#i miss that terrace and that kitchen and that whole house and THAT WHOLE CITY 😢

[alsojnpie]

there is a long running idea thread i have about him fixing breakfast including eggs but..i really hate eggy tasting things like eggs. BUT! that doesn't mean i won't eat them. because of this, papyrus doesn't know i don't like them and has in this first panel only recently very suddenly figured it out.

i think he would really hate the idea that i was only eating his food out of pity for his feelings so that's why he's watching me carefully.

[sourcreammachine]

Charlotte

or, The Day Your Mind and Body Gets Claimed By a Minor Goddess

Alex was an old uni friend of yours. You’d spent most of those hazy years nursing hangovers with food he’d got delivered, relying on his class notes, and flooding the house with more booze than is clinically advisable. He’d spent the years borrowing your games consoles all day every day, getting mortal and relying on the taxis you’d be forced to pay for, and desperately trying to get some sleep over the sound of your questionable choice of men. It was good times.

A small handful of orbits round the Sun later, and you were off the train and at the door of his little terrace in his bigger city. It’d be nice to spend another day chilling with the bastard once again, now that train tickets are something you can afford, with your fancy copywriter job and everything.

The six-foot-something towering twink gets the door open. Somehow he’d only gotten more homosexual in those few years, the hair fluffier, the face more perfected, and with a baggy cardigan to boot. As soon as the door will let you, you squish yourself into your favourite fag in the whole universe, your head buried in his chest making some sort of affectionate noise. Cologne, masculine, not his. You’ve missed him.

The corridor-stairway of the dig is an absolute tip. The landlord hadn’t even put a floor in, that was bare concrete on the ground level and bare something on the steps and first floor. Through the second locked door to his let and it’s landlord’s special top to toe, beige and beige and fake-laminate lino. It’s fairly stark - the current group of renters can’t’ve been here long. Knowing Alex, he’d’ve turned the place into a skip already.

“You need a drink? Tea? Coffee? Squash?” he invites as you get yourself seated on the shitty fake-leather sofa in the kitchen-come-living room. Squash - adorable! He’d not bought it in just for you, the bottle was half-emptied, he’s still very much a squash-drinker. Well, with the economy the way it is, he’s not exactly going to be switching to champagne any time soon, is he? You remember the nights spent getting pissed on student budgets using orange squash to cut just about anything. Your twisting stomach kindly asks you to stop remembering.

You take him up on the offer and break proverbial bread with orange squash. No- peach and orange, or orange and something, something nice. Going up in the world. Yours went down fast, you’d let yourself get parched on the journey up, stupid little thing.

A few rounds of nattering later and a door opens down the corridor, and barefoot steps come towards the everything-room.

“Charlotteeee!” mewls the twink.

“Hiiii!” mewls the Charlotte as she saunters into the room. “Who’s thiiis?”

“Oh, this is Charlotte,” Alex tells you, abruptly turning your way to introduce Charlotte to you rather than you to Charlotte, “my flatmate. And this is Cleo, Cleo from uni.”

“Oh my god, hiiii,” she says to you as she leans back against the kitchen counters. She’s got a black lacy top on, long brown hair, and a face with mascara, red winged eyeliner and lipstick too. It’s like she’s dressed up ready for a night out, at 11am on a Thursday that you and Alex just so happened to both have off from work. The lacy top definitely isn’t casualwear for February temperatures, the front being parted generously in the middle, with the lace darting back and forth between the two halves as if it was being forced open by her massive -

You stop staring at them and give a playful “Hello!” She’s heard of you from Alex’s stories, it turns out. A friend of his is a friend of hers.

“Can I get you a refill?” she offers with a playful swish in her voice, while already coming over to oblige. You don’t even say, making a confused little noise in want of the right words, but in presenting your glass to her she accepts with a warm smile. For fuck’s sake she looks even better from the back - no, compose yourself, girl.

“It’s good to finally meet you, though!” she says as more squash goes into the glass. Finally? You’re not exactly a celebrity.

“You too!” you bungle with a bit of a giggle, of course never having heard of this Charlotte. You thought Alex lived alone these days - but you put two and two together and guess Alex, Charlotte and probably a few more have just moved into this place, without it ever coming up in conversation. She’s bringing the glass back your way, gripped with doting hands of red-painted nails. You can’t help but smell her brilliant scent as she hovers just inches from you - joyous, fruity, exotic but homely, like a scent you could wallow in for a thousand years. Close your legs, whore. You have a boyfriend. Just because she’s unbelievably perfect, just because she’s exactly your type for when you swing that way, doesn’t mean you have the right to cheat on him, and do a disservice to little Alex, no less. She’s gone back to lean on the countertops again, hopefully allowing you space to ignore her perfection and stick your bisexuality in a box, in the corner, sealed with black tape and labelled ‘You Have A Boyfriend’. The squash is wonderful, an unplaceable taste swirling around the definite orange. That little riddle should help you focus on something other than her enormous (no, stop).

Thankfully the Antarctic levels of ice get broken into burgs of banter, and when she comes over to sit on an alleged ‘armchair’ opposite the little sofa you and Alex are sat on, you’ve managed to put the flustering behind you. You feel yourself relaxing, slowly drooping away from your natural rigid and alert position on the sofa’s edge, like you were being forced back into a comfy slouch.

“…no, no - don’t tell anyone, but I’m definitely scared of balloons!” she says after the ball had been rolling for a few minutes. Alex crumples into bouts of laughter. “No seriously, don’t tell anyone!”

“We won’t babe, we won’t -!” Alex tries to say seriously, while struggling to compose himself. It wasn’t that funny, mate.

Charlotte rocks back with giggles too, and looks your way again. “No, like, promise - raise your right hand -” and up goes your right hand, embarrassingly quickly, “and repeat after me: I swear -”

“…I swear,” you swear, with a note of laughter, as though the words were being forced out over a bed of giggles.

“-that I won’t tell another living soul-”

“…that I won’t tell another living soul,”

“-about Charlotte’s phobia of balloons!”

“about Charlotte’s phobia of balloons!” You’re laughing yourself silly at the end of the little ceremony. She had you hook, line and sinker. You fall on Alex in stitches, and he helps you recompose. Your right arm is still up. You lower it hoping they didn’t notice it being up for an embarrassing amount of time.

More banter and laughs, with this girl taking charge of the conversation. It’s a total house-on-fire situation, you can barely remember hitting it off this good with a friend so new.

Alex gets up to piss, leaving you and Charlotte alone for just a few seconds. He’s near the door when he quips “Cleo, promise me you won’t make out with Charlotte when I can’t stop you.” And with a smile on your face, the words slip your mouth faster than a bullet - “I promise!” He laughs and leaves. You felt a stab of awkwardness and worry, you fucking idiot you just gave the game away, but that feeling stabs only once before melting away. It’s like you’ve known her a thousand years. Like she’s your best friend already. Like you’re already on the level to joke about that sort of thing. The bad feelings get swept out of your mind like old ink on a whiteboard.

“You studied the same thing as him, right?” she asks.

“Yeah, history. History and alcohol, mostly.”

“Oh my goddd, I can’t imagine being a student with him! That’s an express ticket to liver failure.” You’ve not seen any alcohol in this house, actually. Odd. “Oh, hand me that glass,” and you hand her that glass, with the unknown orange-fruit all gone.

“I remember that glass - I bought it!” you say as she reaches around to place it on the floor behind her. “Alex made off with it, the bastard!”

“Just like him, you can’t have it back!” she jokes, she, jokes. Oh well, it’s Alex’s glass now.

You’re laughing together. You’ve known her for so long, she really understands your sense of humour.

“Are you comfortable on that sofa?”

“I’ve sat on worse things, I suppose,” you say.

“Give me your hand,” and you give her your hand. You wonder why. “Okay, don’t move,” she lets go of your hand and your arm lies suspended out before you. She gets out of her seat and heads back to the kitchen area. Your neck moves to follow her movements.

“What are you doing?” you say as the humour of the situation starts to run dry against confusion.

“Hmm,” she observes. She opens the fridge - it’s completely empty, except for a solitary bunch of grapes. You fucking hate grapes. You, you always used to joke about it with Alex. She returns to her seat, in front of you, your stiff arm bridging the gap, and places one red grape gently in your hand. “Eat it.”

You hate grapes. You hate them. You bend your arm backwards and, and then you stop - the fruit resting by your lips, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen asking you to eat a fruit you hate. She was such a joker, but where’s the joke here? Her eyes are warm and friendly, looking at you with kindness. You’re lost in a whirlpool of confusion.

“No?” you finally say, “Nothing against you or anything, but I hate grapes, they’re di-” the grape is between your teeth, you have placed it in your mouth, it is resting on your tongue, it’s supple skin delivering refrigerated, soggy cold.

“Remember to chew,” and you remember to chew. Slowly your tongue delivers the package to your left molars, and they close down upon it. Juice squirts back on to your tongue and everywhere, sour, horrible, unpleasant. You inhale sharply, you squint, you wiggle your neck ever so slightly, and the wiggles slow, and your neck seizes up, and you’re left, eyes open, chewing the grape in front of her. “Swallow,” and you swallow. You’re breathing sharply, it’s, that’s… that’s the only way you show the unpleasantness of eating the worst thing ever, with your neck stiff, with your eyes locked with hers.

It’s… confusion. You just ate your own least favourite food just because she told you to.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“Confused?” you reply with, with an odd tone… one that would seem to be attempting an edge-cutting chuckle, but you can’t seem to move your torso in a way that would get a chuckle out. If she was flirting, it was the weirdest flirting you’ve ever seen. But, it worked, didn’t it? You ate the grape for her? No, it didn’t work - you hated having to do that, why did she make you do that?

“Why did you make me do that?”, your tone starting to flatten out, the best voice you can put on while your upper body is paralysed. While your upper body is paralysed. While your whole body is paralysed - you try to move any muscle, you try to stand up, but you can’t move.

You wear the stab of fear on your face - and she notices. “Don’t try,” and you stop trying. You are locked in place. “Remember, don’t be loud,” and you will not be loud.

“What’s happening? What have you done?” you speak, at conversational volume. She’s standing up, and she’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, picking up your hand. She massages your palm with her thumb.

“You won’t worry. You’ll be calm,” and you won’t worry, you’ll be calm. You could feel a little tide of panicked tears approach your eyes, but you know, that’s the end of it. You don’t worry. You are calm. A fear, panicked and flailing, is replaced with simply being here and now. You ate the grape, as she instructed. You don’t move, as she instructed. You became calm, as she instructed. She’s in control now.

“What’s my name?”

“Your name is Charlotte,” you say, with a calmed and honest tone.

“What’s my name?”

“Your name is Charlotte.”

“What’s my name?”

“Your name is Charlotte.” Her name was Charlotte. You’d ask what her name was, in case you were being tricked. You thought to ask. You would ask her what her name was. You did not ask her what her name was. The waves of questions lashed and failed to produce words out of your mouth. Was ‘Charlotte’ a wrong answer? She didn’t say…

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling better.” What? What kind of an answer was that? But you knew, it was honest, and it was, somehow, the information she wanted. Alex has been pissing for a very long time.

“Do you love me?”

“I love you,” you tell the woman you met minutes ago, as she seems to root around in your head and take any information she pleased. You didn’t love her, you had the hots for her but that’s different, you - you love her. This was love. There wasn’t a feeling of horniness, there was a feeling of love.

“Love me more,” and you love her more. You’re… here with her, and that fills you with a feeling you can’t describe. You… Her. She’s everything. She’s everywhere. To think anything is to think of her, to imagine anything is to imagine her. All possible thoughts lead to her, like the winding branches of a tree always leading to the same leaf. You’re a drop in the ocean, you can feel that everything around you is Her, She gives you everything, She is your place, She is your everything. And she’s just kneeling in front of you with your hand in hers.

It’s… and you feel it. Creeping. Inside. It’s physical, a tingling sensation deep inside your skull spreading outwards, and it’s… it’s in your mind too, taking parts of you, your emotions, your thoughts processes, your memories, your dreams, and twisting Her over it like an infestation of vines. You… you are Cleo. You are an entry-level copywriter. You are a history graduate. But you, have memories. You follow the threads of your life backwards but they just keep going, your own life, your own memories… attached, integrated into… Her. She’s, She’s forever. She’s so much bigger than you. She’s the most important thing to ever happen.

“What’s my name?”

“Your name, is Charlotte,” you quiver out, incorrectly. You followed the threads of memory but couldn’t quite reach.

“What’s my name?” and you can feel it closer to your grasp, so you remember Her name.

“You have no name. You are above what I am. You are me as I am part of You. You are powerful as I am nothing. I am nothing, that You can use as something more. You are my strength, my love, my owner, my empress, my goddess. You are Everything and I am Yours.”

And when you say it, She, She thanks you. No words come out of her mouth. But the knowledge of gratitude enters your mind, and you have been thanked by Her, and She is the most important, and Her thanks are the most important thing in the universe.

You’re a thousand metres deep in your thoughts, in, in Her thoughts. But she’s still kneeling in front of you. You’re sitting in a room on a bad sofa and she is Everything.

It’s as though the vines constricting your mind are released one by one. She doesn’t control you anymore. You’re in control of your own thoughts again, and you look at your hands and realise you’re in control of your body again. So you fall forward off the sofa and place your arms around her, you fall in for dear life as a tidal wave of emotion hits. Now come the tears. She holds you close, too. You feel it, deep within yourself, that she loves you too.

You pull back and look at her face. It’s like everything makes sense now. “You’re perfect,” you manage to sputter through the tears, “You made yourself perfect for me.” And your thoughts seem to keep going, they seem to become hers, and you know. You know that this, what She is, is your perfect. A perfect trap set to snare you. And the silliness of it all makes you laugh as you fall back on her shoulder for another ugly sob. She holds you tight. Her embrace is your home.

“Oh, you’ve finished already?” comes Alex as he reenters the room. You look up and feel it, the roots of your thoughts tangling with his. You smile. You know.

“So, Alex was the first one?” you ask Her, knowing it’s true.

“Yes, now you’re the second,” says your new owner, though you already knew that too. You wonder why the three of you would even bother to speak considering she has mixed all your thoughts together, but you feel it quickly enough - words are love.

Alex sits on the floor next to you, cross legged, and you flop over from Charlotte into his lap and gaze up at his perfect face. He places his hand on your head and holds you, seeming to pet you almost. You return your gaze to Charlotte, and, and you try to reach out again, and you feel her there, again.

“I’m always here,” she says, answering your thoughts. So you try thinking some more, you think of your undying love for her, you think of devotion, you think of forever with her. You… you think her. She smiles. You think her come closer. She comes closer, leaning forward towards your place in Alex’s lap. It’s… it’s not as though you’re giving orders, it’s not as though you’re telling her to do something and she’s doing it, but more like you want something to be so, and it becomes so.

“Silly, it’s because we think the same now,” she responds. You feel her presence, in your thoughts, knowing your wants. So you want her kiss you, and as the neurons fire she leans in and kisses you. Paradise on Earth. You reach out to hold her, one hand managing to grasp her shoulder, the other hand clumsily pawing at her, frankly, silly breasts. She had you all figured out, didn’t she. You really are a predictable bitch. Her hand comes down to touch you too, grabbing your middle, comforting the dumb, self-hating thought. It feels so good.

You savour the knowledge. Knowing that you are part of her now gives you warmth. She pulls away. You feel the creeping inside your skull again, and she knows your thoughts and answers them with words.

“It won’t be long, baby,” she says. The words comfort you. She’s finishing up in there, claiming what’s left of your brain for her little empire. It feels so nice to be owned.

“I know how you feel!” Alex laughs, and you laugh. Even though you’re both Her now, he’s still him and you’re still you. Two little toys, playthings for your owner. Her stuff feels like it’s descending your spinal cord, she wants you be still, so you stay still in Alex’s lap. It… spreads. All inside you. Every inch of nervous wiring getting claimed, and it spreading into the tissues, and your blood and fluids and organs becoming her.

“How did you two meet, though?” you ask.

“Oh, happenstance,” Alex jokes, and you smile, but you find your thoughts directed through his memories, through, your collective memories. A break in space. A vision of a universe so big. A form so ancient and neverending, how he feared, how it took him, how it used him, how it took over his mind and body. How he became her in our world, and how she grew within him, creating herself a new form to call her own. How they rented a new place together, with enough space for a few more human servants, and ensnared me first. How that which grew within Alex, and grew to create Charlotte, is seizing my body now. How I’m part of her now.

“Passion fruit. And a hint of pineapple and mango,”she says, returning her hand to your cheek. It makes you smile, and she leans in. “I can be anything. I can be the perfect honey trap for any specific person, I can be a creeping infestation through your nerves, I can be the world’s most delicious poison.”

Her eyes close. Her eyes open. They’re black as space itself now. You gaze, devoted. An infinity, an infinity within her eyes. And an inky black tendril emerges from her torso and winds its way around your middle, holding you gently, another around your head. Her skin morphs to oil. She feels like perfection.

But she lets up. The gunk falls back within her, and she’s this ‘Charlotte’ character again.

“I love her, by the way!” you say, admiring her perfection. “I love the top, I love the body, I love the everything.” She’s flattered. She knows already, but words are love.

“You should’ve seen what he made for me,” says Alex. And although you have Alex’s memories, you know what ‘Matt’ looked like, Matt appears before you. Charlotte’s skin ripples and twists and grows and shrinks, the oily sludge forming and reforming to create the most basic, manicured ‘hot guy’ you’ve ever seen. Alex gets a little hard underneath you.

It sends you immediately. “You basic fucker!” you laugh at Alex, who buries his head on Matt’s shoulder through laughs of shame. You can feel the want subsiding within you, and you can feel yourself being allowed to move again. You lift yourself up out of Alex’s lap and gain purchase on the brick-wall torso. You gaze into Matt’s eyes, and you slobberingly kiss him. But he changes again and you fall forward through oily gunk. You can feel it all around you, embracing you all over. It slurps together and it’s Charlotte again - lying on her back, as you’ve fallen on top.

You feel her thoughts. You are the same. You look at your hands, and hope, and know, and yes - a small drop of black gunk forms, and detaches. You feel love. You feel your place. You look over at Alex, and let the feeling well up inside you, as you deform, as you collapse into sludge. You squirm, you see, you taste. You feel every part of Charlotte’s body all at once, and feel her thoughts, and let her become her godly self, a black mass of tendrils and fluid. You give her control as her form mixes totally with yours, integrating, becoming one thing on the floor of this dingy terraced flat.

[btsmosphere]

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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[arveeee]

The beginning

Bishop Losa x Reader

Like always: sorry for my bad English.

Gif by: sonsofeorl

The bicycle was in parts, you just hoped all parts were there. You brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead and took another look. The bicycyle was your only hope of getting out of this shithole. An idyllic holiday on your father's farm was supposed to be the beginning of a new life. You were glad you were going to spend some time with your father. And you were hoping to recover a little from the toxic relationship you'd been in for the last 7 years. 7 years of a wasted life.

But here in Southern Cali, nothing was as it was supposed to be. The farm was no longer a farm, but a house in the middle of the great semi-desert hills, and it was a house in need of a lot of renovation. Southern California was no paradise either, but a sunburned dusty place. And as soon as you arrived, your father left you the keys to his old truck, muttered some words, something between goodbye and apology, got on his motorcycle and drove off into the blue, which was really not a blue, but a dusty road ahead.

You didn’t have much to do. You should be looking for a job, but first, you wanted to get some rest. And after cleaning the old house, making the beds where you planted tomatoes and peppers, and in the boxes on the terrace, herbs, you found resting is boring. Especially as the phone coverage was really poor and certainly didn't allow you to watch Netflix. So the next day you packed a small bag, grabbed a map and decided to make a trip to the ocean. The truck made strange sound. It stated somehow strangly, jerked and stalled. Gentle speech, swearing and kicking did little. It was still working 3 days before when you went shopping in Santo Padre and everything seemed fine. But now it wouldn't move.

You returned home and realised that all you had left was a hammock on the terrace and admiring the blue sky. An idyllic holiday in the middle of nowhere.

After a few days of lying in a hammock, you understood that, yes, it was nice, but you also had to eat. And even if the fasting is good for your figure, it cannot go on indefinitely. You didn't really know who to call. Anyway, the phone most of the time didn't want to connect. You considered walking towards the city, but Santo Padre was too far to walk. And then you remembered that you saw a bicycle in the shack. You went to inspect it and you quickly realised that these were bicycle parts rather than a bicycl. But you dragged everything outside the house and decided to try to put it back together. There was not a single cloud in the sky. It was hot.

You brushed your hair off your sweaty forehead. And then you heard the whirr of a motorcycle. Motorcycles - you corrected yourself while still leaning over the bicycle. You were a little relieved that your father was coming back and would take care of the truck. The sun was shining straight into your eyes, so you shielded them with your hand and looked out the way. Two motorcycles were coming along, but it wasn't until they got closer that you realised that neither looked like your father's. Neither of the motorcyclists was your father. You bent down and discreetly picked up the wrench you were using to assemble the bike.

They stopped two metres in front of you and removed their helmets. You involuntarily stepped back without letting go of the wrench.

The one with a smaller posture and a moustache smiled and as he did so his whole face lit up.

- Are you Taza's daughter? We came to check on you.

You didn't say a word because you didn't know what was going on. And who was Taza?

The other, taller, with a round, nice face and hands tattooed up to his wrists noticed your confusion.

- We're friends of Che. I'm Hank and this is Bishop - he pointed at the other guy. - Let me see what you have got here.

He walked over to the bike parts and before you knew it he took the wrench out of your hand.

He looked at the parts and put the frame of the bike upright.

- Let me help you here.

- Che is not at home. - you murmured.

The other one smiled.

- We know he isn't. He asked us to stop by and see if you were okay. Let's go inside. - He passed you by and entered the house. You followed him in. The man opened the fridge. It was clearly not his first time here. He looked inside.

- it’s empty. Not even a beer.

- I can make tea. Or give you water, if you like.

- Tea? - he laughed again.

He took a glass and poured himself some water from the tap. He sat down at the table. You leaned against the kitchen table. Now you could look at him. He was quite a bit younger than your father. He had a moustache that quite suited him, a very nice smile and warm eyes. On the cut he wore he had similar stripes as your father. Now you noticed it. Only where your father had “Vicepresidente”, and that one had “Presidente”. “Interesting” - you said to yourself. He had a nice smile, but you also saw his muscular hands and knew it was better not to get in his way. Just like the one who stayed outside. That one looked a bit like a wrestler.

- Are you all right, sweetheart? - He looked at you until you blushed. You were wearing a tiny blouse that you had put on to repair your bicycle and quite short trousers. You were sweaty and dusty, but he was looking at you with... admiration?

You didn't really know what to say, so you just wrapped yourself in the scarf that was lying on the back of the kitchen chair and poured yourself some water too.

- It's not going to work, princesa - you heard Hank's voice. - One of the wheels is missing a hub. And the brakes are missing too. Unless you have them somewhere.

- I don't have any - you sighed.

- Why do you need a bicycle, where would you like to go in this heat?

- I need groceries.

- Shopping? And you know that the nearest store is 30 miles away.

- I have no choice. The truck broke down.

- Broke down? Then why didn't you tell me right away?

- When was the last time you ate? - Bishop was concerned and threw a meaningfully look at the fridge.

- Jesus christ, girl. - Hank just sighed.

- Let's go - Bishop moved to the door. - Come on, you need to be fed.

- I need to get changed. - The conversation about food finally convinced you to trust them.

An hour later you were finishing your burger at the diner and talking to Bishop like you'd known him for ten years. Hank left you by the dfiner alone with Bishop. And it didn't bother you at all. Bishop wanted to order you some more dessert, but that was too much.

