle bones to faulty joints.

In interviews and in online forums, women who took the drug as young girls or initiated a daughter’s treatment described harsh side effects that have been well-documented in adults.

Women who used Lupron a decade or more ago to delay puberty or grow taller described the short-term side effects listed on the pediatric label: pain at the injection site, mood swings and headaches. Yet they also described conditions that usually affect people much later in life. A 20-year-old from South Carolina was diagnosed with osteopenia, a thinning of the bones, while a 25 year-old from Pennsylvania has osteoporosis and a cracked spine. A 26 year-old in Massachusetts needed a total hip replacement. A 25-year-old in Wisconsin, like Derricott, has chronic pain and degenerative disc disease.

“It just feels like I’m being punished for basically being experimented on when I was a child,” said Derricott, of Lawton, Okla. “I’d hate for a child to be put on Lupron, get to my age and go through the things I have been through.”

PBS - Women fear drug they used to halt puberty led to health problems (2017)

#w4w post #w4w infographic #stats #dysphoria #dysphoric #gender dysphoria #feminism #feminist #lupron #puberty blockers #transition #hrt

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wandafiction · 7 months

Text

Jealous

Warnings 18+: Smut. Thigh Riding (R Receiving), Fingering (R Receiving), Oral (R Receiving), Top Wanda, Bottom Reader.

You can feel them all turn to look at you as you walk down the entrance steps to the Stark party that is being held in the tower. Yet you know they aren't looking at you, they are looking at the goddess of a woman who is standing on your left; her arm linked with yours. Her thigh length black dress, that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you know for sure her perfectly sculpted body is what people's eyes are feasting on. Her back is completely open for the world to see since the dress is a halterneck with the deepest v neck you've ever seen, it practically reaches the top of her belly button.

You were in a simple grey suit that had been tailored to fit you perfectly. Of course Wanda loves the fact she could see your muscles outlined perfectly in the suit. Your eyes wander over her figure, as the rest of the party removes theirs, your eyes so focused on what you see you don't see Wanda turn her head to look at you.

"My eyes are up here my love." Wanda uses the edge of her finger to lift your chin, your eyes meeting instantly as you smile softly at her. You are both a similar height, you being a couple inches taller so when Wanda lifts your chin you know you most definitely got caught staring.

"I know darling, I am simply admiring what is mine. You look so very sexy and ravishing and I believe everyone else in the room can see that too." You embrace the fact she caught you staring, and it makes a shy blush grow on her face and up to her ears; you love the way you still have that effect on her even after the 2 years you've been together.

Wanda turns her head to look around the room as you bring your right cheek to rest on her right one as you turn your body facing away from everybody else in the room. As you see her eyes nervously flicking to all the different people and start fiddling with her rings.

"We don't have to stay long, just 30 minutes and if you say the word we can leave." You move to stand in front of Wanda, your hands rubbing up and down her arms and you see her relax.

"Do you think it is too much?" She gestures to the dress, looking down as her hands run down the skirt. Copying Wanda's actions you lift her chin with your finger and thumb.

"If it is making you uncomfortable darling then don't be afraid to change, but it's not too much in my eyes. Well maybe it is too much cloth to be on you and the way you are wearing it. It would look so much better on the floor, while I have your hands tied to the bed." You smile when you see Wanda flush red her hand coming into contact with your chest as you chuckle.

"Don't start. We are here for our friend. It's Nat and Maria's engagement party so no funny business." You raise a brow and Wanda hits your chest giving you a pointed look. "We are celebrating with them, clothes on, on the dance floor with drinks in our hands."

"Of course M'lady." You turn back around to face the room full of people holding your arm out so Wanda can hook hers around yours.

"I love you. And you look very sexy as well my love. Handsome even, the suit just makes you look very dapper."

"Shall we." You gesture to the room who are finally back to concentrating on the party.

"We shall."

♤♡◇♧

"Who's that grinding up on your wife?" Wanda, turns to see who Yelena is pointing to.

