#and I already have a summer project (my space au)

[jussst-lurking]

Lesbian Lestappen

Ok, seeing a picture of girl Max unlocked an entire fucking story idea in my brain! Here goes (this is long btw):

It would sort of be lestappen through the years (cliché I know) but!!! they’re both girls. So imagine, Max and Charlene in karting as the only girls and they are both really really good, Max was basically winning everything in the regional Dutch championships, and even though it’s her father who’s doing this with her, she’s always compared to her mother (maybe also because ppl see that she’s talented but no one thinks she’ll actually take this further than karting).

Meanwhile Charlene is really successful in the regional French championships and when they both start racing internationally and against each other and as the only girls in the classification people start whispering about them. Some see them as promising young talents, others don’t look on them as favourably.

Anyways, the two of them get pitted against each other a lot (as society tends to do with women and girls) and they constantly fight each other for wins and they cannot fucking stand each other (especially Charlene, because Max tends to get the better of her more often than the other way around, and she really has this mindset that there can only be one girl here.)

Fast forward a couple years: in a shocking move that nobody saw coming Toro Rosso offers Max a drive for 2015. People are outraged, say she’s too young at 17, say she won’t be able to take the pressure, write disgusting speculative articles about whether she’ll be able to keep up with the boys, or that she’s getting the seat because she’s a girl or some shit (as if you’d get preferential treatment in motorsport when you’re female). Anyways, Max enters the sport and serves absolute cunt, not taking shit from anybody, achieving multiple p4 in a car that clearly doesn’t belong there, she’s battling with many of the well established drivers and wins (sometimes) but she also gets criticised a shitload for her ‘overly aggressive’ driving style, with many calling it unnecessary and dangerous, others even joking that it’s not ladylike to drive that way. Max obviously doesn’t give a shit, says that’s the way she drives and that people should deal with it.

Then, in 2016 more shocking news: they’re putting her in the Red Bull not even half way though the season. People criticise the move left and right, again the arguments of her being too young, too immature, unable to handle the pressure of a top team, that she’s driving too aggressively and will only bring the team down etc. Max shuts them up by winning her first race for the team, with an RB 1-2 in Malaysia, and that phenomenal drive in the wet in Brazil. Rules get changed because of her, older drivers are afraid of her (see: Nico Rosberg in Abu Dhabi 2016) and the discourse around her never really stops.

People also see how well she’s getting on with Daniel, and oh, they’re vile about it! Say she’s flirting with him and manipulating him and all of that good stuff. Some people think she slept her way into that rb seat anyways…

At the same time, Charlene is setting the junior categories on fire, winning f3 and gp2 in a row, both times as a rookie, and it’s hard to look away from her. It seems almost inevitable when it gets announced that Charlene will debut in f1 with Alfa Romeo. Like with Max, there’s backlash, but maybe less so because Charlene proved herself by winning 2 junior categories in a row. Still, some question the direction f1 is headed in. (Also when f1 gets rid of the grid girls and many see it as pandering to woke culture and all of that. Maybe they even try to blame Max (and Charlene) for it.)

There is an absolute shitstorm when Ferrari kicks out Kimi (of all people!) and signs Charlene for 2019. People say the nastiest shit about her.

She doesn’t want to admit it at first, but all the vile comments and inappropriate interview questions get to her and so she reluctantly seeks out Max.

Max herself is dealing with the news of Daniel leaving and people blaming her for it, saying the team is building around her, trying to make her the first female world champion and so on.

Charlene confides in Max that she’s struggling with all the things people say about her and that she sometimes questions whether she actually deserves the seat. Max tells her that people are assholes and that Charlene shouldn’t listen to them because she 100% deserves that Ferrari seat, but also that it’s harder for them here, that they basically have to be twice as good to get half the recognition and therefore it’s important to just keep pushing, keep your head down and do the talking on track.

Things heat back up between them in 2019: they are in a fierce battle for 3rd in the championship and shit hits the fan in Austria, people are taking sides, pitting them against each other even more. The battles they produce are some of the most entertaining races of the entire season.

Things calm down in 2020, what with the pandemic and Ferrari being shit, there isn’t really much happening between the two of them except for that incident in Sakhir.

But then 2021 comes around and Max has her first proper chance to fight for the title. She grabs her opportunity with both hands and leads the championship by Monaco. Even though Ferrari is better this year, Max and Lewis are in a league of their own and all the attention is on them. Then, Silverstone happens. A heated battle turns into all out war, splitting the fan base, and Max is getting slandered and demonised by the media and she has so much pressure on her shoulders. She appears to handle it well, but Charlene sees all the vile and sexist shit people are saying about Max and she absolutely is not having it and reaches out to Max to make sure she’s ok. They start a tentative friendship, mostly bound to the paddock and even though Max isn’t saying it and it’s not visible from the outside, her friendship with Charlene, who can relate to her in a way others can’t, gives her so much strength to keep going. Max wins her first Championship in the most controversial fashion possible, but she holds her head high and ignores the people calling her a fake champion.

She takes the number 1 for herself, mostly because that’s what she always wanted, but also to remind people who the reigning champion is. The gold details on her helmet and the golden boots are there to highlight it even more.

2022 starts with a bang, the new regulations seem to be working as Max and Charlene battle for the win and for the championship. Everybody is surprised by how well they seem to get along with each other, and despite multiple attempts by the media to put the two against each other, they have nothing but kind words to say. The battle for the championship doesn’t last very long though, because Ferrari keeps screwing up the strategy and suffer from unreliability. Max is Charlene’s number 1 defender when people try to put the blame on her. They get closer, get into a habit of discussing their races together and sometimes they go out after a race or meet up in a hotel room to watch a movie to unwind. Max is always there to comfort Charlene after a bad race and they both start to fall for each other (or maybe in Max’s case she starts realising that she’s had feelings for Charlene for a while now) and then, probably in Austria (because where else would it be) Max ‘accidentally’ ends up kissing Charlene during their race debrief that evening. Max apologises but Charlene says there’s no need to and kisses her. They get together and everything and Max wins her second title and then maybe they appear at the fia gala together but they don’t explain anything? And all of f1 is going crazy about what that means and so on and so forth, and then there are those cryptic pictures on instagram and then in 2023 they are so obvious and when Charlene gets pole in Baku Max just straight up kisses her, but they both refuse to elaborate on it, and that’s how everyone gets to know they’re dating.

[eternalxvenus]

୨⎯ Like a good neighbor, Gojo is there ⎯୧

summary: You've just moved into a fixer-upper in a quaint neighborhood, excited to start building and designing your dream home. Everything's perfect…or would be, if it weren't for that gorgeous but obnoxious Satoru Gojo next door, who you fight with practically every day.

cw: smut 18+, satoru gojo x f!reader, smut, a little fluff, a smidgen of plot if you squint, gojo is annoying, no curses au, gojo is stupidly rich, pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral f!receiving, p in v, light choking, squirting

word count: 1.5k

notes: this is my first time writing smut so pls bear with me… the tile is bc that logo has been stuck in my head all damn day </3, im also debating on making a part 2… and lastly HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!

You woke up to the sound of birds and wind, the sun shining brightly through your uncovered windows. As you stretched your limbs out with a groan trying to fully wake up, you thought about all the things you had to do today.

The clock shown 9:15am. Getting out of bed, the house was warm thanks to the summer morning. After doing your morning routine and eating breakfast you decide that you’re next project for the house will be painting the outside porch railing. You already had the paint, opting for a soft brown color.

Outside the air was warm and almost humid. The half empty coffee cup rested on the small table you had out there. Your clothes were already stained and rugged from previous projects done on the house. You picked up a paintbrush and promptly started on the porch.

About an hour or so later you were still painting, a light sheen in your forehead as you hummed a song stuck in your head. This was the peace you were looking for.

“Heyyy Y/N, how’s your morning going?” You roll your eyes, recognizing the all to chipper voice. Your neighbor Satoru Gojo. He was the most non-peaceful thing about the entire neighborhood. You tried to ignore him, but of course he was already making his way over. “I said good morning, what’s wrong too tired to speak?” he inquired.

A loud huff leaves your mouth. “No Gojo. I just don’t want to speak. To you at least.”

“Ah don’t be like that. I know what’s got you in a sour mood. It’s that ugly paint color isn’t it? Looks like shit— literally.”

“Gojo please do not come over here starting nonsense. It’s a pretty neutral brown. Now go away and leave me be.” You pick up the paint can and move to the next part of the porch. Gojo watches you lazily as you move about. He’s uncharacteristically silent and you almost forget that he’s even there. Glancing up to give him a look that says ‘What?’

With a no good smile on his face he says “Have lunch with me Y/N. Take a break and i’ll make us something good.”

You thought about declining but you were really hungry. As if on command your stomach growled rather loudly. “What’s the catch? You berate all my artistic choices thus far?” you deadpan.

With a hand over his chest in mock offense Gojo replies saying, “I would never!” He starts walking over to his house beckoning you to follow. “C’mon i’ll make us some sandwich wraps.”

You follow Gojo into his house and i soon as you step inside you see the stark contrast the inside has compared to the outside. Everything looks modern and sleek.

Gojo clears his throat before speaking. “Have a seat wherever. I’ll get started on the wraps.” You give a brief nod, walking into his living room to get a closer look at the decor. Fifteen minutes later, Gojo walks in empty handed.

“I put the wraps in the fridge. I usually let them sit in there about 10-15 minutes before eating so they have a better crunch and don’t get as soggy.” He plopped down on the couch stretching out his arms and legs. His eyes kept moving down to your ass as you walked around. “Come sit and let’s talk.”

You sit down next to him, making sure to leave a good amount of space between you both, before he scoots you closer by the hips.

“You know, I’ve never had such a pretty neighbor before…” Gojo’s voice is smooth and filled with seduction. Your heartbeat picks up as he places a hand on your thigh squeezing lightly.

“Gojo… what are you doing?” You ask in a breathy voice. His touch had an effect on you and you hated it. The last thing he needed was an ego boost.

“Oh come on Y/N, why do you think i’m always coming to bother you? I needed an excuse to see your pretty face.” He lowered his head to place light kisses along your jaw and neck. You moved your head to the side to give him better access. It couldn’t hurt to have a little fun…

Gojo moves from your neck and looks into your eyes. You see the dark lustful look in them before he pulls you in for a heated and bruising kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, both of you barely stopping to get any air. You can feel the heat and arousal rushing through your body as he pulls you into his lap. Lifting his hips up slightly you can feel that he’s already hard and definitely not small. You break the kiss to pull off your shirt and Gojo nearly rips off your bra before taking one of your hard nipples into his mouth while working the other between his fingers. “Ah… Gojo-”

“Satoru” he says breathing heavily and looking into your eyes. “Please call me Satoru.”

“Satoru… don’t tease.” you nearly whine.

“Fuck… i need to taste you.” Without missing a beat Gojo lays you down on the couch, making quick work of getting your jeans and panties off. “You’re so wet, this all for me?” his lips formed that cocky smirk. “Shut up and do something.” you say squirming. He grabs your hips to still you then lowers his head to taste your arousal. “You taste better than I could’ve imagined… so fucking sweet.” He goes straight into it, sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing your hole with his tongue like he’s starved. Your hands immediately find purchase in his hair. You tug slightly making Gojo moan which only adds to the knot that’s already forming in your stomach.

You try to lift your hips but he has you in an iron grip. Heavy pants and moans slip past your lips as you feel that familiar sensation or your orgasm. “Ah! Sa-satoru! Fuck i’m gonna cum!” he continues working his tongue on your clit as he inserts two of his long fingers inside of you, curling them to hit that spot that has you seeing stars. Gojo eagerly licks and sucks all that you’re offering as you slowly start to come down from your high. He kisses your thighs and slowly makes his way up to your face. “I could eat you out all day” he breathes out. “But right now I wanna be inside you.”

You watch as he takes off his pants, seeing the wet patch on his boxers from his precum. After removing the rest of his clothing he now rests in between your legs, stroking himself as he rubs his tip against your clit. You buck your hips trying to get more friction but Gojo won’t budge. “Tell me what you want.” he whispers aligning himself with your entrance. “Satoru just fuck me please!” You say impatiently. The only warning you have is Gojo saying “If you say so.” before sliding his cock in until he bottomed out.

He threw his head back with a groan. “Shiiiit baby you’re so fucking tight.” He gave you a moment to adjust then started fucking you at an almost inhuman pace. All you could do was moan not able to form anything coherent. You felt Gojo’s hand come to your neck and squeeze just enough to heighten the force of his thrust. “You take me so well… this slutty pussy just keeps sucking me in.” His free hand slipped down to rub harsh circles on your clit causing you to practically scream. “Satoru! Too much!”

“You can take it baby i’m almost there. I want you to cum for me.”

Gojo keeps up his unrelenting pace and overstimulates your clit. You can feel him throbbing inside of you as his thrusts start to stagger and get sloppy signaling he was close. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum… gonna cum all over those pretty tits.”

“Please Satoru! Feels so good… fucking cumming ah!” You feel a gush of warm liquid between your legs just as Gojo pulls out whimpering while spilling his cum all over your stomach. “F-fucking shit! Fuck baby…” you both lay there panting as Gojo gives you small feathery kisses. After a minute or two he gets up to grab a towel to clean you up with. He’s back in his boxers and had one of his shirts for you to wear. You blush taking it with a small “Thank you.”

Once you’ve sat up and slipped on the shirt you notice the wet spot staining the couch. “Shit… sorry about your couch Satoru. I’ll give you the money to replace it.”

Gojo laughs at your concern for his couch. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart.” He moves you both over to a the other side of the couch that isn’t ruined. “No really i’ll replace it, how much was it?” He mumbles something that you don’t understand. “What?”

“$3,600.”

You stare at him in shock. “Satoru what the hell!” He dismisses your shock with a wave of his hand and lays you both down. “I told you don’t worry about it. Right now just lay here with me.” Just as you both got comfortable and closed your eyes, your stomach growls loudly.

“I guess now would be a good time to get those sandwiches.” Gojo laughs.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[suguwu]

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. 

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Heyo! Got a question or two. (Or six-)

- Do you ship Mabifica? Or Dipcifica for that matter? I personally like the former more but I'm just imagining Bill's reaction to having to deal with the fact the girl who insulted Mabel is now dating her/her brother.

Actually, even if you ship neither, I just want his reaction the the Pine twins now being friends(?) With Paz.

Would he try to scare her off? Would he warm up to her?

(If you couldn't already tell, Pacifica is one of my favorite characters, just below Mabel.)

- Does Stan and Ford ever get as close as they did at the end of the show? I mean, Ford must be reeling, sure. But.. Do they ever get on that boat?

- Does Bill make an effort to reconcile with Ford? Even just a show of apology?

- And does Ford bond with the twins? Would he just see them as another thing Bill has tainted?

- Also. Are you planning to make fanfiction of this? Or a comic? Or any media that tells the story? It's now become an integral part of my life.

- Last one! What other bonding moments does Bill have with Wendy? We've got the bets, yeah. But is that all?

(I found your au an hour and a half ago, and I'm already this invested. That is absolutely amazing, considering I don't really latch on to things. (Thanks a lot, autism) I love the art, and I love the tidbits. If it ever gets too overwhelming, don't be afraid to take a breather!! ><)

Hello! I shall do my best to answer!

— I’m personally a Dipcifica enjoyer myself! I don’t see them getting together this summer, so it’s less of a dating thing, but Bill would be decent at recognising the signs of a crush forming thanks to Mabel exposure all summer. He’d be completely against it. He’s listing every reason why the Northwests suck to Dipper, all the times Pacifica has done something to make Mabel feel awful! He’s maybe a little dramatic about it, in true Bill fashion, and is taken aback when Mabel insists it’s okay.

Pacifica’s changing, they both say! Mabel fully intends to be Dipper’s wingman!

Bill finds that idea ridiculous. People don’t just change. Humans are known for staying the same once they’ve settled into their body — that’s just how it is.

Pacifica has proven to be the opposite of everything Bill has taught the twins, and so he sees the blooming friendship as a threat and doesn’t like it. It doesn’t help that it’s around the time his fear of changing is at an all time high, so he’s maybe projecting a little onto Pacifica.

He definitely tries to scare her off initially, and when that doesn’t work, he settles with threatening her should she ever make Mabel upset against. His threats are… very intense and it’s clear the issue runs deeper than just Pacifica. He really goes for her insecurities. Honestly, this may be one of his worst moments in front of the twins? Stan ends up having to intervene and try to figure out what’s going on in Bill’s head beyond just being protective over Mabel.

(Pacifica girl I am so sorry)

He doesn’t warm to her per se, not yet, as much as he learns to tolerate her sometimes being around. She does her best to avoid him anyhow.

— Still working out the exact details so I don’t have much to say right now, but yes, he does. A verbal apology from Bill is also kind of a big deal. Like Stan struggles saying Please, and Ford struggles saying thank you, Bill struggles saying sorry.

— Ford does bond with the twins! I think I mentioned in a post a bit ago that Dungeons Dungeons and more Dungeons is like a gateway for their relationship, and it helps Ford become more comfortable around them and vice versa. Though the general unease still lingers at times, Dipper starts to get comfortable asking him more and more questions about Gravity Falls, and Mabel knits him a few sweaters and tries to catch him up on all the pop culture he’s missed etc. Sometimes he snaps at them when he needs space, and he tends to hide behind Stan some days, but they do get to know this new Ford, and begin to get closer to him bit by bit before Summer ends.

