#i miss forests and fields and back roads with no traffic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

btsmosphere · 3 years ago

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Breathe Again | KTH

~summary: everything in your world has changed. everything, that is, except the boy who still believes there are spirits in the forest. ~pairing: taehyung x reader ~word count: 16.6k ~my neighbour totoro au, artist!taehyung, fashion designer!reader, childhood friends to lovers, comfort, fluff, slight angst, slow burn, totoro just wants them to be together ~rating: pg13 ~warnings: mentions of burnout, mentions of a toxic work environment, a skipped meal, a tiny bit of blood, being outside in bad weather, heights?

~a/n: hi everyone, long time no see! welcome to my first fic since my hiatus!! this is for the ghibli collab which is being run by @birbdae💞 this one is for anyone who likes ghibli films, wants some comforting boyfriend vibes from tae or just vaguely chaotic totoro content💜this one turned kinda long, but I hope I’ve captured the ghibli vibes well! I would love to hear if you read this and what you think! come chat with me💖

Taking you over familiar roads, the bus bumped gently against uneven ground. But you didn’t so much as blink, cheek resting against the glass which rattled slightly in its pane.

You knew this place.

Something about returning down these roads stirred memories within you, though they tugged more at your body than your mind. The haze of smiles and childish laughter these streets made you recall felt alien to you.

But you knew that if you were to set your feet down in the earth here, they would be able to take you home even with your eyes closed. Your hands have memorised the shapes of the leaves in the forest and the wind would push your hair back like an old friend.

You knew this place, and it knew you.

That’s what you were afraid of.

It was as if a tape was being rewound: taking you whizzing back through the exact route you had ridden out of your hometown when you left so many years ago.

Who would remember you? More importantly, who would remember your goals, the way you had rushed away to the city at the first chance to pursue your goals as a fashion designer.

You hoped they wouldn’t ask. After all, you didn’t know the answers yourself.

Of course, there was the possibility that the town you were coming back to would have changed. There were always new buildings going up in the city, roads closed and the crowds still crawling around like ants. Always moving, never slowing.

But the moment you turned away from thanking the bus driver and settled your feet on the soil, you knew there was no question of this place being unrecognisable. Grass still tufted through at the edges of the road; there was the stream that had always run here, still bubbling merrily and bouncing the odd fleck of light through the grasses it nestled between.

Rumbling into life again behind you, the bus trundled on its way.

First stopping to take a deep breath, you turned after it, feet falling in the shallow furrows made by the tyre marks. As predicted, you gave barely a thought for the direction, your legs easily remembering their way down the short road to reach the market square.

As you moved past the first houses, you parted ways with the stream. It wasn’t long after that the road opened into the square and you finally saw another living being.

Though it wasn’t a big town by any stretch, there were always people around during the day. Luckily it wasn’t market day today, which you were thankful for because the whole town would have been out, and you may well have been caught up for hours by all the people wanting to talk to you.

As it was, three ladies cried out at you from a front doorstep where they were chatting. Hurriedly shooting them a smile, you waved, hoping that would deter them. In the end, you were only waylaid by a couple of questions – how long would you be staying? how’s the big city? – that you could brush off with noncommittal answers.

In that time, you had attracted the gazes of an older couple strolling hand in hand nearby. Gripping the strap of your backpack tighter, you bobbed your head in greeting and scurried past.

Grabbing your phone from your pocket, you picked up the pace. Shooting a quick message to let your aunt know you had arrived kept you occupied with an excuse to avoid a few more staring faces. Perhaps they would think you rude, antisocial, to be walking with your head down and staring at your device instead, but it was comforting in a way. A remnant of your city life, where everyone was wrapped up in technology.

Having braved the main square, you lowered your phone again. Forcing a steady exhale from your mouth, you pressed further through the mercifully empty streets leading away.

The squeak of a bicycle wheel was all the warning you received for the next person you would pass on your journey. Preparing a smile in a hurry, you found yourself staring across at a man you recognised coming around the corner.

Kim Taehyung hadn’t changed much, face lighting up in his trademark rectangular grin as he saw you. He had grown into his handsome features in the time you had been away, and you found your smile wasn’t entirely fake as he slowed on the other side of the street.

Simple white t shirt hanging from his frame, he was wheeling a bike beside him, dusty bags slung over the top. He fit right in with this place.

He was just opening his mouth when you gulped back your faltering smile, ducking your head again and continuing on your way.

With your feet carrying you slightly faster now, you garbled greetings and smalltalk to the other villagers you crossed paths with. The path sloped downhill as you approached the edge of the town, where houses fell away to make space for the rice fields and farmland. From your road, you could look across the flat terraces that stretched, glittering, to the horizon.

Approaching your own place at last, you had to admit you were glad to see Mei lean out of her window to greet you. The old woman had lived there as long as you could remember, and always had a kind word to say.

But though you returned her wave with genuine care, you didn’t stay to talk, instead pressing the keys into the disused lock of your front door. Reluctant from its neglect, it resisted, grating around slowly until finally caving, releasing the door with a groan.

The last time you had seen the inside of this house was many years ago now. Your aunt had raised you here, but had now moved in with her new partner; rather than selling, she had kept the place for you, ‘in case you ever want to come back or visit’.

Sliding the door aside with only a few snags, you stood in the doorway, unmoving.

For a brief moment, a familiar yet long-forgotten feeling had fallen over you. With a blink, the notion that a flurry of movement had greeted you from the shadows slipped away easily.

Dust bunnies, Mei always used to say.

Tugging vigorously at dust sheets that covered the windows, you let light stream into the room, at last allowing you to pull the door closed. Despite all that still required attention, you slumped against it.

Sniffing, you swiped a hand across your cheek. Surely it was just the dust irritating you.

While something inside you felt… different, relieved, to be back here, a larger part of you resisted that. This was only a temporary waystation. There was no use getting settled here again. This was no longer where you belonged…

If only you had found that in the city. That was supposed to be where you would thrive, forge your life amongst the unforgiving glare of neon billboards and buzzing traffic.

You resented the feeling of ease that crept over you now you were back. Resented the people that were content here, fitting fluidly with the meandering of village life. Like Kim Taehyung: he had grown up here with you, but unlike you he had remained right at home, never erring.

You had tried so hard, forever persistent that the world would bend to your will. That you were destined for greater things than this unremarkable town.

Yet now you even found yourself envious of those who stayed here.

They seemed happy.

A low buzz shot through your thoughts, drawing your attention to your illuminated phone screen.

With a dispassioned sigh, you pushed yourself to your feet. You ought to shift some dust from this place in time for your aunt to come for dinner.

Luckily, the house was empty, the few furnishings shoved away in cupboards. After fishing a broom from somewhere, you swept, and had just pulled the last cushion from the cupboard when you heard the familiar call of your name.

Hurrying forwards and plastering a smile on your face, you tugged the door open to help her; her arms were bursting with food. Still, you were surprised by the urge you got to hug her. After depositing all the ingredients in the small kitchen, you gladly returned her tight embrace.

“My darling,” she squeezed you tight, “it’s been so long.”

“I missed you, auntie,” you admitted.

Perhaps you had sounded a little too forlorn because she quickly drew you back to study your face.

“How have you been? Feeding yourself well enough?”

You let out a sound halfway between a giggle and a shriek as she grabbed at your cheek, a gesture that seemed far too familiar.

Brushing her off, you didn’t have time to dwell on the sensation her affections had stirred in you, as more voices drifted from the front room.

Of course, she had invited some friends.

By the time you had greeted each woman, dodged questions and laughed at your aunt and her girlfriend bickering from the kitchen, a steaming bowl was pressed into your hands and everyone gathered to eat. This was a scene you were so familiar with, a sight so common in your childhood, but now…

You shifted, eyes trained on your bowl as Mei told a story of your five-year-old self.

Why was everyone still the same? So nice to you, so comfortable with each other just like always? Your life, your career was seemingly spiralling off course and that guilt still sat heavy on your bones.

How could you retreat back here, accept all this? You should still be working. Not giving up. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that either.

The same feeling lingered even through the clinking of dishes as your guests chipped in to help clear away, and remained in the following silence and dark as you flattened out your futon, curling up in isolation.

You wouldn’t allow this to feel right.

Even as sleep finally ensnared you in its claws just to spit you out the next morning, you continued to tell yourself what you should want. You should be missing your job, you should be missing the city. And though your heart wasn’t in it, you wouldn’t allow yourself to think otherwise.

The sun was high in the sky the next day when you found yourself staring at the blank page of your sketchbook.

I still want to design. Right?

Okay, so, let’s make a design. Design something. Just one thing. Just one idea, so I know I can still do it. I want to know that this is still the right thing.

I can do it.

Your eyes ran down your watercolour palette, each colour stained with others and hollowed in the middle with use. The small pot of water you had prepared sat too, remaining clear as your pen hovered over the paper.

Some time later, it clattered onto the tabletop.

That blank page stared at you for the rest of the day. Your contest continued even as you slurped at the instant noodles you had made. Every time your thoughts strayed outside, they would be tethered right back again.

There was no point running from your struggle. You would go out as soon as you had managed something productive. For now, the packets of food you had brought in your bag from the city would tide you over.

But as certain as you were that you would achieve something, the next day stretched out in exactly the same way.

It was on the third day that a knock at your door broke through your otherwise deserted world inside this room.

Without a second thought to the depressing dinner you were halfway through, you stood up. Only for a moment you hesitated, before conceding that this wasn’t the city, and it was more usual to have visitors here.

Padding across the floor, you pushed the door aside.

“Y/N! Hi!”

You blinked in the beaming face of Kim Taehyung that greeted you.

“Taehyung!” you returned in genuine surprise, “um, come in…”

Stepping back as you remembered your manners, you cast a look around the room. Unfortunately you hadn’t yet disposed of the slowly growing pile of torn ramen packets on the table, but it was too late.

“Thank you, you don’t have to-“

Nonetheless, Taehyung stepped inside to let you close the door on the cloudy day outside. If he noticed the sad state of your abode, he made no comment.

“I-I just thought I’d come by and visit you,” he smiled hopefully, “I haven’t seen you out since you came back…”

Gulping in the face of his innocent curiosity, you glanced at the floor.

“I’m sorry, I just haven’t… had the chance.”

Your excuse was weak and you knew it. Either way, Taehyung was quick to brush aside your worry.

“It’s nothing to apologise for! I thought I had just missed you and- well, I wanted to come to see you anyway. It’s been a while.”

A soft chuckle passed your lips, which curled into a sad smile. With a nod, you looked up at him.

“Yeah. It has.”

Though his face was smiling as always, it had softened as he studied you.

“Do you want to go on a walk?” he offered, “it must have been hard, being away from the countryside.”

The thought of your abandoned ramen cooling on the table behind you dissipated in an instant.

The outside was a refreshing thought, and it was as if Taehyung had opened the door to the possibility. Once there was a time you would have headed out for no reason, just for fun. That was something you had left behind, but with the welcoming boy to encourage you, you were nodding eagerly before you could form a reply.

Although the village was no longer bathed in sun, cool air rushing to meet you instead, the breeze seemed to carry some weight away from your shoulders. The route Taehyung began to tread beside you was well ingrained in your feet, but your mind was still waking up to the familiar sights.

“I always loved the view from here,” you smiled, muttering almost to yourself.

Taehyung heard you, though. There was no noise for your voice to lose itself in, except the wind that took your words on a winding path through the air.

Slowing his steps, you eased beside him as well. You had barely left your road, but being so near to the edge of the village, the swathes of rippling fields were never far from view; now they stretched out like a carpet below the higher ground your village occupied.

“What’s it like, living in the city?” Taehyung recaptured your attention.

Startled, your eyes turned to him as he remained gazing across the lush greenery, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his loose trousers. His shirt, too, billowed slightly in the playful breeze as you strolled together.

It was those words which brought you crashing back to your senses. The city had been far from your mind, chased away the moment you were reminded of nature’s sprawling cloak across the land. It had been so easy to forget…

“Busy,” was all you offered in way of reply at first. A slight sigh was whipped away by the wind before you found the words to continue. “There’s always people doing things, just like here. Only… bigger. More. They don’t have time to stop and speak to you. It’s so much brighter too…

“I like the neon signs,” you admitted, “but with them, you can barely see the stars.”

While you spoke, Taehyung’s eyes drifted back to you, listening intently. After you stopped, he left silence to settle for a moment.

“It sounds different,” he replied.

You simply hummed an affirmative, but a large smile was sliding back onto his face.

“But I bet they love you!” he grinned, face lifting in such eager happiness that it made your heart ache. Wanting so badly to return his joy, you knew you could never fake happiness that genuine.

“Not really…” you scuffed your toes against the ground, suddenly particularly interested in the way the dirt cracked around your shoes.

As such, you missed the deepening furrow of Tae’s brows, but he stayed quiet, sensing your inhale as you prepared to elaborate.

“Maybe it’s because I had always dreamed of moving there, but nothing was as easy as I imagined,” you spoke quietly, “I was so stupid thinking everything would be simple once I got a place as an intern. The company took me on, but I haven’t got any further.”

A short glance back to Tae showed his brows set in a serious line, mulling your words seriously.

“I’m sure if you keep working hard, they’ll see you,” he smiled, “you always wanted to be a designer. I know you can be.”

For a moment, his words stunned all breath in your throat. Swallowing harshly, you tore your eyes from his, roughly shaking your head.

“It’s just not going right,” you lamented, “all I’ve done since I moved there is work, I take the overtime and travel for shows at weekends, shadow where I can… I feel like I can’t do anymore. And still, nothing. Not even a commission, let alone a promotion. I haven’t headed a project team once. It’s like…” panting softly from the speed your frustrated words spilled out, you paused for a moment, shoulders slumping. “It’s like everyone else knows something I don’t.”

“That’s why you came back?”

His low tone was still light and looking back to him brought you face to face with wide, earnest eyes. Of course, he had guessed accurately. You hadn’t quite intended to spill in so much detail what was troubling you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to resent it.

Confirming his assumption with a nod, you watched Taehyung cock his head to the side before returning his gaze back across the forest.

By now you were drawing closer to where the trees huddled together at the borders of the farmland. The track was a little less well-trodden here, your feet falling between scattered grasses that pushed upwards.

“I don’t think it’s you that’s the problem,” he twisted his body around to face you, still walking towards the forest.

All you could do was blink, slightly startled at his assertion. Thankfully, he continued, pulling his hands from his pockets and spreading them to indicate the surrounding trees which you were entering.

“You’re doing everything you can, and that should be more than enough. There’s no secret to learn… well, maybe…”

“Hey!” you elbowed him as he trailed off, “do you know a secret?”

Mirroring your grin, Taehyung sighed, shaking his head at the ground. You kept your eyes trained on him, as if he might really hold some clue that would solve everything for you. Then he raised his head, fluffy strands of hair falling across his smile-brightened eyes.

“Maybe patience,” he shrugged, “I’m sure you’d get somewhere eventually… but also- maybe you should try to value your time more. There isn’t just one path you can take, and you can always change.”

“I-I guess that’s true,” you stammered.

It was something that had crossed your mind, but you had always shoved the idea away the moment you considered it. You knew what you wanted to do, and you shouldn’t give up on it. Hearing another say it, out loud, was… strangely affirming. But your eyes still fled Taehyung’s gaze, skittering about the trees stretching their hands to the sky.

“Either way,” a gentle nudge at your side brought your begrudging gaze back to your friend, “it’s good to have you back for a bit. I’ve missed you. I’m sure your aunt has, too,” he quickly added.

Grateful for his offer of turning away from the previous conversation, you relaxed a little.

“I’ve missed it here too,” you admitted, “thanks for coming over, it’s good to be out.”

For some reason, as you continued ambling through the forest, you felt no guilt creeping in about time you should be spending working. Instead, you barely felt the minutes passing as you laughed with Taehyung about various scenes from your childhoods. If anything, the small amount of guilt tugging at you was guilt for losing touch.

Eventually, you found yourself reclining in the grass at his side.

“Do you remember when you told me there were spirits in this forest?” you laughed softly.

“Hey!” he grinned back, “they are real!”

Though you giggled along with him, you sensed some defiance in the glittering of his eyes, which made you tail off. Your mouth quirked up at the corner.

“You really still believe in them?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes strayed from your own, glancing to the grass and across the leafy landscape. But still, he responded.

“I saw them,” he murmured, bringing a fond smile to your face.

“Maybe people out in the countryside really are crazy,” you joked, flopping back to lie on the floor.

“Maybe,” came the chuckled reply.

Taehyung’s shoulder brushed against your own as he joined you on the floor.

Warmth blooming in your chest, you continued to stare across the treetops as they were brushed with the glow of the encroaching sunlight. Something within you longed to capture this moment, grab the warm-tinted clouds streaming across the sky and bring them to earth to rest beside you.

And later, you would realise that was why you had turned to design.

You picked up your paintbrush and brought colour to the white sheet at last.

Too caught up in your seeming breakthrough, with a design almost finished on your page, you were easily busy enough to ignore the way Taehyung’s face crept into your mind. Trying to summon images of the breathtaking evening you had spent, the boy was inextricable from the memory.

The relief and liberation that had flooded you the moment you allowed yourself some respite had come from having him beside you.

Though you were a fashion designer, not a portrait artist, the flipside of the page was steadily filling with sketches of Taehyung. You hadn’t been able to capture him the exact way you wanted, his striking features escaping you, but you couldn’t hold back from trying at least.

But though you had made some progress on your creative block, you still clung to the shelter of your empty house. The hush of the village provided you with a peace of mind you hadn’t even noticed was missing while you were away.

Before you could dig yourself any more holes wondering about the fate of your career, however, exactly the person you had been hoping to see came back around.

Taehyung beamed widely from his perch on your doorstep. That wonderful smile never failed to produce a brighter grin on your own face too.

However, this time he didn’t step into your house when you made room for him. Disappointment sunk to your stomach, realising you had expected him to stay.

But his next words killed off any sadness before it could even take root within you.

“Put your shoes on,” he flashed a playful grin, “you’re coming to mine for dinner.”

“I am?” you snorted, though you were already reaching for your boots.

“Yep,” he smirked.

Folding his arms, he leaned against your doorframe while you hurriedly got ready.

“Unless you have plans?” he chuckled, “another extravagant microwave meal for one?”

Gaping, your head shot up to meet his twinkling gaze.

“You may be right,” you scoffed, finally closing the door behind you as you joined him on the street, “but that doesn’t make it nice. What would your grandma think of your manners?”

“And what would your aunt think of the way you’re eating?” he retorted.

Lips rising into a begrudging smile, you sort of fell against him in a playful nudge. The next moment, though, your eyes grew wider as he slung an arm around you, giving it a squeeze as his fingers nipped at your cheek.

“I’m joking,” he cooed, “I just want you to eat well.”

At least the sentiment was there. About an hour later you found yourself sat giggling in front of a bowl of charred remains that once were food.

“I tried,” Tae was pouting, poking around in his own bowl.

“You didn’t have to try something so fancy,” you hid more laughter behind your hand, “there’s more room for error.”

“But grandma told me exactly how to make it,” he frowned down at his dish as if it had wronged him, “I don’t know what I even did to mess it up!”

Unable to help it, a fond smile broke onto your face.

“Thank you, Taehyung.”

Your words seemed to startle him, as he immediately started spluttering about how you could thank him after he destroyed your dinner. It only served to pull more laughter from you.

“I appreciate it,” you assured him, “now how about we make something simple?”

His kitchen was stocked with fresh vegetables from the farmlands, making it easy for you to pick some and get to work. Closer to the rice fields than your house, Taehyung’s place bordered with the forest, every window giving generous views on the surrounding greenery.

“Done!”

Turning away from the trees outside the window, which you had somewhat lost yourself in, you found Taehyung stood proudly behind you. In his hands sat a bowl stacked with the vegetables he had chopped.

A look back at your own board showed you had made much less progress.

“Let me finish those,” he placed his bowl down and came to stand next to you. “I think you would be better off doing the cooking.”

Laughing, you agreed and let him take the knife from your fingers. Next, you began to fry your ingredients with the rice that hadn’t been a victim of Taehyung’s previous attempts.

Once he was done, Taehyung approached you, sliding the remaining vegetables into the pan. But even as they fell, sizzling, into the dish, he didn’t move away from you.

“Smells good,” he complimented.

Muttering a brief thank you, you kept your eyes on the food as you stirred it. You could almost pretend the heat in your cheeks was from the warmth of the stove and not the way he leaned closer as he smelled your cooking, such that his chest pressed up against your back, face hovering above your shoulder.

But before your resolve could wear thin enough for you to look around at him while he was in such painfully close proximity, a rumble interrupted your thoughts.

Taehyung instantly pulled away, apologies spilling from his lips. You, on the other hand, burst into laughter.

“Was that your stomach?” you cried.

“Maybe,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand across his middle.

Chuckling, you shut off the stove.

“Luckily, dinner is ready,” you grinned.

Taehyung eagerly dashed to grab plates, letting you pile them up with food.

Together, you brought your steaming meals to the front room where Tae pushed open the front door, inviting you to sit on the step.

“I guess it is kind of late,” you said after your first bite, “no wonder you were hungry.”

Proving your point, the boy beside you was already wolfing down his meal. Smiling to yourself, you dove back into your own food as you stared across the darkening valley, stars now painted in the mirror-smooth surfaces of the rice fields.

Sweet as always, Taehyung thrust a basket of the vegetables into your arms before you left – though, of course, he was walking back with you. Still, you were embarrassed to note the hint of resentment at his wonderful actions, as it meant you had one less excuse to see him again. In truth, you didn’t want to leave at all.

But you still thanked him profusely, and you meant it. His kindness warmed your heart, and guilt twisted inside you at the thought of taking his actions to mean anything further.

He probably felt sorry for you, lost as you were. Meanwhile he had found a place in the world, and he was happy here. Almost certainly he only wanted to do some good for an old friend.

But for tonight, you couldn’t help but indulge in the flutters Taehyung set off in your heart, a few more sketches joining the others before you fell into bed.

Since you arrived, you hadn’t been very productive. You knew this, but bringing yourself to care was becoming difficult. No, you were too busy enjoying finally getting some peace and time away from the job that had been tiring you out.

But even in your time off, it seemed too much to ask of them to let you rest.

“-so I need your assessment of the project before we can move forwards…”

Your boss’ voice crackled over the line as you held your phone passively at your ear. Gulping as she rambled on about the practicality of your colleague’s design – when she was the one who had given the project to him when you really wanted it – you stared blankly at your notebook. Only one page remained filled. The simple design you had been thrilled with a couple of days ago now crumbled in your estimation.

Tell her you can’t do it. This is your time off. At least ask to be paid for it-

“Of course. I can do that,” you replied automatically.

Instant alarm bells started ringing in your head. You had to stick up for yourself before too much was loaded onto you-

“Wonderful, I’m sending them over now. Thanks a lot,” your boss spoke, line cutting off before you could so much as open your mouth.

Huffing, you flopped back onto your bed, where you had been sleeping peacefully before your ringing phone rudely awoke you. But you didn’t rest there for more than a few seconds before you were rolling yourself off and staggering over to dig out the laptop you hadn’t touched since leaving the city.

Opening up your emails, you saw the most recent one from your boss, but unfortunately your inbox was also rammed with several others you hadn’t bothered to check. You supposed you could never have expected to be completely away from work.

Resolving to check them later, you clicked on the first of the files from your boss. Already, you groaned, seeing that the plans were more extensive than you had believed over the phone.

You couldn’t deny that you accepted this too easily.

But then again, you never wanted to be seen slacking. Maybe if you did this, it would finally be noticed and you would be in line for the next promotion…

That was what you told yourself the last time too. And the time before that, and before that.

At this point, even the thought of actually being promoted didn’t fill you with the excitement it should. It was all you had worked for, and yet all you could think of was how much more work it would mean.

Attempting to shove away your heavy pile of thoughts, you focussed back on the task at hand.

Wrangling your brain into action, however, proved difficult. You realised too late that it should have been lunchtime, hurriedly trying to make yourself something while it was already halfway through the evening, sky darkening beyond your window. But even though it was getting later and you had been working all day, you had got next to nothing done.

Even the pattering of rain on your roof which began early on did little to ease the stress creeping back into its familiar residence in your brain.

Your head was spinning as you sliced up a pepper, not able to focus on the simple movement of your hands. You knew you should be looking at your work, but even as your mind hovered around the matter, you were unable to think straight as everything proved a dead end.

A sharp pinch shook you from your haze.

Hands stilling, you looked down to find a sliver of red already growing of your fingertip. Cursing, you threw down your cooking, turning to the sink.

The blood was swept away with the stream of water from your tap, showing only a miniscule cut, but your finger shook anyway. Staring down at the small line, even though it was clean now, your breath hitched in the back of your throat.

The rain, relentless on your roof, was the only sound muffling the sobs which left you as you hunched over the basin.

Letting your hand drop, you clutched onto the edge of the surface. You felt like a child; your computer was filled with demands, your head occupied with work, but you just didn’t want to.

Why couldn’t they just leave you be?

Some instinct within you had set your feet moving before your mind could catch up. Abandoning your laptop where its screen still passively illuminated a square of your desk, you were slipping shoes on, practically throwing your door aside with your sudden desperation to reach the outdoors.

The rain which immediately hit your skin hardly occurred to you. All you could manage was to breathe deeply in the saturated air.

You had succeeded in rediscovering some of the inspiration that led you to your current path; it had always been the beauty of your hometown, the countryside with its vast fields and open skies, the peace and the fury of the elements.

And maybe you had forgotten it, but now you knew it again you wanted to seize it with both hands. The pull of work only made you resent it more.

You had to escape.

And so your feet were taking you down your road, slipping on the track which had already begun turning to mud under the onslaught from the heavens.

You had barely left the glow of the last house on your street before water was running in streams down your cheeks, mingling with the salty tears that had been falling before. Hiccupping, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

Though you sniffed, you didn’t bother to wipe at your face.

But already the ruthless pelting of raindrops began to batter away the frustration that had been stirred in you. Still breathing heavily, you pressed unflinchingly on, your mind only able to focus on stepping forward through the storm.

Despite your lack of destination, your pace was rapid and soon you were stumbling between trees as you reached the forest. Here, the hammer of rain was lighter, plucking at leaves harmlessly and filling the air with the hollow chorus.

The oppressive feeling from sitting caged by your computer was fading. But now you weren’t sure whether your shaking was from your outburst or from the cold. Only, you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to care.

It wasn’t until now that your pace slowed in the least. Finally you were away from the pressing weight that had begun to crush you, even if it still remained waiting for you at home.

Weaving between trunks, your speed waned at last, allowing your fingers to trace along the wisened and cracked bark of each one. Even when you needed to blink repeatedly to gain clear sight from unshed tears and raindrops collecting on your lashes – even when your frame shook from head to toe, hair plastered against your skin – you finally felt free.

