#and the customers hate discord's fucking guts right now
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I hate that the intended recipient of discord's feedback page will never see the actual messages. I feel like the company would respond faster to complaints if the higher-ups were the ones reading through everyone's unbridled rage instead of some poor intern.
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A Date for the Holidays (and everyday too would be nice)
Summary: Tired of the constant backlash from her family about being single, Emma finds herself striking an arrangement with a roguishly handsome stranger at the mall the day after Christmas. Now she won't have to be alone for the holidays. Emma and Killian agree to be each other's dates, no strings attached, no commitment, no pressure. Just two friends getting together to appease her annoying family and get his brother off his back. It's the perfect setup really...until sticking to the holidays isn't enough. What happens when they both want more?
A/N: So I watched the Holidate the other night and couldn't stop thinking about how much fun it would be to turn this into a CS fic. So here we are. This probably won't be too long, I'll be getting back to my wips soon, just needed a break, but probably 4 or 5 chapters or so. Hope you enjoy! Thank you to the ladies on Discord for your encouragement and enabling ;-)
Thank you to the lovely @veryverynotgood for beta reading and at the last second! You rock!
Catch up: Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10 // Ch 11
Chapter 1
The Arrangement
Emma hates Christmas.
Actually, she hates all holidays, but she especially hates Christmas.
No, hate is too kind a word. She detests Christmas.
She detests the expectations that always accompany this stupid sham of a holiday. Having to dress up, because if she wears jeans and a t-shirt, her mother greets her at the door with, “This is what you wear to Christmas dinner? Don’t you even own a dress?” instead of asking how she’s doing. Having to plaster on a fake smile, even though she’s completely miserable and dying inside, otherwise her father will ask her, “Why the long face, princess?” Not to mention the entire ridiculous gift giving-process—racking her brain for months, trying to figure out what to get everyone, waiting until the last minute and having to fight the crowds of other last-minute shoppers and standing in ridiculously long lines to buy gifts no one ever appreciates, anyway.
Oh, and her very favorite thing about Christmas—receiving backlash for being single, because apparently, it’s a crime these days.
“Why didn’t you call Walsh?” Emma’s cousin, Anna, asked, to which her husband, Kristoff, added, “He seems like a nice guy.” Maybe, but only if you’re a customer at Wizard of Oak.
“It’s been six months since that jerk cheated on you; you gotta get out there,” said Elsa, who lost her husband three years ago and hasn't been on a single date since then. But she has two kids, so she's off the hook.
And her own brother, Leo, teased her— “You know it’s a holiday when my sister shows up alone”—right before he proposed to his girlfriend of five months. Their parents are so unbelievably proud.
Which is just fucking perfect because now Emma's the only person in her family who either isn’t married or doesn’t have kids.
Even her Aunt Rubes didn’t show up at Christmas alone; she brought home the mall Santa.
“You’d be surprised by the quality of men you can meet at the mall,” Aunt Ruby said with a Cheshire cat grin.
Emma cocked her head and pursed her lips as she watched Ruby’s date fill his plate to the brim like he hadn’t eaten in days. But judging by the size of his gut, he clearly had. “I don’t think I would be, actually.”
Aunt Ruby rolled her eyes. “Relax, it’s not like I’m going to marry him. He’s just my holidate,” she said casually, taking a sip of her wine as though she didn’t just say the most ridiculous thing ever.
Emma raised her brows. “Holidate?”
“You know? A date solely for the holidays. No commitment, no expectations. And no more spending another holiday alone.”
“Huh.” Emma nursed her hot cocoa with cinnamon and whipped cream, mulling over her aunt’s tactics. She didn’t think it was a bad idea, actually...if you wanted to bring a strange man home to eat all your food and be around the little ones.
Aunt Ruby turned her head to look at Emma and smirked, her eyes lighting up with an idea. “Want me to see if he has a friend?”
Emma cringed. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
And it turns out, being thirty doesn’t help much either.
In fact, now everyone has it in their heads she’s letting herself go. Okay, so she likes to binge on chocolate and junk food, but she’s always had a high metabolism and her job as a bail-bonds woman keeps her in shape. But apparently, her mother thinks being thirty means everything Emma eats will go to her hips, because why else would the woman buy her pajama pants twice as big as last year’s?
So now Emma’s at the mall the day after Christmas to return clothes that could fit a freaking whale, not looking forward to waiting in a long line of people trying to return their unwanted gifts, or fighting with the manager about getting a refund instead of an exchange since she doesn’t have a receipt or the tags.
Damn.
Emma can already see the line at JC Penny as she rises on her tiptoes and clutches the PJs to her chest, trying to see over the throng of people.
She huffs and makes her way over to the customer service line, not even caring if she bumps into anyone; she just wants to get this over with so she can go back to her comfortable, messy apartment, change into pajama pants that won’t fall from her waist, sip on hot cocoa and snack on all the candy and treats she pocketed from her parents’ house at Christmas.
