#my hiatus is over. settling into a new space is just taking longer than i thought it would. i am sorry for my absence!

[twcheaded-a]

After I do homework I will be here, truly

[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!

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ @kb-bangtanenthusiast @un2-verse​ @ddaechwita​ @taegularities​ @secretlycrazyhummingbird​ @ataraxia-98​ @hantaev​ 

my permanent taglist is open! contact me if you would like to be notified whenever I post new stories💜

[twistsandtwizzles]

First Kiss #3: Turning Onto You

Author's Note: This is the last story I got through before real life so rudely burst my fic-writing bubble. I'm taking a little hiatus from writing fic but will still be around to talk all things skating. (And also I do still have the other prompts and hope to get to them someday!) Thanks for reading and sending in prompts for the challenge!

Prompt: Mariah catches some feelings and makes the first move on a surprised Nathan

She doesn’t tell Nathan about Romain until it’s all over, her ring finger bare and dark circles under her eyes. She rehearsed it on the plane ride back from France, wanting to sound steady and fair, to allow space for Nathan and Romain’s friendship - even if it’s more than her ex deserves at the moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nathan asks. 

She shrugs. “He’s your friend, you know? I didn’t want to put you in a weird place.”

“Okay, but . . . you’re my friend. It wouldn’t have been weird - I would have been here. You know that, right?”

She does, but it is nice to hear him say it anyway.

A few weeks later, Mariah has to almost physically restrain him from helping her move. It’s sweet, she supposes, but also exasperating.  

“I would never be able to show myself at a rink again if Nathan Chen pulled a muscle trying to lift my couch,” she tells him. “I’m hiring movers, we’ve got it handled.”

Of course, he shows up anyway, with McDonalds for her and pizza for the movers. She thanks him and then shuts herself in the bathroom and cries, touched by his thoughtfulness and infinitely grateful not to have to go through the day alone.

That night, standing in her new living room surrounded by boxes, she tells him that she hadn’t realized just how much she needed this fresh start, a home where she won’t picture Romain at every turn. He slings an arm around her shoulder and says that he thinks the place feels like her.

Nathan doesn’t push her to go back to the rink, but the delighted smile he gives her when she walks back in after nearly a month immediately calms her nerves. He sticks close to her that day - she’s guessing he wasn’t intending to spend the session just working on spins and footwork - and she’s grateful for his calm presence as she gets her feet back under her.

There had been a small part of her worried that their friendship wouldn’t be able to bridge the gap that Romain had left, despite Nathan’s assurances; she had wondered if Romain had been right when he joked that he was the glue that held them all together. She’s relieved to find that this, at least, is one thing she did not need to worry about. That she and Nathan are the same as they have always been.

Except, if she’s being honest, that is not exactly true.

She first realizes it as they are settling in for one of their semi-regular movie nights. He is absently scratching Nala’s head with one hand and clicking through the titles on the screen with the other, one dark curl falling across his forehead, brow furrowed in concentration. 

She is unprepared for the warmth that suddenly fills her chest as she watches him.

He senses her staring, looks over at her. “What?”

She blinks, shakes her head. “Nothing. Find the movie already, gosh.”

“You’re just going to fall asleep anyway,” he mutters. “Not sure what the rush is.”

She tosses a throw pillow at him, and he laughs, and her traitorous stomach explodes in butterflies. She sinks back into her corner of the couch. 

Well, shit.

—

For a while, she tells herself that she is imagining things. That she and Nathan are friends, have always been just friends, and she is getting contentment confused with something else. She certainly does not have a crush on Nathan, of all people. 

And her heart doesn’t occasionally skip a beat when he shoots her a half-smile after Raf says something that they’ll make fun of him for later, and she never finds herself lingering in their goodbye hugs just a bit longer than she used to. Never fights the urge to call him just to hear his voice.

Really.

They are chatting on the bench as he changes out of his skates. Nathan’s frustrated with his lutz, annoyed with Raf, and she’s relieved that she’s able to coax a laugh out of him before he takes off for the day. She steps onto the ice, still smiling a little, and finds Adam watching her.

“Oh my god,” he says. “Well, this is an exciting twist.”

“What?” She busies herself with some arm circles, already feeling the color creeping into her cheeks.

Adam leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “You and Nathan. You like him.”

“Stop,” she says, trying to keep her voice even. “I do not.” 

“Oh my god,” he says again. “You’re blushing! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. When did this start? This is great for you. I’ve told you a hundred times, you’ve gotta get under someone to get over someone.”

She smacks him on the shoulder. “No one is getting under anyone, because nothing is going on.”

“Well why not? The poor guy’s been in love with you since he was a teenager. Throw him a bone.”

“He has not,” Mariah says reflexively. “Don’t be silly.”

Adam is suddenly serious. “Mariah. You have to know that Nathan is crazy about you, right? If there’s something there, why don’t you say something?”

She tilts her head back and stares at the rink ceiling for a moment. “Okay,” she sighs. “Let’s say I have been having some . . . feelings.” 

Adam nods. “Which I have said, because it’s true.”

“If - that’s if - it is true, there’s too much on the line to do anything about it. I need to have a decent Grand Prix to have a shot at the Olympics, and I already got a late start to training this year because of my messed up personal life. And you know what this season means for Nathan. If I said or did something and screwed things up, for either of us, I’d never forgive myself.”

“So your plan is what, exactly?”

“Basically just ignore it until it goes away?” 

Adam lets out a long suffering sigh. “And force me to watch you two idiots flirt and pine everyday for months? This is a terrible plan.”

“Asking you to coach me was a terrible plan,” she grumbles.

He laughs. “Girl, I am doing you a favor and you know it. Now let’s get to work.”

She rolls her eyes and skates toward center ice. Adam shouts after her, “For the record, I actually think it would help! You’re both wound so tight you’re going to pop!”

She holds up her middle finger as she waits for her music to start.

—-

Adam is right, though she’ll never tell him that. Ignoring her feelings is not a viable strategy. So more out of self preservation than anything else, she starts to steer clear of situations where it is just the two of them. And since Nathan is juggling about a hundred Olympic promo shoots and interviews with his training anyway, she’s fairly certain that he hasn’t even noticed.

She’s on her way out of the rink when she hears him call her name. His voice echoes a bit in the empty hallway. “Mariah, hang on a minute.”

He’s jogging to catch up with her, still in his skates and guards. She turns, waits for him to reach her. “What’s up?”

“Um.” He seems suddenly uncertain. “You’ve just . . . rushed out the last few days, so I wanted to check in. Are things okay?”

“Oh.” She adjusts the bag on her shoulder, doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine. I just have -“

“Plans,” he finishes for her. “Yeah.” He shifts his weight a bit uneasily, adds, “It feels like it’s been awhile since we hung out.”

“I know,” she says. As always, he’s more observant than she gives him credit for. She reaches up and gives him a soft squeeze on the shoulder. “Movie night soon, okay?”

He nods, and she turns to leave. 

”Do you have a date?” he asks suddenly.

She laughs, surprised. “What? No.”

He looks sheepish. “You’ve just had lots of plans lately and you haven’t really said what they were, and I thought maybe - nevermind.”

Something stirs in her chest, and she can’t stop herself from asking, “What if I did have a date?”

“Then you’d be going on a date, I guess,” he says. “I don’t know. Whatever.” 

“Whatever,” she repeats, suddenly annoyed. “Okay, sure. So if it would just be whatever, why did you even ask?” 

“I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t, now.” He runs a hand through his hair, lets out a frustrated breath. “I should get back to practice.”

But she is unwilling to let this go. “So if I was seeing someone, it wouldn’t bother you at all?”

“No! I mean, I don’t know.”

“Stop saying you don’t know!” The volume at which she says those words takes them both aback. She takes a deep breath and looks down at her shoes. This is ridiculous. She’s acting like a teenager.

“I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s not that.” 

“What, then? I feel like I’m missing something, here, Mariah, and it sucks. You’ve been avoiding me, and I miss you, and -”

She kisses him. 

It’s not perfect. She’s failed to correctly factor in the extra height that his skates give him, so her angle is a bit off. And she still has her stupid bag on her shoulder, which swings into his side as she leans into him. But it takes him just a moment to recover from his surprise, his hands circling her waist and lifting her the fraction of an inch needed for him to deepen the kiss, and then she can’t remember why she was fighting so hard to not let this happen.

He pulls away first, looking a bit dazed. For a moment they are both speechless.

“So here’s the thing,” she says. “I have wanted to do that for weeks.”

His lips quirk upward. “So you don’t want to plead temporary insanity and run away?”

She shakes her head. “But I know the timing is terrible, so if you would prefer that we just pretended that it never happened, I’d understand.”

He tips her chin up with a finger and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is gentle but sure, and she can feel them crossing a bridge to something new. 

Eventually, they will talk. He will confess the years that he spent dreaming of her one night when he thinks she is already asleep; she will tell him that she loves him as they drive to the rink on an otherwise unremarkable December morning. They will laugh and they will fight and they will skate and they will figure this out, their new normal.

Today, though, he just smiles and says, “I really do have to get back. Raf is going to be so pissed.”

He gives her one more quick kiss and heads back down the hallway. He turns and calls, “Hey, you don’t really have plans tonight, do you?”

“I better have some now!” she yells back, laughing. 

He grins. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 06

<= Chapter 5

Summary : Lukas gets to have a heart-to-heart discussion with an absolute asshole. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/81015496

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

AAAAH I'M SORRY FOR THE TWO MONTHS HIATUS I HAD A WRITER BLOCK---

Anyway uuuh, new chapter, I have no idea if it's good or not but still, here it is. I did my best to offer you a longer chapter as a compensation, it's twice the length of the last one.

Happy reading ! Thank you for waiting all this time.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 6 - “Oh. It’s you.”

The rest of the day had been… Quite blurry for the student. After coming back home, he had sat down at his desk, staring into space for… Minutes, hours, he hadn’t been able to tell. It was an understatement to say that he was in shock after what had happened. Even after everything, his mind couldn’t help but think this was just a joke, or that he had imagined the whole thing. But the script in his bag was a proof of the contrary. For a good while, the young man hadn’t found the courage to look back at it, as if it were some sort of cursed object, haunting him. But then, the Conductor’s words came back to him: “learn your text by tomorrow”. An order, a clear one, coming from one of his bosses. The student shivered as he remembered, soon bringing his hands to his face, massaging his closed, tired eyes. Oh, boy, why did he always get in that kind of situation… Even when he was a kid, he would often get dragged in things like this. He had thought this would get better as he grew up, but noooo, of fucking course it wouldn’t. Lukas let out a loud, long, exaggerated sigh, and stood up. He walked to his sofa bed all while dragging his feet and, once he was in front of it, it was like what was left of his energy left him. What a day . With another sigh, the student felt his body fall forward, and it wasn’t long before his face hit one of his pillows. Air was forced out of his lungs by the impact, though he did nothing but grunt in the fabric. Him? An actor? This couldn’t be right, this just… It wasn’t right. Sure, MJ was a jerk, but he still had the skills and the experience! In comparison, Lukas was just a law student- not a bad one, mind you, which only made it even more surprising to see him getting the role. It wasn’t like he had chosen the wrong scholar path, no, on the contrary, he was skilled in his major. But apparently, his bosses had seen something else deep inside that walking shell of anxiety… -“Uuuuugh...” his voice was low and tired. For a moment, he thought he was almost going to fall asleep like this, still wearing his clothes, but he reluctantly sat down. With a look full of weariness and unwillingness, the student’s attention went back to his bag, in which the script was. He didn’t want to learn the lines, and a single glance at his desk full of homework was a good way to understand why. But it seemed like his paycheck was now depending on it, as much as he would have preferred to remain a stagehand… -“Guess I don’t have a choice…” he mumbled, before moving his foot to reach for the bag, making it slide towards him, so he could open it. He supposed that he would be able to scribble down the answers to his homework during his lunch break… Or, at least, he hoped. And so, the young man spent the next two hours learning his lines, saying them out loud, so he could remember them. A good thing about his brain was that it learned pretty well from words and sounds. Thus, by saying them out loud, Lukas was pretty efficient in remembering them. Plus, truth to be told, those lines weren’t exactly as hard to learn as his law books… Not that it was a bad thing, far from it. At least, it made his job far easier. However, he wasn’t going to lie, there were a few parts that were harder to remember. Once he was done, the student hesitated on whether he should go to sleep (the reasonable option) or try to get some of his homework done. Sure, he was pretty tired, and the day had been filled by a lot of diverse emotions… But part of him knew he just wouldn’t be able to fall asleep knowing what awaited him the day after. He had always been very anxious, this was a secret to no one, and especially not himself… However, this whole thing was very new, and it made it all worse. And so… The student ended up staying up late until three in the morning, managing to get most of his homework done. One of the perks of being good at a subject was being fast. Of course, this would have given him much better results if he had worked on it seriously, without all the tiredness and all, but the context wasn’t really allowing him that.

Thus, Lukas packed up his college stuff for the next day and soon went to sleep for one very short night. Oh, well, not his first, far from it. Thankfully, he had a few sleeping meds he had kept from an old treatment, allowing him to fall asleep rather quick. However, this always came at a price- they made waking up a much more difficult moment, as his body was still very much under the influence of the medicine when that happened. And the next morning… Was no exception, especially since he only got to sleep for less than three hours. Fighting the urge to go back to sleep, Lukas managed to get up and prepare himself for college. New clothes, brushing his hair and teeth… It only took him a moment until he was ready to leave his small apartment. Oh, his face, however… It looked like it belonged to a rotten corpse, who had just come back to life… Somewhat. The trip to college was pretty ordinary, and so was his morning and afternoon, actually. He gave his teachers all the papers that were due, he aced one of his oral presentation despite looking like a dead man… No, really, this day was going well, which was surprising considering he was mostly surviving thanks to coffee and to the fear of collapsing in public. Yeah, no, he didn’t want any attention on him… Which was a funny thing to think about, because this was exactly what he was going to get with his new job! Once his classes were over, Lukas took the bus to his workplace, dread settling on his shoulders, heavier and heavier as the minutes passed. Oh, he didn’t want to get that role… Of course, he could tell his bosses, but there was a small part of him, deep down, that was curious about where this would lead him. Now, obviously, being a stagehand was a pretty classic job, one without risks… But this? While he was terrified of screwing up, especially since people would be looking at him… Yeah, there was something that prevented him from refusing this promotion. And, also, if that could piss MJ off, then it was a good bonus. The studio reception was calm compared to the day before and, for a moment, just a small moment, the student thought his shift was going to be nice. But ooh, no, he couldn’t have nice things- the moment he opened the door leading to the staff areas, he winced as many voices echoed around him. They were coming from all directions, through walls, doors too! It was a large cacophony in there, and people were running around, carrying stuff and bringing props for each shooting. Actions movies, dramas, comedies… Each type had its own part of the studio, but there was this central room linking them all together and, oh, this place was just a battlefield. Moving fast through the agitated crowd, Lukas tried to reach his accredited part of the studio- the children shows shootings. Avoiding props almost falling on his feet accidentally, sneaking between people carrying hot coffee, and bending down to avoid planks being carried around… He bumped into someone just before he got to open the door leading to his area. -“Oh, I- I’m sorry,” he stammered, quickly moving back, so he could apologize properly to the person he had bumped into. However, his eyes widened when he recognized the figure in front of him. Mike! The good twin. For a second, the latter’s face had alarmed him, as he thought he had bumped into MJ instead… But thankfully, while having the same face, the two brothers had very different hairstyles and fashion choices. The student let out a sigh- phew, he wasn’t sure he would have been ready for MJ’s bullshit right at the beginning of his shift. -“Oh, hey!” Mike seemed almost as surprised as he was, though his expression quickly changed to a warm, welcoming one: “Good to see you again- oh, wait, let’s, uh… Get inside,” he then mumbled, opening the door quickly so they both could leave the absolute war zone they were in. Lukas didn’t lose any time and followed the other like a shadow would, only getting the opportunity to sigh in relief as they found themselves in a much quieter place. Kinda ironic that the children shows part of the

studio was calmer than the staff hall... -“Hey,” he finally replied, now that the “battlefield” was behind them: “It’s good to see you too,” he answered trustfully, with a smile. He hadn’t seen the other since MJ’s outburst the day before, and getting the chance to meet him again was a good way of making Lukas’ day a little better and… Less chaotic. -“How are you?” he then asked, deciding to take a moment for a conversation with his only friend in the studio so far. Plus, he was… Worried. With what had happened the day before, and how MJ had thrown Mike’s puppet on the floor like it was nothing, he wanted to make sure everything was okay. -“Oh, I’m… Doing fine,” the other looked away with an awkward smile, which was an obvious sign that things had definitely happened yesterday. With how furious the actor had been when leaving the shooting, Lukas could very well imagine the latter taking his frustration on his brother. What an asshole. But, it was family business, and he couldn’t say anything about it, as a stranger. -“What about you?” Mike added quickly, visibly determined on changing the topic: “I heard you got the role, yesterday. Congrats!” The praise took the student by surprise, and he felt his cheeks reddening from the embarrassment. Oh, man, this was new, yeah… He wasn’t used to that kind of thing. His stance tensed up, and a sheepish smile took place on his lips. -“Oh, uh… Thanks,” he blurted out, and it was his turn to look away: “It’s… Really weird, I guess I’m just… Feeling a bit shocked, you know?” he turned his head back to his new friend and a nervous giggle escaped him. He was fidgeting, not really knowing how to respond to that. -“Ah, yeah, it’s your first time,” Mike nodded, remembering that Lukas had first been hired as a stagehand, not as an actor: “Don’t worry, children shows are the perfect way to start as a beginner. You know, with the public being less critical and all… I’m sure you’ll get used to it in no time.” The puppet maker was kind, trying to reassure Lukas and ease his anxiety. Too bad that his stage fight was skyrocketing since the moment he had stepped in the building again… Another nervous giggle left his lips, and he started to rub his arm, not knowing what to do with his hands. -“I suppose so…” he muttered, still smiling, though it looked less genuine: “It’s just that… I mean… Why me? I’m just a guy who wanted a part-time job. I’m not an actor, I don’t have any experience…” -“Well, from what I’ve heard, you were pretty good yesterday- oh, speaking about that…” Mike’s face darkened, as if he had just remember to mention something unpleasant: “I think you should… Avoid MJ, as much as you can, from now on. My brother, he’s… He didn’t take it well, I’m not gonna lie, and… I mean, you saw how he is with people, he’s not the best at being with others. Now, with what happened yesterday, I don’t think he’ll make your life any easier.” The student grimaced as he listened to his friend. Yeah… Yeah, he had seen that coming. With how livid MJ had been when leaving the set, it wasn’t surprising that the latter was going to make his shifts hell. God, he really hoped he would manage to avoid that jerk… -“Yeah, I… Kinda expected that,” he admitted, tilting his head to the side with a wince: “But, uh… Since he’s not part of the team anymore, I shouldn’t run too much into him… Right?” -“I wish I’d say yes, but…” Mike answered, his face showing conflict: “He has some other roles in the studio, and he might come see me now and then, so… Yeah. Be careful and do your best to avoid him. He’s not… The best person to be around when he’s like this.” “Oh, you mean all the time, then?” Lukas thought to himself, but kept his mouth shut. Not the best thing to say out loud, especially when it came to said person’s twin. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why Mike was making so many efforts for someone that clearly didn’t deserve them… But, then again, he was a stranger, it wasn’t his place to say anything. -“Will do,” he assured his friend, before looking at his watch and- oh, shit, he was going to

be late. Apparently, it must have been visible from his expression, because the puppet maker let out a soft giggle: -“Oh, yeah, it’s time,” he looked up, as if he were trying to remember something: “Last time I saw the Conductor and DJ Grooves, they were in the conference room with some investors. You should go practice in the meantime… My workshop is open, if you want,” he offered with a shrug: “It’s a small room, but I’m normally the only one there, so if you wanna have some quiet, alone time to rehearse, well… I need to help the stagehands for some set repairs, so I won’t bother you.” The offer was a really nice attention, another one that did help to make Lukas’ day a little better. Considering his promotion, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to help the other stagehands while waiting for his bosses, but… Well, practicing really wouldn’t hurt, especially considering how short his night had been. -“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” he gave Mike a warm smile, before pointing to a door on the other side of the room: “It’s this one, right?” he asked for confirmation. -“Yep, that’s the one! Just, uh… Please don’t touch anything, most of the puppets and costumes aren’t done, so they’re quite fragile.” Lukas assured him he wouldn’t, and even then, he didn’t have any reason to. At least, contrary to his friend’s twin, he knew how to respect someone’s work… And with that, the two waved to one another, before heading to opposite directions. The student walked to the door with a quick pace, wanting to get as much time as possible to practice. When he opened it, he was surprised to see that, yeah, the room was pretty small indeed, even smaller than what he had imagined. The place was full of puppets hanging from the ceiling, and the walls were covered in eccentric and colorful clothes. It was almost eye straining! Two out of the four corners of the rooms were used to stock supplies and different types of fabric, making the room even smaller than it originally was. Then, hidden in the third corner was a desk with a sewing machine on top of it. It looked like an old but durable one, the kind that would last years even if it was out-of-date. Other than that, the desk was full of smaller supplies, like needles, sewing threads, pens, pieces of paper, templates… It was like this room had no free space other than the center of it. Well, Lukas supposed this is where he would rehearse, then. Not like there were many other option… The young man closed the door behind him and made a few steps, his eyes looking all around him. He didn’t think it was possible to fit so many things in a single room, but, hey, he was wrong! He then shook his head- it was time to work. After clearing his throat, the student opened his bag and took the script out, flipping the pages up to the parts he had the most trouble remembering. Oh, jeez, he really was doing this, wasn’t he? This was so weird… But whatever paid his bills and his studies, he guessed. And so… He got to work. It was a lot easier to practice when there was no one around. No one to judge him, no one to mock him when he fucked up… Yeah, it made it all easier. Sure, he didn’t have any experience in it, but at least he had to admit it was pretty fun. Nonetheless, he still had no idea why the two directors chose him over an experienced actor like MJ… Like, of course he had noticed the latter was a huge asshole, but other than that, his acting skills were obvious. Maybe he was being used to give MJ a lesson…? This seemed like the most probable explanation. After all, MJ’s presence in the casting was supposed to bring attention to the show… And now, one of the most important roles had been given to a nobody instead. It didn’t seem like a good idea, marketing-wise. Law was his specialty, but that didn’t mean he was stupid when it came to other things. Lukas couldn’t believe he had been chosen for his “talents”, because he had none on that field. After a moment, he paused his practice, shutting his eyes and letting out an exaggerated sigh. Shit, this was distracting him. He couldn’t focus

on his lines. His acting skills, if he had any, were affected by it. It was like something was entering his mind from one side only to disappear through another. Memorizing the words was harder than he had thought it would be the day before, and he couldn’t help but grunt in frustration. Fuck, he knew he was able to remember those lines, he had learned much more complex texts before! This script was simple, so the young man put the blame on his short night of sleep. Furthermore, it was hard to memorize something only by starting the day before… He was about to start again when he heard the door opening behind him, cutting him short. The student turned to the direction of the noise, expecting to see Mike’s face and… Well, in a way, he kinda did. Except it wasn’t Mike. It was MJ, the evil twin. “Oh, fuck me,” he thought, paling up. For fuck’s sake, right after Mike told him to avoid his brother! Was it a joke or something?! Before he even got the chance to speak, MJ’s expression changed from a neutral one to one of utter disgust. Yeah, clearly, the other had expected to see his twin, but… Nope, Lukas had been the one in the room. “Lesson learned, never going back in that workshop alone,” the student told himself, though it was way too late to do anything about it. -“Oh. It’s you,” the actor spat, this time not trying to keep his nice mask on like he had been when they had met the day before: “The fuck are you doing here?” The celebrity’s eyes were glaring at him, all while examining him from top to bottom. It was… Very unpleasant, to be stared at this way. And being talked to like that? Yeah, no, Lukas was perhaps a shy person, but he didn’t want to let anyone walk all over him, especially not an asshole like MJ. Usually, he tended to flee conflict, but today was different. He was way too tired to deal with this shit. -“Yes , hello to you too,” he muttered as an answer, quickly putting his attention back to the script: “Your brother’s not here, but he told me I could use the room in the meantime.” Apparently, his tone didn’t please the actor, whose eyes narrowed in response: -“No kidding, I can see my brother’s not here, dumbass,” he shrugged and rolled his eyes: “I’m not blind.” Oooh, the insult didn’t fall on deaf ears, and it really rubbed Lukas the wrong way. He turned to the celebrity again, this time returning the latter’s glare: -“Well, good for you, I guess,” the student spoke louder than his previous mutter. His annoyance was much more visible, though he still remained polite: “If you’re looking for Mike, he’s with the stagehands.” -“Didn’t ask,” the actor retorted harshly. The other’s eyes then fell on the script, and his expression darkened. Well, shit, this couldn’t be good- and, just like Lukas had predicted, it wasn’t. MJ’s look of hatred was soon replaced by a mocking yet salty expression, one that the student really didn’t like. -“Aw, am I interrupting something?” the celebrity taunted him, leaning against the door frame as a smirk took place on his lips. -“Actually, yes. You are,” Lukas’ patience was running out. God, he wanted to punch that guy so bad… Well, not like he would ever do that, he wasn’t that kind of person. Still, the urge was there. In response to his honest words, the actor scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes again. God, that fucking asshole… -“What, don’t tell me you honestly think you have what it takes!” MJ’s tone had changed from a mocking one to a harsher, meaner one: “You have no idea how to play a role- lemme guess, you never had any theater courses before, hm?” At Lukas’ silence, the celebrity snickered bitterly: -“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re just a nobody, a guy who happened to be there at the right time. But you, an actor? Don’t make me laugh. You don’t know shit about acting.” Okay, now that was enough. Politeness was nice and all, but with this guy? No, nu-huh, nope, not happening. In an instant, Lukas’ attempts at remaining civil were thrown away through a window. No one could talk to him like that, and not even his anxiety was

going to silence him. -“Oh, I don’t know shit about acting, that’s right,” he talked back, his tone much more aggressive: “But at least I know how to be a decent person.” -“Excuse me?” MJ’s face showed a mix of bewilderment and fury, probably because no one ever confronted him like this in the past: “I didn’t steal someone else’s job!” -“Hah, that’s rich!” the student scoffed, raising his arms with a scandalized expression: “You lost your job! I didn’t do anything!” his voice echoed in the room as his anger intensified: “If you weren’t such an asshole, maybe you’d have kept your place in the-” However, the student didn’t even get the time to finish his sentence. The celebrity had dashed towards him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, bringing their face close as an intimidating gesture: -“Watch your fucking mouth,” was the warning he got from the other, whose eyes were fixed on his: “There are so many things I could do to make your life a living Hell. I have a lot of strings I can pull, and if I were you, I wouldn’t risk that,” the actor’s voice had got lower, like a murmur, a clear threat directed to him. But Lukas was just getting so fucking tired of it. Enough was enough. He grabbed the celebrity’s hand and pulled it away, forcing the latter to let go of him. -“So, let me get this straight: you want to destroy me because I pointed out how much of a jerk you were to everyone? And you still think you’re the decent person out of us two? You might want to rethink that, buddy.” The response he got was yet another glare, though this time there was no spiky answer. “Of course I’m right, asshole, can’t say anything back, now, can you?” he thought to himself, pride swelling inside him. Man, this was perhaps the first argument he ever won… Holy shit, yeah, it was- and he didn’t even stutter! Maybe he needed to be tired more often- yeah, no, that wasn’t a good idea. Air was forced out of his lungs as he was pushed away, though despite the fear of being punched, it never came. The look of pure hatred he was getting from MJ was almost burning him and, for a moment, he really thought he would get attacked- being someone who had never fought anyone, he wasn’t really confident about his abilities to fight back. But all MJ did was to step back to the door, a furious expression written all over his face: -“You wanna play that game with me?” he spat: “Fine. But mark my words, stagehand, I will win.” And not even giving Lukas the time to retort anything, the actor stormed off the room and slammed the door behind him. It screamed “ I am mad, and I want everyone to know that”. Lukas, however, did not give a single fuck about it. Perhaps it was the tiredness speaking (and it was), but if the other wanted to fight, then Lukas would be ready. Well, he probably wouldn’t in hindsight, once his mind cleared up… But at the moment, the young man’s anger was making him blind to many aspects. One of them being that MJ was a famous person who was indeed capable of destroying him, and making him fail his studies with just the right calls. But this wasn’t something Lukas would realize before calming down. And only then, he would ask himself “why the hell couldn’t I keep my mouth shut like usual?!” Until that moment… The student kept rehearsing, though his anger prevented him from actually anything. Today was going to be a long day…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hopefully Lukas won't have too much trouble with this jerk of an actor :)c (who I love with all my heart)

=> Chapter 7

[grimelords]

So since the last time I posted one of these the entire world has changed dramatically and hopefully 4 hours of music will tide you over in quarantine for a bit longer. Strangely I’ve been busier than ever, and what started as a personal challenge to listen to a new album every day in February turned into me listening to 116 new albums in March and 124 in April. I’ve got a stacked google doc full of star ratings and dates now and it’s really been a lot of fun, I highly recommend trying it yourself. This is my March playlist, because I accidentally took a month off, and I’m thinking of either switching these playlists to weekly to make them a little more digestible or just dropping them whenever. Who knows. Let me know what you think and drop album recommendations in the comments please.