- We'll go to the club now and figure out what to do with your truck.

- I need to do some groceries.

- Don't worry about it, querida. - Bishop put his arm around you and led you toward his motorcycle. And smiled to you. You suddenly felt as safe as never before. And that's when you realized that despite thousands of promises that it would never happen to you again, it did.

You fell in love.

Tags: @megapeacelovemusic-blog @est1887

[carelessannie]

Fair by The Amazing Devil with starker?

Thank you sweet anon!! I’ve been listening to this song on repeat, and love the simple domesticity of their story.

Hope you enjoy!

Here’s the song on Spotify Here’s the song on YouTube “And he'll say ‘It's not fair, it's not fair how much I love you’ And she’ll say 'Oh, how, oh, how unreasonable How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do I'll spend my days so close to you’”

---

There’s a blur of motion through the living room, into the kitchen, and out the door as Peter flies past him, waving his arms and yelling, “Hurry, Tony! You’re gonna miss it!” before disappearing out onto the terrace.

With one last look to the risotto gently simmering on the stove top, Tony sets down his spoon and follows Peter outside with an exasperated shake of his head.

“You have twenty seconds, honey, and then I’ll have to—”

“Shh!” Peter hisses, grabbing his hand and pointing across the balcony, “You’re gonna scare them!”

It takes Tony a moment to catch it, the small movement on the end of the terrace, tucked underneath the railing and balancing precariously over the ledge. The small bundle of branches and sticks somehow looks at home on the platform of their modern, New York high-rise, and he can hear the barely there— but devastatingly familiar— chirp of baby birds from within.

There’s a squeak, like the sound of a rusted hinge, to Tony’s left, and he turns to find Peter covering his mouth with tears in his eyes. He’s crying, completely worked up about the tiny beaks and hungry mouths screaming for food from within the nest.

Tony can’t look away.

Peter falls to his knees, shuffling forward inch by inch, and Tony has to stifle a laugh at the production. His sweet boyfriend is making absolutely ridiculous cooing noises, speaking in tones that Tony has never heard produced by a human male before, and extending his fingers as if he’s calling over a traumatized kitten.

And Tony can’t look away.

“God, it’s not fair how much I love you.”

There’s silence. For a moment he’s horrified. The words slipped from his lips without a thought, and Tony's startlingly aware of each chirp from the nest, the sounds of the city below them, the wind as it blows and mocks him.

He dares to look at Peter in the midst of his vulnerability, but his younger partner isn’t even looking up at him. He’s just shifting closer to the nest, staring into it with a laser focus.

“Tony,” he whispers, unmoving.

“Yes?”

“Can you grab me two blankets?”

It isn’t even a debate. Tony quickly turns and jogs through the house, racing into their bedroom. He grabs the softest blanket off of their bed and another warm blanket out of the closet, to give Peter options.

When he returns, Peter is still kneeling. He turns his head slightly, glancing between the two options, before grabbing the warmer blanket. Tony watches Peter’s deft fingers and strong arms as they wrap and tuck and tie the ends of the blanket, until it’s perfectly swaddling and cradling the nest.

“Wow,” Tony breathes, thoroughly impressed.

Peter pushes to his feet and motions for the second blanket. Tony hands it over wordlessly, and follows Peter’s movements as he drops back to the ground, curling up against the siding, and extending his arms, “Join me?”

Tony scrambles to obey, letting Peter drape the soft fabric over both of their shoulders. His body is warm, so warm, pressed up against his own, and he looks down into Peter’s eyes.

“Let’s spend our whole life like this, Tony,” Peter breathes between them. Tony leans forward and presses their foreheads together.

The risotto burns, of course it does, but Tony can’t bring himself to care. This is more important. Each moment like this, each day like this, is more important.

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 8 - the eleventh

🔖 [first] [prev] [next]

—

ch 8 | the eleventh

The rest of the day you spend running your fingers across the rows and rows of bound leather, taking inventory of all the words and knowledge and stories that were now at your fingertips — scurrying between the library and your room, arms full of books that caught your eye. 

Zhongli watched you from his seat in the living room each time you passed, offering comments on various books that you had picked out. He seemed especially amused each time you ran past with a book regaling a legend of the Lord of Geo, though you couldn’t think of a reason why. By the time the sun had set, every surface of your room had been touched by a book or two. 

You couldn’t wait to get started, already knew which ones you wanted to read first — there was one that promised the thrilling tale of Rex Lapis’ fight against the Beast of Nian that you were itching to devour. But before anything else, there was something you had to do, something you’d been planning as soon as you’d seen the “The Fine Art of Liyue Cuisine” title on the bookshelves. 

Zhongli had been kind — beyond that, really — about your situation, but you hadn’t forgotten that you were meant to be here for his convenience. You had done nothing but cause him trouble so far, and it was your duty to make up for the expenses you’d cost him. 

(Though really, and though you would never admit it, you couldn’t deny that on some very faint level, you wanted to hear praise, your name, anything come out in that rich, deep voice of his.)

So the next time Zhongli took his walk at Yujing Terrace, you reluctantly and politely declined his invitation. Minutes after his departure, you snuck out of the door, running as fast as you could towards the northern harbor. The recipe for the pen’cai stew had called for fish, but, as you grabbed handfuls of squid from the nearest unattended stall, you decided that seafood would have to do. Seafood was something that refined nobles like Zhongli ate, after all.

The tentacles felt disgusting in your pocket the entire way home, but it was fine. You could bear it for Zhongli. You couldn’t wait to imagine his surprise and delight.

Still, how odd that of all the ingredients, seafood was the only one you couldn’t find in Zhongli’s well-stocked refrigerator! 

When you got home, you breathed a sigh of relief that Zhongli had not come home yet; you didn’t know what you would have said if he had caught you with a pocket full of squid. After changing, you cracked the recipe book open, staring at it. You’d chosen this recipe because its description had stated “ no refinement is needed for this dish ”, but still, some of these terms flew right over your head. What the fuck was a “julienne”?

Zhongli had used the stove several times, mostly to heat up leftovers from the abysmal amount of food he frequently bought, and it hadn’t seemed too hard at all for him. You would learn, just as you always did. 

---

By the time Zhongli returned home, smoke was still billowing from the windows. 

---

It was all a bit of a haze for you. The oil had started producing bright sparks (in your defense, how were you supposed to make sense of “ Heat Oil Until Hot ”??), and you knew enough about cooking at least to know that that wasn’t good. 

You also thought you knew enough about cooking to know that embers had to be put out by water. The resulting bang had sent you rolling to the floor, and when you’d gotten back up, the curtains by the stove were ablaze

When Zhongli found you, you were frozen in fear — you had backup plans for if the food burnt, but this… this went a little past that. 

From behind you, you heard a loud whoosh, felt the force of the earth knock into you. The room became enveloped briefly in a golden glow, and as you watched, the fire faded into embers, then smoke. A single glowing, red gem clattered to the ground, before dissipating with a loud hiss.

“H-how?” Was the first word out of your lips. 

“When Geo reacts with—“ Zhongli shook his head, cutting his explanation short for the first time you’d heard, “never mind that. Are you alright? Can you move?”

You let him lead you outside, numbly, silently. Finally, out in the fresh morning air, he peered down at you. You searched his face for anger, but found only mild curiosity. “Now,” Zhongli said, sitting on the grass by your side, ”would you like to tell me what happened in there?”

The weight of what you’d done hit you like an angry boar. Treacherous tears gathering behind your eyes, you whispered “I’m so sorry,” barely able to get the apologies out fast enough. “I— I thought I would surprise you with breakfast, but— but the oil and the water...“ You trailed off when he raised his hand to cover his mouth — out of anger? No, there was a smile on his face. A smile!

“My my,” he mused, the smallest of smiles playing on his face. “Truly, you are a child of Liyue. Always trying new things, rushing in headstrong.” Zhongli shook his head wistfully. “It reminds me of myself, many years ago.”

“You?” You asked in disbelief, feeling your eyes widen. You hadn’t once seen him with so much a button out of place on his intricate coat; weren’t convinced he hadn’t come out of the womb drinking pu’er tea and writing poetry. “ You’ve set things on fire before, Mr. Zhongli?”

“More times than I can count,” his smile widened, and you felt like you had learned a secret of the Gods themselves. “But as I learned, so must you: you can always ask for help, Hansi.”

Suddenly, it didn’t feel like he was talking about cooking anymore. As always, his words were so slow, so deliberate that you scoured them for a hidden meaning. If you didn’t know better, you would be deathly sure that he knew of your difficulties with the Vision. And right now, sitting on the grass next to you after you had almost burned down his home, Zhongli had never felt more approachable. Maybe you could tell him, after all.

Starting a fire was one thing , you chided yourself. Lying about possessing the power of one of the Seven Archons is another.

“I will keep that in mind, Mr. Zhongli.” You said, instead, bowing your head a little. “Thank you for… not being mad.”

“It is I who should be thanking you for your thoughtfulness. And what is it that you were trying to cook for me, my dear?”

You almost jumped at that, feeling warm color blossoming within your cheeks. He probably called everyone that — he was so traditional, after all. “Seafood stew, Mr. Zhongli.” 

Finally, to your utter confusion, Zhongli’s smile bloomed into a rich laugh. “Then I’m very sorry I missed it,” he chuckled. “Are culinary skills something you would like to learn, Hansi?” 

“Yes,” you said, frustration and indignance culminating into determination. There wasn’t one thing you hadn’t been able to learn when you’d put your heart to it — reading, stealing, surviving. Well, except... “Please, teach me.”

“You deserve a far better teacher than I,” Zhongli said, standing up and dusting his coat off, before offering you his hand. “Let’s pay Wanmin Restaurant a visit, shall we?” Then, wrinkling his nose, “though perhaps... After we rid the house of any more fire hazards.”

---

At the counter of Wanmin Restaurant was a man you had never seen before, though his resemblance to Xiangling was striking. He perked up immediately upon seeing you and Zhongli approach.

“Mr. Zhongli!” He waved frantically. “Thank you for the medicine! My knee feels better already.”

“I’m glad, Chef Mao. I’ve heard that Bubu Pharmacy’s herbal cures are nothing short of divine miracles,” Zhongli said. “Though I hear from Xiangling that you’ve been gathering herbs near Jueyun Karst? You must know that it is extremely dangerous for humans to enter.”

“Of course, of course!” Chef Mao laughed good-naturedly. “You don’t have to warn me twice. I make sure to give that place a good berth —  I don’t have enough lives to go around meeting any Adepti. Now, what brings you here today? Xiangling or I will cook anything you’re in the mood for.”

Zhongli shook his head gently. “I’ll have to take you up on that offer some other time. Today, I was hoping to ask Xiangling for some culinary tutelage. This young lady here is looking to learn how to cook.”

“Oh!” Chef Mao peered at you, as though he had just noticed you. Of course, it hadn’t helped that you were trying to hide behind Zhongli the whole time. He turned around and yelled into the kitchen, “XIANGLING! COME HERE, MR. ZHONGLI AND HIS—“ 

A pause, as he glanced between you and Zhongli, trying to ascertain your relationship.

“Friend,” Zhongli supplied. You hated that your heart skipped a beat.

“—FRIEND ARE HERE TO SEE YOU!”

Almost immediately, Xiangling’s head popped out from behind the window, waving and beaming dazzlingly. As Zhongli explained the situation to her, you once again wondered where she was storing her endless cheer. Perhaps in her hairbuns. 

“I hope that it is not too much trouble,” Zhongli concluded, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping aside. You wanted to scream at the thought that he knew you’d been trying to hide behind him.

“Nonsense!” Chef Mao slapped his hands together, and you were beginning to see where Xiangling got her enthusiasm from. “If not for you getting Wanmin Restaurant this spot on Chihu Rock, why, Rex Lapis would never have found us and written such flattering poetry about our food. Then where would we be? No favor is too big for you, my friend, let alone something so trivial as this.” 

You glanced up at Zhongli, but his expression did not change. Just exactly how much influence did Zhongli have over the city? 

Just who was he? 

“Would Miss Hansi want to work as my apprentice for a few weeks?” Xiangling asked, thoughtfully. “With the winter coming up soon, we’re going to need a lot of ingredients, so I could use an extra hand. We can’t pay very much, maybe 1,000 Mora a week, but I’ll keep you nice and full, I promise!”

A thousand Mora — that was more than you had ever had at once in your life. You jumped to say yes, but stopped yourself just in time. It wasn’t up to you. For all Zhongli’s benevolence, what nobleman would want a servant (is that what you even were?) that they'd paid for gone all day? 

You looked to Zhongli for his answer. And when he only waited patiently, you prompted, “may I accept this offer, Mr. Zhongli?”

“You are free to do as you please, Hansi.” Zhongli said, and the surprise didn’t sting as much as it used to. “I think it would be a great opportunity.”

You had never been more sure of the following “yes!” that you almost shouted at Xiangling.

Chef Mao laughed. “We’ll see how much of that enthusiasm you can keep when Xiangling starts working you to the bone!” He waved at Zhongli. “Xiangling and I will show her around the restaurant. You should get back to your work, Mr. Zhongli — you must be a very busy man.”

Zhongli raised a brow, but did not comment further. “Will you be able to find your way back home, Hansi?”

After getting your affirmation, Zhongli nodded and walked away. You would have watched him leave, if you could, studying every detail on the back of his coat — but Xiangling grabbed your hand.

“Come on!” She was almost vibrating from excitement, and you couldn’t help but match her grin with your own. “There’s SO much I need to show you!”

---

By the time Xiangling released you from your duties for the day (and you had learned more words than you thought existed), the city had grown dark.

It had been so exciting, the prospect of having a real, actual job that you didn’t have much else on your mind. And so your first mistake, you realized too late, was trying to find the same shortcuts that Zhongli had used to get home. The alleyways at night were strangers to you  — and there was good reason for it.

You thought it was your imagination at first, but it became more apparent with every crawling second: there was another pair of footsteps that echoed each of your own. You quickened your pace, noticing the echo match yours almost perfectly. As you turned down deeper between the buildings, you forced your foot to stop halfway to the ground.

The echoing footstep clacked against the cobblestone. 

There was a flurry of movement behind you, your pursuer realizing that their cover had been blown. The figure lunged at you, and you ducked at the last second— you were used to bigger men throwing their bodies at you, had long since learned how to use their weight against them. With all your strength, you aimed a kick at the man’s groin—

Only for him to catch your ankle with one of his gloved hands, yanking you off your feet, and throwing you against the wall. The impact knocks all the air from your lungs. You scrambled to get back to your feet, coughing. Instinctively, you reached for your chest, where your Vision once was. It wasn’t there. Of course. And even if it was, what good would it be?

“Feisty,” the man remarked, leaning in to peer at you. In the dim moonlight, you could see a strange red mask hanging his cheek, stark against his auburn hair. At his hip, a Vision glowed royal blue, with a frame that you had never seen before. “What on Teyvat has Zhongli gotten himself into?”

---

“Who are you?” You snapped. The man kept his careful distance from you, but you were sure that he would be able to catch you in seconds if you ran. The way he had moved to meet your blow was practiced, skilled, even. It seemed that you had misjudged his intentions — he was not some drunken man seeking pleasure. “Are you from Bawang ?”

“Ba—what?” The man shook his head, clutching his heart in a dramatic show of dismay. “I’m hurt. Didn’t Mr. Zhongli not tell you about me? Not even a passing mention?”

Eyeing him carefully, you racked your brains. Was he a friend of Zhongli’s? Surely no associate of Zhongli would corner you in an alley at night and push you over... Right? You were realizing how little (absolutely nothing, to be exact), you knew about Zhongli’s life. 

 “Was the ‘who are you?’ not enough of a clue?”

The man grinned wickedly in the night, eyes glinting at your mockery. “What a tongue you have on you. Didn’t know that was Zhongli’s type.” He offered his hand to you. “I’m Tartaglia, codename Childe. Pleased to meet you.”

You stared at his hand like you would a can of live worms. “The one from the Fatui.”

The message received, he let his hand fall back to his side. “So he has talked about me. And here I was, thinking that he saw me as just a puppet.” He mused. You had no clue what he was talking about, but it was immediately clear that the man was dangerous. 

“Are you here to collect his debt? I don’t have any money.” 

“Debt?” Tartaglia laughed. “No, there’s no debt . Mr. Zhongli has unlimited access to the Northland Bank’s funds. Yeah,” he clarified, mistaking your shock for confusion. “Turns out, you need to read the fine print when it comes to making deals with the guy.”

“Then what do you want from me?” 

“Oh, come now,” he raised his palms in a placating manner, “don’t be so harsh. I’m only here to investigate. Zhongli has been buying enough food for a small army, and while it’s not entirely unusual of him, he also made a large payment to a certain company... that let’s just say even the Fatui won’t touch with a six-foot pole.” Tartaglia swept his glance over you from head to toe. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

You stayed silent, wishing to the Archons that looks could kill.

“I don’t know why he… acquired you, but believe me, he’s always got some kind of plan going on in that head of his.” Tartaglia sighed. “Anyway, where’s your Vision? 

You stiffened. “Vision?” You scoffed. The false disbelief came easily, naturally. “You think the Archons would give someone so pathetic a Vision?” 

“You can cut the crap. I saw the way you reached for it there. I’ve seen that look way too many times. Vision-holders who get too dependent, who think that having one makes them invincible.” Tartaglia’s lip curled. “A Vision wouldn’t have saved you from me, girlie. But someone as weak as you should at least be carrying it around.”

Every moment of the day, you thought of it, of how all your problems would be solved if — when — you mastered the power of the Archons. The thought that it wouldn’t, that knowing how to use a Vision wouldn’t make you invincible to the world, was devastating.

Before you, Tartaglia’s eyes were the color of the ocean during monsoon seasons, deep, roiling, devastating. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to lie again, so you lowered your head.

“That’s what I thought. What element?”

“Geo,” you said quietly. The only thing you could do here was keep him talking, long enough until you could find a chance to escape. From what you could tell, he didn’t seem to be on too-friendly terms with Zhongli. Perhaps he wouldn’t tell him, after all. 

“Of course.” He nodded, as though there was no other answer.

“What do you mean, of course?” 

“ What I mean is —“ Tartaglia peered at you, raising a single brow. “Hmm. What does Zhongli think of your Vision?”

You bit your lip to stop from responding. This was dangerous territory. As the seconds dragged on in silence, you watched a glimmer of glee creep into Tartaglia’s eyes. “Oh! Oh my Archon. You haven’t told him!” The Fatui Harbinger threw back his head and laughed with abandon. “Oh, that’s great! This is beautiful!”

You waited a good half minute for Tartaglia to finally wipe all the tears from his cheeks. “Are you done?” You’d been slowly edging towards the exit of the alley, keeping your eyes trained on the Fatui. As long as you could get to Wanmin Restaurant you would be safe... but no. You couldn’t drag Xiangling and Chef Mao into this. You still didn’t understand half the things Tartaglia had said, but you knew that the Fatui’s attention wasn’t something you wanted, no matter who you were.

“Yes, yes,” Tartaglia huffed, fanning himself dramatically.

“What’s so funny?”

“My contract ,” he almost spat the word, “mandates that I stay silent about that one, sorry.  But don’t worry, I’ll keep your little secret. I’d love to see the look on your face when... Anyway. I’m here to give you an offer.”

“Next time, try offering over lunch or something,” you didn’t know where you found the courage to snap, “instead of in an alley.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Tartaglia threw his hands up, somewhat apologetically. “It’s been so hard to catch you alone.” Had he been watching you and Zhongli? You grimaced. “But anyway. How would you like… all the Mora you could ever need? Anything you want to buy, eat or wear, yours, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. 

“…And what do you want from me?”

“Information,” he replied, “about Zhongli. How to fight him, really, but also anything else he—“ 

At this point, you were beginning to feel inclined to believe that the man was simply missing half his marbles. Finally feeling like you had put enough distance between him and yourself, you turned and ran — for a whole two seconds, when a strong force yanked you backwards. 

“Hey now, hasn’t Mr. Zhongli taught you anything about manners?” He tutted as you flailed in his grip, “I wasn’t done talking— whoa!”

He ducked, barely avoiding a projectile that whizzed past his cheek, so close that you could hear it whistle through the air. You peer at where it landed, firmly embedded into the brick wall. 

It was a golden spear that glowed dimly in the light. Its design was immaculate, intricate, beautiful , you thought numbly, as you watched it fade before your eyes. 

“Well then,” Tartaglia said tightly, “never mind  her manners. It’s not like you to get so worked up, Mr. Zhongli.”

You snapped your head towards the entrance of the alleyway. You’d recognize the silhouette anywhere, but in that moment, with the same spear gripped in his hand and his features edged silver under the moonlight, eyes glowing a ravenous gold, Zhongli looked particularly divine.

“If I were worked up , Childe, I would not have missed,” Zhongli said, twirling the spear once before setting the pole against the cobblestone. The way he moved -- natural, relaxed, as though the polearm seemed like an extension of his body. There was no anger in his voice, but you felt a slight tremor in the ground under your feet and, despite your situation, a jolt of excitement at the thought of seeing Zhongli fight, seeing a Geo Vision in use. 

“Oho?” Childe let go of your sleeve, crouching down low as glowing blue energy gathered in his hands. “Sure sounds like you’re asking for a fight. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this!” 

Zhongli regarded him coolly for a moment. “Look around you. Is this really where you want to fight me, Childe?” He raised his head, and you and Tartaglia followed his gaze to a window. Behind the glass, you could make out a young girl’s face as she stared wide-eyed down at the scene below. 

To your surprise, the Fatui paused. You hadn’t marked him down as the type to worry about collateral damage. Finally, he shifted back into a more relaxed stance, waving his fingers clean of Hydro. “You know me a little too well, Mr. Zhongli,” he smiled, all hostility seemingly forgotten. You may have misjudged his empathy, but you certainly hadn’t imagined his unhinged nature. 

“What business do you have with Hansi?” Zhongli asked.

“That’s our little secret. Well, I’ll leave you two to… whatever it is you do.” He winked. “Remember, you still owe me a dinner sometime, Mr. Zhongli.”

“Certainly,” Zhongli said, lowering his hand and letting his spear disintegrate from between his fingers. “Though I must warn you, it will be the Northland Bank bearing the bill.” 

“Of course.” Childe chuckled one more time, as though he remembered something funny. “See you around, Hansi.”

---

On the way home, Zhongli was uncharacteristically quiet. As you entered the warmth of his — of your home, you tried to break the silence. “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Zhongli.”

Zhongli stayed quiet for a short while more, staring at you so intently it stung. “Forgive my silence,” he finally said. “When I couldn’t find you at Wanmin, I thought that you had been hurt or… that you had run away.”

Astonished, you didn’t really know what to say. Running away was a thought that had crossed your mind, but each time, the cons far outweighed the pros. You were more than familiar with what awaited you on the streets of Liyue. “I am not so stupid to be ignorant of what would happen to me if I did” There was a pregnant pause. “And besides, I have had no reason to, Mr. Zhongli. You have been more than kind to me.”

Zhongli smiled. Was it just your imagination, or were his meltingly gorgeous smiles coming more and more often? Trying not to let your thoughts wander, you blurted the first thing that came to mind. “That spear was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It has served me well.”

“Do you really know how to use it?” There had been no weaponry in the house that you’d seen, but you believed him wholeheartedly.

“I am somewhat versed in its usage, yes.” 

“How long did it take you to learn how to fight?” You wondered, sincerely. 

“I have always known how to fight, for as long as I can remember.” Suddenly, his weathered hands made sense. With your notions of him growing up as a sheltered, rich noble shattered, you had never been more curious of his past. Had he been part of the Millelith? “Though, I have since come to learn that it was never true strength. Why do you ask, Hansi?”