Having nature roar around you cast the demands of work, something that once loomed over you, far out of your sight.

Feet still tripping forwards, all it took was a toe catching on a root before your knees were meeting the earth.

Down here, the raindrops jostled the smaller plants that coated the forest floor. Looking up, you tried to wipe your hands, though it was fruitless against your sodden trousers.

But you paused in your motion as you caught sight of something.

Ahead of you, some tree roots twisted upwards, sculpted into a small arch. Although beyond that, you could see little, you rose slowly and stepped closer to it.

A few leftover tears leaked from your eyes, but they were indetectable as they slipped among the rainwater. Taking no notice, your eyes remained ahead as you reached the strange opening.

Ducking, you padded inside, not hurrying at all. It inspired a stiller pace for some reason.

The first thing you were aware of was the lack of rain falling on your back. Instead, the air was perfectly calm, only the distant pattering of water on leaves a reminder of the storm you had previously been in.

A few more steps and you found yourself in the centre of what appeared to be a large tree. Bark walls encircled the generous space, though it was obscured by the abundant greenery coating them decadently.

Tiredness was rapidly seeping into your bones now, and all you could think of the moss was how soft it looked, so tempting to your drooping eyes.

Exhaustion masked any shock you would otherwise have felt, then, when your eyes fell on a larger shape lying near the far wall. But this was not part of the tree, nor its foliage. Drawing nearer, you found it appeared to be furry. Enormous ears lay flat on the leafy ground where its head lay. Its round belly rose taller than you did from the ground, even though it was horizontal.

Staring through your bleary eyes, you merely chuckled at the unusual sight.

The creature inflated with each deep breath. It was sleeping.

You were sure you must be too, given what a funny dream you were having right now. But you were still so tired.

Without further thought, you let yourself tumble to the ground so you could rest, propped up against the forest creature. Indeed it was as soft as you had imagined looking at it.

Everything was peaceful as sleep embraced you at last.

Taehyung jerked awake, the whole house seemingly clamouring in his ears.

Eyes wide, he threw off his covers, though he wasn’t sure what he expected to do. The wind was hurtling through the air outside, hitting his house like a freight train. Windows shaking in their panes, bullets of rain still spattered against the glass.

Pulling his blanket with him, Taehyung retreated towards the main room. Although he stayed back from the windows, he still looked out, watching the vague shapes of dark trees as they attempted to uproot themselves in the blustering air.

He couldn’t deny being a little unnerved by the sudden ferocity of the weather. With a calming breath, however, he reminded himself of the true form of the wind. The image of the grinning cat brought a smile stretching across his own lips as well. It had been years since he had seen it, or the spirit Totoro and their friends.

But even if he was a child then, he clutched onto those memories, trying to keep them vivid as possible.

He was about to settle down on the sofa to wait out the noise when a different shape made itself known in the window.

Doing a double take hard enough to give him whiplash, Taehyung managed to keep himself from staggering backwards in shock. Blinking determinedly, he kept his eyes fixed on the familiar form as it drew closer into the light from his porch.

Although he knew they were real, he still found himself struggling to comprehend it.

This wasn’t another dream, another memory or image on his canvas. Pushed against all the walls in his study, and his bedroom too when they overflowed the space, images of the forest spirit were strewn about his living quarters. He could never forget it but…

Why would it come back?

A moment elapsed, Totoro’s huge frame blocking out much of the view behind them as they stared blankly down at Taehyung the way they always did. The pandemonium of the wind died away.

And then Tae’s senses kicked back in, and he was sprinting to the door, hurrying into the night because there was something else.

Totoro was carrying something-

No.

Someone.

Breathless, he stood on the step, taking in the figure cradled in Totoro’s arms. It was you.

He remained still, so Totoro moved forwards, towering above him. But Taehyung could never be intimidated, knowing this gentle giant well enough. Instead, his eyes remained on you as Totoro lowered you towards him.

You were clearly asleep, eyes shut and chest rising and falling evenly. But it was how on earth you came to be so, in Totoro’s arms, and now in front Tae’s house, that had his brow furrowing deeply.

Though water no longer sat on your skin, the dampness of your hair and clothes remained. You must be freezing.

However, as Tae hurried forward a couple more steps to reach out for you, a warmth engulfed him. Recognising the forest spirit’s familiar magic, a hint of a smile returned to his face.

Though Totoro now relinquished their grip, the magic remained cocooning you, making Taehyung able to hold you in his arms as you had been rendered weightless.

Straightening to their full colossal height, Totoro backed away. Still feeling that comforting magic wrap around the two of you, Taehyung smiled as he bowed, as deeply as he could with you in his arms. Totoro gave a little bob of their own before turning away.

For a short moment, Taehyung watched the spirit amble away. But you were the priority. Unsure how long the magic would last, he backed into the door to push it open and get you both inside. Looking around in mild panic, he settled on the first place he thought of and moved through to the bedroom.

Setting you down on the futon, he pushed your wet hair away from your forehead with his palm.

Next, he hovered for a moment.

Eventually he stood back, swallowing nervously as he watched you. It was still the middle of the night, and raindrops were splattering the window again, though less harsh than before.

Of course, his concern was still unsatisfied. If Totoro had found you, that could only mean you had been in the forest. But… why? At this time of night, you should be safely tucked away inside.

Well, at least you were now.

Sighing, he turned away to retrieve the blanket he had dragged to the living room. Collecting a few more cushions for good measure, he placed them down on the closer edge of the futon. It was big enough for him to sleep here too, while still leaving some distance between you.

After depositing his bedding, Tae made one more trip to the cupboard, bringing out a duvet. Though thick, it was very light. He liked to think of it as his ‘cloud duvet’.

Seating himself, he leaned across to you to cover you with his favourite duvet, but stopped short.

The hair lying on his pillows was already drying. So too were your pyjamas.

Sighing, he shook his head lightly and continued to throw the covers across your sleeping form.

He would get his answers in the morning. Settling down himself, Taehyung turned onto his side so his back faced you. For now you were okay, Totoro had made sure of that.

But aside from what had happened to you, one thing plagued his mind the most even as he closed his eyes.

Why had Totoro brought you to him?

Beams of light hung lazily in the air, only warded off by the thin fabric of Taehyung’s curtains. Blinking in the hazy morning, the usual hushed whisper of the forest greeted him, no trace of the furore of last night.

Except for the weight on the bed beside him.

Rubbing one hand across his face, he looked down at you. You remained nestled against the pillows, hair fanning out as the light cast it into rich colour. When his arm fell, it was perilously close to you, but he didn’t move it away.

Taehyung knew there was breakfast to be made and explanations to be had once he left the comfort of the bed.

Still, he lay unmoving, content to simply let his gaze roam your resting features. Warm light glowing against your skin showed it invitingly soft. His dark eyes traced your eyelashes where they rested, the gentle slope of your lips…

His breath hitched, a slight gasp lost in the fabric of his pillow.

At the first inclination of your lashes shifting, bringing you closer to wakefulness, he retreated, sliding out from his blanket and away to the kitchen. A puff of air left his lips as he willed his feet to fall noiselessly, leaving you to slumber.

He could easily blame the moment on his hazy awakening from sleep. He could pretend he only stayed next to you for want of staying warm in bed for a while longer.

Except he knew it would never be the truth.

You were truly breathtaking to him, painted perfectly in the dreamy morning light. All he could do was steer his thoughts away and turn them to preparing some breakfast.

And that was what roused you: the vague scent of steaming rice in the air and the odd clang of kitchenware from the other room. Rolling over as your eyelids cracked apart, you registered the indulgently soft duvet you were under, the scent of rain on the pillow.

It was already light, so you eased yourself to sit, stretching out your back with a quiet groan.

Vaguely, you remembered the sound of raindrops in the air, earth biting at your knees and a giant tree. It had certainly been a strange dream, you thought as you opened your eyes.

And paused, blinking.

This wasn’t your room. Hell, it wasn’t even your house.

From among the fluffy mountains of bedding, you slowly took in the place. Somehow, you weren’t exactly panicked by the position you found yourself, oddly comforted by the domestic sounds of cooking. You could guess where you were, and became more certain when your eyes fell on a row of assorted paintings propped against the wall.

When Taehyung poked his head into the bedroom, he found you awake and sat up. You had moved to the side of the bed, and were sitting cross legged as a hand delicately skimmed the surface of the nearest painting.

For a moment, he didn’t announce himself. Breathing deeply, his eyes rested fondly on the back of your head, ignoring the painting. He could see the artwork anytime, and he knew it well.

A vibrant green landscape of the forest, he had put Totoro and the other spirits dotted about the trees. Some were barely there, signifying how they protected the woods even though almost no one believed in them at all.

You must have sensed him, however, for you were snatching your hand back from the image and whirling around to face him.

“You alright there?” he smirked gently at your surprise.

“Yeah…” you murmured.

Noticing you chewing your lip, looking between him and the painting, Taehyung’s small smile faded a little. The confused tone you spoke with placed a light frown in its place.

“Yeah?” his low voice echoed.

Pushing himself away from the doorframe, he drew closer, hands dug into his pockets.

“That… that thing, in your drawing,” you frowned, staring right at it. “I dreamt about it.”

“Ah,” understanding dawned on Taehyung and he sat down beside you. Neither of you complained at the closeness as his leg pressed flush to your own. “That’s the forest spirit I told you about. Well, all of them are. But that’s Totoro.”

His tone had been anything but ridiculing, but still you looked around to find his expression genuine, eyes slightly creased at the corners in a vague smile.

“I-I don’t understand,” you breathed.

“You didn’t dream about them,” he leaned closer for emphasis, shifting to face you better, “it was real. Do you remember coming here?”

For a moment, you frowned, eyes escaping his as they seemed to look far away while you tried to recall. You came up empty.

“No…”

“That’s because Totoro brought you to me,” Taehyung went on, patient as before, “last night, they brought you in from the storm.”

He paused for a moment, wetting his lips as he gauged your reaction before carrying on:

“Do you remember why you were out? Did you fall asleep in the forest?”

Again, that look took over your face. Your gaze fell to your hands as they played with the hem of the duvet, untangling the mass of memories from the night before.

“I think… I must have done…” you frowned, then suddenly started. “Oh crap! I remember why I left! My boss is gonna kill me-“

Panicked, Taehyung placed his hands on your knees as you carried on rambling, starting to push the blankets away in your sudden rush.

“Hey, hey, Y/N slow down, what’s going on?”

“I-I got a call from work,” you hastily explained, “they need me to approve a set of designs and I said it was fine even though-“

“I thought you took the time off work?”

“I did, I did but I said yes anyway but then I just felt so… so- argh! I was so stressed all over again and I just wanted to get out…” the clarity you lacked the night before made you cringe as you pictured yourself walking down the muddy track in just pyjamas, heading into the trees in the middle of the night. You chuckled drily, “maybe not my wisest idea.”

“No,” Taehyung had to agree, inclining his head, “but you’re here right now. Work doesn’t need you this instant.”

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you weren’t quite sure if he spoke the truth. Either way, you decided you didn’t much care when the boy broke into a shy grin and offered a hopeful ‘stay for breakfast?’.

He had managed to cook without mishap this time, resulting in a self-satisfied grin which you could easily tell translated into an I-told-you-so.

Happily full after his meal, Taehyung told you that he was going to do some painting, but that you were welcome to stay. From someone else, you might not be sure if they meant it or were just saying it out of politeness, but Taehyung had already offered you a set of clothes and a hot drink.

You certainly didn’t want to go yet, and you dared to hope he wanted you to stay as well.

So you accepted his offer and settled on the sofa with a steaming mug of tea and a book you had plucked at random from the shelves. Meanwhile, Taehyung turned on an old fashioned radio, which crackled softly into life in the corner before filling the atmosphere with calm music.

You knew for a fact Tae had a study in his house, but he brought his materials out into the main room anyway. Neither of you needed to say much as he set to work and you sipped your tea, going about your tasks in the mutual comfort of shared space.

He was facing the window as he worked, allowing you a view of his progress.

In the end, you became far too distracted to make it far through the book at all, too busy watching colour fill up the blank spaces. The work had already been started, with just a wash of colour occupying the canvas.

Now, you got to watch as from the blur of colours and shapes came the form of a forest. But this one was not bathed in the glory of day, the colours dark and muted instead.

Smooth brushstrokes left in their wake a body of water, glittering stars scattered within it. The limited palette of the night-time scene was fascinating to you. At last, Tae’s brush was picking out the form of the spirit again, peering from behind the trees. Your mouth curved up into a smile.

As Taehyung stood back, brush clamped in his mouth as he assessed his work so far, you scrambled to flip over a chunk of pages in your book. Burying your face in it, your cheeks burned as you realised you had been staring this whole time.

“What do you think?”

Making an effort to look as surprised as possible, you turned back to find Tae beaming at you.

“I think it’s wonderful,” you assured him, “the colours, the water… everything.”

His eyes lit up, smile only growing wider.

“Thank you! You really think so?”

At your indulgent nod, he turned back with renewed enthusiasm to complete the side of the forest which had yet to emerge from the melange of colour.

“Shall I get us lunch?” you offered not long after, noticing that you had now been there for a few hours.

Though Tae was engrossed in his painting, nose almost pressed to the canvas as he detailed some leaves in the moonlight, he graced you with an appreciative smile and a nod.

Slipping away to the kitchen, you soon reacquainted yourself with where everything lived and got to work. It wasn’t long before your limited cooking skills had done their job. A brief call to Taehyung had him emerging in the doorway with a smile on his face, taking the bowl gratefully.

Once again you settled happily on the front step, taking in the tranquil forest. It had calmed to a mere breeze since the night before, the leaves rustling, bright green in the midday sun.

“I can see why you like it here,” you commented between mouthfuls, “it must be a great place to work.”

Taehyung hummed around his mouth of food, but soon swallowed and replied, head tilted as his eyes scanned the forest.

“It inspires me.”

“So does Totoro,” you smiled. However, it couldn’t be denied that you were digging for more information after your strange encounter.

An understanding smile curved Tae’s lips and he set his chopsticks down briefly.

“You’re right,” he nodded, “for me, they’re tied together with the forest. I haven’t seen them since I was younger, but this place keeps them alive in my imagination, I suppose.”

“Wow,” you breathed, “no wonder your work is so good, hmm? You really love this place.”

As you dug back into your food, Taehyung turned his smiling eyes to you. Though you didn’t meet his gaze, he held his breath. Chewing his lip, he wondered why he couldn’t shake that feeling that had overcome him that morning.

Eventually, he forced himself back to his food, shuffling an inch or so away from you for good measure.

“I think it’s important to have a good place,” he stated, still staring at his dish when you looked around, “a place that works for you, when you need to be creative. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Yeah,” you nodded vaguely.

But though you never disagreed, you weren’t sure you did understand. And it struck you that perhaps you should. Previously, you had only cared about what your job title could be. Never had you focussed on where you were, convinced you could continue to force out designs the way you always had…

But right now, you thought you might share Tae’s view, the motion of the leaves and the gentle sun caressing them stirring up your long lost desire to create.

And the presence of a warm figure beside you, full of support, had you wishing perhaps a little too much that you could stay.

You couldn’t delude yourself for much longer, unfortunately. Inside, Taehyung was happy to leave your dishes on the side and his brushes out as he offered to walk you home.

However, when he proposed taking you ‘the scenic way’, you dared entertain the thought that perhaps he might like having you around, too.

Though you hadn’t been here for some time and thus your sense of direction was shaky at best, you could tell that Taehyung was leading you around to the other side of town, albeit through the forest. Neither of you were in any hurry to get there, instead enjoying the dappled shade of the woodland path, reams of laughter drifting through the tree trunks as you joked together.

A subtle ache had begun in your cheeks from the constant smiling. But as Tae broke from the path, insisting on building an ‘installation art piece’, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Instead, you eagerly joined Taehyung as he ran giggling through the trees, scouring the floor for twigs and stones. If anyone else had seen you, it would certainly appear childish. Especially when Taehyung encouraged you to give him a leg up so he could reach a particularly beautiful fallen leaf that was lodged in the crook of a tree branch.

It was when he leapt down again with a subtle huff that you both burst into laughter again. Through the slits your eyes became as you creased with mirth, you caught a glimpse of a broad, boxy smile that robbed you of breath in an instant.

In front of you, Taehyung was chuckling, that beautiful smile still stretching at his lips. And once again, the urge to capture this moment swelled in you. You couldn’t take your eyes from him, simply trying to commit the image to memory with the unattainable hope that it would never fade away.

As he wiped one last tear, you hurriedly turned away, cursing the intense speed your heart had reached.

“What’s your plan, Van Gogh?” you joked, hoping he couldn’t see your sudden nerves.

“Not sure,” he replied happily. Fingers catching your wrist, he tugged you further on. Striding away towards the path ahead of you, he would never see the heat blooming in your face at the contact.

Flustered, you hurried after him, only to run into his back as he stopped without warning.

“Tae? Is-?”

Poking your head from your spot behind his shoulder, you too rapidly quieted.

Though it was not long since you last saw Totoro, the memory was a haze of rain and tears. Now, though, you gulped at the sight. The spirit was waddling along the pathway, each step somehow regal with its commanding size.

With wide eyes you turned to Taehyung. His side profile showed an awed smile, a shallow breath escaping him.

When the creature turned around, you stiffened. But beside you, Taehyung simply stepped forwards, leaving you staring between him and Totoro. Bowing briefly, Tae moved even closer while you hurried to observe the same manners.

Unaffected, Totoro simply turned, continuing their ambling journey through the woods.

Frown taking over your face and unsure what to do, you looked to Tae at your side. However, his expression had split into a joyful grin that obscured his eyes within creases, and before you could even open your mouth, he was dashing to follow the spirit.

Taken by surprise, you could do nothing but follow, tripping through the undergrowth until you spilled back out onto the path.

Laughter was bubbling from your lips before you could control it. Taehyung’s giggled soon mingled with yours in the air.

On reaching the spirit’s side, you slowed somewhat. Totoro accepted your presence with barely a look your way as they kept plodding onwards. What were small steps for the creature, however, took you at a surprising pace that had a sweat breaking from your forehead after a while.

“Tada!”

A flourish of Taehyung’s arms accompanied the first breaking of the companionable silence you had journeyed in.

Following where he gestured, your eyes lit up at the sight of glittering water.

“This was where we were going?”

“Yes! Do you remember it?”

A bounce had already entered Tae’s step, and he spun to talk to you while skipping backwards.

“Of course I do!” you nodded.

Just outside this village, the stream grew broader, creating a wide, flat brook. Countless afternoons of your childhood had been spent here, hopping over the stepping stones that lay above the water’s surface, or splashing in the shallow depths at the edges.

Despite the fuzzy heat of the evening, you found a little extra energy to race after Taehyung to the bank.

Within moments, he was kicking his shoes off and hopping into the glistening water. It only just came up to his ankles, close to the side where blades of grass drooped over, their tips disturbing the surface.

Sitting down for a breather, you also slipped off your shoes and dipped your feet in. Soothingly cool, the water brought relief against the heat you had worked up on the walk.

However, you never got much chance to rest as Taehyung stuck a hand directly under your nose. Scoffing, you took it anyway. In some small retribution, you aimed a kick in his direction once he had dragged you up, sending droplets of water showering over his legs.

Of course, you were instantly shrieking as he sent a playful, but much more powerful, wave of water back your way.

Though you were still aware of the large form of Totoro standing nearby, you were inexplicably more comfortable with their presence now. In fact, they faded to the back of your mind as you let yourself become preoccupied with the impromptu water fight that had your breathless laughs carrying over the rippling stream.

Eventually, you collapsed back onto the grassy bank, head thrown back as you breathed, heavy and exhilarated. For a moment, you simply let a gentle breeze soothe your skin.

When you looked back up, Taehyung snapped his eyes away from you so fast you were hardly sure you had caught them in the first place. Just as he turned away, a shadow fell over you.

Tipping your head back, you saw Totoro looking back down at you.

Before you could speak, let alone turn to face them, a bundle of sticks had fallen at your side, a couple rolling right up to your fingers where they rested. Picking the rough objects up, you looked back to the spirit quizzically. They were the sticks Taehyung had collected earlier, eventually carried here with him and left on the ground.

Then Totoro moved away, downstream a little.

Approaching you, Taehyung bent down to retrieve a few for himself.

“I think they want to play,” he smiled.

Totoro was watching you, almost expectantly. A smile quirked over your lips.

“I know this game!”

Side by side, you and Taehyung padded upstream a few paces, selecting a stick each.

“Three! Two! One!” he counted loudly, although you swore he dropped his stick a little before the last was called.

“Hey!” you shoved him playfully, but he was already taking off jogging towards Totoro.

You had lost sight of the slim shapes moving through the water, so you walked after him, groaning as Totoro held up the gnarled stick Taehyung had chosen.

“That’s not fair!” you tried to sound indignant, even going so far as to fold your arms, but laughter betrayed you.

Several rematches later, the sun was beginning to dip in earnest, and you had to admit it was time to get home. You were still closer to Tae’s house than yours, given the roundabout route you had taken.

As the light painted the sky darker, a few wisps of grey swirling below amber, the laughter died down at the prospect of going back home. Either way, there wasn’t much you could use as an excuse to stay here longer, so you slipped your shoes back on and began making your way over the stepping stones.

Taehyung went first, more steady on his feet while you slipped, taking a moment to get your footing on each one.

Totoro, on the other hand, simply watched you go.

Once, you turned back to give them a shy wave, but they didn’t move. Despite the muteness of the spirit, you thought it looked a little affronted at your leaving.

I’ll come back you promised silently with a smile.

Staring at the wonderful creature, you understood the fond firmness of belief Tae had described feeling about the forest spirits.

But with your eyes averted, your next step was not calculated. Suddenly there was no rock beneath your foot, leg slipping straight down the side as you whipped your attention to the front too late.

“Woah!”

A gasp left you as Taehyung’s exclamation faded from the air, his hands steadfast around your waist. Gulping at the sudden contact, you dared to look up. Dark eyes bore right back into your own and they weren’t breaking away.

“You okay?”

When the words left his lips, you felt them as breath drifting across your own more than you heard them.

You tried to nod, afraid that your noses would touch, close as you were. Somehow, though, you couldn’t look away. The hypnotising softness within his irises had you unsteady all over again as you placed your foot carefully back on stone.

Still, his hands stayed in place. And you didn’t want them to move away.

Tentatively, you breathed in, unable to help your gaze dipping to Taehyung’s temptingly plump lips.

He can’t have missed it. But you realised too late, returning your gaze to the safer, yet still perilous, territory of his eyes. Only to find him slightly further away, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his eyebrows raised slightly.

Snapping your mouth closed, you stiffened as horror set in. Was he uncomfortable? Had you revealed yourself?

But still he didn’t back away-

A yelp punctuated the air, startled from your own lungs with the impact of your body against Tae’s chest. In a split second, you were landing against something firm with a large splash in the relative quiet of the evening.

Gasping as cold water covered your back, you jerked only to find a strong arm circling you in its grip. Below you, a low rumble of laughter vibrated through your body.

Eyes widening, you realised you were lying pressed flush against Taehyung.

As the grip around you loosened, taking some warmth with it, you looked into Tae’s eyes which were once again creasing with mirth. He struggled to sit it the shallow stream, eventually ending up with you straddled on his lap as his arm remained looped casually around you. Despite the water, icier now in the deepening evening, heat was flaming in your cheeks.

Eager to twist around, you laid eyes on what had caused your unfortunate impact. Totoro stood in the water, unmoving as ever although they were quite clearly the only culprit in sight.

“What-?” you spluttered.

Still laughing, Taehyung helped ease you off him, keeping your hand clasped in his own as you both clambered to your feet. Water dripped from your hair, your legs and shoes sending miniature downfalls over the stepping stones as you returned to them.

“Have we angered the spirit?” you stage whispered to Taehyung, who laughed loudly.

“Sorry Totoro, we have to go home,” Tae sent a bow towards the creature. They blinked back.

Giggling slightly, you took a tentative step onto the next boulder. No sooner had you moved than the wind suddenly picked up around you, the waves in the brook growing more prominent as chill air ensnared your damp skin.

Taehyung cursed under his breath.

“It’s freezing,” he muttered, gritting his teeth.

Subconsciously, you huddled closer to him as he looked around – first at the path ahead and over the stream, then back towards the forest. Both of you seemed to gravitate to the latter, where leaves rioted in the air above the treetops.

As you stood in the wind, Taehyung’s arm had lifted to absently hold your waist. You felt him tug lightly.

“Maybe we should go back to mine. It’s still too far to your place, we might both freeze.”

“Are you sure?” you breathed, though you wanted to agree there and then, run back to his warm bed and not move for several hours. The way your voice came shakily with the shivers that began only confirmed Tae’s plan, and he was already setting off towards the riverbank.

“Very sure. Let’s get inside.”

Not needing to be told twice, you followed hastily, only connected to Tae by your fingertips that clutched each other as he led the way.

A particularly violent gust had your shoulders hunching. You were nearly at the side of the stream, and so you kept your focus for a moment longer on the rocks in front of you, before at last your feet met the grassy floor.

But on looking up, the sight that greeted you on the bank had your mouth hanging open.

What looked like a bus was standing in front of you. Or what would have looked like a bus, if not for the fact that it was smiling.

But after the day you had had, you made no protest as Tae told you it was okay to get in, merely accepting your fate with an incredulous sigh.

Tae’s hand on the small of your back as you stepped inside didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you let it slide. It was nice to be out of the cold, so you busied yourself with getting cosy on the seats that ran down the sides of the interior.

A jolt announced your departure. Looking around, you found Totoro hadn’t joined you, but watched you leave from the bank instead.

Turning back to the scene in front of you, you were surprised to note that no wind touched your frozen skin any more, despite the fact the windows on this bus seemed to be… well, non-existent. Beside you, Tae was leaning out slightly with a giddy grin lighting up his face, hand splayed in the air.

With a smile creeping onto your own face, you resigned yourself to the unexpected journey. Folding your arms against the side, you too stared out across the sky.

The treetops were far beneath you now, your whole village visible though it looked toy-sized from here. Wisps of clouds flew close overhead while your vantage point showed the glaring sun peeking above the horizon, illuminating your face with the last of the day’s warmth.

A glance to Taehyung showed his face bathed in the glow as well, painting his skin with molten gold that danced in his eyes and streaked through his hair like brushstrokes.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Mindless to the risk of him catching you, you allowed your gaze to trail along his features, cast into striking light and shade. You longed to reach out, touch his hair. It looked indulgently soft, waving in a light breeze as you travelled.

