#I desperately want to see this and I don't want to wait 30 years for it :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

musicforastylesrestaurant · 3 months

Note

Hi! I don't know if you already have an idea for the birthday post, if you do feel free to ignore this...my favourite trope is dad!harry too...what if H has to go for an emergency meeting somewhere else out the country even before his birthday and he has to spend his birthday there too and he is bummed about it...the fmc can fly out with their daughter/son and when he is back from his meeting his room is all decorated and stuff and she tells him she asked jeff to cancel everything...and they do a bunch of fun stuff but at night, after dinner she and the baby surprise him with another baby or something and he is like best birthday ever, 30 is already amazing

Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - thank you so much to @missbearforfun for sending in this request, ive had had a fun time writing this, ive changed a few things up, so i hope that ive done it justice.

i can’t believe that my boy is 30….like i swear he was just auditioning for the x-factor yesterday. 🥹

word count - 4.4k

in which, harry gets called to do a meeting in italy, two days before his birthday, which means that he’ll be spending his 30th out there with just his manager jeff, what he doesn’t realise is that you, his darling wife, fly out to surprise him and hopefully give him the best birthday he’s ever had.

You’ve been in Harry’s life for just over ten years.

You’ve spent five of those years as boyfriend and girlfriend, two of those years as his fiancé, and now, this year will be leading up to the third year being each other's husband and wife.

The first birthday of his that you spent with him, was his 20th all the way back in 2014. He had organised an intimate get together at a restaurant full of all of his closest family and friends, and it was the first time that you would be turning up together, as an official couple seeing as the only people who knew about the two of you were his band mates and his mother,sister, father and step father.

It was also the night that he confessed to you that he loved you, and that you were the one person that he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with.

From that moment on, every birthday became a cherished chapter in your shared history.

Waking up in each other's arms has become a comforting tradition, marking the beginning of a day dedicated solely to celebrating Harry's existence. The warmth of those morning embraces symbolises the depth of your connection, a connection that has withstood the tests of time.

As the years unfolded, you've witnessed the evolution of Harry, both in age and character, yet the love between you two has remained unwavering.

From his 21st to his 30th birthday, you've made it a point to spend the day in a way that brings him joy. Whether it's exploring new places, indulging in his favourite activities, or simply relaxing together, the focus has always been on creating memories that reflect the essence of Harry.

Each birthday has become a canvas on which you paint moments of happiness and shared experiences.

You had spent every birthday with him, but for this one, it appeared to already be turning out in a way neither of you had expected.

A mere few days before Harry's anticipated birthday, an unexpected call from his manager, Jeff, sent ripples of disappointment through his plans. The urgency of an issue related to his beauty brand, Pleasing, required Harry's immediate attention in the Italy.

The brand we’re thinking of opening a pop-up shop over there, seeing as the country held so much adoration in both of your hearts, it was the place where you got married, the place where he proposed and where he now wanted his fans over there to have access to him and what he had to offer.

With flights already booked, he faced the heart-wrenching reality of having to leave just over two days before his special day. Devastation etched across his face as he contemplated the unforeseen disruption to the birthday celebration he had eagerly anticipated.

In a desperate attempt to reason with Jeff, Harry explained his deep desire to spend his birthday with you, sharing the disappointment that overshadowed the joy of the impending celebration.

However, the urgency of the matter prevailed, leaving Harry torn between personal desires and professional obligations. As his best mate and manager, Jeff empathised with Harry but emphasised the gravity of the situation, reinforcing the necessity of this unexpected journey.

Amidst the disappointment, you stepped in to comfort Harry, assuring him that celebrations could be postponed but his presence and well-being mattered most. You offered solace, reminding him that distance could not diminish the love and connection you shared.

The promise of a belated but equally meaningful celebration upon his return brought a glimmer of hope to the gloom that hung over his imminent departure.

You had promised him, that you would FaceTime him on his actual birthday and that you would both order the same takeaway that night and have a little over the phone date, just to celebrate this big milestone.

On the morning Harry was set to depart for Italy, the anticipation of his journey hung in the air. Dressed for travel, he stood before you with a small suitcase by the door.

Shoes on, cap snug, and sunglasses concealing his eyes, he exuded a mix of excitement and reluctance. Despite the January chill in London, the promise of Italy's warmth upon landing prompted him to prepare for a contrasting climate.

Your eyes held a silent plea as you stood before him, sorrow evident in your gaze.

"I wish I didn't have t’go," Harry admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

You nodded, understanding the weight of the situation, your silence echoing the unspoken emotions in the room.

Milo, your ten-month-old Rottweiler puppy, sensed the sombre atmosphere, wagging his tail as if trying to infuse joy into the moment.

Unable to contain your emotions, you wrapped your arms around Harry in a tight hug.

"I'll miss you so much," you whispered, your voice betraying the ache within. Harry's embrace tightened, and he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I'll miss y’more, m’love," he murmured, the sincerity in his words resonating with the depth of his emotions.

Crouching down to pet Milo, Harry spoke to the pup with a soft smile, "Take care of mummy for me, little buddy."

Milo responded with excited barks, seemingly understanding the impending absence.

Standing up, Harry looked into your eyes, his own reflecting a mixture of love and longing.

Your gaze locked with his, finding solace in the promise of a future reunion.

"We'll have the most amazing belated birthday celebration," you said, trying to inject positivity into the moment.

Harry smiled, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"I can't wait f’that. Until then, stay strong f’me," he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

As the door closed behind him, the echo of his departure resonated through the silent space. Left with the imprint of his touch, the memory of his presence, and the anticipation of his return, you and Milo faced a home that suddenly felt emptier without him.

"I'll make sure t’send y’pictures from Italy," Harry called out from the hallway.

"And don't forget to spoil Milo a bit extra for me!" he added with a playful grin, the reassurance in his voice providing a small comfort amid the impending distance.

The day of his actual birthday, you woke up at seven am, which meant it was eight am for Harry.

It was a nice early face time call, in which you had called someone from the town near your shared beach house and got them to deliver flowers so they we’re scheduled to arrive whilst the two of you were calling, so you could see his face when he received them.

Little did he know, as the virtual celebration concluded, that you were already en route to Italy to surprise the love of your life.

His manager, Jeff, had orchestrated the clandestine journey, booking a flight that not only allowed your presence but accommodated Milo, your loyal puppy companion.

On the fairly empty flight, with just a few scattered passengers, you found solace in the quiet journey across the skies. Milo, nestled on the seat next to you, peacefully dozed off, completely unaware of the grand surprise awaiting his owner.

The hum of the plane engines provided a soothing backdrop as you envisioned the joy that would light up Harry's face when you appeared unexpectedly in celebration of his special day.

Upon landing in Italy, you and Milo were swiftly escorted off the plane by a discreet security team. The importance of maintaining the surprise for Harry became evident as the team efficiently navigated through the airport. The mission was clear: to whisk you away from the public eye, avoiding any chance of word spreading that Harry's wife had arrived.

Passing through passport control with just a carry-on bag in tow, the security team ensured a seamless transition. The anticipation heightened as you and Milo moved through the airport, surrounded by the subtle hum of secrecy. Every step taken was a careful manoeuvre to preserve the surprise and shield the unfolding celebration from prying eyes.

Exiting the airport, you were guided to a waiting jeep. The security team orchestrated a smooth transition, knowing that time was of the essence.

Jeff:

H just left for a meeting, so you’ve got at least an hour to get everything ready !!

As the jeep sped toward the villa, Jeff's text notification illuminated your phone screen. His message revealed that Harry was currently engrossed in a meeting, providing a valuable window of time to set up a birthday surprise.

The prospect of transforming the house into a beautiful haven of celebration filled you with excitement. Knowing you had at least an hour before Harry's return heightened the anticipation, and thoughts of his surprised expression fueled your determination.

The journey continued through the picturesque landscapes of Italy, the half-hour drive feeling like both an eternity and a heartbeat away from reuniting with Harry. Milo, sensing the energy, shifted restlessly in anticipation, adding an extra layer of warmth to the already charged atmosphere within the jeep.

The realization that the culmination of meticulous planning was drawing near only fueled your eagerness.

The mere thought of seeing Harry after two days of separation fueled your determination to make this surprise an unforgettable celebration of love and connection. The countdown to the reunion had begun.

"Here we are," the driver announced as the jeep came to a stop in front of the villa. You thanked him and handed over a ten-euro tip, expressing gratitude for the swift and discreet journey.

Grabbing Milo's leash and your bag, you stepped out into the Italian air, the scent of anticipation mingling with the promise of celebration.

As you approached the door, the distinct aroma of Harry's aftershave enveloped you, confirming his recent presence. A pair of his white vans neatly placed by the entrance hinted at the intimate details of his daily routine.

With a smile, you inserted the key into the lock, unlocking the door to a space filled with the essence of the man you dearly missed.

"Milo, we're home," you murmured to your furry companion, who eagerly bounded into the living room.

The atmosphere inside resonated with familiarity, and Milo, seemingly aware of the joyous occasion, leaped onto the sofa, his tail wagging in sync with the pulsating excitement in the air.

Upon stepping into the villa, you wasted no time. The suitcase that accompanied you served as a treasure trove of celebratory delights. With swift precision, you unzipped it, revealing an inflatable 3 and 0, along with vibrant banners that spelled out "Happy Birthday."

The living room became a canvas for your creativity, and the decorations unfolded in a dance of colors and joy.

Inflating the giant numbers, you strategically placed them to catch Harry's eye the moment he entered. The banners crisscrossed the room, creating a vibrant tapestry of celebration. The atmosphere transformed with each decoration, turning the space into a haven of love and festivity.

The decorating didn’t take long, maybe around half an hour, so that left you waiting, and each minute felt like hell.

You so badly just wanted him in your arms.

Seated in the midst of the festive setup, you pulled out your phone, eager to share the news of your safe arrival with your family. Fingers danced across the screen as you texted messages of reassurance and excitement, capturing the essence of this special moment.

The living room, now a symphony of color and joy, served as the backdrop to your messages, each tap echoing the anticipation of the grand birthday surprise awaiting Harry.

As you sat in the living room, engrossed in your phone, the jingling of keys outside signaled Harry's arrival. Swiftly, you rose from your seat, Milo by your side, his tail wagging in silent excitement.

Attempting to be as quiet as possible, you made your way to the entry hall, your heart pounding with anticipation. The festive atmosphere of the decorated living room served as a backdrop to the impending surprise.

Harry entered, shutting the door behind him with a sense of routine. His tote bag dropped to the floor, and in his initial distraction, he failed to notice the pair of women's shoes by the entrance.

His gaze scanned the surroundings briefly before turning away, only to snap back with wide eyes when he caught sight of you standing there.

His mouth parted in shock, a mixture of disbelief and joy washing over his face.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Harry processed the unexpected presence before him. The shock gave way to a radiant smile, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. Milo's tail wagged furiously, mirroring the palpable joy in the room.

Harry's initial shock dissolved into pure joy as he stared at you standing in the entry hall. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed over, gathering you into a tight embrace. The warmth of his arms enveloped you, an unspoken reassurance of the love that bridged the distance between you two. Your eyes welled up with tears, mirroring the emotion evident in his gaze.

"Happy birthday," you whispered, the words carrying the weight of your love and the joy of this surprise.

As Harry lifted his head, his lips sought yours in a cascade of affectionate kisses. Each press was a testament to the depth of the connection shared, a celebration of love that transcended the days of separation.

The room, filled with decorations and the silent witness of Milo, became a sanctuary for this spontaneous reunion.

In the midst of the kisses, Harry's laughter bubbled up, the sheer delight of the unexpected surprise washing over him.

"M’can't believe you're here," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy, wagged his tail energetically, completing the tableau of love and celebration.

“I couldn't not see you on your birthday," you admitted with a warm smile, still wrapped in Harry's embrace.

"Milo missed his daddy so much that we had to come and surprise you." You winked playfully, a cheeky smile tugging at your lips. "And, well, maybe I missed you a bit too."

Harry's eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Y’really came all the way here just for me?" he asked, his voice filled with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy in the room, barked in agreement, tail wagging enthusiastically.

Cupping his face in your hands, you responded, "Absolutely. Birthdays are meant to be celebrated with the ones you love, and we couldn't let a few miles keep us apart, now could we?"

“But I’ve got meetings the entire day,”he pouted, head getting thrown back slightly. “But I wanna spend the entire day with you.”

You played with the peach fuzz at the back of his neck. “Well it’s a good job I’ve cleared your schedule then, huh?”

“Wait,”he snapped his head over to yours from where he was staring lovingly at Milo. “So I’ve got the whole day with you?”

“We’ve got the whole day together, baby.” You confirmed, watching as his dimples appeared on his face.

In need of a refreshment, you and Harry migrated to the kitchen. As he poured himself an ice-cold glass of water, you settled at the kitchen island, nibbling on a cracker slathered with butter.

Looking at Harry, you asked, "Any cravings for today?"

He grinned and replied, "Actually, I've been craving a nice stroll around the town with Milo. Maybe we can stop for some ice cream and, perhaps, a cheeky bottle of rouge."

Harry's eyes sparkled with the prospect of a leisurely day. He reached for your hand, fingers intertwining, and continued, "What do you think, love?"

You offered a small smile, well aware that your current circumstances limited certain indulgences. "Sounds lovely," you responded, playing with the cross necklace around his neck. "I'm up for a walk and some ice cream.”

The wine….not so much.

/ /

As the day wore on, bathed in the warm glow of the Italian sun, you changed into a pair of comfortable denim shorts and one of Harry's shirts, embracing the casual charm of the town. The borrowed shirt hung loosely on your frame, carrying the familiar scent that provided a comforting connection to Harry.

Together, hand in hand, you and Harry strolled along the old streets, a timeless backdrop for the unfolding birthday celebration.

Milo, ever the enthusiastic companion, trotted alongside, his leash held firmly in Harry's hand. The cobbled streets echoed with the gentle sounds of your footsteps, creating a serene melody as you explored the charming corners of the town.

The quaint architecture and rustic charm of the surroundings added a picturesque touch to the shared moments of the day.

The narrow alleyways led you to hidden gems and inviting cafés, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet treats filled the air.

Each step carried with it the promise of discovery and the joy of simply being together. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm hue over the town, and the leisurely pace of the day allowed you to savor the simple pleasures of the moment.

As you continued your leisurely walk through the charming streets of Italy, Milo suddenly stopped in his tracks, his nose diligently sniffing around the ground. With an amused grin, you watched as he searched for just the right spot to do his business.

After a moment of consideration, Milo found the perfect place, and you turned to Harry with a playful expression.

"Happy birthday to you," you teased, handing Harry the poo bag with a grin. He laughed and fake gagged, taking the bag with a theatrical expression of horror.

Milo, seemingly oblivious to the lighthearted banter, continued with his canine duties, contributing his unique birthday gift to the day's events.

Continuing your walk through the enchanting town, you and Harry engaged in easy conversation, the cadence of laughter punctuating the air. The narrow streets echoed with the shared joy of the day, every step deepening the connection between you two. Silly anecdotes and playful banter flowed freely, turning the casual stroll into a delightful journey of shared moments.

As you meandered through the old streets, each corner unveiled new surprises, and every twist and turn became an opportunity for discovery. The simple act of being together, immersed in the charm of the surroundings, fueled the laughter and strengthened the bond between you and Harry.

As you continued your stroll through the charming town, the sight of a small bistro with a quaint outdoor seating area caught Harry's eye.

"How about we grab a bite there? it looks like a nice spot," he suggested, nodding toward the bistro. You agreed with a smile, appreciating the thought of a cozy meal in such a picturesque setting.

Heading towards the entrance, you were met by a friendly waiter.

"How can I help you?" he inquired. Harry responded,

"Just a table outside, please." The waiter, with a welcoming smile, gestured for you to follow, leading you to a charming table nestled in the outdoor seating area. The sun cast a warm glow, creating an inviting ambiance for a leisurely meal.

Seated at the quaint table, Milo by your side, the waiter handed you the menus. "Browse through these, a waiter will be over shortly, and let me know if there's anything else you need," he offered before leaving you to peruse the options. The aroma of delectable dishes wafted through the air, enhancing the anticipation of a delightful meal in the heart of the town.

Harry, glancing at the menu, looked up at you with a playful grin.

"What are you in the mood for, m’love?" he asked.

You.

Wait what?

As you and Harry enjoyed the cozy atmosphere of the bistro, another waiter, a friendly woman with a welcoming smile, approached your table.

"Good evening! Do you know what you'd like to order?" she inquired, pen poised above her notepad.

Harry, ever decisive, was the first to respond.

"I'll have a glass of y’house red wine, please," he said, glancing at the wine list.

Turning to you, the waiter asked, "And for you, ma'am?"

You flashed a smile and softly shook your head.

"I'll just go for a fresh lemonade, please." Attempting to steer away any suspicion, you added, "Feeling like something light today."

Harry, catching the cue, chimed in, "Just a light and easygoing evening, you know?"

He winked at you, his eyes filled with playful complicity.

The waiter jotted down your drink orders and nodded. "Certainly, a glass of red wine and a fresh lemonade. Now, what can I get for your main courses?"

You perused the menu, deciding on a chicken salad, and Harry opted for the salmon antipasto. You exchanged glances, sharing a silent agreement on the choices. As the waiter collected your menu choices, she remarked,

"Excellent choices! Your orders will be out shortly. Enjoy your evening!"

With the waiter's departure, Harry leaned in with a teasing grin.

"A fresh lemonade, m’love? Feeling like a saint today, are we?" he quipped, his playful banter laced with affection.

You chuckled, playing along. "Well, saints need a refreshing drink too, don't they? Besides, I'm saving room for that delicious chicken salad."

Harry laughed, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. "Alright, alright, I won't question y’saintly decisions. S’just enjoy this lovely evening and the meal to come."

The waiter returned with your drinks about five minutes later, placing a glass of red wine in front of Harry and a refreshing lemonade for you. As she walked away, leaving you two to enjoy your beverages, you lifted your glass and initiated a spontaneous toast.

"Cheers to your birthday, my love," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with affection. "I just wanted to take a moment to say how much I love you. I can't wait to spend eternity together, celebrating moments like these."

Harry's gaze softened, and he blinked his glass against yours.

"To eternity and beyond," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "M’the luckiest person to have you by m’side. Here's to many more birthdays and unforgettable moments together."

The bistro's ambiance embraced the intimate exchange, and you continued to express your love and appreciation for Harry.

"You make every day special, but today, on your birthday, I want it to be extra magical for you," you confessed, your sincerity echoing in the quiet moments between sips of the refreshing lemonade.

Harry's smile widened, and he reached across the table to gently squeeze your hand. "Having y’here is the best gift I could ever ask for. Every moment with you is magical, and m’grateful for it all."

/ /

As the early evening settled around the villa, you found yourselves back in the comforting haven of your shared space. In the bathroom, bathed in a soft glow, you stood before the mirror, carefully removing mascara and eyeliner.

The simple act of cleansing away the day's makeup was a routine that marked the transition from daytime adventures to the quiet moments of the evening.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Harry lay on the bed, Milo nestled at his feet. He absentmindedly scratched at the short growth of hair on his head, a subtle reminder of a recent decision to shave it off.

The room radiated with a sense of tranquility as you each indulged in the rituals that marked the end of the day.

Wearing one of Harry's shirts that enveloped you in the familiar scent of him, you busied yourself in the bathroom, preparing a late evening birthday surprise.

The soft rustling sounds of your movements echoed against the backdrop of Harry's contemplative scratching, creating a harmony of shared space and intimate connection.

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror before deciding it was time to return to the bedroom.

Your hands were discreetly behind your back, holding a late evening birthday surprise for Harry. As you stepped into the bedroom, Harry, already seated on the bed, noticed your presence and sat up, beckoning you with open arms.

"I want a cuddle," he declared, his eyes twinkling with a playful warmth. Unable to resist his endearing request, you let out a soft giggle at his baby-like antics.

Playfully, you approached the bed as he beckoned you forward.

Crawling onto the bed next to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his arms. You laid your head on his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart echoing comfort and love.

The anticipation of the surprise gift still hidden behind your back added an extra layer of excitement to the intimate moment.

"I missed you," Harry murmured, his voice a gentle caress. You pressed a kiss over his heart, savoring the warmth of the connection. His arms tightened around you, embracing the familiar comfort of being close.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at Harry with a warm smile, saying, "I've got one last present for you. Close your eyes."

Harry hesitated for a moment, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, before obediently shutting his eyes. With gentle steps, you moved towards him, the late evening's golden glow casting a soft ambiance around you.

In your hands, you held a delicate gift, and with a mix of hesitation and tenderness, you softly placed it in Harry's hands.

"Okay, open your eyes," you instructed, your heart fluttering with a secret that had the power to change your lives forever.

Harry blinked his eyes open, and as he glanced down at his hands, a flicker of confusion passed over his face. Then, his gaze landed on the small object nestled in his palms.

It took a moment for the realisation to sink in, and when he saw what it was, his eyes widened, and he gasped.

"What... is this?" Harry stammered, his voice shaky with emotion.

His trembling fingers picked up the small pregnancy test.

The room fell silent as the weight of the revelation settled in. Harry's eyes locked onto the test, and tears immediately welled up.

"S’this for real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't some sick joke, right?"

You shook your head, a mixture of joy and vulnerability in your gaze. Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against his, tears streaming down both your cheeks.

"It's true, H. I'm eleven weeks pregnant," you whispered, the magnitude of the moment engulfing you both in a wave of overwhelming emotions.

Harry's breath caught, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes.

"I... we're going to be parents?" he uttered, a mix of disbelief and elation in his voice.

A tender smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "Yes, Harry. We're going to be parents."

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I can't believe it. M’going to be a dad," he mumbled against your hair, his voice filled with a joy that echoed through the room.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Harry leaned forward, his hand gently pressing against your stomach as if trying to connect with the new life growing within.

The tender touch conveyed a depth of love that words could only strive to express. His lips found yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, and as he pulled back, he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

“This is the best birthday ever,”he spoke, chocking out a soft sob. “Thank you m’love, thank you, thank you for making us parents.”

You softly placed your hands on his cheeks to get him to look at you, and when his green eyes met yours, you smiled at him tenderly.

“Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.”

