#WOOD COATINGS MARKET

[tritonmarketresearchamey]

Wood Coatings Market: Trends & Opportunities 2024-2032

According to Triton Market Research, the Global Wood Coatings Market report is sectioned by Resin Type (Polyurethane, Nitrocellulose, Acrylic, Other Resin Types), Technology (Water-Borne, Powder Coatings, UV-cured, Solvent-Borne), Application (Furniture and Fixture, Cabinet, Doors and Window, Flooring, Deck), and Regional Outlook (Middle East and Africa, Europe, Asia-Pacific, North America, Latin America).

The report highlights the Market Summary, Industry Outlook, Porter’s Five Forces Analysis, Market Maturity Analysis, Supply Chain Analysis, Regulatory Framework, Key Buying Impact Analysis, Key Market Strategies, Market Drivers, Challenges, Opportunities, Analyst Perspective, Competitive Landscape, Research Methodology and scope, Global Market Size, Forecasts & Analysis (2024-2032).

Based on Triton’s research report, the global market for wood coatings is set to advance in value at a CAGR of 4.02% during the forecast period 2024-2032.

Wood coating serves a dual purpose: safeguarding and enhancing wood or wood-based structures. By shielding wooden surfaces, it bolsters their durability and utility. Simultaneously, it elevates their aesthetic appeal, contributing to effective product promotion.

Factors such as personalized solutions for flooring and furniture, the emergence of smart coating technology, and improved coating performance via nanotechnology, creates lucrative opportunities for the wood coatings market globally. Smart coatings offer an array of functionalities, such as self-healing, anti-fouling, and antimicrobial properties, enhancing the durability and performance of wood surfaces. This extends the lifespan of wood products and reduces maintenance costs. Moreover, smart coatings contribute to sustainability efforts by minimizing the need for frequent reapplications and replacements, thus reducing waste. With increasing environmental concerns and a growing emphasis on eco-friendly solutions, the adoption of smart coatings is set to escalate, driving market growth and innovation.

However, fluctuating raw material costs and competition from composite materials limit the overall development of the wood coatings market worldwide.

The Asia-Pacific region is set for the fastest growth in the coming years. One key driver is the region’s growing construction and furniture industries, particularly in countries like China, India, and Vietnam, where urbanization and rising disposable incomes have fueled demand for high-quality wood products. Additionally, there is a growing awareness and emphasis on environmental sustainability, leading to an increasing preference for eco-friendly coatings with low volatile organic compound (VOC) content. Moreover, technological advancements in coatings formulations, such as the development of water-based and UV-curable coatings, are gaining traction due to their superior performance and reduced environmental impact.

The renowned companies in the wood coatings market are Nippon Paint Holdings Co Ltd, Diamond Paints, PPG Industries Inc, Asian Paints, RPM International Inc, The Sherwin-Williams Company, BASF SE, Akzo Nobel NV, Axalta Coating Systems LLC, and Kansai Helios.

With evolving consumer preferences and stringent environmental regulations, barriers to entry remain significant, deterring potential newcomers. Established players continually innovate to maintain market share, investing in research and development to offer eco-friendly and high-performance coatings. Intense rivalry among existing competitors fuels pricing pressures and product differentiation strategies, compelling companies to enhance quality and expand distribution networks. Amidst these challenges, strategic alliances and mergers are common, reshaping the competitive landscape and fostering consolidation.

[mordormr]

Exploring the Growth of Canada’s Industrial Wood Coatings Market: Key Trends and Insights

The Canada industrial wood coatings market is witnessing steady growth, driven by the increasing demand for high-performance coatings in the construction, furniture, and cabinetry sectors. Industrial wood coatings play a crucial role in enhancing the durability, aesthetics, and functionality of wood products, making them indispensable in various industries. The canada industrial wood coatings market size is projected to be USD 194.75 million in 2024 and is anticipated to grow to USD 235.62 million by 2029, with a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 3.88% during the forecast period (2024-2029).

Market Overview

According to industry analysis, the Canada industrial wood coatings market is poised for expansion, fueled by rising construction activities and increased furniture manufacturing. The country's thriving real estate and housing markets, along with strong demand for interior and exterior wood products, are key factors driving the demand for coatings. Wood remains a favored material for its natural appeal and versatility, and coatings ensure longevity by providing protection against moisture, UV radiation, and wear.

Key Trends Shaping the Market

Shift Toward Environmentally Friendly Coatings: As environmental regulations tighten, the demand for low-VOC (volatile organic compounds) and water-based coatings is increasing. Canada has stringent environmental standards, and manufacturers are increasingly investing in the development of eco-friendly, sustainable coatings. These products minimize harmful emissions and cater to a growing consumer base that prioritizes environmental responsibility.

Technological Advancements in Coating Solutions: Innovation is at the heart of the Canada industrial wood coatings market, with the development of advanced coatings that offer improved protection, durability, and application efficiency. High-performance coatings such as UV-cured coatings and nanotechnology-enhanced solutions are gaining popularity for their ability to provide superior protection while reducing drying times. This has boosted productivity in industries such as furniture manufacturing, where quick turnaround times are essential.

Rising Demand for High-Quality Aesthetics: Consumer demand for aesthetically pleasing wood products is driving growth in the market. Industrial wood coatings offer a range of finishes, from glossy to matte, enhancing the visual appeal of furniture, flooring, and cabinetry. Additionally, coatings that emphasize the natural grain and texture of wood are gaining traction, reflecting a broader trend toward minimalistic and organic design.

Growth in Construction and Real Estate: The construction sector in Canada, particularly in urban centers, is expanding steadily. With a rise in housing projects, both residential and commercial, the demand for wood-based materials is growing. As wood is commonly used in both structural and decorative applications, the need for industrial wood coatings to protect these materials is surging. Architectural coatings, in particular, are experiencing high demand for exterior applications, such as decks and cladding, where durability and weather resistance are crucial.

Customization and Product Development: Wood coatings manufacturers are focusing on providing customizable solutions to meet the specific needs of various industries. Custom formulations tailored to different types of wood and applications—whether for outdoor use or high-traffic indoor environments—are in high demand. This flexibility allows manufacturers to cater to niche markets, such as high-end furniture or industrial-grade wood products.

Impact of Global Trade and Raw Material Prices: Fluctuations in raw material costs, particularly in petrochemicals, have a direct impact on the production of industrial coatings. As a result, Canadian manufacturers are exploring alternative materials and sustainable sources for coating ingredients. Additionally, global trade dynamics influence the availability and pricing of these materials, making it important for the market to adapt to changing economic conditions.

Conclusion

The Canada industrial wood coatings market is set for significant growth in the coming years, driven by environmental trends, technological advancements, and rising demand for both functional and aesthetic wood products. As industries such as construction, furniture manufacturing, and cabinetry continue to expand, the need for durable, sustainable, and high-performance coatings will rise. Companies that invest in eco-friendly solutions and innovative technologies are likely to capture a larger share of this evolving market.