All too soon, shadows were once again flitting over his cheeks as you were brought closer to the ground.

Awed smile remaining on his parted lips, he turned his face to you. Though you swallowed, you didn’t bother to look away, simply returning a smile. If possible, his seemed to soften even more at this.

Landing was softer than leaving the ground, barely a bump letting you know you were back on the earth. Since you sat down, lethargy had crept up on you, revealing how spent you were after the day outside.

Taehyung stood while you were still blinking groggily from your position laying on your arms.

“Come on,” a low chuckled accompanied the sliding of arms around you.

You complied, finding your feet and stepping out of the bus with a yawn. Without a moment to spare, the vehicle? creature? had leapt from the ground, soon whizzing out of sight.

Until you climbed the steps to Taehyung’s house, the cool air waking you sufficiently to slip off your shoes, you hadn’t noticed that your clothes had dried.

“They never stop with the surprises,” Taehyung’s low voice chuckled, making you look up.

You had been standing just inside the doorway, ogling your sleeves as if you might blink and find them soaking wet again in an instant. Meanwhile, Tae stood in the living room, one hand dug into a pocket as his other fingers slipped open the top button of his shirt with practised ease.

Gulping at the sight, you fixed your eyes back on his.

He simply smiled. Under one arm he gathered a blanket that had been strewn on the couch, but it was his free hand he held out to you, fingers outstretched, inviting.

Grateful, you stepped closer, inhaling the comforting scent of his home. You hadn’t noticed it before, but though your clothes were dry they still gave off the odour of river water, making the aroma of paints mingled with herbs and spices more prominent by contrast as you closed the space between you.

Hand closing around the offered blanket, you broke eye contact for the first time.

“This feels like a dream,” you murmured, head shaking lightly.

A beat of silence as Tae released his grip on the soft fabric, transferring it to your fingers.

“It does,” he whispered.

Had you looked up, you would have found his eyes still trained intently on you. So close, he bit his tongue, not trusting his voice further given the way his throat closed up, lending his deep voice more gravel than usual.

Stifling a yawn, you looked around, already pulling the blanket over your shoulders. Despite the quick journey and drying off, the chill of the outside lingered a little.

“Where do you want me?” you yawned.

Tae cleared his throat before he spoke, stepping away though he left his fingers tangled loosely with your own.

“The bedroom is fine, i-if you want to, that is,” he hastened to add, “we’re both tired. Let’s get some sleep.”

While normally your manners would have you protest at least a little, you had to admit how sleepy you were becoming. It was impossible to deny that Tae had just proposed exactly what you wanted, and so you let him lead you to the bedroom, where you sunk onto the futon as he gathered some clothes from his wardrobe.

Folded beside you, you handled them with reverent fingers, slipping out of your clothes once Tae had excused himself for the bathroom.

You reversed your tasks once more before you found yourself bundled in comforting blankets, the weight next to you a steadying influence in the darkness. Though you longed to reach out for him, trace your fingertips over his skin, hold him close-

you really were just too tired.

And maybe it was testament to the security of his presence that you were unable to act on your desires, sleep claiming you strongly instead, taking you quicker than you had managed in months.

Waking up, however, was a different story.

While the exhaustion of yesterday had muffled any thoughts beyond wanting to sleep, today your mind was overflowing even as you first blinked at the pale light.

Beside you, Taehyung still lay sleeping. You were simultaneously aware of his peaceful beauty, and the panic with which you found yourself revelling in it. It seemed you had become a little too attached to him. Maybe this had all been a mistake…

Also in the back of your mind, though rapidly elbowing its way to the forefront, was the fact you hadn’t been home for an entire day. Your phone was still there; who knew how many work calls you might have missed?

Though you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to regret turning away from it, you couldn’t shake the itching responsibility to get back and see what mess awaited.

But at the same time, that terrified you beyond belief.

Most of all, however, your mind was swimming with colours. Shapes, snippets of designs floated in your brain. You weren’t sure when the last time that had happened was. You used to dream up your designs, when you were still beginning your career, desperate to create.

And though there were many scary things waiting for you, this revelation, this newfound desire to design again, lent your limbs new strength as you rolled from the bed.

Reclaiming your clothes from last night was first up; Tae had draped them over kitchen chairs to air out, but the smell lingered a little. It didn’t bother you too much, so you dressed quickly.

It was then that the soft creaking of floorboards caught your attention. You turned just in time to see Tae emerge from the bedroom, eyes barely cracked open while his lips were puffed out in an adorable pout, clearly only half-awake.

Stopping with an arm on the doorframe, hair flopping haphazardly around his face, he squinted across at you.

“Where are you going?” his low voice still rumbled in his throat, dry with disuse this morning.

Silently moving, you quickly padded across the floor towards him. None of the curtains were open yet, the watery morning light permeating the air tentatively.

In this dim space, you had the courage to lift your palms to press against his cheeks. On meeting his big eyes that stared across at you, you swallowed.

“There’s something I have to do,” you breathed, gaze skimming down his face as he watched you. Despite his bewildered state this early in the day, he was beginning to become more alert at your words.

Slowly, his fingers lifted to wrap gently around your wrist.

“Okay,” his voice remained husky, “but… you’ll come back?”

You tore your eyes from where they had focussed, without your consent, on his lips, to return his intent stare.

“Of course I will,” you whispered, mouth turning up at the corners.

For a moment, your breathing hitched. Such close distance between you two was becoming frequent, but you were far from used to it. Your cheeks still heated up, breath shallow as you savoured the softness of his skin under your hand.

Your eyes slid closed. In the relative darkness that encapsulated you, it was easy to think wishfully, imagine leaning closer in this timeless space where no one would see…

But then the moment passed, your hand slipping inconsequentially from his lingering grip.

Bringing your hand back to your side, you squeezed a smile his way and took a step backwards.

Then another.

He remained standing there as your pace sped up, and soon you were out of the door. As it closed behind you, you swore you could have seen a large pair of eyes blinking from between the trees.

Knowing what you did now, you couldn’t write it off, but neither did you pay any more attention, feeling a strange weightlessness as you trod the path to your house.

Going the short way this time, it didn’t take you long as you walked the tracks beside the glistening rice fields and farmland. Workers were already out, having risen with the sun which had fully emerged from the trees by now. As you passed, you exchanged nods and waves, smiling and giving good greetings to all you looked up at you.

Quiet fell again once you reached your road.

A nervous chill ran through you, but there was a thrill to it.

Approaching your house, you found two figures standing outside. With a frown, you drew closer.

“Auntie?” you called, making the women turn to you, “Mei?”

Mei’s warm face formed a friendly smile while your aunt beside her gawked. Recovering from her shook, she hurried to you, grasping your hands as your received her with confusion.

“Mei told me you were at Kim Taehyung’s? Is that true?”

With a glance to the old lady, you confirmed.

“That’s a relief,” your aunt laughed, “I came around yesterday to find you gone! You even left your phone!”

She was holding it out to you. Smiling weakly, you suddenly felt the weight of her watching you. Thankfully, Mei began to walk back towards her house, lessening your audience.

Sure enough, when you powered your phone on, it was instantly lighting up, ping after ping flooding your screen with notifications, calls and messages.

A frown made your aunt’s concern clear, but even you surprised yourself with your confidence as you simply grinned back.

“I have it under control,” you assured her, and walked up your steps to the door.

Inside, you took a breath, but could put it off no more. Beyond the fear of what you were about to do, lay the images of your home, the expansive fields and forests that had always been your source of inspiration. And now, a giant, friendly forest spirit-

And a hand, resting in yours.

The dial tone filled your ears, and you took a seat. Your notebook was still atop your desk, thrown aside to make way for your laptop, sat open with its screen dead. Nor had you disposed of your instant food wrappers-

“Y/N,” a stern voice crackled through the line. Your boss. “Where are those plans I asked you for?”

Though she couldn’t see you, you brought a smile to your face, summoned to lend you confidence.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised, already hearing the reprimand on her lips, “but something came up. And I… I have something to tell you.”

A sigh.

“Go on.”

“Well… I’ve been thinking. I appreciate all the opportunities I’ve had with this company, but I don’t think it’s taking me where I would like to go-“

“Y/N!” you weren’t sure you had ever heard so much emotion in your boss’ voice. Her voice rang with pure shock, “Do you mean to say-?”

“This is me, handing in my notice,” you spoke clearly, “thank you.”

Silence stretched out for longer than you could comfortably take. But, should you need to, you were ready to repeat yourself. Somewhere on the other line, you heard a muffled voice trying to get your boss’ attention, but it was soon gone again. You knew well the dismissive wave that person will have received.

“Very well,” she spoke at last.

And with that acceptance, you felt like you were floating.

There was a spring in your step even as you cleaned up the mess you had left behind, the whole time itching to get your hands on your pens and brushes.

You had quit. You had quit!

For so long, the notion would never have crossed your mind, the prospect of giving up too terrifying to consider. But you weren’t giving up, not at all. Maybe you were giving up on what you thought you wanted. Or what you had wanted, once upon a time, but now no longer fit you.

Instead of guilt or fear, you were filled with excitement. You knew what you wanted.

And you were halfway there.

This, however, was the easy part. No matter how hard it may be to rebuild your career, starting afresh, none of those obstacles scared you quite as much as the next thought to enter your mind.

Taehyung.

But you had promised him you would come back.

And perhaps one upheaval was enough for one day, you thought as you gathered your sketchbook, your paints. You could afford to hide from your feelings for a little longer, right?

You certainly couldn’t deny them, but you were afraid to admit them. Who knew what could happen then? You dared not hope for them being returned, and concluded to let yourself enjoy time with Tae for now.

After all, you were so excited to create, an almost alien passion that you were thrilled to welcome back.

And you could think of no one better to share this joy with. Taehyung was an artist too; he would understand.

Not far from Tae’s house, back past the open farmland, a familiar shape dominated the path in front of you. The sight of Totoro brought a smile to your face, reminding you of all the magic you had discovered in this place since you returned.

What you hadn’t quite expected was for them to be waiting for you. Unsure what to do, you settled for a quick bow and a quiet ‘hello’ as you continued.

Walking past the spirit, it just watched you for an extended moment before following along behind.

Taehyung was at the kitchen window when you arrived, and saw you coming. A boxy smile lit up his face before it disappeared from the window, emerging only seconds later in the doorway, a pair of paintbrushes clutched in his hand and dripping onto the porch. The day had bloomed into gorgeous full sun, and he held his hand up to shield his eyes from it as he watched you arrive.

A glance behind you confirmed Totoro was still following.

“They were standing around outside all morning,” Tae began talking, coming down the steps to meet you, “thought they wanted me to come into the forest, but when I tried, they walked even further down that way. What do you think’s got into them?”

“Beats me,” you shrugged, “but they seem happy enough now.”

Sure enough, Totoro had retreated a little further towards the treeline, still watching you both. For a moment, you and Tae both twisted around, looking back at the creature.

“Anyway…” you laughed.

Joining in, Tae led the way back inside, wiping his brushes against his trousers.

“Did you do what you needed to?” he asked, back facing you. The art supplies in your arms hadn’t gone unnoticed, and he was pulling out a chair to place next to his own setup.

“Yeah,” you hummed, setting your things down, “I, er- I quit my job.”

Brows lifting, Tae straightened up to face you. But his mouth soon slid into a bright smirk.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. You couldn’t keep your own beaming smile away from your face.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer.

“So you’re going to be around here for a while, then?”

“Yeah,” you smiled warmly, “I think I am.”

Over the next few hours, the image you had hoped for came to life. Sitting side by side, you and Tae both went about your works in pleasureable silence. Him, hidden behind an easel and periodically popping his head around it to survey they scenery, and you, meagre sketchbook propped on a cluttered desk.

It was perfect.

And finally, your creative energy was allowed to burst forth. For the first time since you were a student, you drew. And drew. And drew.

Pages seemed to fill themselves up, and if some thoughts were still unpolished, at least they were here, proof that you had never lost your spark, the spark which the fruitless toil of your old workplace had stamped out. Maybe you had just lost your way, temporarily.

And for that short afternoon, you were able to push all other thoughts from your mind. Especially those pertaining to a certain fluffy-haired artist with a boxy smile.

But even having half your worries settled was a relief.

That night, you returned home. Though you slept easier than the last time you were in this bed, you were ashamed of how much you longed for Tae’s presence next to you. Even when you had slept silently, barely touching save for the odd brush of an arm or leg when you rolled over, it was a grounding relief to have him there.

Luckily, you hadn’t even had to ask him yesterday if you could drop by again; he had leapt on the chance to invite you himself.

So you didn’t dwell on the way you reached out when you woke up, expecting to find a warm presence under the blankets with you. Instead, you happily climbed out of bed, ready to repeat your routine from yesterday.

This time, you at least brought some snacks along from your kitchen.

Today brought a large dose of d ja-vu along with it. Totoro was once again waiting for you, expectant. It took you off guard, but slipped your mind once you were back at Tae’s side, happily working for the remainder of the morning.

But Totoro didn’t give up. Those large eyes blinked through the window when the two of you went to prepare food.

“Do you want attention?” you chuckled, knowing you wouldn’t receive an answer.

“What do you say?” Tae’s low voice grew closer, “fancy a break outside?”

You were prevented from replying when his breath fell across your neck, causing you to stiffen. But he simply leaned over, hooking his chin lazily on your shoulder as he dropped another spoon into the sink where you were washing up.

“Y/N?” he frowned when met with your silence, small pout forming as he drew back to look at you.

You shook yourself.

“What? Oh, yes,” you tripped over your tongue, “that sounds great. Looks like Totoro would appreciate that too.”

With a laugh, Tae wiped his hands on a cloth.

“I’ll go get changed.”

Not long later, you were surrounded by trees, bathed now in deep shade that shielded you from the midday sun. Totoro had seemingly been satisfied by your attention, as they had followed you on your walk without protest.

Not that you were sure how they would protest if they wanted to, but your point stands.

It was strange how accustomed you were to the spirit by now, no longer staring over your shoulder at the creature. Instead, you were preoccupied by Tae as he ran, giggling, towards a tree with the perfect low-hanging branches for climbing.

By the time you had reached him, he was dangling, sloth-style, so that he was level with your head. His grin was just as goofy upside-down, and you swatted at his soft hair as it hung off his reddening face.

“Budge up,” you grinned, trying to hoist yourself up as well.

You had succeeded in getting onto the first branch when Totoro appeared by the base of the tree. Smiling down at them, you waited for Tae to clamber up to the next bough.

The moment you looked back to him, however, you felt a strange tug, shrieking when you found no branch below your feet. Looking about wildly, your feet flailed, scrabbling for any kind of purchase.

From where he hung onto a branch, Taehyung looked down sharply in a panic, but instead found you level with him.

Wide eyes stared at one another until the same feeling clutched at Tae, stomach dropping as he was miraculously lifted from his perch.

A look behind you showed Totoro still right there, also floating. One arm was holding you, Tae’s hand clutching the other. As you blinked in mute shock at the spirit, they opened their mouth, stretching into a wide grin. Laughter floated past your lips at the sight.

Somehow, you dodged the branches crossing your path as you ascended, though they grew sparser as you carried on upwards. Unlike your journey in the bus, you could feel a breeze coursing past you now.

Gaping in disbelief, you found Tae again, reaching out to him. Your expression was mirrored on his, and he eagerly entwined your free hands, smile softening as you were brought closer in the air.

And as you floated high above the ground, you somehow felt little difference than the way you always did when Tae was beside you, hand resting in your own.

You laughed again, a sound of pure joy, forgetting the spirit carrying you as you simply watched his eyes. Among the cool breeze, you felt a slight tickle of warmth from his breath.

As you watched, his smile slowly melted from his lips, captivated instead by your stare, though he looked no less peaceful.

But just as distant hills could be revealed beyond the thinning leaves, you felt a warm hold loosening around you. You hadn’t even noticed it, but now it was retracting, you could feel the spirit’s magic clearly and panicked. In an instant, you had grabbed the nearest branch, which was surprisingly sturdy.

In your rush, your hand had slipped from Tae’s, but a shudder of the branch told you he had also caught hold of it.

The calming magic slipped away completely.

Now clutching the tree for dear life, you looked down, but Totoro was nowhere to be seen. Squeezing your eyes shut, you sucked in a deep breath. Then, with a surge of energy, you swung further onto the branch, ignoring the way it lurched, to give you a steadier sitting place.

“You alright?” you panted.

Only a grunt answered you as Tae copied your action.

As he righted himself, you caught an uneasy wobble in his expression, instinctively holding out a hand.

“Come here.”

Gladly taking it, Taehyung’s shoulders lowered, easing a bit once you were connected. Waiting for him, you shimmied a short distance to rest where the branch met the trunk. On reaching you, Tae pressed closer, shoulder up against your own.

Smiling fondly, you twisted so you could reach your arms around him loosely.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, though you had no idea what had just happened.

“Not a fan of heights,” he murmured, but his deep voice did not seem panicked.

“At least it’s pretty,” you pointed out, nudging him the smallest amount to avoid toppling.

You were right. Between picture frames formed by intertwining branches, the land stretched out in the brilliant light. The same land that had always inspired you. How could you bring yourself to be irritated at Totoro for bringing you here?

“You seem remarkably calm,” a chuckle rumbled through Tae’s chest.

“I’m not sure anything else can surprise me now.”

He smiled, turning towards you. In this position, though, you were intimately close, his nose barely an inch from your own once he had twisted to look into your eyes. Inhaling sharply, you gripped the tree trunk harder.

“Why do you think they brought us here?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, not trusting your voice, “but they wouldn’t hurt us.”

“I know that,” Taehyung nodded, gaze dropping enough for you to deflate again.

Still holding onto each other like it was the most natural thing, you eyed the landscape for a little while longer, allowing quiet to elapse.

But this proximity wasn’t doing you any favours. Though you were sure Tae was oblivious, your heart was beating erratically, unable to forget his presence. All the thoughts that had occupied you lately were flooding in, except this time there was no escape.

Literally.

You were stuck in this tree next to the man who drove you crazy any time he looked your way. The man you were dying to spend time with the moment you woke up each day. The man who accepted you, supported you, reminded you where your true passion lay.

No, you couldn’t take this.

“Hey,” a low voice brushed your earlobe, just moments before a gentle finger found your chin, bringing it up.

You had barely noticed your gaze falling from the view in front of you while you lost yourself in useless circles of thought. Now, you couldn’t look away as shining dark eyes captivated your own.

“What are you thinking about?” Taehyung asked, lips curving upwards.

Licking your lips, you tore your eyes away. This was too much for your poor heart.

“Y/N?” he ducked to catch your eyes, brow creasing.

You were too weak for this boy. As soon as you saw the slight displeasure on his face, you longed to chase it away.

You sighed.

“You…”

Nearly as quiet as the breeze, you half hoped your admission would be carried away. But as you bit your tongue, daring to look up, you knew Tae had heard. His smile grew, though he tilted his head questioningly.

“What about me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you grinned, looking away again. This was too risky. Maybe he would buy the joke and drop it before you made a fool of yourself-

“I was thinking about you too.”

You blinked.

“You were?”

He hummed, not a trace of insincerity in his large eyes as he nodded.

“Well…” you picked subconsciously at your sleeve, “what were you thinking about?”

“Nosy,” he griped, taking a light swipe at your nose with his forefinger.

Succeeding in bringing a smile to your face as you jerked your head away with a laugh, he sighed, shuffling closer indetectably.

“I was wondering… maybe Totoro did this because of you-“ just as you gaped indignantly, he hurried on “-because of us. They put us up here… together.”

“Oh. Yeah,” you nodded, brow furrowing.

“But even if- if that’s not the case…”

Taehyung trailed off, bringing your attention back to him. He wet his lips, sucking his lower one between worrying teeth before meeting your eyes again.

“We’re alone and, well… I was wondering what it would be like to kiss you.”

That knocked all the air out of your lungs. You sucked a shaky breath, then out.

“What it would be like?” you echoed.

He nodded, gulping.

And then something snapped. Unable to stand it anymore, you slid your hand to his jaw, the next moment surging forwards, lips colliding desperately.

His arms tugged you closer instantly, pulling you against him, fingers grasping at your waist hungrily as he titled his head to meet you. And heaven, it felt amazing. His lips were as soft as they looked, leaving you lapping at them with desire as his caressed yours just as dreamily, simultaneously intense with longing pressure and gentle with reverence.

Caving to him completely, you let yourself mould to his embrace. The flowing wind around you, the rustling of the leaves were utterly driven from your mind by the maddening nudge of his tongue, prompting you to deepen the kiss.

But though your fingers still clutched his jaw desperately, you were forced to break the kiss, falling away giddy and breathless.

Tae lifted a hand to your hair as well, stroking it soothingly as he pulled you close again, foreheads touching.

“Well…” you were the first to recover your voice, “I think it would feel something like that.”

A smile burst onto his face, dominating your vision, no doubt a copy of your own ecstatic grin.

Almost immediately, a strong wind ripped through the treetops. Wiping the smile from your face, you gripped tighter to both the tree and to Taehyung.

He looked around.

Following his gaze, sure enough, you were met with two large eyes staring innocently back at you.

A beat consisted of you blinking at one another in silence, before a gasping laugh burst from your mouth. Clapping a hand over it, you met Tae’s eyes, also finding him dissolve into laughter that creased his eyes.

“Looks like you were right,” you chuckled as the warm magic began to lift you once again.

“You were just waiting for us to confess!” Tae cried.

But the wide smile on his face as he pulled you closer mid-flight showed he was far from outraged.

That night saw you tumbling at last into the same bed as Tae again. You didn’t want to leave, and you never had to.

Over time, you moved in, your own things settling among the paintings, brushes and pots that filled Tae’s house. Your house.

Every day you would see the trees, feel the wind through your hair and the sun glowing between the forest branches – the very place where you had finally given into the love binding you.

And you drew. You drew and drew, and designed until you were making a name in your own right. People would ask you about the distinctive round creatures that commonly featured in your designs. Of course, you would always laugh, a familiar sound that you shared with your boyfriend, keeping the unofficial secret between yourselves.

The two of you knew, not only the forest spirits, but the dust bunnies and flurries of wind that snaked through the roof timbers on the coldest nights. And then, you could always be assured of a warm presence beside you, to hold you through the night.

But above all, you got to see that glorious smile every day, never fading from your life.

You could breathe again.

Thank you for reading! If you want more, there is a follow up drabble here. Come chat with me if you enjoyed it!

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ficwritingtragedywaifu · 3 years ago

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Safety Tips~

I see so many running safety tips. For people who live in the city, or places with a high crime rate.

I don't know who needs this, but if you live in the countryside like me. Where the nearest store is 3-5 miles away. Here's a few little tips to keep you a bit safer/ survive longer.

Because I live in the country side. It's got a low crime rate for violence. But we do have a serious disappearance issue.

During Morning Runs:

I wave to my neighbors, and people on the trail I pass.

The more people know your face the better. The less likely you are to go missing without a trace. If you're a frequent runner and don't show up 3-4 days in a row. Someone will notice without fail. I've gotten myself well recognized by firefighters, police officers, and other runners remembering to wave, give a thumbs up, or even just mutter a hello. Goes a long way for safety purposes.

If you take a bag with you to carry your water and such. But won't carry it the whole time you're running that's fine. However do not ever leave your identification in your backpack. Carry an ID, Debit Card, Medical Card, on you at all times. Everyone please shove it in your undies.

It's gonna be an uncomfortable run, but worth it because if anyone is trying to kidnap you. They're gonna wanna make it look like, you've completely disappeared. The first thing they'll do is chuck your phone, and your personal belongings.

Now I wear my headphones while running, obviously not safe but I have Misophonia. Which I know quite a few of us in this community do have as well. But to balance this I keep the volume low. Listen for any additional sounds, bushes, leaves, twigs, water splashing.

We have a lot of wild animals out here. coyotes, bears, deer, crocodiles, ect. Things that there's just a slim ass chance to survive an attack from.

So if you hear anything that doesn't sound human. Pinpoint the location of the sound. Don't turn your back to it. But retreat nonetheless and for the love of god actually stop running.

I know it's instinct to wanna get as far away as fast as you can. But running is sometimes seen as hostile towards animals. I was chased down by some male deer when I 12-13 because I was running through the neighborhood.

This was back when I lived in the city before I knew better. Luckily there was a highway nearby. I ran out onto it, and that stopped their chase. They were afraid to get hit by a car. And I was clearly not. Getting killed by a deer was way more scary. So again, retreat but try not to run.

During Night Runs:

Try to stay in well lit areas. My neighborhood has exactly one street light, every three blocks and no traffic lights. Which isn't great and sometimes makes me feel anxious. So I'll take my bike into downtown, park it and run around there instead. Yes It's extra work to lug a bike up so many hills. When you just wanna do a quick run. But It's not worth it to run where you don't feel safe.

If It's possible run in areas you know have cameras. At night I've taken to my local elementary school, or the little league baseball fields. I know I'm being recorded, if something happens someone will see. Because that footage is checked every day or nearly everyday for the safety of kids.

Lastly I can not stress this enough. And It's gonna sound fucking crazy. But don't run on the sidewalk. Run in the middle of the street. You can see both sides of you easily. Nobody can pop out of bushes and grab you. And cars can not just pull up alongside you and snatch you in. Because you can move into the opposite lane of traffic. Which buys you some time to get away, as they'll have to make a U-Turn for you.

If the road you're on is a forest road. And a car comes for you when you cross. Do not attempt to buy time getting away. By running straight down the road. Concealment is your friend go for the trees. Weave around them to buy time. But stay within earshot of the road. So if you hear another car coming you can make a beeline for it.

This isn't an exhaustive list of things to do. But these are the ones I practice regularly. (And have had experience with unfortunately.) If anyone can think to add more safety tips please do!

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cajunquandary · 4 years ago

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The One with Red Sky at Morning

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel

Summary: After a difficult hunt, you and the Winchester brothers want nothing more than to rest. As fate would have it, things don’t go so smoothly.

Warnings: Natural disaster, a little flangsty.

WC: 2300

A/N: This was written for @smol-and-grumpy “NAT’S SUPERFRIENDS TITLE CHALLENEGE.” My title was “The One with Red Sky at Morning.” I actually wrote several versions of this but settled on this one. A very similar situation happened to me when I was very young, out hunting with my father deep in the woods of South Georgia. All we had was a four-wheeler and a lot of quick prayers. To this day I don’t know how we made it out alive. Enjoy my first writing back from a three-year hiatus! This might get rough. Suggestions welcome!

Also, sorry not sorry, I was feeling giffy~

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring past a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead, a black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

This must be it, the end.