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javierpena-inatacvest · 6 months

Text

Amor

Summary: After a bad day at work, coming home to his family makes Javi realize his day wasn't so bad after all

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Dad!Javi x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Tooth rotting, sickening, fluff 😩😭 Allusions to smut, breeding kink, dad!Javi needs his own warning bc oh my GOD (more specifically, girl dad!Javi...) (*Also general spoiler warning if you don't want to read NTL out of order!*)

A/N: Y'ALL. I told you the dad!Javi brain rot was UNREAL. After writing this, I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to stop writing for dad!Javi ever and I'm not even sorry about it 🤷🏼‍♀️ Don't mind me casually screaming from the rooftops about how much I am obsessed him okay BYE 🤪

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the NTL universe!

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

Shitty.

There were a lot of words Javi could have used to describe how his day at work had gone.

At 9:30, after his weekly phone call with border patrol, who provided him with little to no helpful information, the word would have been annoying.

At 11:15, after Agent Miller knowingly jammed the copier and left it for someone else to fix, leaving Javi with no way to make any copies, the word would have been frustrated.

At 3:40, after his department meeting with the other Sheriff’s Offices from the county, none of whom came prepared, as usual, the word would have been angry.

And now, at 6:15, after a spilled afternoon coffee, a giant stack of paperwork that had been thrown on his desk, and a pounding headache, the word to describe his day was nothing short of shitty.

Throwing his briefcase into the passenger’s seat, cranking the AC up and the volume of his car radio to zero, Javi sat in his truck, silently brooding in his moodiness to sulk in the misery that had been his absolutely shitty day.

The rest of his drive home was the same as his pouting in the parking lot of the Laredo County Sheriff’s Department- no music, no windows down, no grin on his face like his usual drives home after work. Javi couldn’t remember a day at work this shitty since the DEA, and that in itself was saying something.

As Javi pulled onto your street, dust swooshed beneath the bouncing of his truck tires along the gravel road, the sun just beginning to fade from its vibrant yellows and oranges to its soft pinks, beaming behind the clouds scattered throughout the September sky. The view was just enough to snap him out of his overbearing funk- the brightly colored sunset painted behind the view of your house and tiny, shadowed figures dancing in the driveway meant that nothing else in the world mattered anymore. Not frustrating colleagues, piles of paperwork, even spilt cups of desperately deserved coffee. The only thing that mattered to him now, were his 4 favorite people in the world, waiting for him to come home. The only thing that mattered was his family.

Lucy was the first to notice Javi’s truck rolling down the driveway, immediately prompting the 4 of you to pause your soccer game that had been happening in the front yard, which, after your two year old had decided she wanted to get involved, had really turned into more of a match of “Chase Harper through the grass as she tries to run away with the soccer ball”.

“Daddy’s home!” Lucy and Elliot squealed, bolting towards Javi’s truck as it finally reached a halt at the end of the driveway, prompting you to scoop up Harper and follow behind, knowing she would be just as thrilled to see her dad, even if her little legs couldn’t keep up with her older sisters' quite yet. The girls bounced in excitement, frantically waving at Javi as they waited for him to exit the car.

From the moment the driver’s side door was open, and both Javi’s feet were on the ground, Lucy and Elliot were wrapped around Javi’s waist, squeezing him with a love and affection that instantly eased every last bit of stress, melting away any remnants of the previous parts of his day.

“Hi Daddy!” The girls giggled in delight as they latched tighter around their dad’s hip, the feeling instantly making him crouch down to their level and drape his arms around them, pulling them in as closely as he could in return.

“Hola, Pollitas.” (Hi, little chickens). The sigh Javi let out was like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, hugging his girls just a little tighter and longer than normal, almost as if he couldn’t bear to let them go.

“Daddy, you’re squishing me!” Elliot squealed, wriggling her little body in Javi’s grasp.

“Yeah, Dad, you’re gonna crush us!” Lucy teased, both the girls bursting into laughter as Javi gave them one last squeeze before hosting them up, letting their little legs flail as he shook them in his grasp before setting them back down, pressing a soft kiss on each of their heads.

“Crush my Pollitas? Never. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Javi teased back, making the girls roll their eyes.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Harper cooed, outstretching her arms towards Javi as the two of you made it to the driveway, Javi immediately scooping her up from you and hosting her in the air, peppering her with little kisses across her body, making her squeal just as loudly as her sisters.

“Mi mas pequeño amor (My littlest love).” Javi grinned, resting Harper against his hip as his little fan club had finally parted ways enough for you to greet your husband, gently cradling his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the sweet taste of him that felt like home.

“Hi.” You smiled, pulling back just enough to see the sweet grin spread across his face before leaning back in for a hug, letting the warmth and scent of his body engulf you whole, making the grin on your face just as wide as his. “Long day?” You asked, still pressed against his chest, noting his arrival time back home was later than normal.

“Not anymore.” He beamed, staring down at you with that tender gaze that still made you melt, even after all your years together.

“Daddy, can I show you the picture I made you in art today? Please, please, please?” Lucy pleaded, once again wrapped around Javi’s hip, gently tugging at his shirt for his attention.

“I made one, too!” Elliot interjected, crossing her arms in defiance, a shocked look on her face that her sister dared to leave her out of the art contribution about to be made to their dad.

“Your little artists have been hard at work today.” You grinned. “I’m pretty sure the Peña house is going to soon be a nationally recognized museum for pictures of puppies, Daddy, and gorillas.”

“Gorillas? That’s a new one.” Javi laughed, looking at you with a confused tilt of your head, your only response to shrug your shoulders in just as much confusion and amusement.

“Mrs. Collins read us a book about them in library today! So I showed Elliot and Harper how to draw them!” Lucy beamed, proudly crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied nod.

“I’m sure they’re amazing, mi amor (my love), gorillas and all.”

“Alright goobers, now that Daddy’s home it’s time for dinner, why don’t you go clean up the rest of your art stuff and we can show Daddy your pictures before we eat.” You smiled, Javi gently setting Harper back on the ground, only to quickly be scooped back up again by Lucy, the 3 girls racing through the front yard and into the house, giggling and screeching in excitement the whole way there, leaving you and Javi watching your daughters dash across the driveway.

Once the girls were out of sight, Javi’s hands slid down your sides, fingers pressing into your hips as he tugged you in closer, making your rest your hands on his broad chest as he kissed you, now making you giggle as he grabbed an unexpected handful of your ass, giving it a playful smack as you swatted at him, rolling your eyes.

“You’re in a surprisingly good mood for having a shitty day at work.” You smirked, biting down on your lip as you raised a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“How’d you know I had a bad day at work?” Javi asked, cocking his head in confusion, hand still gripped tightly around the small of your back.

“Because I know you like the back of my hand, Javier Jesús Peña. I could just tell. Plus, you always give those girls an extra big hug after a long day, since I know how much you miss them, even though you literally saw them this morning.” You snickered, lovingly nudging Javi before pressing another kiss onto his lips.

“What? Like it’s a crime to miss my family while I’m stuck in terrible fucking meetings and doing shitty ass paper work all day? To wanna spend all my time with my beautiful daughters and their even more beautiful momma? Fine, guilty as charged, I guess.” Javi winked, gently tracing his thumb on the soft skin of your stomach, barley peeking out between your shirt and shorts.

“Well I guess the five of us will all just head off to Peña prison together since we’re all guilty of missing you just as much.”

“God, you’re such a dork.” He sighed, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I love you so much, Osita.”

“I love you too, Jav.” The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the comfort of each other’s embrace, forever your favorite feeling. “Okay, we should probably get back in there before the munchkins get up to no good, huh? In addition to trying to teach Elliot and Harper how to draw gorillas, Lucy was also trying to teach them how to body check someone when they played hockey in the driveway.”

“They are their mother’s daughters, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Plus, I apparently have some pictures of gorillas to go see.” Javi chuckled, reaching back to open the passenger side door of his truck to pull out his bag as the two of you headed back towards the house.

“Well, if you needed something to make you feel better, looking at Elliot’s attempt at drawing you, her, Lucy and Harper riding on a purple gorilla while I chase you riding a rainbow gorilla will probably do the trick.” The two of you laughed, walking hand in hand to the front door, pausing one last time on your porch before entering back into the giggles and grins filling your home. “And if that doesn’t work, I bet after we put the girls to bed, I can think of something else that might help you feel better, too.” You smirked, eyeing Javi up and down with a mischievous grin spread across your face.

“Yeah? You gonna let me give me baby number 4, huh Momma?” Javi’s face lit up, biting down on his lip, his eyes wide and smirk even bigger than yours.

“Bold of you to assume the rainbow gorilla isn’t enough. Guess we do have an extra room to fill, don’t we?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge before heading through the door, joining the girls in the kitchen, eagerly waiting with drawings in hand to show their dad. As Javi trailed behind you, greeted by the image of his wife and daughters gleefully gathered around the kitchen counter, waving their colorful papers at him, he couldn’t help but feel his heart burst at the seams, flooded with sense of love and comfort that he was convinced nothing else on this earth would ever be able to top.

Even on the shittiest of days, Javi knew that nothing could really ever be that bad, knowing he would get to spend the rest of his life coming home to the 4 people in the world that made it all worth it. Knowing he would spend his forever surrounded by the love of his family.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @dappydelta @blackfemalenerd

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bell4lan · 7 months

Text

Nightclub

Genre: Smut

DNI: NON-MLM/NBLM, fujoshis, mlm/nblm fetishizers, trans fetishizers

CW: Semi-public sex, bathroom sex, feminine words used for privates (cunt, pussy), words like t-dick, dick, and folds are used to describe reader's privates too, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, reader is called "good boy", "baby boy", and "whore", age difference (6 years), alcohol use, they're not too intoxicated to consent I promise

Character(s)/Reader: Top Wriothesley x Bottom Trans Male Reader

You slammed the door as you stormed out of your apartment. Your boyfriend was being a total ass, trying to gaslight and manipulate you into thinking he never cheated on you with one of his friends. Although you didn't explicitly say the words "we're done", you both knew it was over, and he hated that. You still had to get your stuff out of the shared apartment, but you were far too hurt and angry to even see him or anything he owns. Archons, you needed a drink.

You found yourself in a nightclub surrounded by intoxicated college students having the night of their lives. You wish you were in their position. Instead you're a sober college student having the worst night of your life. You scanned the room for the bar and quickly pushed through the crowd once you found it.

"3 shots of tequila please." You said tiredly as you sat down. The bartender nodded and quickly grabbed the shot glasses and filled them with the alcohol. You downed one, face contorting as it burned your throat, it was a good burn.

"Bad night?" A man to your right asked as he watched you down the second shot. You nodded, and then downed the third and ordered 3 more. "What's on your mind?" He asked before sipping his drink. You glanced over at the man expecting some desperate and tired looking college student, but no. The man was older, definitely out of college but definitely not 10 years older than you. He was muscular and tall, dressed in a button down that wasn't fully buttoned up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and some slacks. He was sexy as fuck.

"My boyfriend cheated on me." You replied flatly and grabbed a fourth shot. The man shook his head disapprovingly as he sipped his drink again, waiting for you to continue. "At first he tried to deny it and say it was all in my head and that I was overthinking, but once I showed him the proof I had he started blaming me for it." You scoffed before downing the fourth shot. You didn't know why you were telling your dirty laundry to a man you started talking to maybe 5 minutes ago, but you needed to get this anger out of your system somehow.

"What a prick." He said, all you did was nod and stare at him.

"So, why are you here? Waiting for someone?" You asked, not wanting to get any angrier from the topic of your ex boyfriend. The man shook his head and sipped his drink again.

"Just relaxing after a long day at work." He said. That explained the outfit he was wearing. You continued the conversation from there, wanting to get to know the sexy man beside you. You barely understood what exactly he did for a living, but you did know he was a powerful man with a powerful position.

"You're a very interesting man (Name), so far the only interesting one i've met here." He chuckled after you told him more about you, making you smile.

"You know, i've learned so much about you and yet I don't even know your name." You pointed out. The man smiled at you before properly introducing himself.

"My name is Wriothesley." He said. His name was unusual, but it suited him well.

"My name is (Name). How old are you Wriothesley?" You asked.

"30. You?"

"24." You responded. He nodded, a little shocked from the age difference. He was expecting you to be at least 26. You smiled at his look of shock and decided to tease him.

"What? Too young for you?" You said, playfully nudging him.

"Not at all, it's only 6 years." He chuckled. Fuck his laugh was hot. This man was the sexiest man you had ever seen in your entire life. It wasn't just his looks. His personality, sense of style, voice, they were all enough to make you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to calm down.

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me old man." You teased.

"You'd be surprised as to what I can do." He replied, smirk growing from your words. The sexual tension between you two was so thick it could be cut with a knife. You wanted him, he wanted you, but you both were hesitating to make the first move.

"Oh yeah? And what can you do?" You asked, moving closer to him. His left hand moved to your thigh and gripped it firmly.

"How about I show you?" He smirked. Your breath hitched and you quickly nodded, not wanting to pass up sex with such a fine man. You both got up and he led you to the bathroom, closing the door once you both were in. The moment you heard the door click closed you kissed him, pushing him against the door as you desperately moved your lips against his. His strong hands gripped your waist and pulled you against him, the both of you moving your hips to grind on each other. He started walking you toward the sink, pushing you up against it as he kissed you. His hands unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down along with your underwear, breaking the kiss to get a good look at you. You realized you never told him you were trans and instantly felt insecure.

"Shit- sorry I should've told you. I was too caught up in the moment and-" You were cut off with a passionate kiss. He pulled away again and cupped your cheek with one hand, the other one on your hip.

"It's fine, don't worry. There's no need to apologize." He said calmly. His words were so kind that you didn't know what to say, so you just nodded. His hand moved from your cheek down to your cunt and felt up your folds and t-dick.

"You're so fucking wet for me. How long have you been thinking about this hm? Be a good boy and tell me." He commanded, voice dripping with seduction. His thumb went to your t-dick and stroked it as he waited for a response.

"S-Since I saw you." You breathed out, trying your hardest to not moan as you spoke. He chuckled, and ran his middle and ring finger along your folds to get them lubed up. He ran them down to your hole and pushed his middle finger in. You moaned quietly at the intrusion, not used to such a thick and long finger inside you. He thrusted it in and out a few times before pushing his ring finger in, biting his lip as you squeezed him.

"You're so tight, I think you'll be the one unable to keep up with me." He whispered as he thrusted the two fingers in and out. Your moans got louder as he sped up, your hands gripping onto his shoulders to help you keep your balance.

Before you could cum, he pulled his fingers out and sucked on them, humming at the taste of you. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock. Your eyes widened at the size, he was thick and long, longer than your ex that's for sure. He chuckled at your reaction and told you to turn around and bend over the sink. Once you did, you felt his tip rub against your pussy and nudge your t-dick before going back to your hole. Slowly, he pushed himself in, hissing slightly at the tightness. You moaned loudly as your pussy stretched around his cock, getting fuller and fuller and he pushed in.

It wasn't long before he started thrusting into you, thick cock destroying your hole. You held onto the sink as tightly as you could as he pounded you, legs shaking as he fucked into the spot that made you see stars.

"Wr-Wriothesley- Wrio- fuck~." You whined, trying to get his attention. He slowed down a bit so you could speak properly.

"What is it baby boy? Everything alright?" He asked gently. Although he treated you roughly and said the filthiest things to you, he was worried about harming you. All he wanted was to make you feel good.

"U-Uncomfortable- ngh." You stuttered as he slowly thrusted into you. You didn't know how much longer you could stand like this, and the sink pushing against you with every thrust was starting to hurt. He pulled out and turned you around, picking you up so your legs would wrap around his waist. He pushed you against the wall and carefully inserted his cock into you again, biting his lip when you moaned out his name. His pace picked up and soon you were screaming out his name again as he fucked you against the wall.

"Wrio-th-thesley i-i'm so cl-ose!" You whimpered, bucking your hips trying to get him to give your dick some attention. He got your hint, and held you in one hand as the other stroked your t-dick, still thrusting into you.

"Yeah? Y-You gonna cum all over my cock baby boy? How does it feel getting- f-fucked like a whore by a man you met two hours ago h-huh?" He stuttered, feeling himself get closer as your pussy clenched around him, faces just inches apart.

"F-Feels so g-good Wriothesley!" You responded, voice breaking from how close you were. Your thighs tensed as he kept thrusting into you and stroking your t-dick. The thing that pushed you over the edge was him whimpering your name into your ear. You came hard all over his cock, squirting a little bit as he kept fucking you.

"Fuck i'm gonna cum." He whispered as he kept fucking you.

"C-Cum inside me." You whined, tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation. He looked at you a bit worried.

"A-Are you sure?" He asked, dick twitching at the thought of finishing inside you. You nodded quickly and squeezed your cunt around him. Soon after, he came with a groan, hot cum spilling inside of you. His thrusts came to a stop as he softened inside you, both of you trying to catch your breath. He kissed you passionately as you both recovered from your orgasms, tongues intertwining and hands gripping onto each other.

"Fuck i've never met a man as sexy as you (Name). You're fucking perfect." He panted as his thumb ran across your bottom lip. Carefully, he pulled out and grabbed you since you couldn't stand on your own. He looked down and saw as his cum dripped down your leg. You heard him whisper "fuck" before he kissed you again. You couldn't believe you had found such a man, one that showed you more love and care in 2 hours than your ex had in 2 years. You didn't know what kind of relationship you wanted with him, but you knew for sure you wanted to fuck him again.

You broke the kiss to catch your breath and tell him you both should clean up. He nodded, but didn't move. He swallowed heavily as he looked into your eyes, seemingly nervous.

"Would you like to spend the night at my place?" He asked politely, his hand cupping your cheek. You smiled at him and nodded, moving your hand up to hold his.

"Of course, but if you don't clean me up soon I'll change my mind." You said, making him laugh. He quickly yet carefully cleaned you up and helped you get dressed. He held onto you as he led you to the exit, but before you got there you stopped.

"Shit I didn't pay for my drinks. We need to go-"

"Don't worry about it." He cut you off. You looked up at him confused.

"What? Wriothesley i'm not going to leave without paying." You said firmly.

"I own the place baby boy, you don't have to pay." He whispered into your ear. Your eyes widened, a smile forming on your face as you looked at him.

"Do you say that to every guy you take home?" You joked.

"Only the ones that really peak my interest." He said smoothly.

"But you said I was the only interesting guy you've met here?"

"I know." He replied, not looking at you as he led you to his car. You could feel butterflies erupt in your stomach as you realized what that meant. You were the only guy he's taken home? Were you really that special?

Maybe you do want something more with this man. You hoped he felt the same, little did you know he's felt that way since he saw you.

---------------------------------------------------

I was not expecting to start and finish a story today but I really hope you guys enjoy it! I really like this story and am quite proud of it ^^

#genshin impact x male reader #genshin x male reader #ftm reader #wriothesley x male reader

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suguwu · 5 months

Text

christmas countdown

Your company is taking on a new project and desperately wants the backing and expertise of retired CEO Jing Yuan. Dispatched out into the countryside to bring him on board, you find it won't be as easy as you think.

Jing Yuan strikes a bargain with you: spend the upcoming days with him, until Christmas Eve, and he'll tell you exactly what it will take for him to come back if you don't figure it out yourself.

Let the Christmas countdown begin.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

pairing: jing yuan x gn!reader

word count: 16k (whoops)

notes: this came about through dms with my beloveds @petrichorium and @lorelune! they both were invaluable, and lore also was kind enough to beta for me, along with another friend. this fic feels like it possessed me; i wrote it in just over a week.

fic notes: hallmark au, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), jing yuan is taller than the reader, age gap (jing yuan is in his early 50s, reader is in their late 30s), this is mostly just fluff.

divider by @/cafekitsune.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“This is the third Christmas you’re missing,” she says, voice thickening, and you can almost see the way her eyes are going glassy with tears, shining beautifully in the light.

“I know. But this project is huge and I’m so close to the promotion—”

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“This is different. The CEO herself asked for me,” you say with a sigh.

“When would you leave?”

“I leave tomorrow.”

“That’s almost a week until Christmas! Maybe you’ll get back in time! Or maybe it can wait until the new year?”

“No, Mom. The project is waiting on getting this person on board, it can’t wait that much longer. It’s just Christmas, I don’t see why this is such a big deal.”

“It’s time with your family,” she snaps, the words shattering at the edges, honed keen with hurt.

“I’m sorry. Next year, okay?”

“That’s what you said last year.”

“Mom.”

“Fine. But think about it, please. We miss you.”

You sigh. “I miss you guys too.”

The conversation continues on from there; she tells you that your father has taken up gardening, renting out a space in a greenhouse nearby, coaxing it into a full lushness that has him coming home flecked with flower petals. He’s already plotting out a vegetable garden come spring.

You listen as she chatters away, throwing in the occasional “uh-huh” as you scroll through your emails, typing as quietly as you can. You pause as she goes silent.

“Mom?”

“Are you working right now?”

You wince. “I just had a few emails—”

The line goes so quiet that you reach for your phone to see if your earbuds have disconnected. They haven't. Your stomach roils.

“Mom?”

“We’ll talk later, then,” your mother says, and the pit in your stomach grows at the sorrow threading through her voice. “Good night.”

You hesitate. Then your email pings again.

“Night, Mom.”

She hangs up, and the click of the line sounds like a dour bell, but it’s chased from your mind by the bright chirp of your email. You settle back down with your laptop, digging into work once more.

When you finally glance up from your laptop screen hours later, your eyes stinging, you realize it’s snowing.

In the orange glow of the streetlights, the flakes look like embers flickering through the sky, like the sparks of a bonfire on a summer’s eve. It’ll be stomped into slush tomorrow, trodden under so many boots, but for now the snow dances through the air, a ballet all its own.

It muffles the world, blanketing your apartment in oppressive quiet, and not for the first time you feel small in your own home. You shiver. The high ceilings of your apartment feel like a gaping maw, arching and empty.

You shift uneasily and turn on a soft lofi playlist despite the headache that’s settled in at your temples. It fills the air, creeps all the way to the empty corners of your apartment and softens them with sound.

You let out a gentle breath. Still, something cold uncurls behind your ribs, sinks its teeth into bone until it hits marrow. You pick up your phone, swiping up to your messages with your best friend, and you’re halfway through typing out a message before you catch yourself. A quick glance at the clock makes you wince. Your phone thunks against the table as you toss it down.

It’s late and she has a new baby—she needs as much sleep as she can get. You can’t disturb her, not for something as silly as this. You scrub a hand over your face and get to your feet.

It’s quiet as you get ready for bed, even the soft music doing little to soothe you. You turn on every lamp in your bedroom, flood the room with light, until it’s as if the sun has risen and is cradling you in its warmth. You keep them on until the last moment, flicking them off only when you’re tucked in bed.