“Son of a bitch!” The word tumbles from her mouth when someone not only crashes right into her but also spills their green juice all over her blouse.
“Bloody hell, love. I’m so sorry.”
The deep, velvety accent probably would’ve made her melt and set her skin ablaze if the beverage wasn’t so fucking cold.
And if that’s not bad enough, when she lifts her pajama pants to assess the damage, there’s juice all over the clothes she was supposed to return.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” When she lowers the clothes in her arms, her head snaps up and her angry eyes connect with the most ridiculously gorgeous blues she’s ever seen in her entire life, and some of the anger sizzling in her blood magically disappears and morphs into pure shock, her mouth falling open as the obscenities disappear from her lips.
Holy. Fuck.
Dark, artfully mussed hair, scruff on his chin and cheeks, chiseled jaw.
And his eyes. Those eyes seem to be tracing every inch of her, and her skin heats under his gaze.
And is he really checking out her boobs?
Seriously?
He’s handsome, though; she’ll give him that. No, handsome doesn’t adequately describe him.
Gorgeous.
Beautiful.
Greek god.
Nope, she definitely isn’t attracted to him.
Absolutely not.
“Crap, how am I going to return these now?” she asks, irritation lacing her words as she holds up the ugly flannel pajama pants.
An amused smile flirts with his lips, his eyes full of mirth—the same eyes that are still awkwardly staring at her chest, blush coloring his cheeks.
Like, what the fuck?
He looks up, his eyes searching around as he throws the empty cup into the nearest trash. He places his hands on her arms, making her breath hitch as he lifts her arms, pressing them against her chest.
“I think you have bigger problems to worry about than returning your pajamas.” He places his hand on her back, once again making her breath catch as he urges her forward.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s called trust, love. Try it.”
She sighs and moves in the direction he’s taking her toward. “But I don’t even know you.”
“I don't know you either. And yet I’m trying to help you out. But you’re more than welcome to walk around the mall like that.”
“Like what?” Her brows are furrowed in confusion as she peers down at herself. Her eyes blow wide and her cheeks flame when she realizes she’s wearing a white t-shirt with no bra and her nipples are poking out underneath the layer of green. “Oh my God.”
When they reach the restrooms, he pulls off his black leather jacket and plaid overshirt, offering the shirt to her. “Here, take this.”
She eagerly accepts it, and the man takes her pajama pants, holding them while Emma enters the ladies’ room. When she looks in the mirror, her jaw drops to the floor. She looks like Shrek with tits. She dashes into a stall, peels off her green shirt and cleans up before pulling on the plaid and buttoning up over her bare breasts. She tosses the green shirt into the trash and exits the bathroom, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “What the hell? Why can’t you watch where you’re going?” she asks, taking her pants back and walking away from him.
He follows behind her and falls into step beside her. “I said I was sorry, love. But you ran right into me before I could move out of the way.” He chuckles. “You were pretty determined to get to that return line.”
“Yeah, well, you should move quicker next time.”
He nods. “You’re right. Next time I see a beautiful woman marching toward her destination with fire and determination in her eyes, I’ll roll out the red carpet.” He mocks her with a bow, flourishing his hands. “All hail the Queen.”
“You’re funny,” she says sarcastically. “But that will not fix my pants or pay for the shirt I just threw in the trash.”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “How much were they? I’ll pay for them.”
“I’m not taking your money. I’m not that desperate for cash.”
“Says the woman returning her Christmas gifts.”
She scowls at him. “How do you know I got them for Christmas?”
“It’s either that or you stole them from a lumberjack.”
She snort-laughs. “Well, thanks for having faith that I wouldn’t stoop that low.”
“You’re welcome, love. So, if I can’t pay for the clothes I ruined, then how can I make it up to you?”
She looks around, her eyes lighting up when she spots the pretzel stand, “You can buy me a pretzel.”
He chuckles, obviously amused all she wants is a soft pretzel. But it doesn’t take much to make her happy.
They get in line, and he orders her a pretzel, not even getting one for himself.
“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” she offers once they leave the pretzel stand.
He raises a hand in refusal and shakes his head as he tucks his wallet inside his back pocket. “Nah, I don’t eat that rubbish. Do you know what that stuff does to your body?”
“Uh, yeeeeaaaah.” She pops a small bite of the soft cinnamon-coated goodness into her mouth as they walk around the mall. “It fills me with warm, delicious happiness like Christmas used to...before I grew up. Ironically enough, I still sit at the kids' table.”
He arches his brow at her. “How come?”
“So I don’t have to constantly be ridiculed for being single while trying to stuff my face with turkey.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Oh, it gets worse. Let’s see, my brother, who’s ten years younger than me, proposed to his girlfriend, so now I’m literally the only one in my family who is either single or doesn’t have children. Even my aunt, who is a self-described man-eater, had a date for Christmas. In fact, I caught her getting her cookie licked by the mall Santa.”