You stumble sleepily out of the slight motel bathroom and over to the coffee maker. Without so much as peeking, you masterfully load the grounds and water and press the magic button. Oh, how you love that button. Scratchy bedsheets stir behind you, but you pay no attention. A shadow of a smirk creeps across your face. The holy bean water is ready. You take the much-too-small Styrofoam cup with you to sit at the table by the window. Lifting the chalice of your soul to your lips, you inhale as if you’d been starved of oxygen all night. Your eyes gradually open, adjusting easily to the low light of the room. The sweet scent helps to knock the cobwebs from your mind, the warmth radiating from your palms to the depths of your bones.

What a week it’d been. But right now, you don’t want to think of the vamp nest or their victims. Right now, you revel in the tranquility. In the bed near the door, Sam is rubbing the sleep from his eyes, no doubt about to share some coffee with you at the table. On the couch, Dean’s limbs are sprawled in awkward positions, but he still snores gently.

Finally, a smile graces your lips as you watch Dean. He’s so peaceful. There’re no lines on his forehead or forlorn frown below his freckle dusted cheeks. You almost wish he could stay like that forever—at peace. You also wonder what it might be like to touch him, hold him. After the hunt and almost losing him, being more than a few inches away from the man actually hurts. You couldn’t imagine never again seeing those deep, loving eyes, or the way he sings in the car, or dances when he thinks no one is around.

Catching you just before you jump off the deep end into thoughts and memories of Dean, Sam finds his seat next to you. Trying to brush the obvious daydreaming off as nothing, you take a gulp of coffee, only to grimace in pain as it burns all the way down, leaving your upper lip and tongue tingling.

Sam chuckles. “You know it’s hot, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” And so is something else in the room, you can’t help but to think to yourself.

You set the rude drink upon the table and stand to open the curtains. With a thrust, the stubborn things release and reveal the world outside.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. You stare for a moment just to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You rub them. You stare a moment more, then rub them again. Red skies morning, sailors take warning.

You look over to Sam, your body rigid.

“What is it, Y/N?”

“Sam, check the weather. Now.”

As if on cue, Dean’s phone is the first to sound the alarm, shortly followed by yours and Sam’s.

“It’s a weather alert—severe storms coming,” Sam stood from the table to look outside as well.

Dean groans from the space behind you, “Well then let’s get a move on.”

You don’t even bother getting dressed, instead throwing one of Dean’s old flannels over your thin t-shirt and leggings. Just like your days in EMS, your boots and pack stand ready next to your bed.

Within a minute, everyone slides into the impala, coffee forgotten. As Dean pulls onto the highway, you and Sam map out the fastest way to get home to the bunker with the least amount of bad weather to drive through, looking for a place to stop for food if possible.

Around two hours in, the drive is going decently well, with only a few patches of hail and heavy rain. You begin to doze off to the comforting lull of the Impala and the Allman Brothers.

Your body betrayed you as it twitched violently. Still on edge after the hunt, you jump from the action, accidentally hitting Dean in the shoulder.

“You good?” He glances quickly in your direction, adjusting his hand on the wheel.

Heart beat loud in your ears, you lean back and return a quiet “yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

No rest for the wicked or the hunters, you suppose.

Dean hums along to the music. You are powerless watching the vibration of his neck, wondering what it might be like if your lips were to touch the spot where his pulse rippled the skin. You look down at your phone in an attempt to distract yourself.

Pulling up the weather app, you report the developing spot just up ahead. The brothers take note, then you lean against the window and watch the blur of pine forests and rolling fields. Even overcast, the landscape is breathtaking. You reminisce on your days in the back of the “bus,” what it was like when the tone would drop and in seconds you’d be flying down the road, lights and sirens, mentally preparing for the unknowns waiting for you on the scene. After ten years, there wasn’t much you hadn’t seen. This knowledge and wisdom helped but still couldn’t prepare you when a changeling become your patient.

You catch yourself, not wanting to remember the details of the attack, the ambulance rollover, or the death of your partner. You don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if the Winchester boys hadn’t shone up when they did, or if you’d stayed in that town after the bodies were found.

Wiping an unwelcome tear from the corner of your eye, you refocus on the trees, enjoying their dances under the influence of wind lines.

Until one fell, bending until it snapped, twisting off halfway. Then another, and another.

“Uh, guys?” When had it gotten so dark? You check your phone for the time again. Almost three in the afternoon.

You don’t need to look behind you to know what it is. You don’t get the chance to tell Dean to floor it—he already is. You grip the seat tightly as the car lurches forward, shaking under the speed and the wind force.

It’s as if an invisible giant is stepping down on the forest on both sides of the highway. Oncoming traffic has ceased, some people have already bailed from their cars, seeking scant shelter in the ditches. Leaves and branches now swirl through the sky, littering the road ahead. Dean takes the next exit, not slowing down a bit.

You are so close to the bunker now, but the echoes of the angry titan behind you threaten to devour the Impala before you even have a chance for safety. You hazard a glance behind you.

No more than a mile behind the racing car, the tornado swallows the whole world, preceded by the biggest cloud of debris you’ve ever seen.

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring after a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead and the rotating black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

You are covered in glass from the back window, the wind sucking the breath from your lungs. Sam reaches over and pulls you into his lap, holding as tightly as your eyes are shut. Dean masterfully swerves in an out, dodging unknown obstacles and navigating winding roads.

You recognize these turns. The bunker!

Castiel is already perched at the edge of the garage when you open your eyes. Still at full speed, Dean swerves the car inside, causing it to slide sideways and leave thick rubber tracks. Castiel struggles against the wind and grabs Dean as he bails from Baby.

“I can’t close it! We have to take cover, now,” Cas yells over the train whistle screams of the tempest.

Not missing a beat, Sam grabs you and doesn’t even pause to set you down. The alarms in the bunker sound off, competing with the storm.

You all finally tumble through the door and slam it locked behind you. You grunt as your ears pop from the pressure change and rub your jaw.

Heavily breathing from the ordeal, the four of you trade nodding glances, indicating that everyone is okay.

You are the first to break the silence, shaking bits of glass from your shirts. “I need a drink.”

Castiel and Sam follow you down the steps, but stop to sit in the war room. Dean trails on your heels, also eager for a drink. You grab the bottle but keep walking, ready to be in your own bed already.

Dean protests. “Hey, you gonna share?”

“Sure, but you’ll have to follow me.”

Once in your room, you take a long draught from the already open bottle of whiskey, then turn and hand it to Dean.

“Close your eyes, Winchester.”

Dean does as told, bottle already suspended at his lips.

You pause for a moment to admire those lips and the way they purse when he swallows. It catches your breath but you turn away, stripping the glass-ridden clothes into a pile on the floor. You curse under your breath as you realize the clothes that other than the ones still in the car, the rest were in the laundry room, several wings down.

You grab a pillow to shield yourself just in time as Dean opens his eyes to see what the matter is. He apologizes quickly and turns away. “What’s wrong?”

“No clothes.”

Without hesitation, he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders and extends it in your direction.

“Thanks.” You are so glad that his eyes are still averted so he can’t see your red face, the blush stretching through your whole body. You quickly slip inside the shirt and bottom it, thankful that it reaches nearly to your knees. You pause at the collar, lifting it to your nose and nearly fall as the heady scent of him fills your senses. Dean, standing now, catches you just in time, closer to you than ever before. His hands rest gently at your sides, and he chuckles sweetly as he leans in to kiss your hair. The whiskey still warming your bones, you wrap your arms around him, interlocking your fingers and burying your face into his bare chest. He pulls you in tighter, squeezing.

The stress of almost losing him on the hunt to that fang and of nearly becoming flying sky trash slowly falls away within the shelter of his embrace. He leans onto the bed and back farther, taking you with him until you’re both under the blankets completely intertwined.

The dim light provided by a small lamp in the corner casts just enough shadow that you can count the freckles dusted on Dean’s cheeks and get lost in the hazel green folds of his eyes. Could this really be happening? Is the hunter you’d be pining for silently for over a year really holding you this closely—in your own bed?

Your breath mixes with his when he leans in even closer and brushes your lips with his. You close your eyes and relish in the warmth and comfort and safety of his arms, the softness and taste of his lips, stubble grazing your chin.

You can still perceive faint sounds of the raging storm outside, but you have no more fear. You pull away slightly to enjoy the sweet smile on Dean’s face until a passing shadow crosses it.

An elated “finally” can be heard near the doorway. Sam winks and closes the door, retreating footsteps resonating down the hall.

A new storm blooms in your core as you surrender yourself to the ease of being so close to Dean. Together, you trade secrets and promises in the intimate moments before slowly falling asleep to the comfort of his voice.

Red skies morning, sailors take warning. Red skies night, sailors delight.

With the red flashes of the bunker floodlights filling the air, you did certainly delight, safe at last. Any wreckage could wait until morning.

TAG LIST:

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @akshi8278 @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby

*To be added or removed, shoot me a message

#Supernatural #chris writes #writing challenge #dean x reader #winchester #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #bunker #Baby #storm #the one with red sky at morning

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inorganicone2230 · 4 years ago

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Time and Time Again (Prologue) 1930′s Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Part 1

Summary: An accident that should have killed you has instead left you stranded decades in the past with no apparent way to get home. You are saved and offered assistance by Kai Chisaki, a charming young man at the head of a powerful yakuza organization, who oddly enough believes your story. But Kai seems to have more on his mind concerning you than simply lending a helping hand, and as the days turn into weeks, you begin to wonder if he’s ever going to let you leave.

Warnings: None for this chapter. Warnings and tags will be updated as the chapters progress.

Side Note: I do NOT and never will condone the actions committed in this and future chapters, please be mindful and respectful of the fact that all of this is purely fiction.

And as always, I want to give a BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn’t for all of their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to read this to go over to their page or their AO3 account under the same name and check out their works, especially Chaos and Erase The Shadow. They are two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME!

There were both pros and cons to living so far up in the wooded mountains, secluded away from any and all people most of the time. There was the wonderful feeling of freedom that came with not having to worry about the goings on of civilization and the people that went along with it, but there was also a sense of isolation that caused the stirrings of cabin fever every now and then that forced you to make a run into town for groceries and other such necessities to avoid going completely stir crazy.

Living off of a modest inheritance left to you by your deceased grandmother as well as living in the cabin she left you, combined with your gig as a freelance nature photographer allowed you to live the kind of quiet life you’d always wanted and there was very little you cared to change about it. The only time living in the refurbished cabin became a hassle was when winter would roll around and you’d have to start planning for your long months of isolation, like right now for instance, but you've been doing it for a few years so far and by now it felt less like a hectic scramble and more like a chore.

Some people had spring cleaning every year, well, you had winter prep. The roads were practically inaccessible once the snow started falling and even when they were cleared of it, they were still so icy that you wouldn’t want to chance driving on them unless the situation was a life or death emergency, so making sure you were well stocked up on whatever you may need over the coming months was a must.

Plenty of non-perishable food in the pantry and deep freeze along with other household/medical necessities? Check.

Lots of wood for the stove and fuel for the generator? Check.

Winter clothes and snow clearing equipment all pulled out of storage? Check.

“Alrighty, I think that’s everything!” You cheered, happy to finally be done with that tiresome chore.

There really wasn’t much else left to do after making sure all of that was done. Now it was just a waiting game to see when the snow would finally start falling. For the time being though, the mountain was still wrapped in the colors of fall, with rustling leaves in different shades of orange and red littering the forest floor to create an almost hypnotic sound as you walked the trails you knew like the back of your hand and you felt like today would be the perfect time to go out and snap a few pictures of the shifting seasons.

The nature blog you ran was starting to get a lot of traffic and editors from different magazines and other such places were beginning to take notice of you, allowing you to make a fair amount of money by selling your photos off to them, and since you worked independently and weren’t contracted with anyone, it also allowed you to sell to multiple different buyers, thus garnering you a few more payments then usual.

Photography had always been a passion of yours and you were very happy that it was now your career of choice and you could make a living doing what you loved. You had originally only intended to stay in this cabin for a year or two, just long enough to save up some money to purchase an apartment and a photography studio in the city, but the more time you spent in the quiet of the woods made you appreciate just how much the undisturbed solitude meant to you. Now, five years later, you were more than happy to call the quaint little place your forever home.

Bundled up in some warm clothes and a pair of stylish hiking boots, you left the cabin, locking the door behind you just in case. It was a beautiful day out, with endless blue skies and streams of sunlight shining through the shedding tree as you walked the trails near your home. You would stop every few minutes to take a picture in the right light, sometimes even catching a few of the woodland critters in your shots. There was a particular raccoon with a scar across his nose that you recognized as being the one that likes to hang out in your shed during the coldest part of the winter, he was so comfortable around you that he would sometimes even eat out of your hand and let you pet him.

You had been walking for the better part of an hour now, the makeshift trail gradually getting less noticeable as you continued along it. You had an extensive knowledge of the area, but you rarely ever left the trails or walkways through the trees to avoid getting lost, but just as you were contemplating turning around and heading home for the day, you spotted something that you hadn’t ever noticed before. There was a gap between two large lilac bushes, and through said gap was an overgrown pathway that led further into the canopy of trees. You had never noticed it before, most likely because of how narrow and and tightly woven into the trees it was, a deer or bear must have walked through at some point, splitting open the space between the tangled foliage and revealing the path.

You debated with yourself for a moment on whether or not you should follow it to see where it led, and in the end, your curiosity and the desire to get some shots of this new area got the best of you. Besides, it was still early in the day and the sun wouldn’t be setting for at least another five or six hours, you had plenty of time to walk the fading trail and still make it back before it got dark out.

With your mind made up, you began to walk, making extra certain that you were paying attention and not wondering off the path. It really was overgrown with grass and other debris, sometimes almost seeming to disappear and end all together. The last thing you wanted was to accidentally get yourself lost because you failed to take proper note of your surroundings.

You had been walking for a good hour by this point and had managed to get a lot of really good pictures though, the area was lovely and you couldn’t wait until spring/summer rolled around again so you could get shots of all the little fields filled with patches of wildflowers. You always got so distracted behind the camera, and because of that, you almost missed the faint sound of rushing water nearby. Curiously following the sound, you eventually found where the hidden trail led too.

Stepping out of the tree line, you realized that the path ended at the top of a cliff overlooking a small valley and a 100ft drop into a raging river. It was a gorgeous view, the forest below stretching out for miles in all directions and bathed in the colors of autumn as you took a step closer towards the edge to get a few shots. Heights had never been much of an issue for you, so you figured that as long as you didn’t get too close to the edge then you should be in the clear.

The sound of the water was like the perfect white noise and a gentle but chilled breeze blew through the air and you knew that you would have to come back here once the weather warmed up again. It would be the perfect spot to set up a blanket on a nice day and read a book or sort through the pictures you would send off to magazines and other buyers.

Satisfied that you now had enough material to last you at least a few weeks until the seasonal change shifted to winter, you turned away from the breathtaking view to head back the way you had come but stopped short when you heard a bone chilling sound.

Crack…

Before you had time to react, the ledge you were standing on crumbled and split from the rest of the cliff, sending you falling down towards the foaming waters of the river, your scream lost to the solitude of the mountain as you quickly lost conscience.

Not a whole lot of excitement in this one, but I promise, our golden eyed hunk will make his appearance in the next chapter! You can find the link up-top under the title.

#yandere!overhaul #yandere!overhaul x reader #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #1930's au #time travel #no quirks au #yakuza #the beginnings of yandere behavior #typical yandere behavior #yandere bnha

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jarienn972 · 4 years ago

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Weathering the Storm - Part Three

When I started writing this story months ago, I had the events all plotted out and honestly planned to finish writing it over the course of a few weeks. Unfortunately, the stresses of real life got in the way and I all but abandoned writing for a while. I'm finally getting back to a place where I can form complete, coherent sentences again so I'm getting a few new chapters out for my WIP stories. In this chapter, we're picking up from Emma's POV again as she tries to figure out why Killian has yet to return or contact her amidst the severe thunderstorms pounding Storybrooke.

Since it’s been quite a while since the last chapter was posted, you can catch up here on Tumblr - Part 1 Part 2 All 3 parts are also available on AO3 and FF.net

Was this storm ever going to end? Emma found herself wondering as she silently cursed the rain that continued to pelt Main Street. The typically bustling street itself was already looking more akin to a swollen creek than a roadway as the storm drains overflowed. Mini rivers of rainwater gushed along the curbs in search of an outlet while they flowed towards the harbor.

The power had flickered a few times but still wasn't coming back on. She figured there were likely some lines down around town due to the strong wind gusts or maybe even a blown transformer somewhere that overloaded the grid. Anything was possible with the severely outdated infrastructure around here. They really needed to conjure some upgraded utility systems in Storybrooke but no one ever seemed to get around to it.

A thought crossed her mind about the possibility of controlling the weather with her magic before she sighed somberly and closed the blinds covering the station's front window. No use sitting out here watching the rain falling, she thought as she made the short stroll back to her office determined to try reaching Killian, either by phone or over the radio. Maybe it wasn't raining as bad on the other side of town…?

Her backside had barely settled onto her chair when the vibration of her cell phone on the desktop startled her. She spun about and snatched it up in hopes that she'd see her husband's name on the screen. Her excitement immediately diminished when she noticed that it was her father calling instead.

"Hi, Dad," she answered, trying to disguise the disappointment in her voice. "What's up? Are you staying dry out there on the farm?"

"Very funny…," he groaned over the crackling connection. "We've got more than an inch of water in the barn and a lake where the garden should be, but that's not why I'm calling. Were either of you out patrolling on County Highway 2?"

"Killian was headed out to Zelena's place earlier. Somebody threw a brick through her living room window so he went out to get her statement and see if it might have been related to the recent string of vandalism around town. He left here about two hours or so ago, maybe a little longer… Why do you ask?"

"Because our favorite melodramatic dwarf just stopped by here to say that he drove by the cruiser out there while on his way into town. He said it was parked on the side of the highway and appeared to be running, but he didn't see anyone in it. Of course, we are talking about Leroy so he could have been exaggerating... But since this seemed to have bothered him enough to stop here and tell me about it - although not enough to get out and take an actual look at the cruiser - it got me a little concerned, so I figured I should check with you…" David knew he was rambling but he also noticed Emma's hesitation before replying.

"I've been trying to reach Killian but he hasn't answered. I was actually hoping it was him when you called…"

"You've tried the radio?"

"Of course, I have," she snapped back in frustration, but she tempered her ire before continuing. "I figured he got stuck out at Zelena's. With the power out all over town and the already crappy cell phone service out there, he might not have been able to call…" But then why would the cruiser be out on the side of the highway running? "Did Leroy happen to say how long ago he saw the car?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Maybe ten? Fifteen?" David replied. "Look, I can drive out there and see what's going on if you'd like…"

"No, Dad. I'll go check it out."

"Emma, my truck will handle these flooded roads better than that little Bug of yours."

"I wasn't planning on driving," she informed him as she hurried to collect her still-damp leather jacket. "I'll poof out there and take a look. Hopefully I'll be able to see what's going on but I could still use your help. Could you come here to the station? Henry's here with me waiting out the storm since the station generator at least gives us some lights. He might need a ride home…"

"Why don't I just stay there at the station? I could help field any calls that might come in…"

"Dad…"

"No arguments. I'm volunteering," he insisted.

"Okay, okay… I'll let Henry know you're coming. Thanks for the help."

"That's what family is for. Now get out there and see what's going on with the cruiser and that husband of yours."

David disconnected the call as Emma tugged on her jacket. She pocketed her phone, not particularly keen on going back out into this lousy storm but she had to find out why Leroy saw the cruiser parked on the side of the road but no Killian inside it. First though, she needed to tell Henry she was leaving and before she could even take a step towards the break room, she spied her son rounding the corner.

Sometimes this kid really did have a sixth sense she didn't fully understand.

"Who was that you were talking to? Was it Killian?" he asked as he approached.

"No, it was David. I have to head out to investigate something that just came up. He's coming here to help man the office until either Killian or I get back."

"Must be something pretty serious for you to go out again in this weather…"

"I honestly don't know yet," she answered, trying to be as vague as possible so the boy wouldn't worry. "That's why I'm going to go check it out. Just stay here and stay inside, even if the rain lets up."

"The only place I'd even think about going right now would be Granny's. I'm getting pretty hungry and at least she could throw together a sandwich…"

"You can raid my snack drawer," she chuckled. "I'm not going to worry about you spoiling your dinner tonight."

"Okay! Good luck with your investigation."

"Thanks, kid. I've got a feeling I'm going to need it…" she lamented as she gave a slight flick of her wrist and vanished in a puff of grey smoke.

**********

Brow knitted in a blend of confusion and apprehension, she approached the vehicle with caution. It might be the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a thunderstorm, but this was still Storybrooke. She'd learned the hard way that anything could happen here at any time so a Savior-Sheriff had to be prepared. While she didn't see anything out of the ordinary through the rear window, aside from the fact there were no visible heads above the seats, she wasn't going to rush.

"Killian?" she called out as she inched towards the car, sloshing through puddles that were soaking through her boots. If she'd come all the way out here to find him curled up sleeping in the back seat of the cruiser…

Only she found the back seat empty once she finally had a view through the side window and the front seat was unoccupied as well. A quick glance through the driver's side window revealed the keys in the ignition as expected but it also appeared that the dash camera had been turned on. So, this was a traffic stop? Then where in the hell was her husband?

Her first instinct was to yank open the driver's side door and climb inside but her instincts led her to take a moment and do a precursory inspection of the scene first. While the rain would have washed away any tire tracks or footprints, her gut told her that there might be other clues and it didn't take long for her to locate the first one when the toe of her boot kicked something out of a puddle next to the front tire.

Something that looked strangely like a cell phone.

She discarded the currently useless umbrella as she stooped to retrieve the phone and winced as she sliced open the pad of her thumb on a sliver of shattered glass. She wasn't surprised to find that the device was dead, which could have resulted from it hitting the ground, but the damage was definitely hastened by the rain. Killian must have dropped it. That's why he wasn't answering the calls. It just didn't explain his disappearance.

Placing the useless phone onto the hood of the cruiser, she continued her survey of the area and walked around to the front of the car. She noted that the passenger side tire was flat which provided another small clue. Trying to change a flat tire during a thunderstorm with one hand and a hook wouldn't have been a safe thing to do, but this small fact raised as many questions as it answered. She lifted her head and stared out at the expanse of dense forest that extended for miles on either side of the highway although she couldn't imagine that Killian would have been crazy enough to venture out there in this weather, even if it was in pursuit of a suspect.

No, there had to be some other explanation. Some important piece of this puzzle was missing, she thought as she tugged open the passenger side door of the car and flopped onto the seat, thankful to be out of the rain for even just a little while. Her eyes immediately went to the dashcam that, from outside of the car, had appeared to be recording. Up close, she could see that the Recording light was indeed illuminated although the LED display screen had turned off. She'd only had these things installed in the cruiser and in the Bug a few months ago so she wasn't entirely sure if the screen was in standby mode or if it was malfunctioning, but she was thankful that at least Killian had remembered to turn the thing on.

She fumbled with different buttons surrounding the screen for a few tense moments trying to figure out how to make it stop recording and switch to playback. She really should have read the whole manual when she put these in... There wasn't time to hunt through it right now but somehow, she managed to get it working. As the screen lit up, the grainy, black and white display showed that there was two hours and sixteen minutes of footage, a lot more elapsed time than a traffic stop should have taken. It was also right about the time that the storm front would have reached Storybrooke.

An eerie sense of dread washed over her as she pressed the Play button and the digital replay opened to a view of a parked, dark-colored sedan. She'd have to see the footage on a bigger screen to make out more of the detail but it appeared to be a Toyota. She was just happy that she could make out the digits in the license plate even if she'd have to take a guess on the state. It definitely wasn't a Maine or Massachusetts tag. She'd be able to recognize either of those but hazarding a guess, she thought it was probably New Hampshire.

There was no sound to accompany the video so there was no way for her to know exactly what was being said as she watched the image of Killian walking casually up to the driver's window of the stopped sedan. She could see that there was a short conversation before Killian took a step backward and then suddenly staggered out of the camera's view. Emma's breath hitched in her throat as a man appeared at the passenger side of the dark sedan, climbing into the vehicle just before its engine started up, the driver leaned out of the window, brandishing what looked like a gun for a few seconds, and then the car peeled away and disappeared down the lonely highway.

What the hell did I just watch? The feed was too blurry for her to get a good view of the driver and she had only a few fleeting glimpses of the other suspect's profile. Had they shot out the front tire? It seemed pretty likely but what had caused Killian to fall out of the frame? Why hadn't he called this in?

Had they shot him?

She fast-forwarded the footage a few minutes ahead to see an image of Killian stumbling awkwardly back toward the cruiser and then slumping against the front end. His dark clothing may have obscured any overt signs of injury but the distressed expression on his face revealed all she needed to know. He was hurt and she had no way of knowing how severely based on the video.

He slid out of the camera's range again and she continued to press the fast-forward button until she saw his hook catch onto the void between the hood and the frame and his face appeared in front of the camera. He looked unsteady on his feet, his features scrunched in agony. At one point, he looked directly into the camera, eyes pleading for help that wasn't coming. And then he pushed himself away from the car and staggered out of the camera's line of sight again. She forwarded all the way to the end of the feed and he didn't reappear.

"Oh, god, Killian… Where are you?" she asked aloud, not that she expected anyone to hear her.

He had to have been shot. It was the only thing that made any sense, but everything had happened so fast... Why hadn't he called for help? Had he broken his phone during the altercation or had he dropped it later because his hand was too shaky? Why didn't he get in the car and use the radio? Even if he hadn't reached her at the station, he could have contacted the State Police over the emergency channel. Had he not remembered how to do it or which channel he was supposed to use? She couldn't even imagine what must have been going through his mind but if it was anything like the panic she was experiencing just watching this on replay, she wasn't even sure if she could recall which channel was the emergency one.

She grabbed the radio's microphone from its cradle and depressed the button on the side, hoping that her dad had arrived at the Sheriff station by now. She was going to need his assistance.

"David, are you there? Over." She released the button and waited impatiently for his response.

"Emma - I'm here," he replied after a few short seconds. "Did you find anything out there? Over."

"The cruiser, yes. Killian - no." Her response was blunt and she allowed enough of a pause for David to know she was done with the formal radio etiquette.

"Damn…" was the first response she heard before David realized he'd pushed down on the button too soon. "Any indication of what happened?"

"Thankfully, Killian remembered to turn on the dashcam. He made a traffic stop and apparently, there was an altercation. I'm going to need you to call the State Police and see if they can run a plate for us while our systems are down."

"Sure. Just give me the tag number. And just what do you mean by altercation?"

She dodged his question and provided just the necessary facts. "Vehicle is a dark sedan, likely a recent-model Toyota. Plate is New Hampshire, I think. J73 422."