That cold thing stays with its fangs sunk in until you fall asleep.

***

The airport is nearly deserted by the time you land.

It’s late, night blanketing the terminal, held at bay only by the light pollution of the airport. Your shoes click against the linoleum as you hurry through the empty hallways, eager to be done with your exhausting day of travel.

The taxi driver that heaves your suitcase into the trunk is talkative, but you’re too busy checking your phone, flicking through the emails that poured in while you were in the air. The car rumbles to life beneath you as you pull up an attachment, scanning over the analysis quickly, scratching out a few notes on a scrap piece of paper you’ve pulled from your bag. The countryside rolls by as you work, pitch black except for a few lit windows from passing houses, little lighthouses in the deep sea of the night.

“Here we are,” the taxi driver says cheerfully, killing the engine in front of the inn.

It’s clearly old but well-maintained, a piece of the past caught in the resin of time. There are fake candles guttering in each window. The wreath on the door is almost as big as the door itself, dotted with lights that twinkle like little silver stars and topped off with a perfect crimson bow.

“Thanks,” you say to the driver, trading a tip for your suitcase before heading up the steps of the inn. The scent of pine wafts around you; you step inside before it can stick to your clothes.

“Hi,” you say to the receptionist, who puts down her magazine. “I’m here to check in.”

“Name?”

You tell her. She nods and you check your phone again as she checks you in. Luckily, it doesn’t take long, because the long day is beginning to weigh on you, an ache deep in your bones.

“Let us know if there’s anything you need,” the receptionist says.

“Thanks.”

You pay little attention to the room, simply stowing your suitcase before pulling your laptop from your carry-on bag. There’s a small desk that you settle at; your laptop screen glows brightly as you open it. The world blurs, smears like a watercolor. You blink the fuzziness away to answer a few more emails.

A few turns into many, catching up on all of your current projects now that you have another project to take care of. The headache that slowly blooms is familiar; it lingers behind your left eye, throbbing like a wound. It’s what finally gets you to set down your laptop for the night. It’s late enough that when you peer out the window while getting ready for bed, even the stars seem to have gone cold, twinkling faintly.

By the time you crawl into bed, you don’t even want to look at the clock. Still, you see it when you set your alarm, and you wince. You only have a few hours before it goes off. You curse yourself and roll over to finally, finally go to sleep.

Tomorrow comes too quickly. You wake with the sun, before your alarm, watery light pouring into your room, pooling in soft gold puddles on the floor. It catches on the prism dangling from the window, throwing rainbows against the walls, a whirling ballet of color.

You make a mental note to close the curtains tonight. You hadn’t even realized they were open, with how dark the countryside is around the inn, far too used to the ambient light of the city. When you peer out the window, all you see is woods framing a large, clear space still dusted with snow.

In daylight the inn is even more quaint, brimming with Christmas decor: with thick garlands draped over the doorway arches, weighted down with golden ornaments that catch the light, sending it flickering like the flames roaring in the fireplace. Sprigs of holly are tucked among the garlands too, little fireworks of color. Add in the mounds of fake snow lining a sprawling ceramic village and it’s a picture-perfect display. You trace a finger over the tiny wreath on the village bakery’s door.

“Mornin’,” someone says behind you, a deep rumble of a voice, shaking through you like thunder splitting the sky. You turn around and find a man beaming at you.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Looking for breakfast? It’s in the dining room, right through there.”

“I was really just looking for coffee.”

“That’s in the dining room too,” he says. “I’m Lee. I own the inn with my husband.”

“Oh,” you say. “That’s nice. It’s lovely. I’m sorry, though, I really have to get to work.”

He raises a brow. There’s a whole conversation in that brow, you think. One you’re not interested in having.

You give him a tight smile. “Excuse me,” you say. “That coffee is calling me.”

“Sure,” he says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

You trade nods with a few other guests as you get your coffee, but you’re in and out of the loud dining room in a matter of minutes. Your room, foreign as it is to you still, is a welcome respite from the chatter that fills the inn.

The coffee is good. It’s rich and nutty, the warmth of it warding off the slight chill that lingers in the room from the large windows. You try to peer out one of them but it’s whorled with frost, ice spun over the glass like embroidery, just opaque enough to let in the light.

You settle back down at the little desk and boot up your laptop. Your inbox has slowly filled up again, and you’re starting to work through it when your boss slacks you.

Qingzu: You’re off your regular projects for now.

Me: ??? I’m almost done with the analysis.

Qingzu: Fu Xuan wants you to concentrate on bringing Jing Yuan on board. I’ll delegate your usual tasks.

You wince. Your coworkers are going to hate you.

Me: I can still do the analysis at least.

Qingzu: What the CEO says goes. Focus on the job she gave you.

Qingzu: Also it looks like the address we have on file for Jing Yuan is outdated.

Qingzu: You might need to do a little searching.

Me: Okay.

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face before exiting out of your email. Not for the first time, you wonder why Fu Xuan didn’t reach out to Jing Yuan herself, considering she’d succeeded him at Luofu Corp. You’re not sure how negotiation from a stranger is the better option. And it would certainly have made your life easier.

At least she’s given you a profile on him. The picture is unnecessary considering how many magazine covers the man has graced, but it’s there, and you won’t say no to looking at a pretty face. Even in his official picture, there’s a small, lazy smile on his face. He looks half-asleep, but his golden eyes are knife-sharp.

A tactician's mind, Fu Xuan said, and you believe it.

You read through the profile carefully, taking in details large and small, trying to get a sense of the man you’re supposed to lure out of retirement. He’d retired early, barely into his fifties, and he’d only picked up a handful of projects in the last two years since, mostly charity work. You sigh, deeply jealous, and read on.

The profile isn’t particularly helpful; to be honest, you hadn’t expected it to be. You’ll need to meet him and gauge him for yourself to see what the best avenue is.

You shrug on your coat before leaving the room, slipping past a ragtag group of children. They’re led by a little girl in a hat bigger than her head, the fuzzy flaps of it bouncing as she scuttles down the hallway, her face shining triumphantly, a mug of hot cocoa carefully balanced in her hands.

You hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, glancing between the door and the front desk. You sigh and head towards the front desk. Lee smiles at you.

“Whatcha need?” he asks.

“I’m looking for someone in town,” you say. “I was hoping you could direct me to them.”

“Sure. Who is it?”

“Jing Yuan.”

His smile shatters at the edges, a slowly spreading crack. He leans back on his heels and eyes you up and down.

“You a reporter?”

“No.”

He nods to himself. “Should have known. You look a little too corporate for that.”

You smooth down your coat self-consciously. Maybe you should have brought some more casual clothing for this trip.

“Can you tell me where he is?” you ask.

“He’s not interested.”

“What?”

Lee shrugs, rocking back on his heels again. You think of a great pine tree swaying in the wind, bending, never breaking. “Whatever you want him for, he’s not interested.”

“How about he tells me that himself?”

“I’m sure he will,” he says. “If you can find him.”

“Which I assume you aren’t going to help with.”

“Sorry.”

You roll your eyes and stalk towards the door, wrenching it open and fleeing into the outdoors. The sun is shining but the air is frigid, the type of cold that sinks right through clothing and into your marrow. You shudder and pull up the collar of your coat to try and block the worst of the chill as you walk towards downtown.

It’s an easy walk; you find yourself in the heart of downtown in just a few minutes. It’s just as quaint as the inn, the lampposts lining the street decorated with wreaths faintly dusted with pristine snow. You glance up at the lights strung between buildings, shimmering like the icicles they’re mimicking.

It’s pretty, you suppose. You think people would flock here if they knew about it. Still, despite how small the town is, the streets are filled with people, some of them shouting greetings back and forth.

You duck into the crowds and weave your way through them carefully, pausing just before a cafe. A thought occurs to you as you take a quick peek through the frosted window. You peel off your gloves, holding them in your hand as you step into Auntie’s.

“Excuse me,” you say as one of the waitresses comes over to you, a tray balanced against her hip. “A man dropped these a block back and I thought I saw him come in here. I was hoping to return them. He was tall and had long white hair that he was wearing tied back. I think it was with a red ribbon.”

“Sounds like Jing Yuan,” she says. “You sure paid close attention to him.”

You cough, fidgeting with the leather gloves and she laughs. “Most people do,” she reassures you. You flash her a small, embarrassed smile. “He’s hard to miss, handsome as he is. I can give them to him next time I see him.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “If you know where he is, I don’t mind bringing them to him. I’m just enjoying wandering around town.”

Her eyes narrow; ice seeps into them, the slow creep of the first frost. Her grip tightens on the tray.

You blink at her guilelessly, trying not to hold your breath.

Her shoulders uncoil. “Sorry,” she says. “It’s just—nevermind. I haven’t seen him today. I’d check along Aurum. That’s the main street. If you don’t find him, you can come back here and I’ll give ‘em to him.”

“I’ll just check a few more shops,” you tell her. “I’m on the lookout for Christmas presents, anyway.”

“Cutting it close, aren’t you?”

“I know, I know,” you say. “I’m so bad about it. Thank you!”

“Bye.”

You hurry out the door, flexing your fingers against the cold as you keep your gloves in your hands. The second and third store yield the same results; the fourth shop is a bust too. The locals are more protective of Jing Yuan than you’d thought. You get a suspicious look every time you describe him, and that’s without even mentioning his name.

You step outside the fourth shop with a huff. At this point, you’re worried that someone is going to insist on keeping the gloves. There’s only so many times you can spin the same story before it bites you in the ass. Plus, your hands are freezing; the sunlight is doing little to warm the day despite the rays bathing half the street gold.

One more store, you think. Just one more.

You groan when you see the next store is a bustling toy shop. Children tug at their parents’ hands and smudge their noses up against the windows with gap-toothed grins. They spill out of the entrance like little ants, almost tripping over themselves as they babble excitedly to their companions. They part around you like flowing water as you make your way inside.

“Excuse me,” you say to the first person wearing a nametag that you see, holding out the gloves. “A man dropped these a few blocks back. I tried to catch up but couldn’t, but I thought I saw him duck in here. Have you seen a tall man with white hair tied up with a red ribbon?”

“Funny,” a rich voice says from behind you. “I don’t think those would fit me.”

You freeze.

The man peers down over your shoulder; a few strands of fluffy white hair brush against you as he examines the gloves you’re holding. He tugs one free of your slackened grip and holds it up against his hand, which dwarfs the glove. His low hum resonates through you, a honeyed drip of sound, soft and warm.

“A little small, don’t you think?” he asks.

You turn around.

Jing Yuan smiles at you, his eyes crinkling with it. There’s a wicked amusement tucked up secret in the corner of his full lips; you try not to scowl.

You see why Fu Xuan called him a scoundrel.

Still, there’s no way out of this. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” you say with a shrug. “And I did find you, so.”

He chuckles. “That you did.”

“I—”

“Uncle!”

You blink as a blond blur zips past you and almost crashes into Jing Yuan. The blur turns out to be a young boy—no older than twelve—carrying a sizable sword. It’s almost as big as he is.

“Uncle,” he says again, tugging at Jing Yuan’s sleeve. “Look what I found!”

“It’s a very nice sword, Yanqing,” Jing Yuan says, his smile softening. “But let’s wait and see what Christmas brings, hmm?”

Yanqing pouts for a moment before he glances at you. You realize he shares his uncle’s eyes, as golden as the sun. He blinks. “Are you another reporter?”

Jing Yuan leans down to be closer to his height. “Worse,” he whispers. “They’re corporate.”

The boy wrinkles his nose.

Jing Yuan’s smile threatens to turn into a grin. “Go put the sword back, please,” he tells Yanqing, and you watch him dart off again.

“Could I—”

“I’m afraid I’m busy,” Jing Yuan says. “And you may have heard that I retired.”

“I know, but—”

“Business has no place in a toy shop, you know.”

“That’s not what the toy seller would say.”

He tilts his head, a sliver of a smile unfurling on his lips. “I suppose so,” he says thoughtfully. “Either way, I am busy.”

“Fu Xuan sent me,” you try.

He sighs. “Yes, I had assumed.”

“If I could just get a bit of your time—”

“Not now,” Jing Yuan says. “I’m with my family.”

“But at some point?”

“You’re at the inn, yes?”

“I am.”

“I’ll come find you tomorrow. Does that work?”

“Really?” you say and cough as he smiles, golden eyes twinkling like the ornaments decorating the toy shop. “I mean, that works. Here, here’s my card.”

He takes it; it looks tiny in his hand. He says your name, rolling it over his tongue like he’s tasting it, like it’s something to be savored. Your cheeks heat. A small smile plays across his lips.

“Tomorrow, then,” you say.

He nods, his white hair swaying with it, like dandelion seeds caught on the wind. “Tomorrow. Come on, Yanqing.”

You start as the boy goes past you like a little darting fish, settling at his uncle’s side and tugging on his sleeve. “Can we go to the smithy?” he asks as the two of them turn to leave. “Please?”

Jing Yuan laughs, the sound rich, spilling over you like smooth chocolate. “Just to look,” he says, and they’re almost out the door when you realize—

“Wait!” you call out. “You still have my glove!”

Jing Yuan pauses and glances back, one golden eye rising like the sun over the mountain range of his shoulders. “Oh?” he asks, raising a brow. “I thought you said it was mine?”

Behind you, the employee stifles a laugh. Your cheeks burn. “I—”

He chuckles. “Here,” he says, handing it back. “I’d hate for you to be cold.”

Then he and Yanging are out the door, leaving you standing in the middle of the bustling toy shop. You clutch at your glove; it’s still warm from his hand, like the soft heat that lingers in the hearth stones long after the fire has gone out.

It occurs to you that you may be in over your head.

***

The feeling doesn’t go away the next day.

“Where exactly are we going?”

Jing Yuan flashes you a smile; the edges of it curl into something smug. He’d called early and met you at the inn, coaxing you into putting your coffee in a to-go cup before shuffling you out the door with no real explanation. “Christmas tree shopping.”

“Christmas tr—I thought we were going to talk about the project!”

“We are,” he says easily, pulling into a gravel parking lot surrounded by towering, barren oaks. In the distance, you can see a grid of pines, laid out like an embroidery pattern. “But it’s Christmas.”

“It’s five days away.”

“That’s basically Christmas,” he says cheerfully. He slides from the pickup with feline grace, the flex of his thighs obvious even under the thick denim of his jeans. You stay put in the passenger seat. He raises a brow. “You don’t want to talk?”

That sends you scrambling for the passenger door.

Jing Yuan doesn’t bother to hide the little smile that blooms on his lips, an unfurling flower. You scowl at him as you join him next to the pickup; it has no effect.

“Shall we?” he asks.

You huff and follow him onto the tree lot. He clearly knows where he’s going, weaving through the pines with a dancer’s ease despite his size. You stop at a row of sizable trees, their blue-green needles rustling in the wind. They’re dusted in the lightest layer of snow, like frosting sugar has been sifted over them.

You’re searching for the words to start your pitch when he hums.

“What do you think of this one?” he asks, testing the thick branches of a plush pine, watching critically as needles scatter everywhere. It releases a waft of the sharp tang of pine.

“It’s a tree.”

“Noted,” Jing Yuan says dryly. “Thank you for your input.”

“I don’t understand why I’m here,” you tell him as he moves on to the next tree. “I thought we would go to your office.”

“I don’t have an office,” he says. “And the rec center needs a Christmas tree.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

He glances at you. His eyes are the color of amber shot through with sunlight, a deep, rich gold. His gaze is knife-edged, a flaying thing, and it sinks beneath your skin to open you on its blade. You fidget with your sleeve.

When he smiles, it’s soft and maybe a little sad. He doesn’t say anything; he just hums again and moves to the next tree.

“Jing Yuan!”

“Keep moving,” he says. “We have to deliver the tree too, you know.”

“We have to what?”

He laughs, loud and bright. “You heard me,” he says cheerfully. “Now come on.”

You follow him through the rows, giving him clipped answers when he asks your opinion about a tree. Finally, after several more trees—that all looked the same to you, tall and full of pine needles—he finds one that he’s pleased with.

He tells you to wait with the tree and disappears down the row.

When he comes back, he has an ax.

“Um,” you say.

“Hm? Oh. It’s fine,” he says, resting the ax nearby as he ties his hair up into a high ponytail.

“Is it?”

He hefts the ax up and motions you back before swinging. He strikes true, the trunk starting to splinter under the hit, and the next one is in the exact same spot. The tree groans in protest, but Jing Yuan doesn’t pause. His powerful shoulders bunch and flex as he keeps the ax in motion with ease, though he’s beginning to pant a bit by the time he’s halfway through the trunk. Sweat glints on his brow; it dampens the edges of his hair, darkening it to the silver of the moon.

He swings the ax again, his biceps bulging, and a crack splits the air. The tree starts to topple, falling into its neighbor, which keeps it mostly upright. Jing Yuan wipes his brow, chest heaving, and belatedly, you realize you’re staring.

Behind you, there’s the crunch of pine needles under boots. Two men wearing name tags stride by you and clap Jing Yuan on the shoulder. They confer with him for a moment before they pick up the tree and start carrying it back towards the parking lot.

“There,” Jing Yuan says, sounding satisfied. “We can go now.”

“Do you often just…cut down trees?”

“Only at Christmas.”

You snort. He chuckles before gesturing you back to the parking lot. You head back and come up to the pickup just as the two men finish tying off the tree in the bed of the truck. Jing Yuan gives them firm handshakes; you pretend not to notice just how much cash is transferred between their palms.

The two of you climb back into the truck. You have to move your briefcase in order to sit comfortably and the sight of it sets you back on track.

“You said we’d talk about the project,” you accuse.

“You didn’t say anything,” he says, putting the truck into gear. “So there wasn’t anything to talk about.”

You scowl at him. He pulls out of the parking lot; the truck trundles down the road.

“Insufferable,” you mutter, but from the way the corner of his lips lift, he’s heard it.

Quiet falls. The radio is crooning a soft Christmas song, but it’s faint, like an echo of the past. The heater is on, and the truck’s cab is soft with warmth, like sinking into bathwater after a long day. You lean against the window. Your breath fogs over the glass, a marine layer, and you resist the urge to draw something in the mist.

The rec center isn’t far; you pull up to it just a few minutes later. Your phone rings just as Jing Yuan hops out of the truck.

“I need to take this,” you tell him. “It’s work.”

He hums, something flashing across his face. It’s gone quickly, rolling by like a summer storm, and you’re already picking up the phone, your coworker’s harried voice filling your ears.

The phone call takes a while. At one point, the truck rattles around you—a quick glance in the rearview shows a group of teen boys pulling the tree free from the truck bed, leaving a sea of needles in their wake, a forest floor brought home. Their laughter fills the air, audible even through your earbuds. You turn up the volume.

Jing Yuan shows back up just as you’re finishing your call. There’s silvery tinsel woven into his hair, barely visible except when it catches the sunlight, a lightning strike gleam. “You must be cold,” he tells you. “Come inside.”

You shake your head. “I need to go back to the inn,” you say. “I have a project that just went sideways.”

He sighs. “As you wish,” he says, and climbs back into the truck.

You flick through your phone as he drives back to the inn, answering emails and trying your best to put out the embers of the fire that had sprung up on your project. When you reach the last one, you click your phone off and glance at Jing Yuan out of the corner of your eye.

The cold wind has nipped at his cheeks until roses bloom on his pale skin. The tinsel in his white hair shines, the full moon draped in ribbons of silvery shooting stars, and he’s beautiful in an untouchable way, a statue come to life.

Except—there’s a small, lopsided smile tucked up secret in the corner of his lips. It sweetens his mouth and adds a puckish curve; it makes him real again. It’s a contentment that you didn’t know existed, a quiet happiness that radiates from him.

Something in your chest goes tight.

You clear your throat. He glances over at you, that tiny smile fading into something more polished.

“Something to share?”

“The project.”

“Ah,” he says. “That.”

“Yes, that.”

“I suppose you have me trapped, don’t you.”

“For as long as the car ride,” you agree.

“Go on, then.”

You give him a basic overview, sweeping over the vast lay of the project, upselling things you’ll think he’ll care about while cutting out a few of the things you think he won’t. It’s hard to tell how it’s landing; you’re slowly realizing that Jing Yuan is a hard man to read. You suppose it makes sense, considering his years at the highest level in corporate, but it feels odd.

“I can see why Fu Xuan wants me on board,” he says as he pulls into the inn’s driveway. “And it is the type of project that appeals to me, which she knows.”

You let out a soft breath. “I don’t suppose that means you’ll come on board?”

He parks. “No,” he says.

You sigh. “I thought not. What would it take for you to come on board?”

“Don’t you think it’d be more fun to find that out yourself?”

You scowl at him, ignoring the way the corners of his lips lift.

“No.”

Jing Yuan glances at you, his eyes gleaming, the sun come down to earth.“I'll tell you what,” he says. “Spend up until Christmas Eve with me. You can talk to me about the project until then. And if you haven’t figured it out by then, I’ll tell you exactly what will get me onto the project.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Deal,” you say, sticking out your hand. He shakes it, his grip firm. You can feel the heat of him even through your gloves. It’s soft like the early spring sun, a gentle warmth that blooms through you.

“Not that I mind, but I will need my hand back.”

You let go immediately, snatching your hand back like you’ve been burned.

Jing Yuan smiles at you, eyes crinkling.

“I have to go,” you say, scrambling for your briefcase. You think you hear him chuckle under his breath as you pop the door open. You don’t even say goodbye; you slam the door shut before striding off towards the inn, pretending your dignity isn’t lying in pieces.

At the inn’s door, you can’t help yourself. You glance back.

Jing Yuan smiles and gives you a little wave.

Your cheeks go hot, a supernova burn. You retreat into the inn quickly.

Lee calls out a greeting, but you ignore him and rush to your room. You curse Jing Yuan’s name as you boot your laptop up. Your cheeks are still warm. You scrub your hands over them as if that will help.

Your email pings. With a sigh, you scrub at your heated cheeks one more time before you delve into your inbox.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of phone calls and emails; by the time you look up, stomach grumbling, the sun has set, leaving behind only its reflection in the moon to lead the way. You push back from the desk and rub at your stinging eyes.

When you go downstairs to grab something to eat, the inn’s lounge is full of people. You balk, unsure, but your stomach rumbles again. You make yourself a plate and sit down at the edge of one of the crowded tables, picking away at the food as laughter fills the air around you.

There’s a couple at the other end of your table, hands intertwined as they talk, pressing close to hear each other over the noise. The shorter woman smiles at her partner, quick and bright, a shooting star burning through the night sky, and you look away.