He clears his throat like he’s trying to clear the image she implanted in his head. “That’s a festive visual.”
Her face twists as she takes another bite of her pretzel. “Seared into my brain like a bad tattoo.”
“You think your Christmas was bad. Try wearing an ugly Christmas sweater while selling bait and lure to men on Christmas who have nothing better to do than go ice fishing and tell a complete stranger their entire life story and the best way to clean fish guts off a boat.”
“That doesn’t sound half bad, actually. If I worked on Christmas, I wouldn’t have to be reminded of how single I am, and every single person in my family wouldn't be trying to set me up with someone.”
“I’d rather spend Christmas with family and sit by the fireplace watching Christmas movies.”
Emma looks at him curiously. “How come you don’t then?”
“Because I don’t have much family to spend the holidays with. Just my brother. Our parents died when we were young.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Guilt washes over her as she realizes she’s been complaining about her family and how lonely she feels when his only family is his brother.
“Thanks, love. I just wish I had an excuse to not have to work on the holidays.”
“Why do you need an excuse?”
“Because my brother’s the owner, and he runs a tight ship. He says if I don’t have any plans, I have to work.”
“Your brother sounds like a pain in the ass,” she groans, tearing off a piece of her pretzel.
“You have no idea.”
“So why don’t you just make something up then?”
He shrugs. “And do what? Sit at the bar and drink my sorrows away?”
“You could find a date,” Emma suggests, as though it’s an obvious solution. But she knows more than anyone, finding someone who’s not a complete tool like her ex is not as easy as it sounds. But maybe that’s just her experience. This guy looks like he probably has hundreds of women lined up at his door. Not all of them may be gems, but his odds are most likely better than hers.
“With whom? I don’t have a girlfriend, love,” he says, looking over at her bashfully, the tips of his ears red as he scratches behind one of them.
She swats his shoulder. “Oh, come on. A good-looking guy like you can’t get a date?” She regrets her words as soon as she says them, knowing he might let them go to his head. But who’s she kidding? He definitely knows how good he looks—the guy has to have a mirror.
The cocky smirk he flashes her as he jabs a finger at his chest tells her he definitely knows. “I am devilishly handsome. But I don’t want to find a girlfriend solely for the purpose of not having to work on the holidays.”
“You could get a holidate.” The words spill out of her mouth before she even realizes what she’s saying. But she recalls her aunt in a similar situation—not wanting to have a boyfriend just so she won’t have to be single for the holidays.
“A holidate?”
“Yeah, like a date for the holidays. No pressure...no expectations. Just two people having an enjoyable time and drunk-mocking strangers at parties.”
His eyes light up and he points at her. “I do like drunk-mocking strangers at parties. But who would I get to be my holidate?”
Emma shrugs a little and throws her pretzel wrapper into the nearest trash. “What about me?” She can’t believe she’s offering, but it’s actually the perfect solution to both their problems.
He turns around to face her, arching a brow. “Really? You’d be my holidate?”
“Why not? I mean, think about it. You’ll get to go out and have fun instead of being miserable at work, and I won’t have to walk into a room and be showered in a sea of pity and sad glances. I mean, why does everyone have to be so suspicious about a happy, single woman?!”
“Because you’re not happy.”
“Um, yes I am.” She plasters on a smile and points at the corner of her lips. “See? Happy.”
“No, you’re not.”
She narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “And how would you know?”
“Because you’re an open book, love.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Human beings aren’t meant to be alone on the holidays. They need warmth and companionship and someone to drunk-mock strangers at parties.”
She laughs and nods in agreement. He does have a good point. And she has to admit, she’d love to have a New Year kiss, just not one with any strings attached. She’d like to kiss someone at New Year and then go home alone and not have to worry about what will happen next or if he’ll cheat on her three months down the road. “Look, my parents got me tickets to the Skyfall party on New Year’s Eve and if I don’t find a date, my mother is going to find one for me.”
“Really?” He cocks a brow at her, his eyes shining with intrigue. “That’s such a fun party. And it’d be nice to go and have a few drinks, relax and not have to worry about my date going batshit crazy if I don’t drop a knee at midnight.”
“Exactly. We could just have fun and not have to worry about all the relationship stuff.”
“That’s good because I’m not looking for a relationship.”
Disappointment bubbles up inside her, but she pushes it away. Even if she wanted or needed a relationship, she wouldn’t go for a guy like him. He’s too damn handsome to not be a heartbreaker. “Neither am I,” she states matter-of-factly, never taking her eyes off his.
“Well, then it’s perfect. You’ve got yourself a date,” he says with a grin and extends his hand. “I’m Killian, by the way.”