You hesitated, nervously glancing away. Way to dig yourself a hole. “Just wondering.”

“Hansi, I gave you my word to keep you safe, to the best of my abilities. However, I fear that there may be times when I may not be by your side, such as tonight.” Zhongli seemed to think deeply about his next words. “Remember that if you want to learn how to fight, you just need to ask.” 

Tell him , a voice in your mind screamed. Tell him about the damned Vision.

As tempting as it was, you were indeed more than familiar with what awaited you on the streets of Liyue. You would not risk, even remotely, your position in Zhongli’s household.

“Thank you, Mr. Zhongli,” you mustered the warmest smile you could, as you stood up to retreat to your room. “I will keep that in mind.”

“That’s all I ask,” Zhongli exhaled deeply. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

[sleeplessandstubborn]

Emily in Paris or why I stopped caring for the main character and started rooting for the French. Episode 2.

I must confess one thing. I have a sort of admiration for people who have the habit and the will of go running before work, because I don’t do these things, and people who can do it while wearing what seems like a lace top (?) maybe more adequate for other things, but who am I to judge if Emily looks perfectly fine when running while I look like a bag with sport wear. So congratulations Miss Cooper you are doing well in this aspect. Also shows that Emily is adapting her schedules and her habits to her new life. Example: she’s not going to arrive early to work this time. Lesson learnt, so good for her!

Unfortunately there are still things she must get right. Example given, knowing exactly where her apartment is. She again tries to invade her cute neighbour’s home, which causes him to ask if she wants to live in his apartment. At this stage, there are reasons to suspect indeed. But there’s no time enough for our two character to devour each other with their eyes, so, after a last invitation to bang anytime from our delicious neighbour Emily goes back home to get a shower and dress for work.

Her white boots, however, have an unfortunate encounter with a material of animal origin. She’s naturally disgusted and deals with it making another Instagram post. Discovering, by the way, that she’s gaining more and more followers for ther photos of fictional! Paris.

Sidenote: this scene can mean two things from yours truly’s point of view. Either Emily’s next days are going to be shitty or she’s going to be ultimately lucky. In France or Spain is very common to wish good luck with the word merde (or well, mierda in Spanish). In both cases it comes from the times people went to theatre or opera house in carriages drawn with horses. So a load of shit meant: you are in the greatest show in town. But probably is not that deep.

At Savoir, la Plouc is decaying as Emily’s sobriquet, and only Julien greets her with it. Besides, Emily has learn to strike back. Or rather is her smartphone the one she uses to retort Va te faire foutre! Which mean Fuck you but it’s not that imaginative. Why not mange tes morts, or some decent French swearing. Anyway well done, Emily, because this makes her earn Julien’s respect.

... But evidently not Sylvie’s. She is clearly contemplating the void and wondering if some kind of karmic justice has sent her this girl that can’t figure out why is la plouc instead of le plouc or won’t pronounce the name of the fragance De L’Heure from Lavaux. Sylvie doesn’t want to listen her ideas for promoting Lavaux’s last product. A little discussion insues between the two ladies. Must luxury remain an enclosed world? Should it be democratized in some way? Of course Emily thinks the point of view of an outsider could help, but, could you point at the outsider in this scene? Of course Emily is not French and still dealing with the continuous cultural clash. But she doesn’t seem an outsider by any means. And, ah. There’s a launch party for De L’Heure so she better hurry up and put some thing that doesn’t resemble whatever she’s wearing.

Was that fashion advice from Sylvie? Who knows. In any case, Emily looks quite pretty with her black dress. The handbag is funny but highly debatable. And she’s overjoyed and bubbly as she pursues trays full of delicious food. Which is a faux pas, from Sylvie’s point of view.

Enter Antoine Lambert from Maison Lavaux a.k.a. another Frenchman who is going to be attracted towards Emily’s many charms. Because that’s what Frenchmen do in this series. She fails to understand what a nose means in the world of fragances - it’s not that harsh to figure out, sometimes I wonder why they have written her like that; she’s suffering a severe case of cultural clash, but it doesn’t mean she’s stupid, argh -. Antoine is creeptractive. Especially in the next scene.

Which takes place in this terrace with the gorgeous view of a glittering Eiffel Tower. This makes Emily smile and would do everyone else who had the opportunity to assist. This makes up for Sylvie saying that she’s talking too much about bussiness during the party, which is something she should not do.

Monsieur le Creeptractive follows her and tests the fragance on her skin. A really weird dialogue about how she should have a French boyfriend because you learn French in bed... Yeah, sure.  Emily profess her fidelity to her engaged to be engaged Doug back in Chicago. Something that he doesn’t deserve but more on that immediately after. He smells her in a way that would make many women shudder and run away and compliments (?) her on smelling like expensive sex. Yikes yikes yikes.

All in all, is a successful night for Emily, but as she discovers the next day, she’s supposed to work not in the promotion of De l’Heure, but in some product  called Vaga-Jeune to help woment to combat vaginal dryness. Is that a mean move by Sylvie, or it’s only a logical thing for Emily to start there, given she has experience in pharmaceuticals? Discuss. She also tells our heroine not to be too flirty with Antoine, who is married to one of her very good friends. But immediately after Julien drops the bomb: Sylvie is actually Antoine’s mistress. Oops.

In order to deal with the amount of unwanted information, Emily texts to Mindy and they go for a dinner. Mindy gives her a few tips to survive in the complicate environment of a city where everyone is having affairs with everyone. As if in Paris - like everywhere else - didn’t exist people who doesn’t care about sex. In this universe, Emily still can’t wrap her head around the endemic lack of conyugal fidelity in this series.

We learn more about Mindy, who maybe would deserve more than being only Asian token character which is supportive of the main one just because. Indeed Mindy is for now my favourite character here, along with Sylvie. Mindy turns out to be in Paris because her millionaire zipper king father wanted her in the bussiness school, but, since living in Paris was one of her dreams, Mindy dropped it and became a nanny instead. Now she’s been cut off by dad, but she’s free and, besides, she finds funny to have grown up surrounded by nannies and now being one of them.

The temptation of MIndy taking over Emily in this series is too big when just in the next scene she thinks she can “educate the chef a little bit about customer service” without even tasting her steak, which she wants done more. Customer are not always right; some of them behave like annoying assholes. She swallows her words as Gabriel from downstairs emerges from the kitchen because of course he’s the chef. Somewhat that convinces her she should taste the steak before giving her opinion. It turns out the steak is wonderful, it was wonderful the whole time. Emily please. Try to behave.

(also Mindy wouldn’t mind to taste the chef instead of the steak, which is understandable)

Next day Emily is happily roaming around the market with a little hat perched on her head and the mind full of Chicago Boyfriend Doug. The little hat is so stupid that it’s almost charming, like someone more fit for a musical than for real people walking on real streets. She seems to have befriended the woman from the boulangerie, too! However, the happiness is to be shortlived...

... Because Doug, as his first scene already indicated, is someone who can’t bother to take his ass into a plane and fly to Paris where there is nothing to do while expecting for his girlfriend to come back from job. This guy must have one, but he’s so lazy that one wonders if he inherited it. Notice that, unlike in Paris, there are cars in Chicago. Doug proceeds then to inelegantly dump his girlfriend by phone.

Very fitting to have Emily standing just next to the Panthéon when the call is over and their relationship as dead as the people inside.

Emily is logically sad after this and the weather seems to agree with her mood, probably she cried to her sleep, or at least she shed some tears. He doesn’t deserve it, honey.

Her mood doesn’t improve when, at the office, she discovers a new thing. Yes, you have grammatical gender in French, as well as in other European languages. She is puzzled because, starting her campaign for Vaga-Jeune, she discovers vagine is a masculine word in French. She doesn’t understand it, and, in typical Emily fashion, she decides the problem is with this language she knows virtually nothing about.

She also learns a very important word for her future life in Paris: grève, which means strike. And it’s not going only a vagina strike. But who knows, she lives in a parallel universe so maybe there are no strikes there (since there is no public transport and/or services on sight even if we know it exist somewhere). And of course, post something on her Instagram account about how vaginas are not masculine.

During her (daily, one guess) conversation with Mindy during the lunch break, Emily loses at last this overoptimistic side of her that makes the character annoying and vents a little about her general exasperation. She thinks she’ll never learn the language (but girl, you barely tried, don’t be so harsh with yourself), or be simply tolerated by her workmates, or even understand how the city was built. She’ll be all right, Mindy insists, not very impressed at her friend’s disperation.

Which follows is one of the most cringeworthy deus-ex-machina I have seen, and adequately being a deus-ex-machina it comes from l’Élysée. Wink wink, mythology aficionados.

By the way, it’s that the façade which gives to the main courtyard of the French presidential palace? Yes it is. Here I am wondering where this footage came from and when it was filmed because I am that way. Seems the flag is at half mast from that point of view so... this could help to know in which moment was filmed... But screw that, you aren’t here for my personal obsessions, so lets go right to the point.

Somewhat Carla Bruni finds Emily’s post about vaginas utterly fascinating, to the extent that she has to share it with Brigitte Macron. And of course the current French First Lady (even if officially there is not such title in France) agrees and posts it in her Twitter account. We only see Fictional!Brigitte from her back. Real Brigitte doesn’t have accounts on social networks, by the way, which is understandable since after a while one gets tired of playing the game of guessing if the one who made the mysoginist and idiotic post is from the extreme right or the extreme left (it’s a difficult thing to tell apart, I assure you). Of course Emily’s post gets viral.

Brigitte Macron just retweeted you, bitch! is not bad as unexpected sentence on a screenplay in 2020, congratulations. Her partners at Savoir are overjoyed and suddenly Emily can share a table with them, yay! Though evolving from la plouc to our Vaga-Jeune is not really improving that much I guess? So that’s the end of the episode and Emily’s life seems not-so-that-depressing all of a sudden. So thank you Brigitte.

And that was Episode 2 of Emily in Paris. Our heroine was slightly less annoying than on first one, probably because the reality of being in a totally different country is starting to hit her and she’s had a few humblings by this moment. For the next one, we’ll know more about Monsieur le Creeptractive & the nonsense of fragance advertisements.

[thatordinaryoddity]

UPDATE: Once In A Blue Goddamn Moon

a 💗 Jamie & Dani Fanfiction 💗 [The Haunting Of Bly Manor, Netflix 2020]

written by thatordinaryoddity

Rating: K+

Words: ~9,5k

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Status: Complete (will be uploaded in three chapters + Prologue)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475423/chapters/67177879

FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13742358/2/Once-In-A-Blue-Goddamn-Moon

Summary: Jamie leaves Flora’s weeding more wrapped up in her thoughts than usual. In all those years, there hadn’t been a day without thinking of her deceased lover Dani. But sometimes, once in a blue goddamn moon, events coincide in an exceptional, odd way.

A/N: Hey there darlings! I hope you’re all doing well!

I’ve just managed to upload my fanfiction on AO3 and FF.net *yay*. In short, here’s the new update, have fun! Next chapter will be out tomorrow, same time, same place(s) - until then, stay awesome!

The Garden Above the City

____________________

 Jamie dropped off her luggage and went straight to the kitchen to get herself a cold, clear glass of water. Finally, after what felt like way more than an almost seven hour flight, she was in her usual environment again. To tell from the dawn outside the window, the day had just begun here in England since they had been on a nightplane. A little bit jetlagged, she pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders as she seated herself in the dark-green, cosy vintage loveseat. Like some sort of weird compulsion, she checked the water surface with every sip she took from her glass, hoping to see her reflection – as always, even after all this time, even after all this disappointing time.

In hope of getting some distraction from her train of thoughts, she grabbed the remote control for her radio and switched it on. Restless as the past few days had left her, she shifted around nervously on the seat, unable to find a comfortable way to sit. After a few fidgety minutes, the grey-haired woman gave up on finding any rest and decided to make herself a little something to eat instead. In the background, the music from the radio silenced to make room for the daily news. A female voice started talking:

And now to the weather forecast. This Friday autumn morning will be sunny in all parts of South England. It’s supposed to get cloudy with thunderstorms in the evening. Over the weekend, we expect rain in the greatest parts of Britain. Also, a rare Blue Moon will appear this weekend, coinciding with Halloween for the first time in more than 70 years. The full moon will rise in the east at 4.53 pm in the UK on Saturday, less than 20 minutes after the sun sets.

Jamie wasn’t even really listening. It was more like she heard the voice of the radio lady but couldn’t catch what she was saying. She was just tucked so far away in her own thoughts.

After she had eaten her breakfast and unpacked her suitcase, she decided to visit her favourite place in the world – Teddy’s little rooftop garden – one of the few things left to give her soul some comfort.

~

When Dani left all those years ago, Jamie had been unable to set another foot inside their florist’s shop back in America. Everything was connected to too many memories. There wasn’t a single spot where they hadn’t kissed. Sometimes, Jamie even came across a blonde hair here and there which would leave her as a sobbing wreck for the rest of the day.

She couldn’t even remember what she had been doing all day long during the first few weeks, if she had eaten or not, but she knew she hadn’t been sleeping for more than an hour at a time. She hadn’t even been able to bear collapsing into unconsciousness, because waking up from it to once again face her loss had been torture. She had begun to feel even worse since that one time she had gone to the shop, only to find all their plants dead due to the weeks of unintentional neglect. It hurt so much. All of it felt miserable.

After what had seemed like an eternity, some kind of inner healing had set in. Something inside her had told her she needed to move on. And although no hour had passed without her being reminded of that awful grief, Jamie had managed to move on one day. She had sold the flower shop and also her – their – flat, packed only the indispensables and booked a one way flight back to England. The woman had been aware that she couldn’t stay in America, in that cosy apartment, near the charming florist’s. It had been their dream, their life – and she would have perished had she stayed there.

Fortunately, she’d had some money left over from selling the flower shop and Henry Wingrave’s noble inheritance – he had sold all the antiquities and expensive, century-old furniture in Bly Manor to get rid of “all the old dust”. And since he was one of the only four people to remember what exactly had occurred at Bly Manor, he had decided to split the money between them as some sort of indemnity.

Back in Britain, Jamie had moved into a charming, suburban brick row house on the outskirts of a larger city. She’d been unable to bear living on the landside all alone because her own thoughts seemed too loud in all that silence. Likewise, living in the city centre had not been an option because the rush always unsettled her. Therefore, her current, modest accommodation had been just the right choice in her situation. Yet as the seasons had changed and one year had turned into two, the green-eyed woman had felt that something was missing inside her heart – the presence of a garden, of real flowers and plants. Since her row house didn’t have much more to offer than a few tiny window cills which were far too small to make a suitable home for all of her pot plants, Jamie had decided to search for something else. As luck would have it, she had found just what she had been looking for one day on the empty bus seat next to her while on her way home from grocery shopping. The forgotten newspaper on the seat right next to her had revealed just the right page of small ads:

Retired Gardener needs helping hand with his 40 sqm rooftop garden including a conservatory. All those interested please contact Theodore Campbell under ….

This ad had been more than just written words on the newspaper, it had been the beginning of something great, of something essential for the woman’s soul to find a little comfort and silence after all this time.

The years had gone by and turned her hair a steely gray, and she had gotten used to this new reality. Dani was never gone from her mind, not a single second, but it had become easier to live with all that screaming numbness inside her.

Theodore Campbell – Teddy – who suffered from multiple sclerosis and was confined to his wheelchair, had provided Jamie with so much love and understanding that he had become family to her. Truthful family, unlike those people who were related to her by blood. The elderly woman had shared her story with the old man and he had listened, understood, and remained silent when she had just needed to cry. Thus the little garden above the city had become not only a diversion, a pastime – but instead it had become home to her.

Teddy was 85 years old by now and Jamie visited him at least five days a week. Just as much as she saw him as a father, the old man loved Jamie like his own daughter. His wife had also passed away many, many years ago and the couple never had any children. Somehow, Teddy was a kind of role model for the green-eyed woman, because he himself had been through really hard times and yet, he always had a smile on his lips and another joke to tell every day. When his health began to deteriorate, he became reliant on his wheelchair, unable to attend to his gardening duties all by himself. Unwilling to give up the rooftop garden and sell it to someone who might just turn it into a rooftop terrace, he had place the ad in the newspaper.

Luckily, the pensioner was able to draw from his savings to pay for his treatments and special care, but with that burden and the rather lousy annuity a gardener gets, money was short nonetheless. Despite his financial status, he insisted to pay Jamie for her help, but she had always declined. His company and the garden had always been more than enough compensation for her. That, and the afternoon tea with shortbread biscuits, of course.

~

“It’s fine Teddy, I’ll get it,” the elderly woman put away her gardening gloves as the doorbell rang. The passionate gardener had spent almost the whole day on the rooftop, nurturing the plants and flowers with care and dedication, as she had been away for almost one week. Utterly absorbed in her work, she hadn’t even noticed that the sun was setting.

“Good evening Madam, trick or treat,” three colourfully dressed up children stood outside the door, gleefully grinning and bursting with excitement.

“Oh hi there, I love your costumes, you’re all exceedingly spooky! Let me see what the secret sweets stash has to offer!” Jamie smiled back at them, rushed into the kitchen, grabbing a handful of chocolate bars and handed each kid a few of them.

At the back of her head, she remembered the radio announcement about Halloween and the occurrence of the rare blue moon this night. If the kids hadn’t turned up in their costumes, she wouldn’t even have recalled that tonight was Halloween. She hardly attributed any importance to holidays like this, always assuming them to be a day like any other, but unbeknownst to her, this Halloween would turn out to be a very special one.

Without the sunlight warming her in the chilly autumn breeze, Jamie decided to lay her work on the rooftop garden down for the day and put on some good night tea for Teddy and herself.

“Ah thank you my dear, you are truly an angel!” Teddy said gratefully, as he took the hot tea mug from her. “You care to join me for a while?” The old man had hoped to be able to spend some time with her because he had noticed that something was especially strange since the moment she entered his apartment this day. Since she had returned from her trip to America for the wedding ceremony, Jamie seemed to be more absent-minded than usual.

“Would you mind if I go outside to the garden? The moon is so pretty tonight and I just want to admire it for a little bit on my own.” With a faint smile she placed her hand on the old man’s shoulder, trying to let him know that he needn’t worry. With a soft nod, he accepted her wish.

The sun had set entirely by now and the clear sky was embellished with its shiny stars already. The full moon tinted the rooftop with all the plants in a pale, silvery light. Despite her brown turtleneck pullover, made from very warm and soft linen, the elderly woman slightly shivered in the cold night air. Nevertheless, she sat down on the iron garden bench, wrapping her elegant, slender fingers tighter around the warm mug. With every sip, the warmth of the tea seemed to spread inside her body, stopping her from freezing any longer. The night was so very calm, and soon, her heavy thoughts, too, appeared to fall silent. Before she knew it, sleep somehow overcame her after a day of hard work and all the mental tension over the past week.

Jamie woke up, trying to figure out where she was for a moment. She didn’t know how long she’d been sleeping there, outside, on the cold iron stand of the garden bench. But somehow, her surroundings appeared to be ghostly silent and the cold night suddenly seemed very mild, more like a summer night really. There wasn’t a noise to hear, not even some distant hustle of traffic, not even the wind playing with the leaves of the plants. The green-eyed woman felt uneasy, odd, somehow dizzy. With one last glance upon the sky to the gorgeous moon in all its glory, she went towards the door leading inside. Suddenly, she was interrupted by a voice. A voice, so obviously real and present, that denying it or blaming it on the wind would have been utterly pointless:

“Jamie...”

She was thunderstruck. It was as if all her body cells, every membrane and every fiber froze to ice. A cold sensation rushed through her body from head to toe, leaving every inch of her electrified. This voice – could it be real? Was it another dream? Suddenly, she heard it again, louder this time, but with the same fragile gentleness.

“Jamie...”

The elderly woman didn’t even dare to turn around, she was literally frozen. A sudden gasp escaped her lungs, when she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. She squinted her eyes, trying to wake up from what she believed to be a dream, but the touch tightened.

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter Twenty - The Toothfairy Isn’t Real

I woke up to his soft lips teasing my ear.

“Are you spending the whole day in bed?” His low morning voice was warm and enticing, pleasantly forcing me out of my slumber.

I felt his body move away, letting the cold morning air seep into the comforter. Moaning, I opened my eyes slightly, barely a slither, trying to see what time it was. It was still early, and the sun was just rising.

“It’s Saturday… Too early for a Saturday.” I complained, moving closer to him, seeking the comfort of his warmth. I sighed in contentment when his strong arms enveloped me.

“If you stay in bed all day, how am I going to show you your surprise?” His mouth was very close to my ear, forming into a mischievous smile. The movement gave me shivers.

“What surprise?” I mumbled, not registering what he had said.

“If I tell you, it won’t be much of a surprise, will it?” Oooo, he was good. Too good for his own good.

Victor was perfectly aware of how I would react to the word ‘surprise’. He chuckled as I practically jumped away from his arms to face him, an excited look on my face.

“What surprise?” I insisted, feeling excited. I was surely in for a treat, and Victor seemed to be in a great mood. My heart jumped with joy.

“Go get ready.” He ordered, getting up, not before softly squeezing my butt. “I’m going to start breakfast.”

I nearly inhaled the pancakes he served me, curious to see what was in store for me. Victor kept a satisfied smirk, slowly sipping his coffee while reading the news on his phone.

As we were about to leave, I took my phone from the table to put it away in my purse. Victor softly held my wrist, a stern look on his face.

“No phone.” He scolded. “No work, no emails, and no emergency calls either. Today is about relaxing.”

“They are called emergency calls for a reason.” I complained, holding my phone tight in my hand. “There may be some issue, and my team will-”

“Will have to figure it out without you.” Despite my protests, Victor took my phone away. “It’s Saturday . Besides, most companies are closed for the weekend. I’m sure the emergency can wait till Monday.”

I reluctantly accepted my fate, not wanting to spoil a day that had started so gloriously. I had to admit Victor was right. The study was taking all of my time, even the time I was supposed to rest, and that was taking its toll on me. It was time to draw the line.

Also, it was so good to see Victor back to his old self. He took some time to recover, and it was sometimes very painful for him, but he had started to work again, surprisingly listening to me and easing into it, instead of jumping right in. He seemed to be pain-free, returning to his morning jog and laps in the pool. He didn’t even limp anymore. It had been a huge surprise to see him take the car keys and drive himself to work one day. I had expected him to hesitate getting inside a car by himself, but no, the mighty CEO would not let a pesky thing like the trauma of being smashed by a truck hold him back in anything.

Victor drove us past the outskirts of the city, towards the lake, leading us to an area I had never been before. It seemed to be a more rural region, devoted mostly to agriculture, judging by the cultivated fields and orchards siding the roads.

“I don’t think I have ever been around these parts before.” I commented, as I watched the view through my window. For some reason, this reminded me of my summers at my grandmother’s house, in the countryside, or our trips to go olive picking in November.

“I did promise to show you Loveland.” Victor replied, taking his trained eyes from the road for a second to give me a loving glance.

“And what is Mr. Lee showing me, exactly?” I softly caressed his neck, trying to pry some information from him. He gulped, trying to keep his cool under my enticing touch.

“I’m driving.” He scolded, blushing slightly. “Don’t be impatient, you’ll know soon enough.”

We left the strawberry fields and the view of the lake far in the distance, and made a turn to the deep forest. After what seemed like a mile of dirt road surrounded by luscious trees, we encountered an iron gate. Victor spoke into the intercom, simply stating it was him, and the gates opened wide, inviting us in. My curiosity grew exponentially.