Across the room, a group of teens are laughing among themselves, draped over each other casually. You watch them for a moment. They vie for the handheld console they’re playing with, passing it back and forth as they chatter excitedly.

Something cold slithers behind your ribs. It winds around the bones like ivy, sending roots down into your marrow.

You take the rest of your meal upstairs.

***

The morning light streams through the frost on your windows, the feathered whorls of ice glittering as they cast dancing shadows on the walls. Beyond your window, the inn’s yard is full of bundled up families swooping down the slight hill in brightly colored sleighs, their whoops barely audible.

You watch a little boy tug his father up the hill. He’s so wrapped up in layers that he’s waddling. He throws his hands up in the air as they coast down the hill, snow kicking up behind the sleigh, his father wrapping an arm around him to keep him steady.

Someone says your name.

“Sorry,” you say, coming back to yourself and the conference call you’re on. “Could you repeat that?”

They do and you refocus, tapping away at your keyboard as you sip at your coffee. You’ve stepped back into some of your usual projects now that you’re at Jing Yuan’s whim. He’s clearly a late riser, based on the time.

He calls when you’re on your third cup of coffee. He tells you only to meet him in front of the inn in fifteen minutes. You’re out the door in ten, stamping your feet on the inn’s porch to keep warm, tucking your chin into your coat’s collar in hopes of keeping warm.

Jing Yuan pulls up a few minutes later. He slides from the car gracefully, looking cozy in a fleece-lined bomber jacket. You tuck your chin further into your coat collar as the wind gusts. He eyes you for a moment.

“Do you have anything warmer?”

“I brought clothes for business meetings, not whatever you have planned,” you say irritably.

He chuckles. “Fair,” he says. “Hold on.”

He disappears to the trunk of the car. When he comes back, he’s got a thick scarf and hat with him, the knit of them full of lumps, clearly handmade. There’s a neon bright pom-pom on the top of the hat.

“No,” you say flatly.

He chuckles. “Alright.”

The wind chooses that moment to gust heavily, biting through every layer to kiss frigid against your skin. “Shit,” you bite out, and when Jing Yuan holds out the hat and scarf again, you take them.

You jam the hat on your head and wind the scarf around your neck before burying your chin in it, pulling it up over your mouth and nose. When you breathe in, the air is tinged with what can only be traces of Jing Yuan’s cologne, a faint hint of warm cedar and bergamot, woodsy and bright. Beneath that, there’s a hint of smoke, of woodfire. It drapes over you like a soft, warm blanket. You resist the urge to close your eyes to breathe it in again.

“Cute,” Jing Yuan teases. You glare at him, but from the smile he gives you, it’s not very effective. You glare harder.

“Let’s go,” he says, urging you towards the car with a gentle hand at the small of your back. You can feel the weight of it even through the thick material of your coat. When you glance at him, he’s already looking at you. He chuckles as you glance away.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you slip into the passenger seat.

He flashes you a coy little smile. “You’ll see.”

You huff; he just smiles.

It doesn’t take you long to get back to the rec center, but you make the most of it, chattering to him about the project, trying to figure out what to highlight based on his reaction. He responds amiably, even asks a few questions, but it’s not enough. You know it’s not enough.

When you arrive at the rec center, Jing Yuan pulls around the back of the building. Before you can even ask, the answer comes into view.

“Oh,” you breathe, cutting yourself off mid-sentence about the marketing strategy, taking in the massive skating rink. The bleachers are covered with twinkling lights and pine garlands, massive red bows dotted along them like flowers. There are lights overhead, too, dripping down like icicles. A Christmas tree sparkles in the far corner of the rink, weighed down with ornaments and topped with a shining star.

Jing Yuan parks and you balk.

“We’re not—”

“We are,” he says cheerfully, the corners of his lips curling up into a lazy smile.

“What does this have to do with the project?” you ask desperately.

“Ah ah, that would be telling.”

You gape at him. He chuckles and gets out of the car; you follow him after a moment. He guides you to the skate shoe rental hut and before you realize it, you have a pair of skates on and are at the edge of the rink. You’re not even sure how he convinced you.

Jing Yuan is already on the ice. He moves like a dancer despite his bulk, swaying over the ice like kelp in a current, rippling and beautiful. There’s something utilitarian to it too, not a single move wasted. An athlete’s precision.

He comes close to the edge and holds out a hand to you. “Ready?” he asks.

“I know how to skate,” you snap at him.

“Okay,” he says, skating backwards to give you enough room to kick out onto the ice.

It takes you a minute to find your feet, skates almost skittering out from under you, but you find your balance quickly and start to skate through the rink. The ice is smooth beneath you, perfectly slick, and you pick up speed. When you glance to your right, Jing Yuan is there, keeping up with you effortlessly, a small smile unfurling across his lips.

His hair is streaming out behind him, barely tamed by the thin red ribbon holding part of it back. You think of the pelting snow of a blizzard, beautiful and dangerous, and look away just as he turns to you.

“So shy,” he says, a laugh rumbling in his chest, and you consider how much it might hurt the potential of the project if you hit him.

“I’m hardly shy,” you tell him.

“That’s true,” he says. “I don’t think anyone shy would have claimed their gloves as mine.”

The tips of your ears go hot. “I needed to find you.”

“I’ve heard that you can ask people things.”

“I tried. They’re protective of you, you know.”

His smile softens, goes tender at the edges. “More protective than I deserve,” he says, so quietly it’s almost lost in the whipping wind.

You bite at your lip. You glance at him from the corner of your eye; his smile is distant now, like the sun dipping just below the horizon.

“Jing Yuan?” you say tentatively.

He blinks. “Hmm? Oh. Sorry.”

You hum. “You skate well,” you say instead of the question that’s lingering on the tip of your tongue.

“So do you.”

“My mom was a skater,” you say, looping around a tottering child. “She taught me when I was little. I haven’t gone in forever, though.”

“How come?”

“Too busy.”

“Too busy working,” he says, and it’s not a question.

You think of the Instagram photos from a few weeks ago, all of your friends at a nearby rink, glowing under the lights as they pile into the frame, caught eternally in joy. The pictures of the food afterwards, of the drinks they used to warm themselves up, each one dotted with a little sprig of holly.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Too busy working.”

He hums.

You push yourself to skate faster. He keeps up with you smoothly, his footwork impeccable.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You glance at him; he meets your gaze steadily, his eyes the color of sunlit whisky, deep and rich. “I’m not upset,” you say.

“Alright.”

The two of you skate quietly for a long while, keeping an easy pace around the rink, avoiding the wobbling tots being coaxed by their steady parents. Teens spin around in circles until they’re dizzy, falling to the ice with a laugh. There’s a girl holding hands with another girl as she scrambles across the ice like a baby deer. You watch them bobble along, a little smile blossoming on your lips.

“Careful,” you hear Jing Yuan warn, and you look up just in time to see a teen boy windmilling his arms as he comes straight at you. Before you can even blink, there’s an arm around your waist, tugging you out of the way. The momentum sends you directly into Jing Yuan; he turns the two of you quickly and grunts as he hits the rink’s edge, taking the brunt of the impact.

You end up pressed together. His arm is still slung low around your waist, holding you to him, the tips of your skates just barely touching the ground; you’ve fisted your hands in his coat to keep from falling. You can’t help but lean into the warmth of him. This close, you can smell his cologne more clearly. It’s different on his skin, the woodfire scent all but gone, while the cedar and the bright flash of citrus from the bergamot still lingers.

“You okay?” he asks, setting you down. His big hands are gentle as he steadies you, touching you as if you’re something fragile, something to be protected.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You still have your hands fisted in his jacket. You let go one finger at a time before stepping back.

“I’m fine,” he says, straightening up. “Doubt it will even bruise.”

“Thanks,” you say. “For the save.”

“You’re welcome. Think I’m done with skating for the day, though.”

“Me too.”

The two of you skate to the edge of the rink; Jing Yuan holds out a hand to help you from the ice. By the time you’re done returning the skates, the sun is setting, the fiery orange horizon giving way to the encroaching teeth of night.

“I should get back,” you say. “I still have some work to do.”

Jing Yuan glances at you. His gaze is assessing, golden eyes keen, and you wonder if this is what it felt like to be under his scrutiny when he was still a CEO. If other people felt his gaze like an autopsy cut, opening you for his perusal.

“Sure,” he says easily. “If you have to.”

“I do.”

He takes you back to the inn. Your goodbye is quiet, though he takes one last jab at how you look wearing the hat and scarf as he insists you keep them for now.

You watch him drive off, unable to shake the feeling that somehow, you’ve disappointed him.

You work for a while, your room quiet, before you give up in the middle of an email. You shut down your laptop and get ready for bed.

It takes you a long time to fall asleep.

***

“Do you really get up this late?” you ask, checking your watch as Jing Yuan climbs out of his car.

“No,” he says, sounding amused. “Do I give that impression?”

“They literally called you the Dozing CEO.”

“There are worse things to be.”

“That’s true,” you say thoughtfully. “Anyway, I wanted to talk about the second stage of the pro—”

“Later,” Jing Yuan says. “Right now it’s time for coffee. Let’s go to Auntie’s.”

The snow crunches under your boots as the two of you walk into town. The crowd is even bigger today, filling the streets. There’s a band at one end of Aurum, the musicians bundled up as they play lively Christmas music. They take a request from a passing child and they clap in delight as the band starts to play.

“Is it always like this?” you ask.

Jing Yuan nods. “The holidays are a big deal around here,” he says, holding the door to Auntie’s open for you. “It’s a close-knit community.”

He greets the hostess by name and asks about her family; she chatters familiarly with him as she leads the two of you to a booth.

“I can tell,” you say once she’s left. “Is that why you came here?”

He pauses.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine,” he says, giving you a little smile. It’s soft, that smile, and sweet at the edges. Your cheeks heat a bit. “But yes, that’s a large part of it. That and I wanted to be out of the city.”

“Really? I thought you loved the city.”

He tilts his head in question.

You cough. “Most of the profiles I’ve read say you like the city.”

“When I was younger,” he says. “But now, I find the quiet suits me.”

The waitress comes by with a coffee for him; he thanks her kindly before returning his attention to you.

“The quiet here has been nice,” you admit.

“Would you ever leave the city?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I’ve been there for almost twenty years now. I moved there when I was eighteen. Besides, that’s where my job is.”

He hums lightly. “So it is.”

“Speaking of—”

He sighs, cupping his coffee between his big hands to warm them. “Go ahead,” he says. “I said I’d listen.”

You launch into the second phase of the project, outlining the plans and how they’d be executed, as well as what his backing and involvement might look like. Jing Yuan drinks his coffee as he listens, only pausing you once so he can ask the waitress a question.

You wind down and he smiles at you. “You’re very convincing,” he tells you. “I can see how you got Feixiao to come on board for the last project that Luofu did.”

“But—” you say, knowing what’s coming.

“But I’m not sold.”

“Of course you aren’t,” you grumble under your breath. Jing Yuan breathes out a laugh and your face goes hot. “Sorry,” you say. “I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re very tolerant.”

“Am I?”

“You know you are.”

He chuckles. “I suppose I am,” he says. “Retirement has taken much of the bite out of me, I’m afraid. Though I don’t consider that a bad thing.”

“It’s not.”

He rests his chin on his palm, gazing at you from under his long lashes. Only one of his eyes is visible; the other is behind the silver of his hair, a sun hidden by clouds. His eye is heavily lidded, but his gaze is as keen as ever. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“Right,” you say, flustered and unsure why. “Me too.”

“I find the best part of retirement is the softness,” he says. “It gives you room to be gentle. With yourself. With others.”

“You sound like a self-help book.”

“I do meditate quite often,” he says, eyes crinkling with his smile. “I would recommend it.”

“I don’t have time to meditate.”

“All the more reason to find some time for it,” he says mildly, taking another sip of his coffee. A droplet clings to his lower lip; he catches it with his thumb before licking his thumb clean. You almost choke on air.

“Are you alright?” he asks, a coy smile unfurling on his lips.

“F-fine.”

That smile grows larger, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Alright. Let’s have a late breakfast, shall we?”

“Okay.”

The food comes quickly, filling the air with the scent of crisp bacon and the sharp, woody tang of rosemary. The eggs melt on your tongue, perfectly fluffy, and Jing Yuan smiles when you let out a pleased sigh.

“Good?”

You nod eagerly, taking another bite.

“Good.”

You’re both quiet as you eat; when it comes time to pay, Jing Yuan doesn’t even let you reach for the bill, simply handing the waitress his card with a flick of his wrist. His playful glare silences you before you can even protest.

When you stand to leave, he gestures you in front of him. He follows you out the door of Auntie’s and the two of you stop under the awning—hung with crystalline stars that catch the sunlight as they sway in the wind—to stay out of the way of the crowds.

“Walk with me,” he says, tugging lightly at the end of your (his) scarf.

“Okay.”

The two of you thread through the crowds; eventually, they thin out and you settle beside each other. You take in the quieter part of town, still Christmas ready, with fake candles flickering in the windows of the offices and thick wreaths adorning the doors.

“Pretty,” you say absentmindedly, toying with a ribbon as you pass, the material velvety under your fingertips.

“Yes,” Jing Yuan says, sounding fond, and he’s already looking at you when you glance at him. “Come along, we’re almost there.”

“Where?” you ask, but you round the corner and the answer is there.

The park is beautiful, even barren, with the tree’s empty branches reaching towards the yawning sky. A light dusting of snow covers the ground, though it’s turned to slush on the paths. You and Jing Yuan pick your way around the worst of the melt, until you find a massive gazebo.

It’s a sight. It’s draped in garlands, each dotted with sprigs of holly and bright little lights that flash like shooting stars. Poinsettias line the gazebo, their stamen golden starfish amid the sea of crimson.

“Wow,” you say.

“It’s my favorite place in the park,” Jing Yuan says. “Though it’s normally a bit more subdued.”

“I would hope so.”

“But it’s not what we’re here for.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he says, resting his hand on the small of your back and guiding you forward. “Let’s keep going.”

You talk quietly as you wander through the park until you suddenly notice there are a lot more people than there were before. Before you know it, you’re in a line. You look at Jing Yuan, but he simply smiles.

“No,” you say as the horse-pulled sleighs come into view.

“That’s what you said about skating, too.”

“Why is this town so into Christmas?”

“Why not?”

You sigh and let him guide you forward, abruptly aware that his hand is still at the small of your back. The weight of it prickles along your skin. He gives you a light push towards the front of the line.

The sleigh that pulls up in front of you is large. It’s decked out in garlands and holly, filled with soft, fuzzy blankets that look like they would keep you warm on even the coldest nights. The mare in front of it nickers, her tail flicking from side to side.

Jing Yuan slides into the sleigh with feline ease, though he’s broad enough to take up most of it himself. You hesitate.

He chuckles, patting the spot next to him on the bench. “Indulge me,” he says.

You sigh and slide in before sitting down. You immediately regret it. “It’s cold,” you whine, the chill seeping through your pants, but he simply tosses one of the blankets over you and tucks it in at the side, blocking out any chilly air.

“There,” he says. “Ready?”

“Okay,” you say, and the driver flicks her reins, sending the mare into a trot. The sleigh starts to slide forward and you grab onto Jing Yuan’s arm without thinking, sinking your fingertips into the muscle of his forearm.

He chuckles again and pats your hand. “You’ll get used to it,” he tells you.

“And if I don’t?”

“You can always keep holding on to me.”

You immediately let go.

He gives you an indolent smile. His eyes crinkle with it, and you want to curse him for being so handsome. Instead, you huff and bury yourself deeper under the blanket, which has slowly been heating.

“I could be working,” you mutter.

“Would you rather be?”

You blink, not having expected Jing Yuan to be listening to you that closely. “I—It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“I just—it’s what I’m good at,” you say, and it sounds like a question even to your own ears. “I’m a good worker. A hard worker. I don’t really have much else to offer, so it makes sense to work all the time.”

“I think you’re underestimating yourself.”

“What?”

“You have much more to offer than just work,” he says gently.

“I really don’t,” you say miserably. “I barely see my friends and I worry about overwhelming them, and my family is just—”

You pause. “And I also just said all of this to you, basically a stranger and also who I’m supposed to be recruiting, so this is just embarrassing now. Goodbye.”

He catches you by the wrist as you start to throw the blanket off and try to wiggle away from his side.

“And here I thought we were more than strangers by now. I’m a little hurt.”

“Jing Yuan!”

“Alright, alright,” he says. “But it’s okay. I’m here to listen if you want.”

“I don’t,” you say, refusing to look at him as he reaches over you to tuck the blanket back in around you. “Just forget I said anything.”

Silence falls, broken only by the steady trot of the mare and the soft jingling of the bells you hadn’t noticed on her bridle.

“That’s part of why I retired, you know.”

You glance at Jing Yuan out of the corner of your eye. He’s staring off into the snowy treeline, his golden eyes hazed over, the sun under morning mist. “I wanted to be good at something other than work. And I wasn’t.”

“That’s not true,” you say softly. “You and your friends—”

“Fell apart,” he says, and you subside. You know just as much about the group of company heads deemed The Quintet as anyone does, which is to say that you only know of their end. Their exploits, their dreams, all overshadowed. Companies—people—that rose into the sky and then fell, burning up in the atmosphere until they were meteors, destined to crash.

Jing Yuan, barely out of his twenties, was the only one left standing.

“I put in years of work to try and get everything right again,” he says. “To acquire their companies and do right by them. I did it, too. And then I stayed. Because I was good at it. Because I didn’t know what else to do.”

You chew on your lip before throwing caution to the wind. You rest your hand on his forearm and don’t move when he jolts. His eyes cut towards you, burnished amber, and the sharp edges of him soften.

“You’re more than just work,” he says. “I can promise you that.”

“Okay,” you say softly, because what else is there to say? “Okay.”

The both of you are quiet for a few minutes. You chew on everything that’s been said, careful not to sink your teeth into the meat of it. You’ll leave that for later, preferably in the dark of your own apartment. Next to you, Jing Yuan seems perfectly at ease, and not for the first time, you’re jealous of his composure.

“Look,” he says suddenly, nudging you gently. He points to where the park meets true forest, where the saplings grow teeth. “Rabbits.”

“Where?” you say, leaning around him to try and see it. “I don’t see anything.”

“Here,” he says, and suddenly you’re encased in warmth, his arms wrapped around you as he points. You peer down the line of one bulky arm and finally see a family of hares in the underbrush, their downy fur as white as the snow that surrounds them.

“How did you even see them?” you breathe, watching as one of them noses at another, who shifts back into the brush. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are,” he says.

The horse nickers and the hares freeze before darting off deeper into the underbrush. You watch until you can’t see them anymore. You settle back before realizing you’re almost in Jing Yuan’s lap, his strong arms still wrapped around you. He’s warm against you, his chest firm despite the slight softness around his middle, and you can feel his voice rumble through you as he asks the driver a question, one you can’t quite make out through the static in your ears.

You push away quickly, settling on the far side of the sleigh. It doesn’t do much, considering his size, but at least you’re further away from him. Hopefully without alerting him to anything.

From the puckish curl of his lips, that hope is dashed. Still, he says nothing, continuing to talk with the driver as you stare out the side of the sleigh, huddling under the blanket now that you’re bereft of his warmth.

After he’s spoken to the driver, he turns back to you, that same little smile blooming on his lips, an unfurling flower. You brace yourself.

“If you’re cold, the ride’s almost over,” he says. “And then I assume you need to go back to work?”

You almost say yes. You almost take the out he’s given you, but you look at him instead, at the way his expression crinkles his eyes and the way his aureate gaze has softened. You look at Jing Yuan and something behind your ribcage writhes, battering against the bones.

“No,” you say quietly. “I think I still have more time.”

He smiles.

***

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in the park, meandering through the expanse of it and chatting the whole time. You only turn back towards the inn when it starts snowing, a light fall of fat, fluffy flakes. They catch in Jing Yuan’s lashes when he turns his face up to the sky, his white hair cascading behind him, a river of starlight.

He’s beautiful. You’d known that before, of course—the man was a staple on magazine covers for a reason—but like this, it’s a different type of beauty. You wish you had words for it. Instead, you content yourself with watching him.

He cracks open an eye and sees you looking. “You’re staring,” he says, a small, sly smile blooming on his lips. “Something on my face?”

“Snow,” you say dryly. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Ah, so you do care.”

“Maybe,” you say, and relish the fleeting look of surprise that he can’t quite hide. It’s gone as soon as it came, replaced by his usual small smile, but you think there’s a pleased edge to it. “Now hurry up, it’s cold.”

He lifts his face to the sky for a moment more, letting a few more flakes drift down onto him. You wait for him. You’re cold even with the hat and scarf, but he looks so content that you can’t bear to drag him away.

Finally, he strides to your side. The two of you head back into town, taking a route that extends the walk. You chat quietly for a majority of the time, though sometimes you lapse into a comfortable silence, simply watching the snow fall.

He insists on accompanying you all the way to the inn’s doorstep, citing the icy path. You roll your eyes but don’t argue; his smile makes something in your chest twist.

“Thanks,” you say at the doorstep.

“For?”

“Everything,” you say, a little bit helpless.

He smiles again, gentle like the spring sun, and then says: “I’d like to take you to the house tomorrow.”

“The house? Whose?”

“Mine.”

“Oh,” you say.

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

“You haven’t murdered me yet.”

“True,” he says, that same little smile unfurling on his lips. “There’s still time, though.”

“Jing Yuan!”

He laughs, low and rich, more a vibration than a sound, as close together as you are. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah,” you say. “See you then.”

“Goodnight,” he says. But he stays until you give him a tiny shove.

You go to sleep with a smile lingering sweet on your lips.

***

It’s still snowing the next morning. The flakes fall delicately, dusting over the trees like icing sugar, coating the inn like a soft blanket. You watch it as you sip your coffee. It’s slow and steady, like a snowglobe settling after a flurry.

You can tell when Jing Yuan pulls up; your phone vibrates on top of your closed laptop. You gulp down the rest of your coffee before throwing on your coat. The walk from the inn to his car is short but cold. You shiver as you slip into the warmth of the car; he reaches over and tugs your hat down a little more firmly.

“Thanks,” you say. “Definitely couldn’t have done that myself.”

“You’re welcome,” he says cheerfully. “Let’s go.”

The drive to his house is longer than you thought. It’s on the far outskirts of town, set back into a grove of pine trees, not at all the modern manor you’d thought it would be. It’s still large, but there’s a modesty to it that fits him.