She smiles a little and slips her palm in his. But instead of shaking it, he brings the back of her hand to his lips and drops a kiss there. Her damn breath hitches again when she feels how warm his lips are and how tingly and inflamed her skin is from his touch. “Emma,” she forces out breathily as she tries not to picture other things he could do with those lips. And she is not envisioning him licking her cookie.
Nope, definitely not.
“Pleasure to meet you, Emma.” He releases her hand, leaving her immediately missing his warmth as he pulls out his wallet and slips out a card, handing it to her. “Here’s my info, love.”
Emma’s eyes narrow when she sees where he works. “Hooked Bait & Tackle.” She looks up at him. “Sounds fishy,” she quips. “What’s your real job?”
He chuckles. “Text me and we’ll finalize the details.”
She flicks the card against her palm. “See you on New Year’s Eve, Captain Hook.”
He winks. “See you then, love.”
As soon as Emma turns around and walks away, her cheeks heat and she peers down, suddenly remembering she’s wearing his shirt. She spins around and calls after him as he walks away.
“Wait, your shirt!” Which is dumb because it’s not like she has anything to change into.
He turns around and grins. “You can give it back on New Year’s Eve!”
“Okay!”
They wave at each other before Emma turns around, pausing as she passes a store with a mannequin in a sexy black dress. She bites her bottom lip, realizing she has nothing to wear to this party.
She enters the store and tries it on, skeptical of how she’ll look in it. It’s usually hard for her to find dresses that actually look good on her, but when she tries on the gorgeous black number, she loves the sweetheart neckline and how good it makes her cleavage look. Her ass doesn’t look too bad in the dress, either. She wonders what Killian’s reaction will be when he sees her in it, wonders if it will make those gorgeous blue eyes pop out of his skull. She smirks into the mirror as she turns to her side, placing her hand on her hip.
“Sexy black dress it is.”
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lee chaeyoung / isa, bisexual, cis woman + she / her ― hey look, it’s bora lim! she’s twenty-one years old, she’d lived in shrike heights for a month, and she’s currently working at daniela’s salon. i heard she’s pretty opinionated, but i think she’s so charismatic at the same time. can she make it out alive?
tw; extremely brief mention of domestic abuse
bora lim –– lee chaeyoung / isa fc
nicknames: give her nicknames pls
birthday: january 1st, 1966 - 21 yrs old ; capricorn
cis woman, she/her, bisexual
born in brooklyn, new york.
backstory!
bora’s mother wanted her youngest child, and only daughter, to be nothing short of prim and proper. and all her life, as much as she hated it, the young girl went along with it; going by her parents’ very traditional and outdated rules for her own personal safety. unlike her oldest brother, she hated every bit of it. and unlike her second oldest brother, she knew how to keep it together and go with the flow for her survival in a house where their parents weren’t afraid of using extreme methods of discipline behind closed doors.
bora was calm, collected, and despite being so restricted by rules, she did things her own way. she was a straight A student, especially in subjects that her peers hated. physics and chemistry were things she especially excelled at. although her teachers would accuse her of cheating on her tests because she was skipping classes whenever she felt like it. bora would respond saying that it wasn’t that hard for her to catch up. she had a talent for learning quickly, anyways.
bora had a hard time being close to anyone in her family. she had a tendency of pretending to like her cousins or other family members just for the sake of keeping her ‘good girl’ reputation going. the only person in her family that she truly got along with was her second oldest brother. the two shared secrets, had a similar sense of humor, and they even talked about how they both wanted to leave and live freely somewhere else. the latter happened for him pretty soon, and he was away in california without taking bora with him. of course, she was upset about it at first, but she understood after a while. especially when he kept in contact and visited brooklyn sometimes.
behind her polished facade, bora had a plan, and she needed to get on with it as soon as she turned eighteen. she was sick of living like this. she had a lot of money saved up; courtesy of her parents giving her a few big bills whenever she said she didn’t have any lunch money. she could admit that as the youngest child, she was a bit spoiled. her dad could barely say no if she pouted. but even with that, her parents still preferred her oldest brother over the other two siblings, who didn’t get as much attention and love as he did. during that time, bora she was packing up her things slowly but surely, keeping her bags hidden away until the day came for her escape.
no one could’ve seen it coming. bora was seen and known as the family’s “good girl” who was always on her best behavior. she was even expected to start working in her family’s business after majoring in one of the best universities in new york. but when everyone woke up, she was nowhere to be found. her things and her car had disappeared as well. her mother insisted on filing her as missing, but nothing could be done, because she was technically an adult now, and it was evident that she deliberately left on her own.
it has been 4 years of moving around from city to city. bora kept staying with friends and in random motels here and there, or apartment buildings, that is if she decided to stay longer in a town or city. she eventually made her way to colorado. this wasn’t her ideal place, especially when compared to where she grew up; a big bustling city like new york, but she liked the contrast. it was different, and it made her feel calm to know that she was away from any place that her family expected her to be at. she decided to stay longer in the town of shrike heights, and rent a small apartment to live at for now while she worked as a nail artist at daniela’s salon in shrike mall.