For a detailed overview and more insights, you can refer to the full market research report by Mordor Intelligence https://www.mordorintelligence.com/industry-reports/canada-industrial-wood-coatings-market  

[nancypanels]

Customization Options in the Global Coated Duplex Board Market

Coated duplex paper board is a versatile material that finds extensive use in packaging due to its durability, printability, and aesthetic appeal. In today's competitive market, customization plays a crucial role in meeting diverse consumer demands and industry requirements. Let's delve into the various customization options available in the global coated duplex board market:

Understanding Coated Duplex Board

Coated duplex board is a type of paperboard that consists of two layers, typically made from recycled fibers. The outer layer is coated with a thin layer of kaolin or other substances to improve its printing surface and enhance its strength and appearance. This makes it ideal for high-quality printing and packaging applications.

Key Customization Options

Printing and Graphics: One of the primary advantages of coated duplex board is its ability to showcase vibrant and high-resolution graphics. Manufacturers can customize the board by offering various printing options such as offset printing, digital printing, and flexographic printing. This allows brands to create visually appealing packaging that attracts consumers' attention on store shelves.

Surface Finishes: Coated duplex board can be customized with different surface finishes to achieve specific textures and appearances. Common surface finishes include matte, gloss, and satin finishes, each offering unique tactile and visual effects. These finishes not only enhance the aesthetics but also contribute to the overall feel and perception of the packaging.

Color Matching: Brands often require packaging that aligns perfectly with their corporate identity or product branding. Coated duplex board can be customized to match specific colors using Pantone Matching System (PMS) or CMYK color codes. This ensures consistency across different packaging batches and reinforces brand recognition.

Size and Shape: Customization in coated duplex board extends to the size and shape of packaging solutions. Manufacturers can produce boards in various dimensions and forms, ranging from standard boxes and cartons to intricate die-cut shapes tailored to unique product requirements. This flexibility allows brands to optimize packaging for efficiency and visual appeal.

Functional Coatings: Beyond aesthetics, coated duplex board can be customized with functional coatings to enhance performance attributes. For instance, boards can be treated with coatings for moisture resistance, barrier properties, or anti-static properties depending on the specific application needs. This customization ensures that the packaging maintains product integrity and meets regulatory standards.

Market Dynamics

The demand for customized coated duplex board is driven by several factors, including increasing consumer preferences for premium packaging, regulatory requirements for sustainable materials, and technological advancements in printing and coating processes. Manufacturers are investing in research and development to innovate new customization options that cater to evolving market trends and customer expectations.

Future Outlook

As consumer preferences continue to evolve towards personalized experiences and sustainable packaging solutions, the global coated duplex board market is expected to witness significant growth. Customization will remain a key differentiator for manufacturers and brands seeking to stand out in competitive markets and meet the diverse needs of consumers worldwide.

Customization options in the global coated duplex board market empower brands to create distinctive packaging solutions that not only protect and promote their products but also resonate with consumers on a deeper level. By leveraging advanced printing technologies and versatile material properties, manufacturers can achieve superior packaging aesthetics and functionality tailored to specific market requirements.

[nmsc-market-pulse]

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭.

Step into the vibrant realm of wood coatings, where nature meets innovation! This captivating photo captures the essence of the bustling wood coating market, showcasing the array of transformative products and techniques that enhance the beauty and durability of wooden surfaces.

Get a FREE sample: https://www.nextmsc.com/wood-coating-market/request-sample

From sleek modern finishes to timeless classics, wood coatings offer endless possibilities for architects, designers, and homeowners alike.

Witness the intricate craftsmanship and cutting-edge technology that elevate ordinary wood into extraordinary works of art.

𝐊𝐞𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬: RPM International, Hempel, BASF, Jotun, among others.

Join us on a visual journey through the Wood Coating Market and discover the magic of protecting, enhancing, and beautifying wood like never before. 🎨🏡

#woodcoating#innovation#craftsmanship#interiordesign

[akiresearch]

Top 10 Companies in the Global Wood Coatings Market

Top 10 Companies in the Global Wood Coatings Market

2022: Wood Coatings Market Share Competition Analysis 2022: Wood Coatings Market Share Competition Analysis In the last year 2022, the wood coatings market has seen positive growth with recovering from the covid-19 impact, raw materials supply issues, price inflation, etc. Wood-related products such as furniture, cabinets, siding, paneling, flooring, etc. are the key end-use applications where…

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This stunning 1905 mansion in Chicago, IL is not in the best neighborhood, East Garfield Park, but someone who lives in Chicago said that it's not bad enough to warrant such a LOW price. Someone has applied to buy it, and it's only been on the market for 18 days, but they are still showing it in case the deal falls thru. 6bds, 3.5ba, 5,832 sq ft, $485k. FYI: Systemic disinvestment in communities like Austin, East Garfield Park and West Garfield Park has led to population loss and gentrification over the years. 

Look at this entrance. The millwork is phenomenal, the floors are original, and that burled wood! Plus, look at the brass railings.

Isn't this original working fireplace magnificent? Look at the arch and the mosaics.

It needs a little cleaning, polish, and it will be stunning. The lighting is also original.

The foyer. You know, call me crazy, but it can't be that bad of a neighborhood if no one broke into those original glass doors.

Just look at these arches. Wainscoting, too. The floors are original.

This dining room! The tile floor, built-ins, fireplace, and that raised nook. Just wow. It's being sold as-is, but hey. All it needs is some cleaning up, it's all original.

Isn't this different? I wonder what this is. Maybe a stage for a small chamber music ensemble to entertain the guests?

The kitchen was redone at some point, but it's not terrible. (It's the same footprint, maybe the tile is original, counters are marble.) You can work with it.

This large room has a gorgeous fireplace, built-in shelving and leaded glass windows.

Check out the home office shelving and fireplace. Even the original mirror is intact.

The wood is so dry- it really needs some oil and maybe a coat or two of preservative.

This home deserves some TLC. Looks like they replaced some walls here. This is nice and light- beautiful fireplace and built-ins.

Oh, I love this big, vintage bath. This is amazing.

The bedrooms are very large.

This bath looks like it has a black marble sink. Not bad at all.

Looks like they put some shelving around this fireplace.

The attic level is finished. There's a fireplace up here, too, and look at the arches.

This bath is in good condition.

Someone started to finish the basement, so there's so much potential here.

Porte cochere.

They don't show any gardens, but the lot is 9,375 sq ft.

The street doesn't look that bad- nice big front porch. The 2 story coach house in the back can be an apt., guest house, or art studio. I think it's a steal.

History: The home was built by a gambler-

https://www.redfin.com/IL/Chicago/3234-W-Washington-Blvd-60624/home/13261182

[zepskies]

Basic Instinct

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: You and Alec adapt to the realities of a human/transgenic relationship, especially during your pregnancy. 

AN: Well, thanks to these lovely souls @winchestergirl2 @sunbeambarbie, and my patrons over on Patreon, I’m back with more of the Being Human storyverse! This idea could become a series of loose one-shots as I come up with more ideas around this premise (navigating a relationship with a transgenic that has…shall we say, animalistic tendencies).