He pulls into the garage and leads you inside, where you immediately hear running footsteps. Jing Yuan smiles as Yanqing rounds the corner, all but throwing himself at his uncle.

“You took forever,” he complains.

“I had to go pick up my friend here,” Jing Yuan says, patting the boy on the head. “We can get started now, though.”

Yanqing peers at you. “Are they helping?”

“Helping with what?” you ask, shrugging out of your jacket at Jing Yuan’s gesture.

“Gingerbread, duh.”

“Oh, um—”

“They’re helping,” Jing Yuan says smoothly, ushering you forward into what you quickly realize is the biggest kitchen you’ve ever seen, filled to the brim with sleek kitchenware. There’s already ingredients laid out on the kitchen counter, perfectly arranged.

“I’m afraid to touch anything in your kitchen,” you say.

He laughs, rolling up the sleeves of his dark red sweater. You watch his forearms flex, the muscle rippling beneath his skin, the tendons in his hands cording.

“Don’t be,” he says. “Now let’s get started before Yanqing eats all the chocolate chips.”

Yanqing pauses with another handful of chocolate chips almost to his mouth. He gazes at his uncle for a moment and then defiantly pops it into his mouth. Jing Yuan sighs, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The boy chatters at the two of you as you measure out the ingredients for gingerbread, though he mostly speaks to Jing Yuan. For his part, Jing Yuan listens intently, paying as much attention to Yanqing as he would to any adult. He nods seriously when Yanqing complains about something that happened at school.

“And then they took away my sword—”

“Wait,” you say, stopping in the middle of mixing. “Sword?”

Yanqing stares at you. “Yeah. My sword.”

You look at Jing Yuan, who laughs. “He’s a fencing champion,” he explains.

“I’m the best in the region,” Yanqing informs you, his chest puffed up. “But one day I’ll beat Uncle.”

You start mixing again. Jing Yuan is a former champion—that has been detailed in almost every magazine he’s ever interviewed with. With good reason, too. You’ve seen the photos of him in his fencing gear, his face mask by his side, his strong thighs outlined by the uniform. He’d been sweaty and smiling broadly, his senior Jingliu at his side, her lips pressed together sternly but her eyes gleaming.

“Ah, this old man can’t keep up with you anymore,” Jing Yuan says, ruffling Yanqing’s hair.

“Liar,” the boy grumbles.

Jing Yuan laughs again. “That looks ready,” he says to you. “Yanqing, do you want to roll it out?”

“Nope.” He’s already sorting through the candy that’s on the other counter, unwrapping various ones. “I’m picking decorations.”

“It’s up to you, then,” Jing Yuan says to you with a little smile.

“I don’t see you doing very much work,” you say. He’s leaning against the counter, looking half-asleep.

“I’m supervising.”

You point your spatula at him. “You dragged me here. Come help.”

“Of course,” he says, pushing off the countertop. He pauses to stretch, reaching high, just enough for his sweater to reveal a slice of his belly and the tiniest hint of silvery hair. You almost drop the spatula. He grabs it before you can, a smug little smirk playing across his lips.

But he doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to lightly flour the countertop and dump the gingerbread dough onto it. He flours the rolling pin as well, his big hand easily reaching around the fullest part of the thick pin. When he starts to roll it out, his hands and forearms flex with each motion, the veins protruding slightly from beneath his skin.

You decide it’s better for you to look at something else. You focus on Yanqing, who is humming happily to himself as he picks out varying decorations.

“Those would make good pine trees,” you say, pointing to the waffle cones.

He eyes you. “How?”

“Like this,” you say, flipping them over so the mouth of the cone is against the counter. “And then you pipe on icing to make it look like a tree.”

He deliberates for a moment. “We can try it,” he allows.

“Okay.”

He slips away to another counter that’s got piping bags and tips laid out all over it, along with several different colors of icing. You glance at Jing Yuan. “You really have everything, don’t you?”

He smiles, cutting out a few shapes from the rolled out dough. “Not everything,” he says. “But I do try to stay stocked for gingerbread house day.”

“Do you do it every year?”

“Yup,” Yanqing says, sliding in next to you. “Since I was little.” He concentrates on the piping bag for a moment, pressing the tip down until it’s at the bottom of the bag and then grabbing a glass and pulling the edges of the bag over the edges of the glass. It holds it nicely and he starts to pile icing in.

“I can tell,” you say, watching his careful precision. He doesn’t reply, too busy piping on the first bit of icing.

There’s a blast of heat at your back as Jing Yuan opens the oven to put the gingerbread pieces in. The pan clinks against the rack and then the heat at your back is softer, a gentle warmth instead. Jing Yuan leans over you to see what Yanqing is doing, his long white hair draping over your shoulder, a waterfall of moonlight.

“Clever,” he says.

“Pretty sure I read it in a magazine.”

He hums. “Still clever.”

“I guess.”

“Look!” Yanqing says. “It looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Very good,” Jing Yuan says, and he’s not lying. Yanqing has an eye for details, swirling the piping to achieve a needle-like texture in the deep green icing. “Now you can put ornaments on it.”

“Yeah!”

You watch him fish through the varying candies to find a handful of circular red and gold ones, which he starts pushing into place in the icing. He works diligently, setting them into patterns, but you’re distracted by the heat of Jing Yuan against your back. He shifts behind you and your fingers flex.

The timer saves you. Jing Yuan pulls away as it dings; you hear the oven open and close again as he sets the gingerbread on racks to cool.

“Make one,” Yanqing says suddenly, shoving a waffle cone into your hands. “We need more for the forest.”

“Is there going to be a forest?” Jing Yuan asks mildly. “I thought we were making a house.”

“We can do both!”

“I see.”

The three of you work on trees as the gingerbread cools. Yanqing chatters away, telling you all about his most recent bout and what he asked for for Christmas. It’s cute, really, watching him and Jing Yuan interact, his hero worship obvious even from such a short amount of time.

You’ve just put the finishing touch—a silver gummy star—on top of a tree when the doorbell rings. Jing Yuan pushes to his feet with a groan and goes to answer it.

When you look up from your tree, Yanqing is staring at you.

“Uncle doesn’t usually bring corporate people to the house,” Yanqing says. “So how come you’re here?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “You’ll have to ask him.”

Yanqing’s gaze isn’t quite as knowing as his uncle’s, but it’s gutting in its own way. “I think it’s because you’re sad,” he tells you.

“I’m not sad!”

“Okay,” he says in the way that pre-teens do. “Lonely, then.”

He grins in triumph when you can’t refute that. Then his brow furrows. “I think he’s lonely too,” he confesses. “He doesn’t want to say it, though. But he is.”

Your stomach twists.

“Yanqing—”

He glares at you. “He is!”

“I’m not saying he isn’t,” you say softly. “I just don’t think you should be talking about it with me.”

“But you understand!”

You sigh. “Yanqing,” you say. “If Jing Yuan wants me to know something, he’ll tell me himself, okay?”

“No he won’t,” he mutters.

“That’s his choice.”

His brow furrows; his lips twist, a sour lemon kiss. “Fine,” he says.

You bite at your lip but he doesn’t say anything else. “Let’s build the house?” you offer.

“We have to wait for Uncle.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Delivery, probably.”

That certainly explains the scuffing noises that have been coming from the hallway. Before you can go investigate, though, Jing Yuan reappears.

“Did I miss much?” he asks, before looking at the still dismantled house. “Oh, you didn’t start.”

“We were waiting for you,” Yanqing says.

“Oh? So considerate.”

“Let’s build already!” Yanqing says, practically bouncing in place. “Uncle, c’mon!”

Jing Yuan laughs and joins the two of you at the counter, looking down at the pieces of the gingerbread house. “Yes sir,” he says. “Where do you want to start?”

“Here!”

It takes several tries to even get two of the walls to stick together. Yanqing makes you and Jing Yuan hold them together as he pipes in royal icing to be the glue; the two of you crowd together on one side of the counter to try and keep them upright. This close, you can feel how thick Jing Yuan’s bicep is as his arm presses against yours, courtesy of his broad shoulders.

Finally, the icing sets. When you and Jing Yuan pull away, the walls stay standing, earning a cheer from Yanqing. He immediately picks up the next wall, gesturing for Jing Yuan to hold it in place. You take advantage of your moment of respite to pull up one of the kitchen stools, nestling into the plush of it.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Jing Yuan warns. “We’ll be putting you right back to work.”

“Yeah,” Yanqing says. “You’ve gotta hold the next wall while the other one sets.”

“Okay, okay,” you say, reaching for the next piece of gingerbread. You set it in place, holding it carefully, bracing the corner of it with your fingertips and the side of it with your other hand. Yanqing ices it quickly, and you wince as he manages to get a good amount of icing onto your fingertips.

“Oops,” he says, looking abashed but not sounding particularly sorry.

“It’s fine,” you say, lifting your fingers away from the join of the walls, still bracing the wall itself with your other hand. You pop your fingertips into your mouth one-by-one without thinking, the sweetness spreading across your tongue rapidly, the sheer amount of sugar enough to make your teeth ache.

Jing Yuan coughs.

When you look at him, he’s already gazing at you, his eyes darkened to topaz, a deep, rich golden brown. For a second, his lazy smile goes knife-edged, something hungry tucked up into the corner of his mouth, but it’s gone when you blink, only a faint amusement remaining.

“There’s a sink if you would find that more useful,” he says, nodding towards the farmhouse sink just behind you. “Though far be it from me to stop you.”

Your cheeks heat. You wait a moment, letting Yanqing take the brunt of the gingerbread wall before you pull away. You wash your hands as the two of them chat behind you, the water burning hot as you try to compose yourself.

The little smirk Jing Yuan sends you when you turn around doesn’t help.

You take in a deep breath before rejoining them, taking the final wall and putting it into place. The three of you continue building, chatting the whole time. Yanqing’s delight is infectious and you find yourself laughing with every mishap and quietly cheering each time a wall stays up. The roof is the most precarious part; it takes the three of you several tries to get it situated.

“Now it just has to fully dry,” Yanqing announces. “Then we can decorate.”

“And in the meantime?” you ask.

“I’m going to my room!” he says, taking off down the hallway. You blink and glance at Jing Yuan.

“He means he’s going to snoop under the Christmas tree,” he says.

“Oh.”

“He thinks he’s sneakier than he is.”

“Don’t all kids? Besides, didn’t you peek under the tree when you were a kid?”

“I would never,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Who do you think I am?”

“The type to sneak under the tree. I bet you shook boxes and everything.”

He chuckles. “I stopped after I accidentally broke one of the presents doing that.”

“You didn’t!”

“I’m afraid so.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling from you like a spill of champagne. “Oh my god.”

Jing Yuan smiles, his eyes crinkling with it. “Don’t tell me you never shook the presents.”

“Of course I did. I just never broke anything.”

He hums. “Of course not.”

“Why do you sound like you don’t believe me?”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“You’re so annoying.”

He smiles, popping a candy into his mouth. You watch the way he licks the residue of it off of his lips. “Now, now, be nice.”

You pick up a candy too. It’s watermelon, the taste bursting over your tongue, stickily artificial. “Are we spending all day on a gingerbread house?” you ask.

“There’s a Christmas market that I’d intended to go to.”

You hum. “Alright.”

“No need to sound so excited about it.”

“Excited about what?” Yanqing says, flouncing into the room. He’s pink-cheeked and looking pleased with himself. You assume the present shaking went well.

“The Christmas fair.”

The boy’s face lights up. “We’re going, right? Right?”

“Yes,” Jing Yuan says. “After we finish decorating.”

“Is the icing dry yet?”

You test the gingerbread house carefully, seeing how well the walls and roof hold up. They don’t move under your gentle prodding nor when you apply a bit more pressure.

“I think so,” you say. “Let’s decorate.”

The three of you set to work. You and Jing Yuan mostly follow Yanqing’s direction; you build a chimney out of non-pareils, the uneven sides like trendy stone work. The fir trees are sprinkled around the yard, each one more decorated than the last; the shingles to the roof are made of gingerbread too, carefully cut into a scalloped edge. The very top of the roof is lined with gumdrops, the rainbow of them like Christmas lights. Chocolate stones make the pathway to the house; the path is lined with little licorice lamps.

Altogether, it’s probably the fanciest gingerbread house you’ve seen. Granted, Jing Yuan had clearly gone all out on different types of candy—so many types that you barely use half of them—but Yanqing’s eye for detail makes it all come together.

“Wow,” you say, putting a final star-shaped sprinkle in place over one of the windows, where it joins a line of others, a draping of fake Christmas lights. “This is really good, Yanqing.”

The boy puffs up. “I’ve won my school’s decorating contest before,” he says.

“I can see why.”

He beams and then turns to Jing Yuan. “When are we going to the market?” he asks.

“After we clean up.”

A pout creases his face for a moment, his lips turning down in an admittedly endearing way. “Fine,” he sighs, looking at the messy counter. You’d tried to keep the mess to a minimum, but between icing and sugar-dusted candies, you hadn’t quite succeeded. As Jing Yuan and Yanqing start to sort the candies and put them away, you start scraping up the dried-on icing.

For a moment, you think Jing Yuan is going to protest, but when you flash him a little stare that dares him too, he subsides without saying a word. You grin triumphantly and he smiles, soft and sweet. Something in you twinges.

You push the little flutter aside, wetting a paper towel to scrub off the worst of the icing. The three of you work away, chatting lightly, until the kitchen is almost as pristine as when you got there.

“That’s good enough for now,” Jing Yuan says, taking in the kitchen with a critical eye. “We’ll get the candy in the pantry later.”

Yanqing perks up. “Christmas market?” he asks.

Jing Yuan nods, a fond little smile unfurling across his lips. “Go change your shirt.”

Yanqing looks down at his shirt, which is spattered with icing from when he got a little overenthusiastic with the piping bag. “Okay!” he says, running off.

You head to the sink to wash your hands again; they’re sticky with leftover icing. Jing Yuan meets you there with a dish towel to dry your hands. His fingertips linger over your palm as he hands it to you. You take in a soft breath, but the touch is gone as soon as it comes.

Yanqing returns and the three of you bundle up—apparently the market is an outdoor one. Jing Yuan fixes Yanqing’s hat despite the boy batting his hands away. Then he turns to you and tugs at the end of your scarf.

“Ready?”

You nod. The three of you pile into one of Jing Yuan’s cars. The ride is mostly quiet, with Yanqing and Jing Yuan chatting here and there, but you’re busy looking out the window at the rolling countryside. It’s picturesque in a way no painting could ever capture, the trees lit golden by the setting sun, the snow glittering like stars as it sits heavy on their branches. The firs bend under its weight while the bare oaks soar into the sky, as if they’re painted in long, sweet strokes.

You pull into a stuffed parking lot. You shiver as you get out of the warm car, burying your chin into the scarf as your breath puffs out in a gentle mist.

The fair is stunning, little stalls lining the closed-off street, each decorated in its own way. Each of them is festooned with lights and garlands, with little stockings hung carefully from the tables. There’s a baker with bread shaped like wreaths, the crust of them perfectly golden-brown, tucked into star-patterned cloth; a weaver with stunning blankets with complex designs; a blacksmith with all sorts of metalwork, each more beautiful than the last. And those are just the first few stalls.

“Wow,” you breathe.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Jing Yuan asks. “I hear it’s grown through the years. It seems to get bigger every year.”

“I’m surprised this place isn’t known as a Christmas destination.”

“It is,” he says. “If you know the right people to ask.”

“How did you find it?”

“A friend,” he says, and there’s something in the set of his mouth that keeps you from asking more. “Come on, let’s go take a look.”

“I want to go to the blacksmith!” Yanqing pipes up.

“Go ahead,” Jing Yuan says. “Don’t go far, please.”

“Okay!”

The two of you watch him take off into the crowd, his golden crown of hair bobbing along, dodging adults and other children alike. Jing Yuan sighs, shaking his head, but gestures you along to the first stall.

You linger over some textiles, including a beautiful tablecloth embroidered heavily with holly, each sprig carefully woven to look as real as possible. You can tell that love was stitched into it, and going by the stall owner’s gnarled fingers, she’s been doing it for a long time.

“It’s beautiful,” you tell her, stroking your finger over a holly leaf. She smiles and starts to tell you about her process; you listen intently, Jing Yuan lingering patiently at your side.

When you finally move to the next stall, someone calls Jing Yuan’s name. He smiles as they approach. They chat amiably for a few minutes before he excuses himself.

As you wander through the market, you notice that it’s a pattern. Multiple people come up to Jing Yuan, all full of smiles and good cheer, talking to him like he’s an old friend. Some of them eye you curiously, but just nod your way when you’re introduced, going back to catching up with some news they’ve heard or thanking Jing Yuan for a favor he’s done.

“You’re popular,” you tell him as you both step into another stall, this one filled with ornaments. They shine brightly under the twinkling fairy lights strung over the stall’s top.

“Am I?”

“Mhm.”

He hums, picking up a snowglobe ornament and giving it a little shake. You watch the fake snow settle at the bottom, revealing the little girl building a snowman, her figure exquisitely made. “They’ve been very welcoming since I’ve moved here,” he says. “I’ve been lucky.”

“I think it’s more than luck,” you say quietly. “I think you give as much as you get.”

He flashes you a little smile. “Maybe so.”

The two of you continue on before someone stops Jing Yuan again, this time near a stall that’s too full for the three of you to step into. You do your best to shift out of the way of the people making their way through the market, but it’s hard to do so with so little room.

You’ve just been knocked into when Jing Yuan loops an arm around your waist and tugs you into his side. It pulls you out of the line of fire for the crowds filtering by. He’s a line of heat against you and you feel it when he chuckles, the sound rumbling through you.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod, cheeks hot.

“Good,” he says, and leaves his big hand high on your hip, keeping you close. He goes back to amiably talking to the other person as if he hasn’t noticed. If you lean into him, just slightly, no one but you needs to know. You peer at him from the corner of your eye. You take him in, from the moonlight spill of his hair to his sunrise eyes, to the little smile on his lips as he chats away.

He belongs, you realize, watching him slot back into his conversation with ease. He’s a part of the town, and based on how many people have come up to him, an important one. You think of the way the locals had eyed you when you’d been asking about him. It makes sense now. The town protects him as one of their own because he is one. And he’s happy, a subtle glow to him, a type you’ve rarely seen and likely never achieved yourself.

Something in your chest squirms, fluttering against the bones of your ribcage, trying to slip through the gaps. You resist the urge to press a hand to your chest.

He pulls away from the conversation a few minutes later, the hand on your hip dropping to the small of your back as he guides you forward. He stops to talk to a few more people, his eyes crinkling with his smile each time as they come up to him. It’s mesmerizing to watch.

And you’re asking him to give it all up.

Not all of it, you remind yourself. It’s a project, not a job, but something in you winces nonetheless. Your chest tightens, like a ribbon wrapped around it is cinching in.

Jing Yuan glances at you as you step away from his warmth, his hand falling from where it’s been resting on the small of your back. His brow furrows, but it passes quickly, a guttering candle.

You keep your distance for the rest of the fair. You’re still close enough to almost touch despite the thinning crowds, but the gap feels like a gulf between you, as if you’re oceans away.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you say, but from the way Jing Yuan eyes you, he doesn’t quite believe you. He opens his mouth, but you’re saved by Yanqing, who runs up with sparkling eyes.

“Uncle!” he says. “The blacksmith says we can go to the forge and watch him!”

Jing Yuan chuckles. “Did you badger him into it?”

“No!”

“Alright, alright. We’ll set up a time with him later, okay?”

Yanqing pouts but nods. You hide your smile behind your scarf.

“Let’s go home,” Jing Yuan says. Night has fallen, the sky velvety and dotted with stars. He glances at you. “Would you like me to drop you at the inn?”

You nod. He hums. “Alright.”

The three of you pile back into the car. The inn isn’t far—you probably could have walked, but the cold night has only gotten more frigid. Jing Yuan comes up to the inn’s doorstep with you, catching you by the wrist when you’re halfway up the stairs. You turn around and he looks up at you, his golden eyes shining under the moonlight.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and it takes a moment to gather yourself, too focused on the way his thumb is rubbing small circles on the delicate skin of your inner wrist. You realize you’re leaning towards him, a flower to the sun. He smiles at you, eyes crinkling, and you see it again, that soft glow to him.

Something clicks into place.

“Nothing will make you come on board the project, will it?” you ask, sounding too calm even to your own ears. You shake off his hand. “There’s never even been the slightest chance.”

Jing Yuan lets out a low, slow breath. “No,” he says. “There hasn’t been.”

“Right,” you say. “Okay. Thank you for everything.”

“What?”

“My job is done,” you say. “If I can’t convince you, there’s no point in me being here.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” you say. Your chest hurts. Something sinks its teeth into your ribs, chipping away at the bone. “I came here to get you on board.”

“That’s not what the last day or two has been,” he says softly. “Right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He reaches for you, brushing his gloved fingers against your cheek. “Yes, you do.”

You pull away. “I’ve been here to get you on board, Jing Yuan. To do my job. That’s all.”

“You—”

“I’ll catch a flight tomorrow,” you say. “It shouldn’t be hard, since it’s Christmas Eve.”

He lets out a low, slow breath. He gazes up at you, his golden eyes flickering with something you don’t dare name.

“Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“It’s time for me to go,” you say. “It’s been time for me to go since I got here, apparently.”

He says your name softly. It rolls over you like morning mist, blocks out the world. You take in a shuddering breath.

“Goodbye, Jing Yuan.”

He sighs. “If you change your mind, I’m having a Christmas party tomorrow. You’ll always be welcome.”

You nod sharply, turning on your heel to go inside. Jing Yuan says your name again. You glance over your shoulder. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. And then—

“Travel safe,” he says.

“Thanks,” you say, and then you’re inside the inn, leaving Jing Yuan standing out in the cold behind you. You don’t wait to see if he lingers, ignoring Lee’s cheerful greeting to make your way back up to your room.

You book the first flight you find. It’s late in the day, but that’s fine—you can catch up with your emails and calls. You’ve barely checked your phone today. You can’t quite bring yourself to do it now.

After your flight is booked, you close your laptop and fold your arms, resting your head on them. The fangs sunk into your rib bones dig deeper, hitting marrow.

“Fuck,” you say, sitting up and scrubbing your hands over your face. “Fuck.”

You stare out the window, into the deep bruise of the night. The woods rise beyond the hill, the trees skeletal as they reach for the sky, barely visible in the dark. Stars glitter coldly high above; the moon shines like a lonely mirror. It all feels distant, like a world you’re not part of.

You let out a deep, slow breath. It does nothing to loosen the string wound tight around your chest; if anything, it tightens.