I think he does see them as something Bill has tainted, but not in an irreversible way. If anything, it motivates him to try and get to know them more once the initial fear has settled, to try and re-instate himself as Ford Pines, and be their Great Uncle.

— I don’t plan on making a fic or a comic, mainly because I am busy right now and juggling a lot. It just isn’t something feasible for me and I notoriously don’t do well managing long projects. But, I am hoping to do art and maybe mini comics for it, once I defeat my art block and style crisis, perhaps some one-shots too if I can also defeat my eternal writers block. I’m honoured you think that way of it though!!

— They generally have a very positive relationship! Bill is seen as the cooler Stan by her friends, mainly because of the fact he doesn’t really act his age, and happily enables anything they want to do, and so whenever she needs something, she tends to go to him. (“No hard feelings Stan!”) And If Stan taught her how to shoplift, Bill probably taught her how to get away with murder, not that she’d really need that, the thought still counts. They also share similar music tastes, so when Bill’s around the shack, he’ll ask Wendy to blast some AC/DC while they work. He’s also taught her all the ways to get under Stan’s skin, because he knows for a fact she’ll use them.

I think this AU too, he’s the one who showed her the rooftop spot. He encouraged any form of rebelling against the system, even if that means slacking and getting Stan to shout at both of them.

Thank you so much!? That means a lot to hear and I hope you continue to enjoy it!! And I appreciate it, I’m trying to take it slow and answer whatever asks I can and when I can, to avoid getting overwhelmed.

[jaemified]

major, minor, and the things in between - nishimura riki

"are we friends, lovers, or whatevers in between?"

pairing ; nishimura riki x fem!reader

genre ; slice of life, enemies to lovers-ish (y/ns mean to riki smh), romance, drama, fluff, small angst, non idol au

warnings ; swearing, drinking, brief mention of blood (someone gets cut), mention of offing yourself but its just niki making a joke

wordcount ; 7.0k

synopsis ; though never quite well acquainted, sim y/n had always felt strongly against nishimura riki, until her brother jake had forced them to get along. but, what was meant to have them get closer turns into something a little more.

note (5/29) - there isnt rlly much mention of jake/nikis actual siblings but for one scene theirs like additional (baby) siblings

note (7/10) - its finally here!! im a little upset it took me 2 months to write 7k since i used to be able to write 4k in 8hrs but summer has been kicking my ass so im glad its out despite being 10 days past release date

taglist 🏷️ ; @stinkoscope @asyleums

read below the cut !

"'when im with you, i.. im so happy. i like you, na bora!' 'i like you. i like you too! i really really like you!'" y/n cried at her computer screen, rewatching 20th century girl for the 2nd time this week, before being so rudely interrupted by her brothers presence, bugging her with the same, repetitive question. the same question hes been asking for years on end now.

"the guys are coming over and of course you know niki is gonna be here as well. i want you to talk to him. why cant you just be friends?"

"id appreciate it a lot if youd leave, this is my space."

"i dont know if you noticed, but this is a small flat with not much room to move around. its not only you living here you know." jake reminded.

of course y/n knew there was limited space, she knew the moment she first realized she had already circled about the unit, trying to escape her brothers nagging.

"if you know theres not enough room for you and me then what makes you think theres room to accommodate an additional 6 other grown ass men. go to your room, im doing homework.'

'annoying..'

"you were literally just crying watching 20th century girl milliseconds before i walked in, and im not asking much y/n! all i want is for you to talk to him, even pretend like youre getting along, thats it!" jake remarked, before catching the pillow y/n attempted to throw at his face.

'so damn annoying.' y/n thought, growing more and more annoyed by her brothers constant nagging as each second passed.

"whats so hard about getting along with niki? hes a good kid!" jake complained. since his little sister couldnt get along with one of his best friends, it made even the intimate gatherings.. unpleasantly awkward.

"hes annoying, like you are being right now."

"no, why do you really hate him so much."

"i dont know! he just reminds me of someone i guess? and he always cheated on projects back in middle school. even stole my ideas so he could make it look like im in the wrong."

"thats it? youre holding a grudge over him just being a middle school kid from, what, 5 years ago? cmon, theres gotta be something better then that. not to mention even if there wasnt, that makes you sound hella dumb holding a grudge from the 7th grade when youre graduating next year."

y/n thought to herself. of course there was another reason, but it seemed unnecessary to bring up. and she also just didnt want to share it with jake. or maybe, it wasnt the right reason after all.

"well hes cocky as hell and is still a better dancer, basketball player, volleyball player then i, not to mention ive been playing longer and layla likes him more then she likes me!"

"thats your fault youre never home, laylas just more used to him. and me. i am clearly her favorite between you and i."

"more like his fault hes practically living in my apartment cause hes never at his own home. and how can she be more used to him when ive known her since way before she met riki.."

"tough luck." jake pat y/n on the head on his way out before shutting the door.

__________________________________________

the sound of the doorbell awoke y/n from her, well, what was meant to be a quick nap (which later turned into a 4 hour sleep). just as she slowly got out of bed to answer it, she heard jake yell from down the hall, "ive got it! make sure you dont look stupid or anything in front of my friends!"

she rolled her eyes and climbed back into bed, thinking about her outfit. standard pajamas, plaid shorts and a black tee (which probably wasnt even hers). she thought about how the one person out of the 6 she didnt want to see would be out there. truth be told, even she herself didnt know the best explanation as to why she hated riki so much. y/n figured it was because of a little mishap back during freshmen year and she just couldnt bring herself to apologize for everything that had been said during that time, so she forced herself to continue hating him. 'yeah, seems about right.'

the sound of the door opening caught her attention and the next thing she knew, there was a boy in a cream essentials hoodie jumping onto her.

"oh shit, what the f-"

"hi y/nnn!" sunoo smiled, carefully getting off his best friend.

y/n was in joy once she realized who it was, and brought him into a tight hug.

"hey sunoo! god it feels like forever since i last saw you!"

it was really only a week.

"i know right! its been too long!"

she smiled, no matter what mood she was in, sunoo always was the sunshine in the rain.

"so, whos here?"

"oh, you know the usual. sunghoon, heeseung, jake, and jay hyung. niki and jungwon are supposed to be setting up something in the courtyard."

"setting up what?"

"a volleyball net. jake was on nikis ass all week and wanted him to 1v1 you while we all played basketball. jungwon just wanted to help however he could, hes been tired all week from his job and the dance program."

no fucking way.

"youre saying i have to be alone, with nishimura riki? hell no!"

"isnt it great?" "this is a disaster!" they both exclaimed in unison.

"how is that bad?" "how is this good?!"

sunoo signaled for y/n to continue first. "i just cant stand riki. jakes been on my ass to talk to him but i didnt think hed actually talk to him, or that hed even listen either."

"seriously? i always thought you had a thing for him. i mean, you look good together, you both share mainly the same interests, mainly the same circle, not to mention the undeniable love you have when your eyes meet-"

"okay thats enough! you know what, how bout we go outside, im hungry anyway."

sunoo shrugged and went along with y/n down the hall.

he was slightly surprised when he saw niki and jungwon sitting on the couch, having a sip of their drinks.

"back already? i thought you were setting up the nets."

"yeah, but it was easier then expected. and we didnt even need to go to the lobby for the stuff. it was all already in the courtyard." jungwon told the two with a smile, proud of their work.

"y/n." niki looked at her with that stupid grin she had always hated.

"nishimura."

"i didnt know youd be here." he observed, ignoring how she had addressed him by his last name instead of niki, or riki.

she scoffed, crossing her arms.

"i live here dipshit. you think id run away just cause i knew you were coming?"

niki got up from his seat and walked closer, and closer, until their faces were mere centimeters away.

"just like you ran from all our problems in freshmen year huh?"

"you realize it was all because of what you did, dont you?"

it took niki a minute to notice how close they were. he looked down at her lips before realizing what sunoo and jungwon were saying in the background. "are they about to kiss?"

"hell no!" y/n and niki both yelled out in unison, quickly pushing away from each other.

"whatever. i need to use the bathroom, i cant stand seeing your face." she remarked to niki.

as soon as y/n closed the bathroom door, she let out a breath she never knew she was holding in, slowly trying to register what had just happened. 'did i really almost kiss him.'

minutes after being stuck in the bathroom for so long, she left and walked into the main living space, only to notice everyone was gone.

well, almost everyone.

"are you serious."

y/n dryly stared at the boy sitting on her couch, in her spot, watching her favorite show.

"i forgot you were still here." niki yawned.

"where is everyone?"

"did you seriously not hear them say theyre gonna get food and that theyll be back in.. three hours or more?"

"three hours or more? it does not take that long to get food, youre fucking with me." y/n walked into hers and jakes individual bedrooms to see if anyone was hiding from her, to her dismay, niki wasnt lying.

"it does if youre getting food from busan."

"why the fuck are they going all the way to busan for food??"

"language! my young ears cant take this!"

"shut up nishimura youre only 11 days younger."

"more like 11 years at heart cause you act like a grumpy old lady all the time.."

"whatd you just call me?"

"nothing!"

"so why are they going all the way to busan for food again?" y/n reminded, getting niki back on track.

"cause they got a friend whos house is down there and hes in town for the weekend, they said theyll bring us home our own order."

y/n walked into the kitchen, rummaging for food.

"what are you doing now?"

"looking for food, im gonna die if i see your ugly ass face any longer."

"what are you on about 'ugly'? girls at school love this face."

"and apparently you loved those girls too much in return.."

niki got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen bar, sitting down. "are you still mad at me about that?"

she stopped what she was doing and looked at niki, not saying anything, hoping it was enough of an answer.

"so you are." 'so he isnt all that dumb'

"look, i didnt know she had bad intentions, and you were right, i shouldve listened to you. but you really have to stop avoiding me. how was i supposed to tell you i didnt realize what she was trying to do if you keep running away?"

"how do you not realize no matter how many times i warned you?"

"i thought you did it because you were jealous."

"i did it because i loved you!"

niki froze, thinking he was crazy, thinking maybe he hadnt heard right.

"you what?"

"past tense. loved, not love. and how could you think so badly of me? we were supposed to trust each other, always tell the truth, and you thought i told you she would end up using you was because you thought i was jealous? how could you?"

he sighed, thinking about what he had done, realizing how badly he had mistreated y/n in the past, realizing there was no reversing it. he walked into the kitchen where y/n was, backing her into the corner as the kitchen was just as small as the apartment itself.

"get away from me!" she yelled, throwing ramen packet after ramen packet at niki.

"no. i know i havent been the best to you-" "more like you know youve been the worst."

niki glared at y/n.

"-and i know theres no reversing it. i realize i cant undo the past, but what i can do, is fix our future. i want to show you i can be better to you then i was then. we can be what we used to be before, us. our spark."

"there is no us, or we, or, our. but maybe just you, caught up in your daydreams." y/n pushed niki out the way, and walked out the kitchen, not noticing she was slowly being followed.

"i loved you too you know. except for the fact that i still do."

"can you just please leave." she turned around, now facing him.

her vision blurred, head dizzy, face stained, all as her glass like tears trickled down her cheeks.

"hey, its okay. dont cry."

"get away from me!"

niki attempted to hug y/n as she fought against him, trying to run from his grasp, struggling to no avail. she eventually fell still in his hold, forgetting its natural warmth and comfort.

"im sorry for everything." was the last thing y/n heard before falling asleep, growing tired and stressed from everything that had just happened.

__________________________________________

it was late at night by the time everyone else had come back, 2am to be exact. traffic was unusually heavy though it was a saturday night, not to mention the designated driver and his understudy (heeseung and sunghoon. yikes, scary night) ended up being the most wasted while everyone else was still tipsy. poor jungwon, still tired from a 4 hour nap after being on 2 hours of sleep all day, had to drive everyone through the slow traffic.

jake, who was slightly sobering up, turned on the lights in the dark room and dimmed them as his head was still throbbing. he walked into the living room and saw y/n, fast asleep with her head on nikis shoulder with his arm around her as he finished the rest of avengers endgame.

jake knew his sister well enough to know she had been crying once he focused on her puffy red eyes. but, it was a sweet moment, y/n was passed out, niki was barely conscious, and everyone was painfully drunk or achey. he figured he would just yell at riki for whatever happened in the morning.

sunghoon and heeseung ran into the kitchen (as best they could without tipping over) for water, jungwon had knocked out as soon as he sat down in the chair next to y/n, jay was busy trying to figure out how to use jakes water filter, and sunoo was sitting at the kitchen bar eating a pudding cup.

jay called for jakes help, just as his eyes had fluttered shut. begrudgingly so, jake got up and helped the three boys it the kitchen. "you press the bottom button, not the top button. the top is for ice."

"thanks." "yeah whatever."

"i know youre tired hyung, but so are we. where are we all supposed to sleep?" sunoo quietly asked, putting his hand on jakes shoulder.

he thought, looking at the three sprawled out in the living room, and the three bubbling nonsense in the kitchen. "jay and sunghoon can stay with me, ill move niki and y/n to her room, you can stay in the living room with jungwon and heeseung hyung. but move jungwon to the couch since he drove everyone."

"thanks-" sunoo cut himself off as he heard the sound of jakes receding footsteps.

__________________________________________

morning came, and though it wasnt a good one, y/n wanted to remedy that. or, remedy the nasty hangover she knew everyone would be experiencing.

she had woken up with her eyes puffy and red, and even though she didnt want to get up she knew she would have to eventually.

"is that hangover soup i smell?" jake asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes as he walked out his room.

"well i know riki doesnt know how to cook and jungwons still asleep. so who else would be making it?" y/n flashed a tired smile, pouring a serving for jake.

"so, why were you crying last night? and dont say you werent or that you just didnt sleep well. ive lived with you long enough now to tell the difference between your 'i didnt get enough sleep' eyes, and your 'i was crying pretty hard' eyes." he interrogated as he took a big sip of the soup. so good he almost felt better already.

"what did he tell you? or were you watching me?"

"he didnt tell me anything, he was already asleep by the time we came back. i just saw the look on your face and knew."

"just reminiscing on some bad times is all."

jake raised a brow at his sister, taking another sip.

"you dont have to tell me now if you dont want to. but i do want to hear about everything. later. when my head isnt pounding like when i heard mom push you out in the emergency room. after i take a nap. and when youve bought jungwon some coffee."

"me? why do i have to buy him coffee? im not the one who drove him because the designated drivers were too wasted."

"we typically treat him to an iced americano since hes always up taking care of us when were drunk, but we havent gotten this wasted in a while. and he spent so long getting sunghoon out the house, not to mention the long drive to the point he ended up falling asleep as soon as we got back."

y/n thought about it before mumbling a, "tough luck" to jake, patting him on the back before walking into her bedroom.

she was met with the sight of niki making the bed as she walked in. "when did you wake up?" she quietly asked.

"not too long ago, you?"

"about an hour ago. i had to cook for them."

"ah. did you sleep well? i know sleeping upright on the couch mustve been a lot less comfortable then this."

"i guess. i dont remember waking up to walk here though. jake probably carried me."

"he was way wasted, snoring loudly way before i woke up. how else do you think you got here?"

it took a minute for it to click in y/ns mind when she realized it was niki who took her to the room and slept next to her. this whole time, she thought it was her brother who lent his own room to his friends.

"of course not, he just asked me to help or make sure you got to bed safely and that i could stay with you since there was nowhere else."

'that bastard.. ill kill him one of these days. im surprised i havent already.' she spoke to herself in her head.

"so. are we good now?" niki questioned, walking over to the other side of the room.

"how can you ask me such a thing after making me relive one of the worst memories of high school ive ever had?"

"it wasnt my intention. i was just trying to explain-" "theres nothing to explain when i had already given you multiple warnings. thats on you."

y/n threw a pillow at niki and walked away, back outside.

"what was that all about?" sunghoon asked, taking a sip of the coffee he had just made. 'where did he get silk pajamas from. are- are those mine?'

"what?"

"not to bother, but i mean, you were kind of yelling." heeseung explained to y/n.

she let out a sigh, rubbing her forehead in stress.

"i dont want to talk about it right now. i- actually. you know what? ill be back."

"where are you going?" sunoo asked y/n, following her to her room just as niki walked out.

"somewhere, not sure yet. dont follow me."

"i wont, i know how much you value your alone time but- oh youre changing. hold on ill turn around. but please be safe. when will you be back?"

sunoo turned back around and saw she had changed into beige cargos and a white crop top. realizing he was staring, he looked around the room, before a certain picture caught his eyes. he walked closer to get a better look. it was baby jake feeding yogurt to baby y/n. 'awe, they were always close werent they.' he hadnt even realized y/n was talking to him, and by the time he faced where y/n was standing, she had already left out the front door.

y/n🤨; srry, u were so immersed in that picture of jake and i as kids, but i rlly wanted to leave. i cant handle being around niki. see u l8r

sunoo😴 ; no worries, have fun, stay safe, and dont take any candy from strangers lol

__________________________________________

y/n drives to her favorite cafe she always used to visit with her brother, mama han's. she sits down at the bar and scrolls deep into her camera roll, coming across some mundane memories of her and riki back when they were close.

"what can i get you, hun?" the waitress, jiwoo, asked with a small grin. she didnt look to be any younger than 40 something now, compared to the last time she visited the spot. jiwoo was always the waitress here, even served the two frequently in their childhood when they visited from australia.