Victor parked the car in front of this huge countryside mansion, with rustic red rooftops and built with light stones, large windows, as well as a green well-manicured garden that embellished it displayed its opulence. The large wooden front door swung open, and from it emerged, to my surprise,Aunt Terry.

“Andrea! So nice to see you!” She greeted me with a hug as soon as I left the car. “Welcome to my evil lair!” She joked, gaining a chuckle both from me and Victor.

“It’s beautiful! Thanks for having me.” I looked around, dazzled. “Really wonderful.”

“It’s all mine now.” She proudly announced. “Gregory lent me his property to raise my horses, but I finally bought it from him.” She turned to Victor. “Your father didn’t tell you?”

Victor chuckled, shaking his head, like the idea of his father having a decent conversation with him was ridiculous.

“Congratulations. So all of this is yours now?” Victor came close to me, putting his hand on my waist.

“All 500 acres of it. It feels like a dream.” She said, looking around. “Come, Andrea, let me get you something to drink. Also, Victor, Mina is dying to see you.”

“You are going to meet Mina.” Victor gave me a wide smile, seemingly excited with the idea.

“Who is Mina?” I asked, discreetly.

“Only the kindest person I have ever known. Present company excluded, of course.” He leaned his head against mine, and my heart beat hard with anticipation. This was him letting me in, showing me the people he cared about, making me part of his life. This was huge. It was like meeting the parents, minus the heavy confrontation.

“When I was a kid I used to spend the summers with my aunt, especially after my mother died. Mina used to work for my father then, and she would come as well to take care of me. I learned to ride a horse here, and I still come here to ride Onyx from time to time. You’ll meet him as well.”

Victor navigated that large mansion like it was his own home, which made sense in light of the new information he provided me. The house had antique, wooden pillars everywhere, old but elegant furniture. It was extremely bright, though, and had a homey vibe, with lots of light and vases with flowers from the garden in every corner.

We waltzed into the kitchen like it was nothing. We found a petite old lady with short, pure white hair and a friendly face, preparing some ice tea. Her eyes were wide and bright as soon as she heard Victor greet her.

“Hummingbird!” She practically flew to his arms, Victor welcoming her with a loving embrace. “I was so worried when Miss Terry told me you were hurt! I wanted to see you, but I also know you hate having too many people around.” Victor’s eyes watched lovingly as she ranted along. “And you brought… a girlfriend? Who is this lovely lady? Ooo, she’s beautiful!”

Mina smiled widely at me. I couldn’t help but grin like an idiot too. I was yet to say a word to her and I could already tell she was one of those people that just filled the room with love. My heart felt tight in my chest, happy that Victor had people like Mina in his life.

“Mina, this is Andrea.” Victor introduced us, a light in his eyes. “Yes, she’s my girlfriend. Andrea, this is Mina. She is like a mother to me.”

“We did have good moments, didn’t we?” She gave Victor a meaningful look. “Andrea, it’s very nice to meet you. Terry actually already spoke highly of you, told me how loyal and kind you are to our Vicky. I’m delighted to know he has good people in his life.” Her eyes were suddenly sad, and she came closer to Victor, holding his cheek. “He’s been through so much already. He deserves to be happy.”

At that moment, there was this feeling of… companionship between them. Like two soldiers that meet twenty years after the war. There was a silent exchange of sadness, happiness, tenderness, love; moments that solidify a relationship and make the bond unbreakable. It was clear to me that, in some moment of their lives, they were everything for each other. I felt my eyes prickle, just looking at them, communicating silently, an ocean of mute words between them. Victor’s strong young hand held Mina’s wrinkled one in a way that clearly showed that that very same hand was his solace, when his hand was much smaller.

“Anyways!” Mina broke the silence, her voice strained. “Let me finish that ice tea! I will take it to the terrace, go show Andrea around!”

“We have plenty of time, don’t worry. We can wait and take it with us. Did Aunt Terry ask you to prepare the thing?” He was suddenly very cryptic. I was suddenly very curious.

“The thing!” Mina’s eyes opened wide in recognition. “I did, respecting all your careful instructions. I also added some things of my own that you surely would miss.”

“Thanks, Mina. Can I take this now?” Victor pointed to the tray with the jar of iced tea and some glasses.

“Yes, please.” Victor took the tray and we walked outside to the terrace.

Terry was already sitting at the table at the terrace, holding what looked like a photo album. Victor recognized it immediately, a prompt frown on his face.

“Don’t you even think about it.” He warned.

“Oh, come on!” Terry complained. “Who do I have to show these to?”

“What are they?” I asked. Could it be baby pictures? It looked like baby pictures.

“Nothing.” Victor rushed to answer.

“Baby pictures.” Terry answered at the same time.

I practically flew to sit by her side, excited.

“I gotta see that.” I smiled widely, noticing Victor’s blush.

It turns out, Victor was a lovely baby. I saw his pictures since he was just a newborn, laying in his mother’s arms, until his teenage years, a mess of pimples and puberty and braces. Apparently we all go through the same things, tomboy Portuguese girls and proud CEOs in the making alike.

“Your mother was beautiful.” I commented, looking at her, a soft smile on her face, holding a wide smiling toddler, practically covered in melted ice-cream. Victor looked a lot like his father, but the softness he had in his expression sometimes was clearly from his mother.

“And look how chubby Victor was!” Terry cooed, making Victor blush even more. “Look at these dimples! These fatty little legs! Can’t you just eat them?”

I stifled a laugh, looking at my boyfriend lowering his head, agonizing with embarrassment.

“Why are we doing this?” Victor complained, his voice dripping with frustration. “There is no point in this. I was a baby, I’m not a baby anymore. End of story.”

“Of course there is a point! At least Andrea will know what to expect, should you someday have some little Victors running around the house!”

I think she was expecting me to laugh, or respond some other way, because her eyes went wide with mortification when I didn’t. I tried to look as neutral as possible, but I guess the sadness I felt couldn’t be concealed. I could not have little Victors running around the house. That weighed on me like a ton of bricks.

“Oh my, talk about sticking my foot in my mouth!” She exclaimed, holding my hands. “That was totally out of line, you are not even married yet, and here I am, jumping the gun! I am sorry, Andrea, please don’t read into what I said, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

I tried to smile as honestly as I could.

“It’s ok, Terry, you were joking, I got it.” I excused her. It was evident she had no intention of hurting me, she didn’t even know. “I’m not offended.”

“Well, I should leave anyway, I have to meet a client in a few minutes. I’ll leave the album here, keep up the good work and keep making Victor blush, ok?”

I chuckled, trying to look upbeat. Apparently satisfied to see me laugh again, Terry left. Victor didn’t buy it though. He sat closer to me, holding me against him, lowering his head to meet my eyes.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a soft hushed voice.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” I downplayed it.

“Let me show you something.” He grabbed the photo album and skimmed the pages, stopping when he found his picture by the Christmas tree, smiling widely, missing his two top front teeth.

“Awww, toothless Vicky. Very cute.” I gave him a week smile, trying to lift myself from my funk.

“This picture has a very embarrassing story. Do you want to hear it?” He lifted my chip with his finger, smiling at me.

“Are you willing to share it?” I frowned. That was some unusual show of goodwill.

“I want to see you smile. I will do whatever it takes to have it, even make a fool of myself.” He smiled softly at me.

If Victor wanted me not to cry, he did a terrible job. My eyes teared up immediately, not for sadness, but because my heart felt so much love it had to spill some out.

“Ok, back to the story.” Victor cleared his throat. “It was Christmas Eve, and Mina was making saltwater taffy. My mother and I loved it, but we would only have it on special occasions, like Christmas.” He paused, making sure I was listening carefully. “I was seven at the time, and I was just dying to get my hands on that taffy. I watched Mina as she cooked the taffy and let it cool slightly so she could stretch it. My father called her for some reason, and I saw my opportunity.”

“You stole the taffy?” I smiled. I pictured little Victor, running around the kitchen, excited for candy. Funny how we let preconceptions limit us so much when it comes to knowing people. It was hard to imagine the dictatorial man Victor showed himself to be had been a mischievous child too.

“I bit a big chunk out of it and got out of there as fast as I could, so I wouldn’t be caught.” He smiled at me, seemingly proud of his cunning achievement. “It was only later, playing by myself in my room, that I noticed something different about me. My two upper central incisors were missing. They fell out and I swallowed them with the taffy.”

“I swallowed one of mine while eating an apple.” I offered. “But I don’t see how that is embarrassing.”

“I was really concerned because I had two teeth that fell  out, which meant the tooth fairy would come and give me two gifts. But in this case, I had no teeth to give back. See my predicament?”

“The tooth fairy wouldn’t come.” I concluded, dramatically. To a seven-year-old, this was obviously a reason for distress.

“I spent all afternoon checking my… You know.” Victor blushed slightly. “I felt like the universe was punishing me for eating the taffy without permission. Losing my teeth and my gifts seemed like some sort of sentence for my misbehavior.”

“Poor baby…” I laughed, running my fingers through his bangs.

“It’s not over yet. Before dinner, my mother called me. Asked me if I had been eating taffy before it was done. I was riddled with guilt, so I started crying, and told her everything I had done, and how I was already being punished for being disobedient, since the tooth fairy wouldn’t come. My mother broke in laughter. She was tearing up.”

“She laughed?” I laughed too.

“Turns out I hadn’t swallowed my teeth. I left them in the taffy. That’s how Mina and my mother figured out I was the taffy thief.” As Victor told his story, I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. “And apparently they didn’t tell me right away because they couldn’t stop laughing. I wanted to be mad at them for letting me feel so bad for so long, but I was actually exhilarated. I would be visited by Santa and the tooth fairy on the same night. That was quite a feat.”

“So the tooth fairy came?” I could barely catch a breath to ask.

“The tooth fairy came." Victor nodded. "Guess what she left me.”

“What?” I stifled a laugh in anticipation. It had to be good.

“A whole batch of taffy. It didn’t take long for me to figure the tooth fairy wasn’t real.”

I burst out laughing again, Victor joining me. That was probably the best childhood story I had ever heard. After a few minutes the laughter subsided, and I watched as Victor smiled, lost in thought.

“My mother was an incredibly insightful woman, well versed in so many aspects. She had this joy for life, this incredible sense of humor. She wouldn’t miss a pun; she would turn anything into a joke. She was like the sun; everywhere she went, it became brighter. She lived like her mission in this world was to love and laugh and make sure everyone around her loved and laughed too.”

Part of me wondered how Victor’s mother ended up with someone like Greg. But they had gone through so much in their lives, maybe he had been a bright and happy person too. Maybe with the sun missing, all Victor’s father had left was the clouds. I suddenly felt a wave of affection and sympathy towards that seemingly hard man. It is hard to lose someone you love, someone you chose to build a life with. Victor turned to me, a loving light in his eyes.

“You know, I thought my mother was one of a kind, but I was wrong. You are so much like her.”

My eyes started to water for the millionth time that day. I hugged him tight.

“Victor…” My voice quivered. I loved that man so much. There were no words to explain what I felt.

“You are my sun.” He softly whispered in my ear. “I love you, Andrea. That’s all that matters to me. Don’t think about what you can’t do. You already do so much. You light up my life.”

[silverfootstepswrites]

Amaryllis | Chapter 3

< Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 >

+++

Sasori’s days at home were some of his favorites. They were always busy. But that was how he preferred them.

He had heard people call his home the Floating Palace. But everyone who lived on the island called it the Sami Palace. The palace that lived in the ocean current. It was named so because of the system of platforms that kept it raised out of the seawater. The wooden walkways that connected each part of the palace were bleached white by the sun and sand. There were also small boats tied to the walkways that could be used to move between rooms more quickly.

But as someone who was born and raised on the island, Sasori knew that swimming was usually the best option. As long as there were no guests to be seen right after.

He dove off the terrace, directly into the ocean. The water was a little cool in the morning. But he knew that once he was under, his body would adjust. He made it to the kitchens in no time at all. As he pulled himself up onto the walkway, he felt arms and hands pulling him to his feet. There was laughter and the sounds of knives against wooden cutting boards.

“Good morning,” he greeted them, swiping water out of his eyes.

One of the servants tossed a towel over his shoulders.

“Good morning! Have you eaten yet, My Lord?” someone asked. A pair of hands grabbed his and pulled him into the kitchens. The room was bustling with chefs and servants beginning the day’s preparations. The fires were already roaring. He sat on a stool with one of the ovens to his back. It warmed him and dried his clothes as he enjoyed his breakfast. As he ate a roasted sweet potato, his eyes drifted around the room. He could smell bread cooking. The dough was stuck to the inside of the oven, which made it crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. There were fruits that the younger servants sat washing and peeling.

“A whole pig? Are we having a party?” Sasori wondered. It looked to be a fresh kill. It hung from a hook in the corner of the kitchen to let the blood drain into the ocean. Fish gathered around the waters there, drawn by the smell. Whatever pieces the chef discarded into the water would be a feast for them later.

“Ah, no, My Lord. Count Maito sent it over. For Lord Gaara to keep his stamina up,” one of the older women said. She lifted a basket filled with dirty towels and lugged it out of the room.

Sasori lingered for a little while longer to finish his tea. And then he went to meet with his younger cousin to provide the usual counsel. Gaara was just finishing his breakfast as well when Sasori found him. He sat alone at a low table. White water lilies crowded the waters around the room. They had been a gift, bred specifically to thrive in the saltwater. Sakura loved this room. It made sense that Gaara would be there.

“What’s wrong with your wrist?” Sasori demanded. He noticed Gaara holding his teacup in his left hand instead of his right. His left hand sat soaking in the cool ocean water. Like he was trying to soothe it.

“Good morning, Cousin,” answered Gaara. He ignored the question.

Sasori loomed over him. Arms folding across his chest. After a long moment, he shook his head.

“We should get started. People are waiting already,” Sasori said.

Sakura had named Gaara as her proxy. As the acting Duke of Plumeria, Gaara had many responsibilities. In essence, he ran the island. And one of those duties involved listening to the citizens. In the mornings, the people lined up to seek audience over problems both small and large. Sasori stood at Gaara’s side, occasionally leaning over to whisper suggestions. Or explaining something whenever Gaara had a question.

It didn’t bother Sasori that Sakura had chosen Gaara over him. She had very clearly explained to him why.

“A title is a chain. Not an honor. Why would I bind one of my own arms?” she had laughed.

Lunch was served. Fish wrapped in leaves and grilled over hot coals. Fresh fruit glistening with juices. Sasori’s mother joined them for the meal.

“Has she written?” Kurenai questioned. She pushed her dark curls out of her eyes.

“Soon. I have a good feeling,” Sasori replied. He made a vague gesture with his hand. Kurenai pursed her lips. Shaking her head, she smiled.

“I don’t know how you two do that. It’s like you can read each other’s minds. Ever since you were little,” she remarked. She reached out to tussle Sasori’s hair. He shrugged as he took another bite of his food.

In the afternoon, Sasori headed down to the city to check in with the merchants. Some of them came to him with their troubles. He made an effort to help them as best as he could.

At sunset, Sasori rode his horse around the southern tip of the island. The sandy beaches were always beautiful and he regretted not spending more time on them. Shells crunched underfoot and the strong smell of the briny water filled his nose. The night fishermen were just getting ready to go diving. Sasori greeted them, as usual, and chatted about the weather. Any new gossip.

Once he returned to the palace, it was time for a dip in the royal bathhouse. The giant room had a sunken floor made of marble. A statue of a woman pouring out of a vase stood at the end of the bath where fresh water gushed into the pool. One of the servants had once tried to explain the mechanics of the water delivery. But Sasori had quickly grown bored and stopped him.

“Keep your secrets. It’s because people like me don’t know how to do your job that we need you,” Sasori said, waving him off.

At dinner, he and Gaara compared notes about the day. Sometimes their conversation wandered to other matters. Family. Maybe politics. But Gaara was understandably exhausted after a long day. They parted ways soon after.

Sasori moved from the dining room in the center of the palace, heading down the walkway that moved toward the north of the palace. There was a three-way split in the path. The one straight ahead led to the servants' quarters’. They were contained in a series of white buildings that sat close to the enormous kitchen. The one to the left was the path leading to the royal apartments. The path to the right housed other rooms, usually used as meeting places or accommodations for visitors.

Though most of the palace floated in the water, the back of the palace grounds extended onto the edge of a grassy slab of land. It was here in the back that the kitchen and its heavy stone ovens sat. It was busy, even this late at night, as the servants finally enjoyed their supper and finally took a moment to put their sore feet up. They sat around the ovens, laughing over their plates in the flickering light.

Thick, dark vines with light purple flowers climbed up the tall white walls surrounding the palace. Plumeria trees twisted up out of the ground, reaching toward the moon with waxy leaves. The clusters of white flowers with creamy yellow centers released sweet perfume into the air. Sakura loved the fragrance. She had the servants scatter the petals into her bath in the morning. The smell clung to her hair and her clothes during the warmer months when the flowers were in full bloom.

In the heart of the royal apartments was Sakura’s residence. It was a two-story building with the same white walls and open arches for windows as the rest of palace. The terrace in front overlooked the glimmering ocean waters. Bushes of rugosa roses decorated the sides of the building. The dark pink flowers spread toward the sun, unbothered by the salty spray from the ocean waters.

Despite the fact that Sakura was gone from the palace for about half year, the guards reported for their shifts each day. The maids flitted in and out to clean. They brought in vases of fresh flowers. They changed the sheets and the curtains.

Sasori paused on the walkway. He stared at the building, missing the golden glow of her window at night. Missed the way that he used to catch her hanging out the window, laughing as Shizune scolded her to be careful.

With a sigh, Sasori continued down the path, passing more of the royal apartments.

There was a lavish building edged by orange tiger lilies. That was his mother’s residence. Had been since she had come of age. And it was where he had lived with her throughout his childhood. He could see lights on in the windows there. She always went to bed late.

Beside it was the biggest apartment in the palace. It had once belonged to his Aunt and Uncle, who had long since passed on. But Sakura had never decided what to do with that place, and no one pressed her. The building still held all of the Late King and Queen’s clothes and furniture. Waiting for owners who would never return.

Deeper in the palace, he finally reached his own apartment. The guards on duty bowed when he walked past them. He unbuckled his sw ord and tossed it onto the nearest seat as he walked past. One of his personal attendants greeted him at the door. Hands folded across his stomach, he handed Sasori a letter.

Sasori flipped it over to find a red wax seal stamped with a familiar insignia. It was a desert rose- the symbol of the Haruno family.

Dear Sasori,

Summer in Ispolin has been pleasant so far. The market seems a sad affair compared to what we have at home. Nevertheless, the Uchiha’s been more than gracious in their attempts to make me comfortable. And Goliaf Castle, while a touch damp for my liking, is a charming place to explore.

Prince Sasuke has proved a fine companion. You would appreciate his sense of humor, I think. I find that he reminds me of you in some ways.

Sasori’s smile dropped. Before he could scowl, he read on a few lines.

I will remind you that you are, however, still my most trusted confidante. Blood closer than blood. I do all this so that you will see reason when I ask that you not barge into a landlocked city with the Royal Fleet.

Sasori cleared his throat. Suddenly embarrassed. He glanced around, like Sakura would be standing there with a knowing look on her face. His mother was right. They knew each other too well.

His Majesty is throwing a small party to welcome myself and Prince Naruto. Apparently this is a kingdom fond of festivities. There is also the Summer Festival right after, so celebrate the Summer Solstice. It’s said to span an entire week. I’ve been told to look forward to the street performers, especially. It will take a lot to impress me, especially given the sorts of performances I see in court every day.

Sasori snorted. He would have used less polite wording there, but he had to agree.

The King has invited me to stay for the rest of the season at court. A great honor, I’m aware. I’ve arranged for a gift to arrive in time for your mother’s birthday. Please help me keep it a secret. I will send my apologies to her in a separate message.

Despite this excitement, I find myself wondering about the state of home. Have the plumeria bloomed yet? Has someone reminded the servants not to trim too many of the thorns on my roses? I worry about things, knowing that I’ve left things in the best possible hands. And it’s not as if this is the first time I’ve been away. At what point, I wonder, are adults supposed to outgrow homesickness?

Sakura

Sasori read the letter a second time. When he looked up, the attendant was still standing there. Only now, he was holding paper in his hands.

“Would you like to pen your response now or later, My Lord?” he queried.

Sasori stared at the crisp paper in his hands. He folded it along the creases and then tucked it inside his tunic.

“Later,” he decided.

“Very well, My Lord.”

+++

"A fine damask on silk, My Lady. We call this shade cornflower."

Sakura looked over the rim of her teacup. The tailor held out the light blue fabric for her to examine. Sasuke let out a loud sigh. He leaned his elbow on the armrest.

"I don't understand why I'm here. Shouldn't one of your fluttering little… servants… be helping you with this?" he complained from the armchair beside her. To accentuate his point, he picked up a lacy white fan trimmed with white feathers on the edges. He flicked it open and made fluttering gestures with it.

The Queen had sent over her personal tailor, which Sakura was aware was a huge honor. He had already stopped by once before to take her measurements. And while he seemed competent enough, the selection of gowns he had brought for her approval was underwhelming, to say the least.

“I need the eyes of someone who knows the rules of this court. Servants are good, but the actual attendees are better,” Sakura replied. And then she ran her finger down the supposed silk. Her nose wrinkled.

“Silk, indeed,” she muttered. While the cloth was technically silk, it was nowhere close to the grade of the fabric her island exported. She was aware that there were those who had imported silkworms from the east to try to weave their own textiles. But everything from what the worms were fed to how the threads were harvested was kept a secret. To her knowledge, there was no one on this continent who had come close to producing silk of a comparable quality. They had attempted to mask the poor quality by dyeing it blue. But to someone like her, the roughness of the fabric stood out.

The tailor looked horrified. He made angry sweeps of his hands until one of the waiting servants dragged the gown away, out of sight.

“Perhaps this will be more to your liking,” the tailor then attempted. He gestured to the next gown. It was bright red. Like a young girl’s blushing cheek.

Sakura eyed the waist, which tapered to her a point.

“Are these not tailored to my size? I recall having organs in this area of my body,” Sakura said. She pointed to the waist, which tapered to an uncomfortable point. The tailor wrung his hands.

“This is all the rage, General. I assure you, you would be the most fashionable lady at this event.” He almost sounded like he was pleading. Sakura was aware that the man was under immense pressure. She was certain that the Queen would want to hear that her guest had been taken care of.

“I don’t like that color. That’s the color of my Uncle Obito’s face when he drinks too much,” Sasuke commented, giving another wave of the fan. He waved it in his face and promptly sneezed as the feathers tickled his nose. Sakura held her hand out for it. Sasuke relinquished it without protest. He sniffled a little.

“The green one,” Sakura then said, pointing with the fan.

It was the least garish of the dresses. The waist was still a bit narrow. It would require a corset, which she didn’t exactly love. But at least the corset would give her an extra place to hide a weapon. The lace and gold detailing were evidently what was in style in this country. She had seen similar accents on the Queen’s gowns during the times they had dined together. It wasn’t exactly ugly. Just not what she would have personally chosen.

“Shoes?” Sakura prompted.

The tailor and the servants pulled a dizzying array of shoes from the trunk sitting in the corner. Sakura chose the ones that seemed the least painful. Which wasn’t saying much. She didn’t understand why men and women alike subjected themselves to all these glittering things that weren’t even comfortable. Or practical.

“I beg your pardon, General, but this fan would suit your gown better,” the tailor then suggested, holding up another fan. The complex pattern of emerald and gold looked suspiciously like they had been custom made for the dress.