You get ready for bed slowly, that fanged thing still biting deep, leaving teeth marks that ache deeply.

When you fall asleep, the last thing you see is Jing Yuan’s eyes.

***

The next day dawns too early. You once again wake with the sunlight, having forgotten to close the curtains as you drifted around the room last night. The watery light pools on the floor, sweetly golden. The wooden floor is warm under your feet as you cross through the puddles of sunlight.

You get ready for the day quickly. You pack up carefully, rolling your clothes up so they fit better before you tuck your toiletries in. You keep your laptop out to answer emails as they come in. The sun stretches along the floor as you work, barely coming up for air.

You don’t dare give yourself time to think.

You check out in the early afternoon. The receptionist is the one who checked you in. She’s quick and efficient, and you find yourself on the doorstep of the inn waiting for a cab in just a few minutes.

The taxi driver is quiet; you find yourself wishing for the same talkative driver as before. At least it would fill the air, give you something to concentrate on beside the noise in your head.

It’s all mixed together, a slush puddle that you keep stamping through, expecting to not get splashed this time. Jing Yuan, the project, your work, the promotion—it runs through your head non-stop, circling over and over again. Your work, all for nothing. Your possible promotion, just beyond the tips of your fingers. Jing Yuan with his golden eyes and his lips with a smile tucked up secret in the corner of his mouth. Jing Yuan with his laughter and his dedication to the town.

You check your email but it doesn’t help.

You’ve already told Qingzu that you’ve failed. She had taken it in stride; she made sure you knew that no one was going to blame you. The project is going to go forward with or without Jing Yuan. You knew that, but the failure stings anyway. Fu Xuan had asked for you specifically; she must have believed you could do it.

You should have been able to.

Except—you think of the quiet glow that Jing Yuan had yesterday. The way he’d slipped seamlessly into the town’s community, how they treat him as one of their own. He’s happy in a rare way, deeply content with his lot. How you’d felt at his side in the last few days, even as he dragged you around. What it felt like to not be so focused on work all the time; how it felt to live life again.

Something in your chest warms. It rises through you like sparkling champagne bubbles, fizzing across your nerves.

You think of the way Jing Yuan’s eyes crinkle when he smiles.

“Sir,” you call out to the taxi driver. “Can you please turn around?”

***

The party is in full swing by the time you arrive. There are people coming and going; laughter drifts out the door every time it opens. The path is brightly lit, with Christmas lights lining the side and elegant wreaths hanging from posts, each big red bow perfectly tied. They’re glittering with tinsel, woven expertly in through the pine boughs.

You slip inside quietly. It’s completely different from just yesterday: there are tables set up inside, piled high with an entire array of hors d'oeuvres, from tiny little tarts to a bacchanalian cheeseboard, overflowing with plump, glistening figs, wine-red grapes, and fine cheeses. The decorations have multiplied. There are fairy lights everywhere, twinkling merrily. They’re tucked into vast, lush garlands that drape along the tables; there are candles flickering in their ornate holders, little wisps of smoke dancing from the flames.

It's easy to find Jing Yuan; he’s holding court by the Christmas tree, perfectly visible from the doorway. He’s chatting away with the small group that’s gathered around him, but there’s something different about him. Something you can’t quite name.

He looks wilted, almost, like the flowers in the last days of summer, still thriving but sensing their end. He smiles at someone and there’s nothing tucked up secret in the corner of his lips. Your chest aches, something howling between the gaps of your ribs.

He glances up and your eyes meet. He goes still, and then there’s a brilliant smile spreading across his lips, the sun come down to earth. He excuses himself from his group and makes his way over to you.

“Hi,” you say as he draws near, a little bit breathless.

“Hi,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words rushing from you like water. “The last few days haven’t been nothing. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s alright,” he says. “I’m sorry that I led you astray.”

“Why did you do it?”

He sighs. “I remember what it was like to work like that. To give up everything for the job. No one should live like that. And you seemed so lonely.”

You wince.

“Sorry,” he says. “But it’s what I saw.”

You shake your head. “It’s not like you were wrong. And you made me less lonely, Jing Yuan.”

He reaches out and sweeps his thumb over the apple of your cheek. You sway into the touch, turning until your cheek is cradled in his palm. “I’m glad,” he says softly. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

Someone whistles. You balk, starting to step back; Jing Yuan catches you before you can go far, pulling you in close.

“You’re under the mistletoe,” someone calls.

You look up, and sure enough, there’s mistletoe hanging innocently above you, the tiny flowers white as snow. It’s tied off with a perfect red ribbon.

“We don’t have to—”

“It’s tradition,” you say, and then you’re surging up to kiss him. He meets you halfway and as his lips brush yours, warmth blooms inside your chest, embers stoked to flame. He cups the back of your head to pull you closer. You make a little noise; he swallows it down.

There’s a certain greed to the kiss; a longing, too. He steals the breath from you; takes in your air and makes it his own. You kiss him harder, as if he might disappear.

When you break apart, he leans down to press his forehead against yours. You close your eyes. You can hear people murmuring, but they seem far away. Only Jing Yuan feels real. You open your eyes and glance up at him. He smiles at you, his golden eyes crinkling at the edges. Your heart flutters behind your ribs, beating against the cage of them like a bird’s wings.

“Merry Christmas,” you breathe.

“Merry Christmas,” he says softly.

He kisses you again and this time, it feels like coming home.

#hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail x reader #bee writes hsr

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allidoishuynh · 2 months

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First post or maybe second. I think there's a picture of stuffed animals from like a decade ago. But let's see how this goes.

Jason is having his death day, Danny wants to help. (Xey and xeir are used as pronouns for an alien species for whom English can't really cut it)

The day sucked. It fucking sucked every single year. Every inch of his body ached and screamed in pain with each step, turn, and movement. He could hear the incessant, unending beeping wherever he went. Of course… it wasn't unending. It had very abruptly and very importantly ended, once upon a time. Which led him to the next reason this day, every single year, was so unbearably shitty: the sweats. It felt like he was boiling alive on the surface of the sun and no matter what he did, no matter how he distracted himself, he always remembered why. Why he had to feel this way every year and how each torment served as a memento of that day.

Jason continued walking down the street in the vain hope to clear his head when he heard a voice.

"Yeeeeesh!" A boy said, "I think I can taste that."

As Jason turned, he noticed the boy, thin, no older than 16, with stark white hair, was staring directly at him. Staring at him and slowly walking closer.

"Hey there man," he started, "believe me when I say: I know today sucks. I don't know how badly or what exactly you're dealing with, but I know it's bad."

The teen was now standing right in front of him and yet Jason felt glued to the spot, like something was keeping him there and that the very idea of brushing off this boy and continuing on his horrid stroll would be an act of blasphemy. The boy reached out a hand and placed it gently on Jason's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. And to his utter shock, Jason didn't shrug it off. In fact, he liked it? For the briefest of moments the aches subsided, the heat receded long enough to feel the cool spring breeze, and the beeping faded into nothing. He could swear even the pits were calm. No wait, they weren't just calm; they were cooing? Pushing him to lean into the young man's touch.

"Mind if I join you?" The boy asked.

"Please…" Jason spoke, somewhere between a whisper and a prayer.

And they started back along the walkway. Jason couldn't help but feel like the world had stopped as they made their way through Crime Alley.

"You know," the stranger began, "there's nothing wrong with asking, 'GOD, why the fuck is this happening to me?'"

"Sure, you know WHY it's happening. But it seems pretty unfair, no? I mean, we go through this absolutely awful thing once, and then we have to deal with the shadows of it once every three-sixty-five for the rest of eternity? That's just brutal."

Jason knew he had trusted every word spoken to him so far, though he couldn't be sure why. But the small, rational voice in his head now confirmed exactly what the subject of their conversation was.

"Well the truth is," he continued "it's not some command by on high. No one made these rules. It's just how the universe operates. I've actually met quite a few others like us, but they didn't live on a rock rotating around a yellow star. One of them lived their whole life on a space station flying through eternity. And yet even they feel this once every so often."

"See, the thing is, humans operate on an annual time scale. We don't feel greatly connected to something that happened exactly 7 or 28 or 30 days ago. But three hundred and sixty five days… and six-ish hours puts us in basically the exact same spot in the universe. You can feel it, the same air blowing in your face, the same setting sun, even the same clothes you were wear-"

Jason collapsed. He felt the air ripped out of his lungs as he coughed and choked and desperately tried to restart his breathing. Everything hurt, everything was hot, and the GODDAMN BEEPING-

And then it was gone. The only thing he felt was a gentle hand rubbing circles into his back. He turned to look up at the… Spirit? God? "Boy" felt wrong now.

"Ope," he said with a look of concern, "so the clothes were a really important part. Starting to get a picture of what's going on here."

Jason gratefully received a second hand positioned on his chest as he was lifted back into a standing position. Then he turned back to his companion and urged him to continue with his eyes.

"Well," he started again, "basically, we live on a yearly timescale. We don't count months or decades nearly the same way. But that's just us, if we were turtles and the only big happening we saw was that every 23 years a squall split the bay we lived in, you and I would have much longer between our episodes. One of the ones I talked to said xey only experienced it once every 91 years when a certain comet makes its pass through the night sky on xeir planet."

"Anyway," he continued, "what I'm trying to say is that the universe is a fucked up place. But it has rules. Action-reaction and all that. So if you want, I can try and help you get through this as someone more familiar with those rules than you are."

"Please," Jason pleaded, "anything that'll help. I just, I just want it to be easier, I don't need it to be gone; I just want it to be bearable."

"Cool," he responded "glad we're operating on more reasonable expectations. But first things first, I'm gonna need to take a closer look at your core and it's not going to be a particularly comfortable experience. Is that okay?"

Jason nodded, though he wasn't quite sure what this being had meant by "core." He just couldn't help but trust it.

That trust felt slightly misplaced when a hand passed directly into his chest and the arm it was attached to shifted to several angles as if searching for something.

"Aha!" Came the exclamation as the hand retracted, now carrying a small red… was that a page? Like from a book?

"Well this looks cool," the being said, "jeez a bad boy with the heart of a poet. Jazz would have a field day. But let me see here… oh! A protection obsession, just like me. Put 'er there bud."

Jason felt a deep reverberation in his chest as he shook hands with the entity. But everything felt wrong, like his very being had been separated from him so quickly and quietly that he hadn't even noticed. It felt as though he might've gone on blissfully unaware if he hadn't seen the page come out of his chest. And then the world returned. The sounds of the city came to life and when Jason looked down, the page was gone and the hand that held it was pressed gently and flatly back against his chest. The spirit reached down to grab Jason's hand before turning to continue down the street.

After a few minutes, they came to a stop at a park.

"Why are we here?" Asked Jason.

"Dunno," came the reply, "but look closely and I'm sure you'll find the reason."

Jason scanned the park. The homeless resting in the bushes, the trees full of green leaves, several families playing, an old man feeding pigeons, and another walking his dog. His eyes suddenly snapped back to the families. One family. The mother. A young woman with a long, thin scar along her cheek.

He remembered those eyes, that hair. The scar was a fresh gushing wound when he had last seen it, but he remembered that too.

"Her," Jason said, knowing the one beside him understood, "I saved her. Or helped. Back when I was- back before I was- Fuck. Was that a decade ago? Jesus she has a ki-oh man kids. Wait, is she my age? Shit, she seemed so little then."

"Someone you protected," came the voice, "someone for whom you risked your life. Someone who looks at those kids and thanks the universe for putting you on her path every single day."

Jason felt a lump forming in his throat.

"See," the boy started, "I think that's what people forget. Not just other people but us too. It's not about carrying someone through the pouring rain to a hospital. It's definitely not about the praise or detractors or even seeing someone pull through in the end. It's about this. It's about-"

"Seeing them get the chance to flourish," Jason finishes, "watching the world step on them over and over and being there to help them back on their feet the one time it would've been too much on their own. And then knowing they thrived in the end."

"It's hard," the spirit said, "to remember where we really sit in the grand scheme. It can feel like we haven't done anything or that no matter what we do, we'll never be more than one single moment. The reason today sucks every year is important. But it doesn't define who you are or what you'll do. Go visit Mr. Friedrichson at 2:03 today. One of his old tenants is gonna visit and I think you'll enjoy the reminder of why your home is a place worth fighting for, even in spite of the name. Talk to Jenny and Liu. They'll be on 5th Street tonight and they'll talk your ear off about all the good you've done and what it really means to bleed Crime Alley. And can I make one actual request, even if you don't do the other stuff?"

"Of course," Jason replied, "anything."

"Enjoy yourself," the voice spoke, fading as if it was getting farther away. "He's gonna come by as per usual, bearing gifts. But I'm begging you, forgive yourself, even if just for today, and try to enjoy some time with your brother."

"Hey Jason!" Came a call from his other side, "I've been looking all over for you. I got your favorite."

Dick lifted a large brown bag, undoubtedly from the greatest Chinese restaurant in the world… if you asked Jason that is. Jason couldn't help but let a soft smile creep across his face, before quickly hiding behind a groan and a hand pressed into his forehead.

"I can't get one day's peace from you can I?" Jason said as he closed the distance and took the bag.

"Uhh," Dick said, stunned by the more playful remark. "I… I thought you might want some company and I had a free-"

"Thank you Dick," Jason cut in, "I know you take this day off every year and I know you spend it mostly with me screaming and throwing things at you."

"It's not-" he began.

"But this year," Jason continued, "let's do something better."

He lifted the bag to his face and deeply inhaled the fragrant smell of nostalgia and stir fried vegetables.

"You even remembered my special instructions," Jason said, "come on. I know a few places we can go to enjoy this."

Oh boy that was long. Uhh, I hope Tumblr does the whole button to expand this automatically. I kinda only got halfway through what I was gonna say and then burnt out so we skipped Mr. Friedrichson's moment. Anyway have a good one y'all. Oh right, Danny says "bud" and "ope" because he's Midwestern just like me. I don't take criticism (on the Midwestern thing).

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #batman #jason todd #red hood #danny phantom #danny fenton #dick grayson #jazz fenton #mentioned #ghost core #obsession

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multifanhoe99 · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 10- Public Sex

I am basing this one off a true story please don't do this it's so risky and unsanitary.

Paring: San x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sex in a port-a-potty, FWB, degradation (calls reader a slut), he likes the reader but doesn't know how to tell her so he's kinda mean cause she likes his bad boy act.

=Let me know if I missed any.=

18+ MDNI

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wondered how it was exactly that you found yourself in this position. Never in a million years did you think that resident bad boy Choi San would even glance in your direction much less have you bent over for him on the regular. The truth is though that San is about as close to a real bad boy as a puppy is. His cool demeanor and sharp gaze always seemed to convince people that he wasn't up to any good but to those who knew him best he was a big softie. He lived to cuddle and was a real romantic and he truthfully had the biggest crush on you.

You were so sweet and beautiful and always seemed to make whomever you were talking to smile. He's been playing into the bad boy act for so long now though that he has no idea how to ask you out properly or even get your to see the real him. His best friend Wooyoung tells him that he just needs to do it but is he's being honest he's scared. That's what got him in this mess in the first place. He was finally going to ask you out. He was preparing himself all week but when the time finally came he chickened out. Then, he saw you at a party. He decided he was going to tell you then, after plenty of liquid courage. Maybe, he had a little too much because then next thing he knew was that he came up to dance behind you and instead of asking you or properly like he planned he ended up saying, "What is a pretty little thing like yourself doing all alone?"

"Um, well I w-was just looking for my roommate. She's here somewhere," you stuttered feeling hot with San being this close to you. You had no idea why he was choosing to talk to you but you couldn't deny that it made you feel good to have this resident bad boy all over you for the moment.

"Forget her, let me be your roommate tonight yeah? I'll make you feel so good you'll be begging me like a desperate slut by the end," yeah he definitely had to much. Be want supposed to say any of that but his mouth was moving faster than his brain. That is how you both ended up in your friends with benefits relationship. He would come over and fuck your brains out, saying the nastiest things to you and you loved it. You assumed that was all it was but to him, he used it as a twisted chance to get to know your and spend time with you. Unbeknownst to you that is why he so often chose to stay at your place even though he said it was just because he was to tired to go back to his dorm.

One day he invited you to go to a concert with him. He said he got the tickets for free from a buddy but he had actually bought them and planned on taking you because you're favorite band was headlining. You played it off very cool but on the inside you were screaming you were going to see your favorite band and with none other than Choi San. You couldn't get your hopes up to much though this was definitely not a date even though it did kind of feel like one.

Soon it was the day of the concert and right on time at 4:30 San was at your dorm ready to pick you up. You got there early even though you had seats but you didn't want to miss any of the openers either. Everything was going well and you were having a great time. You and San jammed out to the music and you were dancing and having fun.

"Hey," you said after a while, "I'll be right back I am going to get another drink."

"Wait," he replied also getting up, "I will go with you there are so many people I don't want you getting hurt." You thought it was strange that he would care but you couldn't think on it too much or you would stay deluding yourself into thinking he actually liked you. In his mind it was now or never. He had to confess to you before things for any further and his chances are ruined. He wasn't exactly thinking straight he just needed to get you somewhere he felt he could talk to you without so much distraction. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into the closest room he could find and that just so happened to be the wheelchair accessible port-a-potty. It was not his best option but it'd do for now. What he didn't expect was to feel you so close and he couldn't help himself. He kissed you deeply and passionately. It had you morning into his mouth.

He pulled away saying, "I am sorry I just couldn't wait anymore."

"Neither can I," you replied reaching to palm at his cock above his pants.

"God, you are just a desperate slut for my cock huh? Can't get enough that you're willing to let me fuck you right here and now," he said while turning you around so he could grind his bulge against your ass. None of this was part of the plan but you seemed to be enjoying yourself there for her just went with it loving the feeling of your body against his. Luckily for you both you decided to wear a sundress with no panties. You knew how much that drive him insane.

He lifted your dress bunching it together at your lower back. There you were bent over holding on to a guard rail in a port-a-potty with no panties and dripping wet just for San. That was it for him, the congestion could wait he needed to be balls deep in your beautiful pussy right now. He wasted no time using his pants and pulling both them and his underwear down to his mid thigh letting his cock spring free. He guided his tip to your entrance tubing his tip up and down your wet folds. Them, he started to push in.

"Fuuuuck you're always so right for me. I love fucking your pretty little pussy. That's it take it like my good little slut," he said. Officially lost in the high of pleasure he just said whatever he thought. He began to move faster slamming his hips into yours. One of his hands on the same guardrail you were holding on to the other covering your mouth muffling your sweet sons so you don't get caught. You were surprised you didn't get cause already though with the way the whole thing seemed to be shaking. Eventually he moved his other hand from the rail to snake around your body and start rubbing your clit. Your mouth was still covered but you still screamed that you were gonna cum and hopefully he'd know your were close. Which he did, he could feel it.

"You gonna cum for me little slut huh? You gonna cum all over my cock? That's it, cum for me go ahead," he encouraged. The feeling of his cock and his hand and then the words he spoke had you coming undone. He was not far behind and when he was just about to cum he pulled out of your letting it all drip onto the floor. When all was said and done and you were both satisfied and clean, at least as clean as you could get, he finally spoke the words he's been waiting ages to say.

"Y/N, I really like you and I have for a while and I'm not good with my words really but I want to ask you out on a real date. Honestly I've been wanting to do that for a long time. I want to make you mine for real."

You were too stunned to speak you thought it was a joke but he seemed so sincere. You decided to agree under some conditions.

"Okay," you began, " you can take me out on a real date. I really like your top but you should know that if I get any sense that you're playing me at all I'm done and this whole thing will be over. I won't let myself get heartbroken like that."

"You don't have to worry about that," he said, "I don't even plan on letting you go now." You two say back in your seats and enjoyed the rest of the concert. It was amazing and you couldn't wait to see where this will go.

A/N: Yes, this situation was a thing. No, I will not be doing that ever again. Highschool was a wild time and that is all I will say. Anyway once again don't have sex in a port-a-potty it is not great but it did give me the inspiration for this so at least it was good for one thing. Asks are still open and I am ready to get writing.

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #x reader #ateez smut #k pop smut #san smut #ateez san #san x reader #ateez #choi san

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radiocrypt-id · 1 year

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Gerrard is painful in a way I didn't really understand at first. He's like, 30. He's grown. A handsome prince, married to a wonderful woman that's trying to do her job and prevent the deaths of her people. But all he thinks about is the ball. he offers to look through a sword form book as a way of "helping", or to appear to be helping anyway. He's a coward. He hides with the children and escapes through a secret tunnel and runs away. He's desperate to convince anyone, including himself, that he's a handsome prince who is in love with his wife and their marriage is going great.

And I didn't get it, at first. I thought he was funny and probably more like the average person in a terrible time, not a hero. He's a grumpy adult that feels like the world he was promised got taken away from him when he did nothing to hold onto that world in the first place.

And then they played through his story. He was 9 when he was turned into a frog. 9. A baby, unable to understand what it was he'd done wrong. He was a spoiled little prince with absent parents that was 9 and didn't want to interact with a random strange old woman at his door asking for stuff. An adult could have been gotten. His parents could have been summoned by a servant and brought to the door or a higher servant could have handled the talk but no, no they let a 9 year old boy open that massive door to a random stranger asking to come inside out of the rain. Any child would have said no. Any child. Because an old woman he'd never met was asking to go inside his home. I would have said no, any of the other characters at the table would have said no. She's a scary old lady on his doorstep! And yeah maybe he said it in a dickish way. Maybe he called her a peasant or said 'how dare you' to her face, but he was 9 years old, what 9 year old isn't a weird little dick? Especially when they don't know what's going on? Stranger danger is literally a thing taught to children as soon as they can walk! Any one would have said no. But Gerrard said no, and was turned into a frog for it.

But you know what's worse then being turned into a frog and dropped in a pond a bit away from your home? Never being looked for. Not once. He was out there, he could see hunters and soldiers. A tiny Gerrard must have waited months, just staring out into the woods, straining his ears, listening for his mother or father calling his name. And then just listening for his name at all. And then just listening for any sign of humans at all. No one was looking for him. For all the servants charged with taking care of a young prince, not one saw what happened to him and not one went looking. It's hard to be small and scared and alone, waiting for someone to come get you but no one ever comes to get you. It's hard to learn that the people that are supposed to love you just... don't.