“Firstly, she hasn’t put a ring on it yet. Secondly, I think her name is Daisy. She knows Phil and Phil is a good friend of Maria’s. I've only seen her once or twice before.” Wanda’s eyes trained on the two of you as Daisy pushes her back against your front, you keeping your hands to yourself showing no interest but also not pushing her away and wanting to seem rude.

“Well she is all up on your girl there Wanda. Aren’t you going to do something about it.” Wanda takes a quick glance at Yelena before looking back to see Daisy has now turned around and is whispering in your ear.

“What am I meant to do, go over there and act like the crazy girlfriend that drags her away. No. I am not doing that. Anyway, I can see from here Y/n isn’t interested but Daisy just isn’t reading the signals.” Wanda tries to shrug it off but can’t help the pang of jealousy that courses through her when she sees you laughing at something Daisy says.

“You know, I always thought you would be the controlling one in the relationship but now I see it for what it is.” Wanda’s head turns on a swivel to see Yelena smirking at her.

“Oh yeah, what’s that then.” Wanda raises a brow in question.

“I reckon you're just a big ole pillow princess and Y/n treats you like royalty.” Wanda chokes on her drink a little, causing Yelena to laugh. “I take that as a yes then.”

“No, not at all.” Yelena gives her a look and Wanda sighs. “Okay so it’s mostly true but I have my moments.”

“Oh yeah?” Yelena knew what she was doing, spurring Wanda on, she was in on your plan. You wanted to see how far you could push Wanda and how she would react. When you told Yelena she only wanted to add to the plan knowing that if she said the right things Wanda would react.

Wanda stays silent for a minute, turning back to look at you, her eyes trained on your hand that is now holding Daisy’s as you spin her under her arm. Wanda misses the smirk Yelena sends your way when you look over to the two of them, and you definitely don’t miss the way Wanda clenches her jaw. Wanda watches as you lean down to whisper into Daisy’s ear, the latter’s eyes move to look directly at Wanda as she laughs at whatever you have told her. Daisy’s hands snake around your neck, you doing nothing to stop it, pulling your body closer as your hands hover over her waist; not quite touching it. Yelena’s eyes flick between you and Wanda, as she watches Wanda re-position herself to get a complete view of your antics.

You take a risk by placing your hands on Daisy’s waist, spinning her around so her back is against your front and her hands hold onto the back of your neck. You bend down, placing your cheek against Daisy’s as her head tilts back to rest on your shoulder. Wanda sees you throw your head back as you laugh, but her eyes are trained on the way yours and Daisy’s hips move together with the music. Wanda turns around placing her drink on the table, standing up as she straightens out her dress. Yelena’s hand on hers stops her from storming over, her brows scrunching when she sees Yelena’s smirk.

“So is this one of those moments?” Wanda takes a few seconds to register what Yelena was asking, but as soon as she remembers the conversation they were just having she does a quick nod.

“It is.” Yelena simply smirks more as she lets go of her hand and watches as Wanda heads towards the dance floor.

“Good luck Y/n.” Yelena whispers to herself as she downs the rest of Wanda’s drink, not wanting the alcohol to go to waste.

Wanda catches Daisy's eye as the latter spins around to face you, smiling at you with a small curtsey as she leaves you alone. Before you even get a chance to turn around to meet the eyes of your girlfriend, her front is pressed to your back and her hands land on your hips. She pulls your hips left to right in time with hers, as she gets a rhythm going with the music, one of her hands moving to untuck your shirt. Her hand snakes under your shirt moving up to your abs where she starts gently scratching at them, her other hand keeping your hips against hers. Wanda moves her head so her lips are pressed against your right ear, your head tilting to the side slightly, as she drags her hand from your waist to gently hold your throat putting no pressure on it but you can feel her skin on yours.

"You're being naughty darling." She squeezes your neck slightly, your head tilting back to rest on her shoulder as a gasp passes your lips; a shiver going down your spine. You move a hand to hold the back of Wanda’s neck, the other holding onto the back of her thigh.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You act coy and in response Wanda pulls your ear between her teeth as her nails scratch at your abs.