Listen here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0k1JjT8fXcUFO6VpM3kaez?si=gWSv88vdShKSnHhLJ_80pQ

If you’d like to receive these playlists in a more digestible email format, please subscribe to my tinyletter here: http://tinyletter.com/grimelords

On A Slow Boat To China - Bing Crosby & Peggy Lee: Ok first off it’s amazing this song isn’t more racist. I don't remember now how or why I came across this. I think I was just thinking about crooners and how as a genre it's now existed in common popularity as a nostalgic idyll of a mytholigised past far longer than it was ever actually popular which is interesting. The origin of this song, according to wikipedia, is also one of the most 40s ideas I've ever read: "I'd like to get you on a slow boat to China" was a well-known phrase among poker players, referring to a person who lost steadily and handsomely. The idea being that a "slow boat to China" was the longest trip one could imagine. Loesser moved the phrase to a more romantic setting, yet it eventually entered general parlance to mean anything that takes an extremely long time".

Fight Night - Migos: I saw that Offset had some new show on Quibi the extremely fake sounding streaming service and I thought "how did Migos get so world conqueringly large that they get to make 10 minute shows nobody will watch for a $2 billion venture capital funded app that will never make any money?" They seem to have this massive reputation without having much to back it up. The last thing I remember everyone talking about was how Culure II was two hours long in order to game streaming numbers and was simply not good. They seemed to have sort of settled into making background music for scrolling instagram. But then I remembered Fight Night and I thought: "oh wait, that's right, Migos are fucking great". Where their other big hits like Bad And Boujee and Walk It Talk It have this sort of laid back vibe where they've comfortably nailed the formula and relax onto it, Fight Night commands your attention. StackboyTwan killed the beat - it has this propulsive momentum where it feels like it's constantly ramping up, moving up from the sidesick and bassline in the verse, up to the claps on the beat, and the big gang chants on the offbeat once the full instrumentation kicks in - then it just goes around and around and around with the constant bassline the whole tim. It's a perfect all-rise production because it never actually explodes, it's all building tension held down by an unchanging bassline.

Do It Puritan! - El Hombre Trajeado & Sue Tompkins: I am extremely delighted to announce that Sue Tompkins of one of my all time favourite single album bands Life Without Buildings has broken a nearly 20 year musical hiatus to appear on this song by El Hombre Trajeado. It is so nice to hear how her voice has changed and her approach has stayed the same. Her style is so unique and so good and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it.

5 8 6 - New Order: Before 'the incident' I had tickets to see New Order at the end of March and so I embarked on a big listen through of their discography, which has now unfortunately made it feel even worse that live music is cancelled indefinitely.

Oom Sha La La - Haley Heynderickx: First of all I love songs where they talking about how they're writing a song halfway through. And I love songs that seem like a pretty normal singer songwriter indie thing where someone just starts screaming near the end. I love this song. A great staring at the wall and absolutely losing your mind because you haven't done anything with your whole life anthem.

Elektrobank - The Chemical Brothers: Can you believe I've never listening to a full Chemical Brothers album before this month? Can you believe big beat ever went our of style? It feels insane that we ever swapped this sort of energy for the beige algorithm of EDM. I think there's a real triumph in this album, and in this track especially of replicating the live feeling in studio. Giving it this much space to grow and change and get very hairy near the end is amazing, it feels like it was just recorded live.

My Mind's A Ship (That's Going Down) - Katie Pruitt: It feels very rare to me that this sort of extremely smooth Nashville prduction actually makes a song better. It has a habit of strangling the life out of a song and making it blend into a boring paste of soundalikes, but with Katie Pruitt it works amazingly. Her songwriting is so distinct and clear and her voice, especially near the end where it punches hole in the sky, is so strong and so her own that it doesn't need anything else.

Water - Ohmme: "What if Tegan And Sara were a noise band instead?" is a question I didn't know I needed an answer to. I love any band that has the guts to write songs like this that sound like pop from an alternate history, so off kilter and odd and noisy but with this undeniable pop heart that the duo vocals make sound like schoolyard clapping chants remixed by Lightning Bolt.

Lions, Tigers and Bears - SLIFT: A friend put me on to Slift and described them as French King Gizz and really, I'm inclined to agree. This is the traditional long last song at the end of their new album, and as usual I am advocating that every song should be the long last song at the end of the album. I love this style of jam where everyone else goes to space but the rhythm section just digs in and works hard as fuck for ten minutes. Then the whole last 3 minutes of the song are just fat drone riffs. This song's got everything.

The Pines - 070 Shake: This 070 Shake album is unbeleivably good and it warms my heart to see the dark energy of The Pines live on through another century in yet another permutation. I have more to say about it later in the Jackson C Frank version coming up but it feels like this 070 Shake album kind of came and went but I implore you to listen, it’s an aoty contender for sure.

Standing On The Verge Of Getting It On - Funkadelic: If you can stop thinking about the intro, which I certainly can’t (Hey lady won’t you be my dog and I’ll be your tree and you can pee on me.) there is so much goodness in this song. For a while now I’ve been thinking about how, for lack of a better word, ‘positive’ music is consistently underrated in the critical canon. Dance music, disco and funk especially are derided as empty sugar music, while every cookie cutter metal band absolutely demands to be taken seriously. In dance music this manifests as genres like tech house sucking all the fun and individuality out of music until it’s just an endless parade of producers working to a schematic of the barest essentials. It feels like you can’t have fun and be taken seriously at the same time, which feels like an obvious contradiction but shouldn’t be!

Spoils - Dry Cleaning: Dry Cleaning are my Lock Of The Month Band To Watch In The Future Because They’re Gonna Go Off. They have such a great sound and I’m desperate for an album because I just need more. This song absolutely knocked me down when I first heard it. I love any band where it sounds like the singer has just wandered in while the rest of them were rehearsing. There’s a very good talking-songs movement happening in the UK right now between these guys, Do Nothing and Fontaines D.C and i’m excited to see where it progresses. I might put together a playlist a little later to show you what I mean.

As - Stevie Wonder: I finally listened to Songs In The Key Of Life this month, which is an experience I would recommend to everyone. This shit goes for 21 songs over 105 minutes and absolute bangs the whole way. The original release of this album was a double LP plus a 7", which is yet another reason I am grateful for streaming that I don't have to buy a damn box set to hear this thing.

Sleep Now In The Fire - Rage Against The Machine: I am working on a very niche playlist called Songs Where The Guitar Amp Accidentally Picks Up A Nearby Radio Station For A Couple Of Seconds and it's only 3 songs so far. A Man A Plan A Canal Panama by The Fall Of Troy, Melody 4 by Tera Melos and Sleep Now In The Fire by Rage Against The Machine. In every single one of those songs it feels like a critical component even though it's just an accident that's been left in because it sounds good. Here it's the perfect ending as the rage dies down and the commercial world fades back in. Anyway, my other question about this song is about the great Michael Moore directed video where they famously shut down Wall Street for an afternoon. There's a shot of a guy for a second holding a sign that says Donald Trump For President in 1999. Which is odd but not out of the question, he's been famous for a long time and there's always been freaks. My question is why the fuck did he have that sign that day? Was he amongst the Rage Against The Machine Fans that showed up? A counter protestor? Was he, perhaps most chillingly of all, just walking idly around Wall Street with his Donald Trump For President sign like usual and stumbled upon this whole hoo-haa accidentally?

Applause (Purity Ring Remix) - Lady Gaga: Did you fucking know that Purity Ring did a remix of Applause? If there’s something I’d love to know more about and it’s Purity Ring’s forays into pop production. After their first album they did some production for rappers like Danny Brown in the great track 25 Bucks, which is a good fit really - their sound is witch house with the tempo pushed back up, witch house of course just being chopped and screwed reinvented by tumblr users. So it’s a natural fit to take that new perspective back into the world of hip hop. They also did this fantastic remix of Applause after their first album. Then, after their second album they produced 3 songs for Katy Perry’s Witness album, and one Katy Perry song for a Final Fantasy mobile game soundtrack (?) and feel like the long silence and delay between their second and third albums is because of more behind the scenes pop production work - but if that’s true, where is it? Is it, as I suspect, part of my own personal Pepe Silvia, Katy Perry’s scrapped 2019 album that has vanished into thin air? Or is it part of Chromatica? I think Purity Ring have solidified an interesting place in pop, paving the way for Billie Eilish and Kim Petras’ dark anti-pop and so i’m excited to see where they go after this new album now that they’re the architects of the new wave.

React/Revolt - Drahla: The smartest thing you can do is add a saxophone to your band. The whole first half of this song could go for 20 minutes of growling screaming saxophone post-punk and I wouldn't mind. Then when the second half of the song kicks in it's fantastic in the way this whole Drahla album is: it's tight and sprawling post-punk at the same time with a complicated structure that seems to just pile onto itself instead of ever circling back.

And I Was Like - Porridge Radio: I'm seemingly having a real thing this month for songs that open with a bizzare acapella chant. Between this and the Funkadelic one it's a genre I'm very interested in hearing more of. Isaac Newton was a virgin and it's important to recognise that. The thing I love about this song is how it's in 3 distinc sections: Isaac Newton was a virgin, she's a birthday girl in a birthday world, and mum no please it's grunge, and they all feel like the concentrated energy of a 14 year old's thoughts. She sounds like she's almost crying when she sings 'she's a birthday girl in a birthday world'. The concentrated confusing teenaged energy of this song is just overwhelming.

Dirty Mattresses - Mama's Broke: So much of contemporary 'traditional folk' either exists as pure nostalgia music or as music that's trying too hard to be 'authentic' and evoke a mythology of a bygone time, but Mama's Broke manage to make it feel new and modern but honest and  authentic at the same time. The super close harmonies and modern approach remind me of House And Land who I also love, but the songwriting is in another class entirely.

Building A House - CHOPCHOP: I don't know if you've ever seen Bad Boy Bubby but CHOPCHOP feels a little like the band that he ends up joining at the end. A musical ensemble built to enable the will of a very strange man. I think the band is from the UK and I'm not sure where the singer is from, but he has this incredible deeply accented voice that brings such a gravity to everything he sings in the way that anyone speaking english as a second language accidentally brings new weight to common turns of phrase.

Universal Soldier - Jay Electronica: It feels fitting, looking back, that Jay Electronica finally released his album right before the world ended. It was literally now or never. Some how Jay-Z is the breakout star of this album for me. He's got some of his best verses in years on here and he's a great opposition to Electronica's flow when they trade verses. I would also, as an aside, like to know the origin of the kids cheering sample throughout this, because it's the same one from AM//Radio by Earl Sweatshirt and Wish You Were Gay by Billie Eilish. So what's that about.

Sticky Hulks - Thee Oh Sees: I've been very slowly getting into Oh Sees and I love them a lot so far. Their unweildy, huge discography spread across a lot of variations of the same name makes digging into them very rewarding as well. There's a great line on their wiki detailing all the times they've changed their name that goes: Orinoka Crash Suite (1997–2003), OCS (2003–2005, 2017), Orange County Sound (2005), The Ohsees (2006), The Oh Sees (2006–2008), Thee Oh Sees (2008–2017), Oh Sees (2017–2019) Osees (2019) to give you some idea of what we're working with here. Basically it's just everything you could want from a pychedelic band like this: a history and discography as shaggy as the songs themselves.

Knife On The Platter - BODEGA: In reading about Bodega I learned that they don't have a drummer in the traditional sense. They have someone credited as a 'stand up percussionist', and in listening back I realised that's they key to the groove in their music. He's not playing a kit he's just slamming at a tom and a snare on a rack, while one of the singers plays hi-hat here and there. So all the drumming has this barebones caveman feel to it and I absolutely love it. The band feels a lot like The Fashion, and that whole mid-2000s dance-punk movement that I've been desparate to come back so naturally I love it a lot.

Against Gravity - Horse Lords: Horse Lords are one of the most incredible bands I've heard in a long time. Somewhere between a more analogue Battles and Laddio Bolocko, they make a kind of churning math-jazz that sounds like huge intersecting squares of rhythm slowly overlapping. It feels like there's an infinite depth in these songs, you can listen and focus on a single instrument and see it shifting in and out of place with everyone else, before you lose it again and it retreats back into the swirling mass.

Plain To See Plainsman - Colter Wall: I've been listening to this Colter Wall album a lot, and it's really beginning to rank among my all time favourites. I grew up around the flattest place in the southern hemisphere, so I love the plains and it's very nice to have a cowboy song I can relate to like that.

The Nail - Sarah Shook & The Disarmers: Sarah Shook has so much character in her voice I completely love it. She is also a fantastic songwriter that manages to make outlaw country punk that sounds authentic and doesn't have the rockabilly posturing that a lot of the genre suffers from.

Inner Reaches 慾望的暗角二 - Gong Gong Gong 工工工: The best thing about Gong Gong Gong is you can listen to this whole song before you realise they don't have a drummer. They're a guitar and bass duo that play and sing with such a layered rhythmic intensity between the two of them that they really don't need one. A drummer would just clutter the space already taken up by their ferocious rhythm.

Country Pie - Bob Dylan: I'm a big fan of Bob Dylan's dumb songs. He has a lot where if it's the first song you ever heard from him you would be mad at whoever told you he was the greatest songwriter to ever live for trying to trick you like this. What I especially love about this song is how abruptly it ends, like dad just came home and everyone panicked cause they're know they're not supposed to be staying up that late.

You Did It Yourself - Arthur Russell: It seems hard to believe that I've only just found out about Arthur Russel. He seems to be a mainstay of Music Guy lists and somehow I've only heard of him this month. I've been obsessing over the Iowa Dream album, which is a compilation of a lot of different (mostly extremely high quality) demos from the late 70s to mid 80s and what really shines through other than the singular strength of his songwriting is how readily and easily he bends from country style folk to romantic piano ballads, to groovy post-punk like this. What I love so much about this song is it's a great lesson in songwriting: sometimes a song can just be a vague review of a middling movie and still have emotional resonance. Incredible. There's a great NPR article about Arthur Russel and the process of assembling half-takes and demos into complete recordings that you should read if you're interested. https://www.npr.org/2019/11/20/779721417/which-arthur-russell-are-we-getting-on-iowa-dream

The Dogs Outside Are Barking - Arthur Russell: I love this song because it's such a perfect distillation of a teenaged moment: trying to find a moment alone with someone when you have no freedom at all to create one. The song cycles through potential situations but leaves the problem unresolved, existing in the moment of nervous romantic tension preceding an unasked question and it's just beautiful.

Men For Miles - Ought: I love the vocal melody in the verse here so much. Spiking up unnaturally at the end of the lines like a nervous and strange version of The Strokes. Even the way he cramps his words in in the chorus is so good, switching registers randomly like he's impersonating someone else.

Mister Soweto - Lizzy Mercier Descloux: https://pitchfork.com/features/from-the-pitchfork-review/9828-lizzy-mercier-descloux-behind-the-muse/ Pitchfork has a great article about Lizzy Mercier Descloux detailing how she is continually undervalued and underappreciated. I found her though my Discover Weekly and became immediately obsessed with this album - a perfect mix of off-kilter 80s bass and brass that is so colourful and seems to move in a million directions at once like the songs can't even catch up with themselves sometimes. I'm excited to dig into her discography more and try to understand her more because she has a truly unique approach that I can't get enough of.

Sweden - Marilyn Crispell: I've been looking for a while for other pianists of Cecil Taylor's calibre, rare type that it is and I am so glad to have finally found out about Marilyn Crispell. She plays free jazz like Taylor, but in much less percussive and disonnant style. There's a New York Times quote that seems to follow her that says "Hearing Marilyn Crispell play solo piano is like monitoring an active volcano. She is one of a very few pianists who rise to the challenge of free jazz." and it's really very apt. She will move with seemingly no warning at all from mediative, colourful stokes to a mad descent unto uncertainty and beyond, then back again without a moments hesitation. Her music moves like a dream, linking a stream of unlinked images with an ease that only seems incongruous on reflection.

Twins - Gem Club: I have loved this song for a very long time and I come back to it over and over and appreciate it anew. What I appreciate about on listening to it this time is the strangeness of it's structure, following up the verse with an instrumental break, and then a long instrumental intro to the chorus gives it so much space to spread out and breathe, giving the beautiful gravity of the song even more weight. Then after the chorus it moves straight to a bridge and then the intro and first verse again. It's a fantastic song that makes it's small parts so large, where another songwriter or another producer would pare them down.

Grand Central - Paul Cauthen: Something I've learned in listening to a lot of cowboy music is that the number one thing that cowboys hate and fear is getting hanged. They hate it worse than cats hate getting sprayed with water. I found out about Paul Cauthen combing through Colter Wall's similar artists looking for more of this brand of new old fashioned country and I really found it here. Paul Cauthen comes from four generations of preachers and left the church to pursue country music instead, which feels like an extremely old fashioned position to be in here in 2020 but I guess lots of people in Texas still live like that, and thank god they do or we wouldn't have Paul Cauthen's big mournful Elvis voice to sing us songs about the railway.

Serafina - BAMBARA: I love this sort of spoken word leather jacket rock and roll. It's so extremely Cool in an old fashioned way. Like a more rock and roll version of Enablers.

So 4 Real - The Hecks: I love love love this song that sounds like a sped up Prince demo. The strange thinness of the mix and the way the vocals are buried just makes it sound so strange and great, like it was put together on some ancient 4 track recorder that can't handle the pure energy of the song.

In The Pines (Version 2) - Jackson C. Frank: There's a very good 3 hour compilation of Jackson C. Frank recordings that came out a few years called Remastered And Unreleased that I listened through the other day. It's just magnificent. This version of In The Pines is one of my favourite I've ever heard, the mournful vocals coupled with his churning rhythm guitar really brings out the darkness of it in a way I've never heard.

(Tumble) In The Wind (Version 1) - Jackson C. Frank: Another favourite from this compilation that is slightly hard to listen to. I don't know if there's a date on it but I'd guess this was recorded near the end of his life. It is so beautiful, but you can hear in his voice and breathing that he's unwell. In Horseshoe Crabs by Hopalong she sings a story from his perspective this song really seems to fit in the second half of that. "Woke from the dream and I was old / Staring at the ass crack of dawn / Walked these streets up and down / Looking for Paul Simon / All I found was myself, lost in time / I tried singing my songs / But I lost my mind"

Sludge - Squid: I'm thinking of putting together a playlist of all the great Black Midi-adjacent bands I've found out about recently and Squid is at the top of the list. This new breed of art-punk is so fantastic and goes in a million different directions. I'm just so excited it exists.

Straight Shot - Quelle Chris: I love this song and Guns is a phenomenal album but there’s one thing bothering me. The ‘who are you, what are you’ part at the end sounds so incredibly familiar to me and I can’t figure out why. As far as I can tell it’s not a sample, but googling reveals that the english voice on it is fucking James Acaster the standup comedian. So what’s going on? Quelle Chris himself is less than helpful: “Straight Shot is one of those ideas that reached out to me, we got along and I simply showed it around town. The chorus, poem at the end and basic piano progression literally came to me in two separate dreams”. Who knows. Great song though.

Levitation - Dua Lipa: What I really like about this song is that she says sugarboo. This whole album bangs and Dua is really reaping the benefits of being the only pop star with the guts to release an album while everyone’s in lockdown I also have a half-baked theory about the way this song is almost interpolating Blame It On The Boogie in the ‘moonlight, starlight’ part as a sort of aggressive takeover of Michael Jackson’s cancelled legacy. Which is smart really. The same way Taylor Swift is re-recording her albums, let’s just get The Weeknd in the studio for a couple of days and give the world back it’s bangers.

Another Crashed Car - Nine Inch Nails: I am so glad Trent Reznor put out another two volumes of Ghosts. Ghosts I-IV from 2008 seems to have been the bridge from his Nine Inch Nails work to his film score work, and now that he’s had such success with that it’s nice to hear him writing in this style without telling anyone else’s story again. It’s also interesting for him to go back to this project now that Ghosts I-IV has paid dividends in the form of the sample at the centre of Old Town Road but that’s neither here nor there. It’s hard to pick and individual track from these, because they work so effectively as long form albums and not individual tracks, but I chose this one because I put the album on as background ambient while I was doing some boring data entry at work and this track is the point at which I realised I was going out of my mind with stress from doing the simplest tasks because of Trent’s Damned Chords.

Lilacs - Waxahatchee: This is a perfect song. It makes me want to like, draw charts about it and go through it bar by bar to figure out how she did it. It’s perfectly put together. It feels like she uses every trick in the book and it just comes together flawlessly in 3 minutes. Amazing.

Cool Water - Hank Williams: I decided to properly listen to Hank Williams because his shadow stretches over so much of country music, and while a lot of his music really alienated or bored me, and a lot of his songs feel like they would read as novelty songs today (like Hey Good Looking), this is the song that made me understand why he’s so revered.

In My Bones (feat. Kimbra and Tank And The Bangas) - Jacob Collier: Jacob Collier generally irks me. He makes brain music for redditors that lose their mind when someone shows them chord inversions or odd time signatures. Youtubers whose whole personality is ‘y’all heard Giant Steps?’ But he killed it on this song. It’s great despite him. There’s still a lot of corniness to work through, mostly in the big yuck funky lyrics, but structurally it’s a kaleidoscope and a big chunk of its success I’m putting down to Kimbra and Tank who understand that performance is a bigger part of a song than composition in a way Collier maybe doesn’t yet. He can overload the bassline and stop-start the rhythms as much as he likes but without actual personalities driving it it’ll just sound like a Peter Gabriel midi played at 200%.

Earthquake - Graham Central Station: I learned something wonderful in researching this band. The leader, Larry Graham, who was in Sly And The Family Stone is credited with inventing slap bass. He himself refers to the technique as "thumpin' and pluckin' ".

Quand Les Larmes D’un Ange Font Danser La Neige - Melody’s Echo Chamber: Once again furious that I’ve known of Melody’s Echo Chamber for years but never listened to them until now. I have been missing out. This is a perfect sprawling psychedelic jam punctuated with a bizzare cut-up recording about shitting yourself when you die and being declared brain dead in the vatican. It’s got everything. I had to look up who the drummer was on this song because he’s just nailing it, and it turns out it’s Johan Holmegaard from Dungen which is really a perfect fit.

Murder Most Foul - Bob Dylan: I was thinking the other day about how Bob Dylan is doing in quarantine. The man who hasn’t stopped moving his whole life and who’s been on a never ending tour  since the 70s is now, I assume, just pacing a hole in a hotel carpet somewhere and jabbering to himself. The strangest part of Bob dropping this 17 minute song about JFK out of nowhere is that he hasn’t put out any original music since 2012. So a gigantic song like this is an even bigger surprise. I, already a huge fan of gigantic songs and Bob Dylan, unsurprisingly love it. I love the slow stirring of the instrumentation, like he hired Dirty Three as a backing band and I love that nearly the entire second half is just listing good songs that he knows. It’s a remarkable song and unlike anything i’ve heard before from Dylan or anyone else. It’s interesting to hear Bob Dylan step into being the great chronicler of the 60s like he’s been told he already was his entire life almost 50 years later, finally accepting the fate foisted on him. The other thing I love about this song is the line when he for some reason praises Lee Harvey Oswald’s shooting “Greatest magic trick ever under the sun / Perfectly executed, skillfully done”

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0k1JjT8fXcUFO6VpM3kaez?si=gWSv88vdShKSnHhLJ_80pQ

[ginger-and-mint]

Happy birthday Myx! 🥳🎂 Have Several questions because I Want To Know Things. ^^; Illness & Injury 6 for everyone, Whump 2 & 3 for everyone, and Writer's 2, 13, 19, and 46 for you!

thank you Mel! ♡ and oh my gosh I’m so delighted by this abundance of questions!

6. What is their go-to remedy for an upset stomach?

Kara and Bramley both like some warmth on unhappy tummy. They’ll make themselves tea, more for the warmth than anything else, and sip it while taking it easy. Kara is likely to get herself a little warm pack too if she can.

Malia tends to go straight for medicine or a tonic. She doesn’t like to be slowed down by her body, and so will opt for whatever she thinks will be most effective in the shortest amount of time.

Si, being a song-mage, was once surrounded by fellow song-mage friends they could ask to cast a stomach-settling healing spell on them. With that option off the table, they'll also look for a fast-acting medicine or tonic.

Grayson and Elliott both try to ignore an upset stomach for a little while in the hopes that it’ll settle. When that fails, Grayson will go get himself a tonic and complain to his friends until it kicks in, while Elliott will either try sitting quietly and sipping on water or tea, or if he can get away, just sleeping it off.

Ryder is knowledgeable enough to take a different approach depending on how upset his stomach is. For something minor, he’ll make himself a digestion-easing tea, like mint or chamomile. If he knows that won’t be effective, he’ll go straight to a tonic. When it’s something he’s eaten that’s not agreeing with him, sometimes he’ll just go make himself throw up to get it out of his system.

2. What is their pain tolerance? Do they close their eyes and block it out, or go into a full blown panic?

Grayson really hates tolerating pain, but if he has to, he can take a lot. Most of the time, he will remove himself from painful situations as quickly as possible and complain bitterly about anything that hurts. But if the chips were down, he would turn out to be a lot tougher than anyone expected.

Bramley is a Sweet Baby and We Do Not Harm Him is not really used to enduring pain and has a low tolerance for it. He would close his eyes and block it out rather than panicking, but not really be able to do anything except sit there and block pain until he was Helped. c’:

Kara is Pure Sunshine and We Do Not Harm Her Either has a pretty high tolerance for acute pain and doesn’t panic about injuries, but she has been known to get faint from them. She’s also easily worn down by chronic discomfort, like being too hot or cold or just having a constant dull ache of some kind.