David knew instinctively that something must be wrong for her to avoid his question but he didn't press her for it. "Got it. Should we have them put out an All Points for the car? If so, what reason are we giving them?"

"Possible officer-involved shooting," she replied as matter-of-factly as her current state of mind would allow. She could picture the look on her father's face right now though as he processed her statement.

"Can you repeat that?" his voice begged over the tinny radio speaker.

"It looks like the driver may have shot Killian but I can't verify that until I find him, and that's what I need to do… Have them put out an APB for the vehicle which was occupied by two men. Unfortunately, I don't have a better description. The dashcam video screen is just too small and too fuzzy."

"Will do, Emma. Where do you think he went? There's a lot of forest out there…"

"But there's only one farmhouse. I think he would have headed towards Zelena's place."

"It's not very far but why would he leave the cruiser behind and go on foot if he'd been shot?"

"The suspects shot out the front tire. His phone's shattered and I have no idea why he didn't try to radio for help. I just know that he'd try his damnedest to reach the closest place he thought he could get help."

"I'll put the call in to the State Police. You go find your husband and Henry and I will man the fort here. Your mother sent a three course meal and a thermos of hot cocoa with cinnamon with me so we're well provisioned until we know what's going on."

"Thanks," she replied, managing a weak smile as she replaced the microphone into the cradle on the side of the radio and reached over to turn off the cruiser's engine. She slipped the keys into her pocket figuring she'd worry about retrieving the vehicle later. She didn't need a car to reach the former Wicked Witch's farmhouse.

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs canon divergence #captain swan ff #weathering the storm #killian whump #although not much in this chapter #but yes - I finally got it updated!

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queensdivas · 5 years ago

Text

Wildest Notes Chapter 1

okay so tumblr decided to have a stroke obviously and decided to delete the entire first chapter because. I decided to add the word Chapter 1..so I’m tagging y’all again mostly for my sake. So sorry.

For those of you who have no idea what this is. YOU’RE SO WELCOME AND I THINK YOU’RE GOING TO ENJOY WHAT I’VE GOT COOKING IN MY LITTLE BRAIN FOR OUR MAILMAN GARDNER!

If ya liked to be tagged please let me know.

And I’ll see you guys in whatever I post later!

HERE WE GO!

Chapter 2

Masterlist

And that’ll do! After an entire night of moving and unpacking. I’ve finally made it into my new home! It’s a tiny little hole in this town but I couldn’t be more happy with it. Right outside of the city and quiet enough you don’t hear the traffic. Absolutely perfect!

I walked into the living room where Angus was sound asleep with the sunshine beaming on him. Kind of forgot that he enjoys the sunlight when he’s taking his naps and all the drool that comes from English Mastiff. Hopefully I can put something together for my giant in the backyard so he can lay out for as long as he wants.

Speaking of outside, that's all that's left to do in the house and it’ll be complete. I’ve already got my seeds ordered for the flowers and veggies for the backyard. I have to figure out what I want to do for the front yard. Maybe I can have a line of sunflowers against the fence? Ivy wrapping around the fence? That’ll take months but atleast the weather here is very nice. I’ll have to think of something in order for a much nicer garden for my obsession. Maybe some ferns and some lava rocks? Nah we’re not in the right territory for lava rocks. I already know the backyard is going to have the largest sunflowers I can get my hands on.

I should take a walk around the neighborhood and get some fresh air. And I imagine Angus would just love a walk, even if he’s tapped down on the floor in the middle of the road! But look at him relaxing on the fluffy rug!

“Someone wants to go on a walk doesn’t he?” I asked him as he sat down in front of me waiting for me to clip the leash. Found Mr. Angus under the bridge when I walked from the orphanage to school. He was only a puppy when I first saw him and from that day on I was giving him food from breakfast and left over from lunch. Then he started following me back to the home every night.

Angus and I walked out the front door as I patted the front part of my overalls for where I put my keys. He barked out towards the street as I turned around to see the mailman coming through the gate but stayed back due to the dog.

“He doesn’t bite.” I smiled as I led Angus towards the mailman as he stood there so tall and firm. I don’t even think a gust of wind would blow him over, even hurricane wind wouldn’t knock him down.

Angus began circling the mailman sniffing up and down his legs, down to the tip of his toes. I chuckled as he stuck his nose in the mail bag and sniffed all the letters and tiny packages. The man bounced away from Angus as he dug through the mail to hand me my two envelopes.

“I’m Cora.” I told him as he took a deep breath in.

“Gardner. Now if you’ll excuse me Miss Lister. I have to get back to work and take my lunch.” A 180 turn away from me as he walked out of the fenced front yard back onto the sidewalk. Wait what’s this slip?

“Umm excuse me Gardner.” He stopped as he faced the fence. I walked over towards him with the only thing blocking us was the picket fence. I then showed him the slip as he looked at the slip then back at me.

“It’s a package. That’s a slip.” Obviously but what did I order? Wait did I order anything or is someone mailing back from what I left at the old house? There’s a lot of things this could be. He was about to walk away as I was trying to finish this conversation without him running off.

“Can I assume that you’re bringing it by tomorrow?” He stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards me.

“Section 4.7 of the resident manual stipulates packages of that size cannot be left without the recipient's signature.” Didn’t realize it was such a big package goodness. What on earth could I have left at the house!?

“I’ll be in the back working on some hoeing so just leave it on the corner of the porch. C’mon Angus!” I opened the gate, waving bye to Gardner.

“Thanks Gardner!” I yelled as we began our walk.

Angus and I watched him walk down the street stopping into each of the house's mailboxes. Probably should go the opposite way so it doesn’t look like I’m stalking him.

“C’mon Angus.” I told him as I walked out of the gate down towards the opposite way Gardner was going. Glad to know the first I met was a very tight end mailman. I mean he was a little cute but I should get going.

Angus was absolutely loving all the new smells and environment while walking around the corner onto the new sidewalk. I was humming a quiet song to myself as I heard a very loud whistle coming from the house I was passing. A foam rocket landed right in front of Angus and I for him to start sniffing it. An old woman came stumbling out of the house with a flask in her hand.

“Ah damn it. Too much gas.” She yelled as I picked up her foam rocket as she walked towards me.

“You moved into the house with the yellow door, yes?” You mean my absolutely favorite door in the world? That pretty yellow color that I love? Yes.

“Yes mam.”

“No one tells me yes mam, makes me feel old. Trudy.” She made it infront of me as I handed her the foam rocket. I glanced over to her blue and purple house to see her flowers on the ground were dying.

“Cora. Nice to meet you.” I told her as she looked down to Angus.

“And who is this?” She reached down as Angus began sniffing her fingers and arm.

“Angus.”

“We’ll he’s a heartbreaker. Glad you moved into the house, that old woman who used to own that place was crazy. She once walked out of the house naked like a jaybird.” She took a drink as I nodded along. Glad to know one of my new friends in the neighborhood is an old lady wearing a super long floral kimono.

“I’ll let you back on your walk. Hey if you need anything please stop by whenever ya feel like. I could use a young drinking buddy myself. I make a mean long island iced tea.” Don’t really like alcohol on most days. Maybe a glass of wine at dinner or a beer when I’m grilling.

“I’ll get back to you on that Trudy. Lovely to meet you.” I began walking away as she kept looking at me till she went back inside. So I got mad science living a street or two away and a mailman who's tighter than a screw.

I continued along the sidewalk as Angus was walking a little faster since he was trying to see the entire neighborhood. I stumbled upon a patch of trees as Angus was just dying to start running around in there. Eh might as well. Don’t need to go back home for a few more hours and it’ll take me about an hour to get ready for work. I bent down to unlatch the leash from his collar as he went sprinting off. Don’t worry he’ll come back because he's going to have a nice chicken dinner before work. I began walking on the trail as I kept an eye on Angus as he was climbing on top of some fallen trees.

It’s weird to think a few months ago I was job hunting and trying to find a place to live and now my life is slowly coming together. I need to write to my orphanage mother and let her know that I finally made it in the world. We were worried when I turned sixteen that no one was going to adopt me and by eighteen they kind of just threw you out onto the street. But now look at me! In a jazz band at night and selling my own produce at markets. Just exactly what I wanted in my life.

We reached the opening onto a large tall field that was circled by the entire patch of forest. There was no trail that led into the field but one wrapping around it. A few park benches were placed along the trail as I began going down the path on the left. Angus ran running into the field as he began hopping around in the tall grass.

He barked each time he jumped out of the field till something caught his attention as he began smelling the air. He began trotting around the field as he began picking up the pace till we came across someone on the bench eating. Oh no he must have peanut butter! It’s Angus’ weakness!

By the time I was about to tell him no he was already sitting in front of him with his tail moving across the grass. Crap crap crap! I ran up to notice it was Gardner just trying to enjoy his lunch in peace I’m assuming. But I stopped as Gardner ripped off a piece of his crust then handed it to Angus. He laid down in front of him and quickly ate it.

“I’m so sorry about that.” I told him as I stood in front of him and attached the leash to Angus.

“It’s fine.” Another short answer as he took a bite out of his sandwich.

“Mind if I sit with you for a minute?” I asked him as he looked over his bag to then move it onto the ground next to him. I sat down on the other edge of the bench as I was watching Angus running back into the field.

“I promise I’m not stalking you or anything.” I blurted out as he kept his focus on the field. It was an awkward silence for a few seconds as I tried to think of something to say in order to remove this awkwardness.

“Why this little town?” He asked as I looked over and looked over at me.

“I miss the little town feeling. I grew up in Eureka California and I kind of missed that town kind of feeling. Plus my job is here now and wouldn’t trade it for anything.” I nodded as Angus sat in front of me as I scratched his head.

“What do you do?” Feels like I’m in an interview as he’s silently judging me.

“During the day when I’m not sleeping I’m growing vegetables and herbs for any local markets. And at night I’m a jazz pianist.” He nodded as he looked over at him. I know it’s not a lot of money in my life but it makes me extremely happy.

“You don’t like to talk do you?” I blurted out as he turned his head towards me.

“No I do.” He defended as I nodded. So he likes to talk, but just doesn’t want to talk to strangers. Understandable. I’m a complete stranger who accidentally found him at the park during his lunch.

“So are those hats comfy?” I asked him as he looked up at his white hat.

“They’re good for the summer. Keeps the air flowing through my head and the sun from burning my neck.” I looked at it then chuckled at myself.

“How’s the mail business going then?”

“Fresh air, predictable, solid retirement fund.”

“Already sounds like a better life than what I’m doing.” I could sense he wanted to be left alone. I imagine this is very weird for some stranger to be sitting here with him. I should get going anyhow.

“Sorry I’ll leave you alone. Listen if you ever get out or just bored at home. Come to Club Eclipse on 2nd. Thanks for letting me sit with you Gardner.” I grabbed Angus leash as I began to speed walking down the trail as my body became a little cold. How stupid was that? Honestly that was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done in my entire life.

“Thank you Miss Lister.” He blurted as I stopped dead in my tracks then turned around towards him.

“Cora please. And for what?”

“This was….different.” He grabbed his bag and marched away.

What a..what an interesting man. I hope to see him tomorrow while he delivers my package. Which I’m still trying to remember what exactly it was I ordered. He’s..kind of cute with his quirkiness.

taglist

@bonafiderocketqueen @filmslutt @leah-halliwell92 @johndeaconshands @amethyst-serenade @soy-guey @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @queen-turtle-boiii @mercury-wife @deck-heart @themficsilike @deakydeacs

#gardner langway #Gardner #gardner x reader #Gardner Langway x reader #Gardner Langway Fic #Dear Sidewalk #Dear Sidewalk x reader #dear sidewalk fan fic #joe mazzello #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello x reader

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

Text

Honeylocust || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Recent

LOCATION: A farm not far out of town

PARTIES: @deathduty and @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Deirdre take a break to visit some cows.

CONTAINS: brief mention of past abuse

The farm was some miles out of town, secluded off a thin stretch of road. The humble homestead rarely brought traffic or attention, but the owner was passionate right up to his passing, of which Deirdre did her duty to observe. But unlike most deaths she watched, she couldn't stir her mind from what this man left. His home, his animals, and the family that would undoubtedly sell it all as soon as they flew in from the big cities they found far more alluring. It was by some combination of asking around, promise-binding and careful planning, that she knew his farm would not be attended to. A tragedy, surely, but an opportunity on another hand. Of course, all she told Morgan was that she wanted to show her something.

"I think it's just over here," Deirdre explained, resting her arm along the door, windows pulled down to let in the cool summer breeze. Her luxury car wasn't suited for the cracked road under them, and the forest-lined street seemed about as exciting as the occasional bump in the road. Every so often, they'd hit a patch of wide grassland to look over, the shimmering ocean beyond them, but the view was quickly obstructed by trees again. "Or at least I think it is. I might be lost. I don't see any signs for 'fun and special surprise for Morgan'. We didn't pass it, did we?" Her voice hid her amusement poorly, even if the lopsided smile and mischievous glint hadn't given her away. Deirdre might have considered trying to act more convincing if she wasn't so excited. She had a feeling Morgan would like the rabbits the owner kept, they were big and fluffy and as much as Deirdre compared humans to rabbits, she thought the gesture would be well received. If the rabbits didn't work, they did have the stranger's house to themselves. And, well, if that didn't work either, there was a beach just further down that was decidedly less cursed than the one they knew. "You know, why don't we pull up into that farm there and ask for directions." Pulling up to the small house, she turned on to rough gravel that gave way to smooth dirt. The red brick burned against the well-kept, white wood accents, revealing a house that was both humble, yet striking. Small, yet loved dearly. Deirdre shut her car off, smiling at Morgan before taking in the sight. Beyond the house was the pasture, which had the jersey cows lazily grazing, and beyond them was the chicken coop. The rabbit pen was somewhere by the chickens, as Deirdre remembered. "Or, you know, it might just be that the surprise is around here somewhere. We should get out to look." She grinned, already half out the car.

Morgan would have spent the drive in Deirdre’s lap if she could. The summer had been hard, marked with death and restless nights and now, in a twist she should have seen coming, more cruel magic. She watched the sun glint off the windshield and imagined how the heat felt to the concrete, how the lacy wisps of cloud above them might long for more moisture. She imagined it was the same way she longed for this break from White Crest. The world she wanted, the kind one, the one where she could still feel and connect without pushing her mind to its limit, that was hers and Deirdre’s felt harder to reach when there were strange voices and underground cages and alchemists filled with iron and rage around each corner. But there was safety in the sprawl of the forest, with its trees so old they seemed to lock arms against any trouble. And there was hope in the curl of Deirdre’s smile as she drove. Morgan shifted in her seat just to look at her better and sneak a candid picture to add to her collection. “Fun and special, huh?” She asked, smirking as she lined up the shot. The sun was so bright it made her hair look like it was streaked with gold. “As opposed to the boring and super ordinary kind of surprises you’re just full of. Although, I would probably find a ‘boring’ surprise really interesting. Anything from you is worthwhile, babe.”

The world peeled away turn by turn, simpler and greener than the one they were leaving for the day. She laughed softly as Deirdre carried the charade all the way up to a cheerful looking farmhouse. Not the kind of place she would’ve imagined Deirdre liking at a glance. It was tidy, lovingly maintained, and still within view of other, similar homesteads. But these little surprises of discovery endeared her more to her love. They could stay together for a century or more, and Morgan still wouldn’t have all the answers to her. “So, what’s this?” She asked, playing along with exaggerated curiosity. “Are we staying the night here? Because I definitely didn’t pack a bag and there will be nothing to save us from my morning hair.” She stepped out and stumbled through the rocky grass to take her girlfriend’s hand. “Are you taking me to a picnic? Is this why we brought extra snacks? Ooh should I close my eyes so I’m extra surprised?” Morgan bounced on her toes and gave her a chaste kiss. “Not that I’m not already surprised and happy to be here. I can’t begin to say how much I need this. So, thank you, my love.” She tugged her along the grass, walking backwards. “Show me your special surprise now?”

“Anything from me, huh?” Deirdre smirked, doing well to hide the nervous flutter that claimed her stomach. She wouldn’t mention her three-part contingency plan, or how she was beginning to think that, just maybe, rabbits weren’t that thrilling. But when she’d seen the farm for the first time in a vision, all she could think of was how it might be nice to take Morgan to a place like this: idyllic, calm, loved and friendly. White Crest gave Morgan no breaks, but Deirdre could carve one out for her, on this homestead, some miles out. Even if the rabbits were a miss, the summer sun and the late farmer’s garden hammock sounded pleasant enough. “You know, I’ve never wanted to be saved from your morning hair, I happen to like it.” Deirdre grinned, squeezing Morgan’s hand a little tighter as she took the lead. “Unless you mean in addition to being adorably fluffy, it also has a mind of its own. Is it going to strangle me? Now I’m intrigued.” Her banter continued over her unlocking the pasture gate, and leading them into the open field. “I wouldn’t recommend closing your eyes---” And in saying so, Deirdre’s gaze met one of the cow’s, who had paused its grazing to regard them curiously. “Actually,” she turned to Morgan, “close your eyes and stand--” she moved her, “--right there. Hold your hands out like--” she gently tugged them up “--that.”

Jingling carried along with the breeze, the cow happily galloping towards them, its bell swaying with each step. It mooed quietly as it nudged Deirdre’s hand first, who then led her to Morgan. This cow, brown in color and smaller than the rest, Deirdre pulled out from the farmer’s rambling as Penny. As a Jersey cow raised on his homestead, she was as friendly as she was soft to the touch. Penny began to nudge Morgan’s hands, trying to rub her head against them to incur the scratches she wanted. When that wasn’t working, she pushed closer, rubbing against Morgan’s arms until she had successfully squeezed in between them. Despite her greed for attention, Penny was a gentle creature, as most dairy cows were. She mooed again, finally solidifying what she wanted from Morgan by licking her face. Deirdre raised her hand, grabbing Morgan’s and bringing it right behind the cow’s ear. She curled their hands together, rubbing them across the fur as the cow tilted her head towards them, clearly pleased. “This is Penny,” Deirdre released Morgan’s hand, “she’s very excited to see you.” The other cows began the slow jaunt towards them, their bells clanking as they moved lazily across the pasture. “The owner of the farm passed away. I’ve had to bind someone into coming by to take care of the animals since his family is a little uninterested. I must have...left some gaps in that promise.” Very attention-hungry gaps. Penny whined again, insistent for more. “You don’t mind if I take care of them for a little bit, do you?”

“Anything,” Morgan emphasized. “Try me, I dare you.” She followed Deirdre through the grass, content with the mystery of her surprise, bubbling softly with laughter as she teased. “Oh, now you’re interested? What about my shiny afternoon hair? Or my just straightened magazine hair? Maybe my evening hair wants to strangle you with much more elegance. You know, with a little rosewater, a classy strangling, as you do.” She reeled Deirdre into a kiss just as she asked her to close her eyes. “Ooh, now I’m intrigued,” she murmured against her skin. “As you wish, my love.” She let her hands be posed and held them in place, the picture of obedience.

Morgan knew better than to expect anything in particular, but the strange wet pressure on her fingertips still made her squeal with surprise. “Oh, Stars! What is that? Is that a--!” She squealed again as the creature moved her head under her palm, insisting on some form of pets. “Are we petting cows?” She giggled. Slowly, after enough halting efforts, she realized that Penny liked a firm, scratching hand just like herself. Morgan released the tension in her arms and opened her eyes. Penny’s limpid black cow eyes were bigger than any she’d seen on any animal. Her lashes fluttered and her moos changed in tone as she reveled in the new attention, spotted tail swinging. Morgan turned her face just in time to avoid getting licked in the eye and redoubled her efforts along the cow’s fine hair with her free hand to prove she understood. She craned her head back at Deirdre, who was bursting with a look so soft and nervous, Morgan stopped to nestle her girlfriend’s body even closer against her back.“Penny, huh? Has that always been her name or did you just give it to her so she knows she’s special?” She looked back at the young cow, almost as attention-hungry at Moira, and resumed her scratches. “She’s beautiful. She...she looks like she’s real soft. All that fine hair, and all that pink on her ears. She probably feels as soft as she’s gentle, huh?” Her voice trailed off thoughtfully as she went on, trying to remember if she’d ever pet a calf at a petting zoo or at the ranch field trips her school had bussed them out on. She must have, she was sure, but she couldn’t remember, much less how the cow was supposed to feel or whether she was being too rough or if her skin was going to prove too cold before long.

“Of course you can,” she said softly. She lifted their joined hands and kissed Deirdre’s knuckles before turning her attention back to the cow, running her hand along her back in long strokes now. “Are these like the cows you raised in Ireland? You had one that you named once, didn’t you?”

With snide comments about hair subdued, there was nothing but the cow to focus on. “You can be rougher with them, you know,” Deirdre explained softly, demonstrating the force Morgan could use by pressing her fingers against Penny’s head, then applying the pressure to Morgan’s arm. “They’re not delicate. Not like the cats. In fact, she really wants you to be less gentle with her.” Penny kept insisting for more from Morgan, nudging her with her large nose, or rubbing her head against her clothes. “But if you’re worried about it, she seems good just using you as a brush. I’d warn you about the rough tongues, but I think you’ll be okay.” She moved around, wrapping her arms around Morgan’s waist and tightening her grip as she spoke. “She’s very soft. As soft as she is gentle. Imagine Anya with a rougher coat, it’s still silky, but just thicker.” Deirdre pressed a kiss to Morgan’s cheek, “and if you’re good with her, my love, let me just go grab a brush.”

Deirdre rolled up her sleeves as she moved to the side of the house, which she knew was where the farmer kept a few supplies. She filled a pail with water from the hose, grabbing the cleanest towels of the ones left out (cow saliva had a way of drying like glue, and she thought Morgan might appreciate washing it off her face). Then she picked two brushes out, both with thick enough bristles and solid handles. With her items, and towel flung over her shoulder, she made her way back. It was something about carrying a metal bucket that made her feel like she was back to doing her chores in Ireland. Those days were too far gone now to be missed and too unimportant to be mourned, but she carried herself with familiarity of the motions: setting the pail down, readying her brush.

“‘Penny’ is the farmer’s doing, by the way. I have better taste than that. I wouldn’t know what to name a cow in any case.” Moira was the result of a verbal fumble, her creativity couldn’t extend that far. To name something was to give it value, to have value in something was...to care. And to care was---Deirdre shivered. “We had a different breed in Ireland. Thicker coats.” She held her hand over Penny’s neck, remembering Ella’s, adorning mismatched cuts as she struggled to summon the power necessary to end her life cleanly. She was only 10. “Just one.” She raised her hand, expecting to see a knife where she held the brush. She ran the rough bristles along Penny’s coat in slow, deliberate streaks. She marveled at the lack of blood, the pleased exhales instead of the pained whistles. “To care was to lose, and it never made sense to name creatures that only lived to be hurt.” Penny moved her head, positioning herself best to get as much brushing and petting as she could, in the places she wanted. The other cows mooed, renewed in their desire to join Penny. Deirdre’s gaze, however, had wandered away from Penny to watch Morgan. “Here,” she held the extra brush for Morgan to take. “This might be better. You’ll know you’re being too rough when the cows aren’t leaning into it.”

Morgan let her hands grow idle and still as she watched Deirdre come marching up the field with her supplies, more confident and at ease at once than she’d seen her in a while. Her banshee was self-assured more often than not, but this was different, another side of her emerging into the glaring day for the first time in, well, who knew how long, really? Morgan tried to imagine her carrying such heavy things as a girl, her big workboots, her adamant determination to do all she was capable of, and felt a part of her heart throb and give way to Deirdre, who was still so much more than Morgan realized. “Sure you would. You named Moira pretty well, didn’t you?” She said, beaming from Deirdre to the cow and back again.

“Is it...wrong or weird somehow, to remember the lives of animals, the way you do people? I mean, if they were cared for, if they were known and you loved them…” Morgan hesitated as Penny insisted she pet her more roughly. “I guess what I’m trying to ask is if it’s okay to talk about her. Your cow. Or...any others you cared about. We don’t have to, I don’t want you to be a way you don’t want to or anything, I just wondered. You already seem so...there’s something different in you here. Something nice, though.”

Morgan hesitated as she reached for the brush, even as Deirdre guessed her thoughts. She had only made Moira uncomfortable once when she squeezed her too tightly to her chest in a burst of fondness. She had released the kitten at once and left her alone the rest of the day out of shame, even though Moira was ready to sit near her within an hour to herself. Morgan had never felt like a monster, but hurting a kitten, even on accident, was enough to make her wonder. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll try my best.” She started at Penny’s neck and followed the fall of her hair. Short strokes at first, then harder as Penny continued to but her head against Morgan’s arm. “They’re pretty resilient for being so gentle. I can see why you might like them. I bet they’re good listeners...”

"I was trying to name her after you," Deirdre confessed quietly, "one of the stupid pamphlets in the lobby said you could try naming them after things you liked. It was—it was geared towards children, but in my defense, it was the closest thing to read to where I was sitting." She hadn't named Moira, so much as she had stuttered and Morgan filled in the blanks. She couldn't name a creature again, it felt dooming. "And it….had a crossword on the back that I did. I just—you remember it, the wait was long." Embarrassed, she turned back to Penny, moving down to brush along her ribs. She was happy enough to leave the conversation there, but the inquiry to the animals she knew left her tense. She remained silent for a moment, glancing over to Morgan eventually. "You're doing good," she praised. "Oh, the best listeners, but terrible gossips. You really have to be careful when telling them anything." It was another moment before she remembered she hadn't answered Morgan's question, and so she turned away from smiling at her love to trying not to over-brush the same spot.