They shooed Sasuke out of the room for a final fitting of the dress. The tailor left about half an hour later, bowing and thanking her profusely. He mopped at his forehead and neck with a lacy handkerchief as he hurried out. He stopped to bow to Sasuke, too.

As Sasuke peered back into the room, he caught Sakura running her fingers along one of the dresses. The servants were busy packing up the rest of the garments. But this one was the last to go.

“This beadwork is lovely,” she mused to herself.

“Do you actually like fashion?” Sasuke demanded.

“Is that a crime? You sound scandalized,” she answered without looking up at him.

“But why? You hate being called a princess so much that you insist upon being 'General' wherever you go.”

Sakura pinned him with a look. She pulled her fingers away from the dress. The servants, who had been waiting, bowed before they began packing up the final dress.

“Tell me, Prince. Which title holds more authority: General or Princess?”

Sasuke scoffed. “Princess, of course. The daughter of a monarch holds much more power than a General.”

“Really?”

Sasuke nodded.

“Then tell me this. A princess declares war. A general declares war. Which declaration are you more likely to follow?” Sakura challenged.

That made Sasuke hesitate. He tilted his head a little. “Well, the General should be an expert on warfare. But the Princess still has more power,” he thought out loud.

Smiling, Sakura shook her head. “Power is not about who is next in line to the throne. It’s about how easily others bend to your will. A General inspires obedience. Loyalty. A Princess inspires wedding proposals,” she insisted.

“So you’re wearing the title that will give you the most power,” Sasuke guessed.

Sakura touched her fingers to her temple. Smiled. “Perhaps.”

+++

Over the next couple weeks, the palace bustled with activity. Whether it was women draping bunting over windows or burly men hauling in casks of wine, there seemed to always be people flitting in and out of the doors. They draped the castle in colorful fabrics. Filled the air with chatter. Sakura enjoyed it. It reminded her of home.

Sasuke had been put in charge of overseeing the decorations. It was a great honor, according to him. But his face said otherwise.

He stumbled into lunch looking pale and exhausted. And the first thing out of his mouth was an apology.

“I’ve been a negligent host. I’m sorry,” he confessed.

Sakura stabbed her fork into her egg. The yolk burst. A river of gold flooded her plate. And then she cast a sidelong look at Sasuke’s haggard expression. She made eye contact with Haku and mimed lifting a glass to her mouth. Haku whispered to another servant, swept forward with a decanter of wine. He filled Sasuke’s glass to the brim.

“Drink. Your awful face is ruining my appetite,” she sighed.

Sasuke didn’t even have energy to retort. He took a long gulp of the wine. And then another.

“Besides,” Sakura added, her tone teasing now. “You’re overestimating your impact on my life. I won’t die without a few days of you, Prince.” Lifting her glass, she held it up to the sunlight. She watched the light slant through the clear sides, sending white shapes spilling across the wooden tabletop.

Sasuke choked on his third sip of wine. His eyes bugged out. The lock of utter shock pulled a laugh from Sakura. Sasuke’s eyes narrowed as he finally realized that Sakura was making fun of him.

“You’re… mean,” he settled on the childish word.

“And you’re eloquent,” Sakura laughed.

Sasuke seemed to liven up once he ate a little. He griped a little about all of his responsibilities. But then his worries turned to her.

“You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll have my cousin escort you instead.”

“I’m fine,” Sakura insisted a second time. The edge to her voice that she hadn’t meant to let slip.

It wasn’t long before people with lists and questions came to whisk him away. He hadn’t even managed to finish half his meal.

The truth was that Sakura liked being on her own. Sasuke was a good companion. The fact that they shared a dry sense of humor really made things so much more fun. But the people in the castle were also very accommodating once they knew who she was.

The stablehands shouted greetings to her as they saw her silhouette in the morning. And she repaid their kindness to Kaze with rounds of drinks at the tavern. There were a small set of barracks in the castle that housed its guards. On days when she felt restless, she would slip into their facilities and engage in a spar or too. The soldiers here relied on short swords rather than spears. It was a nice challenge to try to figure out how to dodge their fast jabs.

Sometimes, when she didn’t really feel like talking to anyone, she would sit and watch the business of the castle. There were so many secret passages and unexpected doors. She had stumbled onto a small set of stairs when she had leaned against section of wall one day. It led to a small landing that overlooked the foyer and the spiraling grand staircase. It was the perfect place to just sit and watch people run around like little dolls.

On her second day relaxing there, she heard the door creak open. Itachi stood there. Frozen halfway through the doorway.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other. Sakura’s eyes drifted to the book tucked against his side.

“My apologies, Your Highness. I seem to have intruded on another of your personal spaces,” Sakura said, getting to her feet.

But when she moved to the door, Itachi stared at her. He didn’t move. In fact, his hand gripped the doorknob, arm tensing. Sakura rolled her weight back onto one leg. She could wait for whatever he had to say.

“Please, don’t leave. I….” Itachi’s hand tightened. He leaned against the door a little. And it struck Sakura how thin those wrists were. She suddenly felt a little guilty.

“Can I have a moment? I didn’t think I’d see you so soon. I had… so much I wanted to say,” Itachi requested.

Sakura blinked a few times. And then she offered her hand to him.

“Why don’t you have a seat? I can’t have you collapsing on me,” Sakura offered.

He hesitated for a long moment before he took her hand. She helped him sit on the landing before she settled on the floor too. Sakura leaned back on her hands as she waited for him to find the words. A ray of sunlight angled in just right through the windows, illuminating her strip of floor. She closed her eyes, taking in the warmth.

“I have to be honest. I’m not completely certain what I said to upset you the other day, General. I was speaking to try to put you at ease.”

Sakura opened her eyes. She stared straight ahead, already disappointed.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I did say something to upset you. I deeply apologize.”

Her head swiveled toward him. He sat with the book in his lap. It was only then that she realized that it was a book about the Forest Kingdom. He shifted his hands to cover the title.

“Your family is awfully concerned about titles,” she finally said in response. A smile touched her lips.

She heard a noise and her eyes found the source. Several servant girls ran in with baskets of clean laundry. They laughed and complained, wringing out their skirts and hair. It had just begun to drizzle outside. They must have rescued the hanging linens. The clatter of their polished shoes echoed as they made their way down the hall.

“Do you know the reason why I’m sitting here with you and not on a throne?” Sakura then queried.

The pages of the book rustled as Itachi opened it up. She could see that he had left page markers here and there. He had obviously been studying carefully since the last time she had seen him.

“Yes. I recall that it was because your uncle has been serving as your Regent,” Itachi read. He then looked up to add: “Although I’m unsure of why he’s still there when you’ve come of age already and the war is over.”

Sakura raised her eyebrows. “Propaganda. I’m sure Marquess Shimura or Duke Hyuuga were responsible for printing such nonsense,” she scoffed.

“Propaganda?” Itachi repeated.

“The real story is that my uncle and his supporters have rendered me politically impotent outside of my own territories. You have a better chance of ascending that throne than I do, Your Highness,” Sakura explained.

From Sakura’s experience, she knew that nobles did not like to be corrected. And the more powerful, the more they disliked being told they were wrong. So she expected some sort of retort. This was a prince, after all.

Instead, Itachi tilted his head. His eyes wandered as he seemed to take that all in.

“So the story of the uncle who adopted his orphaned niece as his own…” mused Itachi.

“Utter garbage,” Sakura finished for him.

“And the story of that orphaned niece who beheaded King Orochimaru in one fell swoop?”

“Garbage,” Sakura confirmed for him. And then she cracked a smile. “It wasn’t that neat. Although his head did eventually leave his shoulders.”

Itachi thought. And then he asked, “Is it alright for you to be discussing something like this with me?”

Sakura waved a hand in a careless gesture. “What’s the worst that can happen? They’ll keep me from my throne?”

Itachi chuckled. He stroked the fine leather cover of his book. His long fingers traced the gold lettering. And when he stopped laughing, he was staring down at his lap. Like something very heavy kept him from raising his head again.

“General?”

Sakura watched him. Saw the way his eyes darted very quickly to her and then away. “Yes, Your Highness,” she replied.

“Will you come to the library again? There are some treatises that I think might interest you.”

Sakura regarded him for a moment before she turned away to hide her smile.

“Yes. For the treatises,” she answered.

They hadn’t made any real plans, but they met up in the library the following day. When Itachi entered the room, looking guilty for some reason, he found her sitting by the window.

“This book is wildly inaccurate. My grandmother was 16, not 12 when she was married,” Sakura remarked without looking up at him.

And then the following day, when he showed up at the library, she held up a book with a dark brown cover. The History of the Warring Nations misspells your family’s name. Twice,” she informed him.

“Perhaps you should have been a scribe and not a soldier,” sighed Itachi.

On the third day, Sakura walked into the library. She glanced around the large room. Wondering what type of books she would peruse that day.

But on the second floor, she spotted a familiar face. Itachi leaned over the railing, a book held casually against his right shoulder.

“The Fell Sword claims that my great grand-father, not my great grand-uncle assassinated his father. This one’s an import from your country, I believe,” he announced, looking a little smug.

Sakura’s smile faded as she heard something. Her head swiveled toward the window. Her hand slid down her thigh. Closing around the hilt of her dagger as she made her way to where she had heard the sound. She could see Itachi leaning farther to watch her as she moved.

The window was just a little ajar. Almost closed. But just open enough that something could slip through the crack and force the lock open. Her eyes narrowed. She pulled the handle and closed the window all the way.

When she turned back to Itachi, she was smiling again.

“I might need to have a word with someone about security,” she remarked.

“I would hope not. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to our honored guest,” Itachi answered.

“Guests. Prince Naruto is here as well,” Sakura corrected him. Itachi opened his book. He laid it flat against the bannister and began flipping carelessly through the pages. Charts and drawings blurred past. Sakura wasn't certain but it looked like a scientific text.

"This is true. But I have yet to acquaint myself with young Prince Naruto. It slipped my mind,” replied Itachi.

"Young?" Sakura repeated back to him. She was certain that Itachi was no more than a few years older than her. He shut his book.

"Ah, my apologies. If I remember correctly, you were both born in the same year. It's just that, from the stories, he seems like a child compared to you," explained Itachi.

Sakura swallowed quickly. She was well aware of this fact. But, determined to keep the mood light, she laughed the comment off.

"Prince Naruto leads a much more carefree life. I think all my worrying ages me," she responded with a tinge of humor. Itachi's expression did not lighten, however. He glanced over at her. His eyes were deep brown, sort of like the color of dark chocolate. The eyelashes framing them were long and thick.

“Worrying so much can’t be good for your health, General,” he stated. It wasn’t a threat; just a fact. She was learning that he was quite blunt with his words. It was nice not to have to dig through layers of hidden meanings when she spoke to him.

“I’d rather worry myself to death than die an old fool,” she countered.

She thought she saw something sparkle in Itachi’s gaze when she said that.

These last few days, Sakura had learned a lot. Not just about the literature of the castle, but about Itachi himself.

He had been sickly since childhood. His illness came in waves. Too much exertion made it difficult for him to breathe. He hadn’t left the castle in many years.

“I’m going to read every book in this library. Books allow one to live a thousand lives and travel a thousand times. Since my health does not permit much wandering, I must supplement myself,” he said.

"If it's any comfort, travel can only educate those smart enough to learn," responded Sakura. A smile brightened Itachi's face.

“You’re funny, General. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Some of the days they met, Itachi had a servant smuggle in tea and refreshments. They were careful not to get the buttery crumbs near any of the crisp pages of the books. And it was even easier to talk over good food. Despite his poor health, Itachi was a deep well of knowledge, mostly likely due to his obsession with reading. They mused over science and history. They bickered over philosophy and law. Sakura liked how he opposed her, unflinching. If this were a duel, his blows would have matched hers in perfect rhythm.

Sakura usually had lunch with Naruto. Both to avoid rumors from spreading in the castle and back home of her snubbing her cousin. Sakura could only manage to come up with so many reasons to evade eating with him before she began to sound childish. She didn't have much to say to him. Their meals were seldom awkward, however, because Naruto seemed to make up for her silence by speaking nonstop until she began to honestly wonder how he found time to breathe.

"You seem to hate Prince Naruto. Why put up with him at all? Why not tell him that you despise him and never see his face again?" suggested Sasuke one night as they walked in the gardens. He had managed to escape from all the madness of planning for a little while. Every few feet along the path were lanterns hanging from skinny wooden posts. Lines of ivy crawled up them, like they were hungrily pursuing the light. Fireflies buzzed lazily around them. The chirp of crickets answered him for a while as Sakura gathered her words.

"Believe it or not, I don't actually hate him," Sakura admitted while staring down at her feet. She heard Sasuke miss a step in the dark. She pretended not to see him stumble.

"What?" Sasuke demanded. His surprise robbed him of his usual manners. Sakura didn’t point it out. She didn’t really mind. And she didn’t really want to explain. Not at the moment. So she left Sasuke to brew in his own thoughts for a while before he spoke again.

"Well, I suppose I'm in no position to comment on your family. I’m sure you know that I have a brother by now,” Sasuke sighed.

“I’ve met him. He’s almost as entertaining as you,” she replied.

Sasuke snorted quietly. Shook his head in the darkness.

“He’s sickly. Doesn’t like company. I can’t remember the last time I’ve spoken to him,” he went on.

Sakura frowned. Itachi didn’t particularly strike her as someone who disliked people. If anything, he seemed excited to have someone to speak to. She made note of that somewhere in her head.

“Do you hate your brother?” Sakura asked.

Sasuke put his hands in the pockets of his trousers. They stopped on the path to stare up at the sweeping white path of stars in the sky above.

Sasuke let out a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he decided after much thought. “Because I don’t know him.”

They stood there for a little while longer. And then Sakura said: “Families are difficult.”

“Yes,” Sasuke agreed. He flinched when a little prick of light buzzed by his nose. He swatted the insect away. As it flew over to her, Sakura stood very still. Just like her mother had taught her. Holding her breath, she reached out and cupped her hands around one of the insects. There was a long moment before the faint green glow leaked out between her cupped palms.

"When I was a little girl, my mother and I would catch a dozen of these and put them in glass bottles. I used to call them starbugs," she suddenly recalled.

Sasuke opened up his hands, waiting for one of the bugs to come to him, too.

“You’ve spoken about your Father. Not much about your Mother. Were you close?” he queried.

“Mother ascended the throne before I was born, but I stayed in Plumeria with my father until I turned six. When he had to return to the capital, he brought me with him,” Sakura recalled.

“Wasn’t it difficult to be away from your mother for so long?” wondered Sasuke.

A faint smile touched Sakura’s lips. “She wasn’t just my mother. She was everyone’s queen. It would been selfish to ask her to only be mine,” she stated.

Sakura opened her hands and let them fall to her sides. The baffled insect seemed not to understand its freedom for a few extra seconds before it flew off. Sasuke stood with his back to the lantern, hands in his back pockets. His left foot scuffed at the ground once. The look on his face was difficult to name. His forehead wrinkled.

“What is it?” asked Sakura.

Sasuke opened his mouth. Closed it. He looked around before he quickly inquired, "Did you call them starbugs because they looked like stars?” A little startled by the question, Sakura took a moment to process. Then she shook her head.

"I thought that they were stars that fell and became trapped here," she admitted. There was a solemnity that settled between them as they fell silent again. After a while, they headed back inside, Sasuke slapping at his mosquito bites, and Sakura casting one last glance up at the star-filled sky.

+++

Sakura woke the morning of the summer solstice to the smells of baking bread. Startled by the sweet fragrance, she bolted upright. The cool kiss of the summer morning touched her bare feet and cheeks. Turning her head toward the source of the breeze, she realized that she had fallen asleep with the window open. Goosebumps rose on her arms as another cool burst of air intruded. She reached out until she could feel the cord hanging beside her head and gave it a couple tugs. She had been told by Haku that the cord was connected to a vast network of other cords in the walls of the castle. If she pulled it, it set off a trigger of other things that rang a bell in the servants' quarters.

It only took a few minutes for Moegi and Haku to come up with her breakfast on a large silver tray. The smell of steamed sausage made her cringe. It had been weeks of nothing but pork and beef and she was starting to crave anything else.

"Good morning, General. You're up a little later than usual," Moegi chiruped sweetly as she set the tray down on the foot of the bed. Haku moved around to open up the curtains all the way and shut the window. Sakura simply nodded while raking her hands through her hair.

"Will you be going for your ride?" Haku questioned as he poured her a cup of tea and handed it to her. Sakura nodded again as she pushed the covers off her legs. Not even looking at what she was eating, she scooped some into her mouth before climbing off the bed. She swallowed down more tea as she glanced out the window. It looked like a fair day.

Moegi pulled a clean and pressed blouse from the wardrobe. On the other side of the room, Haku sorted and polished her cufflinks. Sakura stole a glance at Haku. With his starched dress and apron and long hair, it was impossible to tell that he was actually a boy. She suspected that Moegi had no idea of her partner’s true identity. And if Haku hadn’t revealed it himself, Sakura didn’t see any need to either.

“Haku,” Sakura called.

“Yes, General?”

“I need you to send a message to Prince Naruto. Please remind him to pin his amulet to the left side of his shirt and not the right. I know he’s going to get confused,” she instructed.

“Right away, General,” Haku said. Their eyes met as he hurried out. And from the small smile, Sakura wondered whether he realized what she was doing.

Moegi’s chatter was more than enough to fill up the room as she helped her dress.

“The ballroom is wonderful, General. You’re going to love it,” she gushed as she buttoned up Sakura’s shirt. Sakura nodded and interjected in the right places as Moegi went on. She buttoned her gloves at her wrists and pulled on her boots. They had already been cleaned and polished the night before. The odor of the shoe polish lingered on the soft leather. Moegi handed over her riding helmet.

"General, please don't forget that the opening ceremonies begin at noon. Please don't be late," Moegi called after her. There was a brief pause as Sakura drew in a steadying breath. Then, hand on the doorframe, she turned her head to offer the servant a smile.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Have my tea ready for when I get back," answered Sakura.

She went galloping down the path by herself. Kaze seemed to sense her frustration. He bolted into thick patches of trees and proudly tossed his head. That made her laugh with her mouth opened wide to taste the clean air. By the time she returned to her room to wash and dress, her mood had improved somewhat.

The King made his speech in the main square of Ispolin. He spoke on top of a raised platform made of wood and hung with colorful banners. The Queen stood at his side. Sasuke, Sakura, and Naruto stood a little ways behind him. Hands folded in front of them as they listened to his message of thanks for a peaceful summer. She was in her starched white uniform- which despite the stiffness, felt comfortable. She always felt a little naked without it on.

“I’m going to be honest with you. Your boots are too polished,” Sasuke whispered. The King moved on to talk about his hopes for another plentiful harvest. And something about hope.

“I doubt my shiny shoes mean anything compared to that shiny thing on your head,” replied Sakura, barely moving her lips. She could feel Naruto staring over at them. Like he was trying to figure out whether or not to join in on the banter. She was grateful that he decided against it.

The gleaming silver circlet on Sasuke’s head marked him as a direct descendent of the king. Even his other uncles and cousins were not allowed to wear such an ornament. From a distance, it didn’t look like much. But the sides were etched with symbols of dragons and wind when Sasuke pointed it out to her later. It was very different from the crowns in the Forest Kingdom. And even more different from the diadem that sat locked in the vaults back in Plumeria.

Lunch was held back at the palace as a garden party. Nobles from the Mountain Kingdom and abroad had come to celebrate. Everyone ate and spoke, drinking glass after glass of expensive wine. Sakura put on her best polite smile for the people who approached her. A few foolish men came with romance on their minds and they were quickly rebuffed. The more painful conversations came from those who were eager to hear about her exploits on the battlefield. Sakura was grateful when Sasuke pulled her from those conversations with some sort of excuse. Once, he threw Naruto into a pack of unmarried ladies as a distraction, who promptly grilled him about his romantic life.

As the sun dipped in the sky, it was time for everyone to prepare for the ball later that night.

“Oh… how lovely,” was all Moegi said when she pulled the dress from the armoire. She was clearly at a loss for words. She gasped as she ran her hands down the green fabric and all the golden detailing. It must have looked beautiful to her.

But Haku was looking at Sakura. He read the expression on her face and gave a sympathetic grimace. “How generous of Her Majesty to provide such a gown,” was all he said.

“Yes. It was kind of her,” Sakura agreed. Shifting her weight to her left leg, Sakura crossed her arms over her chest. When she cocked her head to one side, Moegi and Haku copied her.

“Do I need to wear a corset with this?” she wondered out loud. Moegi gasped, looking insulted.

“Of course, General! You must!” she insisted, waspishly.

In the end, Sakura wore it, but she grumbled as Moegi tugged and tugged on the laces. Haku, thankfully, had been sent to pick fresh flowers from the garden. So he was saved from the sight of Sakura in her underclothes as Moegi squeezed her body into the trendiest shape of the season.

The green silk was tight across her chest and down to the sleeves that almost covered her hands. The matching pointed shoes were decorated with glittering stones. Which seemed pointless since they were hidden under her long skirt.

Haku returned in time to help with Sakura’s hair. They piled it on top of her head and arranged the flowers in a pattern that only Moegi seemed to understand. The pins made her head hurt, but Sakura didn’t complain. She knew what lengths women went to in order to look beautiful. It was the same in any country.

What surprised her was a lack of jewelry. A simple pair of diamond earrings completed the look. Moegi made her turn around for inspection while Haku declared her an absolute vision. One of them pushed the matching fan into her hands. Sakura wished there was a place on her gown that she could attach her falchion.

Sasuke was leaning on the wall beside the door by the time Sakura emerged ready.

He choked on whatever words he had prepared beforehand. But when he finally managed to close his mouth, Sasuke silently offered his arm to her.

"Say something. You're making me feel awkward," Sakura said after they had gone on in silence for a good minute. When Sasuke glanced her way, there was something mischievous glowing in his gaze.

"You know, you almost look like a woman like this," he commented with such a genuine smile that Sakura almost didn't process the insult. She swatted him in the arm with the fan. But it broke the tension and they resumed their usual easy talk until they reached the ballroom in the central wing.

Their names were announced as the double doors opened up. Heads turned toward them. But rather than feeling admired, Sakura had the sense that those stares were somewhat predatory. As soon as a server passed with a tray, Sasuke grabbed two glasses wine for them. They gulped them down. It was going to be a long night.

Just to appear occupied, she grabbed another glass. Swirling the liquid around, she let Sasuke move her around. She memorized names and faces, trying to piece them together with the rumors and knowledge already rattling around inside her head. She hated meeting the unmarried men the most. Their simpering flattery made her feel a little sick.

When the herald announced Naruto’s name, Sakura’s eyes found him right away. He greeted the King and Queen first. And then crossed the big room to say hello to her. Clicking her tongue, she handed her glass to Sasuke.

“I said the left side, not the right,” she sighed as she pulled the pin from his jacket. It was of a sun with a golden gem in the middle. She shoved it through the fabric and latched it in place in sharp movements.

“You’re only supposed to wear it on that side at your funeral. Stop confusing them,” she scolded him.

“Sorry,” Naruto said, grinning a little too much to actually be sorry.

Sakura shooed him off and he said something about finding the food. Sakura reclaimed her drink from Sasuke. And as someone tried to strike up a conversation with her, Sakura’s eyes followed Naruto. They darted around, checking the chandeliers. Scanning the expressions of all the people in the crowd. And for the rest of the night, even as she drank or spoke, she made sure she knew where Naruto was in relation to her.

About an hour into the party, Sakura found herself nearly bored to tears. A quick look over at Sasuke confirmed that he was probably feeling the same way. But his polite smile stayed in place as one of his distant uncles blathered on about his eldest son's accomplishments. It was a dreary story involving sheep and paperwork. Biting her lower lip, Sakura handed her glass over to Sasuke. He fixed her with a bewildered look until she pointed toward the doors.