"just a vanilla shake is all. extra whip please."

"sweetie, arent you lactose? it must be pretty bad if you want extra dairy."

"yeah, it is. but, im not comfortable talking about it at the moment if thats alright."

"of course it is. just hope youre doing okay." jiwoo pat y/n on the shoulder, before reaching down to get the ingredients.

"hows your brother? havent seen either one of you in a while."

"hes well, a little hungover, but hes fine."

jiwoo laughed as she poured milk into the blender. "of course. what more to expect from your brother. well, how are you? i realized i didnt really ask."

"im alright. and, do you remember niki?"

"little niki from when you were kids? the one you used to like- oh dear, dont tell me hes the reason as to why youre so down?"

"long story, but yeah. its fine though, ill deal with it. but what about you, whats going on? did you ever pursue your dream as an actress?"

"no, and i regret not going for it. i didnt get to be in stairway to heaven, but shinhye and taehee did though. which is why you need to go for what you want, otherwise you really will regret it." jiwoo advised, adding the cherry on top of the extra whip prior to sliding the glass over to y/n.

"so i should forgive him?"

"if its what you want. though i dont know the backstory, i do know that as long as its something you want then its worth a shot. the worst he can say is no, you know?"

"yeah.. oh and jiwoo, can i get a chocolate shake to go?"

"no problem, just give me 4 minutes. and- oh dont worry about it, put your card away! its on the house."

___________________________________________

y/n heard her phone buzz in the center console as she pulled into an empty parking lot. she turned the engine off the car and pulled out her phone.

sim jaeyun ; Can you come home

Y/n Sim ; can u stop using caps

sim jaeyun ; I don't think it matters but okay

sim jaeyun ; can you stop disappearing whenever you're mad at someone

Y/n Sim ; can you change my name so its not in caps

sim jaeyun ; can you stop changing the topic and just drive back because niki wants to talk to you and i was getting worried

Y/n Sim ; can u change my name

'sim jaeyun' has changed your display name to 'y/n sim'

y/n sim ; i bought u a shake from jiwoos

sim jaeyun ; no you didn't she probably got it to you for free

y/n sim ; cz im her fav sim

sim jaeyun ; im going to tell all the guys about how you pissed yourself at disneyland on splash mountain

y/n sim ; driving home rn

sim jaeyun ; no texting while driving love u

y/n sim ; lyt

she let out a small laugh at her brothers texts. she quickly got out the car, taking some pictures of the sunset for her instagram, and posting it, before driving out as the milkshake was beginning to melt.

niki got the alert y/n had posted and pressed the notification at the top of his screen. he didnt miss how the caption referenced wave to earth as it was always their favorite band to listen to together.

@/05sim_y/nn ; how can my day be bad when im with u? - [9m ago]

liked by @/02sim_ikeuu, @/suniskim, and 99 others - 20 comments

@/rikimura has liked this post ! [now]

___________________________________________

after getting back home and taking a relaxing shower (thanks to everyone leaving 2 hours prior), y/n had continued to keep herself up at night for the past week before deciding it was time to talk to riki.

she pushed her feelings aside, waking up on a random wednesday morning at the crack of dawn then randomly told herself 'ive got to do this, for my brothers sake and our friend group.' (or so she unconvincingly tried to convince herself, but thats already another thing she didnt want to get into at the moment) y/n quickly threw on whatever clothes she could gather laying about the floor, then ran to grab her car keys and hurry out the door.

as soon as she swung the big piece of metal open, she was met with the familiar sight of nishimura riki knowing when hes done wrong, his guilty face, with his hand raised and ready to knock.

"what are you doing here at the ass crack of dawn?"

"what are you doing ready to run out your apartment like its the olympics as the ass crack of dawn?" he responded to her question with a question, with the intent of knowing how much she hated it.

"actually, i was about to leave to see you. i think its time we had a talk. you know, after my.. moment, that i had last week."

"yeah. i know. its not your fault i realize now, or, im telling you that but ive realized it since the moment i lost you. i think-"

niki was interrupted by jake shouting from across the flat, "if youre gonna finally have this talk i think you should go somewhere else! can you leave soon? 'cause my girlfriends gonna come over at like 12!"

"i seriously doubt any place is open for us to be going to at 5:41 in the morning." y/n yelled in response.

"you know well mama han's is open now, and jiwoo works day and night, just go there so i can be alone!" "for 7 hours?"

niki laughed in response as he registered what jake and y/n were arguing over.

"what girlfriend?-" "-talking stage, technically, but he says theyre dating because she accidentally kissed his cheek on their first date when reaching to grab something near him."

"i remember her lips on my skin like it was yesterday, meanwhile you have yet to kiss niki." jake scoffed in english, the words flowing smoothly off his tongue with his accent before walking closer towards where y/n was standing.

"gross. if anything her accidentally very barely brushing her lips against your stupid face is the only action youll ever be getting if you keep trying to get rid of your one and only favorite little sister." y/n muttered in response, slightly ignoring niki muttering about how he thinks y/ns accent sounds cute.

"really?"

-

and so y/n found herself driving to mama han's cafe with niki after jake called their eldest brother, complaining she should listen to him because shes younger and if she wouldnt listen to jake himself then maybe she would listen to her older-older brother.

"you should listen to your older siblings but jake, if you had someone coming over you shouldve told her in advance. and what are you even gonna do alone for 6 hours??"

after being seated and placing their orders, niki brought back the conversation from earlier that had sort of been killed by jake.

"i get it, youre mad at me, and i shouldve listened to you. i know i fucked up and i know you see it too. i get it if you dont want to forgive me yet, or if you ever even will. but when you decide we could be good, im always here for you."

"why would i be here if i hadnt been prepared to forgive you?"

"huh?"

"i seriously question how dense you are sometimes."

"thanks for believing in me."

"no problem, but seriously. i forgive you. as much as i hate to admit it since i know youll use it against me, but i kinda missed having you around. i mean, you were my first love among other things but you were also one of my first and closest friends. it wont always be the same but im sure if we try enough we can get pretty damn close."

"god have you always been so philosophical?"

the two burst into laughter together, smiling as they took a sip of their milkshakes, reminiscing on the times they had spent together in their earlier high school years. it was moments like these that they has missed the most.

by far the most fun together (said niki), by far the most fun theyve had in a while (said y/n) after having spent the morning together, discussing and going over whats happened in the past few hours before going to pay. "ive got it," niki said, pulling out his card. "its the least i can do."

"thank you for today. i know i was hard on you but i needed this."

"no worries, i think ive owed you for a long time now right?"

"i need to do something in here real quick. you mind waiting in the car?"

"wait are you gonna be okay? i dont wanna leave you here alone."

"im a regular here, i know the people. its fine."

"are you sure?"

"if you go ill let you have the aux."

thats all it took for niki to run straight for the car, rushing to open the door.

y/n laughed as she saw him waving from the passengers seat, before going to talk to jiwoo who was busy wiping down the counters. she took a seat at the bar and felt comfort as jiwoo flashed the same smile she always would throughout y/ns childhood.

"thats a hell of a boy youve got there. special one isnt he?"

"you could say that in the very least. hes definitely special to me though."

"thats the boy you were tellin my sister about? he aint from round here, that right?" an distinct, familiar, voice spoke from the back kitchen.

"auntie jiwon?" y/n questioned in shock.

jiwon is jiwoos sister, she also used to work at the cafe just as much as jiwoo did. had been a favoritre of the customers including the sims themselves before moving to the countryside, only popping up on occasion. jake would call jiwon auntie since she was older and it had also grown on y/n.

"thats my name isnt it?" she chuckled as y/n ran up to hug her.

"wow, i cant believe it. i havent seen you in like, 7 years!"

"been a long time right? well, im just down here for a short while before i gotta go back. just here for a weddin and thought to visit my sister at work."

"thats great auntie, too bad you arent here for longer."

"yeah, well. thats what happens when you get 3 divorces and run out of money, that right jiwoo? but, seriously, whats with that boy of yours? he dont seem to be from here."

"hes not, hes from japan, for the dance academy we all go to."

"that explains a bunch. i always knew youd be a dance. you have quite the physique for it, no?"

jiwoo interrupted jiwon from rambling on the way she always would, quickly seeing y/ns desire to leave as she has other things to tend to.

"alright well, im sure y/n has plenty of things to do as do we, so we all really should be going. its about time for the regulars to start coming in." jiwoo awkwardly laughed as she too seemingly forgot her sisters idiosyncratic personality.

"you dont want to spend time with your auntie jiwon is it? kids nowadays have no sort of respect for their elders. you could drive a preacher to drink!"

y/n awkwardly cleared her throat and put on a smile, frozen in a sort of way as auntie jiwon hadnt seemed to be the same as she was 8 years ago.

"oh im only joking now! go on then, ill just see you in another 8 years." she sighed, overexaggerating the moment.

"its not like youre her real aunt anyway." jiwoo muttered, yet jiwon heard it.

"like your supposed to be? what are you to her anyway?"

"someone whos around of course! i practically raised her and babysitted her on top of running a restaurant with my own children whenever her parents would be in office from dusk till dawn with her brother busy at school with his own life."

"i was there too you know! she would tell me things she never told you."

"she only told you things because you made her! she was scared of you!" jiwoo rolled her eyes at jiwon before quickly gesturing for y/n to go.

"what are you doing- where is she going?" "somewhere where youre not."

-

as y/n go back into the car, she slightly scared niki in the middle of a game.

"what happened in there? looked kinda tense. never seen the other lady before."

"jiwoos sister. shes kinda crazy and possessive and scary. didnt even know she came back."

"maybe we should go.. shes kinda walking towards the car so i suggest to step on the gas."

"shit- shes what??"

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

within the next few months, niki and y/n drew closer to one another like they were before.

it was only a matter of time before their unresolved feelings for one another began to surface, yet they continued to push it down with all their might, not wanting to ruin anything like before.

so here y/n was, watching some random kdrama out of boredom, completely uninterested before she received a text from niki.

nishimura ; help

sim ; with what

nishimura ; baysitinf

sim ; the fuck

nishimura ; hold - my brother just took my phone

sim ; babysitting?

nishimura ; yes pls

nishimura ; jake literally js dropped off ur sister here while my brother was having a hyper thingy

nishimura ; hes just very hyper

nishimura ; send a swat team.

sim ; i dont rlly wanna watch sarang tho😐

nishimura ; BUT ITS UR SISTER??

sim ; yea but she’s a headache i have to deal with that like every weekend

sim ; i gave her to jake so i can have a free day just for her to bounce back to me😒 sim ; i hate guys named jake

nishimura ; thats what u get for abandoning a 5 year old

sim ; then im not helping

nishimura ; that lego set i bought you arrived today

sim ; see u in 20

and so here y/n found herself driving towards nikis apartment, reminding herself to lecture her brother once they both get home.

“good thing you came otherwise i mightve actually killed myself.”

“this better be good, i dropped crash landing on you for this.”

with that, niki stepped aside to point at the kids behind him without breaking eye contact with y/n, not wanting to look inside only to furrow his brows as she tilted her head in confusion.

“is this a joke?” she scoffed.

“what are you talking about?” his jaw dropped once he saw sarang and hiro getting along together just fine, completing some puzzle together. “i swear they werent getting along and hiro was just bouncing off the walls, plus sarang was like having a meltdown about ice cream!”

y/n slightly grinned then spoke, “you look fine. they look more then fine. you don’t need my help. did you just want an excuse to see me?”

“no! i- i mean i kinda wanted to see you but that’s not why- i, ughh!”

y/n held back a small laugh at nikis frustration before she heard the two kids watching them giggle adoringly at their older siblings.

“riki has a girlfriend!” “y/n has a boyfriend!” hiro and sarang exclaimed in excitement.

“im going home.”

“absolutely not.” y/n groaned in annoyance while niki pulled her into the house by grabbing onto her shoulder.

“so.” he awkwardly started, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with the palm of his hand.

“so??”

“about yesterday.”

“what about it.”

“we’re good right?”

“of course we are.” she reassured.

just as niki was able to reply, sarang began to cry loudly, like she saw a monster in her closet or something.

“what happened?”

“i cut myself!” she cried, showing the skin between her fingers. her and hiro had been doing small arts and crafts for the past hour, so she has hurt herself with the scissors.

“just put a bandaid on and ice it.” y/n rolled her eyes, shaking her head while not even bothering to look up from her phone.

“you’re so mean y/n unnie!” sarang pouted before holding her ‘injured’ hand up to nikis face.

“what is this, the school nurse? you gotta be a more helpful sister then that.”

“i am helpful. i asked her what happened then gave her a solution.”

“but you were so mean to her.”

“im teaching her to be tough! our parents were hard on me and my brothers, so we have to be hard on her.”

“but you aren’t your parents. you’re y/n.”

“but what if i don’t want to be just y/n?”

“well, then that’s not something you can control. you’re you whether you like it or not. you gotta learn to accept life as it is. that’s what really being hard on yourself is, and that’s what it does to you.”

niki goes over to sarang to pick her up and carry her over to the kitchen. he sets her on the counter and grabs a pastel flower print bandaid before placing a small kiss onto where he placed the bandaid.

he coos at her lovingly, with him who’d always seen her as his own sister having had watching her grow up since she was born despite her not really remembering much of him.

y/n felt her heart melt as she saw how good he was with her baby sister.

she got up from her seat to go over where they were, wrapping her arms around nikis waist to envelop him with into a warm back hug, pressing her head into the space between his shoulder and neck, letting it rest there.

“mean unnie.” sarang stuck out her tongue at y/n, pushing her face away from niki as she stuck out her tongue back.

“what are you, 5?”

“no but she is.”

niki sighed before pulling away (he really didnt want to but you didnt need to know that) grabbing his car keys, and picking up his brother.

“let’s go for some ice cream.”

so here you were, sitting at the local ice cream parlor together.

niki’s face turned as he watched you absolutely devour those three scoops (scoups) of mint chip.

“i seriously dont see how you could eat that. it tastes like toothpaste.”

“why are you talking when you’re eating plain vanilla.”

“hey, sometimes basic is better!”

“well you don’t have to like mint then. ‘cause me and this kid do!” she jokingly replied, hugging said kid (hiro) while niki and sarang rolled their eyes with their vanilla cones.

“hate to be a bother, but you guys are such a cute little family. youre just like me with my kids when they were still young. and, little girl, you really have your fathers eyes.” an elder women from a table across the parlor smiled, patting y/n and niki on the shoulder as she ignored her husbands remarks “stop disturbing the little couple!”

“do we really look like a family?”

“sort of, if you really think about it.”

“okay but she had to be lying because your eyes look nothing like sarangs.”

“i mean.. if you look closely enough.”

“you aren’t even korean!”

they laughed together, for the first time in a while.

“okay, but on a serious note. what are we? are we friends, lovers, or whatever’s in between?”

“i mean.. I guess for now, in between.”

“please date y/n unnie! shes sooo lonely and boring.” sarang interrupted, tugging on nikis sleeve.

“yeah! and i want more playdates with sarang!” hiro pouted, looking up with puppy eyes at y/n.

niki laughed at the kids’ reactions, before taking y/ns hand into his.

“well, no matter what you decide, let’s see where this takes us. they seem to be up for it anyway.”

“you’re right. alright, fine. but if you fuck this up again, you realize you’re not getting another chance, right?”

“i promise i won’t hurt you again. it already cost me everything last time.”

“glad you’re aware.” she bitterly mumbled.

“so. you will date me then?”

“ill think about it.”

[fallinnflower]

the secret prince's cinderella

huening kai x fem!reader (fluff, royalty!au, historical fantasy!au)

wc: 6k

a/n: hi everyone! so a month or so ago i had a dream i was directing a movie that follows (generally) the plot of this fic. during the aftermath of hurricane helene i had no power or internet or cell service and ended up writing the whole thing in basically two sittings. the bigger projects i have been mentioning for years now are still in the works, including vampire!Bambam, vampire!DPR Ian, part two of dragon/river god!wonpil, etc... these are all monster-sized works that i really am just grinding slowly at amidst my day-to-day life. thanks for your patience and i hope you enjoy this extremely fluffy fic!

When you first meet Kai you think he's just a strange, sort of awkward kid. He wanders into the town square one day and finds where all the kids are kicking around a ball one of the other kids' moms made for all of you to play with, and just kind of… stands there. You can tell he wants in, and as the eldest of the group (by thirteen whole days!) you decide to let him join. Nobody questions your decision — Kai evens out the teams for boys against girls for your games. 

Even if you weren't the eldest in your group, you're sure you could've pulled strings to let Kai in if you'd had to, but you probably wouldn't have had to anyways. With his ethereally good looks, the other kids were already captivated by him. It didn't matter that he was awkward, he was pretty. You knew how powerful that could be, given that your mom was the prettiest lady in town. 

So, your friendship with Kai began like that. Teaching him how to properly kick a ball so that he didn't hurt his foot; showing him the berry patches that were safe to pick from on the outskirts of the farms and forests; scouring the creeks to find the perfect stones to skip. It was idyllic, sitting in the meadow in the shadow of the big, tall castle on the hill where you all pondered what might be going on so far out of your reach. 

You never even imagined what it might become in the future — what fate you had started spinning as you kicked that homemade ball over to him and made the circle of kids part to make him a space. 