Deirdre began in a low, soft rumble of a voice. "They're animals. If their lives have any meaning, it's because someone prescribed it to them. They're animals." Which was synonymous with having minimal value. Her family did a good job of separating things out; the humans were like animals, but the animals were better behaved. Deirdre paused, dropping her hand away from Penny, who was preoccupied now with Morgan. "She wasn't my cow, she was just a cow. Animals are...truly innocent creatures. All instinct and nothing else. It was hard not to like them. But I'd killed them all, one way or another, and there's no sense in—" Another cow nudged Deirdre hand, seeing her unused brush. Painful as it was to remember the creatures she slaughtered, harmed, or did nothing to protect, she couldn't stop herself from laughing with simple delight. "Okay, okay," Deirdre soothed the cow. She spent enough time with animals to know they had personalities and quirks. To know that, for all their supposed lack of value, the ones at the estate always appreciated her arrival. She'd never stopped to wonder what it meant that the things happiest to see her, were the animals. Animals easily won over by treats and attention. Animals she had the great task of harming for the sake of her training. "Remorse was the first thing my mother trained me out of. To give a creature value is to care about them, and you couldn't care about things so far below you. I only thought to care about humans better…because of you. Because it wouldn't be fair to you otherwise." Her voice was soft, absent as she lost herself to the actions of brushing this new cow, just the way she knew cows liked. She always enjoyed the methodical way that caring for animals went. When she didn't want to think, which was often, she lost herself to the motions of care and routine. It was breaking the habit of caring for them that was the hardest, one she hadn't quite learned even now. "I don't think I was particularly kind to the animals. But the ones I liked best died first, and I never knew what to make of that except apathy. Yet, my mother never stopped me from giving treats to the ones we'd just screamed at, or the ones I knew were to be slaughtered. I think she thought it was harmless. I see now that she should have stopped me." It was an Achilles heel of emotionality, it must have been. The very thing that would have made her capable of caring for a human then, of falling in love with one. "I only ever had the nativity to name one of the animals. I wished I could have thought of them with apathy, but we only had a handful of animals on our farm. And I was the one who fed them, bathed them, cared for them. Even if I never gave them a name, I knew exactly which ones we were hurting. And I watched their livelihood deteriorate. Everything I cared for died, by my own doing, to teach me not to care in the first place." She dropped her hand away from the cow, suddenly unable to muster the strength to continue. "I don't think I'm some kind person, Morgan. I just think I'm one that fell in love with you."

Morgan paused in her brushing at Deirdre’s confession. “After me? Oh, my love…” Morgan reached out for her shoulder, running her knuckles gently over her skin. “I am honored by your intentions. I wish you’d said something sooner. You are too kind and too good to me.” She leaned over to kiss her arm and went back to brushing Penny, who was bearing her neck for the brush with more excitement than either of their cats. The cow cooed gently for Morgan and pawed the ground with excitement. Would she always be this way? Or was she only excited because she sensed, somehow, that Deirdre and Morgan wanted to be here in a way her newly promise bound caretakers didn’t? Morgan stared into one of Penny’s eyes in search of the answer, but she felt Deirdre’s fond gaze on her and realized she was probably just being silly.

She almost missed the beginning of Deirdre’s story. Her voice was so soft, and she came about it so strangely at first, Morgan thought she was just making conversation. “Of course we make them more special. Their lives have value in the universe like everything else, but care has value too. Love has value…” But that was Deirdre’s very point. Or the one her mother had tried to torture out of her. Morgan brushed Penny’s neck as Deirdre went on, shushing the cow with extra scratches when she seemed to fret that Morgan was touching her too gently. It was strange to find herself relating to Penny’s desperation to feel comfort, to have the relief of just the right amount of pressure. Morgan felt all the worse for coming to understand her better as Deirdre’s thoughts made their bitter end. Morgan gave Penny’s coat a good, hard squeeze and turned to Deirdre, coming up to hold her from behind.

“Of course you’re kind,” she said, laying her cheek to rest on her back. “How else would you have known to be kind to me if you weren’t already. And then there’s Blanche, Ricky, Remmy, Lydia, and Ariana, and you even sacrificed a fresh bone to help save Winston. And you couldn’t help but pay attention to your cows, to know them so well even without a name to set them apart.” Morgan untangled a hand to start finger combing Deirdre’s hair the way she liked. Gently, she reminded herself. Deirdre never minded her touch, even when it was too hard, but so few things in her life had been gentle with her. Morgan wanted her to remember that she was meant for softness as much as any other creature alive. That she should be touched with tenderly, even if Morgan was too desperate to feel her to give that tenderness too often. “Why else would you give them treats after they’d suffered, or when you knew they were about to hurt? Why go out of your way to make a poor cow happy for a moment, if not to be kind, Deirdre? Your heart must be so great, to withstand all of that work and still want to care. You can forgive yourself for doing what your mother asked of you. It doesn’t make you any less kind or ‘good’ if that’s even a thing. Not to me, my love.” She paused to press a kiss to her shoulder. “Should we sit somewhere for a bit?”

"I don't know if that's something you should be honored by…" Deirdre laughed lightly, relaxing under Morgan's touch. She tried to untangle her thoughts just enough to explain them; something or another about how there was nothing she loved more than Morgan, no other name on her lips. But as her gaze settled back on Morgan and Penny, she thought better of interrupting them with unformed confessions, clumsy as they were sure to be. She let the silence and the wind carry her love instead, hoping they'd be more eloquent. To say she loved Morgan more than the sun was bright, bursting between the lazy rolling clouds above. To say she loved her as the wind pulled around them, for each hair on Penny, for every blade of grass under them. For more than her words could ever dream of saying, and just so much that when asked to name a cat, the only meaning she could think to give it was Morgan's.

"From what I've learned of care, there's a difference between that and guilt; sympathy." Deirdre stood stiff, musing on how her mind had drifted so far from trying to figure out how to explain her love to lamenting a life long gone. Morgan's fingers in her hair were gentle, just enough to draw the pain away, and the cows—unlike Moira—didn't issue any vocal complaints to the lack of brushing. But Deirdre had just one: "why do you do it like that?" She asked, turning to pull Morgan into her arms as well, so they could hold each other. "So gently, I mean. You don't have to." Deirdre knew the answer, more or less, but for every time Morgan summoned that gentleness for her, she hadn't been any less awed. "I'm sorry, this isn't the thrilling surprise I had planned, exactly." She laughed into a kiss, cut short as Penny nudged her. "I can take being good to you, kind in your eyes. It's a far more valuable metric anyway." She could trust it, and she had just started believing it. Penny nudged her again, and Deirdre laughed as she turned to pet the creature on her wet nose. "Alright, I get it! Fates, I don't remember cows being this needy." Then again, she might just have known more about killing them than she did caring for them—or at least it felt that way. "Sitting sounds good. We could do that here, the cows might put their heads on us, if you ever wanted a creature 11 times your weight to use you as a pillow." One of the cows mooed, seemingly offended. Another had already taken to laying in the grass near then. "The surprise I wanted to show you was the owner's—he had a small garden. With rabbits. A rabbit garden. It's nice, or it looked nice in what I saw. I thought you'd like it. We could go there now or—" Penny nudged her again, as gently as she had the times before just the force was enough to jolt Deirdre upright. "Well now I know you're doing it on purpose." She held her hand out against Penny's bowed head. "And for the record—" her voice softened as she turned back to Morgan. "I don't care about being kind, I just want to be good, for you. But I wonder, sometimes, if I'm doing enough or—" Deirdre's gaze fluttered back to Penny. "If I've done too much wrong to even think of being any way else. Maybe I'm a fool for even trying. But I named the cow Ella, and I missed her when she was gone, even if it was my doing." She dropped her hand away from Penny, finding her place easily again, wrapped around Morgan. "Sorry, we should sit. Sitting would be better."

Morgan loosened her hold with ease as Deirdre turned in her grip. She pulled her down so their heads could rest near each other while they rested in each other’s arms. “You were a child, Deirdre. You were having to take this on while other kids were learning how to care at all. But even then, without any knowing or teaching, you tried to make things better for them, however briefly you could. You did as much as you knew how, as much as you thought you could. What more could anyone ask of a little girl?” She tightened her hold for a moment so they were pressed firmly enough for her to feel the comfort of Deirdre’s weight around her. She sighed, relaxing her body to savor the feeling, better than any weighted blanket, and relaxed her grip so it became gentle once again. She turned her face to give Deirdre’s cheek a tender kiss, nuzzling the spot with great care as Deirdre posed her question. “I do it because you’ve had so little softness in your life before now, and when I was alive--” she sighed, reaching back through memory to try and share in the tenderness with Deirdre. “When I was alive and with you, so many of the best parts were so gentle. The first time I got to play with your hair, the way you touched me that first time I stayed over, and those times we came back together after being apart. We were so gentle and it felt so good I swear I cried at least once. I don’t want you to lose that. Even if I never get to feel just like that again, if it has to be different for me, I don’t want it to be like that for you. You were made to be touched gently. I want to still be able to give you that, even though I’m like this now. I do it because I love you.” And to prove her point, Morgan brushed her lips against Deirdre’s skin, so faintly to her senses it felt like she was kissing the air. Slowly, she reached back up to her girlfriend’s hair and resumed her finger combing. “I hope that’s okay,” she whispered.

Morgan couldn’t help but laugh as Penny nosed her way between them by degrees. It made Morgan wonder if Deirdre had visited with her when she came to fulfill her duty, made friends and given them extra scratches and brushes, knowing their fates might take a bitter turn before too long. “Don’t be sorry one bit,” she assured her. “And for the record, you are always enough, Deirdre, and you are plenty good as far as I’m concerned. You have already done so much good, how could you not be? If you’re a fool for trying, then you are my beloved fool, and we’ll be fools trying together. But I don’t really think you are at all.”

Morgan wrapped Deirdre up in her arms again. “Yes, let’s sit. Anywhere you want us to, since you know the place. A nice tree, or by the rabbit garden you wanted to show me, anywhere as long as we can sit close. And you could tell me why you named her Ella, maybe? It’s a pretty name. Sweet, like I bet she was.” Morgan tugged on Deirdre’s arm, leading her backwards towards the gate and the rest of the quiet, sylvan farmland. She held her gaze as she moved, her face all gentle with trust and devotion. “Anywhere, Deirdre.”

A lot more, Deirdre wanted to explain. She had never been a child, her mother didn’t like children. And what she took as praise, being treated as an adult, she knew she could never subject another child to. There was a lot she was asked to do; her duty did not lessen because she was a child. Yet, Morgan had a way of speaking that was light, as though Deirdre might believe her, as though she could. “A lot more…” she croaked anyway, wincing as she recognized the way her mother’s voice could retch out of her---that she was something less herself, and more like the things that made her. She could regurgitate in perfect form her mother’s words, and if she didn’t stop herself, she was almost inclined to. But with Morgan was the only place she never felt the need to, where she could be as she was---however unsure she felt of exactly who that woman was. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m not a child anymore.” She pulled herself closer to Morgan, twisting so her body fit the way it was supposed to and the knotting of worry inside of her subsided. Morgan had a way of being that was light, as though there was more, there would always be more, and whatever wretched hold Deirdre found herself in, she could always find her way out.

And she had a way of touching her that was gentle, but deliberate--like the softest kiss, or her fingers combing through her hair. Deirdre had expected the answer to be that she was loved; even when Morgan was alive, Deirdre had enough sense to recognize the gentleness she was offered as care. But Morgan could derive no sensation from the act, it was strictly for Deirdre’s benefit. “I remember…” she mumbled, “I didn’t have the words then to tell you I cared, or the bravery to share what words I did have, and so I was gentle instead. We were.” But Deirdre never had been good at taking things just for herself, and where her touches could no longer be gentle, her voice was. Something needed to be given, and there was precious little she wouldn’t give. “I haven’t lost it, I wouldn’t have---even if you didn’t. You don’t have to be so gentle, Morgan. But I---thank you. It’s okay. It’s more than okay. I love you too.”

Their trek to the pasture gate was met with resistance in the form of mooing, and the clanking of Penny’s bell behind them. Deirdre had made the mistake of glancing back just once, finding the eyes of the other cows expectant and watching. She snapped her gaze back to Morgan instantly. “You’re too good to me, you know that?” She couldn’t think of what more to say. Many of Morgan’s compliments early into their relationship were met with rebuttals or disbelief, but she had come to a place where she could accept them with silence---mull them over in her mind, and store them in a place where she might just dare to remember them. For a moment, her expression mirrored Morgan’s, bursting with her own love and faithfulness, and then her gentle grin cracked upwards, taken with mischief. With a rush forwards as the pasture gate clinked shut behind them, Deirdre tightened her grip around Morgan’s waist and lifted her up just enough to spin her back, hoisting her up against the rough white pasture fencing. “Or we could stay right here,” she said, inching closer to Morgan’s lips. “One good turn deserves another, doesn’t it?” She kissed her rough and hungry, pressing against the coarse wood of the fence. It was in pulling back for the sake of her silly, silly, lungs, that she noticed Penny’s head propped up beside them; staring. And beyond her, the eyes of the other cows, still waiting. “Or….not.” She pushed back, rubbing Penny between her eyes. “I think the rabbits will be less manipulative.” They had to be, Deirdre already felt poor enough for leaving the cows. She’d see about convincing Morgan they needed one more brushing session before they left. “Come on, before Penny starts getting ideas.” But as they left, Deirdre muttered an apology to the cows in Gaelic, hoping somehow the different language would detract from the embarrassment of apologizing to cows.

Deirdre led Morgan around to the farm’s right, opposite the pasture. While the front of the house was marked by old trees, staunch watchers of the homestead, the right side was decorated with vegetation, and grand white trellises complete with intertwining vines. The rabbit garden stood in the center, with flowers and hedges trimmed to be proportional to the creatures. The sizable fenced area read more like a miniature garden without the fluffy creatures bouncing around, but thankfully for them, the rabbits were out in full force, exploring their lovingly made city. Their cabin house was empty, the rabbits finding more delight in the tunnels, ramps and raised platforms of the garden. What Deirdre thought Morgan might delight in was the attention to detail in all the miniature pieces; like any grand garden, it had a fountain, and spades and gloves inside a wheelbarrow---all scaled to size. “The garden is all edible, I think. Something about them being free range. The chickens don’t even have it this good.” Deirdre gestured to the wooden patio swing overlooking the spectacle: their place to sit, finally. “After you.”

“Mmm...I’m not sure if there is such a thing as too good to you, babe,” Morgan crooned. “But I’m interested in the concept, it sounds like something I could get on board with.” She watched, smitten and awestruck as Deirdre’s expression shifted, opening towards her with a tenderness that made her want to lean in and surrender herself, to redouble her own efforts to express the affection giving way and expanding inside her. But there was only so much the muscles in their faces could do, only so much that could be held in the flutter of their eyes or the curl of their smiles. She couldn’t hold the expression forever, it was moot. Morgan’s face cracked into a smirk, then wider, until she was laughing to the sky. It was too absurd to be this full of feeling she had no way to express fully. You would think they’d stitch the word for every feeling that could pass through mind somewhere, or come up with some better ideas in the centuries sapient beings had been around to think it over, right? But there was no kiss, no word to fit the strange warmth between them or the way she felt held and soothed by Deirdre’s gaze. Morgan laughed all the way to the fence and into Deirdre’s kiss, hard and strong enough to make her senses feel sharp again. There was no one gesture that could fit everything between them, but there were moments like this that reached as hard as they could.

“Wow. I can’t tell if she’s annoyed or just jealous,” Morgan said. “Are we being too scandalous for your pasture, ma’am? Will you forgive us for getting carried away in the middle of your wonderful grass?” She scratched the cow affectionately, ventriloquising, “‘Yes, but only if you give me even more scratches just like this,’” with a Texan twang, as if all cows were somehow spiritually from the south. She loved on the cow until Deirdre lead her away and out of reach.

“It’s a shame we can’t see them more often,” Morgan said as they walked. “This place really does feel kind of special. And I like what being able to care for the animals does to your face.” She jumped to peck her cheek and tucked herself into her side as they approached the rabbit garden and the bench that overlooked it. “Aw! Do you think they have names too? That one looks like it could be called Peter, don’t you think? I almost wish the owner hadn’t had to die just yet. There’s so much love in this place. Look at those ramps, who comes up with that? And those little stairs that are extra wide for their big hind legs to hop on? It’s incredible.” She sat down on the bench as Deirdre asked and pulled her girlfriend down with her, hip to hip, legs entwined at the ankles. Morgan peppered her with kisses everywhere she could reach easily as she tucked them in as close as she could without upsetting the bench off its balance. She squeezed her, greedy for more pressure, more feeling. If it weren’t for the bench rocking back with their every movement, she might have climbed into her lap and insisted on picking up where they left off.

“I never really thought a farm could be so romantic,” she admitted. “But this is lovely.” She pressed another kiss, now at her earlobe, and murmured gently into her skin. “We don’t have to talk about Ireland if you don’t want to. I was just curious because I want to know more of you and being here makes all your stories more real in my head. But you can tell me something else you’re thinking. I’m happy hearing anything from you...which I feel like I keep saying a lot. But that’s just because it’s true. Funny how that is, huh?”

“You know Jersey cows are British, right?” Deirdre watched her girlfriend with unspeakable fondness. Though she meant to tease her, her voice fell too gently at each syllable. She thought of adding more, a clever remark sat at the tip of her tongue, but she could not summon it above the hubbub of affection that wanted to bubble out of her. Though rare for her to deny a moment of mischief, she always managed to hit a threshold of affection in which the desire to share it with her love was too great---even enough to stop retorts, as the only words she could think to vocalize were declarations. It was in these moments she deeply considered the ramifications of simply having Morgan right where she stood, of tackling her to the floor or making use of a wall---she thought it terrible when the mood struck her while they were apart; she realized it was worse when she knew it would be inappropriate to interrupt them. And so, she lingered close as they moved, her desire shooting through the twitch of her fingers and the smirk on her lips. Her shoulder remained stiff as she managed to keep them moving along without interruption.

“The owner’s family plans on selling it as soon as they can. I don’t know where the animals will go…” Deirdre stopped herself there, afraid her pessimism would sour the moment. “...my face…?” But her confusion quickly dispelled the frown. Her face continued to be furrowed as they went on---she reached up to touch her face when Morgan seemed preoccupied with scoping out the rabbits. It felt the same to her. “Oh, you know, now that you say it, that one does look like a Peter. Just the same as the ones from those books, though much more portly. And--don’t ask me why I know of a children’s series about a thieving rabbit. Oh, hey, that one looks like a ‘Margaret’.” She pointed a rabbit out who was fast asleep, and seemingly unbothered by the strangers in its territory. “You mentioned wanting a place for potential cats, when I asked you about the kind of house you’d like, and I wondered if it’d look like this but...cat-sized.” It was, by all accounts, a paradise for rabbits. “Maybe a little larger, with some space to explore and---” And now she was thinking about it. Deirdre coughed, allowing herself to fall on to the bench, uttering a small gasp in surprise at the swinging that their sudden sitting wrought. After a moment to steady herself, she was quick to wrap an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder, holding her tight and close. The kisses were harder to reciprocate from her angle, but there was little barrier that could stop Deirdre from giving back her share of affection--she did so readily, happily. She hummed under her touch, trying to anchor them closer together, despite the rocking. The bench was clearly made for the stationary observer and not the affectionate couple.

“As someone who was raised on a farm, they’re still not romantic.” Deirdre laughed easily, trying to tilt her head to press a kiss to Morgan, but being able to catch only the corner of her lips. “I don’t mind sharing, not to you, my love.” It was true that she’d grown far more comfortable telling Morgan of her life, but she still held her reservations. She only ever spoke of the quieter moments from her childhood, knowing that the rest of those days were colored by bloodshed and torture and her adult life was a blur of dutiful monotony. She had so little to speak of that seemed like it might be of interest, but for the first time, she opened herself up to the stories she hid, and she gave Morgan every power to ask for them. “You wanted to know why I named that cow Ella? I must have been learning about our family history at the time; my great-great-grandmother had gotten to the bits with the baronies of Ireland, and our ruined castle in Eliogarty. I always wanted to visit, she described it so fondly, yet...sad. I wondered what it must have been like to lose a thing like that, and then I suppose it was poetic that Ella was the first animal I killed.” She paused. “I marked each place by the training that took place there--the drowning or the bone breaking or burning or the rites. I learned how to kill and maim on the animals, the acres of our farm weren’t so our cows could frolic, but so our screams wouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention. I watched those creatures suffer because of me, and then I was applauded for it.” Her fingers curled around the edge of the bench, trying to snap wood she knew she was too weak to break. ”I lived secluded on that farm for years, and when I was finally old enough to leave it, I couldn’t figure out how to be without it. All I knew of a home was that place.” She paused again, watching the rabbits mill about their garden. “The first death I ever saw was a rabbit’s. I must have been five, maybe younger. I watched and waited for a fox to dart out and claim it. Then I felt privy to a part of the world so many people didn’t know, of death and nature. Then of how to explain the world I lived in, a place of predators and prey---humans and those who kill them. All I knew of life was that.” Deirdre turned to lean against Morgan, burying her head into the crook of her neck. “Until you,” she mumbled against her skin, pressing firm kisses where she could. “I don’t know what you want to hear about the estate. I can tell you anything you want. But I’ve run out of pleasant stories and ways to tell you that at least the scenery was pretty.” Deirdre was sure all she had about days spent preserving fruits, baking and celebrating ancient family holidays, she had already shared---or simply couldn’t think of the value of sharing them.

“You can’t just say you know about Peter Rabbit and then not tell me how!” Morgan whined. “This is seriously new information. Beatrix Potter isn’t even Irish! Were you allowed to read them as a kid, or did you just get curious later? Also, that one’s totally a Flopsy.” At the fall of Deirdre’s laughter over the romance of pastoral life, Morgan couldn’t help but laugh with her, albeit sheepishly. “Okay, I’ll admit, this is a little smellier than what I had imagined from the stories you told me, but I was a city girl. The only thing I’ve seen close to this was a horse ranch for a school field trip. And, you know, the local petting zoo. And it’s all so green and loved and alive, and you are just so--” She shook her head and shrugged, speechless. Deirdre was herself, deliciously bright and mischievous and kind. She was still weighted by her duty, by her years of loneliness, but crystals were no less wonderful for their heaviness. And yet there was something else, something feather-like that emerged when she looked at the animals and gave them the care she so desperately wanted to bestow. And something sad too, as Morgan suspected, Deirdre’s own memories turned color and shifted under her new perspective. She was not one woman but several, past and present reflecting off and around each other, different but complete, like a perfectly cut crystal prism. But how could Morgan explain how she saw this? How did she prove the way her eyes shined and shifted in the sunlight or what mix of feeling she read in her dimples? Morgan poked one affectionately and continued to revel in her love’s beauty, how expressive it was, how telling of all her strange little thoughts, too weird and deeply buried to be unearthed at once. At last Morgan settled for saying, “You’re amazing, as always. Just more so right now. And so to my very untrained eye and inexperienced self, this peak Hallmark material.”

She kicked out her legs and started to swing them gently, sighing as Deirdre showered her with affection. She mumbled an I love you into her hair and listened as she told her story. She interjected sporadically (“How is a ruined castle not romantic? That’s something people write poems about.”) until the solemn current of Deirdre’s words overtook her. Gradually, she put her feet down and let them rock more and more gently until they stopped. Morgan moved a hand down to cover Deirdre’s, white knuckled on the bench beneath them. “I am sorry that your farm couldn’t be like this. That you only knew it by the different ways you had to suffer or hurt, that you didn’t get to see the animals you cared about be happy, or not for long. I know it wasn’t what you completely wanted…” She prised her fingers off the bench so they could hold hands properly. “You know I’d take any sad story you wanted to tell me, but I guess all my questions about the estate are just...stupid little things. What your bedroom was like, and what grew around your lake, and where your little hiding places were, and where you would visit the wild fae cats. But I also wonder how you did manage to leave, how to feel okay separated from everything you knew. How to change what home could feel like. You must have been on your own a little before coming here and finding me. I don’t think you’ve told me anything about that time. It feels like it barely exists in my head. I don’t need to hear only your good stories, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to, just because I’m curious or asking. You don’t ever have to if you don’t want. We have time, you know? You could tell me what made you think about my dream kitty kingdom instead, for example. I don’t even know the last time I’ve thought about it. Although, if you must know, the one I imagined is kind of like this, but cat-sized, and indoors. It would obviously take up the better part of one of the guest rooms. With lots of levels to explore and window seats that get good sunlight and shade.” She shrugged, letting the improbability of it all drift away like the clouds above them. “And you can tell me about how you see the world now. For both of us, I reckon. We don’t have to just look back. We can look forward too.” She twisted in the bench seat and cradled Deirdre’s face gently in her hands and brushed their lips together in a kiss, tender and careful, a gift only to her. Then, keeping their heads tucked close together, she draped her legs over Deirdre’s lap with a self satisfied smile. This was much better than just being side by side.

“They were the only books appropriate for children that we owned! They were purchased a hundred years ago and my grandmother read them to me but substituted everything with skeletons. And what---just because my family is very Irish, doesn’t mean we only own Irish literature.” Deirdre huffed, feigning offense. Mostly, she was embarrassed in that way she always was when describing anything she enjoyed as a child. “The one’s a Mortis,” she pointed to another rabbit, dropping her hand away as Morgan’s laughter drifted through the air, more captivating than any note of a song. “Oh,” she laughed along with her. “I’m sorry. I thought I did a good job describing the manure to you. Haven’t I told you about my favorite chore shoveling it?” By which she meant that she complained at length about being made to do it. The animals I liked, I will admit I liked them, she would say, defeated, but they shat so much, and it was so big. She tapped the tip of Morgan’s nose, “now imagine how it smells for me.” But Morgan was right about the farm being green and loved and alive, even if she didn’t understand her comment about being different here. Nature did calm her, she thought. Maybe it was that. “ If this was Hallmark material, I think one of us would be a secret prince, right?” Her smile grew, so much so that her cheeks began to ache. “So I should cancel the very romantic hot air balloon ride I have planned for next week then? Have I peaked?”

Deirdre was bursting to share at that point. Her heart was full, and she believed she risked injury by not speaking. Her life, her stories and all the things she knew, she had always thought too strange to share in entirety with Morgan. She had trouble reconciling what part Morgan must’ve loved and cared for. If it was truly all of her, or some strange vision where she was kind and cared about animals. She worried any story she might tell would reveal the face that Morgan didn’t love. Each was a dagger she held over her heart, waiting for the moment Morgan would plunge it into her. That moment never came, but Deirdre never learned to stop waiting for the ire. “I just don’t know what to share,” she admitted quietly. “When I try to draw my own thoughts to kind, they won’t come. But if you ask, I can conjure them. And I do want to share---I do.” Morgan shifted, and Deirdre found the opportunity to hold her better, tighter. The bench swung lazily, threatening to throw them off balance if they dared for too much affection, but Deirdre didn’t care. She thought about the things Morgan had brought up, and then began on them. “My bedroom was plain. Maeve kept stealing my bones, so I had to leave my collection by the lake where it was often shifted or taken by animals. The only thing I had was the sheep skeleton, which Maeve thought was too beneath her to take. And it was wildflowers that grew around the lake, nothing special. But there was this one that looked like bells on a stick, and it grew under the moonlight. I’ve been all over Ireland, and I’ve never seen it anywhere else.” Deirdre paused to collect her thoughts again. This time she wondered if it was odd to share so much of herself in one shot like this, but she was aching to share herself. As much as she normally worried about it, she was burning to give herself to Morgan. “The farm was very big, all of it could have been a hiding place. The garden was a favored spot, but I’d normally take a horse out to the far fields when I wanted to be alone. I was just close enough to be called back if I was needed, but far enough away that I didn’t have to think about anything in particular. I never did this often, I was obsessed with training.” Earning her mother’s praise, her family’s astonishment. She worked herself to fever, often to injury. It wasn’t all her mother’s teaching that left her scarred. “I left for school. I studied in Dublin and lived in the dorms my first year, but the human roommates were unbearable, and so I lived alone after then.” The days of her adulthood came back to her and she winced. “I wasn’t so separated. I was still in Ireland, mostly, and if I wasn’t, I only went where there was family or fae. I came back to the estate often. I did nothing, was nothing. That was my life, and that would have been my life until I died. I wasn’t myself so much as...whoever I needed to be in any moment. It was reflexive.” She sighed, “none of my past feels like it’s mine anymore. Maybe there’s more I could say, but I’ve never wanted to contemplate it. My childhood is different because it feels like a ‘before’, a becoming of who I was meant to be. I couldn’t tell you about the ‘after’, I don’t know how.” She needed time to parse the childhood she was still struggling with, she needed more to understand the adulthood that was a blur. All she knew of it was loneliness.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it. The kitty kingdom--um, in theory. About the things you said you wanted, but clearly were too afraid to try for yourself. I’ve always thought about it, I’ve always wanted to give those things to you, my love.” She wondered if Morgan realized the firepit that suddenly materialized after Morgan’s moving in was an example of this, of how often she thought of and tried to make things better for Morgan. There was a plot of land and a future house that also stood as an example, but she dared not mention it. “Do you...want to talk about the future?” She turned her head, curious. “When I said I would love you forever you seemed a little….well, it seemed like it might have been too much to say. And you’re right, it is a lot. And we don’t have to talk about that either. We do have a lot of years ahead of us; we have time.”

