#so you know what that means: frantic stress relief sketching

[mr-snailman]

saw this scene today and I couldn’t not draw it they’re so hnnnghhhh

[bettertomorrows-ao3]

Are You My Mother?

Ellie is frantic. Dina is amused. JJ has some questions.

JJ stays still in Ellie’s arms and his teeny voice is muffled when he says, “Max said you’re not my real mom so we’re not a real family and that you only fake love me.”

Tags: Post-Game, Family Fluff Rating: Teen for language

EllieDina Week // Day 4 // FAMILY

---

It’s almost sundown when Ellie gets a visitor at work.

Her office is a medium-sized shack located near the stables of the main gate, a perfect place to house all the paperwork she needs in order to facilitate her new role as the patrol manager. Ellie had originally argued with Maria that the chore didn’t even exist, that it seemed like a feeble arrangement to give her a task somewhat similar to what she was used to just so she could still feel useful around town.

Maria admitted to some truth to Ellie’s point, but she also insisted that she would love for Ellie to start learning to ropes of leading the town. There was a buried emphasis in her request that suggested Maria only trusted Ellie to be the one to succeed her role in the future. That Ellie was already deeply embedded in the tangled mess of a family the Miller brothers left them with—and implication was what led Ellie to accept the job on the spot.

Managing patrol rotations is not the laid-back kind of job Ellie thought it would be.

It’s far more stressful than what Maria initially described it would be, but it’s a task that keeps her on her toes on a daily basis. It was hard to believe it at first, but rescheduling patrol rotations sometimes felt like hugging an exploding bloater. Not to mention how balancing patrollers with the right partners oftentimes resembled the act of gathering sheep into a barn. One wrong move, and a stray could lead the pack in the wrong direction.

Jackson’s townsfolk always knew she would have the job in the future, anyway. There was a tacit understanding that regardless of the complications of their familial relations, Maria’s niece would one day take over the duty of leading Jackson. It was never a question of whether it would ever happen, but more of when Ellie would feel comfortable to take on these responsibilities.

It came as a surprise to those who personally knew her—that Ellie would start making her way up before she was even in her thirties. Most of them thought they would have to wrench a 100-year-old Ellie away from patrolling duties, so to have her willingly take a job inside Jackson’s walls was a bit unnerving.

The desk job isn’t as exciting, but it’s definitely enough work to keep her busy throughout the week. Her favourite part of the job was toward the end of the day. When her last task was to wait for the afternoon patrols to come back home, and she spent the time quietly drafting ways to adjust routes for possible expansions to the town. Nothing felt better than to wrap up a workday with a glint of hope for a better future for her son.

Ellie is knee deep in concentration, head down studying a map and ready to sketch out a new patrol route when a knock on the door breaks her focus. It’s Andres, Dina’s new apprentice at the electric shop, a gangly young man whose family recently moved to Jackson. His presence immediately makes Ellie panic. They’ve only met three times since Dina hired him, and their interactions have been cordial at best. So, what else could warrant his appearance at her office at the end of the day if it weren’t for something urgent?

“Hey, uh… Ellie. A-are you busy?” he croaks out, Ellie can tell he’s nervous, but what for she’s not sure yet.

“Andres, right?” she asks hoping to calm his nerves even though she knows exactly who he is, “what’s up?”

“D-dina sent me t-to tell you to please… go to her house as soon as pos-possible once you’re finished with work,” Andres stutters out, making Ellie all the more concerned.

Ellie stands up from her desk and promptly grabs her coat from the chair, “did something happen? Is she hurt? Is JJ okay?”

She tries to calm herself enough to hear a response from him. Whatever it was must have not been too terrible, because if something dire had indeed happened to her family, there is no way Maria would have sent this semi-stranger to send the news.

“Oh! I don’t—um…” the young man stutters and brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, “she didn’t say. I’m just a messenger.”

With her jacket half worn on her back, Ellie looks down to the scattered papers on the desk and then to the clock on the wall. She only had 30 minutes left before the last patrol shift returned and reported back to her. Ellie was not one to ever leave her post early, but she was unfortunately not immune to whatever nervous energy Andres passed on to her.

The whole situation was terrifyingly curious, and she had to get to her family to find out what was happening. Ellie scribbles a note on a torn piece of paper, neatly folds it, and hands it to noticeably anxious Andres.

“Since you’re a messenger and all… can you quickly send this to Maria for me, please?”