"I'll be off to," Sakura paused to glance around, "…powder my nose. Please excuse me.” Before Sasuke could stop her, Sakura slipped off through the crowd and out of the ballroom. The click of her high heels drew some stares but she deflected attempts at conversation to make her escape. She managed to get to the nearest washroom to enjoy even just a moment of silence. But she gathered her thoughts and steeled herself to dive back into the fray.

On her way back to the party, she spotted something odd about the wall. It was painted white with the same blue and blue borders to match the other panels. But then she noticed that it stuck out just a little more than it should. When she nudged it, she could see that it was another secret passage. She wondered if these were meant for the servants or for someone else.

Casting a look around and finding the corridor empty, she slipped past the door and closed it behind her. She found herself in a narrow passage with glass lanterns lighting up the walls. A little ways down, the hall became a set of stairs that turned sharply to the left as she climbed. She tried her best to map where she was in relation to the ballroom but she struggled to calculate how thick the walls of the palace were. In the end, she gave up trying to understand and moved forward for curiosity's sake.

The stairs eventually ended and Sakura saw nothing but flat wall ahead of her. But by now she understood that this palace often tricked people by pretending to be ordinary. She ran her fingers down the smooth surface and around the edges until there was a little click and it swung outward.

Stepping light on the balls of her feet, Sakura snuck ahead. She tried to get a bearing of her surroundings. The marble floors and deep red walls were identical to the ballroom but this couldn't be on the same level. The stairs had definitely taken her up. She could hear the music and chatter from the ball nearby. This was likely a hidden room upstairs, in the ballroom, but tucked out of sight.

She advanced a few more steps and realized that she was on one of the balconies overlooking the festivities. She had noticed the balconies earlier in the night but hadn't paid much attention.

As Sakura moved on ahead, she spotted a person standing alone.

“Oh,” Sakura said. She already recognized him.

He started. When he whirled around to face her, Itachi let out the same, “Oh.” His hand was on his chest, as if stopping his heart from leaping right out from fright. His shoulders relaxed a little when he realized who it was lurking around.

"You seem to have a talent for ferreting out my hiding spots, General," Itachi greeted her first as he dipped his head. Sakura bowed too as she smiled.

"And you seem to have a talent for having the best hiding spots, Prince," she responded. She crossed the floor to join him. Leaning against the thick stone banister, she peered down at the people chatting and mingling. She could see Sasuke trapped in a different conversation now. Every so often, his eyes flickered in the direction of the door, as if waiting for her to burst back in to rescue him.

"You're wearing a dress," Itachi observed. Sakura suppressed a laugh.

"Silver tongue, I see," she replied. A chagrined smile curled Itachi's mouth as they watched the dancers spin by below.

"…It's a very nice dress," he added after a long moment. Sakura stole a glance at him. She didn't need anyone to tell her that. She already knew from the lustful stares that other men had been giving her in passing. Now that she was suddenly not wearing an intimidating military uniform, they seemed to realize that she had curves like any other woman.

Men were so simpleminded, Sakura thought with exasperation.

"I don't think I've ever seen you not wearing pants before, General," added Itachi as an idle thought.

"Well, unless you stare through my window at night, I don't see why that wouldn't be true," she told him with a cheeky note to her voice.

"And without your sword."

That startled Sakura. She hadn't expected anything like that from this particular prince. Sakura was quiet for a long time until she felt him look at her. Pressing a silencing finger to her mouth, she slowly hiked up the left side of her dress. Itachi's face erupted in scarlet as soon as he glimpsed her ankle. But she pulled the silky fabric higher and higher until she revealed a black band across her thigh. Still blushing furiously, Itachi narrowed his eyes. In one swift motion, Sakura yanked a small blade from its concealed strap.

"This is so much more ladylike, don't you think?" she said as she flipped the knife once and caught it. Itachi stared as she fit the blade back into place. When her skirt fell back down, it left no sign of the pointed weapon hidden underneath. Blush fading, Itachi examined her again, this time with unconcealed curiosity brightening his gaze.

"Still on duty even at a party? The dance today is being held in your honor. And we have guards stationed everywhere,” Itachi reminded her.

“If you put a soldier in a dress, she’s still a soldier,” she said with a shrug.

“I don’t believe there’s any rule that a soldier can’t enjoy herself," he countered.

"Unless you're asking me to dance, Prince, I'm afraid I cannot do much with your reproach," laughed Sakura. There was warmth in Itachi's expression as he chuckled along with her.

Still, she lingered there, talking to Itachi and learning about some of the Uchiha noblemen and women prancing about below. Their gowns in a rainbow of jewel tones flowed beautifully around them as they danced.

Sakura couldn't stay for long. She knew that his relatives for could only distract Sasuke so long. And she also felt some guilt leaving him to endure the boredom by himself. So after a while, she (somewhat reluctantly) admitted, "I should get back. Your poor brother is probably looking for me."

Feigning nonchalance, she examined Itachi's expression as she spoke. During her time in the palace, she discovered that the brothers rarely spoke of each other. And no one in the palace ever mentioned the older brother, as if he didn't exist at all. The only clue to his existence was the large family portrait hanging on the second floor in the eastern wing. There was Itachi, sitting in an armchair while the rest of his family stood.

Sasuke always walked past that picture like it wasn't even there.

But Itachi's face was soft as he looked back down on the ballroom again.

"…Thank you," he uttered as he turned toward her. Sakura felt her face grow warm at the simple statement.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand why I'm being thanked," Sakura slowly admitted.

Itachi closed his eyes. His face was narrow and there was something frail about the shape of his cheekbones as he drew in a soft breath. The dark fan of his eyelashes against his pale skin was suddenly impossible to look away from. And when he opened his eyes again, Sakura was caught directly in his gaze.

"Thank you for caring about my brother."

Sakura gave some sort of polite response and walked away. But as soon as she rounded the corner, she felt warmth spread from her chest, all the way up to her ears. She needed a minute to compose herself. Slipping out onto the nearest balcony, she willed the cool mountain air to erase the pink from her face.

“That man has no business being so charming,” she sniffed as she fanned herself with her hand.

When she returned to the ball, Sasuke's gaze immediately snapped to her. He ducked out of the flock of women chirping around him to practically seize her arm. Drawing her in close, he spoke through clenched teeth.

"You threw me to the harpies," he accused her with equal amounts of relief and anger. Sakura shrugged.

"If you didn't get your eyes pecked out, you're fine," she assured him before they moved to the dance floor to escape the women advancing on them.

By midnight, many of the guests had begun to retire for the night. And Sakura, trying her best not to wobble, readily agreed when Sasuke suggested that they make a quick escape as well. Though he offered to escort her back to her apartment, Sakura waved him off and wished him a good night. Sakura made it all the way to the west wing and up to the second floor before Moegi caught up to her. No doubt she had heard that the party was winding down and had come to find her.

"General!" Moegi called out as she hurried to meet her. Giving a strained smile, Sakura waved her over.

"Would you help me? I'd forgotten how painful women's shoes could be," grumbled Sakura. Tittering, Moegi gladly offered her assistance.

"Did you enjoy yourself, General?" Haku greeted her as he held the door of the apartment open for her. Gripping Moegi's arm for support, Sakura made her way to the blue armchair in the foyer normally set out for guests. Haku knelt, easing the pointed shoes off of Sakura's swollen feet.

"High heels must be the invention of careless and cruel men," declared Sakura.

Moegi reappeared in the room, a basin filled with warm water from the tub. She placed it on the floor before she and Haku each took a foot to lower it in to soak. A profound sigh of relief left Sakura's mouth as she let her head loll back.

"Worry not, General. A good massage and then we'll wrap them up with some herbal balms. You’ll walking and dancing again by tomorrow,” Moegi cheerfully assured her.

Sakura held a hand up. “No talking of walking or dancing until one of you gets this damn corset off of me,” she sighed.

+++

< Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 >

[tommaso-gatti]

He was dreaming of home again. It had been four months since his last visit, only a few weeks in the winter to spend a hasty Christmas before rushing to New York for New Years, then Lovell for the new term. Homesickness spread like a rot, lying wake in his marrow— he’d always been a sentimental person, but as days stretched on, his dreams formed memories of places he missed, painting them in colours of his imagination in desperate attempts to ensure that he didn’t forget the details.  

He grew up in Porta Romana, and his family still lived in the townhouse that he’d been raised in.  He’d been born in that house, with a midwife, in the old way. His dreams open to him waking up in his bed, as if leaving Connecticut in one state brought him back to this one in another. April is warmer in Milan than it is in Lovell, and their home is painted in bright tones— mimicking sunlight in the rare parts of the house that it doesn’t leech in from large windows. The house is never quiet, he’s not often alone there. In the kitchen his mother and his aunt bickers over the proper ratio of coffee to milk for the perfect coffee and the sweet smoke from tobacco floats in from open windows where his father and uncles are having morning cigarettes. In his dreams, these senses are so vibrant he’s woken up in a start, terrified that the house he is sleeping in has been lit ablaze by a tipped over ashtray.

Other dreams begin with him walking down the street, each step amplified against cobbled stone. He’s alone, but surrounded by people. It’s not a lonely city, not like Berlin, and it’s not as beautiful as Venice, or Paris, but Milan feels like being swallowed by history. Years immersed in art and architecture from centuries long gone have dulled their fascination in him— each neighbourhood of the city wraps around Il Duomo, stemming off like a ray of sun. He can’t recall the last time he’d been inside, just that the past seems to nip at the heels of everyone who walks through the streets. Dante was alive nearly seven centuries ago, but he can still recall passages verbatim from school— despite never knowing really what they mean, just that they’re important. They’re something to hold onto, and he finds himself late at night rereading paragraphs to keep them in his memory.

Sometimes, he dreams of Bernardo, Lodovico and Viridiana. He never sees his cousins’ faces, just Viry’s red hair as she turns away, or Bernardo’s booming laugh. They spent every holiday together and he’d never wanted much for siblings because of their closeness. He grew up in a three story townhouse, but Lodo and Viry were on the same street, bursting through the doors on mornings that they didn’t simply fall asleep there. They’d spend a whole summer at Lake Como, or Bernardo’s family home on the Ligurian coast. He recalls long days in the sunshine, where they’d stretch out and dry their clothes after swimming in the clear waters. When he dreams, he’s back there, jumping barefoot off of the wooden dock— jolting up in bed when his mind begins to reenact a fall.

When he dreams of winters, he’s in the Valle D’Aosta or Las Condes. He has dreams of white capped mountains in Italy, and of careening down the Andes with his cousins behind on skis and snowboards. In the memories, he always finds himself freezing— waking up to a blanket thrown off and his limbs goose bumped and cold. Other nights, when it’s too warm, he is back in Santiago. Milan is home, but Chile feels like stepping into the house of a friend; it is familiar and he is comfortable there. His mother speaks of Neruda in his dreams like they are old friends and in the morning, he’ll rise and look at his ceiling, recalling words of poetry that untangle in his mind like yarn.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

The warmest memories are of his mother. Sometimes in sleep, he is a little boy again, alone with her when his father is in Rome again— an ambassador never has too much time for his family, not when he’s representing the whole of a country, leaving them together for stretches as long as a week. They’d dance to records, filling the home with the full and lively notes of Chilean music. She’d tell him that he reminds her of old home, tugging on his dark curls to distract him when her dark eyes got glassy. When he called her now, he knew that she was alone in that house, that the records went unplayed. Tommo had carved her name into the bark of the Wishing Tree, Florencia. He wished her happiness.

Some days he wakes with heartache so violent he feels as though he’d never make it out of bed. He was fifteen when he left, barely grown up— he’d been excited to go to America then. Years passed without him and he feels disjointed, half present and half somewhere else. Last summer he spent three weeks (his longest visit since leaving) in Milan and he documented it all on video, so that when the memories grew hazy around the edges and slipped away from him he would have something to hold onto, to keep them vibrant. His baby cousin, Lucia, features in all of them. She looks like him, with her rounded face haloed by pin-tight curls. They’d spent most of the weeks outside, sat on the sun warmed terracotta tiles of the terrace. She’d held up her hand and he’d pressed his own to it, dwarfing tiny fingers and nails. His aunt told him that she was twice as big now, her cheeks dimpled like an angelo and that she asks for him. Tommo is certain that she doesn’t remember who he is, but he accepts the lies gladly.

He’s dreaming of a place that he isn’t sure exists anymore. Memories have shaped a world that he barely recognizes when he returns to and familiar streets and faces have faded into strangers.

[fhujami]

Helpless when she smiles | Chapter 49 [Sam Drake x PlusSize!Reader]

Okay so.... My HDMI cable is in other town now, so I cannot connect my computer to my tv to publish the chapter, so I will try to do it with my phone. I will add the chapters to previous chapters later.

Tags; @dragonjedihobbit @missdictatorme @toniinhere @theoniprince @ruaiori @ikikime @souls-rain @emilyackles @bechobbi

Warnings; Blood

Chapters 1 - 9  -  Chapters 10 - 19 - Chapter 20 - 29 - Chapter 30 - 39 -   Chapter 40 - Chapter 41 - Chapter 42 - Chapter 43 - Chapter 44 - Chapter 45 - Chapter 46 - Chapter 47 - Chapter 48 - Chapter 49 - Chapter 50

Chapter 49

Sam opened the door for you, and you stepped inside the house after spending another day in the hospital with the babies. You walked few steps, looking around while listening the silence which was floating around you.

Every day you were hoping you could come back home with your little miracles, so coming back home without them - once again - was heartbreaking.

Doctors told the babies were getting stronger with each passing day, and before you knew it you'll can finally go home with them.

But since that day arrives, every time you came back home without them, killed you little from the inside. This was not what you were thinking to happen when you finally meet your babies, coming home without them, leaving them alone to the hospital.

You wiped your eye with the back of your hand from the tear that managed to escape, while Sam shut the door behind him, following you to the kitchen, where you walked to place the take-away food on the table.

Sam walked behind you, wrapped his hands around you and rested his jaw on your shoulder. You hugged his arms, closing your eyes.

“Soon we will have them home with us.” - Sam whispered, placing a soft kiss on your neck.

You squeezed harder his arms, sighing deeply. - “This was not what I imagined it would be, coming home without them.”

Sam took a hold of your hands, twirled you around and cupped your cheeks and looked deep into your eyes.

“Soon honey. Soon we have them with us in our home.”

Your eyes welled up with tears again, and after you nodded, Sam placed a long kiss on your forehead, before leaning his own to it, looking your eyes.

“You are so beautiful.” - he whispered, his thumbs softly caressing your cheeks.

Your eyes roamed his eyes, until a low growl broke the silence, and you saw how Sam's eyes widened a little.

“Well that was romantic.” - Sam chuckled amused.

“Is daddy hungry?” - you lifted your eyebrow, and soon you heard the growl again - ”I think he is.”

Sam straightened himself for his full height, leaving you feel yourself so small next to his body, as he waited his stomach to growl one more time. As soon it happened he looked down at you again. “Okay, I think it is time to our fancy dinner.”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower first.” - you chuckled and got up in your toes to kiss his cheek, and after that you started to head to the bathroom, while Sam stayed in his place, his eyes following your form til it disappeared behind the corner.

As your form was out of his sight, he sighed quietly. He wished as much as you did that you could get little Sandra and Aaron to home with you as soon as possible.

It was as hard to him as it was for you - but he didn't let it shown to the outside. He wanted to stay strong front of you, because you were the weaker and more fragile than he was.

Your past made you the way you were, even you had learned to show and open up about your feelings after meeting Sam, you learned to trust him and tell him whenever there were worries in your mind.

And if you didn't find words to say them, he had learned enough of your appearance to know whenever there was something going on, so he knew whenever you needed his present to make to feel you know that you were not alone. Not anymore.

You had now him.

And you two had Sandra and Aaron.

When Sam heard how the shower went on, he turned to face the table to unpack your take-away food, as waiting you to join him to have your not-so-fancy dinner.

While unpacking the food, he couldn’t stop wondering how much he couldn't wait that he could hold the twins all the time, walking with them around the house, talking to them, telling them about his adventures.

You made agreement he can do that when they were small and couldn't understand anything, otherwise they would get nightmares.

Yes, some of his adventures were not for kids ears, especially his time in prison, so he promised you that he will not talk about it to the twins until they are old enough - if even then.

And hr was actually looking forward to wake up in the middle of the night to feed them - or even change their diapers.

He never imagined he would wait that kind of stuff, and that thought made him chuckle amused.

He remembered that when he was sitting in the ruins of Libertalia with his brother years ago, he had told to his brother that this kind of life wasn’t for him.

Changing diapers and exchanging the baby photos.

‘Not for me.’

But he didn’t knew back then that he was going to meet a woman like you, a woman who would change everything.

The moment he saw you in that terrace, and that little smile of yours what appeared on your beautiful face, was the moment when his life was changed forever.

That smile brightened the whole terrace - and his life.

Now his life had a meaning, the emptiness what was filling his heart since the huge fail of Libertalia, was now finally filled.

He always thought the treasure of his life could be found in the deep jungles, forgotten city ruins or in the caves of mountains.

He never thought that the treasure of his life could be a family.

His own family.

He never could had imagine that the greatest adventure he could have wasn't of searching all those artifacts in lost cities of the jungles.

But it was fatherhood.

Latest trip with Chloe and Nadine made him realize, that the treasure hunt wasn't satisfying anymore.

Because he had now reason to come back home, - no, he had a reason to stay at home. He actually had real home now.

Home, what he never had since his mother died and his father dumped him and Nathan to the orphanage.

Now he had a home and a family, with you, little Aaron and Sandra.

He would had never forgive himself if he had missed their birth. He was happy he chose to leave back home early, it was like some instinct to tell him to come home, so he could be there to welcome his little babies to the world.

He smiled at himself when he remember how little Sandra took her first breaths, and how his heart clenched when he remember how he waited to hear Aaron’s first scream.

As he let his thoughts to return to this planet, he had finished your not-so-fancy take away dinner, with one single candle on table burning strongly to bring some nice and romantic feeling to your dinner, Sam finally called you to bathroom telling that the dinner was ready.

You didn’t answer to him, but he could hear how shower was still on, maybe you just didn’t hear him through the door and running water, so after short silence, he called you again.

But when there was still no answer from you, Sam frowned, how you could not hear him?

“Y/N?” - he called you once again, while making his way toward the hall and behind the bathroom door as he leaned closer to listen, hearing the shower hitting against the floor, the sound of running water being steady.

“Y/N the dinner is ready.” - but yet you still didn’t answered to him, so he turned the doorknob, opened the door while the water steam hit his face from behind it.

When the door was fully open and he looked to the shower, he saw how the water on the floor was painted in red.

His heart jumped up on his throat, his eyes widening when he stepped closer, throwing the shower curtain away, revealing behind it your naked body sitting on the floor against the wall, your face pale, head hanging down on your shoulder and the water around you painted in red from the blood.

Blood?

His scream of your name echoed in the house when he kneeled next to you, cupping your face, shaking it softly.

He patted your cheek, on which you didn’t reacted, as you were just a lump corpse.

“Oh lord… Babe… Babe… Wake up… Open your eyes, please open your eyes!” - he kept shaking your head, looking at your unconscious body, floor filled with blood while his tears had started to flow down his cheeks.

He reached to his jean pocket, to fish his phone from it as he dialed 911 with his shaking hand while his mind raced with panic. Placing the phone down to the edge of the sink as he put the speaker on, Sam once again cupped your cheeks, shaking gently your head again, repeatedly calling your name.

‘911 what’s your emergency?’

“This is Samuel Drake, I found my girlfriend from the shower unconscious, she’s bleeding!” - the panic and fear from his tone was noticeable.

‘Has she hurt herself?’ - woman's voice asked on the other side.

“Just send the fucking ambulance!” - Sam screamed to the phone, his fingers finding their place to your throat, searching for your pulse.

‘Sir, you need to calm down. Has she hurt herself?’

“No! She was in labour a week ago!” - Sam kept screaming while he turned the shower off after finding your pulse, grabbing a towel from the hook and wrapping it around your body.

‘Has she's been bleeding before?’

“Yes! But the doctor said is totally normal!”

‘Has she feeling any dizziness, nauseous or any pain in her abomnden?’

Sam froze as he looked down on your body, when his brain tried to figure had you mentioned anything to him.

You had told him your head felt little dizzy just before you came back home from the hospital, but you guessed it was just because you hadn’t eaten well that day.

About the bleeding - you told him everyday how you felt like you had periods again - which you hadn't during pregnancy. But how much you were bleeding, he didn't knew.

“I… She… She didn't…” - Sam had no words to say. You hadn't told him anything

'Sir, ambulance is there in few minutes.’

[baggettsathome]

A Few Great Weeks, A Few Bumps

It’s been about three weeks since Nate discharged from the hospital and things have been going pretty well but, as seems to often be the case, we’ve had a few bumps in the road.

A successful clinic visit with staples and drains removed!

He’s been back to the clinic a few times each week to check in. The two surgical drains on his left side that were placed during the most recent operations were removed last week and so were the 30 staples in his most recent incision.

However, he’s heading back in tomorrow to get one, possibly two, new drain(s) in his left side. Some low-grade fevers earlier this week prompted a CT scan, and there are two small fluid collections there that need to be drained to prevent them from getting infected and causing larger issues. He’ll be admitted for at least a couple of days for IV antibiotics as we wait to see if the fluid had any bacteria growing in it. If bacteria is growing in the fluid, we would be back to doing IV antibiotics at home. Our hope is that this admission is short and that Nate will be back home by early next week!

It’s disheartening to get drains put back in so soon after getting others removed. Still, we’re relieved to be dealing with an issue that has such a straightforward resolution. He’s still got the right-side drain in his liver draining the biloma they found there a few months ago. While he’s in the hospital, they’re going to check on that one too and see if it needs to be moved or upsized (or if it can be removed🤞).

Nate’s biggest complaints over the last few weeks have been pain, fatigue, and lack of appetite/nausea. The pain is in his new incision and in his back, mostly in his left psoas muscle that was injured in all the bleeding. The appetite-related symptoms are likely related to the pain and the medications he has to take for it, so we’re hoping that the issues both subside before too long.

Nate’s cooking has moved from the kitchen to his new smoker! 

And each week things do seem to be improving, at least a little bit. Nate’s a little more mobile and eating a bit more every few days. He’s used a wheelchair when we go somewhere that involves walking or standing for more than a few minutes, but can get around the house without too much assistance. He’s even getting a little more independent getting up and down the stairs. We’ve got our fingers crossed that any new drains he gets tomorrow aren’t painful enough to stop that momentum.

At the town festival to watch our godson ride a few rides after a great birthday party! Crazy to think Nate was discharged from the hospital just 10 hours before this picture was taken!

As for Nate’s liver, things are stable. His hepatic artery has been completely clotted off since the major bleed last month. But somehow his liver seems to be getting the blood supply it needs, at least for now. His labs have been more-or-less normal since his discharge. The fevers earlier this week had us all pretty worried that the limited blood supply had triggered liver cells to start dying off and causing bilomas (infected fluid collections within the liver itself). We were especially concerned when a CT scan showed abnormalities on the left side of Nate’s liver that seemed to indicate that’s just what was happening. However, further investigation showed that the spot is the same one that’s been there for months and nothing in the liver tissue there seems to have notably worsened since earlier this summer. That was a pretty big scare for us, but this whole journey has been a wild ride of sky-high highs and basement-level lows.