her next goal? she has no idea. but she didn’t expect her little adventure to include deaths left and right, and being scared for her life.
headcanons !
bora is a good actress. she could lie to you for her own gain, and a lot of the time people didn’t even realize it.
she is into astrophysics, and as much as she would’ve loved to study for it in university, she never had the time for it. other than studying from books she borrowed from several libraries around the country, or some of the books she owns herself.
speaking of studying, she was the smartest out of her siblings. she loved reading and educating herself about new things she was interested in. if she got into something, she’d invest so much time into learning all about it.
the name bora means purple in korean, and you could only imagine how much she loves the color. her wardrobe consists of a lot of lilacs.
you’ll never catch her slipping! she always wants to look good, even without any makeup on.
she KNOWS she looks good
she’s a bit cold and opinionated, and can hold grudges, but for the most part, she’s pretty chill and doesn’t give a fuck about a lot of things. rly doesn’t have time for anyone’s bullshit
although the first impression of her might make her seem mean or like she thinks highly of herself, she really isn’t. shes nice unless you provoke her, then she won’t let you live it down
she has a soft spot for shyer/quieter ppl :(
the whole thing with the killers is scaring her, and she’s This close to leaving again. the only thing keeping her in town right now is her shortage of money and the need to save some of it again
connections ?
roommates: bora might be smart with money, but she still can’t really afford to live on her own for long. it would be cool if anyone accepted a call for a roommate that she would’ve put up
exes: i love me some good spicy sad plots. maybe someone who broke her heart and she hates their guts now ?? these two could’ve met and dated somewhere else and are now running into each other again in town
neighbors: someone who probably complained about how loud bora’s music is at night lool. or someone she met when she first moved to town and they’re either friends now or don’t like each other. im here for anything !
customers: bora is a nail artist at daniela’s salon ! it would be cool if she had regulars she got along with, and who always come to her because they preferred her work over other artists
someone she tutors! she’s p good at stuff like science and math subjects, and she wouldn’t mind teaching someone if they pay her lol
if anyone has any other ideas for connections you’d like and see them fitting for your character and bora, i would love to hear them ! hmu on discord if you’d like to plot !
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The one where Jingyan gets a Tramp Stamp
Don’t look at me - this is a Langya Hall friends episode, brought to you by Discord chat, my sad attempts at crack and humour, and Lin Shu not being subtle in any fucking way. Be warned for historical inaccuracy and utter trash.
Lin Shu knows he likes Jingyan. I mean, in a very cousin brother-ly, best friend-ly way, hugging tight while bedding down together every night-ly way of course. Some say that he should protect the Seventh Prince in a liege-servant-ly way as well, but fuck their entrenched ideas of hierarchy.
Jingyan is a strong boy, he doesn’t need any protecting. (Except from Nihuang and Dong-jie and Auntie Jing who can hand all the boys their asses on a shining, golden platter and their victims will still say thank you afterwards.)
But as they grow older, Lin Shu finds his notions of ‘Jingyan doesn’t need protecting’ increasingly challenged. It particularly perplexes him once Jingyan’s voice breaks - because even though the seventh prince is still gangly and pimply - men and women start flocking to him like he’s the last tasty morsel on this planet. Women start dropping their hastily-embroidered handkerchieves around Jingyan, and men start listening to Jingyan’s boring discourses with rapt attention, inching ever closer to him, till one offensive asshole is almost in Jingyan’s lap one day and Lin Shu almost bursts a vein and a pimple reigning in his anger.
(It’s that annoying, slutty Lin Chen who is visiting the Lin Manor with his dad - and Lin Shu hates all of him just as much as he likes Jingyan. The flowing hair and the flowing sword movements - and the rather unsubtle gestures with his tongue and cheeks and hands which imply...pleasurable activities he wants to undertake with Lin Shu’s Jingyan - which is never going to be possible because Lin Shu would roast Lin Chen slowly over a fire if he ever got that close to Jingyan.
But Lin Chen did get that close to Jingyan, and Lin Shu almost killed him before he remembered his dad and Uncle Lin would whoop his ass. Lin Shu likes his ass very much, thank you, it’s a good cushion for Jingyan’s legs to rest at night when he wraps them around Lin Shu while bedding down together.)
Lin Shu manages to only put an itching powder in Lin Chen’s bath and fend off all the men with the butt of his sword, but there is only so much a Young Marshal like himself can do about the rest of the fanboys and and girls.
So he spreads rumours of Jingyan having horrible ailments, diseases of the skin, the genitals, nasty warts and a crude disposition. The bride/husband price for an Imperial Prince soon goes waaaaaay below average, but there are still people thirsty enough to lust after Jingyan - mainly because of that fucking velvet, suddenly-erupted baritone voice, and somewhat because an Imperial Prince will still be rolling in cash.