It’s going to be a sweltering summer, your mother had told you that morning, as you carefully braided her hair. Your mother has beautiful hair, a strawberry blond that almost glows pink in the sunlight and fair skin without a blemish. How she manages to be so pretty, you’ll never know — you inherited her eyes but not much else, though you like to think you have some of her charisma, too. 

Your mother had also told you to be careful, and to not be home late, planting kisses on both of your cheeks and your forehead before making her way to work. You once heard that she could've become some lord's lover in the past, but she came here with your father instead. She works as a seamstress for the palace, setting off early every morning before the sun rises to make her way up the hill. Your father works in the blacksmith's shop. You’re almost old enough to work, but, for now, do odd jobs with the other kids and help keep the little garden in your backyard alive. 

Alongside Kai, of course. He had been completely clueless about plants before you showed him the garden, and then he became obsessed. You know it’s only a matter of time before he comes knocking at your door to go stare at the sprouts, wondering each day at any little change in them. 

Just as you finish braiding your own hair, there comes a familiar, rhythmic knock at your door. You don't even have to look to know it's Kai, so you pull it open without a second thought. 

"How are the potatoes?" he asks, cheeks flushed. 

"The same as yesterday. Did you run here?"

"Of course," he replies, walking purposefully through your house and right out the back door. "I'm sure it had another sprout growing yesterday, so it probably has leaves today."

"Kai," you sigh, trailing behind him. No matter how often you tell him that plants don't grow quite that fast, he never stops being so excitable. You decide to just let him go look at them like you always do. It's kind of cute, anyways — a thought you try to push aside. Kai is your friend first and foremost, and the fact that his teenage years had only added to his incredible beauty shouldn't — wouldn’t — change that. 

Also, you know next to nothing about him, really. He keeps where he lives a secret and never talks about his family outside of vague statements about their personalities. What you know about Kai is what he's willing to share, meanwhile he knows almost everything about you and your life in this village. You don’t take it personally; his friendship means too much to you for you to go breaking it by prying too much. 

"It looks like the tomatoes are wilting," he laments, his voice breaking you out of your thoughts. 

"Really?" You go squat beside him among the little rows and look at the leaves he's gently cradling in one hand. They still look green to you, just fine, but Kai’s brow is still creased with deep concern. You chuckle softly.

"I think they're okay, Kai," you reassure him, patting his shoulder. It strikes you just how broad his shoulders are, and you push the thought away.

"You worry about the plants like you're their overbearing mother," you tease, nudging him with your elbow. He sways, letting go of the tomato plant and using one hand to prop himself up so he doesn't fall. Something falls out of his pocket with a dull thud into the dirt, and you snatch it up before he can. 

It's a rock, an almost perfectly round gray one with a little face drawn on it with charcoal from a fire. The face has been redrawn multiple times, but always the same little smile. You can't help but laugh,

"You still have this?" Kai's cheeks turn faintly pink as he reaches out to take the rock from you. You hand it back to him, although you don’t really get why he holds it so gingerly.

"It's special," he replies, a little sullen. 

"It's a rock," you state. For the life of you, you can't understand why he's so sentimental over rocks and vegetables in the garden, but makes no fuss over the fancy fabric scraps or broken bits of jewelry your mom gets to bring home sometimes. You find those much more fascinating, especially the fabric, as your mother explains how much time each embroidered design takes. 

"It's not just any rock," he retorts, now indignant as he cradles the rock in his palm. He holds it up to your face as though to prove a point. "We found this when you were teaching me how to skip stones!"

You blink in confusion, looking between him and the rock. 

"Kai, that rock wouldn't skip even once. It's too heavy. You just liked how it looked!"

You still remember that day vividly yourself. The whole little group had gone down to the creek to practice skipping stones. Your grandmother had been very good at it before she passed away, and taught you how to do it on the days when she watched over you while your parents worked. Teaching other kids wasn't nearly as easy — Kai was the only one truly paying attention to what you said, his eyes earnestly fixed on you as you demonstrated how to find a good rock for skipping and how exactly to flick your wrist when throwing. That rock he now held was one you had picked up to demonstrate a bad skipping stone, but Kai had gone running into the water to retrieve it just after it landed. 

"Look how perfect it is!" he had exclaimed, making his way back to the shore with the stone triumphantly held up in his hands. Some of the other kids had conceded his point, and even you could acknowledge that it was a surprisingly round, symmetrical rock — though hardly worth his pants getting soaking wet over.

Still, to keep it all these years and draw its face back on every time it rubbed off…

You almost say something about it being weird, but the fondness on his face as he looks at the rock reminds you of the ratty rabbit doll you repair every time she has a rip or tear. She barely looks like she did when your mom first made her from fabric scraps, but she's too sentimental for you to let fall apart. If Kai's rock is weird, then your bunny would be just the same. 

"Didn't you name it?" you ask instead, a vague memory attempting to rise in your mind. 

"Yeah, it's Huenin Lionel Mbappe!" he replies proudly. He starts to say something else, but the chiming of the bell at the town square interrupts him. He quickly shoves Huenin Lionel Mbappe back into his pocket and stands up, offering you a hand. You don't need it, but you take it, surprised as always at how smooth his hands are. There are some calluses, but not nearly as many as your father and some of the other working men and boys in the village. Once again you wonder what he does when he's not with you, but you don't dwell on it, pretending you don't notice that he's still holding your hand as you run to the square together to meet up with the others. 

You're just glad he can't see how flustered you are as he squeezes your palm, pulling you along. 

Working with the other teens in the village often entails doing small tasks the apprentices and owners of different businesses don't have time to. Running deliveries, cleaning up a mess — little jobs for meager amounts of money. Being the eldest, you're the closest to picking a trade, but you think you'll likely just be like your mom. You already know how to sew pretty well from being taught by her, and you do odd mending jobs for other villagers in a pinch. The other kids you run with have been trying to forge connections at the businesses you help, testing the waters for a potential apprenticeship. 

Not Kai, though. While he seems interested in almost everything, he doesn't put himself forward as a hirable option for anyone. He also rarely takes a share of the earnings — you'd learned years earlier that he would secretly pass it all off in small bits to each of you, making different excuses each time until he had none left. You don't ask why and you don't tell him or the others you've caught on. Like your own potentially blossoming feelings, it feels like the mention of it could ruin what you and Kai have now, and you value that too much to jeopardize it. 

"Y/N, your dad said a couple of us should get more water for the blacksmiths from the river," one of the boys says as you and Kai approach. You brush flyaway strands of hair away from your face, quickly slipping your hand out of Kai’s grasp before the others notice.

"Okay, I think some of the ladies in the market have errands for us too. Should we split up for now?" you ask, and everyone in the group agrees. You expect Kai to go with some of the boys who start making their way down to the river, buckets in hand, but he lingers by your side as the rest of you head towards the market square. 

For some reason, Kai seems to be sticking especially close to you. He accompanies you on more of your errands, only taking on his own if someone calls him over specifically. Even then, he makes his way back to you as soon as he can, dutifully trailing behind you. 

"You're like a duckling," you tell him as the two of you make your way back out onto the street. You count the coins in your palm and only shoot him a short sidelong glance when he drops his share into your pocket, trying to be stealthy. 

"What do you mean?" he asks, sidling up beside you. 

"The way you're trailing me," you explain, dropping the rest of your coins into your pocket where they clink against the ones he left. He cringes slightly, knowing he's been caught, but you don't say anything about it. "It's like I'm a mother duck and you're a duckling, following right behind me."

"Hm," he hums, hands clasped behind his back. "Does that also mean I'm cute like a duckling?" 

He's smiling at you almost smugly, like he's expecting a compliment. Your heart flutters at the sight, and you wonder if you'll ever get used to just how handsome he is. Pushing the thought aside, you nudge him with your elbow, snorting,

"Helpless, more like." Kai laughs and knocks right back into you,

"You're right, I'm hopeless. What would I do without you?" His words catch you off guard, and you clear your throat to cover your embarrassment. 

"Who taught you to talk like that?" you tease, and his grin widens. 

"My dad told me I should be sweet to the girls in my life. Especially the really important ones. And the ones I really like." 

Which of those am I? you wonder, but the words get stuck in your throat. You and Kai stare wordlessly at each other for a moment, and you feel as though you're getting pulled in by his sparkling eyes—

"Kai! Can you come help me with this?" You both startle at the voice of another vendor, and you poke his shoulder. 

"You should go help them. I'm going to ask around for more errands." Kai nods, and you can't tell if you're imagining the disappointment in his eyes as he turns away. 

The day ends the same place it started — Kai walks you back to your house to check on the garden again before you start dinner. You stay in the kitchen and tie on your apron, pulling out your paring knife so you can start peeling potatoes and carrots. While he looks to see if there's anything to be gathered, you light the fire under the large pot hanging in the fireplace and dump the bucket of well water you had brought with you in. Kai comes back through the door with a small basket tucked under his arm as you pull your chair up by the fire, settling down to start peeling. 

"Can I help?" he asks. It's not an unusual request, but one you're not sure if you'll allow. Kai isn't always the best with a knife, prone to getting distracted as the two of you talk. The last thing you want is for him to slice his finger open, but you find yourself nodding anyway. 

"Okay, but be careful. Can you start on the carrots?" You feel safer about him peeling carrots than potatoes, and he acquiesces, pulling another chair up beside you. 

The crackling of the fire fills the room, the sound of peels hitting the bottom of the buckets barely audible. Eventually you start humming, a habit you picked up from your father, and Kai joins in on the tune. You glance at him to be sure he isn't distracted and are pleased to find him peeling the carrots successfully. 

"Oh, wait, Y/N!" he exclaims a few moments later, almost making you slice off a large chunk of perfectly good potato. You look over to him as he sets his knife on his lap and picks up a carrot. He holds the tip in his left hand and raises it to about his shoulder, the bottom of the carrot pointing diagonally at his right hip, and raises his other hand. 

"Doo dwang dee dwang~ Dow dow da dow-da-da-dow~" 

You stare on in mute disbelief as he continues, tapping his fingers along the tip of the carrot, making a strumming motion with his other hand at its wide end. He eventually stops and beams at you, an expectant look in his eyes.

"So, what do you think? Did I sound like a lute?" 

"That was a lute?" You almost feel bad for asking, but really, you wouldn't have ever guessed. 

"Huh," he says, looking down at the carrot in his hand. "My mom liked my impression."

"Moms are like that," you reply. "My mom once told me I had a nice singing voice and then I embarrassed myself in front of half the village kids."

Kai seems a little puzzled by this, as though he hadn't considered his mom might just be saying that because he's her son. Regardless, he shrugs it off and picks his knife back up. 

"I'll just have to practice more."

You don't say another word and just go back to peeling and humming. Kai leaves when the bell rings on the hour, and you continue cooking dinner as your parents make their way home in the twilight of the village. 

You don't see Kai for the next few days — not that it worries you. Honestly, you don't know what he does or where he is most of the time, but it's fine. You go about your usual routine, until it's interrupted by an unusual tolling of the bell, the kind that signals for villagers to come to the main square for news. You set aside your sewing and rush out to meet your friends there, spotting your father on the edges of the crowd with his coworkers from the smithy. As you gather, you see some sort of palace official with the royal guard behind him preparing to speak. He unfurls his message and clears his throat loudly; the crowd instantly hushes. Your heart beats loudly in your ears, worrying over whether the news is good or bad and your mom working inside the palace. 

"Hear ye, hear ye— to celebrate the joyous occasion of Prince Kai Kamal Huening's eighteenth birthday, all citizens are invited to attend a ball at the royal palace, Saturday fortnight! Be prepared to eat, drink, and be merry!" 

A birthday banquet at the palace with everyone invited? you think. Then, Kai almost named his pet rock like a member of the royal family? 

You wish he was there so you could get his reaction, but instead you turn to your other excited friends. All you can think of is what you could possibly wear to the palace of all places, and with only two weeks to prepare. 

Not seeing Kai for a few days is normal, but not seeing him for two weeks is strange. He had shown up at your home out of breath the afternoon of the ball announcement, asking if you'd heard the news, only to run back home just as quickly after checking on the garden. Your mother had rushed home that evening with a roll of fabric in her arms, exclaiming that her coworkers knew she had a daughter around the prince's age and let her take the last of an old bolster home. It wouldn't make much, maybe sleeves or the bodice of a gown, but it was beautiful. It was leftover from some drapes in a far wing of the palace, a plush blue velvet with golden-threaded embroidery. 

"You'll look splendid," your mother had said, positively beaming as she held the fabric up to your chest. You didn't bother telling her that there was next to no chance of you dancing with the prince no matter how pretty your dress was, but thought better of it. Besides, it's not like you weren't excited at the prospect of dancing — just not with some total stranger like the prince. The image of Kai smiling broadly when you said that you would be attending the ball rose to the forefront of your mind. 

Pushing it aside, you and your mother had begun working on your gown. Now, with the ball only days away, you hadn't seen even a glimpse of Kai in all that time. You'd wanted to show him the fabric, but with it almost finished you want the final look to be a surprise to everyone but you and your mother. With each day you don't see him, worry weighs more heavily on your heart. Nobody in the village knows Kai better than you, so if something had happened then nobody would even know where to start looking for him. You (and your friends) tell yourself to calm down. He always turns up, so you just have to be patient. 

You stare down at the potato plants in the garden forlornly, looking at how some of the leaves are beginning to turn just the slightest bit brown as autumn begins to descend. You imagine Kai's worried face and let out a sigh. You just hope he's alright, wherever he is. 

On the morning of the ball, everyone in the village wakes up excited. There's no real work to be done that day, as the palace had ordered most businesses to halt operations unless absolutely necessary. Your father scrubs his hands and face (with your mother's help) until his skin doesn't have even the slightest speck of soot on it. You help your mother braid her beautiful hair into a pretty crown on her head, and she helps you into your brand new dress. Slowly, the villagers start making their way up the hill to the palace; you walk behind your parents, who walk arm-in-arm, chatting happily. You wonder how long it's been since they've been able to spend a day together like this, or seen each other all dressed up. The thought of seeing Kai in a fancy outfit makes your heart pound; he's so pretty even in the simplest work clothes, how much more attractive will he look in party attire? 

You try not to dwell on it, not wanting to be even more nervous than you already are. Instead you focus on all the familiar faces around you, dressed in their absolute best and chattering excitedly. You aren't sure exactly where your friends are because you came with your parents, but you know you'll all find each other eventually. When you reach the palace gates, you're greeted by members of the royal knights and other official-looking personnel. Your mother points out the people she recognizes, whispering to you and your father who the chamberlain is, and the butler, and the marshal. You lose track of all the people as you're led into the ballroom and are astounded by its grandeur. You've never seen so many candles in one place, or so much food and wine. 

"I'm going to find my friends," you announce, still half in a daze. You do try to find them but also end up wandering around the room, in awe of everything around you. Even the drapes in this room put the fabric your mom brought home to shame — is it because it's a big event, or had that fabric been for drapes in some unimportant room. You finally catch sight of a couple of your friends, but as you make your way to them you're interrupted by the sound of a bugle. The whole crowd turns their attention to the raised platform where the two large thrones sit alongside three smaller thrones that you assume are for the two princesses and the prince. 

"Now announcing the arrival of the His and Her Majesties, the Sun and Moon of the kingdom!" Everyone drops into a bow or curtsy as the royal couple enters, and you glance up through your eyelashes to get a glimpse of them. You're surprised by just how stunning they appear, and how kind their smiles look. They stand in front of their thrones and look off to the side as their children’s entrances are announced,

"Princess Lea Navvab Huening!" She enters with a smile and a graceful wave, her dark brown hair pulled back neatly. She looks almost familiar, though you wonder if it's just because she's standing beside her parents. 

"The Prince, Kai Kamal Huening!" The entire crowd goes even more quiet, excited to get a glimpse of the man of the hour. Your breath catches in your throat when you see him, and you have to rush to lower your head so you don't seem disrespectful. 

That… that’s your Kai, isn't it? Up there on the platform? Your head is spinning, and you barely hear the announcement of the youngest royal sibling, Princess Bahiyyih Jaleh Huening. She's beautiful, too — the whole trio is stunning as they stand beside their parents, but you can scarcely think with the way your heart is racing. This whole time, your Kai was actually Prince Kai? You swear it can't be true, then look back at the royal family as the King and Queen descend for the first dance of the night and know you're right. It's him. 

You barely see the first dance, but when the Prince and first Princess descend for the second dance you're hyper-focused. Once he's on the dance floor you truly can't deny it anymore. 

You can't decide what to do. A part of you wants to run and hide, embarrassed and, frankly, scared that you had treated a member of the royal family like any other village child. How could you be so stupid? How could you not know? You try to slink away to the furthest edges of the crowd as Prince Kai has the third dance with the second princess, wondering if you can somehow get away without being noticed by him. 

But then they announce that the ball has started in earnest. The King and Queen take their seats, as well as the princesses, and you watch Kai scan the crowd in search of a partner for his first dance with someone who isn't his sister. You step behind one of your father's coworkers, an exceedingly tall man, but you're shocked when the crowd suddenly starts parting in front of you almost immediately. 

"Y/N?" a familiar voice calls, soft. You swear your heart stops in that moment. The man steps aside to reveal Kai, the light making the golden crown on his head seem like a halo. 

"Can I have this dance?" 

