#IT'S MINE NOW AND I'M DEDICATING IT TO YEOSHIN AND THAT'S FINAL WHO'S TO SAY I CAN'T CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS IN THE MIDDLE OF FEBRUARY

[mythvoiced]

Yeo takes Shin’s hand and tugs, marching all the way toward the nearest mistletoe. He puts them both right under it, and without saying anything, he points up so Dokkaebi sort of gets the gist of it, the fox’s intentions, before using both hands to cup Shin’s cheeks; Yeo shamelessly leaning in. “How come you’re even prettier from this angle? Ah—” And then, he starts: Pecking Shin’s lips, one after the other; warm, fond, little kisses; a smile written on his face with every small pause. (I usually don’t tend to send holiday asks BUT YEO WOULDN’T LET ME LIVE WIEDHEHD, I HOPE THIS IS OKAY, also no need to answer right away or anything of the sort, IN FACT YOU CAN ALWAYS IGNORE THIS, IT’S MORE THAN OKAY; I LOVE YOU SO ♥)

@jeoseungsaja | I have 42 muscles in my face and each and every single one of them is dedicated to absolutely BAWLING all over the place for Alex and Yeo and-

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To be absolutely frank in the most shameless way he can pursue this level of honesty, Yeo could grab his hand and drag him thrice around the globe and he’d never even stop him to ask where they’re going. He’d march on endlessly until the gates of Hell themselves would perhaps open up for them, or more likely those of Heaven, considering Yeo is what the Gods will see before they see the Goblin attached to his hand as if the connection between their souls won’t allow for physical detachment any longer.

But this works too.

In fact, this is absolutely perfect, and if Yeo would want to repeat this on any given day for any given circumstances, Kim Shin would travel the world thrice himself and then thrice once more if it meant stopping beneath the next mistletoe and watching the way Yeo’s eyes sparkle underneath it.

He’s always found appreciation for a gumiho’s characterising wit. But he’s never adored it as aggressively as he does when he sees Yeo’s brand of it lighten up his entire being. There is nothing Shin wouldn’t do to make sure Yeo could always make these kind of faces, self-satisfied and shameless in his requests, in his gestures.

The moment his fingers had wrapped around his wrist, Shin had gained instant intimate understanding of messages woven into all those poems that described the world to slow down or come to a full halt at the first touch of attention upon the skin, granted by the holder of the only heartbeat you seek out in the dead stillness of the night, or amongst the shouts of the memories he won’t even fight off anymore.

Mistakes and sins are committed to be tracked and saved in history books, he can cry after them all he wants, and he won’t ever lift the sword off his shoulder, the one not wedged in his chest, but the one intended to weigh him down, and remind him just what he’d gifted the earth, corpses and blood and fire.

But he won’t let them consume him. He won’t choose the sight of them and the undeserving nature of his soul over the sight of this, the warmth that spreads in his cheeks from where Yeo’s fingers were pressing into them, and he won’t even pretend to not be absolutely lovestruck and stuck into place, offering nothing of wit, perhaps nothing at all beyond the lifting of his eyebrows, the honey in his eyes melting all over his reddened features and the stupid smile he’s wearing, even as Yeo seems intent on wiping it away for him.

There are a few things he can’t give up on him, can’t keep away from, even when he’s most desperate in his hunt for an adequate punishment for him to lay upon the one he’s already going through. He’ll meet his reality head-on and he won’t pretend to not be what he is for the reason he is, in the same way he will very readily devour each and every kiss granted to him.

Yeo is at the very top of that list.

Every kitten brush against his lips, the compliment that had served as only warning, the absolute ridiculousness of his facial expression, especially as Yeo moves far away enough in between kisses for Shin to actually get a proper look at his face, the high-pitched chuckle buried somewhere deep within his throat.

And his hands.

Callused and scarred, every line cut into filled to the brim with the blood he’s spilled, gentle, oh so gentle in contrast to those that had wielded that sword and translated it into divine punishment he had no right to give. Hands that seem to have been made for this, rather than for that, because he finds so much more ease in sneaking them around Yeo’s middle to tug him in, closer, until his chest is only a breath of his small kisses away from being pressed fully against Shin’s.

Because he would have spent another 900 years as this lonely goblin if this is the Christmas he’d get his 901st year, a gorgeous shameless fox finding something worth staying for, something that makes him find a place to rest within Shin’s arms, if of course he is indeed willing to take the space the former general is always so clumsily trying to offer.

They’ve both done so much. So much to atone for all the things they were made to do, all the things they regrettably did on their own, and all the things they failed to pursue.

And even though they’ve destroyed parts of their self for kingdoms stubborn on cutting the flesh above their heel and watch them fall into the pit they’d dug themselves, haven’t they atoned long enough to, every now and then, take something like this, too?

Don’t answer that question.

Shin doesn’t care for the answer.

Because he’ll take what Yeo has to give whether or not the Heavens approve.

And if they don’t? Well, Hell might be more welcoming after all, if it’s the only place left to reach, as consequence to loving Yeo.

Although he doubts it greatly.

Hell isn’t the place for something as holy as the fox beneath his fingertips or the divinity of his lips against his.

Speaking of…

“Look who’s talking,” one of his hands has found its way into Yeo’s hair, pushing him away just slightly with no good excuse to offer for why he’s taking his time to run his thumb along his cheekbones, to hold his cheek as if some Norse goddess out there had lost her son for Shin to do this.

“I think even the most faithful group of three would forget the trail to a giant holy star at the sight of you,” and he isn’t the most religious person out there, if anything, his relationship to divinity and belief is perhaps more complicated than most regular humans could claim theirs to be. But if there is one good thing he could use the bible for, it’s to remind Wang Yeo of how loving him is the only commandment in his personal scripture that he finds worthy rereading and bleeding into himself.

Which is why it only seems appropriate that he leans in himself now, to pull Yeo into the kind of kiss he could perhaps create a new religion out of, if the slow worship of lips against lips, the dedicated lasting prayer of his tilting his head and pulling him closer, are anything to go by.