Also, this is my first entry for Jacklesverse Bingo '24!~ @jacklesversebingo

Prompt: She whispers in his ear, and he breaks into a smile.

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Alec, fluff, elements of scenting, marking/claiming, hint of spice~

💜 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Alec shrugs the snow flurries off his jacket and dusts off his hair. He works past the shiver that accompanies the icy slush running off his head and shoulders, down to his boots.

He doesn’t mind the cold in these Seattle winters, but he hates slush. It’s messy and muddy, and the gray, placid sky doesn’t care about how many sectors he has to hit before his run of Jam Pony deliveries are done.

It doesn’t care about how he has to spend a few extra moments dragging the soles of his boots across the faded welcome mat into his apartment, but you do. You’ve got a thing about tracking in mud across the wood floors, even if they are already cracked and squeaky in certain places.

He savors the warmth of the living room when he finally gets inside and closes the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home,” he calls out tiredly, but with a note of playfulness. He half-expects you to be napping, as you tend to do in the afternoon at this stage of your pregnancy, especially now that the days have gotten so much shorter. It’s already pitch black outside, looking more like midnight than half past four.

To his surprise, you’re not only awake, but you’re zipping up the purple winter coat he got you—the one that actually fits you over your rounded belly. Your head raises, and your face brightens to see him as you wrangle your shopping bag over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you greet him, adding a kiss when you approach him at the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Alec stops you from moving past him with his hands meeting your waist.

“Hey, whoa, where’s the fire?” he asks, his brows furrowing.

“I’m just going to the market. We need a few things. So, you know, we can eat,” you say with a tease of a smile. “You probably had a long day, so you can shower up and chill if you want. I’ll be right back.”

Alec makes a sound of refusal and doesn’t let go of you when you try to keep heading for the door. You raise a brow at him in confusion.

“It’s dark as hell out there. Cold, wet, and muddy, and not to mention crazy traffic with people trying to get home,” he says. “And since I just came from that frigid hellscape, I’m gonna have to insist that you stay here and warm me up.”

His hands begin to sneak under your jacket and sweater layers, and you squeal and squirm a bit as his cold fingers find your skin, teasing your sides. You bite your lip against a smile and push at his chest, no matter how impossible that may be. Alec’s tall, lithe frame might not look particularly strong, but there’s no moving him once the transgenic plants his feet.

Just like there’s often no changing his stubborn mind on certain things, you’ve noticed, particularly in situations like this…

“I’ll be right back,” you say. “An hour, tops. Unless you want rice and canned tuna again, we need food.”

Alec pauses, his lips threatening to frown. But in a moment, a decision is made in his mind, and he grabs your bag off your shoulder.

“Fine, let’s go,” he says.

You pause, watching him open the door and hold it open for you. You sigh at him, but you adjust your winter hat and slip on your gloves before you step outside. Alec once again locks the door behind him and joins you on the sidewalk, slipping an arm around your waist to guide you snug against his side.

It’s both affection and protection. You can tell in the way he “casually” scopes the street, the neighborhood you’ve lived in relative peace for the past six months.

Still, he positions himself between you and the road, where a van zips by. It veers widely to avoid a pothole, looking like it might just take the sidewalk curb along with it. Alec tenses for a moment, until the van finally passes.

“People are freakin’ crazy in this city,” he says, shaking his head. “Just because the streetlights are more suggestion than law—”

“Alec, you drive like a maniac,” you point out. He scoffs at you.

“Oh, don’t even,” you say, cutting him off from whatever smartassed retort he was about to give. “Remember that time you ran into a chicken coop? You came home wearing bird shit and feathers in your hair.”

“Okay, but who keeps live poultry on the corner of a busy four-way intersection?” he grouses. “Make it make sense.”

Although you roll your eyes, it’s hard not to smile at your boyfriend’s antics. You two walk together amiably down to the market while he tells you about his day of deliveries. It weirdly makes you a little jealous. You stopped working after the whole Ames White debacle, when you were kidnapped. (You're still trying to block that traumatic episode out of your memory.) 

First, it was just a challenge to figure out where you and Alec were going to live. Logan is generous to a fault, but you couldn’t take up room in his apartment forever. He did make good on his promise to scope out the safest apartment you two could afford: a walkup on the moderately less skeevy side of town.

Alec hasn’t outright tried to ban you from working, but you two agreed that it would be better for you not to return to Jam Pony, both for logistical and safety reasons. Ames White is dead, but the rest of his radical organization—a damn breeding cult—is too well connected for Alec to want to take any chances. They’d likely known where you worked and followed you when you went to Alec’s old apartment that day.

All that aside, however, it’s a simple fact that your poor bladder won’t last five minutes on a bike. It’s really all you can do to walk to the market. The third trimester hasn’t exactly been easy on your body, but Alec hovers close behind you, making sure you choose whatever meat and vegetables you want, regardless of the price.

“Hey, they’ve got turkey. That’s new,” he says, grabbing a large bird off the row of hanging poultry. The smell of its rawness triggers a bubble of nausea, making you turn your face away and cover your nose and mouth with a sound of disgust.

Alec quickly holds it away from you, but he has the guy running the kiosk bag it up for him. You stop him with a hand on his arm.

“That’s too expensive,” you whisper to him in warning, your eyes widening. Alec gives you an easy smile.

“Sweetheart, if there’s one thing you and the baby need right now, it’s protein,” he reasons. “I was planning on picking up some extra shifts this week anyway.”

He gives the man the money without a second thought. You don’t know whether to frown, or shed pitiful tears when he does stuff like that. You’re still not altogether used to it, having someone who takes care of you for a change. You’ve spent most of your life doing that part yourself.

When Alec turns back around, grinning all proud as a peacock at the good deal he got and the haul he has slung in the bag over his shoulder, his expression falls at seeing the tears in your eyes.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, touching your arm. You shake your head with a smile.

“Nothing,” you sniff and wipe at your face. “Goddamn hormones.”

Alec smirks, but before he can tease you, a broad frame knocks into you from behind. It would’ve sent you to the ground hard if Alec’s reflexes hadn’t been quicker. His arms come around you, firm but gentle as he rights you. He glances behind him and bristles with anger, his spine stiff and his body taut. You rarely see that kind of sharpness in his eyes.

They’re gentler when they turn to you. 

“You okay?” he asks with furrowed brows of concern. You have to catch a winded breath, but you nod, meeting his eyes. He doesn’t let go of you until you get your balance back.

Then, his gaze flicks up to the man who bowled you over. He stands at the same kiosk Alec got the turkey from. Meathead is trying to buy the last one.

“Alec,” you warn.

“I’ll just be a second,” he says. You reach for his arm and try to tell him that you’re fine, but it’s like a switch has been flipped inside him, narrowing his gaze. He slips out of your grasp and leaves you with the bag of groceries.

“Damn it,” you mutter.

Not even a minute later, Alec swings a quick, exacting fist. You wince as the larger man nearly breaks his jaw on the pavement.