Everyone is staring at you and Kai with the same sense of disbelief that you're feeling. The same boy they'd had running errands a mere two weeks before was the prince of their kingdom, and now he was asking the girl he'd run around the village with for years to be his dance partner. 

"I— um, are you sure about this?" you whisper, looking from his face to his outstretched hand and back. You know what this looks like, what this implies. After all, celebrating his birthday like this is also to remind everyone that he's an adult of marriageable age now — does he really want to imply that you're his first choice?

But Kai just continues to smile, albeit looking a little bit more confused. 

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" 

So, you take his hand. 

You've never slow danced with anyone but your father at home, and even then it was just for fun; your dancing at festivals was never so regimented. Kai guides your hands to their proper placements and squeezes the one he holds, flashing you a reassuring grin. 

"I've got you. Just follow my lead." It feels like your heart has leapt up into your throat, so you can only manage to nod and put your trust in him like he said. 

And he guides you. You never would have guessed he was such a skilled dancer, but it's so easy to follow his lead that you're able to actually enjoy yourself more than worry about how you look. His hands are warm and his gaze is so fond, so tender, that you almost can't believe it's you he's looking at. As you fall into a comfortable rhythm, Kai leans in closer.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, his lips almost brushing against your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, but you don't think anyone but him notices. It only makes him smile more when you stare at him in bashful disbelief. When he said his dad told him to say sweet things, that was the King, right? That realization just sends you reeling further. 

You stare at him, not sure what to say to that aside from a barely audible,

"You too." Kai blushes, his cheeks turning a rosy pink that makes him look even more angelic. 

"So am I an important girl or a girl that you like?" you ask, not really meaning to say anything at all and certainly not something so embarrassing. Kai looks taken aback, his eyes widening like a deer's. Somehow his cuteness makes you feel embarrassed, but you try not to show it. 

"Both?" he says. "I think it can be both. So, both." He smiles, satisfied with his answer.  

"You like me?" you squeak out, and Kai cocks his head to the side. 

"Yeah? I thought that was obvious. Everyone else knew." 

"Everyone else knew?" you parrot in disbelief, and Kai nods. 

"I guess I'm the only one they teased about it…" You can't help but laugh a little at that; none of the other neighborhood kids ever gave you much shit since you were their unofficial leader. That said, you're definitely going to have to grill them about this later. 

Kai pulls you slightly closer as the song comes to an end, before you part to bow and curtsy to each other. 

"Can I have the next dance, too?" he asks, looking down at you with the most doe-like eyes he can manage. You press a hand to your chest, where your heart is still pounding. 

"I think I need to sit down before I have a heart attack. This was a lot to take in." You take the hand Kai offers you, though, as he escorts you over to a chair. 

"I'll get you something to drink," he says, and he's gone before you can even protest that a servant could probably just bring a tray around. He's still your Kai, after all, you think, and it makes you feel relieved. 

As you're sitting waiting for him you notice how many eyes are on you. None are judgmental, thankfully — most are just in awe, both that Kai is actually the Prince and you suddenly seem in line to become a part of the royal family yourself. The mere thought makes your cheeks start to burn again, and you wave your hands by your face to try and cool down. 

As you're doing so, you suddenly notice the crowd parting towards you again, this time to allow the two princesses to approach. You hurriedly stand up and drop into a curtsy,

"My humblest greetings to your highnesses, the first and second princess." Your hands are shaking but you hope they don't notice as you hold your skirts up. 

"Is this her?" the second princess, Bahiyyih, whispers to her sister. You glance up just as the first princess elbows her before turning to you with a smile. She takes both your hands in hers. 

"What she means is, we've heard a lot about you. And Kai has gotten in a lot of trouble for sneaking out all the time, but we get it now." You swear your face gets warmer with every word she says, made worse by the effervescent grin on Bahiyyih's face as she nods along to her sister's words. Just then, Kai reappears by your side, a drink in each hand. Lea lets go of your hands, which you're grateful for because you feel like your palms are getting sweaty. 

"Lea…" He whines, shifting so he's standing behind you even though you don't hide him very well. You reach for your drink, hoping that having something to hold will ease your shakiness. 

"It's true!" Bahiyyih chimes in. "It took us forever to figure out where he was going, and then we realized he was going to meet a girl! It's so cute!"

"Please don't call me cute," he groans. 

"But you are cute," you blurt, and immediately want the ground to swallow you whole. A glance at Kai tells you his face is bright red, burning hot just like yours, and Lea squeezes your hands tighter as she and Bahiyyih practically squeal with delight. 

“So you do think I'm cute?” Kai asks, leaning around to get a look at your face. Now both he and the princesses are looking at you expectantly, and you feel like your face is on fire. 

“Well, yeah,” you mumble, quickly taking a sip of your drink. The princesses are almost vibrating with excitement, and Kai’s face turns bright red but his eyes are glimmering with excitement, his smile broad. His joy is almost blinding, and your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. 

“I think you're cute, too, Y/N,” he says. Your knees feel weak, and you only manage to pull your gaze from his when you faintly hear the sound of Bahiyyih giggling. Lea takes hold of her little sister’s arm and smiles apologetically at you,

“We'll give you two some time alone now.” She starts tugging Bahiyyih away, but the youngest Huening sibling takes hold of your hand.

“I can't wait to get to know you better, sister-in-law!”

“Uh, y-yes, me too,” you reply, mind going blank. Sister-in-law?! In a daze, you sit back down in the chair Kai had led you to earlier, barely registering that he's sitting next to you until he sets his hand on top of yours. 

“Are you okay?” You turn to him, mouth slightly agape. 

“Did she call me sister-in-law?” you ask. Kai laughs bashfully and links his fingers with yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Yeah, she's… excitable.” You nod, still sort of dazed, and take another sip of your drink. Staring back out into the crowd, you notice the princesses making their way back up to their parents’ side. In the distance you can see Bahiyyih leaning in to whisper something to her mother, and the queen's gaze seems to find you in the sea of people. 

“Oh my god,” you say, hurriedly turning back to Kai. “Does— do your parents know about me?” He nods.

“I got caught sneaking out and told them everything,” he explains. “This ball was part my idea and part theirs, so I could introduce you to them… Or let them see you, at least.” He must have seen the total anxiety in your expression at the prospect of meeting his parents one-on-one and immediately smooths it over, squeezing your hand again. 

“There's no rush,” he reassures you, and looking into his earnest eyes does actually help to calm your nerves. From this close you hardly notice the crown on his head, he just looks like the same boy you've been running around the village with for years. Just Kai. 

Your Kai. Just the thought makes your heart soar. 

You down the rest of your drink and stand up, Kai’s hand still in yours. 

“Do you want to step outside for a bit?” you ask, and Kai nods, setting his own drink aside too before standing up. The two of you make your way onto one of the balconies off the ballroom, and the cool night breeze puts your mind at ease. You feel like you can finally breathe again, standing by Kai’s side under the familiar light of the moon. He lightly swings your joined hands between you, staring up at the stars. Eventually, he turns his full attention back to you,

“Why did you want to come outside?” You take his other hand in yours and look down at the stones paving the bottom of the balcony. His shoes are so nice, you think, and almost want to laugh. All this time you wondered why he was only around some of the time and gave his money to the other kids — meanwhile he was sneaking in and out of the palace to come meet you. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage,

“I just… thought it would be kind of embarrassing to have our first kiss in front of a crowd…” Kai squeezes your hands unintentionally, and you glance up at him, unable to meet his gaze fully. Even after saying it, you aren't sure where you got the confidence. 

“So, can I?” he asks, his voice soft. “Kiss you, I mean.” You laugh, the tension breaking, and lean in. 

“You really are hopeless, aren't you?” you tease, “Of course.”

You press your lips to his, the taste of wine still lingering, and you suddenly get the feeling that this is the beginning of the rest of your life. And you're going to live happily ever after.

[shares-a-vest]

💖 Fic Writing Review 2023 💖

I was tagged by @penny00dreadful @rocknrollsalad @cranberrymoons and @unclewaynemunson Thanks everyone! You all smashed it in 2023. Here's to more words wording and fun fandom times with our faves.

Tbh, it took me a good month minute to work out how to do this, seeing as I don't post much to ao3 (something I intend on mending in 2024). I'm very much going with the 'feel free to show whatever stats you like' aspect of the rules.

But before all that, I'd like to use this post as an opportunity to acknowledge everyone who enjoys my writing. I kinda just fell into writing in this fandom and discovered that I love it!

I'm also sending love and appreciation to my beloved moots and everyone in the stwg discord server. Here's to another year of creating, sharing and interacting 💖

This fandom really is my happy place a lot of the time, a much-needed creative outlet and a space where I can talk to people who let me be my silly little old self.

I have so much I want to write in 2024 (including some in-the-works stuff listed below). One goal I know I have in 2024 is to write what I'll temporarily title, 'The Origin of Joanie Munson'. I would really like to knuckle down and write a looonnnggg fic this year that would tell that story.

Anyway, enough of me talking, I'll stop before I get too sappy...

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Eddie Munson: Sparkly Vampire Boyfriend

Proudest Work & Reflections:

Wayne and Steve get hearing aids: This post was very much inspired by my pop's ongoing struggle with his hearing aids. HoH Steve is a beloved headcanon of mine so I was happy to receive so much love for a little ficlet that came from a very real place.

Steve spends Father's Day with the Buckleys: If there's one Steve trope I will write, it's Steve Has Bad Parents™. I always find myself writing this trope and getting Steve all sad and angsty as a personal coping mechanism/outlet for irl Dad Stuff™. I was a pile of goo over the tags and comments saying this ficlet resonated with readers! We really are just out here projecting onto our blorbos to get through shit.

Joanie Munson's First Word: I love my Joanie Munson AU. And one thing I love writing into it is Wayne being a doting Grandpa. It was a WIP for quite a while and I remember waking up at like 3am, unable to sleep and bam I finished it, proving that sometimes it's worth letting something linger in the drafts until the moment strikes.

My Fandom Events in 2023 (I did a sprinkling of others, but these I completed/worked on consistently):

Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge SPRING and SUMMER

Steddie Week 2023

Steddiemas

Upcoming Works & Events (aka, next in the pipeline):

Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge WINTER

Clarkson Mixtape Fic

STWG Hozier Project

Tagging some precious moots (plus those above) to send my love and good New Year vibes to! @thefreakandthehair @tboyeddie @steventhusiast @imfinereallyy @hbyrde36 @spicysix @momotonescreaming @withacapitalp @farahsamboolents @hellion-child @sidekick-hero (also feel free to do this tag game too if you'd like/haven't already!)

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

[angelosearch]

Some writing updates, if ya'll are interested...

Since I substantially overshot my May and June writing goals, I've decided to stretch myself for July... 50k words. Yes, this is how I am choosing to spend my summer. Writing feels great and the sun/heat makes me sick and I have the time so... here we are.

And if you're growing tired of me, do not fret! I am certain that come late August/September I will be scarce. I am writing my brains out now while I have the space because who knows when/if I'll ever be able to do this again.

I have a few irons in the fire, one-shot-wise. I am working on my Squall and Angelo friendship fic request and I'd like to do a little something for That Guy's birthday. I think my FFVIII Bingo Card may be finished this month, but it's not my highest priority.

I am still considering trying again at a 5k AU for ficwip simply because writing Eyes of the Storm was such an amazing experience and cannot stop thinking about it. Hoping I'd recapture that magic. But we'll see.

The final chapter for A New Beginning is in the works, but right now I am realizing I may have gone overboard with the drama, so that progress may have to be undone. But either way, I suspect it will be posted within the next 10 days.

Vessel of Hyne's Grace and FFVIII the Musical may get some love, but both of those projects are very inspiration-dependent.

Chaos Theory. Trust me when I tell you I am working on that constantly. But I have never tried to finish anything like this before, and it's a big trust exercise between me and my writing ability. I have written 3ish chapters of part 4 already but I have no idea when I am going to feel ready to post them. I just want things to come together cohesively and I don't want to have to retcon myself. So it may be a few weeks before an update, but then you're probably going to get like two chapters a week or something.

That's the lineup!!

[ten-cent-sleuth]

4, 10, 15 and 16 for the writer asks please! :)

Coming right up! :)

4. A story idea you haven’t written yet?

I answered this here as well, but I’m happy to trot out another one. It’s not like I’ll be running out of unwritten ideas any time soon. xD

Since you’re like my Hotchniss mutual (😜), here’s the entirety of a plot bunny I jotted down in a Doc literally just titled “Hotchniss Idea”—

Prentiss is always joining groups. Growing up and moving around, she was categorically, methodically The New Girl. When she joined the FBI, her colleagues frequently iced her out because of her mother and she had to wriggle her way into their dynamics. She often (or at least twice: Doyle and Hotch) dated men who had already experienced marriage and fatherhood. One day, an unsub somehow picks up on this (or he’s been stalking her? or she tells him all this by herself to build rapport?) and—in front of the whole team, naturally—urges her to pick him instead and for once to get to build something. “You’ve always had to fight for approval and justify the space you take up. Affection from your mother, friendship during your youth, trust from your team—it’s never been free, has it? With me, it would be, I swear to you. My love would be unconditional.”

This would, of course, lead to some fluffy team reassurances aaand Aaron getting to comfort Emily about any legitimate lingering insecurities. Welp, it’s not the most fleshed-out idea, and I don’t know that I’d ever get around to writing it, but there we go. :3

10. What is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

Ooh, I’m glad you asked this one because interestingly, my answer changed a couple of months ago!

The oldest WIP that I still haven’t shelved as “probably not going to finish this” is an Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Secret Service AU, which I started in like 2020 and which I still consider my baby, my pride and joy, my pet project. However, I suppose the question is more about a draft that has by now been completed, so I will instead say—

—this sucker ☝🏽☝🏽 sat in my drafts from June 12, 2023 (or, uh, June 13 at 04h00 😅) to September 30, 2024. Less than a year and a half might not be too long a wait for a multichap, but this was a 2k-word one-shot! For me, short stories get written within a week or not at all: those tend to be spun out of a whirlwind of feels rather than forged out of conscious outlining, so the heart of the story will decay after too long. Not in quality necessarily, but in vitality—in what it means to me, you know? So I was astonished and thrilled with my muse for making an exception here (and must once again thank @queen-vessaraia-ashlynne for giving that muse its direction again). ;P

15. Favourite weather for writing?

I had never given this thought before! During the summer, I seize the opportunity to write outside, so I suppose perfect walking weather would be perfect writing weather. If I’m indoors and comfortable though, I don’t really notice! In general, I love cloudless sunny skies and a good snowstorm, so maybe those can also be my favourite weather(s?) for writing in particular. ;D

16. Favourite place to write?

Idk if I have one! I’ve written in the bathtub, on the bus, during class, at the hospital, underneath my desk (floor time for those who like to hide and vanish 👍🏽), literally inside the closet, on hills and beaches……and honestly, I’ve found that as long as I am writing, I’m incomparably happy.

Maybe my old dormitory though? I felt very alive and productive there in general, thanks to my first contact with the beautiful intersection between convenience and independence. I’ll probably never see it again though, lol!

Click on the link to send more fic writer asks! 👻

Thank you so much for the questions. <3

[thescribblings]

Welcome to my blog! Where i mainly post about my future leo; Orion! (Even though that's a nickname, lol)

I also have a future donnie design, who has been named (with the very generous help of @sinestrosmind) Akari! Or Aki for short :]

(I have a patreon if you're interested)

So, due to some unfortunate events, i am currently unemployed and struggling financially. I can't pay rent and due to mental illness, including cptsd, i am not currently able to get a job. As of right now, i am lucky enough to get to stay with a friend of a friend for free until i can start paying rent, the savings i have are just enough to keep me fed for a few months, tops. I hate to bring this to my own safe space, but the reality of the situation is that i need help. If you can and are interested, then please join my patreon. Anything would be infinitely appreciated, and that includes just sharing or liking this post. Have an amazing day, you beautiful creatures<3

As a patron, you get to see what I'm working on! I post wips, abandoned projects, and occasional writing, you also get to suggest my next piece or a prompt (although i can't promise that it'll catch my eye!), if I'm not sure what to draw next i might make a post and let you help me decide, you can make requests but I'm very driven by what personally interests me when i draw, basically I'm not able to draw something that i don't enjoy drawing. I also might just be burnt out, as i get burnout periods rather often

In the future i hope I'll post short comics that i myself draw, and gifs, animatics, anything really :] i just want to create, but i only started seriously learning to draw about a year ago, so it'll take a while before i do the things i need actual patience for lmao <3

I also occasionally post some Semi-Feral Polaroids content! It's a lovely shared AU @so-called-yokai and i put together where Orion and their gorgeous oc Eshra are romantically involved :]

I'm rather socially awkward due to ADHD, Autism, and social anxiety, so i can't promise that I'll respond to comments

Just know that i appreciate it a whole lot when you take time out of your day to tell me something!

I'm new to Tumblr ( I have only had it since the summer of 2023 ish). So bear with me as i learn how to use it!