We continue to be hopeful that Nate and his liver will defy predictions and be all right without a functioning hepatic artery. So far, things are certainly going better than expected, and we are so grateful! However, we’re also trying to be realistic and acknowledge that it’ll take months to give us a better idea of Nate’s prognosis. We’re getting his affairs in order and talking about his end-of-life wishes and goals. We met with a local hospice for an information session and they were incredibly helpful and kind. We talked about Nate’s hopes to be able to do home hospice if we need their services. We obviously hope that won’t be necessary for a long time. But should things change, we feel like we’ll be as prepared as we can be and in good hands.

In the meantime however, we’re living up these extra innings and focusing on all the good things in life! The transplant team was incredible and got us discharged in time to go to our godson’s birthday last month. Nate was so happy to be able to be there (and we think our godson was happy too), and we arrived just in time to celebrate with him. We also got to be there for his somewhat impromptu baptism!

We’ve also had visits from some great friends, and we had an awesome Fourth of July weekend with our friends who came in from Boston. Now we are looking forward to Nate’s birthday party next week! (If you’re going to be around town, let us know and we can send you details!) Nate has had to miss out on a lot over the last couple of years, so we’re doing what we can now to make up for some of it. We feel pretty darn lucky, all things considered, to be in a position to do that. We are still completely blown away by the success of our GoFundMe. We’re benefiting so much from the generosity and compassion of our support system, you folks included. Thank you once again for all that you’ve done to lift us up.

It’s been so great to have so many dear friends visiting! We can’t wait to see even more of you next week at the birthday party!

We hadn’t been to Madison’s wonderful Farmers’ Market in over a year, so it was great to get to spend a Saturday morning out with friends enjoying this great city!

Out for a night at the Memorial Union Terrace!

Wish us luck with the new drain(s)! We hope to have positive updates for you soon.

[roughsexwithgaga]

False Impression

Lady Gaga rolled out of bed and grabbed the pack of cigarettes and the lighter on her bedside table while she stumbled across the floor to the terrace doors. Her body ached like she had been working out all night and her tongue felt like she had been licking the bark off a tree for hours. The dreams had been intense and seemed real just as she had opened her eyes, but now they faded. She had been running, and the anxiety still clung to her.

She picked up a blanket from the floor and wrapped it around her before she stuck one of the cigarettes between her lips and opened the doors. As usual the handle malfunctioned and she cursed at herself for forgetting to tell one of her employees to alert the maintenance guy while she yanked it open. Once the door was opened she took a step out to inhale the New York City air and lit the cigarette, took a greedy drag and exhaled with a cough when she heard a familiar voice.

”Good morning, Steffi.”

She turned her head and looked inside the bedroom and the messy bed she just left. Her jaw slacked and the package and the lighter slipped out of her hands. What the…? What happened last night? How much did she have to drink? She looked at her close friend Tommy London, who clearly felt comfortable between the sheets in her bed. Her face must have given her away because he looked disappointed.

”You were like… completely smashed yesterday,” he said and let his hands explain exactly how smashed she was by moving them rapidly in opposite directions.

She swallowed and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow while she sucked the cigarette. Exhaling the smoke through her teeth she muttered, ”Clearly.” She didn’t want to ask him what happened, but tried to sense if she had sex. Her hips bucked for no particular reason when she focused on her vagina and the muscles down there.

Tommy noticed her puzzled face and how she made an awkward move with her lower body like she tried to cough. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxers and got out of the bed to walk up to her. His hair stood right up on his head and he ran his fingers through it. He picked her cigarettes up and put it on the table next to her. ”And no,” he said and smiled. ”You know nothing happened. I don’t know what upsets me the most, that you doubt me or that you doubt yourself.”

She pressed her lips together and pouted them to shrug it off. It kind of scared her that she had been so wasted she had no memory of what happened. What if he was lying and she really had been embarrassing yesterday. And why didn’t he get out of the bed as soon as she passed out?

”But why-” she pointed at the bed and he interrupted her. It was obvious to him that she didn’t remember anything whatsoever and he wondered if she would believe him.

”You insisted that I would sleep there.” He sat down on one of the chairs and looked at her. His eyes glittered. ”Before I knew it, you had tossed your clothes off and demanded that I should keep you company until you fell asleep. I tried to sneak out, but you were hard to trick. Even in your state.”

She didn’t believe him and he could see the skeptic look in her eyes. Eventually she laughed, which caused the hangover to gallop around in her head and made her feel nauseous. Tommy thought of how her smudged mascara and eyeliner made her look really sexy. She had her hair loose, and some of the shorter straws fell into her face.

”You look incredibly hot, Steffi. But you can still carry yourself when you’re hammered. Not everyone can do that. I’m pretty amazed.” Tommy still had the image of her naked as she stumbled around the room, scattering her clothes everywhere because she couldn’t keep her balance long enough to put the items in one place. When she had bent down and pulled her thong down he had held his breath and tried not to stare, but it was impossible. And frankly, why did she take her underwear off? The tiny accessory – yes it was an accessory, it wasn’t clothes – snapped out between her fit butt cheeks and she raised one leg to step out of it and nearly fell forward. The cheeks that jiggled when she bounced into the furniture – he couldn’t unsee it and closed his eyes when the image reappeared. The only way he could avoid seeing her waxed clean pussy was if he was blind AND dead.

He had quickly turned around and seconds later he heard a muffled sound when she exhaled and fell into bed. ”Come keep me company,” she had purred and looked at him with her catty eyes, writhing among the fluffy pillows. And he had hesitated several times, even though just sleeping next to her would be a dream come true. Touching her would be out of the question since she was so hammered he doubted she would remember anything and she was his friend. Today he knew he had done the right thing and he had not laid a finger on her, but her ass had been so damn close to him at some occasions when she had been spinning around in the bed. Eventually he had wrapped the comforter around himself so he looked like a caterpillar and stayed that way all night.

”Do you mind if use the shower?” he asked.

”No, go ahead,” she said and smiled. Still wondering how she got home and what happened. The butt end of the cigarette nearly burnt her fingers when she stood there trying to figure out the events yesterday and in what order they took place. She heard the water being turned on and realized she had to pee. She walked in and dropped the blanket on the floor. She pulled a t-shirt over her head and put underwear on before exiting the room.

She opened the door to the hallway and noted that her floor was empty before she used one of the toilets located by the stairs. Resting her head in her palms she felt her forehead pounding, but the nausea had suddenly disappeared. Only to come back and open the taps in her mouth so she felt the saliva build up and the cold sweat down her back. She got off the seat, turned around just in time and threw up.

After a few breaths she felt ready to stand up and washed her face and mouth. Her eyes were red and swollen. ”Hot? You must be blind, Tommy,” she muttered and turned the water off. Wiped her face on a towel and returned to her bedroom. Slightly freshened up, she put her glasses on and saw what a mess she had caused yesterday. Her clothes were everywhere.

She could smell coffee and freshly baked bread and didn’t know if she was hungry or nauseous again. As she wasn’t ready to face anyone just yet she started looking around the room for her phone while she waited for Tommy to finish showering. She was just about to yell down the stairs for Ashley when Tommy came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a tiny towel and with him the steam from the shower at his heels like he entered a stage through smoke. The whole room became as humid as the tropics. ”Seriously, men!” Gaga muttered. ”Kids that grew up, but kept their 7 year old brains.”

He smiled at her and started picking his clothes up while she entered the bathroom. She tossed the t-shirt on the toilet seat and started washing her face before she stepped into the shower with the toothbrush between her teeth. She really wanted to take a bath, but felt rushed for some reason.

…

Gaga walked downstairs and saw the busy kitchen, where some of her team had been preparing breakfast and Gaga’s schedule of the day. She chirped ”Good morning,” and sat down on a chair while Sarah put a mug of coffee in front of her.

”How’s your neck?” she asked.

Gaga looked up and her smile was forced. ”Why? What did I do?” She rubbed her neck but didn’t really notice if anything felt different.

Sarah raised her eyebrows. ”You don’t remember? How strange,” she said with a smirk. ”You head-banged to My Heart Will Go On – through the entire song.”

Gaga giggled and took a sip from her coffee mug. The headache slowly faded and she started to feel better already. ”I seriously don’t know how I’ll get through this day just yet,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead between two fingers. ”First, we have to go to the studio-” She was interrupted by Ashley sticking her phone in her face.

”Oh yeah, you left this on the bar yesterday and I didn’t even bother to give it back to you because…well, yeah.” Ashley snickered.

”Oh my… thank you,” Gaga frowned and took the phone. She had a few missed calls and some texts.

”I answered it yesterday when Christian called but told him you were… unable to get into contact with.”

”Is he mad?” she asked and bit her lip.

Ashley shrugged. ”He’s arriving today.”

Gaga let the air out of her lungs. ”Quick, I need something to pick me up. And what do you have for me today, Tom?” she asked and looked at her stylists.

\o/

Gaga returned to the house in West Village late afternoon after a visit to Inez & Vinoodh’s studio to plan a coming a photoshoot that she was very excited about. She pulled her clothes off and left them in a pile for her assistants to sort out while she stepped into the living room to check her MacBook.

The couch looked really comfortable right now so she planted her ass into it, put her feet up and leaned back with the laptop on her lap. With one hand she ruffled up the slicked back hair on her head while she tried to not get distracted by the activities around her.  

She was exhausted and a little dehydrated, but she was most of all hungry and asked Christian if he wanted to go out and eat. He sat with his head in his palm and scrolled through his phone.

”Hey,” she said and tried to get his attention. ”If you can tear yourself away?”

”Mmmmmm…” he mumbled and slowly raised his eyes from the screen while he took his reading glasses off. ”What?”

She snapped her fingers. ”Dinner, hun? You and me?”

”No thanks, I ate while you were changing outfits,” he said and looked at his phone again.

”Ok, great,” she muttered and looked in front of her. She didn’t really have the energy to go out again tonight and she wanted to be fresh tomorrow, but she wanted to have a nice dinner and a glass of wine so she alerted Ashley to get her a reservation.

She told Christian she was going out anyway and he nodded and said have fun. She stared at him. ”What is it? What have I done? Why are you so distant?”

He looked at her and pulled his eyebrows together. ”Nothing. Just go with your friends. Or order something.”

She stared at him and waited for him to continue. ”My friends?” she asked when nothing was added. And that was apparently the end of that discussion. She sighed. Just as good since she didn’t want to sit and eat while he barely paid attention to her so now she definitely wanted to go to a restaurant.

”Do you even listen to what I say?” she asked and when she got no reply she got confirmation he wasn’t. She looked at him for several seconds and then took her phone and texted Tommy and asked if he wanted to be her date for the night. He must have been sitting with the phone in his hand because he replied immediately with a thumb up and a few other emojis of people dancing and beers.

She found a t-shirt and a pair of black jeans that she slipped into while Christian observed her. She pulled her hair back up in a bun and swept with the mascara over her lashes, pouted her lips and decided to just put on some lip gloss.

When she was done she stepped out of the room and left him sitting in the middle of her chaos after a quick kiss. ”Now you see me,” she smiled and pulled away when he tried to hold on to her hand. Her smile made his heart beat a little faster. Her lips looked glossy and swollen and his eyes landed on the chipped tooth that somehow gave the illusion that her front teeth were bigger. ”How are you so beautiful,” he whispered but she was already out the door.

Tommy was waiting outside when she bounced out the door and down the stairs. She tossed her leather jacket over her shoulder and started strutting down the street towards her car and her driver. The evening was cloudy and heavy clouds of rain were hanging over their heads, but it was still warm.

Inside the car, she took her sunglasses off and said she had reservations at Vandal.

”That’s gonna be perfect, and after that we can go to the Bowery and catch Turbonegro,” he said excitedly and turned towards her.

”Wait,” she said and put her hand up. ”I want to wake up and remember what I did yesterday this time. Can we eat first and decide later.”

He tilted his head to the side. ”Tsk tsk, are you getting old, Steffi?”

\o/

Two hours later she stood beside the stage with a beer in her hand while Tommy was completely swallowed up by the music. The beer bottle in his hand was already empty but he kept swinging the bottle towards his mouth and seemed surprised each time there was nothing in it. Gaga offered to get more beers and gave him her own half empty bottle in the meantime.

Tommy turned towards her and shouted that they could leave if she wanted to. She shook her head, felt the alcohol make her thoughts soft and the outlines blurry. The music hammered against her ears while she thought of Christian and his damn distraught mind.

\o/

Gaga pulled the t-shirt over her head and crawled into the bed under the comforter until she felt Christian’s warm body. She kissed his arm and smelled his neck while she pressed her tits against him. A sure move to get his attention. Her hand slowly moved down his chest towards his groin and her lips softly nudged his. He let out a sigh and raised the book up as to show her how occupied he was.

”Not now, I’m not… can’t you see I’m reading?” he said and added, ”You reek of alcohol.”

She stopped, stared angrily at him and then she flipped the comforter away intentionally so it landed over Christian’s head and his book as she slipped out of the bed. ”I just want to be close to you. Is that so hard to understand?” she nearly shouted with a long exhaling sigh. She picked the t-shirt up and walked out of the room slamming the door shut behind her before Christian got a chance to say anything.

She sat down in an armchair in the opposite room and pulled her feet up underneath her while she reached for the cigarettes on the table. Pulling a deep breath she looked out the window and wondered what the fuck she did wrong now. Resting her chin in her palm she listened to the voices downstairs and thought maybe she should join them. Better than the boring man inside her bedroom.

The cigarette was put out and she sat up when she felt hands on her shoulders. She raised her head to look at the reflection in the windows, but before she caught a glimpse something was pulled in front of her eyes and tied at her neck. ”What th-”, she said but someone said ”Sssch,” very softly.

She tilted her head back and tried to see if there was any light let in through a small glitch by her nose but it was pitch black. Warm fingertips were pressed against her face, down from her cheeks to her lips and she parted them slightly, preparing for a kiss. Nothing happened. She tried to listen to the other person breathing and pulled deep breaths to sense the scent of the other person, but only realized how depending she was on her eyes.

”Christian…” she whispered. It had to be him. Who else would do this? It scared her that she hesitated.

Without touching her skin, the hands pulled the t-shirt over her head and she felt the cold air giving her goose bumps. She sensed her nipples getting stiff and how the area around them got all tense and hard. Something pressed against one nipple and it felt like a thumb slowly caressing and rubbing it. Warm breaths against her skin and then a tongue licked it. She twitched because she wasn’t prepared. Then the other nipple was teased as well, pinched between two fingers while the lips wrapped around the first one. She inhaled to press her tits against the face of the person sucking it put they pulled away before she could feel the familiar 2-day beard stubble.

It was obvious whoever it was wanted her to guess, but she couldn’t think of anyone being bold enough to do this to her with Christian on the other side of the door so it had to be him. She raised her hands to touch him, but he wasn’t there. Did he leave? She couldn’t feel the presence of another person so she got on her feet and took one step to the side so she wouldn’t stumble over the table. Suddenly the hands were on her hips, the soft fingertips made her turn around and gently pulled her thong down. It was definitely a man. She could hear the deep, increased heavy breathing.

The hands made her sit down again and the fingers parted her legs, traveling up on the inside of her thighs and stopped just before they reached her pussy. She felt the moist air against her crotch and how lips pressed against her groin. The tongue swept against her pussy lips. Whoever it was made her insanely turned on. The tip whisked across her slit and when the wet tongue eventually fully lapped her wet folds she inhaled and felt her juices seep down inside her vagina.

She raised her hands again to put them on the man’s head but he grabbed both her wrists before she could touch him. ”Christian!” she said again and laughed. The grip was strong and she tried to twist her arms to break free, only to discover how weak she was compared to the other person. She started to breathe faster, sensing how she was about to panic.

”Christian, I…” she whispered and heard her own voice tremble. She tried to stand up and pulled herself up using the hands holding her as leverage. She fumbled with her fingers across her forehead and pushed the blindfold up. The dimly lit room was still light enough to make her squint and put one hand in front of her eyes. She felt like an idiot.

Stumbling on her feet she felt the arms embrace her from behind and let her own hands glide over his hands. The familiar veins on his hands and arms. The beating of his heart right between her shoulder blades. She turned her head and felt his cheek against her neck when he kissed her in the dimple between her shoulder and the collar bone. ”I’m sorry,” he whispered. ”I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He let her turn around so she could face him. To his surprise she had a tear in the corner of her eye and blinked it away.

”I didn’t know…” he said and looked into her eyes. ”I didn’t… Baby, I didn’t realize I triggered something. It was insensitive and I’m sorry.” Christian sat down on the couch and let her slip down into his lap with his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. He kissed her temple and smelled her hair when she put her face in her hands.

”No, I’m sorry. It’s been a lot these days. I think I’m stressed and I couldn’t think.” She wiped her tear away from her cheek and smiled faintly at him.

”I upset you and I was a jerk pushing you away when you came to bed. I was being an idiot because you went out with your friends. It’s no excuse. Do you want to talk about it?”

”It’s just… I felt so helpless and weak. And no, no it’s nothing.” She wiped her nose and inhaled. Her cheeks looked puffy and her nose was red. The eyelids were dark and the dents underneath her eyes were visible. She looked tired and licked her lips while staring in front of her. Christian thought of how her eyes looked empty. Like she wasn’t focusing on anything and lost in her own thoughts.

”Come to bed,” Christian said and moved her hair away from her cheek.

She turned her face towards him. ”I’m sorry I ruined your surprise,” she said and smiled that faint smile again.

”Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

Gaga got on her feet and Christian held her hand, making her walk ahead of him. The voices from downstairs a little louder now, and familiar. She didn’t know why she got so scared. She felt so ridiculous and ungrateful when Christian tried to make things more interesting. She didn’t need that right now. She was happy with the way things were and just wanted to feel loved and appreciated, but he probably thought she thought he was boring.

”Listen, Christian,” she said and made him stop. ”You don’t have to be extra or anything. If that’s what-”

He laughed and looked into her eyes. ”No, that’s not what I was… OK, yeah.”

”It’s perfect the way it is, don’t you think?”

”Princess,” he whispered. ”Whatever you want is perfect.” He put his hands on her face and kissed her softly. His lips were warm against her full, soft lips and he felt how she relaxed while she parted them. His stubble was rough against her cheek, and when he stroke her face against hers to kiss her neck she shivered and pulled her shoulders up and let her hands glide along his face and neck. She felt his pulse rising with each kiss and slowly made him lie down on the bed. She hovered over him, and he felt her tits press against his chest when she kissed him.

He put one hand on her nape to keep her face near his and felt her soft hairs against his fingertips. He smelled her and closed his eyes when she continued down and pressed her lips against the dimple between his collar bones and moved his necklaces away. His teasing had turned her on and the new touches made her body carry on where it had been interrupted. She wanted the anxiety to go away and to surrender herself to the feeling of release the orgasm would give her.

She rolled over on her back and he followed her, felt her soft thighs against his waist when he was raised on his arms and she let her fingers run over his chest and down towards his groins. She felt the warmth and his tense muscles, the veins and how he was neatly trimmed when she cupped his balls and let her hand run up the throbbing shaft. How hard he was and how the veins stood out and gave way when she put her fingers around it. She guided him towards her slit and felt the knob press against her wet opening and parted her legs a little more. His breathing was getting more intense and he reached down to grab his cock, parted her labia with two fingers and as soon as he felt how wet she was he felt the desire to push inside her explode in his groins.

She held her hands against his neck, felt him try to control his breathing and hold back a grunt as his throat got thick. The veins on his neck stood out and he started breathing through his mouth while he sank inside her tight cunt. The slight resistance while her vagina adapted to his size always made him nearly paralyzed with pleasure and he hurried to pull out and push inside again, like a fucking addict trying to repeat that first rush.

His pelvic bone hit hers and she bucked her hips, raised her legs and felt him ram her quite hard. His thrusts were deep, rhythmic and steady. He would keep going until he felt her breathing increase and the muscles in her lower body spasm. Then he would speed up and push her over the edge, knowing she could be orgasming for several seconds if he just did it right. She deserved that.

”I love you so much,” she whispered and he felt the hairs on his arms stand up and the light touch of her fingers against his neck and shoulders got greedier. Her nails digging into the skin and her grip around his arms hardened when he started moving a little faster. The firm lock of her legs against his waist got more pushy as she made him speed up by moving her hips toward his.

She felt him tremble when he tried to focus on not coming yet, and she moved her hands to his back and let her fingertips stroke along his ribs. Felt the slow rhythm from the movements of his hips and pushed her shoulders down into the mattress. He was raised on his arms and drove his cock deep inside her with each thrust, each hard shove causing her tits to jiggle and look irresistibly heavy on her elevated chest. Her wet, pink nipples brushing against his chest, hard and swollen from his kisses.

She raised her legs and he placed them on his shoulders, put his hands under her butt and pulled her up into his lap. His hands nearly reached around her waist when he pulled her down on his cock. Her back was arched and she reached between her legs to rub her clit while he fucked her. As she approached the orgasm she started spitting out words describing how much she loved his fucking cock and what it did to her. He pushed against her legs, nearly folding her like a switchblade and supported himself on his arms. Raised his hips and rammed so hard against her the sound of their bodies swallowed up her words.

When she finally came she let out a deep, guttural whimper and spat out ”oh god fuck me, that feels so fucking good” and bent her head so far back Christian only saw the tip of her chin and the tensed muscles inside her neck when she spasmed through the orgasm. He kept pumping while her vagina cramped around him and eventually he came too. He held her down while he unloaded inside her, and then watched his wet cock as he pulled out. Still hard and leaking with semen he slipped out of her beaten, soaked hole and saw his load seep out when she moved her legs.

She pulled him down and laid her head on his chest. He breathed fast, felt his dick go soft against his thigh and he could sense that she smiled. ”I love you. Don’t scare me like that again,” she said and he noticed how her voice was so much more confident and soft again. She raised her head and looked into his eyes. The light from the bed lamps hit her face from the side, casting a shadow on her cheek from her nose and her lips were swollen and slightly parted. He traced the lines by her mouth from her cheeks with a finger and she closed her eyes and kissed his hand.

Her eyelids were glossy and had a darker shade than the rest of her face, her brows were furrowed together and her cheeks blushing. She breathed a little faster than usual, her skin had patches of red from the blood rushing through her body. She looked up again and as always he was amazed by her huge eyes and how they didn’t shy away but gazed right back into his, green streaks highlighted by the side light and the pupils narrowed when they were hit by it.

”You are so beautiful,” he said and let her lips wander across his hand until she moved closer and kissed his lips. She felt his hand on her back as they slipped down until it reached her butt, slowly groping one cheek and squeezing it gently and lovingly. Her weight on him, barely noticeable, and her softness against his roughness.

”Do you want to tell me why you’re so distant?” she asked and felt how he held his breath underneath her when she continued. ”Is it something I did?”

The silence annoyed her. He didn’t even hurry up with a lie and an excuse. Eventually he exhaled and she sensed how his chest lowered.  

”I’m sorry I just had a lot on my mind and I know you are busy and-”

”Talk to me then. That’s why we have each other. You can’t leave me in the dark.”

”I know, I just didn’t want to put more on your shoulders.”

”We need to communicate, Christian. I’m right here.”

”There’s a lot going on at my job, and they’re re arranging and shifting a lot of positions so I just wanted to keep myself updated.”

She looked at him. ”Really? Uhm-hm,” she nodded swiftly like she wasn’t convinced. ”Really, Chris. That’s bullshit. They do that all the time, and you never get that invested into that.”

He pulled a deep breath and put his face in his hand. ”It really has nothing to do with you.”

”Stop lying and tell me what it is! I’ll help you anyway I can. If it involves you, it involves me.”

”But it really-”

”Every time you say that I think that you secretly want to leave.”