You can’t help but giggle and try to squirm away as he noses along your throat. It tickles. His arms are a loose, comfortable embrace in the familiar peace of your bed. You’re swathed by pillows and warm blankets while Alec is tucked along your side. His long legs bend at a slight angle with his knees brushing your thigh.

“Would you stop already?” you say, swatting his thigh. You feel his smirk against your skin.

“How’re my girls doing?” he asks. You chuckle. He was a bit stunned at first to find out that you’re having a girl. You thought he might’ve been hoping for a boy, easier for him to connect with someday. But the way he dotes on you sometimes, now, you can already tell he’s going to spoil your daughter rotten.

“We’re good,” you reply.

He sighs and settles in comfortably against you. This is your favorite thing, and you think it’s his too. After a long day, it’s your time to just rest and be with each other, either watching TV or catching up about the day. It’s everything and nothing at all.

Eventually, his voice interrupts the quiet again.

“You smell different, you know.”

You quirk a brow at that one. “What do you mean?”

When he shakes his head, you feel the tickle of his hair under your ear.

“Hmm, I dunno. Earthy, I guess,” he says. “Pregnant.”

You have to laugh. “I smell pregnant? Not sure if that’s a compliment.”

“Oh, it is,” he nods. His lips press a line of tantalizing kisses down your throat and collarbone. You smile and curl up a hand to sink your fingers into his hair, gently massaging his head.

It’s taken you some time to figure out exactly what a transgenic is, exactly, and you’ve come to realize that all of them are spliced with a little something special. Each and every one of them, from Alec and Max, to Joshua and the others who live in Terminal City—whether they look human or not, they’re unique in some way. It gives them certain…traits. Ones that betray the animal DNA they were partially created with.

As the events of this afternoon replay in your mind, your smile begins to slip.

“That was too much today, at the market,” you tell him, now that he’s calm. “What happened there?”

Alec stills.

“Nothing, just…you didn’t hear him. The guy was a smartass,” he says.

“What, couldn’t handle a taste of your own medicine?” you quip, but you squeeze his arm gently. It rests above the swell of your belly. “No, it was more than that.”

His jaw clenches; a telltale sign that he knows exactly what you’re talking about, even if he doesn’t want to answer you. You turn your head and scooch back a little so you can see his face better. His playfulness is long gone, but he meets your gaze.

“I think…” you whisper in his ear, tapping his arm with a finger, “that you have a bit of wolf in your cocktail. Not as much as Joshua, obviously, but still.”

Alec blinks in surprise, and he breaks into a smile.

“Oh, really? What gives you that idea?” he asks.

“Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?” you say. Alec rolls his eyes, but you level him with a wry look. “Sense of smell. Excessive protectiveness—”

“Excessive?” Alec raises a brow.

“Not to mention the biting, Count Dracula,” you finish, gesturing with a smile at the back of your neck. There’s a mark there that he refuses to let fade away.

Now, he becomes sheepish. His plush lips form a bit of a pout.

“I thought you liked that,” he says, his eyes glinting with mischief. You reach out a hand to cup his cheek.

“Oh, it’s hot as hell,” you tease back. You draw him in, guiding his face to yours for a slow kiss, simmering with heat.

“But it’s…possessive,” you say, after you break from him. Your words are a mere whisper in the small space between your faces. “Like you’re claiming me.”

The green in Alec’s eyes have darkened a touch. They roam your face.

“Well, you’re mine, aren’t you?” he asks. But his tone is deceptive. It’s anything but a question.

Your lips curve into a smile. You thumb at his chin.

“Yeah,” you reply.

Alec’s hand slides up your neck to cup your cheek, guiding you to him this time as he claims you in a more devouring kiss. He steals your breath, over and over, plying you with his tongue and with the weight of his body wrapping around you. He moves you gently onto your side and swipes your hair out of the way, so he can kiss his way down your neck.

He stops for a moment at that mark, where he grazes over the sensitive flesh with a hint of teeth. You shudder. Hot tingles run down your spine, pluming warmth and wetness between your legs.

“Alec,” you breathe, almost on a gasp. You feel him already hard and ready, pressed against you.

“I got you, sweetheart.”

His voice is smooth in your ear, but you’ve known him long enough to hear his need. It echoes your own. You take his hand and begin to lead him where you want him, all while he buries his face into your neck and inhales your sweet, familiar scent.

“Always,” he says.

AN: Short and sweet, but I had fun revisiting the Being Human world. I'd love to dip back in again someday! Until then, I hope you enjoy! 💜

I have a few more stories for Jacklesverse coming soon...

Join Patreon 🌟 || Series Masterlist

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Alec McDowell Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Alec M. Tag List (Part 1):

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @brianochka

@branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70

@clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @my-stories-vault @iwishiwas-sleeping @jessjad @pieandmonsters

@alwaystiredandconfused @deans-spinster-witch @angelbabyyy99 @sexyvixen7

@jackles010378 @nancymcl @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions @longlostx11

@chriszgirl92 @hobby27 @waynes-multiverse @lovelyunjinn @twinkleinadiamondsky

@ultimatecin73 @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @lovelystoriesaj @onlyangel-444

[reasonsforhope]

"How can we cool houses without using A/C? Scientists have now discovered that one way would be to turn the roof and walls into a beetle’s shell.

That’s because tiny nanostructures on the beetle’s exoskeleton made of cellulose capture light and send it bouncing around whilst separating it into different wavelengths. This is why they appear to shimmer in greens and purples.

More importantly however, when the same nanostructures are pasted to the outside of a house, they can keep it 7.2°F cooler during the day and 20°F cooler during the night.

Some scientists are worried that too much energy will be used for air-conditioning in a climate that is warmed by 1.5°C, and so are devoting their time to coming up with energy-less ways to cooling homes.

GNN has already reported on ultra-white paint that can keep things cooler, and now scientists at the University of Cambridge are turning to cellulose nanomaterials inspired by nature that would create iridescent houses that are self-cooling.

“The usual way to generate a color is dye, but dye will absorb light and heat up, and that counteracts the cooling effect,” Qingchen Shen, a postdoctoral researcher at Cambridge told Fast Company. 

As Shen explains though, color generally absorbs heat, rather than reflects it, but their invention of a thin nanostructure film made of cellulose under a thin film of white was able to generate over 120 watts of cooling power, as much as some air conditioners.

“We wanted to make it cheap,” Shen added. “That’s why we used cellulose-based materials. Cellulose nanocrystals can be extracted from wood or cotton. Cellulose is the most abundant polymer in nature.”

When pasted over walls or rooftops, the material could meaningfully assist in cooling the interior of the house and reduce electricity usage by a fair amount.

The colors could make a house look pretty psychedelic in the sunshine though, so the team is probably better off leaving the marketing for the major coastal cities."