I will post here very rarely (i can disappear for like 6 months at a time, that is a promise) but the rise fandom has motivated me to get better and draw again (hyperfixations go brr)

(i basically only draw Orion and Eshra but y'know-) oh, and i don't fuck with t-cest, that's nasty. I'm also not very invested in ships other than Semi-Feral Polaroids, so don't expect that from me

I made my own au a while back! I'm still fleshing it out and all, but i named it "slightly feral future leo (with ghosts)" or "sffl(wg)" for short. It's a very self indulgent "peepaw ended up in the past for no specific reason" au and it doesn't really have much plot yet, but i just like drawing cute turtle scenarios (a lot of the Leo's snoozing since they deserve a nap) or sometimes I'll draw some angst, (I'm very into angst, but I'm bad at drawing it lol)

Keep in mind that I've been very inspired by other creators and their au's when i created this one, most of it is cherry picked from others creations but i still like it. Even if some very well thought out and emotional concepts have been plucked and haphazardly shoved into my mess of an au, i just want to avoid as much confusion as possible by writing this long ass post ngl

I've decided to let people ask me things now. However, if you have any art requests whatsoever, just know that i only draw when I'm inspired and really, REALLY feel like it! I do still appreciate asks about my au if you're interested, though! (Art requests that i don't draw or can't draw might be saved for later and drawn in the future, btw. though it's not guaranteed)

If you couldn't already tell, i write a lot! I love describing things and telling some stories with drawings, so be prepared for some wordy and long ass posts, lol!

I also have a uh, rather neglected side blog (@a-variety-of-scribbles), it consists of literally anything except my scribblings

Now, have an amazing day you wonderful creature! (whatever you may be)

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 🩵 💜 🤎

[atwooozi]

gojo x oc

Chapter 12: Just Like Starting Over

summary: Ai finds herself emotionally drained and struggling after a tense karaoke session with Gojo. Her discomfort grows during a press junket for Gojo’s new movie, where she navigates awkward interactions and chaotic environments alongside her team, Geto and Junpei.

genre: modern AU, slice of life, comedy, eventual romance, eventual smut, some angst

A/N: This week has been so crazy with the weather lately. I usually love summer storms but because of the strong winds it knocked out my internet for a few days and I gotta say I was so surprised at how difficult it was to do anything on my phone only. A complete first world problem but it was a pain. If you've also been dealing with crazy storms I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

This week's song is Radiant Memories by TANUKI. It might feel a bit redundant given last week's pick, but I think this is a bit more of a continuation of those feelings but with a more uplifting perspective given the instrumental.

Ai spent the last day of her break rotting in bed, exhausted. She hadn’t heard anything from Gojo since karaoke, and much as she wanted to tell herself that it was a good thing, it only felt more painful with each passing day.

She was starting to wonder if being around Gojo for so long had made her a bit more dramatic. Although so much had happened to her emotionally in such a short amount of time, it had only been a day and a half.

“I just want to be friends, Ai-chan.”

Gojo’s words echoed in her head and it made her shiver. She couldn’t help but make an audible disgusted noise to herself from how juvenile she felt.

The silence was deafening. It was partially (if not completely) her fault that she was in the mess, but what else could she do? She could quit the story, of course, but that was not even an option in her mind.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

Ai and the rest of her tiny team were back with Gojo as he went about promoting his new movie. Instead of following Gojo around at MAPPA studios, they were taken to a ritzy hotel downtown. Currently, Gojo was in a makeshift green room, set up to shield talent from the hoards of interviewers and photographers who were anxiously waiting for them outside.

The room itself consisted of bland-looking temporary walls, spare furniture that the hotel provided, and a couple of vanities set up for the poor actors promoting their much-anticipated project.

From what Ai knew, actors and directors were sent to sit in a conference room for press junkets for hours on end—a day of back-to-back media interviews. Boiled down to its simplest parts, press junkets were nothing more than celebrity journalist speed dating events that everyone, cast and crew alike, seemed to dread.

Unlike everyone else in the room, Gojo was beaming as usual. Ai’s team, on the other hand, felt rather on edge as they squeezed themselves into the green room. Between the different PR teams, multiple stylists, and the three of them–Ai, Geto, and Junpei– the space felt increasingly claustrophobic.

“Are we staying the whole day?” Geto whispered to Ai as he adjusted his camera. After a moment, Geto took some pictures of Gojo as a hairstylist touched up the star’s already perfect-looking hair.

“I don’t think I need help,” Gojo said as he cast a mischievous glance Geto’s way. “I’m already perfect, but my handsome friend needs it.”

Geto arched an eyebrow at Gojo before looking through his viewfinder again.

“Look at his weird bangs!” Gojo teased as he pointed a finger in Geto’s direction.

Before Gojo could say more a bright flash went off, causing him to groan as he turned away. He rubbed his eyes with a pout. “You’re so mean, Suguru.”

“And you look ugly today,” Geto retorted as he looked at the picture he had just taken with a frown.

Out of curiosity, Ai peaked at the camera display. In all fairness, it wasn’t the best picture in the world, but if Gojo having slight bags under his eyes qualified him as ugly, then Ai could be classified as a beast.

Gojo gasped, fake hurt written all over his face. “You shouldn’t lie like that.”

Geto ignored Gojo as he adjusted the settings on his camera.

Ai couldn’t be sure, but from the expression on Geto’s face, she was assuming that the lighting wasn’t much to his liking.

“No…we’re breaking after the hour lunch and then we’ll reconvene as the interviews start wrapping up,” Ai explained, trying to circle back to Geto’s original question.

Subtle relief seemed to wash over Geto as he took in the information. “Sounds good.”

Though Geto didn’t say it, it was clear that this was the last place he wanted to be. Ai couldn’t fault him for that. The crowd and overall stressful atmosphere were draining, but she couldn’t imagine having to try and take pictures in such a mess.

Ai gave him an understanding nod as she watched another person make their way into the already-crowded room. He took a seat next to Gojo and was quickly greeted by a makeup artist, who started working almost immediately. Ai found it almost funny when she saw the artist swipe dark eyeshadow under the actor’s eyes to accentuate his already prominent dark circles unlike Gojo he was cute enough to pull it off.

“Senpai, th-that’s Okkotsu Yuta,” Junpei said quietly as he looked over at the young star in awe.

“Hey supervisor ,” Geto interjected. “You’re in the way of my shot.”

Ai rolled her eyes at the two. “Will you two cut it out?” She looked over her shoulder and caught Geto sticking his tongue out at Junpei.

Geto glanced at Ai and gave her a cheesy smile. “Need something, Ai-san?”

“Stop teasing my kouhai, please,” Ai sighed.

As much as she’d like to believe that she shouldn’t have to reprimand someone older than her, Ai reminded herself that Geto Suguru was just a special case. His best friend was just as bad as he was, after all.

“That’s just how I show my affection,” Geto explained as he looked through his viewfinder once more.

Junpei gave Geto a skeptical look as he watched him take pictures of Gojo and Yuta. “I don’t think that’s how you show someone that you care about them, Geto-san…”

Ai shook her head. “No, he’s being serious, Junpei-kun.”

The way that Geto and Gojo interacted with one another was proof enough. The two men only seem to know how to express affection by being absolute terrors. But then again, maybe that was only when they were in each other’s presence. Gojo had the capacity to be more tender when a certain photographer wasn’t around and in all fairness aside from Geto’s sharp tongue, he also had a bit of a softer side.

“You’re weird, Geto-san,” Junpei mumbled as he reached into one of Geto’s bags and began setting up a tripod.

Although they bickered, Geto and Junpei had found a great rhythm in the way they worked together. Without being asked, Junpei seemed to know what Geto would need or how to adjust the lighting just as the photographer liked it.

“Geto, don’t steal my kouhai, please,” Ai whispered to him as he set his camera up on the tripod.

Geto smirked and gave a chuckle. “Who’s to say that I didn’t already steal him, Ai-san?”

Ai blinked at Geto, causing him to smile even more, his eyes turning into devious crescent moons. Was he some kind of supervillain?

Ai quickly glanced around ‌the room to find out where Junpei was. He was sitting quietly on one of the couches provided by the hotel, taking notes on his observations, much like Ai would do. If she weren’t so panicked at the loss of her kouhai, she would feel so proud.

Ai quickly made her way over to Junpei and tugged on his arm. “We should introduce ourselves quickly before they have to get started.”

“Huh?” Junpei stood up, a bit confused by Ai’s actions.

Ai smiled at Junpei as she led him over towards Okkotsu and Gojo, shooting Geto a glare over her shoulder. In return, Geto stuck his tongue out at her before he went back to taking photos.

“Excuse me, Okkotsu-kun?” Ai called out gently as she walked over to the young man.

“Yes?” Okkotsu gave Ai a gentle smile.

Ai bowed her head slightly to him. “I just wanted to introduce myself and my kouhai. This is Yoshino Junpei,” she said as she gestured ‌to the confused young man standing next to her. “We’re working on a profile about Gojo-san.”

“What about me!” Geto complained as he walked over.

“Amada-san, you forgot to introduce yourself,” Junpei whispered to her.

Ai wanted to bash her head through the wall but decided against it. “R-right, I’m Amada Ai.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Okkotsu chuckled. “A profile on Gojo-san, huh? Sounds…interesting,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Ai nodded, offering a strained smile. “It has its moments,” she replied. “I’m sure you’re well aware of how interesting it can be to work with Gojo.”

As they continued to talk, Gojo seemed to have had enough of not being included. He smiled at the group with a trademark grin. “What’s all this?” he chimed, “I thought you guys were writing a story on me .”

Ai turned to face him, feeling an unpleasant tightness in her chest in his presence. “Just introducing ourselves to Okkotsu-kun,” she explained, as she tried her best to keep her tone casual.

Gojo nodded, not giving Ai as much of a glance, and looked at Okkotsu directly. “I think it’s time for us to go–right, Yuta-kun?” he said as he wrapped his arm around the younger actor’s shoulder, already leading him out the door.

“N-nice meeting you guys!” Okkotsu called out before the door closed behind him.

When the two actors left, the hoards of people in the green room vanished along with them. The once-bustling room now felt almost barren as Ai, Junpei, and Geto were the only three left inside.

“…Did Gojo-san seem weird?” Ai asked as she glanced over at Junpei and Geto.

Geto pursed his lips and glanced Ai’s way with an arched brow. Although Geto said nothing, his face said it all.

“I don’t think so,” Junpei said thoughtfully as he peered out the door. “It’s pretty hectic around here, though.”

On the inside Ai was panicking, between the way that Gojo seemed to ignore her and the look that Geto gave her she knew that things were off. She wasn’t sure how to fix it, but she needed to fix it. What it was, she couldn’t really say. Part of her was worried about the story, but another part of her felt frosted out by the actor. Both things bothered her immensely but she couldn’t say which one weighed on her more.

Ai found herself slipping into a familiar routine of taking notes, comparing her material with Junpei, and checking in with Geto now and then to ensure that he remembered to take pictures. Despite the chaos of the literal media circus surrounding them, she couldn’t shake the heaviness that she felt in her heart.

During the brief moments of rest between interviews, Ai stole glances at Gojo, unable to ignore the ache she felt. He was effortlessly charming in front of the cameras, his smile radiant, and his wit sharp. He seemed so unbothered, so like himself, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt a similar pain that she was feeling.

If only Ai had noticed that when she looked away that sparkling blue eyes would somehow find their way to her. It was only for a few brief moments at a time, but unconsciously Gojo’s eyes would follow the silly journalist.

As the lunch break approached, Ai's stomach churned with a mix of nerves and anticipation. This would be her only chance to talk to Gojo casually before they reconvened later.

“Hey Gojo-san,” Ai called out to him hesitantly. She wasn't sure if she was shaking, but she could feel her inner turmoil almost bubble over. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Gojo looked up from his seat, his usually bright and silly face unreadable for a moment before he nodded. “Sure, Amada-san, what's up?”

Ai winced when she heard Gojo address her so formally. It felt so unnatural coming from him. The wall that she worked so hard to break down had been built up again and it was even stronger than it was before.

Ai hesitated for a moment and played with her hands nervously. “I…I'm sorry.” She mumbled.

She looked up at Gojo, as he looked down at her with furrowed brows. Perhaps it was her nerves clouding her judgment, but she couldn’t figure out what to make of the expression. His silence only made Ai flounder more.

“I feel like I was really unprofessional the other day and I–” Ai bit her lip, her voice trembling as she spoke. She looked down at the ground in embarrassment. Never in her life had she ever felt so nervous before.

Ai took a deep breath trying to calm herself down and looked back up at Gojo again. “I just…I’m sorry.” Her voice wasn’t trembling anymore, but the words were so quiet that she could barely hear them over the hubbub happening in the hall.

Gojo leaned forward with a smirk taking over his features. “What was that?” he asked as he cupped his ear. “It’s hard to hear you over all these people.”

Despite the nerves, she felt she couldn’t help but want to wipe that smirk off of Gojo’s face. It was somewhat relieving to know that things between them were…okay, but it was just as irritating that he was punishing her even if she did deserve it.

Ai gritted her teeth. “I said I'm sorry,” she said, speaking as slowly and clearly as possible so Gojo could hear her.

A wide grin spread across Gojo's face as he looked at Ai head-on. His blue eyes looked alive and vibrant. “Hmm…” he hummed as he tapped his chin in thought.

Ai tried her best to stay composed as she looked at him. “Hm?”

“You don't have to apologize,” Gojo said as he stood up from his seat, putting his hands in his pockets. “We weren't even fighting.” He said as he walked over to the catering table.

Ai quickly followed behind him. It was difficult though given how long Gojo's strides were. “I-I'm not done!”

“What else, Ai-chan?” Gojo said as he grabbed multiple bags of cookies–presumably for himself.

She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief when Gojo called her ‘Ai-chan’. She found it annoying at first, but when he called her Amada-san she found herself desperately wanting the annoying Gojo back.

“Can we start over?” Ai asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked down at her shoes. “Like completely over.”

Gojo looked at her blankly for a moment, but then a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he stared down at her. He ruffled Ai’s hair–much to her annoyance–as she swatted his hand away. “No.”

“ No ?”

“Yeah, nah,” Gojo said as he stuffed a cookie in his mouth.

Ai looked up at him with her mouth agape. “What do you mean nah ?”

Gojo stopped mid-chew, his expression shifting from playful to bored. Swallowing his cookie, regarding Ai with a hint of curiosity.

Gojo's gaze lingered on Ai for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I mean, why start over when we only just started?” He replied, popping another cookie into his mouth. “Life is too short to dwell on do-overs and all that dumb stuff. Cookie?” He asked with a grin as he held out the bag to her. “Besides, I feel like we’re just getting to the good part.”

Ai was dumbstruck, she shook her head as Gojo offered her a cookie. “Okay…” she said as she met his gaze.

What was the good part?

Gojo flashed Ai a grin, but there was something in his eyes that made Ai's heart flutter. “We'll talk later?”

Ai nodded, a mixture of relief and apprehension washing over her. “Yeah…”

“Leave Suguru and Junpei-kun at home though, ‘kay?” Gojo called as he walked away.

Ai nodded as she watched him walk away. “…’kay,” she said to herself.

As Ai watched Gojo walk away, a mixture of conflicting emotions churned within her. As relieved as she felt for finally being able to talk to him she was left just as confused.

What the hell was the good part?

Lost in thought, Ai barely noticed Junpei’s gentle tap on her shoulder. “Senpai, are you okay?”

Ai flinched when she felt Junpei’s touch, but did her best to force a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine, Junpei-kun. Just…thinking.”

Junpei nodded, concern still etched into his features despite Ai’s words. “Okay, just let me know if I can help in any way.”

A genuine smile spread across her face. “I will, thank you.”

Before Junpei could walk away, Ai stopped him. “Junpei-kun…”

Junpei’s eyes flicked back to Ai and he smiled expectantly. “Yes, senpai?”

“I’m going to speak with Gojo-san later.”

Junpei gave Ai a confused look. “…Okay?”

“What I mean is…” Ai pursed her lips as she thought about how to put it. “I-I’m going to interview him one-on-one.”

“Sick of us already?” Geto chimed in, causing Ai to flinch as she looked at him over her shoulder.

The man needed to wear a bell or something. Geto always seemed to appear at the worst times. She felt like he was haunting her.

Ai shook her head. “No…I just feel that Gojo will be able to speak more freely if it’s one-on-one.”

Ai wasn’t lying; she did truly believe that. However, it felt awkward to her because it wasn’t her call. Gojo had requested it. She couldn’t imagine what Gojo wanted to talk about with her, but she couldn’t help but dread the conversation.

“You think you can handle that, Ai?” Geto asked his tone as sweet as ever but teasing as per usual.

Ai opened her mouth ready to sass Geto, but she opened her mouth before she could actually come up with anything. Could she handle Gojo on her own? Part of her wondered if she could handle him at all.

Junpei’s scoffed at Geto’s question as if he was personally offended on Ai’s behalf. “My senpai can handle anything.”

Ai couldn’t help but feel touched by Junpei’s confidence in her. She didn’t deserve such a good kouhai. He inadvertently placed some pressure on her but gave her the motivation to want to do better at the same time.

When Geto rolled his eyes at Junpei’s remark and Ai scrunched her face up at him as if to say ‘I’m winning’ in their ridiculous competition of who was the better senpai.

“Call us if you need anything,” Geto said with a fox-like smile as he wrapped an arm around Junpei’s shoulder. “Let’s get something to eat, Junpei-kun.”

Bastard…

Ai hated how cunning Geto was. Even if Junpei did prefer her, she was sure that Geto could win over her kouhai soon enough.

Ai nodded gratefully at the two men. “I will, thank you guys. Good work today.”

Junpei shrugged Geto’s arm as they walked away. “I don’t like when you use my name. It feels creepy…”

Ai couldn’t help but giggle as she watched the two slowly disappear out of the hall together.