He inhaled and looked directly into her eyes. ”Who was with you in this bed, and this room when I was away?” There was no accusation in his eyes, only sadness and she felt like she was drowning in his dark brown eyes. For several seconds she was falling and tried to grab on to a ledge to stop the swindling feeling. She was blocked and couldn’t see what he was thinking.

”Christian, I-. I wasn’t… nothing happened.”

”Who? You think I lost all sense of smell? The bed is made but the sheets reek of after shave.”

”No one. No one did. I don’t know what…” she stuttered and then she gave up when his eyes started accusing her and he opened his mouth to say something. She knew he was gonna tell her to stop lying so she did.

”Tommy. I just didn’t want to be alone, and he-”

”Christ,” he muttered but didn’t look away and kept her gaze for several seconds until he noticed how uncomfortable he made her feel. ”What if I did that?”

”I would be so jealous,” she replied instantly and put her fingers against his lips. Then her face crinkled up. ”But I was so out of it. I don’t even remember it and I was so shocked that he was there when I woke up.”

”Then maybe you should consider not drinking until you don’t know what you’re doing. Is he telling you nothing happened? What else do you do when you don’t know?”

She laughed once. ”I wouldn’t have sex with him. And I can tell I didn’t. He wouldn’t do anything to me.”

”But you would?”

”Stop twisting my words. Nothing happened and it never would. I am not attracted to him. We are friends.” The Gaga he knew suddenly slipped back into her and started biting back. He felt her hands on his chest and the fingers curling so that her short nails dug into his skin. Her lips were so close to his face and her messy hair stuck to her cheeks.

”I love you,” he said and let his hands glide up her back to her shoulders. ”I scared you, and you scared me. We’re even now.”

”What? It was all pay back?” She closed her fists and hammered his chest once. Before she realized what happened he had wrapped her up in the comforter and wrestled her into the bed so she didn’t know what way she was facing or what was up and down. ”Stop!” she laughed when she felt his hands on her waist and how he tickled her until she could hardly breathe. ”Stop! I’m sorry,” she shrieked and just as suddenly she was released and felt his weight on her when he pushed her down.

The cold metal of his necklace between her tits and his warm lips pressed against hers. He kissed her gently, tasted her and continued down, filled his mouth with a nipple and licked it while she arched her back at the tingling sensation. His rough chin stroke against her belly on its way down between her legs.

”Yes, my love,” she whimpered when she felt his lips against her south…

THE END

[dentelle-grise]

Your Latest Trick - chapter 29

Summary: Long after everyone has stopped talking about Loki and his misdemeanors, his failed attempt to take over Midgard and his punishment, you meet him at a party. (Loki x Reader NSFW)

Chapter 29 - Loki sets out to impress and tries a little too hard.

First chapter here (can be read as a oneshot) All chapters to date at AO3 (71K, NC-17)

Tagging my rebloggers, commenters and other folk who asked. Please let me know if you want in (or out) of the list: @joanbushur, @frenchfrostpudding, @lovely-geek, @wolfsmom1, @sigridlaufeyson, @lokislonelylady, @monitoroutside, @daniissuchadani, @devilbat, @deadlydreamersecrets @helenisabel, @stardustandangelsfanfiction, @ely-seum, @wendyrobson1978, @the-ships-i-ship, @shemart101, @dreamourbrainout, @sadghostomg, @lokilover2000, @blobfishington, @lynneth1968-blog, @deaddecade, @nardo94, @tom-fucking-hiddleston-1981, @ashesandfire, @imagines-of-the-fandom​, @beingrandomisfun​, @tomsragnarok, @skulliebythesea, @bubbles8231999, @jesuisunthot, @all-of-teh-fandoms, @atreqhukea 

Chapter 29

You’re in this place again. The cottage. His place. And though Loki seems unusually bright and light hearted, you can barely hold back from bombarding him with questions.  

The weather is turning. It’s not a storm coming, but the true onset of winter this time. Looking at the darkening sky, you wonder how long he intends you to hide out here. You ask yourself whether you’d be prepared to live somewhere lost like this, give up everything else, if it meant being with him.

He’s hiding from Thor of course.  And you’re hiding from the rumour mill.

Well, one thing is sure. Out here, sooner or later, he’ll have to explain himself.

The boat is laden with parcels. They mostly contain food, but you get a surprise when what you took for a hamper, well covered by a blanket, turns out to be the casket from the throne room. Its colours are angry and agitated, moving faster than before, perhaps from the shaking they got on the ride.

��Whoah.” you say, taking a steps away from it. It doesn’t seem a reassuring thing to have brought on a trip away. But then this isn’t any regular romantic break, is it?

He shoos you away from it, handing you a box of apples instead, and takes the casket himself, lifting it up carefully, almost reverently, only holding it only though the blanket, without letting to touch his bare hands.

“Does your Dad know you’ve got that?”

“In point of fact. It’s mine.” He says, more to the box than to you.

“The Aether!?” Now, admittedly Odin is probably safer without it, but is Loki any better?  

“No, the casket.”

Whatever the reason is that he brought it, you’re not happy about having it in the cottage.

“But why bring it here?”

“Wait and see.” he teases, like you were an impatient child. This doesn’t reassure you.

Magic artefacts aside, Loki has certainly stocked the kitchen well enough, so much so that that the house looks even smaller.

You spend the waning day quietly. There’s just a single chair by the hearth, this is a place for one person after all, but you fit in it perfectly beside him. You are hardly touching, but it feels like an echoed afterglow of the frenzy of last night. If only it weren’t for what happened this afternoon. There’s a warmth between you but also a tension that hovers like an uninvited guest.You alternately  watch the growing dusk, the dancing flames and his face.

“Why deceive Heimdall?” you venture.

Without any sign of surprise or resistance to your question he looks you in the face and smiles.

“Because he’d only snitch on me to Thor.” he states simply. “As he so finely demonstrated.”

Why deceive Thor though? To ask that question would be to enter troubled waters indeed.

“But couldn’t you just have hidden us?”

“It’s not that simple. When so much of my attention and energy is otherwise engaged…” He gives you a knowing and appreciative look. “It’s far easier to wear a mask than to disappear. A simple illusion is all it takes, then a person’s imagination will do the rest. Even Heimdall’s.”

“So… he saw me and… Odin…” You shudder and pull a face, but Loki doesn’t react and when you look at him he’s got this wistful expression and you start to feel deeply annoyed that he’s missed the point. Ignored your discomfort.

But then he says, “I told father everything about us.”

You catch your breath. Finally.

Your joy bounces in your chest and you want to hug him, but you keep it squeezing his shoulder.

“And what did he say?”

There’s a silence.  Too long a silence. Loki takes a breath.

“Well nothing actually.”  

You feel a shiver of cold, despite the fire, and picture Odin at his worst. Is this why Loki whisked you away?

“He was asleep at the time.”

“Asleep?” You let your hand fall to your side. “Well why tell him if he couldn’t have heard you.”

“On the contrary, mother once told me he hears everything when he is asleep .”

Something is not right. What does Loki mean by ‘asleep’?  Could it be that Odin, overdoing it as you’ve seen is not just asleep but in ‘the sleep’.

“Why are we here even? And why did you bring that…‘thing’?”

“We need give things a chance to calm down.”

That you can see.

“And this,” he nods at the box glowing under its cover. “Well this I’ve got to show you.”

“It’s not going to bring Malekith here is it?”

He seems just as unruffled and amused.

“Not while he only has one arm and is on the run from his own countrymen, which I have on good authority.”

“But the Aether…”

“It makes the casket’s magic stronger.”  

You didn’t know anything about Loki possessing a magic casket before now.

“But what does it do?” The only magic casket you know of is the ancient one from Jotunheim and that’s hardly be Loki’s, but then neither is the Aether.  And with Odin ‘asleep’…

“It can make anything you want.” He says cheerfully.  The glow in the unlit kitchen is more rosy than blue at the moment. Loki reaches to touch the casket and you watch fascinated as he undoes the clasp on the lid. “But mostly it makes ice and snow.”

So it is the Jotunheim casket.

“Look.” He points out the window, away from the artefact in his hands. In front of the house there’s a small decked area, for mending nets and the like, but now you see there’s a terrace.  “Look” he prompts again and before your eyes columns grow at each corner and a roof, the across the beach and shore a there spreads a sheet of smooth shiny ice as flat as a frozen lake. What’s he doing? You go to turn. “Keep looking out there, you don’t want to miss this.” he warns. Arches, cloisters and stairs and doorways to great hallways grow, all apparently out of ice. You’ve never seen anything to dazzling or impressive, its as though Loki just created a whole new palace out of ice and magic.

“Not such a hovel now is it?”

You look over at him.  Loki is turned away, his face in darkness, but you can hear him gently panting, Such magic must take quite an effort. You politely ignore it. And look out at the new buildings that have sprung up. “It’s beautiful.” It’s not just incredibly built, but tastefully designed. You see the expanse of ice that has replaced the beach.  “I wish I had my…”

“By the door.” And there lie your ice skates. “Go on, try it.  I’ll be out in a minute.”

You step outside onto the terrace that wasn’t there before, then onto the transformed beach that lays beyond it like a vast mirror-smooth plaza reaching into the ocean.

Under your skates, its fabulously even. It’s been nearly a year since you skated but you remember instantly. You set off, alone on the ice like you’ve never been.  The ice is new and there’s no one to run into. You can go as fast as you like, turning curves and figures you never thought yourself capable of. You wonder if it's an illusion that he’s spun, purely in your head, because it’s incredible. You decide you don’t care.

The sea seems miles away, barely audible. Surrounding you is the crisp cold air of a winter’s day. When is he coming you wonder. The palace has grown so huge now that it dwarfs the island, the little house must be there somewhere among the ice buildings.  

And there he is, coming for you out of the night.  He’s already built up quite as when he catches up to you and sweeps you up and into the movement. You speed into the growing night together, dark before you, the moon above and the light of a fantastic city behind you.

You’re laughing, nearly screaming, from the exhilaration, the cold air drawing tears from your eyes and drying them just as fast.

He leads but you turn together, as though you had always been partners and knew where to go, when to move. You are so close that a single false move would send you into a high speed tumble, skates and all, but you have no fear. You are perfect together and you feel how simple it makes things to trust him.

You don’t want to break the spell with a single word. If he can do this, he can do anything. But finally, you circle to a halt and he lifts your hands together in his.  He kisses them warm, making you realise how cold they were, you hadn’t given it a thought.

His embrace is firm and his kisses are hot and welcome, but you’ve got to get moving again before you get too cold. As you make your way back, the house is a little warm light in the nestled among the cool graceful architecture of spires and arches, all sculpted from the frozen waves.  

At the foot of the great castle, you shed your skates.  He steps towards a grandiose doorway framed by a pair shining columns in the form of snakes. Then he looks over his shoulder a moment, gives you another look you know and he starts to run. You follow him into the palace, first great reception rooms, then though passageways and up stairways to balconies sparking in starlight. He is  showing off and you let him. This he can have when the rest of his life is in hiding. And you allow yourself to dream a little of a time when that will no longer be so.

You stare in wonder at a vaulted roof high above your head. An ice palace, like in the stories of Jotenheim. Did he have all of this stored up in his head waiting? Then you see Loki’s already at the very end of the hall and disappearing up a narrow spiral stairway. After him you go, racing up and bursting out on a roof garden.  It’s devoid of any plant life but breathtaking. Like everything here, it’s timelessly beautiful, though completely hard and cold. The ice isn’t like the stuff you know from winter. Underneath, it glistens blue or pink.

The roof, like most of the floors are powdered with snow, so you can keep up without slipping, and see Loki’s prints before you. They lead to a small suite of rooms at roof level, like private apartments, but with little in the way of furnishings. But Loki has gone from there already. Running down an outdoor stairway you think you see real snow coming in the air now and feel the wind rising, and then your slip though an archway into a darker chamber, less exposed but just as cold.

What will you do when you catch him? You would surely welcome one another’s heat, but there is nowhere here that is comfortable. You’ll get him back to the cottage, once you’ve got your hands on him.

Though you follow through a multitude of rooms, you notice you are no longer chasing but searching, the building seems to have a thousand rooms and staircases, avenues and hallways and all show his footprints, or yours.  It’s magnificent but somewhat eerie when you’re alone in it, this palace all cold and sparking under the moon.

He must be playing a game with you.  Hiding like this.  But really, it’s creepy, everywhere you meet ice mirrors or rooms with floors you can see through to the storeys below.

Perhaps he’s gone back to the cottage.

“Loki !” The name echos around you off the high ice walls, coming at you as though a handful of other women were wandering somewhere in these walls looking for him.

If only you could get back to the cottage under.  Though it must be close now, in the  complex of rooms leading one from the next, you can’t seem to get to it. Are you lost? You decide just to keep moving toward the exterior.  If you keep moving out and down you’ll be okay. Loki needs to understand that there’s a point when things cease to be funny. It’s as though the palace had continued to grow while were on your way downstairs. The stairway just leads to another passageway through the dark heart of this place.  You brush aside the feeling of panic and head for the glow of moonlight.

Finally you come out into a courtyard in a light flurry of snow. Real white snow falling from the sky. From the courtyard you are relieved to see the cottage again and although no light comes from its windows now but a cold purple glow, you head for it.

The interior silent and you sigh with relief at the warmth.  There’s nothing left of the fire and the only light is from the casket. And there’s Loki, finally, standing over it, a dark form against the glow.

“There you are!”  you cry.  But he doesn’t move or reply,

He’s bent slightly, a hand on the nearby wall where he must be channeling the energy.

“Loki?”

The figure turns. And though you can’t see much against the light you see straight away that it’s not Loki.

The scream is out of you before you even think it. The horror that fills you is worsened by the fact that you thought it was Loki. It’s not, it’s a monster.

 For Loki has summoned not just the ice powers of Jotenheim, but one of its creatures. Red eyes glow through the dark as you back away, screaming louder than you ever thought you were capable.

You yell at the monster to get back and run from the cottage. Outside in the snow you scream for Loki again. What has he done. Out here in the middle of nowhere. Then you hear the clumping step of the monster coming for you and you start to run.

TBC

[jf3co]

Down In Mexico

Article appears in the Summer 2019 issue of The Palisades Magazine & Issuu:

Mexico City. How do you cover one of the world’s largest cities in just 4 days? Take a deep breath, be prepared to walk… and let’s go!

Day 1 - The Travel Day is to wonder or worry, depending on your predispositions. I am slightly apprehensive before any foreign trip. And noting Mexico in the news a tiny bit recently, I plan to exercise good street smarts. I do not plan to (just a whimsical example) don a child’s costume bulletproof vest to fit a narrative of “scary place”. One shouldn’t look for trouble, but the same applies in any American city. I’ve been down in Mexico three times in as many years and have found a wonderful vacation destination each time.

You arrive at the Mexico City airport after flying over a sprawling metropolis. The mind boggles that this is only the 25th largest city in the world with a population of 8.8 million. It seems much larger. By contrast, Los Angeles has about 4 million. Clearing customs was simple. As was locating our hotel-provided driver. After a jaunt through traffic we arrive at our hotel, the Nima Local House in the Roma Norte Neighborhood. Again, simple.

Did you watch Roma? No? Go watch Roma. It was a happy coincidence this is the neighborhood featured in the movie. The streets are reminiscent of those in our older cities; Rittenhouse Square, Brooklyn Heights, Russian Hills (sans hills), Dupont Circle. And the streets are wide, grand tree-lined promenades crossed with a gridded layout. I fell in love with the walkability as we strolled to find some cocktails, eventually ducking into Licorería Limantour, a hipster hot spot.

Do you know Spanish? No? Mexico is our closest non-English-speaking country, and hey it doesn’t hurt to be neighborly... but if you do not, everyone speaks English. After a couple of "Margarita al Pastors” followed by a some “Mezcal Stalks”, proper cocktails at times served tongue-in-cheek in ridiculous vessels, though due to the drink itself I don’t remember them, I picked my head up off the bar to check out the locals; think fashionable. This is an old, cosmopolitan city full of art and culture; whereas I just got back from a business trip to Las Vegas and noted that the current fashion trend for US tourists is “freshly dumped out of a canoe”. One should bring their casual “A” game to Mexico City; men: button-down shirt (button one less than usual), nice jeans or pants, stylish shoes; women: think NYC in Spring, keeping in mind you will be walking a lot. Speaking of walking, we are going to be late to our dinner reservation. “La cuenta, por favor!” This will be your first double-take, a ‘twenty dollars in LA’ cocktail is only three bucks. Score one for the exchange rate.

Do you like when I start every paragraph with a question? No? I’ll stop. Dinner that evening was at Maycoll Calderón's Huset, a self-described “country kitchen” with a rustic indoor/outdoor space. Preceded by more craft mezcal cocktails, the entire meal was superb, having the gnocchi, grilled beef, chicken-ginger rice, and roasted vegetables. But I must note, regarding the steak, that the local interpretation of “medium rare” requires one to chase their dinner around the room a bit first; hot travel tip: order “medium” or above. We skipped dessert, as it was not a possibility given prior intake, and meandered the few blocks back to the hotel where we sat on the roof terrace enjoying the warm night air… that is until a screeching steam whistle announcing Death Incarnate punctuated the stillness, creeping ever closer; what the hell is it? I was not going to find out. Time to retreat to bed.

Day 2 - Zero Sleep. I am going to die. Did I magically catch the flu? Is the pollution really that bad? Apparently I am allergic to lilies. I did not quite know this until I spent the whole first night coughing and sneezing. And the room was charmingly decorated with them. But, once removed, all was well again. I did sleep late though, and this altered our plans so we missed out on the large art museums and grand parks; but this will only justify a future trip. We ended up taking an Uber to the Zócalo, the main square, and visited a street vendor for some Tlayudas Oaxaca, a masterpiece of grilled meat, veggies, and cheese on a large toasted flatbread. Then ambled over to the Templo Mayor, the main temple of the Mexicas in the city of Tenochtitlan; some fun facts: it was once referred to as "island of the dogs” because the elevation provided a safe haven for strays during flooding. It is also considered by the Aztecs to be the center of the known universe - sorry cat lovers.

You will now be thirsty from standing under the hot sun on the exposed square. You will go to the La Frapp rooftop for drinks. You will order a Model Negra with Orange Juice and Tequila. You will send me a thank you note later.

After the beverage constitutional, another Uber to the La Condensa neighborhood, full of Art Deco apartments and a large park. The Parque España (formally Parque General San Martín) will subtly remind that you are in a warm, jungle environment with it’s lush greenery and hanging mosses. We wandered and admired and then found ourselves at Milos for a mezcal break. While in CDMX, drink mezcal, drink tequila… they are health drinks. Don’t believe me? Google it.

After some miles we made it back to our neighborhood for dinner at Taqueria Orinoco. This is no frills. But it’s TACOS! East as many as you possibly can. Order the tres proteínas for a combination of trompo (al pastor), res (steak), and chicharrón (pork belly). Wash them down with a few Superior Cervezas. Then request someone roll you over to Churrería El Moro for a paquetes combination of Mexican hot chocolate and churros. We sat idly on a park bench along Avenue Álvaro Obregón, swinging our legs, enjoying the passersby and warm night air.

Time for bed… one again the Locomotive of Death slowly approaches. I dream fitfully of stone and stairs and feathered warriors as I stand at the nexus of the earth, the sky, and... the underworld.

Day 3 - More Annoying Uses for Plastics, and The Aztecs versus the Oxfords. We awake to a quick breakfast in the atrium of our hotel - making a commitment to reverse engineer their roasted pepper salsa recipe. Then hop in an Uber to head to the Aztec pyramids. We are in a hurry. It’s the free day for locals and we want to beat the crowd.

The pyramids are sublime. Works of permanence and precision laid out with obsessive specificity seldom rivaled the world over. The crude plastic jaguar and hawk noisemakers that every third person is selling to bored children by the thousand are not. The location is jarring with annoying noise. This is probably the reason there are no more actual jaguars or hawks in the area. Scared away. There’s too many people here. Too much plastic. Too many failed attempts at trumpeting a catcall or hawks’ screech. I was struck by the juxtaposition of laborious achievement against cheap novelty, just as I was by the fact that Oxford University is older than the founding of Tenochtitlán by the Mexica; humans seem to have both a sliding scale of antiquity alongside the inability to contemplate the longevity of their particular contributions.

We return to CDMX and hit the Juárez neighborhood to eat at Contramar, an airy, popular lunch spot. We ordered tuna tostados, a Serrano ham omelet made with French fries and cheese, and shrimp & octopus tacos; get the tostado, devour the omelet (and make it at home during every single meal for the rest of your life), skip the tacos. Afterward, we decided to visit one of the many parklet traffic circles to idly watch the world revolve and sip a few beers at La Zaranda Miravalle.

Cabrera 7 was our dinner. The decor is garden party and pop art. The view is of Plaza Luis Cabrera with it’s large fountain in across the street. Food was good. Portions were great. But we were simply not in the mood. Too much walking. Too much overindulging. It would be a disservice to describe anything further - we simply didn’t eat. Go there only when you are hungry.

At this point we plod the streets back to our hotel. Stuffed like Piñata. Catatonic. Directionless. We feel a distinct pull toward life and vitality; Gravity beckons us toward Plaza Rio De Janeiro where there is a gala Oscar viewing party. Alfonso Cuarón is up for Roma, the semi-autobiographical tale of life in this neighborhood during the early 70’s “Dirty War” period. Roma ended up winning 3 Oscars and the place absolutely exploded with jubilation each time; Best Director, Foreign Language Film, Best Cinematography. Congrats to Cuarón. Congrats to Roma Norte. Congrats to Mexico. We celebrated in our own way back at the hotel with a wine from Valle De Guadalupe (Mexico has a wine country. It is fantastic. You can drive there from LA) and a viewing of Roma. En route we accidentally identified Whistling Death, himself - not the soul-stealer of lore, but the Camotes Cart man slinging a confections of sweet potato and plantains. We ran smack into his cart on our way back to the hotel. I am told the whistle is the sound of childhood to a lot of locals, and not a harbinger of corporeal impermanence. I don’t see it.

Day 4 - Goodbye to Roma Norte… We awake on our last day and head to Toscano Roma for breakfast. Notable was the beet, orange, raspberry smoothie - I now put beets in smoothies at home. One last idle stroll. And off to the airport. See you next time, Mexico City. There’s so much to see. So much I missed. I will definitely be back. If only to dress well, admire the architecture, sample the haute cuisine, and practice my Spanish, in a grand city chock full of life, vitality, art and culture.

Links:

Nima Local House - http://nimalocalhousehotel.com/

Roma Norte - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colonia_Roma#Roma_Norte_I

Licoria Limantour - https://www.yelp.com/biz/limantour-m%C3%A9xico-5

Huset - http://www.huset.mx/

Zocalo - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Z%C3%B3calo

La Frapp - https://www.facebook.com/pages/category/Coffee-Shop/La-Frapp-356500598031678/

Parque Espana - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parque_Espa%C3%B1a

Milos - https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g150800-d2297923-Reviews-Milo_s_Bistro-Mexico_City_Central_Mexico_and_Gulf_Coast.html

Taqueria Orinoco - http://www.taqueriaorinoco.com/

El Moro - http://elmoro.mx/

Teotihuacan aka “The Pyramids” - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teotihuacan

Contramar - http://www.contramar.com.mx/

La Zaranda Miravalle -

Cabrera 7 -

Plaza Rio De Janeiro - https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plaza_R%C3%ADo_de_Janeiro

Cafe Toscano Roma - https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g150800-d3251109-Reviews-Cafe_Toscano-Mexico_City_Central_Mexico_and_Gulf_Coast.html

Down in Mexico, The Coasters - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebl5Sx4zqYw