-via Good News Network, 4/4/23

[beomiracles]

Hiiiiii! I've been your avid reader for a long time and i got the courage to finally ask about a request. Congratulations BTW! ❤ I just want to request a fic about Yeonjun. The clip where he removed his maroon vest and slowly unbuttoning his short with a fvcking smirk plastered on his face. 😭 if you know the clip i am talking about, please i beg youuu. I beg you for a president-secretary council trope. I want him to be the most gentle president he is but quiet aggresive on bed. Like, he loves back scratches, neck biting and hickey. (I am begging you, excuse me, because I am ovulating 😔😔😔) And please do iclude that clip if possible, thank you so much, i love you and your works! ❤❤❤

-🦭 white seal

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... hehe white seal anon wtf ily :( I never even knew I needed this Yeonjun until today ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

wc -> 1.4k

pairings president!yeonjun x secretary!reader (afab) warnings unprotected sex, creampie, marking lots lots, hair pulling, semi-public

Choi Yeonjun had this aura around him, it was almost like he was glowing. You think it was that glow that made people feel drawn to him. His gentle and kind nature, it usually got him what he wanted. The press conferences, the interviews, the marketing, Yeonjun knew how to persuade people into following him. He never raised his voice, not once, and he always approached anything with a smile. 

You were no different, and you quickly fell for his charms as you applied for the position that would get you the closest to him.  — You had just never imagined that being his secretary also meant being bent over his desk as he pounded into you from behind. The glow previously surrounding him would completely evaporate the second he hiked your skirt up above your waist. It was like he became someone completely different. Someone you loved. 

Cheek pressed against the cool wood of his office desk, your knuckles had since long turned white as they gripped the edge of the table harshly, your nails were surely leaving dents against the clear paint. One of Yeonjun’s large hands on your lower back keeps you still under him as he snaps his hips against yours, the sheer force he used threatening to make your eyes roll back. 

“Rethink the sales plan?” He scoffs to himself, his free hand snaking between your thighs to rub harshly against your clit, making you yelp as you screw your eyes shut. He shakes his head, a breathy laugh ripping from his throat. “Rethink it?” — “Do they think this is some kind of charity work?” He grunts as the hand between your legs moves to the curve of your ass, gently caressing it before he digs his fingers into the soft flesh. 

You could clearly recall how it all started. It was barely past 10am and you had gone through about a fourth of today’s tasks. Scheduling and rescheduling both interviews and meetings was almost like fitting pieces into a disorganized puzzle. — The large doors to his office had been ripped open with such force that you had flinched in your seat. Glancing up just in time to see Yeonjun kicking them shut with his feet, his hands already working on unbuttoning his shirt when his gaze met yours. 

“Desk, now.” Was all he had said and you scrambled to your feet as you scurried over, immediately dropping any current task on your hands as you carefully bent over the clean wood. You knew better than to ask what had happened, and even though your curiosity was at its peak, you bit your tongue in better judgment. 

Yeonjun had quickly discarded both his tie and blazer, his shirt halfway open before he gave up with a groan, large hands grabbing ahold of your skirt as he pulled it up along your thighs. Quickly yanking your panties down to your knees, his fingers wasted no time in coating themselves in your already pooling arousal. — During your first week here you had found out that he wasn’t one for foreplay, especially not when someone had pissed him off. 

That was how you found yourself like this, tears welling in your eyes as your teeth threatened to break the skin on your lips. Yeonjun’s pace doesn’t waver for even a second and his grip on your ass is bound to leave a mark. “Fuck babe, what do they want from me?” He seethes as he buries himself deeper, his cock brushing up against every inch of you. “I…I don’t know..” You splutter between gasps and he huffs behind you. 

The ever monotone sound of his phone ringing makes your eyes snap open as a small chill runs down your spine. Somewhere above you, Yeonjun lets out an exasperated groan as he reaches for the small device. When your wide eyes meet his he gives you a stern look as he motions for you to stay quiet. Before you have the chance to realize what he’s about to do he presses the device against his ear, a small “hm?” leaving his lips as his hips snap against yours once more, his brows drawing together at the way you clenched around him. 

Clasping a hand over your mouth you choke down your whines as you hear the faint voice of someone else on the other line. Yeonjun sighs as he pulls back, just enough to where his tip remains, before he slams back into you, making the pencils on the desk rattle. “No, I’ll get around to it later”, he mutters as his free hand trails across your back, pushing up beneath your shirt and you shiver. 

There’s a brief pause as he stills inside of you, and you almost wanted to cry at the lack of friction. Whatever the person on the other side was saying it had to be important. The frown on his face only deepens as he sighs, “tell them that I’ll get back to them.” — “No of course not, tell them that I would be happy to”, his voice is light and cheerful, the voice he used when he was working, the voice that got people on his side. 

“Ah, thank you. That would be wonderful, yes.” 

The second the call cuts he slams his phone against the table right in front of your eyes and you flinch. “Piece of fucking shit”, he grunts as he pulls out of you, two hands on your waist as he hoists you up and flips you over, making you face him. Your hands find his shoulders on instinct as he pushes himself inside once more, and you moan as you let your head fall back. 

“Why the fuck do we even have them hired?” His teeth graze the skin of your neck as he peppers your skin in harsh kisses, his frustration easily simmering out into the angry red marks he leaves on your body. You don’t reply as your sharp nails dig into his shoulders, trailing down his back with such force that you think it might hurt, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he groans against your skin, his cock twitching deep inside of you. 

“Fuck do that again, babe.” He breathes as his pace only increases, one of his hands rooting themselves in your hair, his tight grip causing a burning sensation to spread throughout your scalp. The feeling has your nails digging further into his back as Yeonjun pulls the skin of your neck between his teeth. 

His thrust slowly grows jagged and his free hand moves down to stimulate your clit as he urges you to finish alongside him. You cry out as you pull him closer, inevitably pushing his lips against your own. At first you freeze, while the two of you were intimate more than often, kissing was something you rarely did. Thinking you had overstepped, you were ready to pull back when he suddenly kissed you back, the grip on your hair preventing you from shying away. 

With a small moan you feel yourself throb around him as your climax hits, and you shudder against his lips. A harsh and final snap of his hips makes him groan as he releases himself inside of you, the hot sensation clouding your thoughts as he continued to fuck his cum back into you. — Within seconds he was hard again and you whimpered at the uncomfortable overstimulation. 

“Reschedule all my meetings for today.” 

“Never thought you’d make it”, Taehyun says as Yeonjun takes a seat next to him, quickly calling the bartender over to order himself something to drink. “No?” He muses as he runs a hand through his hair. — “We’ve been here an hour already”, Beomgyu adds as he sets his empty glass down against the bar counter. 

Yeonjun rolls his eyes as he pushes the sleeves of his shirt up. “Got held up at work”, he shrugs as he receives his drink. “You seem to do that a lot”, Beomgyu mutters as he too orders himself another round. — Taehyun on the other hand had gone completely silent as he studied his friend’s now exposed forearms. 

“What the fuck happenend to you?” He motions toward the angry red marks trailing down his arms and Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow toward his skin, images of your sharp nails flashing across his eyes as a smirk grows on his lips. 

“Ah, this? Just the cat.”

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[ktsumu]

THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

pairing: childe / tartaglia x f!reader wc: 4.4k

choosing to love him is choosing endless bloodshed; all of it is yours.