Malia is the opposite. She can put up with low-key pain or discomfort for a long time, but an acute injury would freak her out a lot more than she’d like to admit.

Ryder has a high pain tolerance on all fronts, honestly. As soon as he feels pain, he looks for a solution to ease it, and if there are none to be had, he’ll grit his teeth and block it out.

Meanwhile, poor dear Si is not great with pain. Song-mages are primarily healers, and so Si is really used to having even little hurts soothed quickly and easily. They don’t panic when in pain, but they do get extremely miserable.

Elliott has a very high pain tolerance when the pain feels within his control; he can power through even the worst headaches or stomachaches, for example. But as soon as the pain feels out of his control (i.e. he gets injured), he panics.

3. How long do they typically take to recover from illness or injury compared to average?

Ryder and Kara, by virtue of Robustness and Being Sensible People who largely take care of themselves when under the weather, are quick to recover.

Grayson and Malia both heal quickly from injuries, but take a little longer with illnesses. With Grayson, it’s more a matter of him not being back to himself until his symptoms are completely gone (he is very much a Man Flu type of guy.) Meanwhile Malia will treat an injury with appropriate care, but is likely to push herself back to full capacity before she’s fully better from an illness, leading to a slower recovery.

As big and strong as Bramley is, he’s actually a little more delicate immune system-wise. He tends to be a slow recoverer, even though he’s good about looking after himself when sick or hurt.

Elliott and Si also tend to have slow and uneven recoveries, but in their cases, it’s due to hooliganery. Si takes good care of themself during the uncomfortable phase of their illness or injury, but as soon as they feel 90% better, they’re eager to leap back into life with their usual zeal. That’s not always a great idea and can lead to them prolonging whatever is afflicting them. Elliott, on the other hand, is just a stubborn idiot who doesn’t take care of himself. He’s particularly bad about this with injuries, often aggravating them and even making them worse because he won’t give them the rest they need to heal.

2.     Are you a pantser or plotter?

Usually I lean more towards plotting, although I do leave a lot of room for the new directions and ideas I know I’ll discover during the process of writing itself. But Ginger and Mint is the big exception -- I started writing it with zero plan whatsoever. I do have an outline for it now, but I was probably eight or nine chapters in before I made it.

While the final product is definitely not as a polished as it would’ve been if I’d planned it from the start, it was honestly super refreshing to not worry and just write. I’ve been trying to bring a little of that experience over into my more serious writing -- it’s so easy to get caught up in plotting and forget to leave room for writing itself to be a generative process.

13.  Describe your writing process from idea to polished

Have idea. Whee!

“Mark out” the things I want to happen in the story or chapter:

I usually do this by writing out short snippets of prose or dialogue related to the ideas I’ve had about each moment. For example, let’s say I know I want a moment where Grayson talks to Ryder. I’d type up a couple lines of dialogue and/or maybe a line about Grayson encountering Ryder and noting what he’s doing or how he’s looking -- whatever’s relevant to the scene. Basically, whatever ideas I have about that scene will be represented in writing in the “mark.”

I have all these marks ordered in the document in the same way the scenes will eventually be chronologically ordered. For me, having visual space is important for my ability to think, so I hit the enter key enough times between the marks that I can see only blank space when I want to work with a certain moment.

Build out each mark until I have a full scene. I do try to go roughly start to finish, but definitely jump back and forth depending on what I’m feeling most inspired by or what my brain seems to be spitting up ideas about. I also skip ahead whenever I feel stuck, which is both a blessing and a curse.

Go back and string the scenes together. Add transitions, fill in any missing pieces, etc.

Re-read the full thing from start to finish and make final edits. Yay, done!

19.  How do you keep yourself motivated?

goooood question fam

I struggle with this as much as the next person (see: 2.5 year G&M hiatus). I haven’t discovered a foolproof method of motivation yet (pls advise if you have), but I do tend to feel inspired whenever something reminds me why I want to write this story. That could be thinking about a scene I’m really excited to share, re-reading a scene that reminds me why I enjoy portraying a certain character or environment -- anything along those lines.

46.  Do you reread your own stories?

Yes, the ones that I like! Some things I’m not particularly proud of and don’t go back to very often, but re-reading pieces of writing I do like helps me feel motivated, inspired, and confident.

[allie1804-fan]

Kerense Part 2

This is a continuation of Kerensa - read Part 1 here

Kerensa (Part 1)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Warnings : Just like Keanu in these fics, I don't actually know any of the other real people portrayed here so my versions of them are all supposition!

LA Home?

After a couple of weeks, they moved on to LA. Kerry was Flabbergasted by the size and style of his home. It had a cool feel due to the size of the rooms and the large pieces of art in the main living area which had vast bi-fold doors leading out to the patio and pool. He was most excited to show her his pond with Koi Carp and the breathtaking view.

His office and bedroom were warmer in style, more in keeping with the man and she was thrilled with the kitchen which his sister had designed with herself in mind for when she visited and wanted to cook or for Keanu when he had a caterer come in.

On their first night, they ordered take out and ate outside by the pool. They were both tired from travelling but he promised to take her out to some favourite haunts soon. His bigger priority was making her and Scout feel at home and welcome.

That started with meeting his mum. Having heard a lot about her before he left, his mother, in particular, was very keen to make her acquaintance. She invited them over and had a meal catered.

She was welcoming but there was an edge of scrutiny in her gaze and her questions.

In the car on the way home, Kerry pointed it out.

It’s just like Jason Robards says in Parenthood. “It never ends”

“What?”

“Well, your mum was clearly concerned I might be some kind of leach!”

“Kerry, she thinks that about everyone I meet, but especially women. But she liked you, I could tell. And you bonded over all your English connections right?”

“I guess!”

Next up was Karina who had them over for Thanksgiving. She was more easygoing than her mother and they had a very relaxed day with Keanu and his brother-in-law bonding over the football and Kerry and Karina enjoying working together in the kitchen.

In the weeks running up to Christmas, their projects were on hiatus and they focussed on getting Kerry acclimatised to LA. Keanu bought her a car (she was not up for driving his Porsche) and they went on bike rides up PCH, took Scout on hikes in local parks and continued her introductions to his friends.

Key amongst them was Alex Winter and his family. They spent a great day on the beach at Malibu with him, his wife and their 2 youngest sons. Alex took a cute pic of Kerry and Keanu there - She had straggly wet hair from messing around in the sea and was wearing a loose shirt over her swimming costume. Her arms were draped around Keanu’s neck and they were both grinning broadly. She liked it so much, she had it printed and framed and placed it on their dressing table. It was one way she could try to settle in.

She certainly felt safe and welcome in his home, but, truth be told, not really at home

Some of that was connected to Scout. There was an inner courtyard where Scout could chill in a shady spot and you could walk him along the road nearby but only in the evening when the surface would be cool enough. To walk the dog, you really needed to go to a park, beach or further out into hills. It wasn’t just a stone’s throw away like at Sennen.

Also, in one sense, the house felt huge but at the same time, claustrophobic. It was curious that she could feel hemmed in despite the space and open view at the back - it was like you couldn’t touch the nature that was so near at hand and when she felt like that, the waves of nostalgia for Sennen were powerful.

Another challenge she faced and hadn’t really expected had been the number of female friends Keanu had who, it was clear, were past sexual partners. It wasn’t that anyone said anything to her, least of all him for whom it was all just water under the bridge, but some of them had an unmistakable body language towards him, while others displayed a certain possessiveness that she found, if not threatening then at least challenging.

She knew he’d had a different life from her, longer in single mode, less settled in one place and with a lot of opportunity to be promiscuous, so she knew she had to accept it, but she also struggled to imagine still hanging out with people you’d been so intimate with in the past as it had been a very rare experience for her.

Fortunately, Karina was a bit of an ally in at least filling in the gaps as to who was or wasn’t an ex. Kerry didn’t want to come off as jealous or obsessive, so asking Keanu was a no-no, at least at first. One day, Karina had come over to talk Christmas food and caught Kerry staring off into the distance.

“Hey, where have you gone?” Karina asked her.

Wha …? oh sorry, nowhere, I’m right here”

“ oh no, not falling for THAT. What did he do?”

“Keanu? Nothing. Honest.”

“Kerry?”

“Honest he didn’t. It’s just, errm Autumn came over last night”

“Ughhh”

“What?”

“Nothing, she’s just not my favourite of his exes that still hangs around him”

“Oh so she IS an ex, I wasn’t sure and he didn’t say so”

“He wouldn’t, to him it’s ancient history - and it is. They properly dated in the 90s and then I’m pretty sure she was, you know…. A friend …..”

“With benefits?”

“Yeah, sometime in the 2000s but not in the past few years. Was she civil to you?”

“Yeah yeah, she was just quite, erm touchy with him and sort of “

“Possessive?”

“Not exactly, but she made sure to mention things from way back several times as if to remind me and him that I’m the new kid. I mean maybe I was being over-sensitive, it was weird”

“Naah, that’s her thing. She didn’t manage to clinch him and that still riles her so she hangs in there with the “trusty oldest friend” card.

“Yeah but she’s not his oldest friend right? Brenda is from school and that lovely lady Clare is from before her time right?”

“Right, I mean Autumn is from way back but she’s not the unique one she likes to think.”

Mostly, the exes were subtle in their comments or behaviour but China Chow came close to making Kerry spit her drink out at a Christmas party when she was a bit drunk. She was saying how happy she was to see Keanu happy.

“And you my friend are a lucky girl, he’s good between the sheets too huh?, hic!”

The following morning Keanu and Kerry were lying in bed with a coffee, nursing hangovers and doing a party post-mortem.

“Oh my God, China was drunk wasn’t she?!” Keanu snorted.

“I’ll say!” She replied rolling her eyes

“What?”

“Have you had sex with all of your female friends?!” She asked pointedly.

“Oh my god, what did she say?”

“Oh, how happy she is for you …..”

“Mmmmm, so?”

“And how lucky I am….and how good you are between the sheets”

It was Keanu’s turn to almost spit out his coffee.

“That must have been awkward.!”

“Well would have been worse if we weren’t both at least a little drunk”

“Do you mind?” “That I have a past?” he clarified when she looked questioningly at him.

“No, I just, I never had an ex who I still hung out with after we split so it’s a little weird for me. And they’re all so, you know, LA glamorous.”

“Come ‘ere.” He said pulling her close after seeing the uncertainty in her eyes.

“It’s you I love, you I want to wake up with every morning and hold in my arms each night. And they're so called glamour is no match for your beauty. And, it’s like, over 10 years ago that I was with any of the friends I still see, sexually. Kerry, I promise. Are we ok?”

“yeah, we’re good” she reassured.

And they were. Christmas was around the corner and Kerry enjoyed shopping for gifts, getting a tree and decorating the house. They placed the bird decoration for Ava on the tree and he gave her two angels to hang for her babies and a Celtic fertility symbol in hope of a future as parents. They spent Xmas Day with his mother and Karina and Keanu went on his usual Boxing Day bike ride with old friends while Kerry went to the cinema with Karina.

On 29th they headed back to the UK, where they spent New year with her sister and family and 10 days having catch-ups with friends in London and Cornwall.

By mid-January, they were back in LA and finally, it felt like there would be a period of being more settled. They socialised but there were no more big introductions to make and Kerry planned to crack on with her novel.

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @omg-imagine @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @paperplanesandwallflowers @witty-wallflower @karlee1225 @bitchyslut99 @toomanystoriessolittletime @ladyreapermc @kissmyromanticquote @tacticalchics @utterlynuts @kylosbitch @thebigbubowski @thelightnessofthebeing @gatsbynouvel @keanuficfiles @fanficsrusz @jardaniswife @cheezbort @mazzylana97 @maggiemoo1892 @girlfriday007 @siriussnape07 @yomnaislame @soarocks @fadingkideclipseempath @franny-banks-world @keanulowe @babylovejongin @lucky134ever @jasmindaughteroftheworld @tomorrowsanotherday @fokinqueen @littlefreya @leftyreea @wheretheriversrunintothesea @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @fickenstein @popacherryvisitalibrary @aah8903 @thethirstyarchive @cynic-spirit @australianpsychos @meetmeinthematinee

[joon-ipersgirl]

O3 - “don’t leave me”

genre: strangers to lovers!au, angst, fluff

pairing: jimin x reader (f)

summary: they say home is where the heart is. you’re convinced yours was taken the day your father died. until you meet jimin. 

you believe in love but after watching men cycle through your mother’s arms, rocky relations with ex-boyfriends, and broken friendships, you no longer see it in your future. so much so, you never settle in one place long enough to create ties and call it home, choosing a job where you’re always on the go and on your own. 

on a chance encounter on a flight from new york city to bali, indonesia, you meet. flustered by jimin’s flirty advances but understanding and good-natured tendencies, you start to fall. what starts off as a work-trip soon blossoms into a budding romance, but will jimin’s secret destroy the relationship before it’s had the chance to truly begin?

word count: 10.6k.. lmao

warnings: mentions of anxiety, cursing

a/n: wow it’s been some weeks. school and work are kicking my ass but thank you to that anon who asked if i was still writing. i am. i’m doing my best to balance everything but your comment seriously motivated me to find some time to post this and it is a hell of a long part so i hope that makes up for the semi-hiatus. the next part is my fave part to date and i hope to have that up soon. seriously, all your comments mean the world to me so send them in, even if you think it’s something super small! you could be the difference between something be posted or not lol. anywhooo. thank you again for reading and vi for being my editor in chief. enjoy! :)

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

It was the additional warmth that alerted you that something was wrong. The fogginess of sleep wrestled with your consciousness as your body slowly woke up, the former forcing sleep to tap out. Your legs were cramped beneath you in the seat as you’d curled into yourself, the thin blanket tucked up under your chin like a butterfly in a cocoon. All of these were quite normal, except for the soft material underneath your cheek instead of the scratchy cover of the airline seat. Lifting your head from your makeshift pillow, your eyes focused on the smooth skin of Jimin’s neck. You jerked away, smacking your head against the curve of the airplane. Jimin groaned and turned to face you, his eyes still closed but his eyebrows furrowed.

“Jimin!” you hissed, shoving his shoulder away from you. His upper body was still pressed against your knees. “Get up!”

He finally opened his eyes, confusion was written on his face as he squinted from the soft lights filtering into the plane. Jimin shifted back over to his seat and you sighed in relief, still rubbing the back of your head in an attempt to soothe the sore spot. He shoved his hood from his head and ran his fingers through the soft waves of his hair, a few tufts sticking up out of place.

“Why are you yelling?” he groaned, holding his hands in his head. “It’s early as fuck.”

“I wasn’t yelling. And you were crushing me,” you huffed, attempting to stretch your legs out.

“You weren’t complaining a few moments ago,” he countered, his usual grin looking more adorable as he struggled to fully wake up.

You pursed your lips in irritation. It didn’t seem to take Jimin long to be back on his bullshit, even if he had just woken up. He stretched beside you, toned arms coming up above his head, the hem of his hoodie rising along with them. You turned your head back to the window, not wanting to be caught staring again. So much for avoiding cuddling into his nice, warm body. If he asked, you’d just blame it on the cold air of the plane.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our final descent to Hong Kong International Airport. Please secure your tray tables and return your seats to their full upright position. We will be coming through to collect any trash you may still have. Thank you.”

You gasped as you realized you’d overslept and missed the opportunity to have your morning coffee. You rubbed your forehead, already feeling the symptoms of withdrawal hitting you. The in-flight monitor showed that it was almost 10 am in New York, meaning you were already one cup of coffee behind schedule. You could only pray that it wouldn’t take long for the next set of passengers to board and the in-flight services could begin again before your impatience truly reared its ugly head.

Shoving open the little plane window cover, you watched as the cityscape of Hong Kong came into view. The bright lights of the tall skyscrapers looked like lighthouses perched on the corner of cliffs and you awed at its modern beauty. It was almost as breathtaking as flying into New York City. You pulled your phone from your sweatpants’ pocket and took a video as the plane banked left, your brain not too bogged down to recognize a money-making shot when you saw one.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Jimin whispered over your shoulder, his voice rough from sleep. You nodded, not turning to look at him, not trusting yourself to face him in your coffee-deprived state and question exactly who or what he was referring to.

With a gentle shudder, the aircraft landed on the tarmac and headed to its destination, the passengers on the flight applauding for your safe arrival. The pilot welcomed you to Hong Kong International Airport, telling you the current local time and temperature, and thanking you for flying with Cathay Airlines. At the ding! of the seatbelt sign disappearing, a few passengers rushed to secure their carry ons, no doubt antsy to make it to their connecting flight. You sank back into your seat, silently urging them on so you could be back in the air and on your way to Indonesia.

“One flight down, only one more to go!” Jimin exclaimed and stepped into the aisle, fully stretching his lean body after double checking no one else was coming behind him. You nodded and combed your fingers through your hair, trying to tame your own bed hair.

After a few idle minutes, you realized that no one else had gotten on the plane. Confused, you propped yourself up to see the front of the plane better. Aside from a few passengers stretching their legs like Jimin, no clean-up crew had boarded to clear the empty seats and restock the plane with food. The rest of the passengers seemed to notice the lack of activity as well.

“Excuse me?” a man a few rows ahead called to a passing stewardess. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes sir. We’re just having a few maintenance issues, but everything should be sorted quickly. No need to worry,” she said with a gentle smile. Maintenance issues? That didn’t sound good.

Jimin slipped back into his seat to let the stewardess pass. “Don’t look so worried, Shutterfly. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

You nodded slowly and chewed on your lip. It was already bad that you hadn’t been able to see the changes Michael had sent, but now it seemed like your arrival in Bali would be delayed, thwarting your plans even further. Would it be wrong to assume Adele’s phone call was to blame for your entire trip taking every possible delay and detour? Maybe Michael’s words had come true and you hadn’t planned well enough, your gifts truly leaving you in your time of need.

You busied myself with folding the airplane blanket and tucking it into the back of the seat in an effort to remain calm. It would eventually all be sorted and you could contact Micahel when you finally landed, possibly even convincing him that you deserved an extension because of circumstances out of your control.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. It seems as though our aircraft is having some slight maintenance problems and we will no longer be able to fly to our final destination on this particular plane. Our crew is working diligently to rectify the issue, but we’re going to have to ask you to please leave the aircraft. If you could make your way to the information desk right outside the gate, our associates would be happy to answer any questions you may have about getting you to your final destination. Thank you,” the announcement came over the speakers. An audible groan echoed from the remaining passengers.

“Well, fuck,” Jimin commented, shoving his book and hoodie into his backpack. “What a great surprise,” he mumbled.

You didn’t move. It was as though her words hadn’t truly registered and you blinked a few more times before you honestly understood what was happening. You were going to be late to Bali, your entire itinerary thrown off, not to mention whatever else you needed to add to the video. Your accommodations there would be gone and your deposits with it. Fuck. The familiar tug of anxiety filled your chest as you watched it rise and fall, your breaths coming much easier than you expected, though you felt you’d been submerged underwater for a few minutes. Tears pricked the back of your eyelids as you tried not to cry from frustration.

“Shutterfly! Are you coming?” Jimin was already halfway up the aisle, his old backpack slung low on his shoulders as he checked for your whereabouts, holding up the small line that formed behind him.

You grabbed your backpack and shoved your feet back into your sneakers, double-checking the time on your phone. As soon as you got off the plane, you needed to call Michael and update him on the situation. Though you knew he wouldn’t be upset with you, the gnawing feeling of guilt hung around your shoulders as you shuffled down the aisle with the rest of the passengers.

Hong Kong International Airport would have stolen your breath away had you been paying proper attention. You took a sharp left after entering the actual terminal, looking for an empty seat in a quiet space where you would be able to hear Michael over the protests of irritated passengers. Dialing his number, you waited for the call to go through but it didn’t. You tried again, the same “call failed” message popping up on the screen. Checking the number of bars on your phone showed you that you didn’t have any service. You stared at your phone, baffled. It wouldn’t even connect to the wifi. What in the good Lord’s name were you supposed to do now?

You slumped against the sleek metal column until your body hit the floor in defeat, your brain too frazzled to come up with any bright ideas. Unease wrapped her familiar fingers around your shoulders again. Her gentle whispers echoed in your mind as the uncertainty of the situation before you gripped you tightly. You felt stranded with her on a desolate island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and she was your only company. You drew your knees into your chest, trying to disappear as if that would make anything better. Frustration grew into anger and tears welled up in your eyes as you pushed up from the ground, backpack secured firmly in your grip, and marched over to the nearest Cathay employee.

“Excuse me?” he turned to face you with a warm smile.

“Yes, ma’am. How may I help you?” he asked.

“Hi. I was on the flight from JFK with the final destination to Bali. They said the plane has some maintenance issues? What’s going to happen now? How soon can I get on a flight out of here?” You tried your best to keep your tone neutral as he continued smiling at you.

“First, I’d like to apologize for the inconvenience. Second, we’re not actually sure -” your eyes widened, “- but we’re doing everything we can to fix things,” he finished.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked. “So am I just supposed to stay in the airport until you guys fix this?”

“Well, we currently have no flights leaving for Bali that have available seats on them -”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that I might have to stay in Hong Kong overnight?” You did nothing to try to hide the panic in your voice, forgetting that you were in a public place.

“It’s quite possible, Miss. Again, I’m very sorry -”

“Where am I supposed to sleep then? I can’t sleep here!” you wailed, cutting him off again. His eyebrows turned down in annoyance. You were probably being rude, but at this moment in time, you couldn’t give a fuck. You were in an unfamiliar country, where they spoke an unfamiliar language, under extremely unfamiliar circumstances. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

“If you could follow me, I can see if we have any complimentary hotel rooms available as this cancellation was not your fault,” he said, the cheerful customer service tone gone.

You followed him to the Cathay Airlines desk in front of the gate and wrapped your arms around yourself as he spoke with his colleague. It offered no comfort and you bounced with nervous energy as you waited for his verdict. You started to count the number of passengers you recognized from your flight when someone brushed against you and you jumped, your body hyper-aware of any small movement.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Jimin. You sighed and relaxed your shoulders slightly. “You disappeared on me. Is everything okay? You look kind of ill,” he trailed off. You scowled at him and crossed your arms tightly.

“Thank you, Jimin. That’s just what anyone wants to hear during a time like this,” you said sarcastically. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, and mumbled a small apology. “How are you not upset about this?” you asked, gesturing to the rest of the people.

He shrugged. “Things change, life happens. Nothing we can really do about it. Just have to figure out the next step. Have you gotten any updates about a new flight leaving?” you nodded.

“He’s supposed to let me know, but it doesn’t sound like it’s going to be good news,” you replied, chewing on your lip again.

“So we could be stuck here overnight?”

“It’s quite possible,” you told him bitterly, repeating the same words said to you. Jimin hummed in thought and excused himself, promising he would be right back. It was at this moment that the employee returned, his colleague in tow.

“Well, Miss -”

“Y/L/N,” you filled in.

“Miss. Y/L/N, my name is Joy and I am a manager at Cathay Airlines. Again, I would like to apologize for the inconvenience this has caused you. Unfortunately, all of our complimentary rooms have been given away at this moment in time and it seems as though our next departing flight to Bali, Indonesia with available seats will not be leaving until tomorrow afternoon. As of right now, I can only offer you a discount on your next flight with us and a free upgrade to business class,” she finished, her smile almost as sorry as the deal she was offering you.

You inhaled deeply and tried to swallow the bitterness threatening to spill from your lips. The combination of anxiety, anger, and coffee withdrawal had left you with nothing kind to say and Adele had been around enough to teach you good manners.

“Well Jennie, that fucking sucks. Are there any places you could recommend that have available spaces? Or a partner airline that could - I don’t know - actually have working planes and could get me to my final destination?” you asked, some of the bitterness slipping in there somehow. Jennie’s smile tightened just as Jimin returned.

“Sorry, she’s not really a morning person,” he said apologizing and tucking you tightly under his arm. “You said there were no flights available until tomorrow afternoon, correct?”

“Yes, sir. We’re doing our best to get everyone on their way as soon as we can,” she answered, her smile brightening at his presence.

“I’m sure you are -” he leaned down slightly to read her name tag, “- Joy. If you could be so kind as to make sure that we’re sitting together whenever you sort those arrangements out, I would seriously appreciate it.” You opened your mouth to protest but Joy was already agreeing.

“Of course Mr. -“

“Park,”

“Park?” She stared at him puzzled before her eyes lit up. “That’s Korean, isn’t it? Do you speak Korean?” she asked excitedly. “I’ve been trying to practice.” You stared at her incredulously, but Jimin entertained the conversation to your dismay.

“As a matter of fact, I do. How long have you -“

“Jimin,” you butted in, twisting in his grip. “Joy is a busy woman. In fact, she was about to go and get some information about places to stay since there are no flights leaving today. I’m sure you could have this conversation -“

“Oh, no need to worry about that, Shutterfly. I’ve already got that taken care of, but you’re right. Joy is a busy woman so we should let her get back to work,” Jimin said, beaming down at you, his smile easing some of your pent up frustration.

“David,” Joy turned to the man who had originally tried to help me, “please add Miss. Y/L/N under Mr. Park’s reservation for tomorrow’s flight.”

“I’ll need your first name, Miss. Y/L/N,” David told you. “For security purposes,” he added after you continued to stare at him without giving an answer.

“Can’t you just look it up under the old reservation?”

“Oh come on, Shutterfly. Don’t be difficult. Don’t you want to go grab some breakfast?” Jimin cooed while squeezing your shoulder. You’re sure you looked like any angry bull as your nostrils flared. Of course, the Universe would be on Jimin’s side to have it so that you couldn’t not give him your name if you wanted to secure a seat that Joy seemed so determined to give Jimin. Getting to Bali as soon as possible trumped holding out on Jimin. Unfortunately.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you grumbled, arms still crossed, and pouted at your game ending. Jimin’s smile widened and David nodded, heading back to the desk to input the information.

“Thank you so much, Joy. For everything,” Jimin emphasized and squeezed your shoulder again. “Good luck with your Korean!” he added and started to steer you away.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Park! Please enjoy your time in Hong Kong!” she called after you. Jimin pulled you away from the crowd and you struggled to keep up as one of his steps was almost two of yours.

“Jimin, slow down!” you yelled and finally tugged his arm from around you. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“To get breakfast. What do you mean? Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, confused as he stared down at you.

“Jimin, what about the rest of our luggage? Well, I don't know if you did, but I have a checked bag. I can’t just leave -”

“Y/N,” the way your name sounds coming from his mouth had you pausing, your own mouth open mid-sentence, “your luggage is fine. They hold it until you can get on the next flight. You still have the original tag they gave you, right?” You nodded. “Then you’re all set. Come on! You’ll think and feel better once you have some food in you. And some coffee.”

At the mention of your favorite beverage, you let Jimin lace his fingers through your own and lead you further through the international arrivals terminal in search of somewhere to eat. You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair again, dodging the occasional traveler in this unfamiliar airport, in an unfamiliar city, with a slightly less unfamiliar man for company.

Though Jimin was optimistic about finding breakfast at 2:30 am, you were not. After walking through the terminal for 25 minutes and trying to convince Jimin that no sane business would be open right now - to which he responded that there had to be at least one - he had finally given up after passing the same vending machine for the second time.