“You? Peaked? Never,” Morgan chuckled. She played with Deirdre’s features more as she talked, doting on her with the gentlest caresses of her fingertips. As Deirdre struggled her way into her story, however, she lost the will to maintain such exhaustive control and settled for draping herself snug against Deirdre and pressing close, as close as they had practiced before. From her position she could hear Deirdre’s heartbeat. Once her skin used to prickle the little hairs on her ear, startle her senses wide awake. But now it was only Deirdre, another part where she happened to fit so easily, another hollow to hear the subtle drum of her heart. It was so many seconds between each beat, the rhythm was almost imperceptible. But how incredible, how constant it ws. Even when Deirdre could not find herself, even when Morgan feared her love might slip through her fingers, this heartbeat remained.

“You don’t have to know right now,” she crooned near her ear. “It’s okay, babe. It’s kind of hard, looking at everything all different and new. It’ll probably take time. It is a shame, though, that you had to miss out on yourself, and everyone you met missed out too. You’re pretty wonderful. But maybe that means you get to discover yourself instead, and appreciate who you are better.” She situated herself closer in her lap, coming dangerously close to capsizing the bench swing, but it was worth the extra jostling to be closer to her.

“Always?” Morgan asked, brow furrowed. She couldn’t imagine that. “Since you asked me or--even before?” She had been endeared to Deirdre early on, but she hadn’t imagined it had been at all the same. She remembered very clearly relying on this assumption in the early days, something to steady herself from falling in all at once. But that hadn’t helped any, had it? She lifted her head to look at Deirdre a moment and felt a fearful hope strike through her. Could she have been cared for so easily? So completely? She was silent to Deirdre’s question, twisting the two in her mind at once.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “It just...feels like one thing for me to say that I’ll love you forever. That even if things fell apart tomorrow, I would still love you, I would still want you to ask for me if you needed anything, however many years away it might be or however many miles I might have to travel. I didn’t think I could care this much for anyone, but I know it to be true and I don’t see any point in pretending otherwise.” She squeezed Deirdre briefly, just enough to feel her girlfriend’s chest rise and fall against her own. “It just feels so...different, to imagine someone else to say they’ll love me as much, or as long. No one’s wanted me this long before much less loved me. I always messed it up or the curse got in the way. And it’s scary because…” she faltered, her throat going stiff. “Because I do believe you. Or I believe you much, much more than my fear doesn’t. But that means my fear can’t bungee me back if I...I don’t know, if I do something reckless or say something stupid like, oh, even if the universe makes me stay on this earth after you’ve gone from it, I’ll still probably love you and still hold onto our promises because they’ll be all I’ll have left of you.” She sniffled and tried to laugh with airy self deprecation. “And if I can’t bungee myself back to safety, I don’t have anything to keep myself from breaking if something goes wrong. And I just...I’m not even cursed anymore and the ground keeps crumbling even when I don’t do anything! And I think, well, maybe I just won’t think about the whole ‘earth could fall part’ thing. I’ll just keep moving and I’ll hang onto you, and then it won’t seem like anything at all. But then I keep wanting to make new plans with you. Future place plans. And that means having to think about scary, ‘well what’s the point if it doesn’t happen or if we get killed tomorrow or I screw it up like everything else or scare you away like I did before, I don’t even know how that could be, but…’” Even in explaining herself, she was growing rigid and small, her body begging her to shrink further and further until she could slip through the cracks in the bench and fall away. But Morgan held on and forced herself to meet Deirdre’s eyes. “No one’se wanted me enough to even ask for something like what you…” she shook her head as a shiver overtook her spine. “And you know me so much, and you’ve forgiven me for everything I’ve ever done, and you still...when we’re together everything is so...there isn’t a better place, you know? I don’t have any good reasons not to believe you. So I do. I believe that you...you really could. You...you do.” At last she broke her gaze, sniffling. “We can...I mean, looking ahead in terms of months isn’t so scary. Lots of people do that. I’ve tried to work my head around this issue long enough that I don’t feel scared talking about a few months ahead. I’m not saying I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just...I feel like I should explain, in case maybe you thought it was some other reason. I was too scared before, and I didn’t think I deserved it, and I’m still not sure if I do, but I want you anyway, even if maybe I really don’t deserve you. I want you and I want to be good to you. And good for you. I love you, Deirdre. I love you so much and I want all of this to be good, I do, I’m just…” Scared. And still at a loss as to how to see beyond what little she knew.

Deirdre's face contorted with discomfort. Discovering and learning how to appreciate herself sounded like something humans did, something that culminated in a trip to India which she would return enlightened from. She didn't like it. She didn't like it just as much as she hated anything human being prescribed to her. What kind of an idiot didn't know who they were? And yet, she could not discern which bits of her were honest, or if they all were. When she had fallen in love with Morgan, the woman she knew as dutiful and unapologetically fae, had crumbled away. She could not exist alongside the one that loved Morgan, human or not. And was that woman the same as the one in her adulthood, ruthless and lonely? Was it the same as the girl she hated, the one that cried? Did she have anything to do with the one that came after, the girl who was haughty and stubborn? Were they all her, or had she truly lost herself in the quest to please her family? Stupid as it was, she held no answer. There were three truths she knew how to cling to now. One: that she was a banshee (and this itself meant many things). Two: that she loved Morgan (and this also, meant several things). And three: that she loved pie (this meant nothing but just that, but Deirdre would believe her superior taste in dessert foods would mean she was generally smarter and more right than anyone else). Maybe there was nothing else to discover about her. Maybe she had always been some fragment of a person. Maybe it was too late to look for the answer.

But the topic of her love for Morgan, she could discuss ad nauseum—and then some. She delighted in it far more than speaking of herself, and there always was a steady beat of confidence under her words as she spoke about her love. "Always," she mumbled, trying to think of a more accurate answer. It must have been since her argument that Morgan could have anything she wanted switched from something she said simply to argue to a truth she believed. But she'd always believed it in some respect, and in another she was fascinated with Morgan the moment she met her. It was hard to pick apart her logic then; that too, felt like someone else. “Maybe since that first letter I sent you; probably before then. Maybe since we went bowling, or when you came over that first time. I don’t know, exactly. It feels like always, and maybe that’s not factual, but I know as soon as I pieced together what your life had been...I’ve only wanted good for you.” Which she could vaguely remember her telling herself was the logical thing to do, when confronted with another’s tragedy. Deirdre’s face screwed up in contemplation. Would it be incorrect to color their past with the love she felt now? Had it been there longer than she assumed? Her thoughts were a jumble then, and she was so hung-up on Morgan’s humanity that she didn't dare think of anything else. “Always,” she repeated. It felt right.

“You don’t have to---” Deirdre’s voice trailed away, halted by Morgan’s explanation. She listened, sticking her leg out and digging her foot into the ground to stop the bench from swinging wildly. She held Morgan closer to her, a little tighter, trying to ease away the fear. She didn’t know what to say, either. She had surrendered herself to Morgan and the love she felt the moment she confessed it. In some small part, she knew something would be given up; her duty squandered, her identity as a fae shattered. She trusted Morgan, and she wanted to be with her more than she was afraid of it. She understood the feeling. But in that surrendering, she knew how easily Morgan--or life--could take it all away, and yet, she saw no reason to hold herself back. Even now, the breadth of that love shocked her. She held back feebly against telling Morgan that in the event of her passing, premature or natural, she wouldn’t mind the obstruction of fate--to find some way to live longer, live as long as she had to. She grasped the idea of simply promising Morgan awkwardly in her chest, the only deterrent being that she knew Morgan wouldn’t accept it. But what else was there to say? She was afraid too, she had been for a very long time. She held Morgan tighter. “Thank you for believing me,” she said after a moment, then paused. “Can you hear it? My heart?” Her heart rate had spiked, as it would naturally as fear bubbled up in her too. She knew Morgan often laid near her chest, and she wondered if that was what she was listening for. She wondered if she felt every flutter, every skip, every time her heart sang in its cage for Morgan. “It’s yours, you know? Each beat; it’s yours.” She paused again, staring out at the bunnies that continued to pay no mind to them. She remembered each thing her mother told her about rabbits, her metaphor for humans and life and their place above everything.

“The nature of life is such that you will inevitably encounter something new; the nature of relationships is that one will always be longer than the rest, it will always be new---and new is terrifying. It’s alright to be afraid, that’s how you live, that’s how you survive.” She turned back to her girlfriend, “and you’ve had to survive so much.” She did what she had to do, optimistic so her circumstance wouldn’t crush her, fearful when she knew she could lose much---Deirdre understood this. “It’s okay, my love. I’m not asking you not to be scared, I’m not even asking you to trust me, I’m not really asking for anything at all. The fact that you do believe me is more than enough, but I don’t say that I’ll love you always for the sake of making you trust me. I say it so it’s there. I mean---so you have it, so you can think to trust it if you want, leave it if you don’t. I’m not asking for anything Morgan, I mean it. You don’t need to be less afraid of the future for me, it’s scary, I know that. It’s okay. We don’t need to think about the long-term, if you don’t want. And we can make plans for months from now, years, weeks, whatever--or we don’t. Or you can cancel anything you don’t feel like going through with. I don’t mind. We’ll do this at our pace, Morgan. Whatever feels right.” She reached up, sparring just one of her hands tasked with holding Morgan tight to cup her face, thumbing along her bones. “Bad things happen. It doesn’t matter if you’re cursed or not; they happen, they’ll always happen. I don’t believe in being so afraid of life that you’re scared to live it. You can have good things, Morgan. Good things that stay. I meant it when I said it then, I mean it now. I believe in it, I’ll believe in it for you. I know it’s hard to wrap your head around, and I’m not asking you to try. If you wanted to--if you wanted to try--I’ll be here. And if you want to stop trying, I’ll still be here. If you want to make plans, and then you want to stop them, I’ll be here. I love you. I’ll love you anyway. I trust you, Morgan, and I believe in you.” Deirdre paused again, pulling Morgan into a kiss--to say what her words might have struggled to convey: it was okay, it would be okay, no matter what; and that she loved her, she loved her so very much. “I think we should convert one of the guest rooms into a space for the cats. I know we only have two, but we should do it anyways. Maybe we’ll get more, maybe we won’t. Maybe we’ll move, maybe we won’t. Maybe you’ll hate it, but we should do it anyways.”

“I can hear it, yes,” Morgan whispered. She tried to imagine the organ growing arms and sliding through Deirdre’s ribcage to wrap around her, to draw her even closer, safer, against the fae she loved. She imagined these arms as a red blanket, with her name embroidered in the corner that marked their connection. She tried to remember warmth and imagine that too, even though Deirdre’s arms had always been a cool kind of comfort, her touches down her back like melting snow. Morgan listened and tried. The images came to her so easily: yes, Deirdre gave herself to Morgan, gave everything and more, beyond anything Morgan would have dared ask. But she struggled to think of it as hers, as something she could keep, that could stay wholly in her hands without having to be given back. Part of it was wanting to give it back, so Deirdre could love her friends and love herself, even more than she wanted to hoard her care and attention. Morgan’s hand settled over her chest, trying to conjure the feel of its rhythm. She wanted to tell Deirdre that she would put her own heart next to hers, that she sometimes wished for her alchemy back so she could demonstrate the magic that ran between them, diagram the places where she felt so inextricable, she could never be broken away even if they fell out of love. Instead Morgan dragged her lips down from her neck to the flat of her chest, just above her heart. She kissed her sternum and pressed as hard and close as their bodies would allow and listened to the wind in the grass and the rise of Deirdre’s pulse. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “It’s my favorite thing to hear at night. Well, and my ocean sounds, but you know what I mean. It’s special.” It was special because her own heart was silent, and she needed to borrow Deirdre’s to stay tethered to the earth until the morning came with all its tasks and responsibilities. But there were other moments when the heartbeat, with all its steadiness and silence, played itself in Morgan’s ear as exactly Deirdre’s. She thought of its music as the centuries she was meant to live out, as the code to her self, still so mysterious and wonderful to Morgan’s attention, as a signal of the incomprehensible constancy she promised her.

Her eyes welled as she hung onto this thought of the abundance and sureness in the lungs beneath her ear and listened to the rest Deirdre had to say. When Deirdre lifted her face to kiss, Morgan’s eyes spilled over. Long used to it by now, she paid her tears no mind, but slung her arms tight around Deirdre’s neck and kissed her back with greedy hunger. “I do,” she mumbled between kisses. “I trust you, I believe you. Don’t let me say any different, because I do. You’re the safest place I know.”

A laugh burbled out of her at the suggestion of making the cat room a reality. “I’m not going to hate it. It’ll be great. And the cats are already becoming friends. They’ll like having somewhere they can go no matter what. Anya will like being able to climb even when the weather’s bad. We can do that. That’s--I think that’s a good plan.” She pulled herself into another kiss and pressed her head down against Deirdre’s shoulders when she felt her banshee’s pulse jump with the need for air. “And can we--sometime, I mean, can we go to Ireland together? Some fall or winter when it’s safe and quiet, would you really take me? I’ve been thinking about it lately, how much I want to see it with you. Or, maybe I didn’t realize I was thinking about it so much, but then Mercy mentioned it with the whole sharing my head thing and pointed out I should say something. Make sure we get to go sometime. And...even that’s a lot, I know, maybe too much, but you said you wanted to go and I want it and I want you. I love you and I don’t want to lose you.” She pressed her arms around Deirdre tighter, clinging to her. “Is there...is there something else you want? Something we can do...that we can plan for, that’s soon? Can I...I don’t think I’ll be such a mess if we plan for soon, or soon...ish? I don’t...not want to try. Maybe...maybe this is something I can give you.”

“Well, nothing can compare to ocean sounds.” Deirdre smiled softly, turning her head away to make it seem like the pastures far off were far more thrilling a sight; a blush she tried to hide, suddenly embarrassed by the very attention that she spurred. It was thrilling to hear that she was special, not for any part of her that she created, but for something she could not touch or change, even if she tried. For something as mundane, yet integral, as her heart. And she could believe it too, only as Morgan said it. Only ever when Morgan said it. And it was the way she spoke: earnest, giving, as if the only thing she knew to speak was the truth. It might not have been true in the grand mechanics of the world, but it was true to Morgan, and Deirdre thought that was more precious anyway. And when they kissed, there wasn’t a more precious feeling. Deirdre held Morgan tight, digging her foot into the dirt below to try and keep the bench from swinging them out of position. “I love you,” she mumbled against her, nodding along to Morgan’s words.

“Cat room it is then.” Deirdre pictured the room in her head; they could use the guest bedroom in the center, which caught the sun’s rays better than the other rooms, perfect for a cat to nap curled up under the heat (Deirdre, of course, preferred the small sunroom off the kitchen for her napping needs). But her fantasy burst with mention of her homeland. “Ireland?” She nearly pulled back, though only due to shock. “That---” She pursed her lips together. She’d thought of it, naturally. She knew the best times to bring Morgan there, where they could avoid her family and still catch the beauty of the place she’d grown up. She’d then considered taking her to meet her family, officially. They could go between the festivities in winter, or even on one of the auspicious days. She’d thought about it, she’d thought about it a lot. “I didn’t know you’d been thinking of that.” There were so many things she wanted to share with her: her lake, the wide pastures, the gentle indifference of the animals, the pale horses in the barn up the hill. But it was a home she hadn’t made her peace with yet, a home she hadn’t properly cast away. Would it be okay? Could it? “I’d like that. If you’d ever want to meet my family...we could do that too. But maybe just Ireland first, unspoiled by whatever they might think. There are...so many things I want to show you there, Morgan.” Her smile grew wider as she spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, that could be good. We could take the horses out to the lake, or I could take you to the antique shop I used to spend all my allowance in, or the old bookstore beside the post office.” Yet her voice fell more sheepish as she went on. “I’m getting ahead of myself,” she corrected, “but I’d like that very much, I think. If you’d want to still, whenever we go.”

But to think of what she wanted for herself in some future’s time, was harder by several degrees. “I want you,” she started, as she did any question of her desires. “I know that’s nothing to plan for. But I do want you. Now, and certainly still in some months.” Deirdre tried to think. She leaned into Morgan, pressing her into the bench. It was an awkward shape and angle to lay her down on the wood, but she pressed forward with intent. “You don’t have to give me anything, my love. You’ve already given me so much, you always give to me.” She paused, laying her forehead against Morgan’s. “Could you plan to join me inside the house? I think we could work out what needs to be given better without--” Deirdre lifted her leg up, letting the bench rock dangerously back and forth, its old chains creaking. “I want you.” She brought her leg back down. “And as far as plans go, well--” She smirked. “I can think of a few things.”

Morgan’s nerves shivered as Deirdre processed the Ireland request. She felt something strange, even sour about how that particular question struck between them. It was like she’d stepped on a chord and released a whole confetti drop of questions, but she could only see one or two flitting past her eyes on the way down. Even as Deirdre seemed to settle and become excited about the idea, Morgan’s sense of caution spiked through her chest and she resolved to put those hopes in a box and not open them again until Deirdre brought it up seriously. “Unspoiled Ireland sounds beautiful,” she said, already wistful about it. “Especially all those places you like best. Of course I’ll want to. It’s all a part of you. It won’t mean as much if I’m not seeing it through your eyes. But whenever you think is best. It doesn’t have to be a whole, elaborate, intimidating deal.”

She couldn’t help but smirk at Deirdre’s assertion that she wanted her. “Hey, you already have me. I’m yours. You have me right now…” But Deirdre was very serious. There was no joke gleaming in her brown eyes, no twist in her smile. “But how is that...is that really enough?” Morgan asked in a small voice. “What if I want more for you than just me? Or if I want to make you happier, even just for a little bit.” The bones and roadkill she brought home made Deirdre perk up, more so when she was able to demonstrate how her impulse control was coming along. But she did that so often now, she wasn’t sure how much the gesture really excited or what dreams it fulfilled. She squealed when the bench rocked and clung to Deirdre and the chain at once so she wouldn’t topple off. “You’re not funny,” she said, giggling. “But I mean it, Deirdre. If I could give you something, anything more, even some small, silly dream like a cat room, I’d like to have the chance to try. Just think about it sometime?” She still wasn’t sure what her girlfriend meant by how she gave to her always when Deirdre was the one giving Morgan a home, a cat, a cat room, her history, her insights, her support, her patience, not to mention clothes nicer than anything she’d had the nerve to transmute, and enough stability build up respectable savings. She caressed the strands of hair that had flown in Deirdre’s face with deliberate gentleness. It was the only thing on hand she thought she had to offer. She gave her a look, affectionate and pleading. Let me, please just let me.

Slowly, Morgan’s mouth widened into a grin and she pulled them up to solid ground. “I do think I like the sound of your immediate plans, though,” she said gently. “As long as you give me very strict instructions. I’d hate to leave you anything less than completely satisfied.”

"I miss home," Deirdre confessed quietly, hoping it would explain her thoughts better. "I miss Ireland, but I don't know why or if I should, even." She glanced behind them, beyond the rabbit garden and into the flat pasture and out across the forested area bordering the homestead. She could pretend it was the same, if she didn't think, but she knew the landscape was all wrong; the temperature, the trees, the way the sun rolled across them. The more she tried not to think about it, the more she realized she was in foreign land. "I want that place to be good to you, like it is to me." If Morgan could just feel the way a breeze hit up the cliff side, maybe she'd see it like Deirdre too. "I want you to like my family," she said, even smaller. "I want them to be good to you too." Her body shrank into itself, unfolding only when the conversation was done.

She was quiet again for a moment. Deirdre caught Morgan's expression and she understood it well, but she couldn't think of anything else she wanted. "You are my dream," she explained softly. "I don't want anything else but you, and everything you give me." Maybe she could explain it better, go over each touch and what it meant to her. Each moment Morgan listened to her half-baked thoughts or came to her side before she even realized she needed someone there. All that she had believed in her for, and for all the patience she had given. To be loved by someone this way, this much, this kindly, was all a dream to her. Her mother said it would never happen, and Deirdre had believed it. And then it did, and she had nothing more to want. "I'll think about it," she rasped, "but I want you; you love me, you've given me your love, and I don't want more than that. That is...all I've ever wanted. Just you, as you are and everything you give, are all I've ever wanted." It sounded dramatic, and perhaps that was why Deirdre allowed herself to be pulled up and away, the conversation easily replaced with something more suggestive. "I can do that," the confusion rippling through her face dissolved into a smirk and the eagerness splayed behind her eyes. "I wouldn't want to lead you astray. And you'll be good for me, won't you?" She tapped Morgan under her chin, playfully tilting her head up before she took her hands, pulling them along.

Morgan melted at Deirdre’s words. There was no seduction in it, no pretense. But the mystery of her love called to her like the great arcane mysteries had, beautiful and inexplicable. What did she give her that any good partner wouldn’t? How could her little walking corpse and all her nerves and hopes and recklessness be transmuted into a dream worthy of a fae without offering anything else to the universe? How could there be no gesture, no task that she could do to set herself a little higher, give Deirdre a little more comfort or joy? Morgan wasn’t sure if she could ever know enough to figure how the math came out even, but she hoped in spite of her fear that she would be able to try. “Okay,” she soothed, lips brushing her ear. “You don’t have to worry about any of this right now. It’s okay...”

When they were on their feet again she had to reach to brush back Deirdre’s hair and dust the pollen and dirt from her sleeves. “Aren’t I always a good girl for you?” She said coyly, batting her lashes in a way that only tempted challenge in the delicious sort of way. She may not have understood what she amounted to in Deirdre’s eyes, or how she could curb her own wants for a clear, promised future where the ground stayed firm beneath her and hopes sprouted as green as the farm around them. But it was a comfort to cast her eyes no further than a handful of hours ahead and the evening to follow. If her questions reared their head again, she could ask them later.

The rabbits could wait, even the cows undoubtedly eager for their next brushing could. But Deirdre and all her bubbling desire and burning need to show Morgan just how much she wanted her, and in just what ways, could not.

#honeylocust #wr deirdre #wr chatzy #wr deirdre chatzy #wr #wickedswriting

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roswellroamer · 5 years ago

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Day 12. February 10, 2020. Te Anau day ride. 155km.

Woke to low 40's and gray which made me question the Carrot and Weather Channel apps which had shown 72° and sunny. But closer inspection revealed a marine type layer probably due to the massive lake's shores which was projected to burn off by 11. The kitchen came stocked with farm fresh eggs, bowl of assorted fruit, milk, butter, juice, yogurts, cereals. We set about making some eggs and toast and then of course after finishing off yesterday's blog we grabbed the two frisbees and the "golf course diagram" and headed out. A half life sized chess board on the sprawling manicured lawn provided the tee for the first hole. All the bikes were truck tires with the hole number painted on the rubber. Got to explore their grounds and have some fun tossing the 'bee. We then got into our GoreTex gear and headed towards Milford Sound after a CalTex has stop in town. Knowing we couldn't get to Milford due to road closures/flooding we were aiming for a swing bridge made of three cables. One for your feet and one for each of your hands that spanned the west branch of the Eglinton River. It was featured in one of the NZ touring books I had bought last summer. We saw that the trail sign to identify the turn off was the Earl Mountain turnoff and headed that way. We wound a bit away from the water and gained some elevation and then came to a construction zone. Not being sure if this was related to the recent flooding we got in mine behind a few cars and waited. Maybe less than ten minutes and the opposing truck, bus and camper passed us then we were allowed to proceed. Usually the 120km up to Milford takes over two hours due to the heavy traffic. Top tourist destination in NZ, one road in and out. Lots of buses and cars jockeying to get parking at the roadside attractions. One huge benefit of having the road closed about 75km ahead was that there was hardly any traffic! Great road and scenery as jagged Teton-esque peaks wound into view between the nearly sheer yet forested canyons as we gained elevation. After passing through a few more, wait, take a wild guess... sheep farms 🐑 we came to a diversion. Funneled into a lane off the road to what appeared to be a toll booth, explained to the gal we were in search of a cable bridge off the Earl Mtn. Trail before the closed section. She allowed us to pass. So far so good.