(alternatively — the metamorphosis of a god through the eyes of his keeper.)

warnings: suggestive / mentions of sex, nudity, profanity, angst, mentions of murder / death, ambiguous ending i think, almost canon compliant

note: 4.4k words and i don't think even this has a plot. WHO CARES dedicated to @shoyostar bc i never stop talking and @crysugu :3 here he is!

Before he was ever Tartaglia, eleventh of the Harbingers, he was a timid child. 

He feared the simple things — speaking to neighbours, strangers, the mailman. He never went to the market alone, not without his parents, not without his older brother to hold his hand. Neighbourhood boys called him names and you called him sweeter things, bringing him in for hot chocolate because of his red eyes, holding his frozen hands in a lukewarm basin. 

Your town was on the coast but he rarely saw the water; he was afraid of drowning and even more afraid of sinking, even though you could see the ice was six inches thick through the sides of the fishing holes scattered everywhere. Not even the men would crack it, fathers that ate at the head of the table, yet he thought he’d be the one. Nor did he trust anyone to save him. 

Childe was Ajax before he was anything for anyone else, his name from myth. Eagle. He was born a  Greek tragedy; hero, for most. 

He was fourteen when he disappeared. Your mother said he’d come back home, kids get mad. Your father said a bear got to him, a weak thing like that — your whole neighbourhood looked for him after he vanished. 

He was gone three days in the woods but he told you he’d been gone for months. He was underground; you asked if it was Hell but he said it was much more. When he crawled back up to Morepesok, he was a different person.

He looked you in the eye and told you he was finally ready to fight.

+

You didn’t believe he was lost for three months until you watched him hold a sword.

By the barrels on the fishing dock, boys fought with wooden blades. Girls would watch and sit on box crates, swaddled up to their ears, cheering on whichever one they liked that week. They’d watch as they hit each other, splinters snagging on coats, knuckles gone white from the cold and how tight they held their handles. 

When Childe stepped up for the first time, they snickered at him. The boy who ran away from home, coming to join the sword fights. It was a joke and they laughed.

(You saw something in his eyes that day and it scared you. There is nothing more terrifying than a child with bloodlust.)

He beat the kid so badly that they put thirty stitches in his forehead, and you were left to do patchwork on the bomb.

Cutting coloured wires, you dabbed Childe’s red cheek with a warm cloth, wringing it out in the bowl of water that separates the two of you. He was calmer then, in front of you. Not that he wasn’t before; it was less of not being calm and more of craving victory, more of a test of his newfound gift.

“I told you to stop,” you mumbled, “hitting him, I mean.”

“I stop, he starts. I won.”

“What did you win? Where's your prize?”

Childe looked at you dumb, with his dumb childish eyes that no longer held hate. Maybe it was somewhere, hidden, beneath the water you drown in, but instead the surface held a glare of wonder. He was Ajax again, always hopeful.

He hissed when you dabbed his skin with something other than water, something that stung. “I—”

“No one wins in war, Ajax,” you scolded. “You’ll see someday.”

“I won’t be in a war.”

You scoffed, your hand gripping his jaw when he tried to run away. “We’ll see.”

+

You’re seventeen when he stumbles inside your house, the wooden door cracking against the wall as he slumps to the floor.

Your feet are cold when you step away from the wood stove in your living room, dropping to your knees, holding his face in your hands that are always so much warmer than his. They cradle his flushed cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead; he’s gripping at a pulse in his ribs.

“I’m fine,” he assures you, before you start to cry, “just tired. I’m just tired.”

He eases the door shut, his head tilting back against the wall. His hand rests on your knee, squeezing it like he’s grounding himself, counting on the fabric of your pants to do it for him. You touch the icy veins that run over his knuckles and he comes back to life.

“What happened to you?” you rush, your family asleep down the hallway. You turn the dial on the oil lamp beside you, watching the fire reflecting off of his dirty cheeks.

He laughs, pulling your wrist off when you smack your hand over his mouth with a lousy ‘alright, alright’ and a glance towards your parents’ bedroom. “Me?” he coughs out. 

“You should see the other two.”

(You don’t know what told you first, but you remember going cold.)

“What do you mean?” you whisper. You can’t stop whispering, you can’t stop shaking. “Ajax, what did you do?”

Childe’s smile tilts itself crooked. “I killed them,” he says. 

His voice is so quiet it cracks under the pressure to not be heard.

(He’s smiling, but he’s crying. It doesn’t look like he means to. He doesn’t know he is.)

You want to run. You notice the smear of blood on his jaw again—is that even his? His hand still clutches your knee but you only now notice the red his palm stains it with, the red on the side of his torso. You want to run.

(You should run.)

You don’t run. Because it’s Ajax, and he’s tired of running tonight. Why would you?

“It’s okay,” you say with a nod and a shiver, like shutters in a hurricane. You’re both crying, and he’s against your chest, and he’s still so fucking cold that it’s migrating to you. “Stand up. Ajax, stand up—”

“I can’t,” “You can, you need to get in the bath.”

“I’ll wake your—“

“If you were ever worried about that, you wouldn’t have come here, so Ajax would you please—“

He breathes out, muffling his groans as he staggers to his feet. You’re not of much help but at least your hands, your shaking hands, are telling him you’re there. And that’s enough. 

“I love it when you say that,” he grimaces, shuffling towards the hallway. “My name.”

+

Childe misses your eighteenth birthday by ten minutes.

You ate dinner with your family at your favourite pub, his siblings wrote you cards and pulled your ears, you tied your hair loose and flirted with the pretty guy who fed the boat lines. You don’t like him all that much, but he looks nothing like your neighbour and for you, that is a fine enough reason to talk. 

Stones hit your window at ten past midnight, and Childe stands in the snowy alley outside of your bedroom. He wields another pebble and tilts his head.

Your window’s too old for you to ignore me.

You pull on your coat and boots, scarf too because he talks too much, and head outside into the night, creeping out the back door. You cross your arms, walking over to where he stands just outside of the lamplight.

“Hiding?” you ask, stopping in front of him.

Childe laughs like nothing’s wrong, digging through his back pocket with his gloved hand, handing you a box. “Happy birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday."

“Belated.”

You glance between his rosy cheeks and the box before you take it, looking towards the end of the alley to avoid his stare. Because guys like Childe don’t look away — you know better than to look back.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tucking your hands back into the warmth of your pockets.

Childe nods; you don’t open gifts in front of him, you know better than to do that, too. He knows better than to think you would. 

You look at his hands, eyebrows furrowing. “Leather gloves?”

“So you noticed?”

“How? You couldn’t afford long johns last year.”

Childe grins. “I got a job.”

“At the tank house,” you say, crossing your arms. “Which, you had last year.”

The look in his eyes tells you he’s in deep — he doesn’t seem to care about it as much as you do. “I’m a Harbinger, now.”

“You—”

“I’m the youngest—” “You’re the dumbest,” you grit, sticking a finger in between his ribs. “You're eighteen — what kind of achievement is that?”

He takes a deep breath, his lungs pushing your finger back until it falls defeated. “I didn’t expect you to be happy, believe me.”