“Okay, maybe you were right,” he mumbled and set his bag on the floor as he plopped down into an empty seat at a vacated gate and you hummed in agreement. He pushed his hand through his hair and let his head fall over the edge of the seat. You checked your phone again to see if you had any service, and was disappointed to see that there still wasn’t. You sighed quietly and sat next to Jimin.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“You’re chewing your lip again,” he pointed out. Your cheeks warmed as you realized he was right and you released your lower lip. You were surprised he had noticed your unconscious behavior and you resisted the urge to do it again, instead settling on playing with the sleeves of your hoodie.

“I just - I have a really big project to complete in Bali and with this delay, I’m not sure if I can get it all done. I’ve been trying to get in touch with my manager, but my stupid fucking phone doesn’t have any stupid service right now so I -”

“Do you want to use mine?” he asked, cutting you off and offering you his phone. You stared at him. “Seriously, no worries. I have an international plan that automatically connects when I travel. Here,” he said while unlocking his phone and shoving it into your hands. “I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for you to say yes before he was already halfway down the hallway. You tapped the screen of his phone before it locked again and dialed Michael’s number, grateful for the privacy. Bouncing your leg, you prayed he would answer the unknown number.

“Michael Callahan. Who is this?”

“Oh, Michael!” You sobbed out in relief after finally hearing his voice.

“Y/N? Is everything okay? What happened to your phone?” he asked, the concern quite evident in his voice. “Were you robbed?! Oh my gosh, Y/N -”

“No, Michael!” you assured him. “For some reason, my phone plan isn’t working. I’m using someone else’s right now.”

“Oh, that blasted Phillip. I told him to make sure your phone plan was taken care of as I had to step into a meeting - you know I would have done it myself - and I guess he forgot. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’ll get Elise on it right now. Elise!” he screamed away from the phone for his secretary. “You’re in Bali now, right?” he confirmed.

“Um, no. Not yet.”

“What do you mean not yet?”

“Well, the plane had some maintenance issues and they couldn’t fly us out tonight. I’m in Hong Kong instead. We’re supposed to fly out tomorrow,” you explained.

“By yourself?! Where are you going to sleep? Oh honey no! Let me see what -”

“I’m not technically by myself,” you mumbled, just as Jimin was making his way towards you.

“What do you mean by ‘technically’, Y/N?” Michael asked.

“Just another passenger. It’s his phone I’m using. He seems nice,” you trailed off as Jimin sat down next to you, not wanting to talk about him while he was sitting within earshot. He flashed you a thumbs up and you returned it awkwardly, trying to calm down Michael’s growing apprehension.

“Y/N, you can’t just walk around Hong Kong with a stranger! And a man that you barely know?! Honey, how are you going to survive?” you rolled your eyes as the dramatics started to roll in. “You don’t even know Cantonese. If we’re quite honest, you can barely speak Korean. I knew Adele should have -”

“Weren’t you the one who told me to live in the moment? I’ll be okay Michael, just please get my phone on as soon as possible and add an additional travel notice on the card for Hong Kong so I can get something to eat. I’ll text you every hour on the hour with updates. This is Jimin’s number. Save it if you need to call me and my phone isn’t working. Thank you, Michael. You’re the best! I love you!” you hung up before he could protest.

“Is everything alright?” Jimin asked warily.

“Yep!” you chirped. “Absolutely!” Jimin’s eyes widened at your quick change in demeanor. “What do we do now?” Though it was almost 3:30 am and your stomach had started to grumble; your body was still on Eastern Standard Time.

“Well, I have a friend who lives here. He owns a hostel maybe 35 minutes away? I know we need some place to stay and I called him, explained what happened, and he’s more than willing to put us up for the night. I’m not sure if you’re down, but I knew it would be a lot cheaper than whatever hotel Joy was going to offer,” he replied.

You hesitated. Jimin was very much so a stranger. You had only had, at most, three full conversations. You only knew his first and last name, no idea what his actual occupation was and didn’t even know where he was from. He could quite honestly be some maniac looking to lure a pure, innocent girl to her doom. That girl being you. You bit your lip. Then again, you were already here alone, and if you didn’t go with Jimin, you would be alone in the very large, very empty Hong Kong International Airport. Deciding to take Michael’s words to heart, you decided to enjoy the moment and sent up a silent prayer that God had not decided your life would end at the hands of a certain toned-thighed man in the middle of the night.

“No, that sounds great. Thank you for including me,” you told him. He nodded and smiled.

“Of course. I’ll tell him to come get us.”

45 minutes later, you and Jimin were seated in the back of William Xiao’s trusty pickup truck along with his trusty sidekick Rosaline, a golden retriever. You had pictured William to be a younger man around Jimin’s age, but he was actually older - around mid-fifties - with greying hair. He navigated the streets of the city of Victoria easily in the early morning, the traffic was light as most people were still asleep. It was your favorite time and you felt relaxed against the leather seats as the wind lifted your hair, a small smile on your face. The tall skyscrapers glided past as you zoomed down the highway.

“So how long are you staying in Hong Kong this time, Chim?” William asked as he took the next exit.

“Ah, not long actually. We leave tomorrow hopefully,” Jimin responded, glancing over at you.

“And you’re going where again?”

“Bali. In Indonesia,” he repeated. William seemed to be a little forgetful and you chuckled at the thought.

“Right, right. And how long are you two staying there for?” he asked again.

“I’m not sure about Y/N,” his leg bumped against yours as William turned left, “but I’ll be there for maybe 2 weeks? I haven’t decided yet,” Jimin replied.

“Um, I’m there for 10 days. Well, I guess 9 now,” you corrected. You tried not to think about the impromptu changes. William nodded and continued driving through the empty streets, the car silent until Rosaline started barking.

“Oh be quiet old girl. I know we are almost home,” he hushed her and patted her head, her tail wagging excitedly in the seat.

William slowed and pulled his truck over to the side of the street. You stared out the window confused as you could only see small eateries. The street was actually filled with them, with everything from noodles to dumplings and rice bowls. Your mouth watered at the sight, though they all seemed to be closed and you frowned.

“Where’s the hostel?” you asked Jimin, turning to face him as William hopped out of his truck.

“You’re looking at it,” Jimin said and pointed to a narrow doorway right in front of where the truck was parked. Your brows deepened further in confusion. He laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll see.”

He exited the truck and you accepted his hand as you hopped down and shut the door, the distance much greater for you than Jimin. Rosaline greeted you on the sidewalk and you and Jimin showered her with love as she ran between you, clearly happy about the attention.

“Alright, Rosie. Calm down. You are going to wake the customers up,” William chided as he walked up the three steps of the narrow doorway and entered a passcode before ushering the three of you inside. He used a set of keys to open the second door and you entered the small lobby.

William’s hostel was airy and light, the pale grey walls with turquoise accents complementing each other well. A tiny front desk sat next to a glass door that read “Office” and a few turquoise chairs were positioned on the opposite side of the room. Different abstract paintings lined the wall above them, adding a touch of personality to the otherwise simple room. You were taken aback by how much space actually seemed to be available for use.

“This is lovely,” you complimented, walking over to get a better look. “I really like the artwork.” William beamed at you.

“Why thank you! They were a gift from Jimin,” he added. Jimin received the praise awkwardly and focused his attention on scratching Rosaline’s tummy.

Suddenly, the office door burst open and a petite woman stomped out while loudly whispering in what you assumed to be Cantonese. The two had a heated exchange while she angrily waved about a set of chopsticks and you worried she might poke poor William’s eyes out. It was only after William gestured behind him towards you that she peeked around William and spotted Jimin. Her face immediately brightened and she nearly ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist and giving him a tight squeeze. Jimin laughed as the two of them exchanged words and you stared at him in wonder at his knowledge of the native language. It was then that she finally noticed you.

“Uh, hi,” you said shyly, your face heating up slightly. You waved at her. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” She looked at Jimin expectantly. He translated and she nodded and waved back at you. You smiled.

“Y/N, this is Sonia, William’s wife. They run the hostel together,” Jimin explained.

“My wife only knows a little English. I am sorry,” William started to apologize.

“Oh no! Please don’t apologize. I’m sure we can communicate somehow,” you waved him off. Sonia said something to Jimin again and turned to you.

“Hungry?” she asked and made the motion to eat. You nodded furiously and she grinned. She beckoned you to follow her and took your hand, leading you to the office. Your eyes widened as you passed Jimin and he gave you an encouraging smile. He mouthed that he would be right there.

The office space was compact but functional. There was a little table and cushions as seats, a small refrigerator in the corner, and a few file cabinets tucked against the wall. Sonia gestured to the table for you to sit as she passed through another door, bringing three sets of chopsticks and bowls with her. You made to stand and help her, but she shooed you away so you sat quietly as she set the table. Jimin entered and you smiled at him, reassured at his presence.

“You didn’t tell me you could speak Cantonese!” you declared.

“You never asked,” he replied with a shrug as he sat across from you. “William’s gone to find us a room. I’m not sure if he has one with double occupancy, but he said he would check and see. I hope that’s okay.” You nodded as Sonia returned and placed a steaming plate of noodles in front of you.

“You eat, yes?” she asked. You nodded again and Sonia smiled as she served you and Jimin a large helping. You thanked her, grateful, and tucked in. Moaning in delight, you almost missed the way Jimin’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.

“What?!” you giggled. “It’s really, really good.” Jimin only chuckled as he filled his mouth with food. Sonia set some drinks down in front of you before she sat down herself.

“How long have you and William been working at the hostel?” you asked after your stomach no longer felt like it was touching your spine.

“20 years,” Jimin translated around a mouth full of noodles.

“Wow! And you’ve been married that long too?”

“They’ve been married for 35 actually. Sonia used to work as a chef before she started helping William out,” Jimin answered.

You silently awed at her resilience and courage. Sonia was probably married at your age and starting a family while you were here wallowing in self-pity over a man who had proved to you time and time again that he didn’t want you. You shook the thoughts from your head so as to not ruin the end of a great night and instead focused on the flavor of Sonia’s cooking, the spiciness of the sauce welcomed.

The three of you made small talk as Jimin translated for Sonia and yourself. She was a remarkable woman who was headstrong and did as she pleased, much to the dismay of her husband. Her beauty did not leave her as she showed you some pictures from when she and William first got together; her face remained the same except for a few deep smile lines and the occasional silver streak through her shoulder-length hair. The two of them balanced each other out and you could only admire their love story as Jimin helped her with the dishes in the other room and Rosaline came to rest her head on your thighs.

“Well, it seems like I only have one room available for the two of you. I hope that is okay, Y/N,” William said as he poked his head around the door. He sniffed. “Was that black bean noodles?” You nodded and giggled as he called for Sonia, heading through the other open door. Jimin emerged with a key in his hand, snickering.

“William is quite upset Sonia didn’t save him some black bean noodles, though I’m sure I saw her set some aside for him in the fridge,” he laughed. “I told them I’d tell you goodnight. He told you about the room?”

“Yeah,” you replied, still petting Rosaline’s head and lost in your thoughts.

“Alright, I guess we can go then. It’s almost 5:45 am and we should definitely get some sleep to be on Hong Kong time.”

“What was it that you said? ‘Reset the Circadian rhythm before Bali’ was it?” you asked, mocking him. He rolled his eyes and grabbed your backpack.

“You’ll thank me one day, Shutterfly,” he warned as he held the office door open for you. “This way.”

You followed Jimin past the tiny desk and into the main common area with a little lounge and kitchen area set up for breakfast; you beamed when you saw the pots of coffee all cleaned and ready to go. Your body buzzed in anticipation and you couldn’t wait to smell the dark roast in the morning. You continued through to a set of stairs and climbed up to the fourth floor, your legs protesting another step as you realized how truly out of shape you were.

Room 408 was basically nonexistent. You had heard about the tiny rooms in Asia, but actually seeing one was astonishing. A thin wardrobe stood facing the bathroom door which was equally as boxy, but you were grateful that you didn’t have to share as you had heard other hostels do. The walls were painted the same grey color as downstairs but lacked the artwork. The full-sized bed took up the majority of the space in the room, a small nightstand table on its right side. You bit my lip as you thought about having to share the bed with Jimin, knowing how cramped we already were on the plane.

“Isn’t this cute?” Jimin murmured as he set your bags at the foot of the bed after shutting the door and held up the two small plush bears sitting on top of the towels. You laughed uncomfortably as you took the toy from him and set it on the dresser.

“Do you have a side of the bed you prefer?” you asked quietly, standing in the middle of the room, tugging on the sleeves of your hoodie.

“Nope,” Jimin replied, popping the ‘p’. “Lady’s choice.” He gestured to the bed and you blushed.

“Cool, well do you mind if I take a shower first?” He shook his head as he pulled out his book and phone charger. “Cool, cool. I’ll be fast,” you told him and shut yourself in the bathroom quickly with your backpack and one of the towels.

You exhaled and massaged your scalp as you tried to channel tranquility. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was only sleeping in a bed with a man. Something you’d done numerous times, both platonically and romantically throughout your life. This would be nothing different. Except it was Jimin. A man that knew how to adjust AF fine-tune on pricey cameras, read books for fun, and also spoke multiple languages. You groaned and turned on the hot water. You thought you had shut all thoughts of Jimin away in that tiny airplane stall, but you guess you’d missed a few stragglers.

The water pressure was weak when you stepped in but you were appreciative that the water was still hot at this time in the morning. You took a quick shower, wanting to save some of it for Jimin. It was steamy when you stepped out and you wiped the oval mirror clear with your hands. Your hair was slightly damp and your skin was flushed from the steam. You tugged on the sleep shirt you’d packed in your bag yesterday morning as well as a clean pair of panties that you always carried in your carry on in times of emergencies, glad you’d remembered to do so for this trip. Jimin turned his head towards you as you cracked the door open to peer around it, shielding your lower body from his gaze.

“All done?” he asked. You nodded. “I think Michael texted you? Oh, and the password for the wifi is written here, just in case you need it,” he said, holding up a piece of paper from the nightstand. You nodded again.

“Don’t look,” You told him quite seriously, pointing a warning finger towards him.

“Are you going to poke me with your finger if I don’t?” he teased, turning your words back on you and you were glad that your skin was already flushed so he couldn’t tell you were embarrassed again. “I’ll step out so you can sort out what you need. Shout when you’re done.” He padded out into the hallway and slowly closed the door behind him. You sighed in gratitude and slipped out of the bathroom, double-checking your cameras were still okay before plugging your phone charger into an outlet and diving under the covers.

“You can come in!” you yelled. Jimin double-checked that the coast was clear before he locked the door behind him and rummaged through his things. As he entered the bathroom, you set up the wifi on your phone and thumbed a quick message to Michael telling him you were safe and well-fed. His message came immediately after.

Michael: Thank God! I was so worried. What is this Jimin’s last name? You know we can never be too careful. [6:01].

Park. He seems alright. I took a shower and he didn’t try to kill me so I guess that’s a good sign. [6:02]

Michael: Y/N, this is no time to make jokes about your life; I’ve already asked for his social security number to give to police if anything seems suspicious. Please send me the address of where you are, just in case. Also, Elise said that your phone should be working now. What time are you supposed to leave Hong Kong? [6:04].

Michael you can’t just ask people that! Tell her I said thank you. And I will. I’ll get it from William in the morning. They’re supposed to put us on a flight tomorrow afternoon. I’ll update you as I find out more. It’s six in the morning here and I need to reset my Circadian rhythm apparently [6:06].

I’ll call you in the morning and we can talk about the video after I look at the suggestions [6:07].

Michael: If you’re alive by then… [6:07].

Michael: And who is this William?! Why are there so many men where you are and why was I not invited?! [6:08].

Michael! And William is the guy who owns the hostel. He’s like 55 and MARRIED. [6:08].

Michael: As if that’s ever stopped me ;) [6:09].

Michael: Kidding! Sort of. Please call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time it is. Be safe. Love you Y/N [6:09].

Even though you’re probably going to Hell, love you Michael [6:10].

You locked your phone just as Jimin exited the bathroom, steam wafting from behind him. Black basketball shorts hung low on his hips, the waistband of his Calvin Kleins peeking through as he finished towel drying his hair. His thin grey shirt clung to his chest from it not being completely dry and you sank further into the sheets. You covered your face and took a deep breath. It was just one night together in the same bed. It would all be fine.

“Did you get to talk to Michael?” he asked while sitting on the edge of the bed. You nodded. “Good. I didn’t want him to think I had kidnapped you and held you hostage before I murdered you.” You snorted as you sat up.

“He didn’t actually say that,” you laughed. “Right?” You stopped when Jimin didn’t correct you. “Oh my gosh, Jimin! I’m so sorry. Michael is almost as dramatic as he is protective and I’m sure he didn’t mean to -”

“Jimin?” Of course, he would focus on only one part of what you said.

“That’s your name isn’t it? What people call you?” you asked, fidgeting with the end of the sheet, now wondering if you’d missed something.

“Yes, but I like the way you say it more,” he said with a grin, his wavy hair falling into his eyes. You groaned and threw the other small plush bear at him. He caught it easily.

“Are you always like this?” you interrogated.

“Like what? Devilishly handsome?” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows at you and you laughed again.

“No, extremely insufferable,” you replied. He laughed and the sound bounced off the walls, wrapping you up in its tone. He covered his mouth to try and stifle the sound. His grin cracked through him biting his lip, and you bit your own in response.

“For someone who finds me so insufferable, you sure do mirror my actions a lot,” he said with a chuckle. You released your lower lip and blushed.

“You are so cocky, Park Jimin!”

“I mean, once you Jim-in, you can’t Jim-out!” He shot you the finger guns before he realized what he had actually said. “I mean, not that I’m trying to fuck you -” your eyes widened “- I mean, if you’re down for that then I am too. 100%. Like seriously, fuck. I just meant that it wasn’t my intention to -” you hollered into the pillow as the words tumbled from his mouth. His smile was shy as he stood from the bed and set the bear on the nightstand with its partner. “We should go to sleep,” he mumbled and switched off the light. He cursed as he stubbed his toe on the corner of the wrought iron bed frame and you could only continue giggling at his misfortune.

“I’m glad my pain amuses you,” he said into the dark, his voice much closer than you expected. “Did you set an alarm?” You shook your head and he set one on his phone as he plugged both of your phones up to charge. He scooted back down and wiggled around like a dog circling their bed until he was comfortable, his back now facing you. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered over his shoulder.

“Goodnight Jimin,” you breathed.

You laid still on your back, your arms crossed over your stomach as you listened to Jimin’s breathing slow. The space between you was microscopic and you were acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body as the air conditioning blasted from the unit in the window. You turned over onto your side gingerly, facing the wall. It had been a while since you were in bed with a man and Jimin’s flustered words echoed in your brain as you pressed my thighs together. Speculating that he was interested in you was one thing, but having him admit it - even if it was only sexually - was conflicting. You scrunched your eyes shut tight as you locked away any inappropriate thoughts of what it would be like to not “Jim-out”.

You sighed in content as you pressed your body closer to his chest. One of his strong arms wrapped around your torso, the other tucked under your head, and his breath tickled the back of your neck as he quietly snored behind you. Your fingers traced along the curve of his palm while your brain slowly came to. Your legs were tangled under the sheet, intertwined with one another as you ran your foot up the back of his calf, surprised by the lack of hair you felt; Tiago’s legs were never this smooth.

Squinting in the lazy haze of the sunlight that peeked from underneath the curtain above you, you turned over. Instead of seeing tight blond curls lying against the pillow, you were met with the faint traces of black bean noodles and soft black waves. Opening your eyes properly, your eyes focused on Jimin’s parted lips. You jolted as you realized his soft embrace had caused you to remember your moments with Tiago. You stiffened when Jimin’s hand tightened around your waist and he pressed his hand against the small of your back, your t-shirt having ridden up in the middle of the night. It was then that you realized his own t-shirt had been discarded and your arms were trapped against his chest, his gold chain pooled around his neck.

Shit. You didn’t want to wake him, but you needed to get out of his hold, the triggering memories of Tiago too much to handle in this state. You tried to gently press against his chest with your arms, but Jimin only shuffled closer. You watched his eyebrows furrow in discomfort as your legs bumped one another’s before he ran his hand over the curve of your ass, along the back of your thigh, and hooked your leg over his hip. Your hips were perfectly aligned. You held your breath as Jimin exhaled, his face neutral, at peace and he rested his head on top of yours.

You pushed against his chest again and he groaned softly in his sleep as he rolled onto his back, not forgetting to bring your leg with him. Your head was against his bare chest and you heard the soft thump! of his heart. You closed your eyes and listened to it, lost in its steady beat for a moment before you remembered that you were trying to get out of his grasp and not succumb to it.

Pressing up onto your elbow, you double-checked he was still sleeping before you shifted to hover over him. Your knees were over his hips taking all of your weight as you tried your best not to press into the pillow with your hands, but not letting your ass brush against his lower abdomen. His abdominal muscles were almost as tight as the ones in his thighs and just as defined. You remembered his comment suggesting you should have asked to sit in his lap and you bit back a smile at your current predicament. Jimin shifted beneath you again and you froze, your smile dropping. He settled again and you exhaled; your heart couldn’t handle the back and forth.

The vibration of your phone startled you and you stumbled out of the bed to silence the call, nearly dragging the rest of the sheets off Jimin.

“Hello?” you answered in a whisper. You adjusted the sheets around his sleeping frame as he rolled over onto this stomach, his arm stretching out into your vacated spot.

“Y/N, why haven’t you called me back?” Adele’s voice rang out over the line. Had you seen it was her, you would have ignored the call. You slipped into the bathroom after grabbing your toothbrush and prayed the door would muffle some of the conversation.

“I’ve been on a plane, Adele. I haven't exactly had service to call anyone,” you stated, matter-of-factly.

“Well, where are you now? And why are you speaking so quietly?” she questioned.

“A hostel in Hong Kong. I don’t want to -”

“Hostel?!” she shrieked. “Oh Y/N darling, I know I raised you better than to wallow in low-class establishments like hostels,” she continued. You could picture the look of disgust on her face. You did not have enough energy to deal with her in your coffee-withdrawn state. Your temper was short.

“It’s actually very clean. We all can’t afford to live in unnecessary luxury like you, Adele,” you said while brushing your teeth. You spat at the thought of her in her high-end clothes and brownstone home paid for by different men.

“Your brother didn’t seem to mind the high-end luxury when he was here,” she replied smugly. you paused.

“When he was where?” you asked.

“Home. With me.” Her shit-eating tone was quite evident. “But you wouldn’t have known that.”

“Milo came home?” you asked again in disbelief.

Your relationship with your younger brother wasn’t as strained as your mother’s, but you weren’t on the best of terms either. You hadn’t seen him in five years. You still remembered how peaceful he looked as he slept when you kissed him goodbye. His calls and messages eventually stopped after a few months of you not answering.

“Of course he came home,” Adele snapped. “Miles enjoys spending time with his mother.”

You ignored her dig towards me. “How long is he staying?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe you should have told me you were in New York and not run off on the next available flight -”

“You know, at this point, I’m not convinced Milo even came by. You’re just gaslighting me to come home after all these years and it’s not going to happen, Adele. Stop wasting your time and stop calling my phone outside of emergencies,” your voice slightly raised as you rinsed your toothbrush off in the sink.

“You’ve become so bitter, Y/N. I never forced you to leave; you left on your own accord -”

“You didn’t want me!” you yelled into the phone.

“If that’s what you want to believe, then fine,” she said indifferently. “I’ll prove to you I wasn’t lying about Milo,” she sneered. She never liked the nickname you gave her son. Her prized possession.

“Don’t call him that,” you growled, the emotion welling up in your chest.

“I’ll call him whatever I want. You’re lucky I was in a good mood when I gave him your number and I hadn’t spoken to you before -”

“Goodbye, Adele.” You hung up the phone and braced yourself against the sink.

Your body shook as you tried to process what exactly had occurred. Milo was back in New York. Your precious baby brother was back home. Unless Adele was manipulating you again, Milo could be reaching back out after you had fucked your relationship up. She had given him your number. A sob wracked your shoulders and you covered your mouth to stifle the sound. Silent tears ran down your cheeks and you wiped them away furiously, upset that you were wasting tears on a situation so old.

“Shutterfly?” you gasped as you turned to face the door, a sleepy Jimin poking his head around it. “Hey, are you okay? You weren’t in bed - Wait, are you crying?” He pushed the door open further and stepped inside.

“No,” you lied and turned back to the sink, splashing your face with cold water. You pleaded with the Lord that he wouldn’t be able to see your shoulders shake as you tried to control your breathing. You shut off the water as Jimin turned you to face him.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He held your face in his hands, searching it for the answer to his question. You felt small under his gaze and extremely conscious of the little amount of clothes you were both wearing. You shook your head, trying to tell him it was nothing, that you were fine. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it. Can I give you a hug instead?”

“No,” you whispered. “I’d prefer if you didn’t right now.” He stroked his thumbs against your cheeks once more before he let go and stepped back. You didn’t miss the flicker of disappointment that flashed against his face as he nodded. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, finally feeling like you were back in control. “I would prefer if you brushed your teeth though. Your breath smells like noodles,” tiy said as you squeezed past him.

Jimin’s 10:30 am alarm went off as you were heading downstairs for breakfast, his teeth brushed and both of you dressed. You practically sprinted to the coffee machine and chose the biggest cup possible. There were a few other guests milling around the lounge area as breakfast was officially over, but Sonia had prepared something extra for you and Jimin knowing we were still extremely jetlagged, the 12 hour time difference taking a toll on your bodies.

Jimin was dressed casually again. A pair of olive green slim cargo shorts, an oversized black t-shirt, and the same black, white, and grey Jordans on his feet. His hair fell into his face as he helped himself to the instant noodles and fried egg Sonia served him, the two of them looking like mother and son as they chatted. It seemed as though Jimin also followed the same “pack additional clothes in your carry on” rule.

You sighed as you took your first sip of coffee, hugging the cup protectively between both hands. Closing your eyes in bliss, you let the hot drink soothe your nerves from last night and this morning, your conversation with Adele almost a distant memory. The energy flowed through you as you opened your laptop to read Julia’s updates, finally feeling prepared to handle whatever was thrown at you.

Hello Y/N!

Julia here. Thank you again for taking on our project. Michael was right to recommend you; your portfolio is absolutely stunning. As you know, we’re looking to promote our getaway package in Bali. Though we do want high-quality content, the company was wondering if you would be able to deliver a more “amateur” romantic feel. We’re marketing towards couples and would love to see some shots that represent that. You don’t have to be in any of the shots yourself, but it would be great if you could! I understand this is quite short notice, but I have complete faith in your ability to deliver.

Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any further questions!

Best,

Julia.

She had attached a few photographs of smiling couples on the beach and at dinner for reference. You groaned and rubbed your temples. You didn’t think there was enough coffee in the world that would be able to address these minor inconveniences. Intimacy was not your thing. Romance was not your thing. Love was not your thing, and yet here Julia was telling you to make those things a thing. A reality. You gulped down another mouthful of coffee, burning your tongue in the process.

“Food?” Sonia asked, pushing a plate across the wooden bench table in front of you. You smiled in thanks and began eating though not really tasting the food. Jimin’s eyes watched you carefully and you sighed, already knowing he was going to ask you if you were okay.

“Just work stuff, Jimin, nothing to worry about,” you said.

“You make it hard to not worry about you though,” he murmured, avoiding your eyes. “Sonia said you shouldn’t be working while you’re here, that you need to enjoy the city before you go,” he added.