Once she was alone she felt her unease settle into the pit of her stomach as she left the hotel conference room. This meeting with Gojo felt like more than just another interview, but maybe that was just Ai’s delusions filtering through. Either way, it was happening and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

[fvriva]

The whole 🐖 for vernautumn 😏

i'll be answering the clover ask first and then put the rest behind a readmore, haha

send me emoji asks about my ocs!

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Autumn: At the time, I was getting into Webtoons for the first time (though after a lifetime of being into webcomics as a whole) and as an experiment, I tried to engineer the most generic female lead from the tropes I currently liked reading. That basically culminated as three main influences:

Shin-Ae Yoo from I Love You. I wanted to make a story with a protagonist that was spunky, but not bubbly, despite all the hardships she had to deal with in her life. A lot of Autumn's voice in my head is very much like Shin-Ae's still.

Amy from Space Boy. I wanted to make a story about an outsider, a fish out of water, slowly finding her place in the world while at the same time finding common ground with a fellow outsider. Both my approach and the source material took a very different route eventually.

Ava Ire from Ava's Demon. This is another influence that stuck around more closely, though originally Wrathia's dynamic with Ava was originally intended to be a parallel with Autumn and Winter, who later became cousins rather than haunted soul-evil tulpa.

Vernon: Like Autumn, I made Vernon originally as a way to try and engineer a comic I'd want to read. He wasn't originally a homunculus, just a cringe little witch. But here are his top three:

Kody from LUMINE. I originally wanted to do something with a witch that couldn't do magic conventionally, a theme that I ended up splitting in half with Autumn as well.

Winter from Winter Woods. This was the first true Frankenstein romance Webtoon I'd read, and despite everything I've got a really special place in my heart for it. You can thank Winter for Vernon's eyebrows.

Oliver from Space Boy. This one was primarily to complete the set with Amy as Autumn, but his arc actually has stayed pretty close to the way Vernon developed as a character! Or at least, it feels that way to me.

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Autumn: Both Autumn and Vernon are relics from when the project was named "Seasonal Depression", which was an early version of the project where Autumn was being haunted by Winter and Summer, a left-right brain pastiche. Her family name of Saffworth refers to both her hair, the exorbitant price of saffron the spice, and the little purple flowers on the saffron plant. Flaxsong, her adoptive family's surname after she runs away, is intended to evoke both their fiber business and history of bardic storytelling.

Vernon: Vernon was designed as Autumn's foil, so he had to be named a spring name. Simple as. Helfeather was mostly just the edgiest dark-witch name I could come up with. (He was originally supposed to be Vernon Helfeather-Cravitz--Cravitz was the surname of his nonmagical deadbeat dad. He now doesn't have a dad at all!)

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Autumn: She starts the story at 15, but she was 12 when she officially ran away from home. I have aus where she's in her 30s as well, as I also have a few stories dedicated to their eventual children.

Vernon: Vernon is a weird one. He only has about 14 years worth of consistent memory and maturation at the beginning of the story, but he's been around for a few thousand years, rebooting and resetting like a bad computer. He'll eventually get to grow up a bit, and could be around indefinitely.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

They are each other's love interests! Autumn also has a lingering crush on her childhood friend, Olivia, but when they meet in the story Olivia already has a girlfriend. Vernon has never gotten close to people before Autumn in that way.

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Autumn: She's famously very picky as for most of her life before the Bloodmaker woke up, she couldn't eat most things without getting sick. During this phase of her life, it was probably bread and butter, not toasted. After the Bloodmaker wakes up and she grows comfortable with trying new things, she finds she really likes spicy foods. She'd love a sichuan hot pot broth or a classic tteokbokki.

Vernon: He physically has no tastebuds or need to eat. It's sticks.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

Autumn: After the events of the story she actively turns away from the medical field and dives into the Flaxsong family business. She manages sales and helps manufacture fabric. She especially enjoys dyeing thread and coming up with cool skeins.

Vernon: Vernon has always wanted to have a very public-facing magical research career, giving Nobel Prize speeches and whatnot. However after he's finally allowed to go to school and graduate he realizes he's way too socially awkward for that. Now he just tinkers in his garage and stays at home with the kids.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Autumn: Autumn likes watching horror movies (which don't exist in her setting, but, y'know, a girl can dream) and making shitty little dolls (either with fabric or, y'know, flesh). She also would LOVE a violent video game....

Vernon: Vernon enjoys people-watching, drawing, and reading. Although he craves being with people, he's also probably one of my more introverted characters.

🎯🥊 - What do they do best? What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Autumn: Autumn has an innate sense for both her and other peoples' physical bodies and anatomy both per the Bloodmaker and her time as a Saffworth having it drilled into her head. She hates engaging with that kind of magic except on her own terms, though. She's adept at but doesn't enjoy magical healing because she's aware of its capacity to harm. She learned to enjoy working with textiles and has gotten pretty good at it over the years, though.

Vernon: Vernon has a lot of very small talents that he doesn't even know about fully, stored in his muscle memory. He's also a very fast reader and usually had pretty good information retention despite his memory issues. He loves learning new things and trying to come up with creative ways to approach problems that accommodate his needs better. However, he hates putting himself in even minorly risky situations, because he hates the threat of losing all of his progress every time he gets a small injury.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Autumn: Sometime midway into the story, possibly offscreen, there's some kind of mundane luncheon where both her adoptive guardians, Vernon and his family, and some of her friends are all spending a lazy afternoon together decompressing after a stressful week. Everyone is happy and lively and chatting together and well-fed.

Vernon: In one of Vernon's lingering first memories from when her resets in front of Autumn, and instead of recoiling in fear and disgust or a similar reaction, she instead helps cut him free of his husk and gives him a big hug.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Autumn: This one's tough but it's probably something from her childhood. I haven't fully ironed out all the Horrors but it was probably at the hands of her cousin, Winter, and it probably was what gave her the inertia to finally leave. She's got a lot of educational, medical, and familial trauma in general.

Vernon: The benefit of having chronic memory issues is he does tend to lose a lot of the bad memories, but one that lingers is an especially nasty one from a couple dozen years ago where he got injured, reset, freaked out whichever peers he was with, and that event started a chain reaction where he almost melted down. (read: went thermonuclear and exploded like a bomb)

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

Autumn's outfit changed from being very preppy to just being cold at all times, but her hair has stayed pretty consistent. Vernon has always worn the same thing but the hoodie pattern/colors changed. He used to have longer, blue hair, and the specific hue of purple used shifts, but he's also pretty similar to his original form in ways.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Autumn: Honestly, she lends herself a little better to a political noble family drama story than what Animus Vitrum actually is, which is an adventure fantasy, but she also does pretty well in a modern setting.

Vernon: Vernon is PEAK sci-fantasy. Rogue alchemist's spawn. If anything, Tela is too mundane for his ass.

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Autumn is a bisexual cis girl. As for Vernon, honestly , he's probably aspec to a degree, but he loves Autumn wholly. He's also physically speaking basically...intersex? Kind of? He doesn't have a lot of the built-in sexual characteristics to the degree of it causing him some discomfort. It's complicated.

🙌 - How many siblings does your OC have?

Autumn: No blood siblings, but she was raised alongside her cousin Winter. She's got a lot of cousins in general.

Vernon: Cy is an imperfect clone made from one of Vernon's old husks by Ozymandias to try and kill him. After they chill out a bit they're kind of like a sibling, sorta.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

Autumn: BAD! Autumn's father was mostly neglectful of her and she only tended to interact with him when he was asking about her magical potential, and when he didn't receive the answer he wanted, he'd simply dismiss her. Her mother was more hands-on abusive, and had a penchant for pitting her against Winter constantly.

Vernon: He's got two moms and like, two not-dads. His moms are very sweet and they look out for him, but they have a tendency to be a little bit protective of him given his overall history and needs. Amelli in particular is also very concerned with the fact that Vernon's existence is technically a national security concern, where Clove is more worried about his emotional well-being. Vernon was technically created by a sorcerer a few thousand years ago and has kind of conflicting feelings about that. And then Ozymandias featured strongly enough in his more recent life to cause him a lot of problems, to say he doesn't like him is kind of an understatement.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Autumn: Autumn's managed to really worm her way into my friends' hearts with her pre-story quiet and shy demeanor. It's going to be exciting once I finally get around to writing her coming out of her shell. I'm looking forward to it.

Vernon: I'm very proud of Vernon's personal cocktail of gender issues, chronic physical/mental disability issues, and of the way he hatches from his own skin like a cicada. He just exudes such potent narrative vibes and I'm always a little in awe of it.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Not as frequently as I have in years past, if I'm being honest. I did rp both Autumn and Vernon a few years back with @the-goblin-cat's Cherise and Neville to try and figure out their voices and I vastly enjoyed doing that. I've mostly just been both too busy with commercial projects and writing Exordium, but also too intimidated by the project to make solid headway into it.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

Autumn: Not really, except as a fakeout with the Bloodmaker. She's textually immortal due to it, and I have too many plans for her going forward in the story.

Vernon: Also not really, though if we're splitting hairs, he's kind of dying every few arcs and is also textually immortal, if not coming back changed.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Autumn: She's actually pretty fearless despite everything! She isn't very fond of pristine environments or disturbing imagery, but while she's able to easily avoid the first thing by allowing herself to take up space, the second she's actually been able to acclimate to it to a degree through the Bloodmaker and a burgeoning fascinating with horror media.

Vernon: He's rather squeamish. He has a tendency to be very careful whenever doing anything and will take any available precautions, as he's got a bad history with injury. He also tends to be very guarded and reserved emotionally, even with his friends, though it tends to just look like his normal bubbly self.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

Autumn: Her cousin Winter is an early antagonist and hurdle for Autumn to overcome. While Winter does have her own cluster of problems from her upbringing, she and Autumn's dynamic is bad for both of them, and Autumn finally being able to beat Winter at something sets Winter on a path towards getting her shit together. She and Vernon also share her other cousin, Emrys, as a nemesis, as he's kind of the antithesis to her "puppet of the family bloodline" narrative.

Vernon: Vernon has TWO arch-nemeses, their clone/sibling Cy, a fellow homunculus, and Autumn's cousin Emrys, who has pretty similar aspirations to him.

🎓🍥 - How long have you had the OC? What age were you when you created the OC?

I made both of these guys close to the same time, in roughly late high school, probably something like 18. (I'm currently 24, as of writing this, which makes this project 6 years old.) I was in the throes of teenaged hormones and this was a great way for me to vent in the moment, but I've since matured out of/moved away from the issues that incited a lot of the edgier subject matter central to this story. In the time since, I've also begun to reapproach teenagedom from the perspective a teacher working with this age-group, so this kind of change in perspective is also what's contributing to all the changes I've made to these characters.

[bloodboundsiege]

out of curiosity, what made you decide to make this into a full fledged visual novel instead of just writing a fic? esp since afaik there hasn't been a demand/outcry for more bloodbound

(this ended up being rlly long, so I'm putting it under a cut. if you don't want to read all of that, the tl;dr is I've been working on an spec adaptation of Bloodbound since 2021, I've been making edits with Choices assets for a little over a year now, and I started messing around with ren'py during my stint in the now no longer active @nightboundthesecond project, and this spinoff is the culmination of all of those things bc I wanted to do something w them).

Anyways, here's the long version:

So...I kind of already did. Sort of.

In summer of 2021, I was going through a pretty bad depressive episode and ended up rereading Bloodbound (which got me back into the fandom as a whole, more on that in a sec). When the dust cleared, I began really heavily reconsidering what exactly I was doing with my life.

I'd been toying with the possibility of doing a film MFA of some kind, but I was worried I didn't have the skillset to get into any grad programs. So, I began teaching myself how to write screenplays by adapting Bloodbound into a spec TV series. From August 2021 to April 2022, I wrote twenty-eight episodes, with three rounds of revisions, which really strengthened my abilities as a writer. I'm currently at a T10 film school getting an MFA. I wouldn't be where I am without doing that. Part of my love for Bloodbound stems from the fact that it quite literally changed my life.

The very nature of turning a book into a screenplay/teleplay is that you have to restructure a lot of plot points so they fit in better with the new medium. With a TV adaptation, you also usually have to build onto the source material. For Bloodbound, that meant fleshing things out and creating new characters to move the plot forward. It also meant exploring things that either happened offscreen or were only brief scenes.

And so when it came time to write episodes for the book 2 adaptation, the huge aspect of that was going into New York City and seeing what Gaius was doing during his hostile takeover. And since I had very little to work with from the source material, I had to come up with a lot of stuff off the cuff. And as I put those storylines together, I was like there's actually some pretty interesting stuff here. This visual novel is based off of that stuff.

@clansayeed and his fantastic reimaginings of Bloodbound and Nightbound had been on my radar for a while at this point, but I wasn't aware of the fake caps he made until I actually checked out his tumblr account. I thought they were really fucking cool. As a little private celebration for finishing the third round of edits for season 1 (and to let myself take a break), I decided to teach myself how to make fakecaps and recreate a few scenes from my adaptation in the Choices format:

I found out that I really enjoyed reworking assets into new outfits and character designs--lowkey, putting on a podcast or a video essay, opening up pixlr, and just making stuff became one of my go-to ways to unwind in the midst of mfa apps and life in general--, so I started making more fandom service stuff for fun and posting them on Reddit. I made a variety of stuff: role reversal AU edits, general dress up stuff, and of course... "on the set of [choices book]: the tv show" fake caps.

I feel like you're not really supposed to say this, but it was kind of validating to me that a lot of those posts did like. Decent numbers. And that kind of motivated me to get better at doing it, especially in the beginning.

And then...It Lives Within dropped. And I think that shifted a lot of how people--myself included--considered what they could do within a fandom space like Choices. Like, if we could make our own shit, why not? I was really intrigued by the idea, and so when there were calls for writers and sprite artists for a Nightbound project, I jumped at the opportunity.

(As a side note, I think the fact that now there are people within the fandom making their own sequels/spinoffs/whatever is gonna be rlly interesting for the general ecosystem of the Choices fandom and its future, but that's a convo for another time lol)

While the team I was on is no longer working on a sequel, being part of that group did a lot for me, and I look back on being part of that really fondly. I think we all were kind of picking up whatever we needed to do, regardless of if it was what we signed on for. For me, that meant teaching myself how to use Ren'py. The thing was, this was still in the really early stages of development, which meant I didn't have a lot of story to play with. So...

I was kind of like. Fuck it. Let me try my own thing out.

The original idea was actually a prequel set in the 1910s, as I'd done an MC set and an LI set based on that very premise, but the problem was that there are so few assets from that time period, and asset creation has never been my strong suit. But then, I thought back to the adaptation I'd been working on.

Some of the strongest writing I think I've ever done was in the episodes where the primary storylines were following Gaius's takeover of New York. I think a lot of the themes of the second book came out in those moments. And as cool as it would be, as much as I've fantasized about it, I don't think Bloodbound: The TV Show is ever happening. So it made sense for me to rework that into a visual novel spinoff.

In terms of the actual framing of this story, I spent a lot of time in the Bloodbound tags in the early days of working on my adaptation. I was deep in those tags. And it's really interesting to see what people expected it to be before its release. Part of it was the assumption of a Clan sorting system. Obviously, that wasn't actually the case.

Additionally, I think a lot of people were frustrated by the fact that Bloodbound's MC isn't really given the option to just. Be bad. Which then makes moments like this super jarring:

So, I decided to put everything I'd learned together. I was working on the GUI/character creation features for Nightbound (side note, the GUI in this game isn't an absolutely perfect replication of the Choices GUI yet and won't be for the demo, but we're getting there), I had a ton of edits I'd made that I wasn't using for anything, and I had a story that I knew could be reworked into an arc about a new vampire in New York City during Gaius's coup.

But with this project in general, it's less about a demand for a sequel/midquel/spinoff within the fandom and more like. I noticed that there were some things people wanted out of Bloodbound and didn't get, and trying to give it to them, because I wanted those things too, and I felt like I had the means to create that. When I've talked to IRL friends about this project (non of whom play Choices), I've just been like "yeah it's a visual novel fanfic" because...it's a visual novel fanfic.

So. That's why.

(This was super long (and felt a little self centered, sorry!), but if you read all of that, I hope it all made sense. All of this is to say that this has been a labor of love for a book series I've been living with for a year and a half, and I want to get part of what I've done with it out of my head. I hope you all like it.)

[my-own-walker]

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

7.

Life is broken up into a series of measurements. Depending on you, or what you may be looking forward to, you measure life differently. A measurement of days, hours, or minutes, or a measurement of miles, feet, and inches. You may measure life in smiles, or in frowns. You may measure it in meals, sleeps, or how many photos you've taken. These measurements culminate, like a jigsaw falling into place. 

I, this particular semester, began measuring life in Calculus quizzes. One a week, now onto the third, three weeks of the semester done, thirteen weeks left. 

Time was flying, but altogether staying utterly still. We were now in September, and it would only be three more quizzes until October. But at the same time, only three quizzes in felt impossible. So much had already happened.

The final whispers of summer drew quieter and quieter. It was a peaceful transition, as warm days never really ceased in Louisiana. There was an unmistakable feeling in the air, though. And leaves fell from trees here and there, reminding me of time's passing.