“Why,” you whisper, “would I ever be happy to watch you sell yourself to killers?”

“You know I’m no better,”

“Oh, Ajax, if you think that’s what I know then you’re more stupid than I thought.”

There’s no real reason to excuse the blood on his hands other than the fact that they’re so gentle when they hold yours.

There’s a voice down the alley and two drunk men in hats and coats wave your way. You grimace, but Childe waves back. 

“This is why you’re outside. You don’t want them to know where you live.”

“Or where you live.”

You grit your teeth. “Yes, because it’s great that your allies are a threat your family.”

“You’re not my family,” he says, “that’d make things weird.”

Your eyes well and you swallow, looking back at the men who stare at both of you. They murmur amongst themselves and you try to ignore them, but it’s hard when Childe won’t look away.

A breeze of snow from the rooftops drifts over you, and you look at him one more time. The last, you try to pledge to yourself. “Don’t leave with them.”

“It’s too late now and you know it.”

“How the fuck would I know it?”

“Don’t cry,” he tells you, much softer now that he knows you didn’t realize it yet, “I’ll come home, I’m not gone forever. If anything, I’ll come back richer. No one will sleep cold.”

“You’ll come back to spoil your family with blood money?”

“I’d spoil you, too,” he adds, “but I know better than to try that.”

There is a heavy silence between the two of you. It isn’t the weight of his gold or the weight of him not coming home; it is the weight of lead, of gunpowder. The weight of the bullets that his two new friends that wait in the street have loaded.

Childe takes your arms, tugging your hands from your pockets, frowning at your white fingertips and cracking knuckles. 

“Take these—”

“I don’t want your dirty paws,”

“Well, I don’t want your dry hands. And when I come home, I’ll need them.”

Childe drives the knife deeper, twists it through your chest, and slips off his gloves. He places them in your hands and just snickers when you pocket them. “No worries, I’ll just get a new pair.”

“Great.”

He nods, starting down the alley. He knows you well enough to understand that you don’t want to say goodbye, not when you know you’re saying goodbye to how things were before. Instead, he just calls over his shoulder.

“See you at Christmas?”

“Why even come back?”

“Right,” he chuckles. “I wanna see your gift next time, though.”

Then he leaves, and he doesn’t look at you again. You suppose he’s been trained to do that, but then again, you can’t remember a time where he has looked back at you, anyway. He’s never looked back at anyone before the end.

+

He comes home every Christmas, just like he promised. 

Each time he does, he drags you out to a cabin outside of town, one so hidden in the woods that you almost thought he built it, and he fucks you like he missed you before he was gone. Not enough to leave the Fatui, but enough to come home once in a while. And once in a while is all you're gonna get, so you don't let it go.

He comes home, tells his family all about his life as a businessman, a toy salesman you once heard, and then sneaks you out so you can love him as loud as you want. Then, you eat the fish you bring, he tells you how much he missed the sturgeon in Morepesok, and he's gone before the sun comes up. 

Childe lets you go with a tired breath, watching the fire beat against your glistening skin as you sit on the edge of the bed. The warmth of him courses through you like a river current and you fix your hair with weak hands, biting the tie that was around your wrist. “I feel your eyes, you’re not subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he says simply. “You’re beautiful. More beautiful now.”

“You said that last year.”

“Next year, too.”

You roll your eyes, back straightening when he looms behind you, his naked body against yours. His hand sneaks around your waist and his lips press against your shoulder blade, kissing until he gets to the juncture of your neck and collarbone. 

“Ajax,”

“I know,” he says against your skin, “gotta eat.”

“You’d think they would feed you in the castle.”

“Hardly a castle, sweetheart."

“That belt says otherwise,” you mumble, standing, making him let go. You pick up your underwear from the floor, too hot to wear anything else. “It’s custom.”

He snorts, flopping back down on the bed. “Birthday gift.”

“From who?”

“Ooh, jealous?”

“Of someone who doesn’t know who you are? No.”

Childe hums a laugh, giving a look in agreement to the ceiling that you catch out of the corner of your eye. He rests a hand on his chest, watching you sweat in the heat of the fireplace, smiling at the life he has for the next four hours.

He clears his raspy throat. “You finally wore it. The gift.” He snickers, “I only waited two years.”

You look over your shoulder at him, pulling your cami over your head. “I wasn’t gonna let money rot.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“What?”

“The stone. Do you know what it is?”

You stare, face hot. You’re partially embarrassed to not know, never having left Snezhnaya and let alone your town, but you’re curious enough to shake your head. Childe smiles like he knows that you wish you knew enough to say yes.

(You hate that he’s travelled the world you used to tell him you dreamt about. The one you made him dream about, too.)

He scoots up to lean against the headboard, and you take the invitation to come back to the bed. You crawl onto the mattress again, sitting beside him as he moves the clasp of the necklace to the back of your neck, and the stone to the front.

“They call it Cor Lapis,” he says, “it’s in Liyue.”

“Oh.”

He lets go. “It’s not rare, but I like it.”

“You spend a lot of time in Liyue, it makes sense.”

“So you do read my letters,” he says with a grin, cocking his head and holding your hand. “What else do I say?”

“What about the necklace?”

“Huh?”

“If it’s not rare, why get a custom-made necklace?” you ask. “Expensive for such a simple stone.”

Childe’s eyes drop back down to the necklace, holding it out from your neck and in line with the light of the bedside table lamp. It glitters in his eyes and you’re sure it does in yours.

“Cor Lapis is dull,” he tells you. “It doesn’t actually glow until it’s cracked open.”

You look at the cut edges of the stone, framed in gold. It’s small, but it’s something that looks like Childe gave it to you. When your mother saw it, she said it was beautiful and asked when he was home last.

You focus on the fingers that hold it.

“I found it a lot like you,” he says, his voice lower, his eyes finally looking up to face you head-on. “Heart of gold.”

“I don’t need to be cracked open."

“You have been,” he corrects, “you are right now.”

He’s right. He’s so fucking right that it hurts your head to think about and hurts your chest to acknowledge. 

Childe’s hand runs up and under your shirt, showing your skin. “And you’re glowing.”

You sit in the silence inside your open ribs and give him a small smile, standing up to shake his hand off of you.

“I’ll let you tell me that next winter, too.”

+

Next Christmas, you stay in bed. Childe cradles your necklace again but doesn’t tell you about Liyue because you don’t ask, too proud to ask twice. 

Instead, you lay against his chest, littered with brand new scars you didn’t see last time. Some you watch, others you look away from because they run too deep for you to need to know how he got them. Year by year, you get more quiet.

Childe does, too. He hasn’t lost his boyish charm but it shares his body with something else now.

“Why don’t you come home before Christmas?” you ask. “Once, even. Teucer’s birthday?”

“It’s not that easy. If it was, I’d be there for every birthday. Yours, theirs.”

You purse your lips, rolling onto your back to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. “Right,” you whisper.

“Don’t do that,”

“Why do you say that like I’m fishing for empathy?” you ask casually, scoffing a laugh. “You used to have some, you know. Before you were a fucking hitman.”