“Tell her I have a really big project to complete and I appreciate her concern, but I can’t just ignore work,” you replied, pushing your fried egg around your bowl. Jimin translated again and Sonia shook her head before walking away. You hoped you hadn’t offended her.

“Is this for your Saipan video?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I got contracted by a travel company to create a “vlog” type advertisement for a getaway package they’re selling to Bali. Julia, the contact, sent over some new additions while we were on the flight and I’m not sure how I’m going to get it done, but they expect me to deliver, especially since Michael recommended me,” you finished.

“What exactly do you have to do?”

“Basically be in love and capture it on film.” Your mouth turned down in disgust at the thought. Jimin laughed at you. You turned your laptop to face him so he could read the email to show him you weren't joking.

“That doesn’t seem so hard,” he commented after he was done.

“For you.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Love is a beautiful thing. It’s everywhere if you think about it. I mean, look at Sonia and William. Don’t you remember the first time you fell in love? The pleasure it brought you, the happiness. You can’t tell me you don’t want to experience love like that again,” he said seriously.

You faked thinking about it. “Nope. I think I’m good.” You stood and poured yourself a second cup of coffee, wishing you could pour all the memories of Tiago down the drain. Especially after this morning. You tugged on your ears, the blood rushing to them as usual.

“That’s what you think, but I’m sure I can change your mind,” he said with his shit-eating grin. You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, Shutterfly. All you need is my true love and affection -” Jimin was interrupted by Sonia dragging William over to you, an envelope in her hands. She shoved it in his and waited for him to start speaking.

“Uh,” William scratched the back of his head, “Sonia wanted me to give these to you.” He handed the envelope to you. Sonia smacked his shoulder and gestured for him to continue before she turned her expectant gaze on you. “She said you should not worry about work and you should go and enjoy Hong Kong so she is gifting you with tickets to the Hong Kong Museum of Fine Art. It is a ten-minute walk and Jimin can show you his -”

“- favorite exhibits. Right. Thank you, William and Sonia,” Jimin interjected.

“You’ll go, right?” Sonia asked eagerly. You opened your mouth to protest but didn’t have the heart to say no to her in her bunny apron. Not when she had worked so hard to make sure you were comfortable and well-fed. But also because you didn’t want her to attack you with her wooden chopsticks. You nodded and she clapped in excitement before she started going off a mile a minute at William who cowered slightly away from her. Jimin chuckled at their interaction.

“Isn’t love amazing, Y/N?” he said wistfully as he cleared the table. You rolled your eyes and texted Michael that you’d seen the email, Julia was out of her mind, but you would do your best to complete the task so you wouldn’t disappoint along with the address of the hostel.

After returning your laptop to your shared room, you and Jimin set off for the museum in the sweltering sun. You were overjoyed that you’d chosen to wear your dark t-shirt from yesterday, though you were still conscious of your sweat stains being visible. Jimin looked elated as you walked through the busy streets and you struggled to keep up, your own Jordans way out of time with his own.

 “So you have favorite exhibits here?” you asked slightly out of breath. He slowed as if he just realized how far behind you were.

“Yeah, I was here a few months ago and stopped by. They have some pretty cool stuff here.”

You continued walking and you gasped as the museum came into view. Perched on the edge of the water, the building stretched along the harbor. Its walls were textured and stone grey. Clear blue windows peeked through the exterior and there was a steady stream of people loitering outside. You wished you’d brought your camera as you snapped a few photos of the impressive architecture on your phone.

Inside was just as magnificent with its low lights and marble flooring. The cool air conditioning was an additional plus as you and Jimin stood in the lobby. A large sign displayed all of the pertinent information about the exhibits available for view. You’d always been a sucker for museums and you felt lighter just being there.

“Aren’t you happy you came?”

“Very,” you whispered, looking around in awe. “Hey look!” You pointed to the exhibit directory, “Garland Sans has an exhibit showing.”

“Hmm?”

“Garland Sans. Michael said he’s having an exhibit in New York in a few weeks and wants to go. It’d be cool to see some of his work before then. I’m not too familiar with his stuff,” you explained. Jimin nodded.

“Yeah, sure. We can start with some selected works from the Chih Lo Lou Collection and work our way through?” he suggested. You nodded and followed him to the second floor, excitement thrumming in your veins.

You’d spent the better part of three hours roaming all of the floors in the museum with Jimin and spending most of your time at the Xubaizhai exhibit, the afternoon rolling in with ease. You were lost in the stories of the Ming and Qing dynasties, amazed at how detailed the small villages were depicted using ink and color. It was like reading the stories of their lives. It also didn’t hurt that Jimin was there to translate the calligraphy on some of the scrolls. He seemed to enjoy the Garland Sans exhibit less and you debated the motives behind each painting endlessly. Unsurprisingly, he was well-versed in the arts, more so than you and something he chalked up to hanging out with too many artsy folks, and you wondered what else you would learn about him.

“Don’t museums make you just want to fall in love?” Jimin nudged you with his elbow as you headed back to the lobby. You laughed loudly.

“Not at all.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything in your cold, dead heart as we walked around the museum. You looked so content and at peace,” he added.

“I was. That was the effect of the artwork, not you.”

“So you don’t think I belong in the Greek statue exhibit at the MET Museum?” He flexed his arms behind his head as he winked at me. You did your best to ignore the flutter in your belly as you disagreed with him. “It’s okay. I’ll win you over. Even if it’s only for a really good video. I haven’t forgotten that I’m your muse.” You shook your head at his usual attempt to flirt when his phone rang in his pocket.

“Yes?” he answered, irritated. It sounded out of place from his usual casual tone. He excused himself and you sat on a bench in front of the museum to wait for him.

The view of the harbor was stunning and you welcomed the gentle breeze keeping you cool in the 84-degree heat. You took a short video of the boats drifting at the dock, a few of them further out bobbing along with the waves. Your own phone buzzing distracted you from the serene riverscape, Adele’s name appearing on the screen with a picture attachment. You opened it and nearly dropped your phone.

Adele: Told you so. [16:57].

Below it, a photo of her and your brother. He was smiling into the camera as the two of them posed. Milo’s face had lost its chubbiness, his jaw more angular and his cheekbones more pronounced. His dimples were just as deep and matched the same pair Adele sported. That particular gene had skipped you; you got stuck with the freckles. His hair was cut short, different from the long floppy locks he used to wear in high school. How he had managed to take this photo without Adele ripping that gold hoop out of his nose was beyond you and you smiled seeing that your rebellious little brother was still there. Milo really had come home.

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

ⓒ joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[seizethesam]

Ode to an Angel-Chapter 1

Summary: You had been alone in this apocalyptic world since you got seperated from your old group and lost your brother. You were on your way to an old metal factory in the hopes of finding your former group when a herd of walkers dragged you in to the woods. You took refuge in a hut, where you met him. You have got a long road ahead and some reckoning to do.

A/N: Hey guys! the first chapter of my brand new Daryl series is finally here. I wrote for Sam Drake for a short period of time and took a looong hiatus. But it is finally time for reunion. I hope you will all enjoy it. Happy reading!!! xx seizethesam

Pearing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

This chapter’s recommended song is “My Least Favorite Life from “True Detective” by Lera Lynn. 

Youtube   Spotify

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

"So he took his wings, and fled;

Then the morn blushed rosy red.

I dried my tears, and armed my fears

With ten thousand shields and spears. "

-William Blake

The forest was not acting on your behalf. Every tree you dodged was slowing you down, which was the last thing you wanted. The herd of dead was gaining on you, limping their ways towards your direction. You assumed that there were at least thirty of them —and let's be honest, you could not take all of them.

You were exhausted, the only thing you wanted the most right now was laying on a comfortable bed, eating whatever snack you would wish to have. But no... Those days were over a long time ago. Now the only things you had were starvation, exhaustion, loneliness, and a bunch of walking dead that were hungry for your soft flesh.

You had been trying to push your happy remembrances to the back of your memory for a long time now that you started to fear if you had forgotten them. Your mom, dad, brother—No, you would never- could never forget him. He had been your rock since the world went to shit, he had been doing everything in his power to keep you safe.

Now you were alone in god knows where. You were making your way towards the old metal factory outside the city where your former group could’ve settled when the herd came out of nowhere and led you into the woods.

You glanced back at the herd and saw that you have outrun them enough to catch your breath for a second. You stopped and leaned your back against a tree, trying to stabilize your fast-paced breathing. The loud growling of the herd was filling your ears and the smell of the rotten flesh was starting to water your eyes, making your vision blurry. For split second you close your eyes, take a deep breath to motivate yourself to continue running.

Growling sounds of the herd were exploding among the trees and meeting with your ears in a raucous matter. I need to move, now... The earth was rough under your feet despite your shoes. You could not remember how long you had been on the road like this; an excruciatingly uncomfortable backpack on your back, a gun around your thigh, and a knife attached to your belt… The blisters forming on the soles of your feet told you that it had been a long time, real long time. 

You began walking through the dark green trees. The Georgian sun was shining through the tree branches, falling on your skin to warm your flesh. Your legs were failing to carry the weight, and eyes were struggling to stay open due to the lack of energy. You didn’t even remember the last time your belly was full let alone remembering eating something decent. For the past few weeks, your menu consisted of energy bars and crappy canned food.

Today on your lunch was half a can of beans and two sips of water. The sun was getting closer to its horizon as reddish sun rays reflected upon the shiny green tree leaves, the scenery imitated a thousand sunsets all at once. Your heart leaps up at the beauty of the moment. There still are good things. That was what you wanted to believe. 

“There still are good things” you whispered to yourself, a faint smile appeared on your lips as you admired the view. 

While drinking the beauty of the wild, reckless nature, you spotted a brownish-black silhouette from the corner of your eye. When you turned your head towards the figure, you could not help the soft chuckle. It was a cottage. Without thinking twice, you made your way towards the small wooden building which looked like a single room shelter built for hunting trips. You stopped your tracks at the front of the tiny porch. There could be walkers inside, or maybe people.

You needed to be smart, careful, and needed to make most of your weapons; A 9mm with two bullets in its clip, and a hunting knife. You still did not trust yourself with the gun, but you could handle your knife just enough, enough to keep you alive this far. 

Slowly you approached to dusty stairs of the porch, carefully you stepped on the first stair. It did not squeak. You take two more steps for the other two stairs. When the last wooden step raised a surprisingly loud squeal, you heard a familiar snarl inside the old shed. 

Automatically your hand reached for the handle of your knife, taking it out of its holster. You raised the knife in front of you with a defensive pose and slowly made your way towards the tiny window near the door. The window was failing to serve its purpose as it was covered with dust and dirt, you could not see through it. If there was an unfriendly person inside, he could see you wiping the window. You crossed looking through the window off the list.

You leaned your back against the wooden wall, held your breath, and just listened to what was inside, but you didn’t hear anything other than the dead’s annoying snarl. After a few moments, deciding that there is only one biter inside, you reached for the doorknob. 

To your surprise the door was not locked, so you gladly stepped inside. Across the door was a sofa slightly covered with dust, and to your left was a small counter with two small cabinets behind it. The tiny area on the left resembled an unfunctional kitchen, but still, it was something. There behind the counter, a walker was standing, mindlessly trying to move but hitting against the wall.

When you entered the cabin, it turned its attention to your direction and took a few shambling steps towards you. Your knees were shaking, heart pounding against your ribcage. Being face to face with a walker in a tiny space as this cabin sent shivers down your spine. Just like he had taught me, no time to be scared. With that thought, you wrapped your hand around the biter's neck and pushed it against the wall as a contained gruff escaped your mouth, carefully maintaining it at arm's length. You forced the knife with your other hand to its dirty, glassy grey eye, and towards its brain. The moment that its brain had greeted your knife, the body fell on the ground with a thud, allowing you to let out a comforting sigh. 

Without wasting any time, you moved to the kitchenette hoping to find something to eat, but more importantly, water. Your half bottle water was not going to last any longer than a day, even though you were drinking no more than needed. 

You started with the drawers beneath the counter. In the first drawer were rusty scissors and four pieces of nail. The second drawer- empty. The third times the charm- empty. The fourth drawer, well the fourth drawer was bliss. There were two cans of mushroom soup, a can of cooked rice, and a whole bottle of water that will help you another two days. You persisted with the cabinets, but your luck did not. You only found a short black worn-out rope, you did not know how to use it, yet you took it anyway. 

You laid all your belongings on the counter deciding on an inventory check. All you had were five canned food including the new ones, two energy bars, a full bottle of water and your half-full bottle, a pack of tampons, rope, a flashlight, half a box of painkillers, one roll toilet paper, toothpaste and toothbrush, a detailed map of Georgia, a box of matches, a swiss knife, sterile compress, a hunting knife, a gun, and two bullets. If you did not return to the highway of anywhere near the city, you would not make it any more than three days in the woods. The city was dangerous but there was more chance of finding food and water. 

You put your stuff back to your backpack without wasting any more time. You locked the door of the cabin and dragged the body of the walker to another corner. The stench was not unbearable but still uncomfortable. You did not have any other choice other than keeping it here. Otherwise, there was a chance that someone with ill intentions could spot the body and assume that someone was inside the cabin. You could not take that chance. After securing the door, you slowly turn to the dirty sofa, its designs are no longer recognizable because of the dirt.

You lightly took one of the cushions and turn it over to reveal the clearer side. It had brown and red plaid patterns. You could not help but remember the similar ones from your family's house. It was just like the sofa that you and your older brother used to play card games. Your heart sinks at the thought and you turn the other cushion as well. 

When it was all done and well, you laid on the sofa letting out a deep sigh. Your feet hanged from the end of the sofa and instantaneously all the exhaustion of the past few days sat on your whole body like an ox as your eyes slowly gave in to sleep. 

"No! One more!" thirteen-year-old you shouted at the older brother. He had just returned from college for the summer break, "You think I'm cheating?" he said disapprovingly. 

"I know you're cheating," you said raising one brow at your brother. "You haven’t lost a game since we started." 

"That's 'cause I'm a pro. Don't be such a sore loser," he said mockingly. He got up from his seat and made his way towards his old room, while you were venting to your mother about the game. A few minutes later he exited the room with one hand hidden behind his back. 

" Whatcha got there? " You asked. He revealed his hand and swung a little red piece of rope. "Here, take this," he said giving you the piece. "For your luck," You took it from his hand and realize that it was a bracelet with a four-leaf clover in the middle. 

"Very funny," you said smiling at the older boy, "Help me with it." 

He grasped the tiny piece of rope and gently tied it to your wrist. You lifted your head to face him, he was much taller than you now. 

"So much for a cheater," you said with a grin. 

Throughout childhood, you and your brother were as close as a brother and a sister could be. But you had never known what your brother thought, what was going on his mind, his dreams. 

You abruptly opened your eyes to see a man towering you with his tall figure. He was wearing a sleeveless flannel shirt and dirty, ripped pants that seem a little big for his figure. His one foot was on the small coffee table and had a crossbow aimed at your face. Shit. His piercing stare was making the situation even more fearful for you. Your heart was pounding like a drum set in a rock concert when you raised your arms to level your head in a surrendering pose. He still did not speak but you spotted a change in his stance. He must've noticed that you were afraid as he hesitantly lowered his crossbow just an inch, his shoulders stiffened. 

"Look, um…I-I don't want any trouble," you say when the man maintained the silence. His eyes were fixed on yours; it was almost like he was trying to read your thoughts. "You can take whatever…" Silence. "I don't have much, but…" You were slowly sitting up. 

"Stay put!" he finally spoke. His voice sounded like more of a gruff, demanding but not a yell." Put your gun and knife on the table,” he said pointing at your gear.

"No-I'm j-" you refused to give your gears that have been keeping alive. 

"Ain't gonna ask again," his voice was dangerously low. It was then you realized that he had a southern accent.  

"Okay," you say with a voice no louder than a whisper, and reluctantly put the knife and the gun on the table. He took and tucked them in his belt after checking the clip. He completely lowered the crossbow and made his way towards the kitchenette with hurried steps. He quickly checked the cabinets before he moved towards the drawers, in which you had left three of your canned food. He stopped for a second, then continued. You could tell that he was filling his bag with your food. 

"The hell ya doin' here?" he asked you, still busy with the bag.

"What?" You don't understand why he was curious all of a sudden.

"Ya alone in tha' woods just with two bullets." he said disbelievingly.

" I was on the main road when a herd dragged me here," you said not knowing if it is safe to share your plans with a total stranger. "I was waiting for the herd to spread out." 

He let out a growl as a response, but you couldn’t really figure out it meant. 

"Do you know how I can go to the old metal factory,” You debated for a moment whether to ask him where the factory was. Your former group had always talked about moving somewhere outside the city where they could be away from the walkers and draw in more survivors.

"What's there?" he asked drawing his eyes from his bag to you. 

"I-I don't know," you genuinely did not know what to expect from the factory, but you were willing to give it shot. This was the least you can do for your brother. He moved away from the counter when he was finally finished and stopped on his tracks to get a good look at you. 

You hadn’t seen yourself for a long time, but you could guess how bad you looked; greasy hair to the tips, hollow cheeks, dark under eyes, skin covered with dirt and blood… 

"Ya ain't too far", he finally said and made his way to the little window. "About twenty miles south, down this way" he continued pointing his finger out the window. “Ya got a map?” he asked. 

You nodded as you slowly took out the map from your backpack, laying it on the table. He knelt down across you and began to examine the map. After a few seconds, he traced a route with his index finger. 

“Ya need to go over tha’ river, there should be a bridge,” he said. This man just had taken half your food and now he was helping you. You did not know why but you were not interested in questioning his kindliness. 

At this point you didn’t even know who to trust, this man could even lead you into a trap for that matter. But you knew that the factory would be somewhere near the area he was showing you. 

“Thank you,” you said turning your head to face him. 

He got up from his knees as he let out a humming sound as a response.

       --------------

“Ya gonna need more than just two bullets if ya gonna take tha’ route,” he said putting your gun and knife back on the table and left the cottage closing the door behind him.

 Chapter 2

Author’s Note: The first chapter is here you guys! I must admit that it is a little longer than I’ve planned but please bear with it. I hope you all enjoyed reading it. It feels so great to finally share something with you. Feedback is always appreciated. Please send me your opinions about the story. 

[ad1thi]

and then there’s you | Au-gust Day 8: Superheroes/Superpowers AU

AU-gust masterlist

i took a brief hiatus but now im back!! this is possibly one of my favourite things ive written, ever

//

Steve was never expecting to get along with James. He didn't have the best start with Tony - even though he likes to believe that they've moved past that and have become good friends - and James' protective streak was well known. After all, the man broke records trying to fly back to New York fast enough and managed to show up just as the Hulk picked up Tony from the sky.

 He still remembers the way James landed around them with a thud, his faceplate snapping up and shoving all of them to the side so that he could get to Tony. He remembers the way Tony's face softened; the way James reached out with one metal encased hand to awkwardly rub his hair before settling on his shoulder.

 He remembers fiercely missing the time in his life when someone looked at him like that, like he was the reason the world continued turning.

 In retrospect, Steve honestly should've seen this whole thing coming, but he's still blindsided by the whole thing.

After the last of the Chitauri are felled down, Thor and James raging in the sky until they drop like flies, they regroup back at Stark Tower. It's almost too easy, over in a matter of hours, even though Steve feels like it's taken ages. They lock the Spectre away and clasp chains around Loki's body - and he can release a breath that he didn't know he was holding it.

 "Colonel Rhodes," he says, later, when they're all lounging in a beatdown shawarma joint, shamelessly taking advantage of an extremely grateful store-owner, “I just wanted to say thank you for all your help. Having two heavy hitters in the sky really helped us take down the stragglers. We couldn't have done it without you."

 James and Tony (from where he's resting on James' shoulder) both turn to him and give him identical looks, the kind that makes Steve want to duck his head and rub the back of his neck.

 "No need to thank me Cap," James says finally, "Just doing my civic duty." But he keeps looking at Steve, in a way that stirs feelings inside Steve that he thought had died when he went into the ice.

 Guess not.

 He nods once and is saved from answering by Tony grabbing the Colonel into another discussion. He takes another bite into his wrap, the food feeling wooden inside his mouth. Tony has one hand in the air, gesticulating wildly, but the other is wound around James, inter-twined with his own. It twists something inside Steve, and he tries to tell himself that it's just him missing his life before the ice. Before he was dropped into the twenty first century.

 He looks up to see Thor giving him an all too knowing look for a man who only met him a couple of hours ago. It makes him so uncomfortable that he stands abruptly, pulling both Tony and Rhodey out of their conversation.

 "I have to go," he says stiffly, "I have some work to attend to. I'll see you guys at the Helicarrier tomorrow at 0900 for a debrief," he nods at his team, "Colonel, it would good to meet you."

"Call me James," he says, nonplussed, "that’s what everyone who isn't this fella calls me," he thumbs at Tony; who's face twists in mock outrage.

 Steve doesn't say anything, spinning on his heel and all but running out of the shawarma joint, lest he dwell too strongly on the fact that James called Tony fella.

 Despite their horrendous first meeting, Steve and James actually get on fairly well. He's in New York a lot, despite still being on active duty. Ostensibly, it's because the War Machine - now rebranded as Iron Patriot armour needs regular check-ups and after what Tony and James mysteriously refer to as the Hammer incident - Tony is the only one who fiddles with it.

 It makes sense, since Tony designed the damn thing, but Steve knows that James is a genius of his own right. Privately, he thinks that James is equipped to deal with any and all faults in the armour, but he makes it a point to come for Tony. Watching your bestfriend strap a nuke to his back and fly into space with no concrete desire to return tends to do that to someone. Hell, if Bucky had pulled something like that he wouldn't have left him out of his sight.

 Besides, now that Steve has been living with him and gotten to know the man behind the mask so to speak, he can see why Tony inspires that kind of loyalty. The way he badly misjudged Tony still digs at him, even though Tony has waved off his apologies multiple times and promises that he harbours no bad feelings.

 Steve isn't complaining though. He likes that James visits, even though he frowns everytime James complains about how hard it was to finagle time with his superiors. Clint calls it his Captain America face, says that he makes it every time he thinks there's a fight. Steve doesn't know if he has a specific face, but he does know that it doesn't sit right with him that James has to fight that much to come stateside.

 That was the whole point of the War, that they would fight so that future generations don't have to. There's a lot to be said for the twenty first century. His country's proclivity with inserting themselves into every war that side of the Atlantic isn't one of them.

 Still, James' regular check-ups mean that Steve has gotten a chance to get to know Tony's bestfriend - since he winds up spending a lot of time in the workshop these days; sketching while Tony putters around. It's like white noise - the sound of a wrench or a blowtorch, interspersed with Tony and JARVIS sniping with each other, and it reminds Steve of the barracks, of the Howlies huddled around a single fire and sniping around each other.

 (It reminds him that he's no longer alone)

 When James comes however, the entire workshop lights up, and Steve along with it. Despite his best efforts, the smidgen of interest he'd felt in the shawarma joint has buried itself inside him, planted seeds and grown around his heart. It doesn't help that James is one of the most easy-going people he's ever met, the kind of person one gravitates to.

 He reminds Steve deeply of Bucky, but then again - Steve was never overcome with the urge to bear Bucky down and kiss him until they both couldn't breathe.

 "Steve!" James cries out, as the workshop doors open with the faintest snick, "It's good to see you."

Steve looks up from his sketchbook - where he's been drawing James funnily enough - and gives him a warm smile, "James. Good to see you. How's the Iron Patriot?"

"Don't call it that," Tony wags his wrench at Steve, looking like he's contemplating the merits of lobbing it at him, "You do not call it that in my workshop. This is a sacred space."

 "She's handling like a dream," James says over Tony, but he still walks over and pulls Tony in for a small hug before making his way over to Steve. The first time this had happened, Steve was almost jealous, but he's since realised that it's just a part of James' schedule. The need to physically remind himself that Tony is okay.

 "There's been a couple of tough missions," he continues with a grimace, after he's done surreptitiously looking Tony over and found his way to the couch where Steve is currently propped up. "I've definitely got some fresh bullet dents. But nothing Tony can't fix, isn't that right Tony?" he calls out to where Tony has turned back to his holo-screens and gets a half-hearted gesture in response that Steve takes to mean that Tony has heard James.

 "Enough about me though, not in the least because I could be arrested for going into detail," James reaches out and places his hand over Steve's; and it takes everything in Steve to not react to the touch, "You getting through the list okay?"

 A month into his stay at the Tower, Steve was listlessly chewing a banana in the Common Room when James came out for some water and saw him. "They taste weird," he'd said, when James asked if the banana had done something to offend him, "I guess I was just hoping it was something that hadn't changed."

James had regarded him for a second, and then pulled out a napkin from thin air, "You should make a list. It's what I tell most of my rookies, when they're going back after a long tour. Make a list of everything you want to catch up and work through it on your own pace. At the very least, it gives you something to do."

 Ever since then, Steve keeps a small black book on his person, filling it with a never-ending list of things. The entire team pitches in, depending on what it is that Steve is about to discover about the twenty-first century. Steve likes it best when James carves out time for him though.

 "I'm adding more things than I'm crossing out," Steve admits, and James clucks sympathetically, "but it's good. I've not Star Wars on my list next? And Tony made me promise to wait for you to come back so that both of you could introduce it to me together."

 James whistles lowly, but his eyes light up, "Oh I am so happy that you waited for me for this. Never listen to Tony, he thinks the prequels deserve rights," he bends down to whisper at Steve loudly, "we don't recognise the prequels."

"Is that prequels slander I hear in my safe haven?" Tony pipes up, spinning around to face them. He's still got the wrench in his hand, "Don't make me revoke your access honeybear because I will, don't test me."

 James holds up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm going to go freshen up," he says with a clap, "but after I'm back, we can discuss Star Wars strategy."

 Steve watches him go, until he disappears around the corner. When he looks back at the workshop, he sees Tony looking at him with a look that's half speculative, half sympathetic.

 "You know that nothing can happen right?" he says apropos of nothing, but Steve knows exactly what he's talking about, "It's against the law. DADT. If his superiors find out, his career is over. 's why me and him ended in the first place."

  Steve found out about Tony and James' history only a month ago, and the sting has faded. Mostly because he knows it was a long time ago, and neither of them harbour those feelings anymore.

 "I know," Steve says carefully, because Tony is still James' bestfriend, "and I wouldn't ask him to risk that. Doesn't change how I feel though. And if I have to wait, or hide it, or even ignore it until he's ready to deal with it - I'm ready for all of it."

 Tony nods, like it's the answer he's expected, "You'll be good for him Steve. He deserves someone who'll wait." Unlike me, who didn't goes unsaid.

 "I don't expect anything from him Tony," Steve says, looking Tony right in the eye, "but I can't just pretend I don't feel the way I do. Especially not if there's the barest possibility that he feels the same."

 Steve isn't generally good with these sorts of things, recognising interest. Still, he doesn't think he's imagined the looks he's gotten from James the past couple of times he's been over, over misread the touching, the talking, the borderline flirting.

 "He does," Tony confirms, "but like I said - nothing can happen." He says in a careful tone, and it takes Steve a couple seconds to cotton onto what Tony is implying. It leaves a rush through him, reminding him of back-alley trysts, protected by the shadows.

 "Nothing can happen," Steve repeats, and Tony pointedly turns his back as Steve leaps up from the couch and follows James out. He thinks about calling ahead, or maybe messaging - but there's a decent chance that James already knows about this conversation, since Tony wouldn't have brought it up unless James had expressly allowed him too.