“You’re mine and only mine.”

Before you can even reply Wanda uses her power to teleport the two of you to your room where she pushes your back against the door, her lips ghosting the skin of your neck, her hot breath causing goosebumps to form and you feel her smirk at the sight. You gasp as Wanda suddenly sinks her teeth into your pulse point, sucking on the spot before soothing it with her tongue the whine that leaves your lips surprises the both of you.

“Oh, do you like that darling? Do you like it when I mark you, to show everyone you belong to me?” She flicks her wrist and both of your clothes are suddenly on the floor behind her, Wanda chuckling into your neck as she feels your hands grip tightly onto her hips.

Your right hand moves up to grip her hair as you pull on it to tilt her head back, a small moan leaving her lips at the roughness. You bring your lips down to her ear, her hands moving to hold onto your waist as she pushes her thigh between yours and you start rolling your hips against it. You moan Wanda’s name directly into her ear, earning a moan of yours in return as you lean your head back against the door, your hips picking up speed as the pressure on your core from her thigh is working wonders in building up your arousal.

“What do you want from me detka? Tell me what you want.” Wanda uses her hands on your waist to stop you from moving against her thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the loss as you look into her lust filled eyes wanting to wipe that playful smirk off her face.

“I want you to claim me.”

“Fuck yourself on my thigh and I will decide if you deserve to cum with the strap.” Wanda keeps her hands on your hips, pressing her body against you more to trap you between her and the door as you start to roll your hips as she pushes her thigh back up to your core.

“Fuck.” Your hands move up her body to snake around Wanda’s neck pulling her face into your neck where she starts to nip and bite at the skin leaving a small trail of blue and purple bruises as you grind your core against her thigh.

“You’re doing so well for me baby.” Wanda breathes into your ear as a pool of wetness starts building up, as your core continues to roll against her thigh.

“I need…” Your words are interrupted by a moan as Wanda’s hands pull your hips down, tensing her thigh as she takes control of your movements for a few seconds moving your hips roughly as you moan her name again.

“What do you need, detka?” Wanda smirks into your neck as you move one of your hands down her body, grabbing ahold of hers and bringing it down to your core. She moves her thigh away from your core, but before you can complain she immediately replaces it with her hand but she doesn’t move; the teasing smirk on her face tells you all you need to know.

“I need you to fuck me.” You gasp as Wanda uses two fingers to press against your clit, starting to roll the sensitive bundle of nerves softly. “More….please….Wanda I need more.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. What did I say?” She moves her lips back up to your ear as her fingers run through your folds, her thumb now on your clit as she starts rolling her thumb against it. “Answer me detka what did I say?”

“Get myself off.” You bite your lips harshly, swallowing a moan, as her two fingers push into your entrance slowly and without warning. Wanda raises her eyebrow, waiting for you to finish your answer to her question. “Get myself off…on…your thigh.”

“And yet here I am with my fingers inside you.” She starts by pulling her fingers most of the way out and then harshly thrusting them back inside a loud moan leaving your lips. “I’m the one doing all of the work, now I think I'm going to have to punish you just a little for not listening. Maybe a little denial…Is that okay?”

You smile softly at the question knowing Wanda will never do anything without your consent, you move your hands up to cup her face as she continues to slowly pump her fingers in and out of you. You bring her lips to yours, brushing them against each other before gasping against them as she curls her fingers suddenly pressing against the spot she knows gets you going easily.

“It’s more than okay.” You press your lips against hers in a heated kiss, Wanda swallowing your moans as she continues to curl her fingers inside you. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

She pulls her fingers completely out of you, a loud whine being pulled from you making Wanda chuckle once again as she drags her tongue from your ear all the way back down to your pulse point, the spot already sensitive from her nibbling at it earlier but when she once against nibs and sucks at it you can’t help the guttural moan that passes your lips. Your eyes roll to the back of your head a loud moan, almost a scream, leaving you mouth agape as Wanda slams three fingers into your core, her thrusts quick and rough; your back arching away from the door at the intrusion.