Lin Shu cannot take this. He thought he had all his bases covered when it came to keeping Jingyan’s virtue intact. He even slept and bathed and dressed with Jingyan for god’s sake, so sneaky interlopers like that itchy Lin Chen could not intrude on Jingyan’s personal space. It was at this time, Lin Shu decided it was time for a more permanent solution.
I mean, if he somehow marked Jingyan with something that would keep all these suitors away - a light scar on Jingyan’s face would be painful and excessive, maybe some mark across his chest or hands? Some kind of lettering just like in all the painful, somewhat porny soulmate AU reworkings of popular novels sold at seedy bookstores?
*Boom* That’s when an idea clicked in the mind of the extremely well-read (in porn, at least) Young Marshal Lin Shu. Lettering, a mark - it would not be something the Great Confucius would like - injuring the body your parents would give you. It was only done to criminals and slaves - and sometimes by the ladies and gentlemen of the night for better eyebrows and lips, but a tattoo would solve all of Lin Shu’s problems! Jingyan would bear this mark forever, and everyone who tried to get close to him would know not to mess with Young Marshal Lin Shu’s property.
Wait, Lin Shu wondered, When did he consider Jingyan his property? (Ever since you tried to eat Jingyan by biting on his cheeks at Age two and called him ‘mine’ of course, you idiot). The Emperor would be furious if he ever found out and probably charge even his favourite nephew with treason for daring to call an Imperial Prince his property. Lin Shu wonders for a wild moment if he should wait till Jingyu-ge becomes Emperor (so that he would only be maybe flogged a 100 times and lose feeling in that butt that warmed Jingyan’s legs) - maybe offing his Uncle gently and early would help? Nah, still treason and heartbreak for Jingyan - out of the question, then.
Wait - would Jingyan even agree to this madness in the first place, Lin Shu realised? Sure, he was destroying any hopes for any future possible consorts but Jingyan always went with whatever Lin Shu said - even destroying his principles of brotherly piety when Lin Shu had poured dung into Jingxuan and Jinghuan’s shoes for calling Jingyu-ge a fool. (Although Jingyan’s face may have turned redder than his robes and he may have sniffed back a tear because he liked being irritatingly righteous, not underhanded.)
Exasperated, Lin Shu realised he had too many questions and doubts. The problem of being the most radiant boy in Jinling came with the natural problem he tended to overthink things. Lin Shu thought of applying the great strategic books he had read to this case, but ultimately got distracted by his sordid novels. Again. So he decided to follow the simplest route.
Jingyan was his - at least in all the ways that was not spousely duties. So Lin Shu would use a caveman approach - knock Jingyan over the head (with an intoxicant) and ask him for his opinion on having Lin Shu’s name written on any part of his body. Sober!Jingyan would probably beat Lin Shu for hours, and lovingly tend to his injuries for days. Lightweight Drunk!Jingyan however, liked spilling his guts, both literally and figuratively.
This was a plan. A very good plan.
This was not a very good plan, Lin Shu realised, as a handsy and drunk Imperial Prince was draping himself all over Lin Shu’s body at the ‘House of Entertainment’ the Young Marshal had dragged him to. They were sitting in public view of many other young noblemen and women, glaring daggers at the clearly not-diseased Prince living his life in his best friend’s arms, singing bawdy love songs in his hot voice, to no proper accompaniments, interrupting the graceful dancers who were just giggling in a corner.
If he was sober as well, Lin Shu would have picked up and carted Jingyan off on his back, but then he was not, and Jingyan would occasionally hotly whisper a line of said bawdy love song into Lin Shu’s ears, before suddenly changing tone and screeching the next line loudly to the angry audience. It made Lin Shu burn with anger because who had put such salacious innuendos and songs into Jingyan’s mouth? (It better not be that pretty Zhanying or that cursed Lin Chen, they would pay with their dicks). And how dare those sinful words make everything north and south of Lin Shu’s belly tingle and start to grow uncomfortably hard?
Lin Shu’s delightful ponderances and troubles, which were squirming deliciously in his lap, were interrupted by an unceremonious booting by large men outside the doors of the fine establishment - to loud curses from Lin Shu, of course. Wobbly, tingly and disoriented, with a craving-human-contact pimply-faced Imperial Prince to take care of, Lin Shu was pissed at himself. His plans never failed, but here they almost did. He half-carried, half-dragged the object of his ridiculous best friend-ly affections across the streets, finally flopping down near a questionable establishment for some noodles.
Jingyan fell asleep in his gently steaming bowl of broth. Lin Shu sighed, and took him to wash the vegetables out of his finely, silky imperial hair, that Lin Shu would comb and braid for Jingyan everyday. This.was.not.a.god.day.