And later on, after becoming a handsome man and marrying Elody, Gerrard spent more years of his life as a frog in a pond than a prince. Day dreaming about balls and gossip and feasts and all the fun things about being a prince because it's all he can remember about his time as a prince. He didn't have the classes he should have had. He missed out on etiquette, and sword play, and politics, and war. He missed those lessons, because he was just a little frog in a pond during the years he would have learned all that. But he's expected to know. Elody loves him, but she expects him to know how to be a prince. She expects him to understand war and strife and taxes and all those important things and doesn't once stop to ask if he actually knows these things. Of course he didn't want to talk about the war effort. Of course he asked about the ball and offered to read a book about sword play. It's not that he could give more and chose not to, he genuinely didn't know how to do more than that. He was taking what initiative he could. He could teach himself how to fight, sure! but he can't teach himself how to be a general. All he wants is to be safe, and for the person he loves to be safe. And he assumes that anyone would run away from a losing battle because he would. He grew up a frog that had to survive by running away and letting someone else die so he could live. But even once he ran, he went looking for Elody. Because although Elody is falling out of love with Gerrard, he loves her fiercely. And as he goes on his adventure and fights and dies and fights more, he gets it. He gets what Elody wanted from him and what she needed him to be and that he failed to do that.

So he's learning better now. He learning to accept personal sacrifice, like with the glass shard. He's learning to be diplomatic, like with the pig. He's learning to be dangerous and capable, like in the fight against muffet. He's learning what it means to rely on people and be honest with them about his failings so they can cover his ass, like with the party. It's hard to learn these things. It's hard to try and sus out who is helpful and who isn't. It's hard to not hand off his problems again for someone else to fix. Because even though he's 30 now, he spent an unknown number of years as a frog, and he's desperately trying to catch up without letting anyone know he's behind because they might not like him anymore if they know how far behind them he is. He's doing his very best and, terrifyingly, the person that's supposed to love him is loving him less because his best isn't good enough for her. Once again, he's missing and no one is looking for him.

But that's okay, because this time, Gerrard can do the looking.

#pinocchio neverafter #d20 neverafter #neverafter #neverafter gerard #ylfa snorgelsson #d20 spoilers #d20 rosamund #dimension 20

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vertigoed · 1 year

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tinder || satoru gojo

PART 2 out

gojo: do you want to have sex?

you stare at your phone with a mixture of disappointment and disgust. this satoru gojo that you matched with was truly a wasted potential. he was your ideal type- tall, massive shoulders and muscly forearms with a pretty face and beautiful blue eyes. every photo on his profile looked like an editorial just by his aura that oozed from the screen.

seriously? not even a hello, how are you? you think to yourself and a sigh escaped your lips, wondering if you should delete him.

normally you would instantly unmatch the guys who asked such vulgar questions upfront. usually, you don't even bother replying, but this time, you found yourself replying to this 30 year old man.

a part of you enjoyed the shred of attention given by this stanger. even though you knew he probably sent the same message to every women he's matched with and fucks anything with a hole.

the man was atrociously stunning, the type to have you squealing on the bed when you realised he swiped back on you. the type to have, without a doubt, thousands of matches spamming his inbox with beautiful women all over the globe asking to meet up with him.

your heart beats fast as you press send.

you: no

you knew you were just playing hard to get, he was probably aware of that too. you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't answer. but within a couple minutes, you get a notification.

gojo: well that's unfortunate

gojo: i really wanted to be with you

your heart pounds faster. you were ashamed at the fact that you were blushing over a stranger asking you for sex. he didn't even have the common courtesy to ask what your interests are, let alone ask how your night is going. you were better than this, right?

you: it's unfortunate that you're such a pervert.

he begins typing back straight away.

gojo: do you want me to take you out on a date before or something?

your eyes roll at how cocky he sounded. this man obviously knew he was attractive and could get away with saying anything he wanted. you chew on your lip as you type your response.

you: obviously why would i sleep with someone i don't know?

gojo: you'll like me though

you decide you'll wait a bit before you reply, not wanting to give him too much validation. you go on his profile, raising an eyebrow at the vague description he had.

Satoru Gojo, 30

occupation: sensei

i like quick texters

perfect, he can wait two hours then, you think to yourself and placed your phone down. it was hard for you to ignore the buzz of your phone, instead you try to focus on the anime playing on the tv screen.

you found yourself checking the time every ten minutes or so, until you couldn't resist seeing what he said.

gojo: let me take you out then and we'll see if you let me fuck you

this time round, something else inside of you fluttered. you hold back the smile creeping on your face, fingers hovering over your phone as you thought of what to say.

you: i dont like to meet strangers without getting to know them first

you had a slight feeling he was going to give up by this point as he just seemed desperate for a quick fuck. even though the man was irresistibly hot, he could be a deranged serial killer so you had to play it safe.

gojo: wanna facetime then?

your eyes widen, your hands instantly reaching to your bed hair as you read his message. there was no way in hell you were going to facetime him. you gulp and toss your phone to the bed again, not knowing what you were going to say.

an hour passed and your phone buzzed again.

gojo: stop playing hard to get, it doesn't work on me

you smirked and typed your answer: it's working isn't it?

gojo: facetime me or you're a bitch

you: i guess i'm a bitch then

gojo: can i call you other names when i fuck you?

your mouth drops at his obnoxious message. you feel yourself tingle at the thought and that truly made you hate every fibre of your being.

normally, guys like satoru disgusted you. turned you off, made you want to gag. as your eyes were glued to the television, you were deep in thought, questioning your entire morals and self esteem. were you really going to let a random man objectify you, just because he was hot?

you look at his profile photo again and you don't even realise that foolish smile you had. i guess a face like that gets a free pass, you think to yourself.

you: we shall see

PART 2 out

masterlist

#gojo satoru fic #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru fluff

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angstysebfan · 5 months

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My Roommates Boyfriend - Chapter 3

Pairings: Bucky x female reader AU: Modern

Chapter Summary: After staying at a creeping motel, the reader finally finds out why Bucky hates her. Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Panic Attack, Creepy older motel worker (unrealistic driving time, but whatever)

Series Masterlist

You pull up to an old looking motel. It kind of reminds you of the Bates Motel in the movie Psycho. Bucky could feel your uneasiness and laughed, “We could sleep in the car if you are uncomfortable.”

You look at him and see a smirk on his lips. He was making fun of you, which pissed you off.

“Nope, I just hope the psycho killer chooses you as their victim tonight. I’ll give Nat your regards,” You say before getting out of the car.

Bucky laughs out loud, a sound that was surprisingly pleasant to you. “You've watched too many horror movies,” he says as he walks into the office, with you following him.

You both walk up to the counter and ask for two separate rooms. “Sorry, but we only have one room available. It has a king size bed though,” the older gentleman said looking you up and down.

You look at Bucky and see the tick in his jaw. He looks at you and rolls his eyes. “How far is the nearest motel or hotel from here?” He asked, the annoyance evident in his voice.

“Not for another 20 miles or so,” the older man said, ignoring Bucky’s attitude. “I don’t know why a good looking man like you wouldn’t want to share a room with a pretty gal like her,” he said, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows at you and making you uncomfortable.

You can’t help the blush that runs through your cheeks. Bucky scoffs, “Beauty isn’t everything. We'll take the damn room,” he says giving his credit card over.

Once you're both settled in the room you sit on the bed, back leaning against the headrest. Bucky's taking a shower, which gave you time to think about everything that happened in the car today. Bucky kept saying he heard about what you said. What could I've possibly said? You think back to the entire year of Bucky being in your life, and you can’t for the life of you think about saying anything bad about him. Except that he's an asshole, but he deserves it.

Bucky comes out of the bathroom wearing a pair of black sweatpants and no shirt. You can’t help but admire his physique as he towels his long brown hair. His body was a sight to behold. Muscles upon muscles, which made butterflies appear in your stomach. You always thought he was attractive, even when you first saw him. You desperately wanted to talk to him, but Nat showed interest and you backed down immediately. Then you met him and saw his true personality, which surprised you. Though he seemed to treat Nat well.

Bucky looks up and sees you staring at him. “Take a fucking picture it'll last longer,” he snaps, causing you to blush at being caught.

You quickly grab your stuff and quickly run into the bathroom. After a quick shower, you change into a tank top and shorts. You walk out into the room and notice Bucky was putting on shoes and a t-shirt.

“I’m gonna to sleep in the car,” he said.

You can’t help but get offended that he would rather sleep in the small car than share a room with you. You knew you had to find out his deal, but would wait until morning.

“I-I mean I can sleep on the floor if you want. You don’t have to sleep in the car,” you say, trying to not sound whiney.

Bucky looks up at you and shrugs. “It’s fine. Don't worry, us biker gang, poor city boys are used to roughing it. Be at the car by 5:30 am, or I'm leaving your ass,” he says as he walks out of the motel.

You can’t help but stare at the door after he leaves. You quickly pick up the phone and call Nat.

“Hey Y/N! Where are you guys?” Nat says excitedly.

“Hey Nat, we're in Ohio, but close to the border of Indiana I think. Look Nat, what the fuck is going on? Bucky fucking hates me and is making me completely miserable. I've almost cried like three times already!” you say, frustrated.

“I’m sorry hun. I hoped maybe you would talk it out and get along. Just like you told me you wanted that night. But, like I said I'll explain everything when you get here. Just try your best to get along, please? It’s only temporary,” Nat pleads.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Before you can agree to her she says, “I gotta go, Bucky's calling me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” and the phone disconnects.

–

You exit the motel, dropping off the key, and enter the car at 5:15am. Bucky's sitting there waiting for you. He doesn’t say anything after you buckle your seatbelt, just starts the car and heads off. You continue to think about how to broach the subject of his hatred for you. Maybe after you eat something.

“Did you want to get food, or just continue the trip?” you ask softly, hoping to keep his mood calm.

You hear him sigh, “Whatever,” he says dryly.

You don't know how to go on from here, so you just say, “Let’s just drive for awhile, we can stop further along.”

Over the next few hours, you listened to your playlist, while driving through Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. You wanted to stop in Chicago, but Bucky just wanted to keep going. He was acting very weird today. Didn’t snap at you, in fact he barely spoke to you. How were you going to ask him anything if you couldn’t gauge his mood.

You were half way through Wisconsin when you finally stopped for fuel and food. You grabbed sandwiches and chips for you both, as well as some waters. It wasn’t long before you were on your way again. It was 3:30 in the afternoon and Bucky has barely said 3 words to you all day. You decided enough was enough. You paused your playlist and turned toward him.

“Hey uh...Bucky, can I ask you a question?” you ask hesitantly.

He doesn’t even glance at you. “You just did.” he said monotoned.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, what?!” he snaps, obviously not in the mood.

You take a deep breath, “You mentioned yesterday that ‘you knew what I said’, and I was just wondering what you were talking about.” you say nervously.

He scoffs, “I’m not talking about this, especially with you,” he says.

You look at him annoyed, “I was accused of saying something bad about you, and I deserve to know what it is, so I can defend myself!” you say.

Bucky sighs, “I really don’t give a shit what you have to say to defend yourself. You're nothing but a spoiled prissy princess who judges everyone, even before you meet them. I don’t know how Nat was even friends with you. You're not in the same category in anything; beauty, personality, anything! I just honestly don’t get it,” he says, like he is talking about the weather.

You feel like he just punched you in the stomach, and find it very difficult to breath. You've never had anyone say anything so horrible to you in your entire life. You feel a panic attack coming and you don’t know what to do.

“B-Bucky, you need to pull over,” you say breathlessly.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “I’m not gonna to pull over so you can throw a fucking hissy fit,” he says.

“Bucky pull the fuck over!!” You scream.

He looks at you and sees that you're very pale and breathing heavy. He quickly pulls over to the side of the road.

You jump out and run a few paces before falling to your knees, sobbing. You've never been so insulted in your whole entire life, and the worst part is, you don’t know why. You try to control your breathing, but it’s getting harder to do so. You feel hands on your shoulders and hear a voice but it sounds far away.

“Y/N…. Y/N look at me.” Bucky says softly. You keep your eyes on the ground, trying to reign everything in. “Y/N, please… look at me, I can help you,” he says earnestly.

You look at him with wide eyes and meet his blue ones, which are currently full of concern and maybe fear. Bucky grabs your hand and puts it on his chest, where you can feel his heartbeat. He starts taking deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth. You feel his breath on your face, as you continue to look into his eyes.

Before you know it, you’re matching his breaths. It takes about 15 minutes or so before you feel better, but Bucky keeps his hold on your hand. You let you eyes drop to your lap, continuing to breath deeply.

“I…I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispers. You shake your head, not wanting to hear it. “I didn’t mean anything I said. I just…” he stops himself and takes a deep breath.

“The night that I met Nat in the bar, I was actually interested in someone else,” he says softly.

You don't move, continuing to look at your lap. “I, uh… I was actually interested in… you,” he says looking away, embarrassed. Your eyes shoot to his face, this makes zero sense to you.

“My friend Sam, I think you met him once, he went down to the bar to get drinks and overheard a conversation you were having with Nat. You were talking about me and my friends. Sizing us up and commenting on who you would go for. Nat made mention of me and you made a comment.”

Bucky scoffs at this and looks at you. You think back to that night when you and Nat first saw Bucky.

Flashback

You and Nat are sitting in the bar people watching. You hear laughter coming from a hightop table near by and take a look. You see a group of good looking guys, but one man stood out for you. He had long brown hair, the bluest of eyes, and a sharp jawline, and you were immediately attracted to him.

“Dibs on the long haired hottie,” Nat whispered to you. You couldn’t help but be disappointed that you and Nat were attracted to the same guy. Nat had just gotten out of a bad relationship, and was looking for someone to help heal her heart. You had been single for too long, and was ready for love.

You decided that Nat’s need for love was greater than your own and conceded. You didn’t want her to know that you were checking him out, so you played it off like you weren’t interested.

You scoff, “I-I mean if you're into that biker gang, poor city boy type then go for it. I'd rather not,” you laugh outwardly, but inside you screamed at yourself. You've always put others needs before your own, and now your throwing the most beautiful man you've ever seen toward Nat.

After 10 minutes you look back over to the table and notice the long haired hottie was looking toward your table, but you can tell he's looking at Nat. He eventually came over to talk to her, ignoring you, and then they left together that night. All the while you kept thinking that could have been you.

End of Flashback

You look into Bucky’s eyes with regret and sorrow. How're you going to explain yourself. It's no wonder he hated you, what you said was out of line and so judgemental. Bucky just watches different emotions cross your face.

“Bucky… I.. I'm so sorry that you found out what I said. It was out of line, and I don't blame you for not liking me. But, you have to know that I really didn’t mean it,” you said, your voice waving from the tears that were starting to pour down your face.

Bucky scoffed at this, “Of course you didn’t. Isn’t that typical,” he says, finally letting go of your hand and walking a few more paces away from you.

You stand on your shaky legs and look at him. “Bucky, you have to let me explain what really happened that night, please.”

He turns around and looks at you, anger and hurt evident in his blue eyes. “Why would I believe anything that you say? Huh? Why should I?” he shouts.

You flinch from his tone, but stand your ground. “Because you just made the same mistake I did. You just said things about me that you didn’t mean. I'm here accepting your apology, you should at least hear me out!” you shout back.

Bucky looks at you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. That night, I heard you and your friends laughing. I turned around and you were the first person I saw. I never saw a man as handsome as you." Your face heats up in embarrassment.

"I was immediately attracted to you from first glance. I so wanted to know you. I wanted to learn everything about you, and have you take me home that night,” you take a deep steadying breath.

“Nat called dibs," you said with a shrug. "Which I know sounds childish, but I conceded. She'd just gotten out of a bad relationship, and I didn’t want to stand in her way of happiness. So I had to play it off that I wasn’t interested in you, even though it was the complete opposite. If she knew, she would've backed off, because she is so amazing. So... I said those things to make her think I wasn’t interested, but my god I was. It’s killed me to see you guys get together. Even though you have said cruel and terrible things to me, I...", you pause wondering if you should say it.

"All I've ever heard from Nat is how completely amazing you are, and I can’t help thinking if I didn’t give up so easily… th-that maybe you and I could've been together. But I thought how stupid I am because you liked Nat, so...” you say this last part in a whisper.

You look up at Bucky, who is just staring at you. “H-how do I know that any of that is remotely true?” he asks.

You sniff and shrug your shoulders. “I told Nat the truth after she told me she was moving across the country, when we were drunk. She felt bad, but she doesn't know that I still have some unresolved feelings. Not that it matters because you hate my guts. You can ask her though,” you say.

Bucky looks at you for what feels like forever. You see the anger in his eyes, that slowly changes into something else that you couldn't quite read. His eyes continue to get softer as the minutes pass by. Before you knew it, Bucky was quickly walking towards you in long strides. He grabs you by the back of the neck and smashes his lips into yours.

Chapter 2 / Chapter 4

Feedback is appreciated. Yes I have a thing for toxic relationships... sorry...not sorry.

Permanent Taglist: Permanent Taglist: @rebekahdawkins @marajade1974 @missvelvetsstuff @phillygirl77 @pattiemac1 @winterslove1917 @vampire7595 @unkasworld @midnightramyeoncravings

Story Taglist: @unaxv @kandis-mom

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky angst #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x natasha #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female yn #asshole bucky #bucky is an asshole #misunderstanding

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writeandsurvive · 6 months

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AUTHORS NOTE: like I posted recently, this was supposed to be short at first, but here we are now, cutting it in two parts. I'm not sure I did a good job but I really liked the idea. So I hope I did it justice and you guys will enjoy it! 🫣

SUMMARY: your husband wants to open your marriage and Alden Parker is there for you.

WARNINGS: Fem!reader, marriage, open relationship, nsfw, protected sex, piv, oral, spanking, age gap (30s-50s), fall, injury, concussion, lies, vegetarian!reader, Alden kinda teaching sex, ass man!Alden, toxic!mom, reader being her (real) daddy's little girl

Taking over ~ Alden Parker 1/2

From the moment your husband of five years asked for an open relationship, you knew it was over. Bigamy was never your thing, you dedicated yourself to one person at the time and you thought it was the same for him. But somehow, after almost ten years of dating and five of marriage, he needed something new, someone else. Of course, he already had a person in mind; his cute coworker who had been eyeing him for a while, she was barely in her twenties, and was everything you were not. Beautiful with prominent curves, tall. The woman who wears high heels and makeup every single day of their lives, no matter what the circumstances. Your work as an NCIS agent didn't allow you to be this girly kind of woman, not that you'd be even with another job. It wasn't you and you thought your husband liked it, or at least, was fine with it. How wrong.

You were not sure why but you agreed to his request. The wedding vows meant something to you; you were ready to make it work, no matter what. To be entirely honest, the idea of divorcing in your mid thirties wasn't appealing at all, especially with the job taking eighth percent of your time. It felt impossible to meet someone new and start all over again. The plan was for you to have kids soon, not your husband fooling around with his hot new coworker.

There was no way you'd tell the team about what was going on. They wouldn't understand, especially Nick and Tim, who love and protect you like their sister. They like your husband very much, he became family too but this wouldn't sit right with them, and you wouldn't blame them. It didn't sit right with you in the first place. So you hid it to everyone for a couple of months. Every night your husband was out with her, you felt betrayed and thought so little of you. Were you a fool for agreeing to this?

But you decided to stop feeling sorry for yourself. After all, it was an open relationship, which meant you could be with someone else too. But who? You had never been the type of person to go out and hook up with the first stranger you found attractive, so going out just to meet someone wasn't an option. Sleeping with someone from work? The only option was the new team member Alden Parker, who you admittedly found very attractive, but this could be a very bad idea. You were still learning to know one another and getting used to the new team dynamic.

You felt desperate and alone.

You thought you hid it well, but you were quite wrong. During a stakeout, where it was just you and Alden in the car, he didn't wait long before asking how you were. "I'm fine, why?"

"I know I've only been here for a few months, and we're still getting to know each other, but I can tell something's wrong with you. You're closed off."

You laughed softly, earning a side eye from Alden. "Surprising that you're the one noticing."

"Maybe I'm paying too much attention-- to the team. So, what's up? You know you can trust me, right?"

You locked eyes with him for a moment, seeing how sincere and sweet he really was. "Yeah, I know. It's just-- embarrassing? Sad? Wrong? I don't know." You sighed, looking around the area because you had a job to do.

"Is this about your marriage?" He asked suddenly, catching you off guard. You looked at him with a puzzled look. "You don't talk much about your husband, even when the guys asked about him. They mentioned not seeing him in a while." You played with your wedding band while looking at it. "I've been married for ten years. Nothing you'll say will surprise me."

"Think so? Did your ex-wife ask for an open relationship?" You didn't really think before talking, and immediately regretted telling Alden about it. Your cheeks turned red, and you avoided his eyes for a very long time afterwards.

"Okay, um. I admit that-- you surprised me, good job." He paused. "Did he ask that suddenly?"

Since you spilled the beans, you might as well tell him everything. You needed to talk to someone, have someone's opinion. So, you gave him a resume of the past two months. How your husband told you about it, his coworker he's been dating, how you had been feeling, your fears.

"Honestly, I don't even understand how he could've asked that. I mean, if I was your husband, I wouldn't want another woman, and I definitely wouldn't want to share you."

You uncontrollably smiled at that despite the tears threatening to fall. "Too bad you're not my husband then." You joked, but Alden didn't laugh. He softly put his hand on top of yours, stopping you from nervously rubbing them together. The simple contact felt very nice, you didn't remember the last time your husband held your hands.

"I don't know your husband, and I want to meet him even less than before, but it does sound like he just wanted to be with this girl, without actually cheating. But mark my word, he'll regret it. I'm pretty sure that the moment you tell him you're seeing someone, he won't like it."

"Yeah, well I don't know if that'll happen, so..." You trailed off, looking down at your joined hands. His thumb was rubbing small circles on your knuckles, and that tiny gesture felt great. All you wanted to do was reach out for a hug from him. You were certain he'd give the best hugs; gentle and tender but tight.

"Why not? I mean, you could get anyone."

"Even you?" You weren't sure what had gotten into you, where this bluntness was coming from but since it was out of your mouth, you turned your face to lock eyes with Alden. He was already looking at you, leaning just slightly. He stayed silent for a moment, his eyes going down to your lips a couple of times.

"Anyone." He repeated softly.

Silence filled the car from a moment, it was just you and Alden speaking through your looks. Eventually, you broke it off by laughing. A soft and nervous laugh, and you immediately buried your face in his shoulder. He chuckled too, unsure of what this meant.

"I'm sorry," you said. "I laugh when I'm nervous. I'm not sure what's happening here, or even what I'm supposed to do."