Your hands move up to hold onto her shoulders to support yourself as your body rocks against the door at her harsh thrusts, you gasps and moans getting louder as you get closer and closer to toppling over the edge. Just as your walls start to clench around Wanda’s fingers she pulls them out and removes her thumb from your clit, a desperate whine passes your lips as your head tilts forward and you rest your forehead against Wanda’s.

“Please baby. I was so close. I want to cum. Please make me cum.” You never really begged but you know how much it will get Wanda riled up and get you what you want, and you smirk to yourself when you hear the moan leave her lips telling you your plan has worked.

Wanda doesn’t say anything but instead trails her lips trail down your neck all the way to your left breast, nipping and sucking at every inch of skin as she goes, not caring about how many marks she leaves on you. It’s not like you are against it either, your hand moving back into Wanda’s hair as her lips wrap around your left nipple, her teeth grazing gently over the already hardened bud. Using your grip in her hair, you pull her against you more and she sucks gently one the nipple as her left hand moves up to massage your neglected breast, her thumb and finger rolling over your other nipple. A moan leaves your mouth at the stimulation as Wanda pulls away with your nipple in her mouth releasing it with a pop before trailing kisses to the valley of your breasts sucking on the side of the right one leaving yet another mark.

“Mine.” She moans against your skin as she takes your right nipple into her mouth, her left hand moving to your hip as her right one takes the other breast and starts to massage it making sure they both get attention.

Once she is satisfied with the attention she has given to your breasts she moves down to sit on her knees, her chin resting on your right hip as she looks up at you from below; your hand still in her hair as the other one rests against the door. Her hands trail up and down the back of your thighs, moving up to your butt and giving it a small squeeze causing your back to arch away from the door for only a second. Her right hand snakes up and around to your stomach pushing you back against the door as her left hand lifts your right thigh over her shoulder then her arm wraps around the top of it to keep it in place.

Her lips trail up the inside of your thigh before pressing a feather light kiss to your lips, your head hitting the door as the pit in your stomach only grows, the pleasure turning towards the point of pain. It’s as if Wanda sense the shift in your breathing the way you let out a small whimper causes her to smirk against your thigh, but she knows your body just as well as you do maybe even more because the moment her tongue licks through your folds a guttural moan leaves your lips and you pull her closer to you using the grip you have on her hair.

She moans into your core at the rough hair pull, her fingers digging into your thigh as her other hand scratches down your toned stomach. She rolls your clit with her tongue, tilting her head back slightly so she can look up at you seeing your chest move rapidly with your heavy breaths, small moans leaving your lips mixed with her name once in a while. She lets her teeth graze against your sensitive clit, your grip in her hair tightening causing her to groan in pain but you know that it only turns her on more so you do it again this time tilting your head to look down at her.

In retaliation she pulls her mouth away from your core breathing cool air onto your sensitive clit and you gasp as your hips roll, your core touching nothing but thin air. Wanda chuckles to herself before bringing her mouth back up to your core, her tongue dancing around your entrance before deciding that she has teased you enough pushing the strong muscle into your entrance. Her hand that is on your thigh moves up towards your core, her thumb stroking the inside of your leg as she does so.

Your moans and sighs of pleasure echo around the room as she continues to push her tongue inside you, your back defiantly arching away from the door, her hand on your abdomen doing nothing to stop the movement. When she feels your walls start to flutter and your moans turn silent, your mouth falling open in a pleasurable grimace she presses her thumb against your clit. You crash head first into a blistering orgasm, your body completely coming away from the door as your free hand holds onto the door frame as you see stars and you lose all feeling for a few seconds.