This week's quiz was no different than the last, though I did feel confident on at least two questions of the ten. I was really riding on this end-of-semester project to go well in order to save my grade. At this point, I wasn't even interested in getting an A in the class. I just wanted to pass. I didn't look at Kyle's answers this time. In fact, I couldn't. He didn't come to class. 

I had my poetry class before my Calculus class on Fridays. I handed in my poem for grading and prayed Kyle's advice would come through. His efforts were not futile, because my professor actually liked it a lot. I was going to let him know during Calc, but it wasn't to be, I guess.

I got home to a bustling apartment. Lily had a speaker playing her music on blast throughout the space. "Bound 2" off Kanye West's new album. I kicked off my shoes by the door and hung up my bag. She stood, rather, danced in place, in the kitchen as I moved further into our shared apartment. It looked like she was making something, but I couldn't make it out. 

"Lily Davies!" I half-gasped, half-exclaimed, sneaking up behind her. She jumped about a mile up in the air and squealed. "Are those Jell-O shots?!"

"Fuck you!" she shouted, turning to smack my arm. "You scared me!" 

"I can tell."

She spun to her right and grabbed her phone off the counter, working quickly to turn the music's volume down. "You can't sneak up on me when I have my pregame playlist on," she huffed. 

"Oh no, we're pregaming?" I groaned, leaning over a clear space on the counter. "Jesus....take me now..." I put the back of my hand on my forehead and leaned back, feigning genuine pain. Lily picked up a measuring cup full of neon green liquid and began pouring it into small shot cups.

"Were you not listening yesterday when I told you about tonight?" she replied, annoyed. "When you were about to leave for your study date."

"It wasn't a date. And obviously not," I shrugged, grabbing a box of cereal from the pantry. "Help me understand, my beautiful roommate." I hopped up to sit on the aforementioned clear spot on the counter and stuck my hand into the box, grabbing a handful of Cheerios to snack on. 

"KLG is hosting for once. It's a mixer with Pi Phi and them. It's a bonfire. Leon's band is playing," she explained, pouring the last of the Jell-O mixture. "Do you remember now?" She put the measuring cup down and wiped her hands on her pant legs. "I can't be fucked to put these in the fridge. I hope they set in time," she added.

"How are you getting them there?" I asked through a mouthful of cereal.

"I'll drive," she answered simply.

"No, you will not," I declared, turning to put the cereal box down next to me. I swallowed before continuing. "I know you. You'll drink and I'll have to drive home."

"Okay? And?" she challenged.

"I hate driving!" I whined. "And what if I want to drink, too?" 

Lily leaned back on the counter and thought for a moment. She picked up her phone and scrolled through for a second, trying to find a solution. "Sarah can drive us," she spoke after a second. "I just remembered she offered in the group chat earlier. Let me text her."

"Oh, thank god," I sighed. "I was not about to take the bus or some shit." I got down from the counter and put my cereal away, careful not to leave anything in Chef Lily's way. She stayed put, texting for a while before exhaling sharply and shoving her phone into the waistband of her leggings.

"I guess we should go get ready so we can start drinking," she groaned. 

"Yes, chef," I shouted, faux-saluting her. She walked over to me and smacked my ass as she passed. 

"Let's get fucked up! Woo!" she yelled, punctuating it with a laugh. 

+

I settled on a black and brown plaid sleeveless dress with sheer black stockings, a lightweight brown cardigan, and my black Doc Martens to wear. I made my eye makeup dark and heavy to match, as well as a smear of brown lipstick over my lips. I figured a bonfire party needed a smoky look to match. At least, that's what Lily shouted to me when I asked her what I should wear.

She took that advice in a different direction, as did all of the other girls there. She wore a tight black tube top and a black skater skirt that barely covered her ass. Her hair was straightened, and her makeup the same as it always was. To each their own, I presume.

The party was entirely outside. I assumed that it was to create a loophole in case any bad incidents happened at the gathering. "Well, it wasn't inside the house!"

KLG was an intimidating frat. I was less scared, though, considering I had just been there the day prior. Since this was a mixer, Lily's sorority was, in part, also hosting, hence her making Jell-O shots. 

We walked around the back, entering through a side gate into the expansive backyard. It was absolutely mobbed. I had a feeling this party had been crashed by people who were not members of either the frat or the sorority. One of them being namely, me. 

A patio-turned-stage sat just next to the house. The band was already up there tuning their instruments. For the time being, some shitty pop music played over the largest speaker I had ever seen. String lights hung just above the stage, lighting it relatively well. They were more than likely added By Pi Phi, not Kappa Lambda Gamma. "A woman's touch," as some would say.

I followed Lily to a table set up toward the far end of the backyard. There, we found an absolute array of bottles and cans of alcohol. She placed her homemade shots in an empty space on the table and smiled at her handiwork. 

"They keep the drinks as far from the house as possible when it's an outside party," Lily shouted to me over the music. "That way people won't go in by mistake."

I nodded in reply, pretending I understood. If the drinks were closer to the house, people would see them better and not mistakenly walk in. But what did I know? I wasn't a frat guy. 

I turned to look at the band, who had started to play a cover of "Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys. It seemed a bit alternative for this crowd, but I wasn't going to complain. In fact, I wished they'd continue to play my kind of music. And just like that, I lost Lily. I had only looked at the band for a beat, but she was a live wire around her sisters.

There was no need for me to feel like a babysitter at this party. Lily's sorority sisters could look after her, which meant I could get as drunk as I'd like. I turned my attention back to the drink table and scanned the selection until I found something that tickled my fancy. 

+

Some hours and some change later, I had polished off an embarrassingly large number of drinks. I would disclose how many, but I don't quite remember. I worked my way through the yard to the giant bonfire on the left side of the yard. I stared blankly into the fire, listening to the band play some song I couldn't quite make out.

The party had reached critical mass. It was almost impossible to move, even around the bonfire. I stayed put, trying to shake off the drunkenness so I could go find Lily.

"Hannah Martin," a male voice said behind me. I whipped my head around, startled by the sudden interaction. Kyle stood directly behind me, nearly touching me. 

"Kyle Spencer," I replied, too drunk to think of a witty response. He smiled and laughed a bit, casting his eyes down at his shoes. "I missed you in class today," I slurred. "I had to tell you something."

"Oh yeah? What was that?" he asked, raising one eyebrow and smirking. 

"My poem. The teacher liked it," I explained. "Thanks." I wasn't very eloquent in this impaired state. I shifted away from the fire, feeling I had started to sweat a bit from its heat. A person immediately shifted into my former spot. It was nearly impossible to breathe, let alone move around.

"Oh, I'm glad," Kyle smiled. "I gotta make up that quiz."

"No school talk," I groaned, placing a hand on his bicep. "I'm not in my right mind right now."

The crowd in the yard shifted, causing people to begin to bump into each other. The person standing next to me stepped back into me, bumping into my arm. Losing my footing, I stumbled into Kyle, nearly pulling him over. His drink collided with my chest, the cup's entire contents spilling down my dress. All I could do was laugh.

 "I should not have had that last beer," I chuckled, steadying myself with my hand flat on Kyle's chest.

"Oh shit, Hannah, I'm so sorry," he gushed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm cool," I giggled, bending over slightly.

"God, come inside," he muttered, grabbing me by my shoulders and turning me around to face the house. "Let's go." He guided my drunken form through the crowded backyard all the way to the back door of the KLG house. 

"Aw damn, Spencer's gettin' some," the guy guarding the door shouted stupidly. "Hot piece 'a ass you got here."

"Shut up and let us in, Dan," Kyle snapped, still holding me by my shoulders. The guy, whose name was apparently Dan, stepped aside, allowing Kyle to open the door and guide me in.

We walked through the kitchen, dining room, and living room to get to the foyer, where I was met with the now-familiar steps up to his room. They would prove to be a challenge this time, though. Kyle held my arm as we made the trek up the steep stairs. It felt like we had been walking for hours.

Finally, in Kyle's bedroom, I could gather my bearings. So much had happened in such a short span of time. And how the fuck did I find myself in Kyle Spencer's bedroom two nights in a row? I sat on the floor and gripped the carpet tightly, feeling the fibers between my fingers. The world spun. I held the carpet tighter so I wouldn't fall off the Earth. 

Kyle rummaged through his dresser and turned, having found a large t-shirt for me.

"I know you're in a dress," he noted, "but I think this should be big enough to act like one."

"I wear shorts under my dresses," I slurred, screwing my eyes shut.

"Oh, okay, that's good," he muttered. He tossed the shirt toward me. It landed with a fwump to my right. "Change into it. I feel so bad, you're soaked."

I looked down at myself. He was right. The entire front of my outfit was drenched with whatever Kyle had in his red solo cup. Without a thought, I shrugged my cardigan off and tugged my dress over my head, leaving me in just my spandex shorts and a bra. I watched as Kyle paused, for a moment, almost as if he couldn't look away. His cheeks turned a bright pink before he averted his gaze respectfully. I slipped the soft t-shirt over my body.

"You can look now," I said, smartly. Kyle turned and smiled at me kindly. He stepped over to me and extended a hand.

"Please, at least sit on my couch," he pleaded. "It's comfortable, I promise."

I grabbed his hand and let him help me up. Both of us settled down on the couch, which was rather big for the size of the room. I pulled my legs up, hugging my knees tight to my chest. "Thanks, Kyle," I murmured.

"You're in bad shape, huh?" he replied.

"I don't remember the last time I was this drunk," I admitted, sobering a bit. 

"It's okay, it happens."

"Why weren't you in class today?" I asked after a beat, a bit more bluntly than I had intended. Kyle shifted in his seat a bit uncomfortably.

"It's a pretty long story, Hannah," he replied lowly. "Everything's okay, though. Gave me more time to get ready for tonight, right?" I didn't reply. Instead, I put my head back on the couch. The action took the pressure off my heavy head. The music continued to play loudly outside, the bass shaking the house.

Kyle stood abruptly. "Do you need anything?" he asked, standing over me.

"I'm fine." I covered my face with my arm, burying it in the crook of my elbow.

"I'll be right back, okay? Don't move," he instructed. I heard his footsteps get further from me, the door open, then shut, and the lock latch. I uncovered my eyes and looked around, alone in Kyle's room. The noise outside hadn't subsided. It seemed this party might go all night.

It was supposed to be a small gathering between two Greek organizations and turned into an all-out rager. Pretty typical Kappa Lambda Gamma activities, honestly. 

Only a few minutes passed before Kyle burst back into the room, water bottle in hand. The whirlwind with which he entered only made my head spin more.

"Drink this," he said, handing me the open water. I did as he said as he rejoined me on the couch. "Are you okay?"

"I am," I answered, sitting forward on the edge of my seat. "I really should go, though."

"Do you have a ride?" Kyle asked, sitting up slightly. "I can't let you go back out there alone like this."

"I should find my friend," I insisted.

"I think you should stay here and text her," he countered. "Agree on a place to meet. Where's your phone?"

That was a good question. I remembered leaving it somewhere, but I couldn't quite place where. Kyle must have seen the concern flash across my face because he put a hand on my shoulder. 

"It's okay, Hannah, I can find it," he assured me. I flopped back and turned my head to face him, looking into his deep brown eyes. He looked at me with pity. Before I could stop myself, I leaned over and rested my forehead on his right shoulder. 

It must have been a reflex. Kyle responded by rubbing my head with his free hand. I sighed and relaxed into his touch, feeling all too tired all too suddenly. 

Previous Part | Next Part

[10bendog]

I've been working on how the island of Townsville is gonna look in Sea 'n City (my Cartoon Network crossover AU) (same one I used for CN Akumas).

This is a work in progress elevation map of the main island and the smaller one to the north-west.

So, this is primarily the FusionFall map and you can tell pretty easily. I mean, it's was kinda already peak world design, so of course I'mma use it as a base for my version of Townsville. I have moved some things around, changed some stuff and added some more, but overall this is supposed to feel like the FusionFall world.

The Darklands are basically one to one, except Fuse is gone now in canon, so all his infection is cleared up.

The Suburbs are also mostly unchanged, apart from being higher up than Downtown. Also, the Sector V area is now above the Cul-de-Sac because I like it better this way.

The Wilds are decently different. Mount. Blackhead and the Magic Tree are moved, Leaky Lake is much larger, as it should be and the canyon is also quite a bit longer. The Pimpleback mountains are more show accurate. I added a bunch of stuff like more rivers, a large dam, a jungle plateau, volcanic hot springs to the north, a snowy mountain-range to south and a narrow path along said mountain-range that connects the Nowhere neighborhood to (what I've so creatively named) Downtown 2.

But before I get to that, I gotta mention OG Downtown, which has been elongated for convenience to make a longer beachfront, add extra stuff in the new space when I eventually get to drawing up the streets and buildings, and also add enough space for a mandatory airport to the west. Some areas from FusionFall will be reworked like City Hall and Townsville Center will become the streets from the CN City bumpers, Marquee Row - into the park from the Summer 2005 bumpers, Townsville Park - into the the large park from Ben 10, the unused skull island from the game - into a very tall offshore prison, etc. Also, the large cliff to the south has some houses at the base of it and Jasmine Lee lives a little further to the peak, similar to the cartoon.

A channel separates Downtown and Downtown 2, but there'll be a large bridge that connects them when I eventually add the streets. This is supposed to mimic certain depictions of Bellwood, Orchid Bay, Endsville and whatever the city Sector V lives in is called. Downtown 2 itself is a lot less fleshed out in my head atm, mostly because it's not from FusionFall, so there's no base to work from. There are 2 things I kept in mind when making it: 1 - Half of the location from The Big Picture Show are here (the waterfall, the swamp, the cliff and Mondo A-Go Go), and 2 - PPG's Tiny Tokyo is also here.

That's about my notes on this for now. Hope it makes sense.

IDK when I'll continue working on this map. Sea 'n City is a very "in the back" project for me. It's here for the long run, basically.

I guess it really depends on when motivation and inspiration whack me over the head to draw up the streets 'n stuff, but for now I have other projects at the forefront to attend to.

P.S. If you happen to be rereading CN Akumas, idk if this map will make more sense or less. I came up with the airport location and the island prison before I started writing CN Akumas, but I added the jungle plateau, the hot springs and the whole of Downtown 2 after I finished that story, so they aren't featured there at all.

[justaduckarts]

A Look At Next Year

I know that we are literally only halfway through December, but I will be travelling for the holidays to see my family, so I wanted to go ahead and get this sort of technical type post out of the way.

Here you will find details about plans for next year’s projects! 

This includes: Upload schedules, goals, and projects I plan to start next year! :)

Long Post Ahead

Current Projects

Dirty Night Clowns: Uploads every Sunday and Wednesday, chapters generally avg at 4k words (but can be as long as 10k if that’s what the pacing demands). 

One Who Holds A Star (Star Holder AU): Plan to upload at least once a week, I’m thinking Tuesday or Thursday... Maybe Friday. Word count goal? As long as it’s at least 1k we’re gravy. (But we should try for 2-3k)

Help! I’m Trapped In a Fanfiction: This will continue to upload sporadically, as I have to be in a certain mood to write the silly stuff. No word count goal, this project is just something to make myself (and others) laugh.

Project Goals: 

Finish DNC before the summer. Assuming the story doesn’t shift dramatically, I suspect it will end up being right around 50 Chapters. 

Finish Star Holder. I can’t imagine it will take the WHOLE YEAR to write the story. It will probably be pretty long, but I think we can do it. 

Figure out where the hell H!ITIAF! is going...

New Projects: 

Outlining some projects in my drafts/WIPS that I would like to start sharing next year! 

Project: Personal Care Unit: This is an idea I have for a series of shorter fics all set in the same universe. A Personal Care Unit (hereafter referred to as PCU) is an animatronic designated to care for one who needs care. This can be anything from a little extra help around the house to aiding people with disabilities etc. etc. 

Glass Walls and Study Samples: This story actually has 20 chapters already drafted that I wrote in like August but I hit a wall and I want to heavily revise the story before I begin sharing. Here’s the concept: You know how people often write fanfics where the DCAs are strange creatures that Y/N discovers or is studying? Well, what if Y/N was a little space explorer? What if they went to a planet they’d been told had no sentient life? What if that planet DID have sentient life? What if YOU were the strange creature captured for study? What if you fell in love with the scientists that were studying you anyway? :) (This story might contain spice, I’m on the fence)

Pluto Initiative: This is actually something I’ve got a few pages outlined for already. It’s my hope to eventually make a short comic that introduces my DCA OC Pluto! The comic would explore her story as an animatronic learning about things like friendship, love, and what makes a person good or bad. I won’t give away too much, but I will say that the story isn’t a romance and I actually don’t ship Pluto with the boys. Her character arc is very important to me and I hope to portray it well. This comic will probably have some horror elements. :) 

Miscellaneous Goals:

Try to draw one thing a week! This can be related to any of my projects.

Oh my gosh please learn to pace yourself :) 

Finish sewing that Sunny Plush. 

Start the Moom plush :) 

Get caught back up on my fanfic bookmarks so I can shower all my moots and favorite writers with love <3 

Make more fanart for all the incredible AUs and fanfics I’ve read. 

Find people who will just yell with me about the DCA boys (and possibly their OCs and mine) 

Participate in an art/writing event! 

I think that just about covers everything that I have cooking or hope to accomplish. It’s going to be a year. I look forward to next year! Thank you guys so much for all your support and I hope you’ll stick with me for even more in the future!