You can tell when you enter Fiordland NP. Sure, there's a sign off to the left (but placed behind a farmer's field/fence so inaccessible for a reasonable picture). But immediately farmland disappears and you are envelopes in the eery dense tunnel of what seems to be darned close to tropical forest. With the 21 feet of annual rainfall being lush shouldn't be a surprise but the immediate drop off in brightness is dramatic as well. Almost like going in a cave. There are some open "flats" but much of the area along the one road there is heavy forest. The other concern for vehicles but especially bikes involves the encroaching algae/moss on the roads. Two tire tracks are largely clear of it but the center of the lanes and the road as well are mostly a bit greenish with the slippery stuff. Lots of "slippery when wet" signage and it wasn't for the Bon Jovi album. I imagined it could be taxing to stay in the worn and clear tire tracks on one of the 250 rainy days. With clear blue sky and dry along with no traffic, the 55,65 and 75kph turns were superb sweepers and we had a ball carving up that road. One of the stops was at Mirror Lakes. Aptly names and even though a couple of fish had disturbed the surface, the pics are keepers. We rode up into Fiordland a ways and then there was the Earl Mtn. sign. We pulled in to the parking area and saw the line of yellow tape across the entrance to the trail. Also no other vehicles were there. The sign said it was closed and also had a few poison signs around the lot. They described the poison that was dangerous to animals and people to attempt (as is often done here) eradication of a non-native predator. In this case it seemed to be some sort of weasel that was endangering a bird that lived on the ground. We had discussed this cable swing bridge and yellow tape and warnings weren't gonna stop us! We worked around the tape and stepped into a dense forest trail. The first 10 minutes took us along an occasionally muddy trail. Tons of tree roots. Most of the deep mud had sticks or small logs tossed in to provide steps but a few ill advised steps resulted in 6" plunges and lovely boot pulling sucking noises to dislodge my Alpinestar SMX-6 from the muck. Then found my way down a thirty foot hill by treading solely on exposed tree roots from one tree! (Pic above) After that, following the well marked red triangular plastic blazes into the heart of Frodo land, the forest was a magic pliant spongy floor. It took a while to figure out that about 6-8" of moss has somehow grown over a network of interconnected tree roots. When I stepped, the entire ground in a five foot radius would give in and move a bit. It was weird and beautiful. After another 10' we heard the Eglinton River and were blocked by some fallen trees and yellow tape. A work around brought me to the river just above the cable swing bridge. A very large tree had fallen on the bridge from our side and collapsed it. Instead of a V shape, the 3 cables were mostly flat but still spanning the river. Ugh. No go. Managed to work our way with some difficulty through the dense brush to get close enough for a pic on the first rung of the bridge which was also the last possible one to reach due to the tree and damage. Pic above. There was a cute little bird on the ground by the bridge remnants. He seemed happy to see us. Wasn't afraid of people evidently as he strutted about watching us, walking under the branch I was balancing on without flying away. He seemed to enjoy company. Said goodbye to my new friend 🐦 and found the blazes trail which included a half dozen improvised detours to avoid deep muck. Scaled up the root ladder which must have been connected to Eywa as the whole forest seemed a bit magical. 🌳 One couple was following our lead to enter the forbidden enchanted forest as we exited. They were disappointed to hear the wire bridge was out. The entire trail from there is about a three hour hike.

I must comment that tons of serious hikers (trampers in local speak) come here and cover long distances. Temps are good. Views and scenery fantastic. None of those deadly spiders and snakes one may encounter across the Tasman Sea in Oz. I get it, just don't love hiking that much to spend days or weeks doing it. This area shows why Peter Jackson used it for LOTR. Nearly pristine and just overwhelmingly stunning. With boots and Klim pants properly mud coated, we were now sweating quite a bit. In fact while holding my Latitude jacket I believe I finally lost my first set of reading glasses on this ride. I have a couple spares but oh well. Think they fell out as I was scaling some of the hill or tree root sections. 👓 I opened up all the vents on my jacket and pants and started the bike to stand and let the 65° breeze do its job. Turned around a couple kilometers further at Lower Holyford Rd. as the heavy machinery was at work. Estimated repair on the sign said that the road would reopen on Friday, four days from now. We stopped a few times on the way back for scenic spots that were too good to pass by. One of the files above is the .gif of some chopper footage. Stopped to watch him load and fly away with a few tanks of what may have been fuel? Most likely bound for Milford Sound which was still isolated from the rest of the country's road system. On one of the last stops Ted must've not closed his bag since when we pulled into Te Anau town center his right saddlebag/pannier was open! Ba quick inventory revealed his polartec jacket and a plastic bag with a wipe were missing. The chain lube that Kiwi gave us as well as a helmet lock were still in the pannier. Those darned side opening clamshell designs! I said I'd get a table at the Ranch outside and wait for him to hopefully retrieve his stuff. I showed him how to flip up on the iPhone to reveal exactly where that last pic was taken. He was just putting on his helmet when a white car pulls up. A guy walks out and hands him his stuff! So lucky. They are bikers and saw his stuff and followed us into town. Nice. After some thank you a they drove away and the day got even brighter. The Ranch delivered me a couple Cokes and an interesting prawn twist dish. 8 shrimp individually wrapped in a long thin dough sheet and fried so the whole 8" long finger is edible and 3 sauces to dip accompanied the serving. Then a calamari salad. 😊 Back to the homestead for some blogging (so I won't fall asleep tonight trying to get this down) and rest before we scored a reservation at the top place in town. The Redcliff cafe. Ted was here last year and unable to get in! We rode to town and were walking down the street when Ted recognized the Aussies who returned his stuff at lunchtime. We turned around and flagged them down. They were perfectly willing to join us for a thank you beer and had a nice time talking with them. They were riders but here to scatter ashes of a friend up north and had received money and were encouraged to make a great trip out of it. They had been to Burt Munro as well. Our appointed hour arrived and we were seated on the back porch of the Redcliff cafe. A few tables of Americans nearby and some conversation with a California couple by us and an excellent meal. I had a salmon tartare dish followed by venison which was amazing and a date and ice cream dessert which were each remarkable. Redcliff did not disappoint. Probably the biggest culinary splurge of the trip. Even with a couple drinks my total ended up being just over $50 and it would've been 50% more for that same meal at home. Had a great evening and got back to the homestead in dusk around 10. Ready to roll northward tomorrow. 😴

#teanau #newzealand #motoadventure #advrider #fiordland

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everlarkficexchange · 6 years ago

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To be Her O.A.O. (one-and-only)

written by: @noneyabidnes

Rating: Mature (in future chapters)

Prompt 73: Katniss marries Gale before he’s sent to fight WWII. Gale sends home his buddy Peeta to break the news to his wife and family that he’s fallen in love with someone else in Europe and is staying there after the war… Peeta is under the impression Katniss is a cold woman that only married his friend out of obligation but finds out the other side of the story soon enough. [submitted by @alliswell21]

Tags: era-appropriate derogatory terms for Axis powers, amputation, angst

A/N: I got permission from @alliswell21 to shift from Europe to the Pacific Theater of Operations, since I geek out over that side of WWII history (my Pop was in some of the places mentioned in this story.) This was intended as a one-shot. I didn’t want to commit to chapters, but it’s spiraled out of control and now I can’t stop myself. I’ll cross-post it on ffnet (ryebrewster) and hopefully will find some closure. If you find some of the language awkward or somewhat un-PC, I was attempting to be era and region appropriate, but it’s hard to write an Appalachian and a Philly accent without both coming across pretty hick. Guess I never listened to myself talk before. -rye

–//–//–//–//–//–//–//–

Chapter 1

At the moment, I can’t believe this road ever ends. It rolls away from me, ever higher, ever rockier, taunting me with each uneven step I take. Foolish me had thought I would just hitch a ride. I should have guessed from the name that it would be a ‘road less traveled by.’ Rocky Ridge doesn’t exactly sound welcoming, but Gale had always made it sound like the closest a man could get to heaven. At least, until he met a certain honey-tongued Polynesian girl whose hips swayed like the island breezes. Then heaven made a quick detour to places on her that we best not discuss in public and I definitely won’t be discussing whenever I find the end of this infernal road.

I pause, resting on a particularly large boulder off the side of the narrow road. Hard to believe any car could make it up the path. Certainly not my Dad’s old Tudor, scraping its fenders on each slight turn to avoid the next large rock too heavy to move, and barely jeepable given how narrow. Briefly my inability to drive doesn’t seem like such a bad thing, but then the throbbing in my left leg reminds me that walking isn’t a great alternative either. I’m still getting the hang of my prosthetic, despite all the weeks (oh God, it’s been months, hasn’t it) spent in rehab in San Diego.

Gazing around me, I can begin to see what Gale always beat his gums about. These forests are beautiful, and so peaceful. Such a shift from the tropical forests in which we stewed. The proximity of my memory is enough to shake me from enjoying the moment. The color green took on such an ugly connotation during the war. Sitting on this boulder, I feel like I want to reclaim the hue and give it back its fresh and lovely place in my mental palate, but I do wonder if there will ever be a time when I won’t associate lush forests with machine-gun fire and jungle rot.

As the leaves flutter in the breeze, I catch a brief glimpse of metal roof in the distance. Finally, I may be making progress. Once more I pull the wrinkled and cracked photo from my pocket. Katniss. Her scowl hasn’t changed since he first handed me the image three years ago. At the time, it was to boast about the girl waiting back home. When he handed it to me again five months ago, it was to beg me to explain to her. To get her forgiveness, if not her blessing, for him not coming home. I hope the lump of cash in my rucksack would help to secure it, but her scowl challenges me each time I look at it. He’d said she was an easy woman to love, but an impossible one to live with. I can only imagine how she’ll feel about a crippled stranger appearing on her doorstep.

Righting myself again, I’ve renewed hope that the distance isn’t much farther. It’s as I round another bend that I hear the arrow whizzing past and striking a tree several feet to my left. My gaze slides to my right as I’m reminded that I’ve no firearm.

“I don’t miss twice,” the voice growls from the foliage. It’s feminine and angry, a combination I’ve been warned about but didn’t think I would confront quite so soon.

“I don’t intend to be aimed at twice.”

“Could hear you coming from a mile away. What business you got up Rocky Ridge?”

“Gale sent me.”

I can hear the air sucked out of her lungs despite the distance. The silence stretches on before she quietly emerges, her bow lowered at her side. Immediately I know it’s her. I’ve stared at her picture long enough that I would know those high cheekbones and quicksilver eyes anywhere. Her braid is loose with fly-aways and her neck shows the proof of a battle with some clawed creature. For a moment my memory jumps back to Philadelphia and the unfortunate circumstances of my own childhood, but I think these scratches aren’t human. Katniss clearly is of the forest, part dryad, part fairy, Artemis herself standing before me, at home in nature in a way I’ve never been.

“Gale? Is he…?” she breathes out, fear seeping into the short syllables.

“He’s alive.” It’s all she needs to hear for now. Her head drops and she lets out another long breath.

“I guess you’ll be wanting something to drink. Doesn’t look like you packed for the hike.”

“I am a bit parched. My canteen dried up two clicks ago. You’d think I’d be better at rationing, but I had no idea the road was this long.”

“Clicks? You talk funny. Where you from?”

“Philadelphia, ma’am, but clicks is how we measure distance in the Marines. Kilometers. Gale never mentioned you guys live so far out of town.”

She just nods, turning her back to me and heading off through the greenery, on a path only she sees. I follow her on the assumption that it must be a short-cut to the house, not because I’m keen to test my prosthetic out over the exposed roots and downed branches.

“I can’t walk as fast as you, ma’am. The Japs took my leg along with a bunch of my friends.”

She stops and slowly turns back to face me. “And you walked all this way? Why didn’t you catch a ride in town?”

“I didn’t realize no one would be coming out this way. Like I said, I grew up in Philadelphia. There’s always traffic everywhere you look. Never occurred to me that I might walk out of town and never pass another car.”

“I can walk slower. I’m not getting any hunting done with you making all that racket. My sister’ll check your leg when we get up there, then I can give you a ride back.”

“I did come to speak to you.”

She nods again, turning away from whatever I might have to say. Silence descends upon us. Normally I would fill it, but I’m struggling enough just to stay upright, that I don’t bother to engage her, and I figure her for the quiet type anyway. She’s alert, taking in the sounds of the forest around us, and I find myself remembering following Gale in much the same way through the mountains of Okinawa, the resemblance both eerie and comforting.

After longer than my leg would prefer, a clearing opens up before us with a handful of houses and barns dotted across the ridge. Sheep and goats graze below me in a field while a couple horses stand in the shadow of the closest barn. It appears to have seen better days, needing a fresh coat of paint, but it’s obvious that someone has been attempting repairs on it from the ladder propped against the side leading to relatively fresh boards. She catches me staring at it as she turns around to check my progress.

“We had a bit of a storm a couple weeks back. Some branches took out an old window. Took forever to clean up all the glass, but at least none of the goats ate any.”

I take it that she performed the repair herself, a fact that would surprise me if she were any of the women I grew up around, but seems perfectly normal given what I’ve already learned of her. I search the hillside for any sign of a man, young or old, and come up empty.

“Do Gale’s brothers help you out at all?”

Her eyes narrow at me, clearly not suspecting I had knowledge of the younger boys. Her scowl settles as she explains, “Rory’s taken up working for the lumber yard in town and he takes Vick down with him. Vick runs deliveries for the grocery. They both pull their weight around here. We all do.”

She’s offended, that much is clear. “I would never doubt that you do, ma’am. From everything Gale told me, you’re all a well-oiled machine up here. I just don’t think he knew the boys had taken up jobs while he was gone. I think he hoped his pay was enough to keep you all afloat, along with your hunting of course.”

Her scowl deepens as she steps closer to me. “You say he’s alive but you keep talkin’ bout him in the past tense. You gonna tell me what you’re doin here, soldier? You seem to know an awful lot about my business.”

I can’t help but stumble back at the intensity of her ire. It draws her attention to my leg, still unstable on the steep ground. Her face softens briefly before the scowl returns. “Let’s get you inside and off that leg.”

The house is just a handful of rooms lumped together with a porch across the front. It’s clear at a glance that as space was needed, they just built on with whatever materials were available, but there’s a pride that’s been taken in the appearance nonetheless. Flowers bloom along the front of the porch and herbs hang drying from the rafters. Two rockers with flowered cushions are tucked against the house, sheltered equally from the sun and any rain that might roll through.

As we step through the door the only light filtering through comes from a handful of windows of varying sizes. Gauze curtains blow gently at the open panes, reminding me of mosquito nets. I shake the memory off before it drags me down, instead turning my attention to the closest chair quickly being vacated by a young woman with delicate features similar to Katniss’s.

“Prim, let him sit. He’s a bad leg. Might need you to look at it. Walked all the way up here.”

“Why didn’t he ask Haymitch for a ride? Not like the man has anything better to do.” The young woman I’m guessing is Prim glances at me with equal parts scowl and concern as she makes room for me to sit.

“Not from around ‘ere, so he doesn’t know Haymitch from Adam,” Katniss offers. “Says he knows Gale.”

Prim halts in her movements as she takes me in. I’m dressed in my civvies and my hair has grown out a bit from my time in San Diego, but the duffle on my shoulder gives me away.

“You were with him? Is he okay? Where is he?”

It strikes me this is the first time the question has been asked and the unspoken one that follows. Why isn’t he here instead?

Katniss slams a tea kettle down on the fire box in the corner, breaking the tension with the clatter. “Prim, can you grab some of the tea from over there? I’m steep up some sweet tea quick while you check him out. Then I can give Mister—” she cuts off, realizing she still hasn’t asked my name.

“Mellark,” I supply, rising out of my seat to stand at attention. “Corporal Peeta Mellark, 3rd Battalion, 14th Marines. Pleased to make your acquaintance Mrs. Hawthorne, Miss Everdeen.” I nod to each in turn. “I’m sorry I didn’t offer it up sooner. I was with Gale for a good chunk of my tour. We made it through Guam and Okinawa together. Even ended up side-by-side on the USS Hope being ferried back to Tongatapu after our artillery backfired. I promise you, he’s alive Mrs. Hawthorne.”

She had turned back to face the kettle, but with my final announcement, I can see her shoulders have risen to her ears.

“Please don’t call me that,” she mumbles quietly, and I strain forward to hear her.

“Katniss,” Prim begins to scold.

“No, Miss Everdeen, it’s okay. Actually, it makes the rest of what I have to say easier.”

Katniss turns and I can see for the first time that tears line her eyes, just waiting to fall.

“He’s not coming back, is he Corporal?” she whispers, as though saying it too loud will make it true.

I shake my head slowly, wishing all of this had gone differently. “He doesn’t want a divorce. He figured you’d prefer it that way. But no, he’s not going to coming back to Virginia.”

“So there’s not another woman?��

I glance at Prim, unsure of how much Katniss wants me to reveal in front of the younger woman, but it’s clear the two are close.

“Um, I’m afraid to say, there is. She’s from the islands, Tongan, a sweet girl. He…” I stumble, unsure of whether I should finish the thought, knowing it might cause her more pain. “He said what was between the two of you was a partnership. That you had always said he deserved someone who loves him. She loves him plenty. He’s going to go back there, to Tongatapu, as soon as the clean-up is done in Japan and his tour is over. So, whether you get divorced or not doesn’t really change things for him. He still wants most of his pay to come here. He knows you’re looking out for his family.”

She nods at what I say and sinks into a chair by the stove. “He had stopped sending letters after Guam. I didn’t…I didn’t even know he’d been injured. Did he…? Is he okay?”

“He didn’t lose anything important, if that’s what you mean. Lost a little chunk of his ear. His hearing’s not so great, not that it ever was.” She chuckles lightly at my jab. “I’d still be out there helping with the clean-up if it wasn’t for my leg. They had to send me stateside to learn to walk again. I last saw him in Tonga when he was shipping back out.”

“And he asked you to find me.”

I nod though I know she’s not looking at me. Her gaze is out the window, toward the houses down the ridge, where I presume the rest of his family lives.

“Said he couldn’t write you a Dear Jane letter. He wants me to write him when I know you’re okay.”

She stiffens at the sentiment. “Okay? As though I’ll be perfectly fine with a complete stranger just showing up and telling me my husband has abandoned me for another woman?”

I can’t help the lump that forms in my throat, but I cough to try to dislodge it. “Pardon my forwardness ma’am, but was he ever really your husband?”

At that her eyes snap back to me. The pot behind her is obviously boiling so she stands to move it off to the side of the stove and sets about putting tea into cheesecloth. “What Gale was to me is really none your business. Seems like he must’a told you an awful lot though, you coming here like this. What’s in it for you?”

I sigh, knowing this was coming. “He saved my life on Okinawa. He realized the ordinance was about to backfire and tackled me out of the way. If he hadn’t, I would have lost a lot more than just my leg. I don’t really have a home to rush back to. I promised I’d check in on you and his family. Make sure that you understood it wasn’t anything you’d done wrong.”

The pot slams again and before I know it Katniss is out the front door. Prim watches her stomp out, but makes no move to follow her. I take my cue from the younger woman. I’m in no shape to chase Katniss across the hillside anyway. Prim shifts her gaze to me and tentatively starts asking me questions. Where am I from? Where did I fight? What was it like? Some I can answer easily, others leave me speechless. For all the rehabilitation they did for my leg in San Diego, no one ever really talked to me about how to deal with coming back home. No one talked about the nightmares we all wake from at night—or the ones that haunt us throughout the day. I fall silent eventually, when it gets to be too much, but in my focus on all her questions I haven’t noticed how she’s lifted my leg and been examining the spot where my prosthetic rubs against the stump, just below my knee.

“I’ve had miners who’ve lost hands and arms come through here. Mining means workin’ with TNT and it doesn’t always turn out s’good. I haven’t had any legs though. You’ve got your stump mighty irritated. I’m gonna clean it up and wrap it for you. You need to stay off it a coupla days to keep it from gettin’ infected. You can take my cot here in the living room. I’ve been sleepin’ in Katniss’s room most nights anyways s’as we don’t have to heat the whole house.”

She bites her bottom lip as though she’s said too much. I can’t fight the questions swirling around in my own brain.

“Did Gale ever live here?”

Her eyes widen as she takes me in.

“What did he tell you about the two of them?”

“That she’s easy to love but hard to live with.”

Prim lets out a soundless laugh. “He would say that. He thought it was love but she always knew better. They were great together—as hunting partners, as friends. When our Pa’s passed away, it was just us and two other families up here on the mountain. We had to band together to get through it all. My ma, well, she just couldn’t handle it. She was a nurse down at the clinic in town, but after…we couldn’t get her to leave the house. Gale’s Ma, she’s tougher. She buckled down and started taking care o’all us kids, but there were six o’us and only one of her. Wasn’t long before Gale and Katniss stepped up. They already knew how to hunt, had been going out in the woods together for years. Ma and I used to go out and pick herbs—we use them down at the clinic to help out people who can’t afford the expensive medicines. But I knew there were others that were edible, that we could live off of. I took Rory with me. We sold the goat and sheep’s milk down in town, though ain’t many people got a taste for it since they can get cow’s milk at the grocery for cheap. We make cheese out of it too.”

She peters out, unsure where her train of thought was going, and focuses to gently wrap my stump having already cleaned it. In a moment, the thought returns to her.

“He asked her to marry as a matter of convenience. He was shippin’ out and knew that if they were married it would be easier on his ma—and frankly I think he trusted Katniss to take care of all of us more than his ma. The woman is amazing, but she’s got a bit of a weakness for the drink, but then, most of the folks ‘round here do. They never stopped moonshinin’ ‘round these parts.”

She glances at the pot on the stove. “She never finished makin’ the tea, did she? You want something stronger? We have a little ‘shine around. Ma and I use it for our patients, but I’d say you fit the bill.”

I consider the offer before shrugging her off. I’ve never had moonshine, but there was some camp swill that would get passed around whenever we stayed too long at one post. Didn’t take much to get things to ferment in the jungle. Would rot your gut, but took the edge off the misery of sitting in a swamp day and night. And then there was the hooch at the clubs. Enough to make every Jane look like a pinup but all it took was one tale of Cupid’s Itch to scare us young GIs away from the women who hung around. Well, most of us anyway.

“I should stay sober. I don’t know what state she’s gonna be in when she gets back here and I can’t imagine she’s gonna be too pleased with you telling her I’m staying the night. I’m about the last person she wants to see.”

I find the thought makes me sad. I’ve been carrying her picture so long, there’s a part of me that feels like I know her. I’ve traced her scowl with my finger. I’ve practiced what I would say, though it didn’t come out that way. I’ve tried to imagine her smiling. Gale made it sound like an impossible feat, but I have a feeling there has to be a way to bring out that side of her—not that it’s my job to do that.

Prim’s voice cuts through my silent misery. “She’s not angry at you. She’s not even angry at him. And you seem like a nice guy. I mean, if Gale trusted you enough to send you all this way, you have to be a good guy. Usta be he’d kill anyone that came close to Katniss.” She pauses for a moment before looking me straight in the eye. “You don’t think he’ll ever come back?”

I shake my head. “I honestly can’t be sure. I don’t know that he’s thought it all through, but this girl of his is pregnant and his tour’s up in another month. He’s already gotten approval to stay in Tongatapu. They can’t live together on the base since they aren’t married, but he’ll be part of a skeleton outfit that maintains the place until the Navy decides it doesn’t need it anymore. By then, he’ll be through his commitment so he could go anywhere, but after all the things he said about him and Katniss fighting about having kids, I can’t imagine he would just take off if there’s a little one in the mix.”

“He’s like a big brother to me, y’know? After Pa died, Gale did a big part of raising us. I’m gonna miss him.”

“He talks about you guys all the time. He didn’t just carry Katniss’s picture, he carried all of yours.” I pull the well-worn photo of Katniss out of my pocket and her eyes widen in recognition.

“Why do you have that?” She snags it out of my hands.

“He gave it to me. Has your address on the back, or at least you used to be able to read it. It’s been through some things. He wanted to make sure I found her.”

“’Easy to love but hard to live with.’ That’s what he says?”

“Yep.”

“Well, she’s not going to get any easier now.”

With that, Prim straightens up and tosses the photo on the table, and begins re-organizing her supplies from cleaning my leg. My fingers itch to reach out and reclaim the picture. I’ll never admit it aloud, but that photo means something to me. The stories Gale told and the ones I’ve created in my own mind, the happy world they’ve built on this mountain despite all the hardship. I’m not ready to let that go. The door slams behind me before I find the courage to grab for it though.

“We need to go tell Hazelle,” she tosses the words at Prim, ignoring my presence completely. Prim acknowledges her but continues putting away her supplies.

“Peeta’s gonna sleep out here for a coupla nights while his leg heals up. He can’t be walkin’ on it til it’s calmed down some.”

I can feel Katniss’s glare on my cheek but can’t peel my own eyes away from my hands, still fighting to resist the urge to grab the photo.

“I could give him a ride into town so he could find a room to lay up meantime. Why’s he gotta stay here?”

Prim’s tone allows for no discussion. “He’s Gale’s best friend and he’s my patient. He ain’t gonna hurt us. You wanna kick him out on one good leg? God have mercy on your soul, big sis. It’s my bed I’m offerin’ up. He’s stayin’.”

I can feel the blush building up my neck at the insinuation that I might want anything untoward from them. Prim’s right. I would never want to take advantage. After all Gale has told me about these women, I could never, but another part of me is happy at the thought of being here—in a place that sounds more like a home than anywhere I’ve lived.

Katniss takes a step in front of me, forcing my attention up to her cold stare. “Don’t know what Gale was thinkin’ sendin’ you instead of a letter, but you best be on your Sunday behavior. I know how to skin a stag. You ain’t much of a challenge, Marine or no.”

Instinctively I know I shouldn’t smile, but I can’t fight it no matter how hard I try. “Mrs. Hawthorne, I’ll be a choir boy just for you.”

She smirks slightly before returning her attention to the forgotten tea. “I don’t need no choir boys ‘round here. Gale certainly ain’t one. But if you can carry a tune better’an him, that would be much appreciated.”

Prim’s smiling at me from across the room, so I know the awkwardness has passed, at least for the moment.

“And please, stop calling me Mrs. Hawthorne. Ain’t nobody ever called me that. No point in startin’ now when we all know what Gale is up to.” She pauses in her work before turning back to me. “There’s a baby.”

She states it as fact. She’s not looking for confirmation, but I nod nonetheless and watch as she swallows a lump in her throat before continuing.

“Yeah, he would never abandon a kid. Posy’s the only one on this mountain that we still have to worry about and he knows Hazelle and I won’t let that little girl down.” She shakes her head, as though to remove the thought. “ So, do you sing, Corporal Mellark?”

“Peeta, it’s Peeta. And to be honest, not very well, but I can play the guitar and the harmonica okay. My talents lie more with wrestling, baking…and painting.”

“Seems like an odd combination for a Marine.”

“If any of those islands had been a giant cake, I coulda taken out the Japs with some fancy frosting tricks. Instead I was just the guy everyone came to for their camouflage. Guess I’m good at making people look like mud.”

“Don’t think that would take much talent, no offense.”

She’s poured me a glass of sweet tea and I lean forward to claim it. “No, I s’pose not when you’re surrounded by mud and can just smear it all over yourself, but the guys seemed to prefer when I did it.”

“You must have a gentle touch.” As soon as the words are out her mouth, the blush begins. “Not that…oh hell, nevermind. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

I let the chuckle rumble out of my chest. The hospital in San Diego wasn’t exactly a cheerful place with most of us still fighting phantom limbs and shell-shocked from being sent home. And it’s as I’m enjoying the first laugh I’ve had in months that I finally see it. She cracks a smile, small, secretive, and the single most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. It takes my breath away so quickly I feel light-headed. And now I can see why Gale found her so easy to love.

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #noneyabidnes #Alliswell21 #prompt 73

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