“Xiao Shu,” Jingyan drawled in his drunken haze, “Xiao Shu, do you know you and I make a pearl? You’re my pearl and I’m your pearl. You’re my best pearl.”
A pearl? What was Xiao Jingyan getting at? Right now, Lin Shu was just a ball of half-drunk exasperation and self-loathing at his failed plans and sad he didn’t even ask the question that he needed to ask Jingyan.
“Xiao Shu, do you know we make pearls together? My Yan, and Your Shu. Xiao Shuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu....”
This Jingyan came with extra cuddliness, so he wrapped himself tight around Lin Shu’s abject failure and misery and made it all better, no matter the strands of greens in his hair. Sighing, Lin Shu jumped into the snuggle, and let his best friend’s words filter into his brain. Shu, Yan and a Pearl.
A bolt of lightning struck him! Of course! Of course! Why had he never thought of that? Lin Shu was the most brilliant boy of Jinling, and yet the biggest water-buffalo of Jinling had figured out this connection?
Dammnit, this was becoming a good plan again.
“Hey Yanyan, do you think...it’s a good idea to get a tattoo of our name on our bodies? That way everybody will know you belong to someone, and they won’t marry you! No treason as well.” Lin Shu’s reddened eyes glittered with mischief.
“Of course, my pearl. Anything you say.”
Success! Success! Success! Lin Shu was not a failboat!
But... where would one find such a place at this hour?
Lin Shu was not the luckiest boy in Jinling for nothing, for the second angry propietor of the day had come to find his errant customers doing questionable but brotherly things as he was assured, against a wall. He had heard their entire conversation - would they be interested in the ‘Ink Shop’ upstairs, run by his friend? Very discreet, he said. They even catered to spies!
This story is already long and winded-enough, so let me condense this part by telling you where Lin Shu and Jingyan walked up some stairs, found a woman with needles as sharp as her eyes, who gave them some strong alcohol to drink and drew a beautiful, lifelike pink pearl, floating in blue seas above Jingyan’s butt crack and marked an extra ‘Property of Zhu’ written above in red to make the fact more apparent. And no treason!
“My preciousssssssssssss.....pearl,” Lin Shu hisses with an odd emotion and drunken glee as he traces the lines on Jingyan’s hips, and the mistress of the shop looks at him with a mix of mirth and pity. (She later does get pissed though, when Lin Shu asks her for a discount because her fees are too expensive. She kicks them out of the shop after she wrenches out a jade pendant from his belt. Lin Shu wonders if he can recruit her for the army.)
Lin Shu’s plan is finally, excruciatingly accomplished.
Struggling, they somehow make it back to Jing Manor, where Jingyan wakes up with no memory of the previous night and a stinging pain on his lower back. Xiao Shu tells him they fell down some stairs, and then were stung by nettles. Jingyan rolls his eyes at the obviously tall tale, but lets Xiao Shu tend to him carefully over a few days, applying salves across places that made him tingle and blowing cool over it to soothe the skin. (Not to mention, Jingyan may secretly...like Xiao Shu giving him all this attention, especially after Lin Chen had offered to solve the problems of Jingyan’s heart using his Langya Hall analytical expertise and a year’s worth of Jingyan’s salary. Jingyan had felt sorry for the guy when he was itching-powdered by Xiao Shu, but fuck did the mercenary deserve it).
Jingyan doesn’t think much of it after the pain fades, and soon he is to be sent to Donghai. Months away from Xiao Shu, he rues.
“Bring me a pearl the size of a pigeon’s egg,” Xiao Shu asks, a ridiculous request and Jingyan colours because how dare Xiao Shu ask for a pearl so casually, doesn’t he know what it means to Jingyan?
Scared, Jingyan thinks if he blabbed something too much that drunken night. Naaah, Xiao Shu would never let him live it down. Ever. Jingyan would probably find his household decorated in pearls rather glaringly if Xiao Shu would realise why Jingyan liked pearls.
But anyway, Xiao Shu wants a pearl. In a few months, Jingyan will get it for him. And maybe he will tell Xiao Shu the meaning behind it as well. Maybe.
Lin Shu watches Jingyan depart in the early sunrise. He will be back, with fancy pearls! Yes! He can use it to replace the jade pendant on his belt, extracted by that mysterious Mistress of Ink.
He can’t wait for Jingyan to discover his tattoo, the fool. By the time he blows his top, Lin Shu will be far, far away. Well, at least then the world will know Xiao Jingyan with his gangly limbs and velvet voice is taken - he is Lin Shu’s property, in a cousin-brother-ly, best friend-ly way, of course.
*****
Jingyan doesn’t uncover the tattoo until two years after Chiyan, mainly because he was too heart-sick and full body bronze mirrors were luxuries in the battlefield. One day, he is injured across his back, and Zhanying and the doctor are shocked by the rather...indelicate declaration across the Prince’s body parts.