 Steve might not know much about the twenty first century, but bro-code well enough.

 He knocks on James' door, thrumming with energy, and his heart stutters when James opens it in a towel; one around his waist, catching the droplets of water falling down his chest, and another around his neck.

 "Steve?" he asks, and there's no mistaking the hopeful tone in his voice. It confirms Steve's suspicions, that Tony was talking to him on behalf of James.

 Steve doesn't reply, just pulls him for a kiss.

 Fin

[pasteljeon]

buttermilk.

anonymous said: I know you’re on hiatus but I love your ot7 x reader scenarios and want give you an idea of one where y/n is at the dorm alone while the boys are in the studio or whatever and y/n goes though he boys clothes since there’s so many and has fun just seeing their different styles then the boys come home and see y/n in the clothes and it’s all fluffy and cute and funny too 💓💓

summary | while the boys are away, the babie will play.

pairing | OT7/Reader, poly!BTS

warnings | just really fucking soft, okay?

length | 1.3k

notes | hello, hello! i have returned for dis lil drabble cause i liked the idea sm. please lmk what you thought of it! hope y’all are doin well! school’s pretty hectic for me atm, but i’m happy to announce i’ll be returning as a writer starting december. :”)

.

.

.

It’s Sunday.

Sunlight filters in through the translucent curtain, dust particles swirling between empty spaces.

The silence is interrupted by the mellow beats of your lofi playlist, the ghost of warm bodies and sweet kisses lingering on your skin as you step into the shower.

It’s a lazy morning, woken intermittently by soft lips and gentle whispers of good morning, baby against your temple, fingers trailing down your bare arm.

Time has no significance on Sundays. Just you and the comfort of your home. A rare kind of serenity that’s usually lost to the chaos of something more. You like this, too.

You run a hand down the fabric, surveying the rows of clothing as you clutch the towel closer to your chest.

You could spend days in here, engrossed in the vast range of colours and styles. You know them well, enough to notice when new designs are added from their return. Adventure. A different story behind each thread. One that belongs uniquely to them.

“This one, because I thought of you,” he murmurs. You can feel his arms around you, easily pulling you close, chest warm and solid.

You drop your towel and reach for the first one.

.

.

.

Simplicity and elegance. Clean button-ups and black slacks. Wool jackets and Givenchy sweaters.

But of them all, your favourites have to be his assortment of pink hoodies.

“Jin.” Your breath tickles his collarbone, head resting against the broad expanse of his chest. He’s wrapped around you, making you feel so small. “Jin,” you say sleepily. He nuzzles your cheek. Whispers your name in a throaty exhale. Laces his fingers through yours and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“You smell so good,” he groans, burying his face in your shoulder.

You blink, reaching up to touch the marks on your neck.

His hoodie falls below your knees, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on the material making your head spin pleasantly. The sleeves fall much farther, and you press them against your mouth, hiding your shy smile and concealing the flush of your cheeks.

.

.

.

You make lunch dancing in Namjoon’s jacket. Belting out notes horribly offkey into the wooden spoon between stirs of your pasta.

He likes streetwear. Denim. You’ve never seen someone pull off denim like he does.

“Warm,” you whisper sleepily. His large palms cup your thighs, stroking your calf slowly. Safe. He always makes you feel safe.

“Can we stay like this,” he says quietly, smile lopsided, “Just the two of us, forever?”

“Some days I don’t want to share. Some days, I want you all to myself.” He doesn’t need to say it; when it’s just you, he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s written between every subtle gesture, the shaky exhale, the wrinkle between his eyebrows, the weight of the resignation in the unspoken words.

You eat lunch wondering if he’s eaten, too.

.

.

.

Dramas are watched in Hoseok’s tees. The ones that are oversized for him, even more pronounced on you. They’re easily transformed into spring dresses, thin and light as you tie up the excess material so the shirt flares like a skirt.

Sometimes they’re extravagant, expressive of his energetic personality and bold fashion sense. Experimental clash of street colours. Sometimes none.

He’s silent when you appear, decked in his glow, and he genuinely thinks he’s dying because he definitely can’t breathe and his dick is way too hard for such an innocent act.

You’ve always been beautiful, but fuck if you wearing his clothes isn’t the one of the most arousing sight he’s ever had the honour of setting his eyes on.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he groans, pressing you against the wall, one hand up the fabric, thumbing your nipples, the other hitching your leg over him as he ruts against you frantically. Like a fucking teenager in heat. He’s 25 for fuck’s sake!

Still, he can’t help himself. The urge to claim you. You’re not an object, something to be possessed, but shit –“You’re mine.”

You have to pause the episode halfway to splash water on your face.

.

.

.

You work in one of Jimin’s collection of loose-fitting v neck sweaters.

Frustration mounts as the cycle of typing, deleting and restructuring paragraphs of your thesis wears you down quickly.

“Don’t wanna be lonely, just wanna be yours,” he croons. Phantom strength braced against your stomach, tracing invisible love letters. He’s distracting, even when he’s not here.

You take a sip of your cold tea and push your laptop away.

You’ll try again tomorrow.

.

.

.

Yoongi’s turtleneck. You look ridiculous, you know, but it’s so comfortable and thick.

You’re lying on the ground of the living room, right under a sunbeam, the cool brush of the wood flooring muffled.

A nap sounds nice.

“No. Don’t move.” Voice hoarse, low. Stubborn. He’s so stubborn.

“Yoongi, I’m working,” you say, exasperated. He peeks up at you from under his fringe, eyes slitted. Arms tightening.

“No.”

He refuses to sleep elsewhere.

Miss you. You roll over.

.

.

.

Chicken.

That’s a lot of chicken, you muse as you examine the organized clutter of the kitchen.

Their love for chicken is unrivaled. “By everything but you. We’d give it up in a heartbeat if it meant you’d stay.”

“Japchae,” you say aloud, spinning on your heel. Jungkook’s plain black shirt flutters with your movement.

“Smells good.” Cheeky grin, doe eyes bright. A shiver ripples down your spine. Almost like he’s here.

But when you whirl around, it’s empty save for yourself.

.

.

.

You sleep in Taehyung’s button-downs. Today it’s Gucci.

[00:01] him: wait for me.

The bed feels too big. Pillow too soft. Mattress too hard. Blankets too suffocating.

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Chanted with so much anguish it perplexes you. As if it physically pains him to experience what he does. Gaze burning, nails digging into soft flesh, the bed frame trembles.

You finger the hem of the shirt, mind wandering.

They all have expensive tastes, evident in the high-end brands adorning every label, scores of zeros streaking across every purchase. But they are so, so deserving, and every piece is made fitting of its price.

To them, it means more than just the financial success—it means stability. Means they’ve made it.

Taehyung no longer had to dream of Gucci.

To you, it’s pride. Watching them grow has been a privilege.

.

.

.

“Baby,” he half-moans, half-laughs as he swallows your giggle, kissing you deeply. Lifting you up and twirling you around. “The day dragged on without you. I thought I was going to die.”

“You’re so beautiful.” A confession, sighed dreamily against your skin, nose skimming the column of your neck.

“I used to hate sharing so much,” he rasps. “But I can’t help it with you. It drives me crazy when I’m working and all I can think about is you. Your scent. Swallows me whole. Want you like this all the time.”

It’s overwhelming, the sheer love they feel for you. Heart racing, a feverish haze settling over glassy eyes. Desire and affection thrumming through their veins, wound like a livewire.

“I won’t go through the ordeal of not having you again.”

“So you’ll be able to rest in my embrace.”

“Welcome home.”

[mimiplaysgames]

And There Are Storms We Cannot Weather (Ch. 2)

Pairing: Terranort x Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word Count: 3, 872

Summary: It’s a simple plan: pull Xehanort’s heart out of Terra’s body. Until she learns the worst.

Read on AO3

A/N: What a way to break out of a hiatus: by going after the hardest WIP I’ve ever worked on. I have to thank @lyssala and @steadyknight, my beta readers, who assured me that this didn’t need as much work as I thought. I’m also just grateful for their excitement over this??? Thank you so much. ;-; ;-; ;-;

~*~*~*~*~

Are You Dead or Are You Sleeping?

Darkness is cool to the touch, a flame that numbs the skin with the breeziness of a damp, early morning. As she travels through the corridor, Aqua lets it coax her anticipation to sleep.

When a portal opens to a new world, she steps onto a precipice. The sudden exposure to sunlight and air is like withstanding a slap to the face. And yet... Feeling the sun again after all these years is the giddy reminder that she’s powerful. She’s free, she can go wherever she pleases. But does it have to blind her? It takes longer than usual for her eyes to adjust.

The grass stalks are as tall as she is. Canopies litter the horizon, and jungles claim the mountains beyond, except for the highest peaks. Near her is a lumpy dirt trail, flattened by people spending years traveling on foot. Now, she only has to determine which direction he took.

Darkness works in a network of shadows, always present and always shifting, stretching to giant proportions before shrinking into the tiniest crook. Shadows mold together. They speak and leave echoes behind. 

Aqua concentrates on tracing them. She starts with the way the wind sways the grass stalks, blending their shadows together, until they brace the footsteps of a stalking panther, hiding in a field of flowers. Pollinating from one flower, a bird takes flight. Now it soars, its grounded shadow passing that of a tree’s.

There he is, stepping over a root deep in a thicket. There he is, with his strange, beating heart, rumbling with the flutter of someone facing the edge of a cliff yet with the steady lull of meditation. He takes up too much space in the cavity behind his left breast, making it hard for her to sense Terra. Once she’s done with him, though, that will cease to be an issue.

“I know where you are,” she whispers, pleased with the way he whips over his shoulder, expecting to see a face behind him when there’s no one. 

But voices prevent her from moving. Footsteps climb uphill - two men - and Aqua billows into the shrubbery, first smoke and then nothing, just the empty space between.

“I don’t expect he’s much of a nice guy.” She recognizes this voice.

“Emperors rarely are. Unless they’re naked.” This one chuckles. 

Riku, Champion of Understanding The Darkness and of Having Enough Of His Own as he claimed on the black shores where he met Aqua, waits for a large, soft man to (casually) catch up. Riku is not tall - barely a couple of inches taller than Aqua - but he stands that way. Professional and confident. He stood that way when he fought against her, and stood the same when she won.

“Is there a story behind that?” Riku asks. She’s so close to him, just a leaf away from his shoulder, but he doesn’t notice her eyes staring up at him. He grins with the subtleness of someone who doesn’t like attention. 

The man scratches his scalp under his small hat, then rubs his fingers onto his sweeping poncho, with sandals to match. He must be a farmer. On his leash is a llama dragging a cart. 

“The sun punished our most wicked emperor.” The farmer takes this restful opportunity to sip water out of a spouted, clay pot. His smile is big and inviting, his stature enormous and big-bellied. He gestures wildly as if telling a story to children. “Set his clothes on fire every time he wore them. Or at least,” he shrugs, “made them feel that way. But the emperor wouldn’t stand down. He ruled naked in his own palace for the rest of his life.” He smiles. “But he always kept feathers in his hair. Man liked to have some class.”

“Don’t they all.” Riku rolls his eyes. “Is your emperor the type that likes to keep his clothes on?”

“Anyone with half a sane mind would.” The farmer laughs, but he doesn’t sound certain. If anything, he’s nervous and excited and naive.

“Can’t wait to find out.” Riku doesn’t sound convinced. 

“You know, I share a name with an emperor.”

“Pacha?”

“The one and only.” Pacha clicks with his tongue and that gets his llama going again. “Best emperor we’ve ever had. Brought down the price of milk. Who wouldn’t think I’m blessed with charm and good luck?”

This finally brings a genuine smirk to Riku’s face.

The men chat as they continue their way, disappearing downhill. It gives Aqua the opening to step out. 

It has to be some sort of escort mission. If a Keybearer is here, then there are wild Heartless roaming around. She’ll have to keep hers hidden. Either way, whatever Riku is doing is not her problem.

She hones in on her destination. Kicks off her feet and glides through the grove. It’s easy to catch up to Xehanort - blend in with the shadows, pass through the trees, speed up, go even faster. Her heart won’t lead her astray. With every yard, she burns with the vigor that darkness had numbed away. She heaves. She’s found him, she’ll pin him down, she’ll take him back. 

By the time she catches sight of his white hair, she snaps. She roars. Just seeing his face is a sharp reminder that no matter what happens, she has to see this through. Calling for her Keyblade, she attacks. 

He barely dodges, landing on his knees. He flashes a toothy grin like he’s baring fangs.

“You’re here,” he announces, and nearby birds scatter. “Never would I have considered myself so fascinating as to be worthy of your graceful presence.”

She scoffs and moves to strike. But he only laughs something hearty, with a boom. He floats backward into the thicket, waving his arm like he’s dismissively tossing a farewell. 

Xehanort hovers in circles behind the trees as though to shake her off. Which is stupid, really, when she could feel where he is.

But that’s what he wants, isn’t it? When she takes a moment to locate him, it leaves her open to attack - from the Guardian. 

It hovers close, blowing humid breath, muscles twitching like it’s in pain. It groans so deeply and so quietly she can only hear it as a whisper. She stabs it with her Keyblade and it lurches backward. She cartwheels away to create more distance, then stills to focus on Xehanort’s whereabouts. 

The process takes too long. The Guardian attempts to grab her. She dives, throwing herself father away. It is relentless, hurling spurple, fiery blasts. Overwhelming her. Not letting her stay still. If she’s ever going to focus, she’ll have to beat it into submission. Knocking her Keyblade into its face feels good.

But her focus has shifted.

Footsteps charge behind her. No time to react. Xehanort tackles her - strong arms around her waist - and throws her onto the ground with a grunt and a blow to the stomach. 

His hair. It’s brown. She’s face to face with plastic blue eyes and a smug, foreign grin. 

She stops breathing. Before she realizes.

“Get off of me!” She knees him in the gut. He winces and grabs his side while she crawls out of his grip and starts to float away.

He growls and grabs her by the ankle, whiplashing her back onto the ground. The Guardian picks her up by the forearms, clasping them together so that she loses her grip on her Keyblade. 

Aqua shrieks and her Heartless hear the call. The ground rumbles, the birds scatter farther as a tidal wave of Shadows slither to and fro in a fury. Help help help help.

The Guardian drops Aqua and disappears. She rubs her scalp to soothe the headache, only to find herself alone. Xehanort has gone, leaving nothing but his warmth on her skin. Straggling onto her feet, Aqua closes her eyes and follows his heart when she hears a courageous yell.

Riku catapults into the sky, a large Keyblade in hand, cutting through her Heartless right down the middle. The most vulnerable. He vanquishes one, its life force pulling and twisting and snapping Aqua in the shoulder before any identifying trace of it vanishes. 

Xehanort left her to face Riku alone.

“You’ve tricked me,” she curses. 

Her Heartless gather into a tornado, defending themselves. She summons energy from a pit deep inside her core - Darkness responds just as quickly as Light - and her heart throbs with the movement of water crackling at the touch of freeze. Sharing a tether with her, the Heartless absorb the same growth, stacking a barrier around their communion. It makes Riku’s strikes as soft as silk. She commands, “Take care of him.” 

She whisks away, deeper into the thicket until it opens up to a valley, riddled with boulders and divided by creeks. Xehanort doesn’t leave a scent but a trail of essence. His heart is beating quite rapidly now. 

Aqua doesn’t have much time until she loses her temporary upgrade, but soon she catches him in the distance, white hair back on center stage. He’s running, but too slow. She glides faster, her Keyblade ready to slam him at full velocity.

Right before she could run him over, he turns and blocks her attack with his Keyblade. They ricochet, a thunder clap booming the instant they touch. She gracefully lands on her feet. He collapses and tumbles onto his back, groaning as his Keyblade dissipates as quickly as it came. He doesn’t bother getting up. 

Good. He’s doing nothing but heaving, one hand on his shoulder as he gazes listlessly at the sky, not acknowledging her as she struts closer.

He chuckles. “Bested by scorn. I didn’t expect I’d live to see the day.”

“Get up.” 

He only lifts himself onto his elbows, fine with settling there. His eyebrow cocks, inviting her to do what she wants. “What sort of fantasy are you plotting?”

She snarls. But she has to take it easy. She can’t harm the body.

Aqua threatens his left breast with the tip of her Keyblade. Normally, this is a forbidden act. Normally.

“One where I’m drowning you,” she says, stalking the lines of his face, patiently anticipating the exact moment where he squirms. 

“How inconvenient.”

He may act unintimidated, what with the way he flicks his wrist as if her words bore him. But there’s still one truth: he ran from her. His eyes snake down her arm to the metal inches away from his skin. She presses the blunt end of her Keyblade under his chin and tilts it back up to face her, the metal digging into his windpipe.

Years of lengthy debates about matters of the heart - how it works, whether it’s born in darkness or in light, its purpose with intense emotion - have agreed on one thing: to touch a heart with a Keyblade is unspoken of. Its effect is irreversible and numerous. Creating new personalities, breaking the mind, erasing the memories, banishing the sense of self, cloning the shadow. The heart will always fight back against an act so unnatural that no Master has even tried to experiment with it.

At least not with Light. Nothing about this Xehanort is natural.

Aqua doesn’t want complications. Just a simple act of plucking his heart out of place and throwing it away to Where It Doesn’t Matter. Where the panthers can eat it. Where Kingdom Hearts can reclaim it. It doesn’t belong in Terra’s body, so it shouldn’t be difficult. Put him to sleep so he doesn’t fight back.

She’ll preserve the body in the same ocean that birthed her anew. The water will restore Terra back to (almost) normal. Darkness has miraculous methods. It gave her the choice to leave, something Light has consistently failed her with. It will keep him safe until he’s ready to talk. Maybe then, they can take something back for themselves when he’s not so different from her anymore.

She’ll have to be gentle.

“I’m taking your heart out,” she hisses. “It’s more than you deserve.”

Xehanort’s eyes carefully lock with hers as a new, knowing, self-satisfied, punchable smile inches its way to his ears.

“Whose heart?”

Her teeth grit against each other, nipping her lip. He’ll regret asking stupid questions. Biting her tongue, she focuses on what’s most important.

The heart is a proud organ. It sings with its own voice, sheet music on display as a record of a person’s hopes for the future, their fears developed by the past. She expects one of them to be silent. 

But it isn’t. 

It’s a mess. 

It’s a mess, a cannibal, a wrestle of two where one drinks breath from the other. When one pushes away, the other pulls it in. One beats and the other follows rhythmically. Words are shared, dreams are rewritten. Muscle and sinew intertwine and blend. There is no point where Xehanort ends and Terra begins. They are two. They are one. And when they both notice she’s reading them, together they shush her. To throw one away is to shred them apart. She’d have to say goodbye. 

So all Aqua does is stare at him. All he enjoys is her hesitance.

A crackle of twigs and the rustling of leaves announce Riku’s stumbling arrival, panting. When he sees them, Keybalde to heart, his eyes snap open. 

“Don’t do that!”

Riku uppercuts, knocking Aqua’s Keyblade away. He steps between them. If he thinks he’s doing the right thing, he’s stupid.

Aqua doesn’t give him the benefit of explaining herself. She can’t even speak - she gasps from his sudden appearance, and hammers away at him by instinct. Riku is quicker, his strikes are harder, a prodigy in every movement. They flurry through attacks, powering each swing with magic but neither of them back down. 

Here her Heartless come, colliding onto the ground and set to wash Riku over. He glances at them - there is that perfect opening. She swings from a direction meant to mislead him. He takes the bait. Landing a blow across his fighting arm, she throws him into a boulder. 

But Xehanort is gone. Again. 

“You made me lose him,” she mutters.

Xehanort has left this world entirely, and worse. He’s nowhere to be found. But how is that possible? She should be able to tell where he’s going, where he’s landing. Maybe he’s too far for her ability. 

“Find him,” she says to three of her Heartless: the hunter, the butcher, and the accused. 

Behind her Riku groans, holding his head. Pacha scurries into view, pushing branches off his face, and helps Riku up.

“Are those monsters going to move?” Pacha quietly asks Riku about the horde near them, waiting for her instructions.

“I don’t know. I’m fine, don’t fuss.”

“Monsters?” Aqua says, turning over her shoulder.

Riku is still shaking on his legs when she approaches, and Pacha holds his arms out in surrender. But she doesn’t attack the farmer. Instead, she pins Riku’s neck between the boulder behind him and her Keyblade, chipping minerals from the surface.

“Is that what you see when you look at me?” she calmly asks Riku. Because Pacha doesn’t know any better. Because Riku doesn’t understand what he fights. “Do you think that’s fair, after everything I’ve been through?”

Riku gapes at her. He has normal eyes, the color of turquoise. He soon wipes that look off his face. “It’s not.” At least he’s respectful. 

“Please don’t hurt him, miss,” Pacha pleads, leaning forward. Attempts to touch her shoulder with assuring intention but he’s lucky he doesn’t make contact. “We have a misunderstanding. He means no harm.”

Pacha is trying to cater to her point of view, his round brown eyes earnest and desperate. His voice is warm like tea, giant chin tense yet unassuming. She hates how terrified he is of her. Golden eyes of a monster. 

“I’ll spare him,” she whispers. “Just for you.” 

With that, she swings a dark blast that sends Riku flying off yards away, knocking him out. Pacha runs after, picking him up in his arms. He glances over his shoulder to see if she would chase them. Do not worry, Pacha, she wouldn’t. She simply doesn’t want to be bothered. 

Her chosen three have not moved from their spot though, twiddling their claws around their antennas. 

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” she asks them. 

Aqua tries again and connects with the expanse between the worlds, but he has disappeared from her radar.

She tries not to panic. She summons a portal, reaching for him among the shadowy tendrils in a network that surveilles everything within deep space. It licks many stars, many worlds, many lights, millions of them, earth and people and animals, in a void that stretches forever. All hearts beat just past the border where none can survive. She goes further, to pockets with no worlds and holes with no stars. The one heart that matters isn’t here, and isn’t anywhere, as if he stopped existing.  

“What kind of magic is this?” Darkness should not be able to cloak him this well. 

So he is nowhere in the Realm of Light or In Between. There’s one more place to check. She leaves the void, coming back to the desert where she found him the first time. Night blankets it now and blankets it empty. 

Digging her claws into the sand, Aqua sinks into black, floating down to a seabed that houses a tipping clocktower, where night doesn’t stop and her thoughts mute. Darkness watches over its own, the same creatures that hungered for her heart before now casually passing by. A Darkside acknowledges her presence with short interest, as though it’s not an intimidating giant but a child. She asks the Realm of Darkness if he’s here. He’s not. 

Aqua swims back up, breathing only when she reaches the desert.

What’s left to do now? Nothing, but wait for him to turn back on again. He’ll have to - whatever magic he’s using can’t last forever.

In this moment of quiet, Aqua crashes into one revelation: she’s tired. She’s never felt that way in the Realm of Darkness. The desire or need to sleep hasn’t occurred to her in years. At first, she avoided it out of fear that she would miss a rare chance of escape. It’s bizarre to measure how heavy her limbs have become, to feel her eyelids wither. She’s weak.

She could always go back to the Realm of Darkness and shake it off, but it’s not a bad weakness. As she walks, she takes note of how her thighs feel sore and like jelly all at once, fatigue settling beside the determination to keep functioning. The moment she rests will be bliss - the thought of it is alluring, as though sleep is a forbidden sweet. She wants a taste. This is what it feels like to be alive. 

Ahead of her is that same cave where she left Terra’s armor. It’s as good a place as any; she’ll be hard-pressed to belong somewhere else. The armor sits in the same spot, covered in dust.

“You’re dirty,” she chastises.

Sitting across from it, she wiggles into the ridges of the rockface, which stab her around the spine, and brings her knees to her chest. Her claws brush against her skin as she hugs herself, frigid. The dirt beneath is rough and stiff on her muscles, but they agree with the rest, sighing something delicious with relief. The stars here are needle pricks in the sky, like they’re farther away. They leave the desert dark, the wind howling and cold. Aqua shares the view with her Heartless, who slither into the cave and fill it up.  

Next to her, the armor sits tall. Terra wasn’t always tall, but the last few years together proved otherwise. 

But Terra was always strong. Training with him was never about beating him through brute force. A fool’s errand, really. It was about outmaneuvering him, outsmarting, outpacing. The best training she could ask for to prepare her for the worst.

Terra won at wrestling, almost unanimously. One knee hooked behind hers, and huge arms wrapped around her back, and one hand pushing her pelvis hard against the ground, and his shoulder to her face, smelling of sweat and yeast and faded sandalwood from the shower early that morning. And heat. His heat on her.

Give it up, he would say. 

Forfeit, he’d continue when she wouldn’t stand down.

Really, Aqua? You’re such a sore loser. 

Maybe that was slightly true. Aqua would press a hand somewhere where his fussed shirt exposed skin - near his neck, or the small of his back - and summon ice, jolting him with the speed of a surprised cat. Still, he’d have the nerve to hold onto her despite the torture, to drag her where he landed, because he despised losing just as much. Because he liked to stay close. Because she liked it, too, and slowly he figured that out.

That’s cheating. Terra’s laugh shivered, as rigid as his voice. 

What Aqua would give to hear that laugh now. She takes her tattered sleeve and wipes a layer of dust off the armor’s visor, gently so she wouldn’t knock it over. 

Terra’s (Xehanort’s) heart, their one and strongest bond, mesh together. Aqua mimics by intertwining her own fingers, red on red like bloody exposed tissue. One by one, she unlaces them, playing images of untangling threads of muscle in her mind over and over, ripping the knots that can’t be undone. When the time comes, Aqua can’t be sure she’ll have the strength to do the same to him. 

She can do it. For his sake. She can’t for his sake. 

One of her Heartless - the youngest and oldest - paws at her lap. Heartless can’t be understood like humans. Part of succumbing means to strip themselves of the experiences that mark them as an individual from all the rest. Reading their hearts usually turn up nothing, but Aqua may get a memory of a long-forgotten occupation. Flashes of what their friends sounded like. Sometimes a face. Never a name. Always a turbulent feeling.

The youngest and the oldest is a six year old, turned a thousand years ago. A blonde girl in a blue dress, looking up with curious eyes. She wants reassurance, alarmed by Aqua’s reminiscence. After all, this girl doesn’t have strong images of her past life to hold onto, so the sudden rush of feelings must be painful in the only way nostalgia could deliver. 

“It’s okay to be alone,” Aqua says, petting the Shadow. “It’s better that way. You get more resilient when you don’t have to rely on anyone.”

When you don’t have to feel disappointed. When you don’t risk betrayal. While Heartless swarm together, they can’t communicate. They don’t understand much except for hunger, until they get distracted and they forget, numbing over and leading a simple life.

It’s so much better than remembering everything, hoping someone would come for her as long as she stayed patient. 

Aqua can spare some time as she leans her head back against the stone, knuckling her skull. The Heartless cradles into her arms.

Aqua has waited for twelve years. One more night doesn’t compare.

A/N: This chapter makes references to Emperor’s New Groove (2000).

[worldcakecakecake]

The Red Mask

In 18th century Valencia, Spain, thrives the legend of the Red Mask, a character with stories of bravery and heroism that have enchanted Lovino Valenti since he was a young child. On a new business deal, his family moves from Naples and Lovino finds himself wishing for adventure and action away from his duties in this new Spanish city. He is given that chance when he joins a group of masked heroes that fall under the command of the famed Red Mask. He grows a close and fiery relationship with the masked man of his tales and dreams, and without knowing his identity, he lets himself be swayed by his seduction, trust and daringness, to passions surely forbidden when he doesn’t even know his actual name or who he really is.