His cheek was resting on the top of your head. "I didn't mean to make you nervous. I don't want us to be awkward with each other. It's just-- yeah, you can have me if you want."

You slowly lifted your head, just enough to look him in the eyes. He was sincere. After a moment of hesitation, you reached out and pressed your lips against his. Alden immediately melted into the kiss, holding the back of your head to intensify it. Before you knew it, his tongue was inside your mouth, allowing you to taste the coffee he just drank. The kiss lasted a long time and you couldn't remember the last time you'd been kissed like this. He truly wanted you and at this moment, he was all you wanted.

Remembering that you were on a stakeout, you eventually pulled away. Growling, Alden took a second to adjust himself and that was when you noticed the obvious budge in his suit pants. It seemed...big. "Oh wow." You said, uncontrollably.

Alden followed your eyes to his erection, and readjust himself again. "Um, yeah, sorry. I can leave the car--"

"What, no! Absolutely not! It's just-- intriguing? How big are you?"

He laughed - not without a certain pride. "Nothing to be afraid of." He smirked and winked.

"I highly doubt that." You said, still looking at it.

After a split second, you felt Alden's fingers stroking your chin and pressing gently to make you look at him. "Let me take you out to dinner. No pressure, just a nice time between two friends."

"So, not a date?"

"If you want it to be a date, then a date it is."

"Do you want it? I mean, it's not a regular situation and I'd understand if you didn't want to get in the middle of this."

"Your husband is clearly failing in his duties, and I'll be happy to take over, show you how you're supposed to be treated."

"Okay then."

Okay then. You and Alden did your best to take your hands and mouth off of each other during the rest of the stakeout. It was rough, because all you wanted was to climb onto him in the driver seat and discover how he feels. How he would make you feel.

But Alden was the perfect gentleman. After agreeing to have the date once the case is closed, he kept a reasonable distance from you. Too much time with you would prevent him from acting correctly, because he desperately wanted you.

He had since he joined NCIS. But he immediately noticed your wedding band - plus the age difference - so he tried to shut his crush down. However, everyday was a challenge. You were everything he ever dreamed of in a woman, and not just physically. He felt like a teenager around you, which pissed him off sometimes. How could he, a fifty-something years old man, could have a stupid crush on his thirty-something years old coworker? He felt highly inappropriate for months, especially when you stopped talking about your husband and Alden wondered if it could mean something. For a second, he hoped you had split up before being mad at himself for thinking about something like that. Now, the opportunity showed up, and if he had to be the side boyfriend, then he would be.

It was Friday night, the case was finally closed and you were working on reports and paperwork. Alden told McGee and Palmer to go home and be with their kids, when Nick complained about not being able to leave early cause he didn't have kids. "Fine, go home too before I change my mind. You too girls." He added, looking at Jess then you. Nick and Jess were in the elevator before you had time to respond. You stood up and walked over to Alden's desk.

"Good job, boss." You giggled.

"Nick is too predictable, that was easy."

"Now what?" You leaned against his desk, and it took him all his self control to keep his hands to himself.

"You tell me. Is it too late to go on that date?" He stood up from his chair, his body dangerously close to yours.

"I don't think so, but I'm gonna need an hour to go home and get ready."

"Why are you still here?"

Unconsciously, you pecked his lips before leaving. Alden smiled at that little gesture, before rushing out, so he could go home and get ready too.

Good thing your husband wasn't home. He had texted you that he would be out for the night, with her you assumed, not that you really cared anymore. Alden texted you, asking if he could pick you up, and if he should park away from the house. 'I'm home alone, act like you'd do normally.' you answered. So he did just that.

You opened the front door to find Alden Parker all dressed up, holding some flowers. You couldn't control your grin, nor the butterflies in your stomach. "You had time to pick up some flowers for me?" He handed them to you, and leaned over to kiss your cheek, making you blush and feel other things.

"They are actually from my greenhouse. I picked the most beautiful ones, but you are the most beautiful flower."

You giggled nervously while smelling the flowers, before walking towards the kitchen. "Come on in for a sec -- they are so pretty, Alden. Thank you so much." You couldn't remember the last time your husband offered you some flowers.

"Are you sure that's okay? For me to be in?" To be honest, he felt a bit uncomfortable there. It was just a reminder that you weren't completely available. You were married and would never be his entirely.

"We're not doing anything in the house. I'm just putting these in a vase."

To Alden's relief, you were out just a minute later. He held your hand up to his car, opened and closed the door for you. It wasn't much, but those small things melted you. "Where are we going?" You asked, after he started to drive.

"That's a surprise." He smirked.

"Not to be a pain, I don't know if you know, but I'm a vegetarian and it--" you felt his hand on your thigh. His touch was soft and gentle.

"I know, don't worry, okay?"

You obviously didn't have to worry because Alden took you to a vegetarian restaurant. It was fairly new and you hadn't been there yet, so you were excited. Again, he acted like the perfect gentleman, holding doors, keeping his hand in the small of your back, telling you to pay no attention to the prices.

The dinner was amazing, both the food and the chemistry between you and Alden. The conversation flooded easily, you got to really know each other, talking about your families, childhoods, hobbies. At any point did you talk about work, nor your marriage. "I could eat more vegetarian dishes." He admitted, tasting how good the food was.

"That'd definitely be better than your current diet." You teased.

"What's wrong with my diet?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Don't make me say it." You giggled.

"Please do."

"It's the diet of an overworked bachelor, plus pastries. Tons of pastries."

"Overworked bachelor, huh?" He smiled. "And I thought you liked my pastries."

"I do, very much. I just think you should eat healthier."

"Point taken. It's nice to have someone who cares."

You put your hand on top of his, and he welcomed it. "I do care, Alden." He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

"So do I." He answered.

Were you supposed to care in a situation like this?

After the restaurant, Alden asked if you wanted to keep the night going or if you wanted a ride home. There was no way you were going home just yet, so you drove for about fifteen minutes, before pulling over to the Bowlero. Alden laughed when you looked at him with a grin. "I knew you'd like that."

"So much! I'm so gonna kick your ass at every game!" This time Alden didn't have time to circle the car cause you were out before him. You grabbed his hand and rushed him inside.

You started with the arcades. Alden knew you were a competitive person, he heard you arguing with McGee over a game you played together, he even remembered Jimmy saying something about Victoria being upset during a board game because you wouldn't let her win. But Alden would let you win every game possible if it meant you'd smile and do a ridiculous happy dance. He wanted to kiss you every time you mocked him for losing, and also punished you in his very own way.

Then you offered to play pool. Except that pool was Alden's game. He was ridiculously good at it, probably because he spent long hours playing with friends when he was younger. However, he was distracted. Every time you leaned over the table for your turn, showing off your pretty ass in that tight dress, his cock twitched. The things he wanted to do to you in that position. "I thought you were a killer at pool?" You teased, mid-game.

"I'm a bit distracted." He said, positioning himself over the table.

"By my ass?"

Since you were on the other side of the table, you slowly turned around and shook your hips just slightly. "Fuck, sweetheart. You can't do this here. That ass is only for me to enjoy."

You turned around again, laughing. "Looks like those teenage boys enjoyed the view."

Alden immediately turned his face to where you were pointed, ready to give those boys a death glare. But there were no boys, or anyone else. "Not funny." He turned back to you. "Get out of my eyesight, so I can win this."

You circled the table to be behind him. You actually checked out his ass too. After hitting the white ball, and watching two balls going inside the holes, he faced you. "Much better." He smiled, proud of himself.

You got closer, pressing your body against his. "I didn't pin you for an ass man." You whispered.

He cleared his throat. "I'd always considered myself a tits man. But you--" he pressed his forehead against yours, his hand roaming at the small of your back. He wanted to touch your butt, and so did you. "You drive me crazy." He just said.

"Let's finish this game, fast."

To your displeasure, Alden won, even though he did fail a few balls on purpose. On the way back to the car, you kept talking about the game, what you did wrong, even accused him of cheating which made him laugh. "Damn, you don't deserve sex tonight." You finished the rambling, as you reached the car.

"Okan then," he opened the passenger for you but stood in the way. "I'll just drop you off." He had a tiny smirk on his face, but his instinct told him you wanted sex as much as he did, but he was also afraid you just wanted an excuse to go home. "Can I kiss you good night now?"

"Idiot." You said, grabbing his collar into a fist and bringing him into you. His body crashed into yours as he didn't hold his weight back on purpose, so he could catch you. His hands were immediately on your ass, right before his lips were on yours. If that kiss in the car had been something, this was even more. You and Alden were practically making out in the parking lot, not caring that you could be seen. "I wanna see your greenhouse." You whispered, out of breath.

The greenhouse was prettier than you expected. While holding your hand or your waist, Alden showed you some of his plants and flowers, even telling you about the ones he offered you earlier. But your eyes were more focused on him, his face, his lips, than anything else. "You're not listening to me, are you?" He chuckled.

"I'm a bit distracted." You said, reminded his words from earlier.

He gently grabbed your face in his hands and locked eyes with you. "I gotta ask-- are you sure about this?"

"Are you?"

He kissed you as an answer. Then he carried you into his bedroom, and put you down, without ever breaking the kiss. Your lips were probably bruised and swollen by now, not that you cared one bit. He paid attention to your neck, finding that sweet spot, while his hands traveled your body. You were completely melting under his touch. "Have you told how fucking sexy you are?" He asked.

"No."

"Then I'm sorry. Cause damnit you are the sexiest woman ever." His hands and mouth were working on your breasts as you were desperately trying to unbutton his shirt. His words did something to your core and to your heart.

"I need to feel your skin, Alden." You whined. He stopped so you could get rid of his shirt and he took the opportunity to strip you off your dress. Seeing you in your matching lace underwear shortcut his brain. There was so much he wanted to do and say, he couldn't decide where to start.

You touched his hairy chest, kissing his pec then his neck. "Alden? You with me?" Growling, he picked you up just enough to lay you down on his bed. He covered your body with his, kissing you roughly.

"I'm right here, sweetheart." He whispered. "Right here with you."

You both agreed to skip the foreplay, and orals, as you just needed to feel each other right away. Alden was already painfully hard, while you had already ruined your panties. So he grabbed a condom from his nightstand, rubbed his length against your slit for a moment before intruding your core. You both moaned at the feeling, even though he wasn't fully in just yet. "I knew it. I was right to be afraid."

Alden got confused for a second before understanding. He completely laid down on you, stroking your hair and softly kissing your lips, chin and cheeks. "Just a couple more inches, baby. I know you can do it. You're my good girl, aren't you?" His praises worked wonders on you.

He gently thrusted without going fully, until you told him he could. When he bottomed out, you screamed out loud, your eyes rolling back inside your skull. Alden didn't hold back his noises either - which got you even wetter - as he stared down at you with pure lust. It took all of his willing power not to pin you down and fucked you hard. "That's it, princess. I told you you could take all of me." He kissed you. "Fuck, your pussy is sucking me in." He nipped your bottom lip. "Can I move, baby? Please?" He sounded desperate.

"Fuck yes, Den. Fuck me." He didn't need more.

It wasn't a long and sweet love making. You were both so worked up and desperate for each other, it didn't take long until you and Alden came undone, shouting each other's names. While his cock softened inside you, he collapsed on you, listening to your heart pounding in your chest, just like his was. Your hand was resting in his hair.

"That was--" he tried to say.

"Yeah." You agreed.

Soon after, Alden left for a minute and came back with a wet cloth and some water. He cleaned you up, while you drank and stared. "I didn't hurt you, right?" He asked, concerned.

"Not at all." You stroked his cheek. "but you're definitely bigger than--" you stopped there. His brows furrowed together and he was speaking again.

"Was he the only one you've ever--"

"Yup." You confessed, looking down at the glass of water which suddenly seemed intriguing.

"Oh, um. I didn't know," he drank from his own glass.

"Would it have changed something?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"Well I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It seemed irrelevant." You started to move. "If you want to pretend this didn't happen, then fine with me, I'll--" Alden grabbed your arm before you could pull yourself on your knees and brought you against his chest.

"That makes me your second?"

"One, two... You can count, good job." His hand immediately smacked against your butt cheek. You looked at him in disbelief but with a smile on your face.

"I should teach you how to count the right way." He spanked you again. Your eyes went dark, and he knew you liked it very very much. Perfect.

"How many was that? Four?" You teased and two more spanks hit you. You uncontrollably moaned in his chest, and bit his nipple. He let out a high pitched yelp, making you giggle. He put his glass down on the nightstand, - almost dropping it - before getting on top of you, face down on the mattress. Since the four spanks had been on the same cheek, it was already pink, and it sprung Alden's cock back to life. He gave your other cheek a spank.

"No biting, little brat."

You could feel his cock resting between your ass cheeks and for a moment, you considered giving Alden what you always refused to your husband. This ass, your ass... was Alden's to love, fuck and spank.

"Not even a little?" You asked, innocently and earned another spank. You moaned against, burying your face in the pillow - that smelled wonderfully like Alden.

He grabbed a handful of your flesh, leaned over and bit your ass, before smoothing it with his tongue and lips. "Alden," you whined.

"What is it, princess? Do you want something?"

"Your tongue." You whispered.

He spanked you again but was a bit gentler this time. "Louder. You need to be loud and clear."

"I want you to eat my pussy!" You cried.

"Ask and you shall receive."

He turned you over and did exactly what you wanted.

After you came in his mouth, allowing him to drink every bit of you, Alden was painfully hard and ready to go again. He teased your entrance with the tip but you stopped him. He immediately pulled away, giving you space, afraid he did something wrong. But when he saw you turning around with a mischievous smile on your face, he understood. "My turn."

You knew you gave good blowjobs...to your husband. Then again, he was smaller than Alden's so it was easier for you. As you started to suck on Den's cock, you were desperately hoping he would enjoy it. You didn't want to disappoint him. But you could barely take half of him without choking. Still, from his noises, growls and words, he seemed to love it. "Relax your throat, baby. No rush, no worries. You're doing so good." This man could read you like a fucking open book.

You followed his instructions, took your time and slowly, you were able to take a bit more of his length. "Baby, if you choke on my cock one more time, I'm gonna cum." Since it was exactly what you wanted, you took as much as you could, choked and drank to the very last drop of his release.

As bad as he wanted to fuck you one more time, Alden's cock was unresponsive for the rest of the night. So you simply cuddled in bed, made small talk before quickly drifting away.

For a month, everything was great. Things with Alden were amazing, he was an actual dream. Most of the time, you forgot you were married to someone else, it was all about Alden, Alden, Alden. He was extremely sweet and thoughtful, he cared and wasn't afraid to show it, he treated you like a princess, except sometimes during sex. You always liked sex, but with your husband, it has never been too crazy, not that it was bad either. However, with Alden, you discovered yourself, found out you had some kinks and he was more than happy to oblige them.

The team complimented you several times, saying that you were glowing. Thanking them, you saw Alden smirking behind their backs, knowing he was the reason for that glow. It was crazy that they didn't notice what was going on, or at least, they never said or hint anything.

Your relationship with your husband was practically non-existent. You'd run into each other here and there, talked briefly about stuff but that was it. You obviously told him you were seeing someone, and he didn't ask anything, not even who was the guy, or if you were respecting the rules. It felt like he didn't care anymore, and eventually, you stopped caring too. All your focus apart from work, was on Alden and your relationship with this wonderful man.

It was your husband's birthday, and as a tradition, his family and your parents would come over for dinner to celebrate. You turned down Alden's offer to go on a date, mostly because you felt like you had to be there. The families had no idea what was happening and you couldn't just bail on them.

You were preparing a couple of dishes when your husband came home after meeting with his best friend - he said. He surprised you by hugging you from behind and planted kisses in your neck. You instantly stiffed, and tried to wiggle your way out. "What are you doing?" You asked.

"Kissing my wife. Am I not allowed?"

"You haven't touched me for months. Not even a hug."

"I know." He grabbed your waist and spined you around to face him. "It was my mistake and I'm sorry."

He leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled away before his lips could touch yours. "Wait, what is happening here?"

"Did you seriously pull away from a kiss?"

"You can't just come over to me, after months of ignoring me, and expect kisses, cuddles or whatever."

"I don't remember you trying either. I mean, you've barely been home this past month."

"You know exactly where I was."

"Right, with him. Who is he anyways?"

You let out a dry laugh. "So, now you're asking?"

"I am, and I expect an answer." He folded his arms against his chest.

"Someone from work."

He stayed silent for a second. "Nick?"

"Ew, come on."

"I know for sure it's not Tim, nor Jimmy! Wait-- is it the new guy? What's his name?"

"Parker, yes." There was no point in lying.

"Oh my god," he had a humorless laugh. "I can't believe this. That's why I never met him."

"No, you never met him cause you haven't cared in a long time."

"Says the girl who only cares about her job and her team!"

"If that was the problem from the beginning, you could've just said so and asked for a divorce."

"I don't want a divorce! I love you still." You stayed silent. He was obviously expecting you to say it back, but you couldn't. You didn't know if you still loved him. "You're not saying it back."

"I've got to get ready. The parents will be here soon."

You and your husband basically ignored each other, which wasn't difficult. Between the parents, siblings and kids, you each focused on different persons and nobody questioned it. Dinner was barely getting started when your phone rang. It was Alden, so you picked and listened while he told you there was a crime scene and gave you the address. "sorry for ruining your evening, sweetheart." He said.

"Oh no, don't worry." You were somehow relieved.

You got back to the living area where everyone was. "I'm sorry I've got to leave guys. Duty calls." They seemed disappointed but they knew how your jobs worked. "Gonna get changed." You rushed upstairs.

You had barely taken off your dress that your husband merged inside. "It was him, wasn't it?" He asked, angry.

"He's the team leader, he gets the calls and then calls us, so yes." You put on some pants.

"How do I know it's really about work?"

Onto the shirt. "Our families are here. Do you think I'd give up on them?"

"No, but you'd give up on me. You are."

"Stop." You opened the door, and walked away but your husband stopped you right next to the stairs.

"Don't go, stay here with us, with me."

"It's my work, I have to go."

"Work, yeah right." He was raising his voice. "You just want to see him."

"I said stop it!" You tried to pull away but he wasn't letting go of your arms.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" He yelled.

"Let go of me!"

You fought him off, and that was all you remembered but it went dark.

Alden knew something was wrong and so did the team when you never showed up at the crime scene. They all tried to call you multiple times for hours until finally someone picked up when Alden called one more time. "Sweetheart, hey, is everyth--"

"I'm sorry, do you call all of your colleagues 'sweetheart'?"

"Hmm." Alden didn't recognize the voice on the other side but it definitely wasn't you. He suspected the woman to be your mother. "Why isn't Y/N answering? Is she okay?"

"She's at the hospital." Alden's heart stopped at this moment. "She fell down the stairs while she was getting ready and hurt her head. I just got back to the house and found her phone."

"Oh my god," his heart was pounding. "Which hospital is she at? She's gonna be okay, right? The injury isn't too bad?" Nick who was hearing the conversation, called out the rest of the team to approach.

"She has a mid concussion, they are keeping her overnight but she's fine."

"Thank god!" Alden exclaimed uncontrollably. "Which hospital? I'll go see her--"

"No."

"No?"

"She's a married woman, so you need to stay away from her."

"Ma'am--" he tried to talk, say something, anything but your mother kept going.

"I don't know exactly what happened, but it honestly doesn't matter. Whatever was going on between you and my daughter, it ends now. As her superior, and a man old enough to be her father, you should be ashamed."

"Ma'am!" He tried again.

"You know what, you should quit. But if you don't, I'll make sure she doesn't come back to NCIS. It'll be for the best anyways, this job takes too much of her. And it's not taking her marriage. So don't come anywhere near her, and have Nick call next time." She hung up.

Completely stunned, Alden had to sit so he opened the car's door and let himself fall onto the seat. The team was staring as he covered his face and rubbed his eyes. "Parker!" McGee brought him back to reality.

"Yeah, um. She fell down the stairs apparently and has a concussion. They are keeping her at the hospital for the night."

"Okay, move Park, I'm driving." Nick said, waiting for Alden to leave the driver's seat vacant.

"I don't know which hospital. Tim, please tell me you got your laptop?"

Luckily, Tim did have his laptop, and they checked every hospital admissions until they found which one you were at. Nick did drive himself and Alden, while the other had to stay behind to finish up on the crime scene. The team leader didn't say a word during the ride, and Nick respected his silence. He's known about Alden's crush on you for months.

After a few hours and multiple exams, the medical team finally put you in a room. The doctor asked you to not sleep for now, even though you were exhausted and in pain. Your dad joined in, and you were relieved to see that he was alone. "You scared the shit out of me, babygirl." He said, gently kissing your temple. "I'm glad you're fine. The doc doesn't want you to fall asleep just yet, so we're gonna talk, okay?"

"Dad, I don't want to talk right now."

"I need to understand what's going on. You know I'm not judging you and I never will, but did you have an affair with that new guy in your team?"

"That's what he told you?" Your dad nodded.

Of course your husband lied, but you told your father the entire truth. From months ago, to the moment right before you fell down the stairs. You told him about Alden, how you were falling with this man, and how you wanted to be with him and just him. You've been a daddy's little girl from day one, and have always been honest with him, he was kinda hurt you didn't confide in him when it all started, but you know he wouldn't react well.

"Where is he?" You asked eventually, speaking of your husband. "I don't want to see him. Please, don't let him in, dad."

"He's probably getting his nose patched up right now. And I warned him, don't worry. I don't want him anywhere near you." You looked at him, puzzled. "Whether you had an affair or not, I don't care. You fell because of him. Did he--push you, honey?" Your father's jaw was clenched, as well as his fists. He was ready to fight some more.

"No, no! He was just holding me back, I was trying to get out of his grip and the stairs were right there."

Your dad relaxed his fists only slightly, but he didn't have time to say anything.

"You fell because of that motherfucker???"

Alden and Nick were standing at the door.

You never saw that look on Alden's face before, never actually heard him talk this way. Nick wasn't looking any better, very much like your dad, he was ready to fight. Smiling shyly, you extended your hand towards the man you loved. Alden took it, while your father stood up from the bed.

"You two!" You called out your dad and Nick. "You're gonna stay in the hallway, but I swear to god if you go rogue, I'll kick both your asses."

"Yes ma'am!" They both answered, before leaving the room.

"You--" you turned your attention back to Alden, who was breathing heavily. "Sit." He did, and you stroked his beard. "I'm okay."

"You fell, you have a concussion, because of him. That's not okay for me."

"Just hold me, love. Stay here and hold me." He did. "And don't let me sleep."

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