“You have no problem fucking said hitman, so please, if you now raise any sudden changes of heart, I should probably know.” 

You look at him coldly and he shakes his head. “It’s not like I want to hurt you.”

His arm gets heavier around you, weighing you down against his side. You fight it off when you sit up, turning to look down at him. Déjà vu washes over you both.

“Do you honestly think that I’m talking about me?” you say through laughs. “I’ve gotten used to your wounds, Ajax, it’s not about me.”

“I—”

“How about your family?” you say. It shakes the cabin walls, even though you weren’t loud at all. “You have younger siblings who idolize you and older ones who know better than what you tell them. Do you think they’re dumb?”

He stares at you. You ask, “You remember them, don’t you?”

“I remember my siblings, yes, thank you for aski—”

“Did you know Teucer made a sword?”

Childe’s next sentence fades into a sigh, and his lips purse as he shakes his head.

You cross your arms. “It looks just like yours.”

“Brotherly love, toys are harmless.”

“Who do you think will stitch his eyebrow? Or sneak him into the bathroom after he comes down from his first kill—”

“I never asked you to be my keeper,” Childe says, the grip on your hand tighter than it was before.

“And look how it turned out, anyway.” 

Childe leans back against the bed frame and thin pillows he’s stacked up, looking anywhere but at you. 

He’s older now and hardened into someone you can’t recognize, but he resembles a lot of the boy he was born as. He still doesn’t look you in the eye when he apologizes, not when he means it.

“Do you want me to leave?”

You stand, finding your clothes on the floor. You’re too hot, so you put on your underwear and shirt and leave it at that. “I brought fish. Rest while you can.”

+

It’s July, and Childe comes back to Morepesok in the middle of a blizzard.

Glasses rattle in behind the bar and you dry the ones from the sink, since the hot water ran out an hour ago. The pub’s empty but your shift still stands, even though no one dares to go outside when the storms are this bad, and it’s only you and a few stragglers left to pray the windows don’t shatter when the breeze hits you from the coast.

Every time you catch yourself in the counter’s reflection, you see your necklace, and you wonder what the beaches in Liyue are like. You can’t swim here without freezing to death and you can’t dream in relentless snow, so you let yourself think of him sometimes.

(Warm, swimming in streams. You wonder if he ever got over his fear of drowning when he realized he wouldn’t sink.)

Air whistles through old panels and teases the fire that burns in the seating area, and there’s a quiet hum of voices that dim the crackle of the logs you throw in every half-hour. A glass slides off the counter and breaks in the wind.

You gasp and jump, stepping back, stepping forward when you hit something — someone. You turn around and Childe stares back, snow on his eyelashes and his hair damp from hail and the sweat beneath his hat.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, you’re so welcoming. Need help?”

You scoff, kneeling with a brush and pan, guiding the glass back into a pile. You don’t answer his question. “They don’t really mean it when they say 'Christmas in July,' you know.”

“You were the one who told me to visit more, right?”

You nod, standing again, dumping the glass into a bin. “Outside the bar, staff only."

Childe slowly raises his hands in surrender, stepping quietly out from the back and rounding to face you again. He leans on the freezing counters, looking around the room. “You work here?”

“A normal person job, yes.”

“So boring.”

“Why’d you come back?” you ask, going back to washing glasses. “When do you leave?”

Please, stay. Just for once, stay.

“Tomorrow.”

“Do they ever let you off your leash for more than a day? Or do you just hate snowstorms that much now?”

“They have gotten worse since I’ve been gone,”

“Or you’ve just been gone long enough to forget where you come from,” you suggest, glancing up at him again. “The Fatui do still operate here, right?”

“Lower your voice, eh?”

“Sorry. Forgot.”

Childe purses his lips, looking around again. He lowers his head. “The cabin’s open.”

“There’s no way we can make it through the trees blind.”

“I can get us there.”

“Do you remember you got lost in those woods once?”

He grins when you look up. “Well, you know you don’t learn without getting lost. I know them now.”

You crack a tiny smile back, one that probably gives him way too much hope. He watches you put glasses away, he relaxes when he sees the necklace you still wear; even if you started wearing it two years late. 

You shake your head. “I’m not coming to the cabin.”

“Why’s that?”

“You should spend the day you have with your family.”

“You—”

“Don’t make things weird.”

The moment is bittersweet and Childe isn’t stupid enough to challenge it, so he just laughs. You try to but it comes out funny.

“So that’s it?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “It’s always been your decision, not mine.”

And nothing you have ever done has been anything I’ve wanted.

Childe nods, biting his cheek. He knows that people who live in the woods often die there, too. He never really made it out. “Show me out, then?”

You give in, walking him the short distance to the door. He rests with his hand on the knob, gently moving you away from the door so the breeze doesn’t freeze you in place. He tugs his hat on and notices the gloves he gave you years ago hang by your coat on the standing rack.

“When should I come back?”

He watches you breathe in, he watches you breathe out. “Come back when you’re coming home.”

Childe doesn’t try to reason or to ask what you mean, because he knows what you mean.

Don’t.

With a nod, he smiles. It shows with a weakness that no Harbinger should still have with them; you think this might be the death of it.

“I’ll see you around, then.” He opens the door.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Bye, Childe.”

The door shuts. You don’t hear the snow crunching beneath his feet until a few seconds later, and you keep your ear against the door until you don’t hear them anymore.

Before he was ever Tartaglia, Childe, eleventh of the Harbingers, his home was in the woods he got lost in. Not underground, but in a cabin, with strong windows and shutters the colour of your eyes.

+

It’s the second Christmas you haven’t seen Childe or the woods. You haven’t checked if he’s stayed there and the stories Teucer tells you are old, but there’s a chance he’s still burning a fire and laying in bed, glowing with heat.

Either Childe hasn’t come back, or he just hasn’t told you he has. Either way, you don't make an effort to know.

Somewhere in Liyue, there’s an ore mine with your name carved above the entrance. The men talk about you when they wheel out carts of jade and ore, wondering how you reached so far up to tell them you were there.

In Mondstadt, an outpost sings a folk tune about a girl who heals wounded soldiers.

In Inazuma, a village calls a seashell by your name. It started with the kids, who said a man from a different place told them all about it. An expert on it, they said. They haven’t called it anything else since.

In Sumeru, your laugh runs through the river.

In Natlan, a painting hangs in a bar of a woman dressed in fire, a ribbon on her wrist and her hair everywhere else. When asked, the artist says he was inspired by a man who spoke of a girl with a heart of gold. 

In Fontaine, they serve grilled sturgeon, only cooked by wooden stove.

Childe sits down in a town in Snezhnaya, far away from Morepesok, and he sits in front of five kids who look just like the ones back home. Freezing, and curious.

He lets them fawn over his attire, bug him for all he’s worth while they’re tucked inside of a barn to avoid the cold. He answers every question about his job selling toys with enthusiasm and without guilt, promising to someday come back with some for them. Then, they ask him to tell them a story — one they haven’t heard before.

Somewhere in Snezhnaya, far away from Morepesok, a tale is told about a girl who travelled the world.