So, yes, I know I said that The Red Mask will be in hiatus, but after thinking about it, I decided that instead I’m just going to post whatever amount is good for a chapter instead of filling a full draft page. Either way you guys were gonna be kept waiting, but I think this is the option that makes you guys wait less. I hope you enjoy!

                                                              Chapter 2

Lovino had awakened early, unusual for him, but in all honesty, he was excited to be in a new place, a new city, a new country and wanted to enjoy well from his first morning, adjusting and getting to know how the sun shone.

 Perhaps only two servants were working. He left his brother asleep in the bed and he hadn’t heard of nonno yet.  The house was in a delightful silence, his steps adding to this melodious morning, letting himself breathe it all in, trying to control himself from skipping to the breakfast room. He was proud to admit he was happy.

 “Buenos dias!” It had broken the moment he was met with the other, already taking sitting in the table and enjoying from a drink. Lovino froze at the entrance, nervous, fretting, forgetting his words or how to even react.

 “How do you feel?” Antonio smiled in utter calm.

 “What are you doing here?” Lovino found himself asking, his eyes suspicious, locking into the Spanish man as if it could give him some sort of truth.

 “Um…” Antonio gazed about, wondering truly what the problem could be. He looked over himself, to his drink, even patted his hair to make sure he presented himself as he intended. “…having breakfast,” he shrugged.

 Lovino rolled his eyes, then remembering he was to live there and thus it was obvious he would want to have breakfast with them. “Never mind,” he simply uttered, taking seating, blessing that there was already bread and fruits on the table, filling a small presented plate. Lovino continued with his food like he was the only one there, not sparring a word and Antonio would just sit there…staring, taking occasional sips from his drinks, as if waiting for some kind of show.

 “What?” Lovino easily tired of it.

 Antonio shrugged, “was kind of hoping you would give me your good morning as well.”

 “I don’t feel like it.”

 “It’s simple courtesy.”

 “I don’t feel like giving it to you right now,” he took a harsh bite of his bread, loud and messy as to keep it sole in the room.

 Antonio still kept his smile and continued his watch, switching from the other to the decorations on the walls, on the plates, on the table, letting that silence reign. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll give me a good morning,” he hoped.

 Lovino shrugged, “let’s see if I’m in the mood.” He was done, he could pretty much stand and leave by now, but he was used to always spending his mornings with his grandfather and brother, chatting and being granted his duties for the day. It didn’t seem like he should go clean anything, or go to the marketplace, or help his brother with something he couldn’t carry…but he had to be given something. He refused to give another word to this stranger or to stand without having spent the morning with his family, so he joined him on the non-impressive staring, on the same details, colors, admiring, one pretending the other wasn’t there. Graciously they heard other sounds, footsteps, some rushed, stumbling, surely a fall, the other prepared, sure and with clear direction. Lovino could easily tell who with a roll of his eyes.

 Feliciano was the first to reach, still in his night clothes, legs bare but as excited as if he was properly dressed for a party. “Good morning!” He shouted well for the entire house surely.

 “Good morning!” Antonio returned just in earnest, with a glance to Lovino surely hinting at how it should be done. Lovino scuffed and completely turned away.

 “It’s so nice to have someone new for breakfast. Is it all right? Do you like it? If anything I can go make you something!” Feliciano excited.

 “Feli, amore, calm down, no need, we now have cooks that can do just that,” and so Augusto introduced himself to the day, dressed poised and well to deal with business surely.

 “I would still like to make something from time to time,” the younger pouted.

 “And you will have that chance! But for now, let us relax and enjoy our fist morning here, properly.” He sat down and Feliciano followed along, starting instant conversation with all in the table. Antonio joined simply to have a chat, while Lovino remained mostly silent, glaring whenever Feliciano mentioned something too over the top.

 “-and now I am sure that this mansion is in fact, not haunted,” he declared with a deep smile, flowing his knife around as he spread butter on his bread.

 “I told you so,” Augusto commented with his own smile, enjoying his younger grandson’s childness.

 “Honestly, Nonno just mentioned the couple and you suddenly made up this tale and you actually believed it,” Lovino rolled his eyes.

 Feliciano shrugged, “you never know.”

 “I told you they died in Morocco.”

 “Maybe they were really attached to this place.”

 “It is a gorgeous house, I can see why someone would want their spirit to continue on here,” Antonio seemed to defend Feliciano’s absurdity.

 “Exactly!”

 “Well, last night gave you enough proof that not.”

 “I hope you actually go back to your own bed tonight.”

 “Don’t you like sharing the bed with me?” Feliciano pouted.

 “It’s not that I mind, I just think we should enjoy from our chance to have our own space and privacy.”

 “This is really your first time having a home like this?” Antonio wondered.

 Lovino wished that they didn’t inform so openly to a stranger.

 “My boys, yes.”

 “Nonno belonged to a noble family of merchants in Rome, but after he met our Nonna, he eloped and ran away!” Feliciano eyes always glowed this way whenever he told the tale.

 “I confess, yes. She was Greek and from very poor standings. My family heavily disagreed with the match as they didn’t think it would be fruitful for our business. But my love for her was stronger than whatever scorn my family held. So we ran away and settled in Naples where I started building my own trade. We also spent some years in Florence and Venice.”

 “And he had Mamma, then Mamma had us! And we were really happy…even though we never got to meet our Nonna,” Feliciano saddened, Lovino giving in but only slightly, while Augusto seemed like he had been heavily pierced.

 “If…I may ask…what happened?” Antonio wanted to dare.

 “Died in childbirth…” Augusto drank to try and swallow whatever despair, “I had to raise our daughter by myself.”

 “And…where is your daughter?”

 The air became tense, frowning instantly when it had been so joyous.

 “She was killed,” Lovino made the instant blow, wanting to get over it and let it pass before it lingered and made them think about it longer.

 “Oh…that’s…that’s…awful, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have intruded-”

 “If you are to live here, you were bound to find out at some point and I’m sure you will learn more.”

 Antonio still held deep questions but preferred to leave it for a time they could be more comfortable with his presence, perhaps considering him a friend by then. “She must have been a good soul. I am sure it is resting well in heaven with our lord.”

 “Lovino and I think she’s an angel up there,” Feliciano admitted such childish notion, making Lovino want to sink beneath the table. Antonio found it endearing, smiling at Lovino to show how sweet he thought it.

 “But now,” Augusto dropped his cutlery on his plate to signify he was done, “I want my boys to get to know their surroundings and discover everything this city has to offer,” he smiled to them, expectant and excited. “I was hoping you could perhaps offer them some sort of tour, if you do not mind that is, Antonio.”

 “I’ll be glad to!” He sounded truly delighted.

 Feliciano clapped, ready to jump that instant and head off.

 “Nonno, I really think I should help you with-”

 “Oh, Lovino, there is no need! I’m sure your time will come, but for now, enjoy yourself, learn about your new city and then you can properly focus on business… all right?” His grandfather cradled his head sweetly, a gesture that hadn’t changed since his childhood and he hoped shall forever remain, for it did well to calm, remind of love no matter the harsh circumstances…even his age and their partnership in business now.

 “…sì, Nonno.”

 “I leave you to enjoy the day,” he smiled in farewell and left them to their plans.

 Feliciano hurriedly went to change, while Lovino sighed, moving over to wait for Antonio and Feliciano by the main door. He preferred not to spend more silent alone time with the cleric.

  It was a weekday, yet the Italian boys found the city to be as plentiful as if a festival was occurring. It was hard to move themselves between when they walked down small gorgeous streets with sellers offering the most fantastic wares, but when they reached open squares, they could breathe and admire buildings formed with arm and unique craftsmanship. Antonio did well to tell countless of stories, explaining and bringing more knowing to the boys’ mind of the city. Feliciano was already enamored, while Lovino constantly craved for either something to eat or to head back home.

 “And he went alone…to Thailand?!” Feliciano was incredulous.

 “Not completely alone…he did bring Miss Luna Odalis Gutiérrez Martirio!”

 Lovino thought it would have been more exciting if Antonio had not dramatized and sung the name so well, but it had Feliciano clapping.

 “Oh! So, they did runaway together! I hope they’re happy over there!”

 “There’s a rumor that the last message that was sent to the Ibarras spoke of a coming child.”

 Feliciano got even more excited and Lovino rolled his eyes, in its change noticing a stand with gorgeous artistry of stone, in wondrous colors, some shinning with precious jewels. He didn’t care if he stood back alone as he gazed at a particular one, depicting a splendorous harbor. In his distraction, he was unaware of an approaching carriage, running widely and ignorant to the calls of guards. By the time Lovino heard and noticed, he was well on the way, cowered for a coming hit surely. He was pulled to an alluring scent, feeling a strong chest and a comfort he didn’t think he could feel in such crowded streets. In this sudden fear, he lounged and wrapped his arm well around this body, practically cuddling into it as he breathed heavily, watching the carriage continue its rampage throughout the city unaware of what it had almost done.

 “Are you all right?” And Lovino met enchanting green eyes, with a smile and a frame that exhilarated his heart in a way he rather it wasn’t in.

 “I-I..I’m fine!” And he pushed him away, rubbing his suit off as if it could remove the gesture.

 “We’ll be done in a short while, I just want you to see this amazing view, so I’ll need you to stay close.”

 “Fine…fine,” and Lovino followed, keeping his head on the ground now, on Antonio and Feliciano’s footsteps, hoping for no more distractions.

 The walk took a couple of more minutes, elevating high walls and roads until they stood at a good height, the city well-presented around them, close, gorgeous and with a wonderful warming sky to complement. Lovino awed as Feliciano, both coming to the edge, to the hold of the railing as if with it they could take the city into their hands.

 “Oh…it’s spectacular, Antonio!” Feliciano worded the compliments surely Lovino thought as well.

 “I’m very glad you like it,” he smiled, taking Lovino’s side in the leaning.

 “Have you lived here your whole life, Antonio?” It seemed like Feliciano was going to do most of the talking and questioning.

 “I only moved when I was sixteen, so…I’ve lived about fourteen years here.”

 “With you family?”

 “The church is my family.”

 Lovino finally raised with a questioning gaze, half open mouthed that Antonio was eager to hear words from.

 “Oh, that’s very nice! Antonio, you’ve told us many great things about the city and it was all wonderful, but, is there something I can ask about that I hope won’t be too much?”

 “Go ahead.”

 Lovino was terrified he would mention it.

 “I, and I know Lovino too, want to know if you’ve ever seen the Red Mask!” At the famed hero, he came close and whispered.

 “The Red Mask? …You know about him?” Antonio tried to contain large amount of surprise.

 “Of course, we do! We’ve been hearing all the news ever since they started with a sword fighting contest in Salamanca! The Spanish sailors and merchants that visited Nonno would sit me and Lovino down and tell us the stories. We still love those tales dearly!”

 “You do?” Antonio directed it with a smirk to Lovino.

 “Used to…”

 “Don’t lie, Lovi. Just last night you told me one of them.”

 Lovino cringed and tried to sustain himself from shutting Feliciano with a hurting grasp of his ear.

 Antonio chuckled, a heavenly ring to get Lovino smoothed. “No shame! I myself tell the stories to some of the kids in the church and I get as excited with them as if the first time I was seeing him.” Or as he wasn’t him.

 “So you have!” Feliciano raised and Lovino had to grip to contain his own.

 “Well, this is his city, everyone has taken a glimpse at all kinds of actions.”

 “Like which one?” They begged wanting a tale, and Antonio could see that Lovino held that same openness of his ear. Antonio smirked and began one of his most recent adventures.

 “-and thus the ladies were saved. The Red Mask prevented that cart from reaching and dealt with the culprits. I was waiting for the shipment actually and met with the Red Mask himself telling me what happened, along with one of his companions, Neblina, the Mist Mask.” And the two smiled, a story well told. Antonio felt successful.

 “Does he really wear the Red Mask? All in red? Is it true that his eyes are as green as they say?”

 “How about we wait?”

 “For what?” Lovino questioned, showing disappointment for not being able to hear.

 “For you yourselves to meet him.”

 Feliciano glowed and clapped at such a coming chance.

 “Will we…really?” The was the most excitement Antonio could get out of Lovino that moment.

 “Like I said, this is his city, and from what I’ve heard, he’s working on a big rescue right now.” He grew serious, leaning more so to the views, looking, finding the dark palace nestled well, one Feliciano and Lovino could spot with his intense stare.

 “Do you know what about?” Feliciano asked.

 Lovino left his gaze on that palace, imagining it had something to do with it. To prove him so, Antonio pointed at the very place.

 “Keron Montaje.”

 Feliciano instantly gasped and whimpered, moving aside, shaking and tears quickly reaching his eyes. Lovino came to him, embraced, soothed and hummed words of comfort. Antonio hated that he could only but watch, only an extension of his hand ready to help in what the brothers needed.

 “Are you all right?”

 “I-I’m fine, I…I’m fine.” Yet Feliciano’s eyes were still reddened, leaning into his brother’s neck, wanting remain in that shield for now, not at all an assurance to Antonio.

 “Sorry, we just…don’t like hearing that name,” Lovino spoke.

 “I’m very sorry I mentioned it, I didn’t know…”

 “It’s all right, we…don’t like talking about it.” He hoped those words were enough of a warning to not ask any questions.

 “You…you know the Montaje?”

 “Yes…in ways we would prefer not to.” Lovino held Feliciano tight, caressing on, continuing his hums. “…he’s here…isn’t he?”

 Antonio sighed, looking once again to the palace, still hauntingly there. “Yes…I’m afraid.” Antonio held himself well from going on, Feliciano still in his state, not at all liking the glowing person he had recently met reduced to this.

 “Let’s head back now. We need to relax.” The brothers nodded and Antonio followed behind them, his body covering whatever glimpse to the evil place.

  Feliciano’s dinner that night was short, heading straight to bed afterwards, well, Lovino’s.

 After that discovery, Lovino doubted whatever chance at getting Feliciano sleeping in his own room, but understood, and let it, caressing his hair, whispering words of love and mentioning as many times as he needed that he was there, as well as Nonno and even Antonio.

 Two weeks had passed since the event, since they moved and since they found out. Antonio did well to not question despite how highly he wanted to. He continued his work as their guest, offering help in the household, in Feliciano’s teachings, bible readings, even words of advice in the business.

 Three days and Lovino was back into papers, numbers, accords, being an apprentice to his grandfather and learning as much as he could of what would one day be his company. It was hard to concentrate when that single name repeated, raging, sometimes taking it out on papers with complains or numbers that drove him mad. There had to be something that could be done, he could get justice, revenge, finally act and save, but a look to the thrown letters, checks and bills on the ground reminded him that his mind shouldn’t go as wild, shouldn’t endanger, shouldn’t worsen.

 “Lovino…these stories are just that, stories to excite your mind and keep your hopeful. We all need this sort of escapade from our dull, but they should remain as that. Let them do their job to protect, they know well the consequences and have prepared themselves for them, but you should focus on being safe. I’m sure it’s what the great Red Mask would want,” he heard his mother’s past voice in his head, he could almost feel her caress on his shoulders, taking his hair, kissing it, with another tale, another distraction, not these tragedies…not these papers.

 He sighed, noticing the darkness the day had become, dropping everything and decreeing himself done. He was comfortable in his chair, leaning back, stretching, even giving himself space to breathe. He should probably get to bed then…Feliciano was probably waiting for him…or he could surprise and could have gone to his own room. He stood, decided on snatching some frosted cookies from the kitchen while everyone was surely asleep and he thought he had the house pretty much for himself. He took four, successful, no one to spot him, munching happily, sucking his fingers and aweing at the taste, but even that wasn’t enough to distract him from the guarded object.

 It was kept in one of the reading rooms, centered along with all the shelves filled with books of history, art, science, poetry and of course their adventure and fantasy stories. Lovino entered the room, hypnotized by the elegance of the sword that was kept well in place. It was beautiful, crafted by what Lovino used to think were merfolks, using the aquamarine of their seas and smoothened soft stones from their shores, with golds, greens and looking like it could glide well in his hands as he swung and thrusted.

 It belonged to his grandfather…from his days as a soldier back when he was Lovino’s own age. He had proved to be ferocious, powerful, earning a well named place in the ears of all Rome. Smiths had given him this as a gift for his time, shortly before he had retired and settled more on the business. He didn’t like talking about those days much, while all Lovino wanted was to hear about them, hard to not imagine himself be that very proud soldier, earning those medals and recognitions that he doubted he would stop talking about to all.

 His arms were raised, his hands neared to the glass, to the key Augusto for some reason always left there, easily turning, opening and it was there for the air of the night, for Lovino’s touch.

 It wasn’t the first time…the handle was familiar to him, the weight nothing, the length Lovino knew well to guide without hitting a single object. He took the stance he had heard and seen many times, taken for himself as well. He imagined an enemy, going at him with precision, fierce, every swung surely death for whoever was unlucky to be there that instant. It was amazing how quiet he could while doing all this, Antonio wondered by the door, loving how the moonlight shined on him, making it seem like he was an angelic entity of dreams.

 “Incredible…” he found himself uttering, a break, a noticing. Lovino gasped, for a moment dropping the sword, luckily, he caught it with just as much grace, only letting the point fall at the carpet, grimacing and hoping it wouldn’t do anything to leave a noticeable mark. And from that serene glow of beauty, came deadly glares, frozen yet, fearing that any other movement could expose him more.

 “What are you doing here?” Lovino said with just as much edge.

 Antonio only moved forward, ignorant to his question, instead gazing to his final stand and then the enchanting sword that fitted well not only on his hands, but also on his entre persona.

 “Straighten up!” Came a surprising militant voice, power enough to get Lovino to do as commanded, and to Antonio, it came out elegantly placed without a single breath lost.

 Perfect, he kept repeating to himself as he rounded, making sure that it repeated in every part of his body…and it well did.

 “Forward!”

 And Lovino did so, sword well extended, posture immaculate, ready vengeance in his eyes to fight.

 “Very well…” Antonio faced him again, with cocky ease that Lovino didn’t fail to notice. He was standing nonchalant, unafraid of the sword pointed well at him. Lovino had a rather hard temptation to continue the extend and win if a slight drop of blood. He hated that look on his face and wanted it gone with even show of violence if he had to.

 “Now…” and from a hidden scabbard Lovino had never noticed until now, he raised his own sword, thin, small, rusted, not at all like the one of jewels and purest silver he himself held. Antonio was confident, spinning and letting it fly in the air before it faced him just as dangerously.

 “…we fight,” he curtsied and welcomed.

 “Are you serious?” With that ugly thing? Yet he dared hit it against his silver, a powerful strike that got Lovino completely lost on his standing and yet Antonio continued, Lovino turning rather messy as he focused on defending, many times practically falling, his knee hitting the ground more times than he should, eyes side glancing to make sure the furniture was still intact.

 “Are you insane?” He shouted, in his try to halt finding his stance again, the hold of his sword with Antonio’s kept, doing well to not grant any more movements. Antonio was impressed at how Lovino could well force him in his place, while the other’s worried expression was more on the surroundings, looking over to the halls for any that could come.

 “Nonno can wake up!” He growled.

 “So what?”

 “He can’t-he can’t…” he couldn’t tell him either.

 “He can’t know your using his priced possessed military days sword?” Antonio dared smirk.

 “Oh god! Just stop!” And there he was with deadly slashes, Antonio now taking the defense, but how he loved this fury, this fire, knowing, powerful and- oh wait! That was almost his head gone.

 “You are amazing!”

 “Shut up!” He only reigned more, Antonio’s stances and back leans the sole thing keeping him from landing on the ground. It was becoming straining, he stood again, grinding down Lovino’s sword with his own, the spark and force getting him to level back up so their swords could properly clash in battle, high, downward.

 Yes, Lovino was skillful, admirable, promising for so much more…but like many he had weaknesses, clear ones that showed that he was indeed still learning. Antonio took advantage of it, using that breath, an instant new force on his strength, a powerful slash that had the sword flying from Lovino’s grasp. He himself felt to the ground to catch it, saving the room from the loud clang, heavily breathing, defeated, kneeling…yet with so much sun in his hazel eyes that Antonio though it a defeat unlike any he had seen.

 “May I suggest breathing exercises to help keep them more controlled in battle, as well as trying new handle hand positions to make it easier at whatever change and outcome.” His smile was as an unchanging, with no trace of battle or exhaustion, while Lovino was sweating and finding it hard to even stand again.

 Antonio offered a hand to help him up, and Lovino took it without complain, balancing well, yet needing rest, his hold on the sword trembling, but he would not switch to anything when he looked to Antonio, bearing obvious questions and…impression at how a mere cleric could best him in a sword fight. It was a wondered gaze that had Antonio fueling, smiling on and thinking himself surely an object of dreams for Lovino.

 “It’s getting pretty late,” he put his own sword back in its hidden scabbard, “how about we both head to bed. We can make another match some other time.” He turned with a wave, his usual skip and direction…while Lovino was still debating with himself if this had all happened.

< previous chapter

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

keep calm and let HR handle it [VI/VI]

Rey managed to go a full year without ever directly interacting with her new CEO, but now it seems like he’s dropping by her office every single week.

(Because what else is a love-struck fool to do when he falls for his head of HR other than find reasons to visit her department?)

OR: five times Ben gets summoned down to HR, and one time Rey gets called into the CEO’s office, based on this prompt from @optimisticsprinkles​​​: “Rey as the director of HR at [office] and Kylo/Ben starts finding reasons to be sent down to HR”.

At long last, we get to see Ben's office. (Oh, and also these two get their shit together and get together.)

Chapter 5 Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter and Ko-fi?

To: rey_niima@organafoundation.com From: ben_solo@organafoundation.com Subject: Company picnic

Hi Rey,

I’ve got several updates from the board on our annual picnic idea. Could you come by my office first thing tomorrow morning to discuss?

Best regards, Ben Solo, Chief Executive Officer, The Organa Foundation.

 To: ben_solo@organafoundation.com From: rey_niima@organafoundation.com Subject: Re: Company picnic

Hey Ben,

Sure, I’ll see you in the morning. Fingers crossed for good news!

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

 Exactly a week after Ben Solo’s birthday, he finds himself critically considering a bouquet on his desk. It’d been an impulse purchase on his way to his meeting with Rey, which had also come about due to his impulsive decision to contact her after a week of radio silence on his end, which had, of course, been caused by his very, very impulsive mistake of calling her sweetheart.

It’s a pretty thing, if you ask him, an explosion of white and yellow blooms that remind him of Rey and the light she’s brought into his life. He’d picked it out with exactly that sentiment in mind, but now that he’s supposed to give it to her in about five minutes, Ben suddenly regrets his questionable decision-making.

Flowers have meanings, don’t they? What the hell had he been thinking, buying her a bouquet based on aesthetics? What if sunflowers mean something bad, something cruel? What if that’s the first thing Rey notices when she walks into his office and it dooms them before they’ve even begun?

He can’t bear the thought of going back to a life without her. He’s spent all week realizing exactly how much he can’t bear it, and now it might just happen anyway because he’s an idiot who’s never bought anyone flowers before and didn’t think before acting and fuck, what is he even going to say to her when he presents her with these possibly rude flowers?

To be safe, Ben pulls his phone out of his pocket and frantically keys in a Google search riddled with typos. But before he can dive into the results for sumflwr meabinh, a single knock rings across his office.

And when he turns around, there she is.

“You kept Leia’s chairs,” is the first thing Rey says to him in a week, giving him a bright smile as she settles into one of said chairs, a pair of emerald velvet tufted wingback chairs his mother had salvaged from the burning wreckage of her childhood home in Alderaan.

Ben had expected her to take them when she retired, had insisted that she do so even, but Leia had simply smiled at him with a faraway look in her eyes as she patted the tall back of one chair, reminiscing about the many days he’d spent curled up in these very chairs as a toddler, a tiny little thing floating in an emerald sea.

He’d stopped protesting after that.

Rey blinks at him expectantly, and he realizes that that’s it, that’s all she has to say for now, she’s not going to confront or lecture or push him about the fact that he’s avoided her for a whole week. It shouldn’t surprise him, really, since that’s one of his favorite things about her: how she always knows when to push him and when to give him space, when to prod and when to be patient.

“I, um, yeah, I did–”

“Oh, what’s this?” she coos with obvious delight as she spots the bouquet on his desk, reaching out to trace the sunflower’s petals with a light touch.

Right.

This is it, then.

Showtime.

Now or never.

For Rey.

Ben takes a deep breath, and makes the unexpected choice to pick up the flowers and settle into the matching chair next to Rey’s rather than his own on the other end of his desk.

Rey watches him with careful yet smiling eyes, and he catches the little puff of laughter that escapes her when he awkwardly thrusts the bouquet into her hands. “They’re for you.”

“They’re beautiful, Ben,” she says, shifting the arrangement to cradle it in one arm. “So is this a congratulations, our picnic idea has been greenlit gift or…?”

The way she lets the question hang in the air, the way she smiles knowingly and expectantly at him, the way one finger is gently, reverently running along each carefully-chosen bloom…

She knows. Of course she knows, his beautiful, perfect, bright Rey; of course she would have pieced it all together long before him, human disaster that he is.

And she’s here. She knows, and she’s here, and she’s smiling, and she’s waiting–

Rey’s done more than enough of that for a lifetime, Ben knows. He won’t, can’t keep her waiting for even one second longer.

“It’s… it’s a these reminded me of you gift, because they’re so bright and sunny and Rey,” he falters on her name as he loses his train of thought, only to find renewed strength in the way she slips her free hand into his and encourages him to go on with a wordless nod. “Rey, I know that’s not always you, I don’t need that to be you all the time, I want you to just be you around me, but… but even at your lowest point, even in your darkest moments… you’re still perfect to me. You’re still the sun to me. You – fuck, this is so corny but you make me want to be corny, you make me feel like maybe I’m capable of that, maybe I can just be the guy who’s corny about this amazing woman who lights up his life, who makes him feel seen and heard and cared for for the first time in years. You make me feel… you make me feel like maybe I do deserve good things in my life, Rey. And you are, without a doubt, the best thing that could ever happen to me, that has ever happened to me.”

He has no idea what he’s just said, no way of knowing if he even makes sense anymore, but if the way Rey is smiling at him while her eyes shine in a telling way is anything to go by–

“I know this is… this is so not HR-sanctioned,” Ben adds, attempting to end on a light note as if that’ll make up for the rest of his desperate, rambling, half-coherent plea. “But I was hoping that maybe…”

He trails off at the sight of Rey moving to place the bouquet on his desk, and holds his breath.

This is either about to go very, very well, or very, very wrong.

She could be getting ready to stand up, walk away, and leave this place – leave him – for good. Or…

Or she could simply be freeing up her hands so that she can reach out for him instead, so that she can rest one hand on his beating heart and curl the other around his neck to pull his lips down to hers.

Ben doesn’t actually realize she’s gone with option B until their lips touch.

It’s like a burst of static, but painless.

It’s like everything he’s ever dreamed of, but better.

It’s like coming home, but to a home you’d long ago given up hope on ever finding.

It’s perfect, in other words, and he doesn’t know why that surprises him given that Rey is involved. She kisses him soft and sweet, winds both arms around his neck to draw him as close as possible and smiles into their kiss until he’s smiling too.

And Ben can’t even complain when she finally pulls away, because then she’s whispering against his lips–

“Have lunch with me today?”

Like an idiot, he ruins the moment by incredulously blurting out the first thing that comes to his dazed mind. “Here?”