Jingyan is not shocked, but he becomes rather sad and bursts into tears.
Jingyan bursts into tears because of course, this has to be Lin Shu’s doing. He both loves and hates Lin Shu for doing this to him and then dying on him.
Lin Shu left his mark on Jingyan’s body and expected him to live on after that?
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.
*****
Prince Jing and Sir Su have been fighting a cold war over the last few days, mainly about some officials to be purged and some policies where they have to take a step back. Xiao Jingyan isn’t a complete fool, but he has above-board solutions to the clearly duplicitous dealings proposed by the Divine Talent.
“Ha, ha, ha! His Highness and Sir Su can always reach a compromise, you needn’t fight like spouses,” says General Meng rather haltingly to soothe their fight, and Prince Jing scratches his head at the obviously strange choice of words.
Sir Su sends Li Gang with a formal apology and invite through the tunnel, and things thaw a little bit in Prince Jing’s heart. Sometimes his strategist has to understand his ideas as well. Well, Jingyan gloats a bit in his victory, and draws things out, promising to meet in a few days when he is not busy.
That evening, Jingyan finds Fei Liu playing in his manor with Tingsheng, teaching him how to steal flowers. Not a very good practice for his imperial nephew, however Fei Liu if nothing, is a good and patient friend to Tingsheng. Seeing them run and play only reminds Jingyan of happier times in his life.
Seeing Fei Liu looking sourly at him, Jingyan feels a pang of pain, and decides to relent a bit and ask after Sir Su’s health.
“Su-gege angry! Then sad! Then coughing! Then angry! Then Sad! All because of water-buffalo!” The boy’s bristling, and Jingyan winces under his glare, while Tingsheng shakes in silent laughter at the old nickname.
“He’s coughing? Is he better now?” Jingyan asks with genuine concern, because of course, he values the strategist as a good friend by now, otherwise why would he even waste his time bickering and making his feelings known on petty matters? Jingyan would never go to such lengths if he considered Sir Su only a tool, he would declare his intentions and just give the man an ultimatum. He feels very sad he has caused the strategist to fall ill, he should pay a visit at least by tomorrow.
“Still coughing! Saying water-buffalo should pull out the pearls stuck in his butt!”
Tingsheng claps his hands over his mouth and Jingyan stills.
It cannot be. There’s no way Nihuang knows this secret.
That fucking idiot. Jingyan will murder him.
*****
Prince Jing arrives in the Su Manor the next day through the tunnel, and makes polite, even pleasant conversation with his strategist. Sir Su’s pinched look is rapidly evaporating, and he even begins lightly bantering with his prince. (I mean, in every universe, Lin Shu thinks Jingyan belongs to him.)
“I was hoping to apologize to Sir Su by taking him for some entertainment on the Spiral Market Street, there are many unique places that will surely pique Sir Su’s interests,” the prince offered calmly over some snacks, earning the arch of an elegant brow and the barely visible gnashing of teeth.
“Your Highness need not apologise to me for such minor matters, now that all is resolved. But I must refuse Your Highness’ invitation, I fear I am but a weak man to enjoy the pleasures of such establishments.”
“Ah, but I insist! There is a special place I must take you to.”
Sir Su’s expression only stiffened further, as he declared with an icy smile, “I did not know Prince Jing frequented the famous area, what specialty does this place offer?”
Prince Jing bit into a lotus seed cake casually, smiling unusually wide and sharp at Sir Su. “I believe they are very discreet. They are known for beautifully inking people’s bodies with art - particularly pearls on people’s backsides?”
Mei Changsu squeaks indecorously and drops his teacup. Jingyan smirks evilly.
“It’s not fair, you donkey. If I get to be your property, then you get to be mine too. Although I plan to be more direct. ‘This pretty ass belongs to Xiao Jingyan.’ How about it, Xiao Shu?”
Mei Changsu squeals (half-in delight of course) as Jingyan pounces upon him.
****
Mei Changsu doesn’t go to the tattoo parlour for weeks after that, because Jingyan ensures his rear-end is nice and stretched and sore in fifty different ways.
Mei Changsu also gets to see the pearl after twelve years, it has held up beautifully, despite the wrath of the artist. He likes tracing it out with unmentionable parts of his body. It’s fun.
When Eunuch Gao finally helps the new Emperor and his treasured Consort, the former Mei Changsu dress up in their Imperial robes for the first time, he nearly has a heart attack seeing the matching and mysterious ‘Property of Zhu’ on their lower backs. (There is also the hint of a round pink thing poking out but Eunuch Gao NEVER EVER wants to know what that is).
“My precioussssss....pearl,” the Consort whispers to the Emperor before giving him a kiss.
Eunuch Gao thinks he should retire. He has officially Too Much Information by now.
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