With your eyes closed and no control over your rapidly beating heart and sore lungs you feel the lightest of touches slowly creeping up your body, then to your neck, along your jaw and finally to your lips. It takes you a few seconds to return the kiss, your mind still recovering from the orgasm Wanda had just given you, removing your hand from her hair you use it to brush the baby hairs off your own forehead. Your eyes flutter open as Wanda’s lips travel around your face, leaving small pecks along your cheeks, eyes, nose and forehead as you slowly recover. When you finally manage to open your eyes you smile at the sight of Wanda holding you steadily against the door with a soft smile on her face.

“Are you okay?” All you can do is nod, but it is confirmation enough for her. “Let's get you cleaned up and in bed, you must be worn out.”

You don’t say anything but allow Wanda to pull you into the ensuite, sitting you down on the toilet seat as she grabs some towels and places them on the sink. She makes her way back over to you, bending down in front of you with her hands on your knees. You smiley goofily, the last of the fuzziness in your brain still slowly fading.

“Do you want a bath or shower?” You hold up two fingers, still not trusting your voice and Wanda giggles as she stands up hoisting you up with her and making sure that your legs stop wobbling before pulling you towards the shower.

Using her magic she opens the shower door and turns it on so both of her hands can stay on your waist keeping you up. Once the steam starts filling the shower she gently pulls you under the warm stream of water. You let out a relaxed sigh as your head tilts backwards letting the water run down the front of your neck and body. Wanda’s hands leave your body for a second, her magic replacing them as she grabs the bottle of moisturising body wash. Her magic pushes you out of the water slightly, but the steam is doing enough to keep you warm. Your eyes close at the feeling of wanda’s hands back on your skin as she gently massages at your thighs, helping to release some of the tension that has built up in them. Your head flops forward onto her shoulder as she stands in front of you, her hands now moving up the side of your body and around to your back.

“Nearly done baby, and then we can head to bed.”

“Mkay, I love you.” Wanda smiles softly, not that you could see it as you bury your head into the crook of her neck as she drags you both back under the water, the soap running off your body as her hands weave through your hair. She chooses to leave the hair washing, knowing you washed it before the party, but continues the act of weaving her hands through your hair knowing how it relaxes you and practically turns you docile.

Once she has deemed you cleaned and cared for she pulls you out of the shower, once again using her magic to turn the shower off and wrap your towels around you. As she pulls you into the bedroom the magic dances around your bodies and towels drying you off, and braiding your hair so it doesn’t annoy you in your sleep. Your body practically falls into bed when you feel the edge of it touch your knees, Wanda giggling as she pulls the covers from under your body and turning you on your back so she can gently lay on top of you.

“Is this okay?” She asks quietly knowing you might still be sore and sensitive that her being on top of you may be uncomfortable.

“Perfectly so.” Her head finds home in the crook of your neck as your arms wrap around her torso pulling her closer, her legs either side of your waist as you both get comfortable.

“Thank you for playing along.” You move a hand up and down her bare back, gently scratching at her skin as she whispers between the two of you.

“Well you said you wanted to be top for once and I wanted to see what a jealous you could be like.” You tilt your head to peck her forehead as she sighs in content.

“How was a jealous me?”

“Definitely want to see more of her.” Wanda leans up slightly to look down at you, her eyes flicking left to right as she looks into yours.

“Does this mean I might get to take control more often?”

“We will just have to see how things play out won't we babygirl?” A smirk plays on your lips as Wanda’s pupils dilate at the pet name. “I think I should reward you for making me feel so good. What do you say?”

“I would say you're tired.” She tries to sound authoritative but her voice is breathy and it only makes you smirk more. “And I just did the whole aftercare thing.”

“Well I'm wide awake and who said that i have to move a muscle.”

Wanda raises a questioning eyebrow, your hand slowly snakes up her back to her neck and you pull her face down towards yours. You take her bottom lip between her teeth watching her eyes darken as they look into yours. You release her lip with a pop, your hand moving to the front of her neck where you apply a small amount of pressure.

“Why don’t you grab your favourite strap for me so I can watch you fuck yourself on it.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #jealousy

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