Rey just laughs and kisses him again, shakes her head with a smile as she cards a hand through his hair. “Let’s go somewhere, just the two of us.”

It’s hard to think straight with her looking at him like… like he imagines he must be looking at her right now, like he hung the stars and the moon, like this could be the start of the rest of their lives. But somehow, mercifully, his brain gets it together just long enough to realize, with no small amount of hope– “Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date,” Rey says, making all his dreams come true.

Ben is the one to kiss her this time, cradling her face in his hands like the precious gift it is while he tries to tell her with a kiss all the things he can’t say just yet, all the things he knows he’ll tell her soon enough anyway because this is Rey, Rey who makes him feel safe, Rey who makes him feel like a person again, Rey who’s only known him for a few months but already knows him better than anyone else.

Suddenly overcome by a tidal wave of joy, Ben pulls back to give her a smile so wide it hurts. “Is HR okay with this?” he asks teasingly, feeling lighter than he has in a long, long time.

Rey laughs and rolls her eyes at him and tugs him back down into another kiss. “HR,” she murmurs against his lips, “is very, very okay with this.”

. . .

(The rest of HR, as it turns out, is maybe not so okay with their boss going missing for the entire morning, but they quickly get over that when they find out she’s been hard at work practicing employee engagement with the CEO.)

. . .

Sunflowers, in case anyone was wondering, apparently mean adoration, loyalty, and longevity. I'd say Ben got it right.

We made it to the finish line, friends! After a whole year of trying to get this written, only to realize that it was never meant to be just a one-shot and then having to adapt it for a multi-chapter format, and then struggling to get back into the swing of things after a prolonged hiatus... I can't believe we made it. And really, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart: it's all thanks to you guys. You've been so sweet, and supportive, and encouraging, and kind beyond belief. Thank you all so much for every single lovely comment that kept me going. <3

To Beth, thank you for the prompt that started it all. This was an absolute joy to write, and I hope you've had as much fun reading it as I have writing it.

I'll be starting my holiday fic giveaway soon (the first fic goes up on the 3rd), so I'll see you guys around! Until then, thank you so much for reading and please feel free to like/reblog/comment on this fic one last time. It really does mean so much to me.

[gladio-to-meet-you]

Unbelievable Customers

So it's a bit delayed... but here we go kiddos!

It may be a bit rough, so I apologize, but this is the first thing I've been able to complete since I started this accidental mini hiatus.

But most of these have happened to me at my old job to some degree. A couple are a bit exaggerated for effect but they're actually very minor exaggerations. People working in the food/customer service industry get treated horribly by customers and it's ridiculous to me. Being polite to someone is gonna get you much further than yelling at them and making unreasonable demands.

~~

Ignis

You were no stranger to weirdos and creeps coming into your restaurant to eat, it wasn't like there was a policy to ban them or anything. They usually never came more than once or twice. Except for one guy, he kept coming back every weekend and it was hard for you to let the younger female employees to deal with him. It was like he had a radar for when Ignis would come in to see you because he would conveniently show up after the Prince's Advisor had left.

But there was one guy that didn't seem to catch onto the fact that Ignis was dating you. Even with you always doting on him when you had a free moment. Not even the looks you two shared apparently clued him in on the existing relationship. He had taken to following you at a distance around the restaurant's dining area, asking what were pretty normal and innocent questions. You got annoyed but could brush it aside and keep your smile on your face. It was as you were gathering up a bussing tub full of dirty dishes that the guy threw out an...odd complement. He told you that he liked your shoes as you walked towards the back and all you could do was blink in confusion. In the back, you looked down at your shoes and ended up shrugging it off.

Ignis had heard and shot you an amused look when you passed him by minutes later. You rolled your eyes playfully and set about cleaning up the dining room. Everything went smoothly until you got to the table in the far corner and you found what looked to be a piece of trash left behind. After taking a closer look at it, you realized it was a folded up note so you unfolded it to read it. 'Dtf?' was written sloppily followed by a phone number. You stared at it, broom clutched in your other hand, trying to puzzle out what it meant when Ignis came up behind you. "What're you reading, love?" He asked, peering over your shoulder. You let him read the note and looked at him in confusion when he plucked the scrap out of your hands. "What rubbish, don't worry about this," he said without hesitation, leaving you so he could tear it up and throw it away. It wasn't until you were at home that he explained it and you squawked in outrage.

Prompto

Prompto had come in after the lunch rush was over with, so he leaned against the counter, flirting with you as you stocked the cups and wiped the front counters down, enjoying the smile that was lighting up your face. He had even stolen a kiss after making sure there were no customers in the restaurant. "What do you want do when you're off??" He asked excitedly, practically vibrating with his enthusiasm about getting to spend the afternoon together. You guys hadn't had much free time recently and he was planning to take full advantage of it, as long as you weren't too tired!

You had just opened your mouth to answer when you heard the phone ring in the office. You held up a finger, let go of your rag, and dashed off to the office in the back to answer it. He could hear you greeting the caller, thanking them for calling and asking what you could do for them. Then there was silence. The silence stretched on for a while longer before he could hear you speaking again, but it wasn't loud enough for him to catch anything. When you fell silent again, you came back up front, phone jammed in between your cheek and shoulder as you went back to cleaning. "Ma'am, ma'am - if you - ma'am - excuse - IF you'd let me speak, I could answer you." You finally cut her off loudly, scrubbing forcefully at a sticky spot on the counter before moving on to start wiping down the food trays. "As I said a few moments ago, we can remake the food for you or we can give you a refund. BUT as you said, you won't step foot back in here again, so WHAT is it you want me to do to fix this? Because you've tied my hands behind my back."

The tray you were wiping got set down, along with the rag, and you disappeared into the back again. You let out some "uh-huh"s and "mm-hm"s as you went, leading him to believe that you were trying to work the caller's temper down while trying to remember whatever it was that they were demanding. He drummed his fingers against the countertop as he waited and he beamed at you when you finally reappeared, sighing heavily. "Did you really ask them what they wanted you to do?!" He exploded joyfully, laughing. Your face flushed as you shrugged. "I didn't know what else to do. She was unwilling to cooperate!" You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands as you slumped over the counter. As he reached out to ruffle your hair, he knew you needed a way to blow off some steam after you were done for the day and went about plotting the best way to do so.

Noctis

Noctis didn't often venture into your work, even more so alone, because of his status as the Prince. But he had taken the chance to come by later in the evening, close to closing time so he could accompany you home. He sprawled out in the chairs in front of the counter for people waiting on to-go orders and pulled his phone out to occupy himself while you finished up. He didn't want to get in the way of you or your employees and had found, through experience, that that was one of the best locations to wait.

The door opened about 30 minutes before closing, as you were doing the nightly counts for the front part of the store. You quickly wrote down the number for the salads left and set your clipboard down, smiling brightly at the lady that had just come in. "What can I get for you?" You asked her as you walked down to the register, ready to take an order from her. "Do you have anything you can give me for free?" She asked a bit unkindly as she eyeballed the food containers sitting under the heat as your employee that was in charge of making the food started cleaning up their work station and putting unnecessary things up and the dishes in the back. When you opened your mouth to speak, she started speaking over you loudly and rudely, garnering Noctis's attention.

She gave you some sob story about her being in a new state with her niece in the car and that they were out of money, but they were hungry. She kept her gaze on the containers and started leaning over the counter to get into your personal space. You took a step back and cleared your throat before speaking, explaining the policy your restaurant was under from the owner to not give out any leftovers if there were some. It was as Noctis sat up that she reached out and snagged the front of your shirt to drag you closer to her. "You won't feed my niece?! You're a monster! You wouldn't make a good mother if you're this heartless!" She snarled at you. Noctis took that as his sign to intervene and forced her to leave. "She was in here earlier, I saw her leaving as I walked up, she had food. You did the right thing, babe. It's not like you could've given her food even if she wasn't lying, so don't feel bad." He assured you, reaching across the counter to take your hands in his.

Gladio

He had come into your place of work to grab a bite to eat while on his break. You had not only taken his order but insisted on making it so the line worker could take a quick breather since there wasn't a rush. You walked his food out to the booth he had settled in with a grin, telling him to enjoy before you were walking away with a wink. He stared after you until you disappeared from sight and then started eating the food he had ordered. Of course you had made it exactly how he liked it, he would've professed his love for you if he hadn't already been with you.

He was minding his own business as he finished up his sandwich until he could hear raised voices coming from the register. The phrase that had him snorting was the indignant demand of "let me speak to your manager!" He leaned out of the booth to watch, hoping he wouldn't have to toss the loser out.

You smiled brightly at him, gesturing to yourself. "I am the manager and as previously stated, unless you have the food and the receipt, we cannot do what you're requesting. If you'd like to order something now, I would gladly go make it for you so it's following our regulations!" His face practically turned purple with rage before he was storming out, leaving the supposedly messed up order on the counter. Only to come back, snatch it up, and stalk out muttering under his breath. You smiled at his retreating back and called out a bright "have a lovely day!". Gladio's loud laughter drew your attention as he doubled over, hands on his knees. "Kill 'em with kindness, huh?" He asked you when he straightened up. You just smirked slyly in response.

Nyx

Nyx knew that Sunday afternoons were the busiest time of the week for your restaurant, but he came in anyway. He waited patiently in line for a good twenty minutes before getting to the register, only to pout when he saw it was one of your employees taking the orders. As he ordered and paid, he inquired about you, and the bubbly cashier gestured to the windows into the back where you could be seen expertly handling the large lunch rush by yourself, running between stations and making sure the food in the two ovens came out without being burnt. You glanced up briefly, seeming to scout the line left before a flat, unimpressed look took over your face, leaving him wondering what was going on.

It surprised him to see you dash off to the back of the restaurant, past what could be seen, and come back seconds later with a scale. You set it up but kept working, not giving it a second glance, so he shrugged off his curiosity and went to take his seat to wait on his order. He stayed within sight of the larger window so he could watch you work, catching glimpses of your smiling face as you laughed at something one of your employees said through the window to you. You even caught his eye for a second and blew him a kiss, making him beam at you. He couldn't clearly see what you were doing and ended up focusing his attention on his food once he got it.

A commotion and an irate customer is what ended up grabbing his attention. Specifically, it was the slam of a bowl on the counter followed by "You've got that little bitch working back there and she made my food wrong! There wasn't enough and it was stone cold when I got it!" He watched your face take on a carefully crafted smile as you took off your gloves and tossed them in the trash, snagging something before coming around to the front. You set the scale down and motioned for the nervous employee to move away. "I assure you, sir, that you had exactly the right amount of pasta and sauce. I even waited to make it until the rest of your order, those baked items, were done and that your order got priority going out to keep it from getting cold. I've brought this scale up so I can weigh your food and show you just how much it weighs versus what we're supposed to portion out."

Perhaps it was because he knew you so well, but Nyx could see the determination to prove him wrong in the way you stood and the way you clenched your jaw as you smiled at him. You went on to explain exactly how many ounces of pasta was supposed to be in a bowl and how many ounces of sauce, taking the bowl from the counter and placing it on the scale that had been zeroed out based on an empty bowl's weight. What neither of you expected was for him to snatch the bowl back and throw the contents at you before he stormed out. Nyx felt his blood start to boil but was immediately stupefied as your employees rallied around you and let out a small cheer, congratulating you on having dealt with him. He was immediately concerned that this was a weekly occurence for you.

[hollandtomholland]

Movie Night - T.H.

---> Roommate!/Bestfriend!Tom x reader

A/N: Hey guys, it’s been a while! This is my first attempt at writing again after my hiatus and it’s based on a request sent in by @obsidiandolans. I hope I did it justice! Also requests are still open, so send me your ideas and I’ll write you a little something. Much love as always xo

Summary: Move night is the best night, and with Tom and Haz as roommates, it’s always a success. Tonight, though, things are a little different. Lingering feelings are bound to shake things up for you and Tom, no matter how hard you try to ignore them. 

Words: 3.5k

Whoever said three is a crowd has clearly never lived with Tom and Haz.

The three of you have been best friends for as long as you can remember, so when the time came to find somewhere to live, you didn’t even have to ask if you’d be getting a place together.  Two years later and your cosy little flat is the perfect home, nestled just outside of the vibrant city centre. Each piece of furniture tells a story; the battered old sofa the boys dragged back from a garage sale, the kitchen table stained with countless rings from Tom’s coffee cup, the stack of blankets that keep you warm during winter movie nights. You couldn’t ask for a better place to come home to – or better people, at that.

There is one thing, though, that could be a little better. A lot better, you think, as you glance at Tom from your place at the kitchen table. He’s sprawled out across the sofa watching TV, one arm behind his head and the other clutching a cushion to his chest. Even in his sweatpants with unbrushed hair, he looks like an angel.

Over the past year or so, your feelings for Tom have grown and changed into something that no longer resembles the normal feelings you should have for a friend. The sound of his voice in the morning makes your heartbeat race, one look in those warm brown eyes makes your breath catch in your throat and oh god, you’re in too deep. He’s kind, sensitive, so perfect it almost hurts. Every day you fall a little bit harder, and being so close to him all the time complicates the situation even more.

Of course, you’re a long way from straight up admitting your feelings. How would you even go about that? It would change the way you live irrevocably, and not just for you and Tom – it would affect Haz too. There’s just so much to consider, and you know you’re not ready to take that kind of risk.

You probably never will be.

And so, the path of least resistance is the one you choose: doing nothing. Life carries on as normal, with both Tom and Haz none the wiser as far as you’re aware. Besides, you’ve got more important things to worry about, like the work you should definitely be focusing on right now rather than staring at your best friend.

“Aw, damnit!” Haz curses, scowling into the fridge.

You glance over and raise an eyebrow at him. “What was that for?”

He sighs, waving an empty milk carton at you. “No milk. Because someone –“ he says, turning to direct his ire at the boy laid out on the sofa, “Forgot it was their turn to buy some!”

Ah, the never-ending milk debate. Tom looks up with a sheepish grin on his face, hand running through his unruly curls. “Sorry, mate, totally forgot. I’ve had my head buried in this new script all day and it completely slipped my mind”.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just have to suffer through milkless tea till tomorrow” Haz replies theatrically, throwing the back of his hand against his forehead.

You close the lid of your laptop and stand up from the table, glad for the distraction from work. “I was gonna run out and grab some popcorn for movie night anyway, I can get the milk at the same time”

Movie nights are the best nights, in your opinion. Cuddled up in blankets, a bowl of fresh popcorn between the three of you, and a good movie? It’s your idea of perfection. Recently, though, you’ve started relegating yourself to the armchair rather than getting up close and personal with a certain someone. The three of you have never shied away from snuggling up together, but with your feelings being what they are, it’s no longer doable for you. Being pulled into Tom’s warm chest, his arm slung over your shoulders with your legs crossed over his… yeah, that’s not a good idea. Why torture yourself any more than you have to, right?

“Great idea!” Tom says, quickly pushing himself to his feet. “Lemme grab my coat and I’ll join you”

“Oh, don’t worry about it” you cut in hurriedly, “You’ve got work to be doing”.

Alone time with Tom is, unsurprisingly, something else you’re keen to avoid. The city is oddly romantic when it’s late, and even a short moonlit stroll to the shops would be a little much for you. How have you let it get this bad, you wonder. It’s hardly fair to Tom, pushing him away like this, but you tell yourself it’s for the best.

“Nah, I could do with a break and some fresh air” he persists, smiling warmly at you. One look from him could make you do anything, but luckily your sense of self-preservation takes over.

“Seriously, Tom, I’ll be quicker on my own” you tell him, fixing him with a determined gaze. His eyes search your face for a moment, intense and melting as they briefly lock onto yours. You swallow hard.

“Hmm, suit yourself” he says finally, eyes dropping to the ground as he wanders over to the kitchen.

“And make sure to grab a couple of pints at least, I’ll betcha anything Mr. ‘I totally forgot’ will forget again” Haz adds as you slip on your coat, eliciting a groan of protest from Tom. You nod over your shoulder as you head out of the apartment, the door closing with a click behind you.

Tom watches the door for a moment, rubbing at his cheek with thumb. He’s interrupted by a sharp cough, whipping round to scowl at the offender.

“You’re seriously testing my patience” Haz says, nudging Tom in the ribs as he walks past.

“What d’ya mean?”

“I’ve told you a million times, just tell her you love her and get it over with – for my sake, if not yours”.

There’s a moment of silence whilst Tom figures out how to respond. Harrison catches his hesitation and rolls his eyes, gesturing for his friend to join him on the sofa. “Don’t give me all that ‘it’s not so simple’ crap, cause it really is”.  

Tom sighs and flops down into the cushions, pulling his knees up to his chest. “But we’ve known her for years, Haz, she’s our best mate. I can’t fuck that up by making things… weird”

“Weird? Please, we passed weird a long time ago when you started getting flustered if she so much as smiles at you” Haz replies, grimacing. “You’re being so obvious it’s insane”.

“I just don’t know what to do, you know? She’s been so distant lately, too” Tom frowns at Harrison, who smiles wryly at his friend’s confusion.

“Distant? You think?” he chuckles.

“I don’t… she’s just… wait, what are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything, mate. All I know is that being in the middle of all of this is getting old.” Haz sighs, throwing his arms behind his head. “And it’s about time you did something about it”.

Twenty minutes later you arrive back at the flat, armed with three pints of milk and enough popcorn to feed a village. “I went for sweet and salted, since you guys seem to change your preference every time” you call as you kick your shoes off, before wandering into the kitchen. “And three pints of milk just to be on the safe side”.

Back in his usual position on the sofa, Tom smiles warmly up at you. “I owe you one!” he says, swinging his feet to the ground and walking over to join you.

“Don’t worry about it. Where’s Haz? Movie night is a-go!” you reply, opening a bag of popcorn with a dramatic flourish. Tom laughs, reaching across you to grab a bowl from the cupboard

“In bed. He’s got an early morning tomorrow, wanted to catch up on some sleep”.

Haz isn’t joining you for movie night? Oh, this isn’t good. Two hours or so alone in the dark with Tom is the last thing you need right now.

“What? But movie night is a tradition, he can’t just miss one!” you protest, folding your arms across your chest. “Maybe we should postpone till tomorrow then”.

Tom takes the popcorn from you and empties it into the bowl. “He’s cool with us going ahead with it, don’t worry” he says, before nodding to the sofa. “Come on, let’s get started”.

You follow hesitantly, aware that further protests will only make you seem more suspicious. The next problem that crosses your mind is a matter of seating. With Haz gone, you no longer have your usual ‘you guys take up all the space!’ excuse for not joining Tom on the sofa. You watch as he picks a cosy blanket from the top of the stack, throwing it around his shoulders like a cape. “If you’d like to take a seat, madame,” he grins, “The presentation will begin shortly!”

With that, he throws himself back into the sofa cushions, patting the empty space beside him. There really is no way you can refuse, and so you obligingly take your place. “And what presentation will that be exactly?” you ask, trying to push the heightened awareness of his closeness from your mind. By way of an answer, he picks up the remote to switch the TV on. The screen flickers to life, revealing a very familiar title screen.

“Infinity War? Come on, you must’ve seen this a hundred times!” you exclaim. Though he’s not the type to get a kick from watching himself onscreen, Tom has always had a soft spot for Infinity War. He had so much fun making it, and you’re certain that watching it as often as the three of you have done is simply an excuse for him to re-live the great memories he has of being on set.

Tom grins, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “What can I say? It’s a favourite. And don’t pretend you don’t love it cause I know you do” he teases, before pulling the blanket from his shoulders and laying it gently over the both of you. “Ready?”

No, you think.

“Go for it!” you say, and the familiar Marvel logo fills the screen. Laying the remote down on the coffee table, Tom settles back into the cushions and shuffles in until his side is pressed against yours. He rests his arm casually across your shoulders, letting out a gentle sigh of contentment.

This isn’t going to be easy.

At least someone can relax, you think. As the film unfolds, though, a part of you has to admit that you’ve missed this. Complicated feelings aside, you’ve always valued the level of closeness you have with the boys. Platonic intimacy is greatly underrated, and let’s be honest, everyone needs a little human touch every now and again. The fact that it happens to be coming from the boy you’re in love is just an added bonus – he’s just so warm, and familiar, and comforting…

Yeah, definitely not easy.

Still, if you focus on the film and let your mind quieten down for a while, it’s almost like things are back to normal. Just two friends, sharing popcorn and blanket, enjoying a great movie together. Simple. You can do this.

And for most of the movie, you manage perfectly fine – and then the final sequence begins. Why do you always forget how devastating this movie is? It hits you right in the chest, just like it did the very first time you watched it. As the faces you know and love turn to dust onscreen, that little lump starts to form in your throat and your eyes begins to fill with hot tears. It’s no use controlling your emotions, you’ve tried and failed a hundred times before.

When the worst part begins – you know the part – those tears start to slip down your cheeks.

“I don’t feel so good”

Of course this part makes you cry. You know it’s not real, and you know Tom’s safe right beside you, but god does it hurt seeing that lovely face crumble into nothing in front of you. Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you turn your face away from him in a bid to conceal your emotions.

It’s a little late for that, though.

“Oh, love” he murmurs, his voice soft as he notices your tears. The arm around your shoulders pulls you into his chest, a hand stroking your hair. “It’s okay”.

Against your better judgement you let yourself relax into him, cheek pressed into the soft knit of his jumper. His familiar scent fills your senses, equal parts comforting and exhilarating. The gentle rise and fall of his chest is broken by a low chuckle, “Gets you every time, doesn’t it”. He’s the perfect antidote to the emotional wringer that Infinity War is putting you through, always so sweet and kind and caring and…

This is exactly what you should not be doing, you realise. You carefully extricate yourself from his embrace, letting the blanket slip from off your shoulders as you sit up. “Sorry about that” you mumble, focusing your gaze back on the screen. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him looking at you, brow furrowed slightly.

“Nothing for you to be sorry for” Tom replies, shuffling round to face you. The corners of his lips are curled into a sympathetic smile, as he reaches out a hand to gently brush a stray tear from your cheek. His touch is so light and fleeting you should barely be able to feel it, and yet it’s as if his fingertips leave burning imprints on your skin. “If anything, I’m flattered. Means I must’ve been doing something right, hmm?”

You nod, managing what you hope is a convincing smile as you settle back into the sofa and try to concentrate on the film’s closing moments.  Tom, however, still has his gaze firmly fixed on you. “Now you’ve got me all emotional, darling. I hate seeing you cry, especially when I’m the one who caused it” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m fine, Tom, honestly. Think I’m just tired” you tell him, bunching up the edge of the blanket in your hand. “Probably best I get an early night, actually”.

Quit before you give too much away, you think, pushing the blanket off your lap.

“Oh. Well okay, I’ll, um…I’ll…” Tom begins, his voice trailing off as he watches you.

You flash him a smile, and begin to stand up. “Enjoy the rest of the film, I’ll see you in the morning”.  

“Actually, darling, hang on a minute”.

There’s a change to his voice, a hint of something deeper colouring his words as he sits up straight. “Can you just sit back down for a second? Please?”

He looks up at you, his expression unreadable as he gestures to the space beside him. No matter how much you want to remove yourself from the situation, you can’t say no, but as a compromise to yourself you choose to sit in the armchair instead. A bit of distance is a wise idea, especially since you can’t take your mind off how good it felt to be close to him again.

His shoulders drop slightly as he watches you sit, his gaze falling to the floor for a second before returning to meet yours with renewed determination. “Why do you keeping doing that?” he asks, his forehead creased as his eyes burn into yours.

“Doing what?”

“Running away from me. Like you want to be as far away from me as possible”.

His words are thick with real emotion, a desperate, pleading rawness that burrows its way into your chest and clutches at your heart. You don’t know what to say, so taken aback by the sudden shift in atmosphere. It’s impossible to look at him in the moment, your eyes cast downward as you pick at the embroidery on a cushion.

He knows you well enough to realise you’re not going to reply. A humourless laugh escapes his lips, a hand coming up to rub his brow as he shakes his head. “And it sucks, you know? You being so far, right when I want you even closer”.

Your breath catches in your throat.

What’s happening?

Across the room, Tom stiffens in his seat. He knows that with one simple statement, he’s crossed a line that there’s no going back from – so he pushes forwards. “I’m just gonna say this now, cause I don’t know that there will ever be a right time, so… I can’t be ‘just friends’ with you anymore, Y/N. I can’t”.

He lets the words hand in the air for a second, pausing to gage your reaction.

You can barely allow yourself to breathe, lest the tiniest sound or movement fracture the moment you almost can’t believe is happening. Slowly, you lift your gaze to meet Tom’s. His eyes are dark and intense, cheeks flushing a heated pink as he holds your gaze. Still you say nothing, but the steady eye contact is enough to steel him on.

“I think I’ve known it for a while. Haz certainly knows it, and I don’t know, maybe you know it as well. But it’s true. I just…” he continues, swallowing hard. All of his bravado, his easy charisma, his defenses – it all drops away. There’s a vulnerability about him as he sits across from you, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

“I love you”.

And then, almost as if he’s admitting it to himself for the first time, “I’m in love with you”.

There it is.

Whatever happens, he’s said it. No going back now, no matter how much he fears he’s ruined things forever. “So now you know. And I’m not… I’m not expecting to you say anything, cause I know it’s a lot to just drop on you” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “So I’m gonna head to bed and give you some space, and when it’s right for you maybe we can –“

“Tom, wait”.

You push yourself out of the armchair, fighting the fog of emotion and adrenaline to get your words out straight. “Now is right for me”.

Tom pauses, choosing neither to sit nor move any closer. He’s frozen, held in limbo, and you know that your next words are the key to setting him free. It’s a lot of responsibility, but luckily this is a moment you’ve been rehearsing over and over in your mind. You know exactly what to say.

“Everything you’ve said, about not being ‘just friends’ anymore? I get it. I get it cause I’ve been thinking the same thing”

You let your gaze roam over his face, his perfect face, and you recognise a glimmer of hope in those beautiful eyes. “Tom, that’s the reason why I’ve been running away all the time. Every time we got close it was too much for me, too hard to act normal. It was just easier to stay away rather than risk giving myself up”.

Even though he’s already made it clear how he feels, the nerves still claw at your throat as you let slip the most crucial words. “I love you too, Tom”.

In seconds, he’s across the room and right in front of you. That glimmer of hope has burst into pure light, his eyes full of joy and love as he gazes down at you. His arms wrap around your back, pulling you into his chest for the second time tonight – now, though, you don’t want to pull away. This feels right, even more so when he tilts his head and closes the gap between your lips. It’s a gentle brush at first, the two of you savouring the moment before he catches your bottom lip between his and deepens the kiss. Your hands tangle in his hair, and one of his comes up to cup your jaw and pull you even closer.

You can feel him smile into the kiss, before he pulls back ever so slightly to rest his forehead against yours. Neither of you say anything, basking in the moment’s glow as you gaze into each other’s eyes.

A clatter from the kitchen interrupts your post-kiss haze, and you turn to see Haz frozen with a glass in his hands. “Don’t mind me” he says, slowly backing away until he’s just the other side of the door frame. “As you were”.

Tom lets out a low chuckle, his hands gripping your hips as he nods at his friend. “Goodnight, mate”.

Haz disappears into his room, raising his glass to you in a mock salute before closing the door.

“How do you think he feels about being a third wheel?” you ask Tom, resting your hands against the firmness of his chest.

“Ah, I think he’s okay with it. Doesn’t really have a choice, does he?” he replies, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now, where were we?”