**

Ellie tries not to sprint to Dina’s house. She doesn’t want to alarm anybody in town, so she ends up speed walking instead. In hindsight, sprinting would have probably looked way less ridiculous than the quick shimmy her hips do when she makes herself walk fast.

The thought comes too late. Dina’s house is already in view when she decides to run the rest of the way.

Ellie pauses on the porch to catch her breath. She knocks on the door twice before she curses to herself. Why is she knocking when she has a key to the door? Ellie digs in her pockets for the familiar shape of the metal when the door swings wide open.

“Did you forget your key again?”

Ellie looks up and releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Dina is leaning on the door frame with a smirk on her face. She looks perfect as ever and all Ellie can’t stop herself from hugging her right away. Relief floods her senses when she feels Dina reciprocate, her arms wrapping tightly around Ellie’s waist.

“Are you fine? Like, you’re not hurt?” Ellie whispers into her ear.

“Yes? Is this a trick question? Why?” Dina is puzzled by Ellie’s panic-stricken face and leads them into the house.

“Andres said I had to come home, and he was all nervous and twitchy, so I freaked out and kind of ran here,” Ellie admits before adding, “wait, what about JJ? Is he safe too?”

Dina eyes Ellie as if gauging to see if she was being pranked. When she realizes that Ellie was serious, she laughs and gives Ellie a quick peck on the lips.

“JJ’s upstairs doing homework, but babe, you do know Andres has a speech impediment, right? Like, it’s a medical condition, it doesn’t mean he’s actually nervous,” Dina chuckles when Ellie finally realizes that there was actually nothing to worry about.

“A speech impediment? You mean to say I got nervous for nothing?” Ellie takes a step back to shrug her jacket off her shoulders.

“Mhm,” Dina agrees, and takes Ellie’s jacket to hang on the coat rack by the door.

“So, what was so urgent you sent you lackey out to fetch me?” Ellie tilts her head to the side, still so apparently confused by everything.

“Well… your son—” Dina starts but Ellie interrupts her.

“Oh no. What did he do?”

Dina points up to the stairs, “your son picked a fight at school today.”

Ellie’s eyes bulge out in amazement, “Potato picked a fight? But… he’s only five years old!”

“That’s what I thought!” Dina shrugs, “but then I remembered who his parents are and then I realized that the apple really didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Holy fuck, you didn’t not just say that,” Ellie laughs.

“I literally just sounded like my mother,” Dina groans.

“Seriously, though,” Ellie asks, treading carefully but not without a smirk on her lips, “why did he get in a fight in the first place? Because questionable parents aside, he’s practically an angel!”

Dina sighs and leans forward letting Ellie hold her once again, “he said he doesn’t want to talk about it. Only that he wants to ask you something important.”

Ellie glances up toward the stairs wondering what their son could possibly want to ask her. She wonders what kind of demon would have likely possessed their sweet little spud to attack another student at school. The worst part is not even knowing how to explain to their son about not resorting to violence when the world they lived in required such actions to survive.

Despite the severity of the situation, Ellie couldn’t help but to joke, “if he wants to learn how to punch better, he’s asking for the wrong mom.”

The comment earns Ellie a light jab to the chest from Dina.

“Oof. Way to prove my point, babe.” Ellie shakes her head and grabs Dina’s hand to lead them upstairs to JJ’s room.

They share a look understanding that whatever JJ wanted to talk to Ellie about, they all had to do it as a family.

**

Ellie enters JJ’s room first. They find him slumped and sitting cross-legged on his big boy bed. Ollie is on his lap, and they seemed to have interrupted a silent conversation between JJ and his beloved toy. Ellie slowly makes her way to sit on the edge of the bed leaving Dina behind to lean on the doorframe. Their family was complete, but they still wished to respect JJ’s request to only talk to Ellie.

“Hey, bud. I heard what happened at school today. Wanna tell me about it?”

JJ sinks further into his bed and fiddles with Ollie in his hands. He hesitantly looks up and whispers, “do you love me?”

The question baffles Ellie and feels her heart breaking at sound of doubt in her son’s voice. She is more than a little concerned that her son somehow thinks there is a universe in which she could possibly stop loving him. She immediately scoots closer to him and wraps him tightly in her arms.

“Of course, I do, Spud. What makes you think I don’t?” Ellie eyes Dina by the door making a speechless plea for some comfort on her part. Dina only nods her head, assuring her that she is doing all right.

JJ stays still in Ellie’s arms and his teeny voice is muffled when he says, “Max said you’re not my real mom so we’re not a real family and that you only fake love me.”

“What? Who the fuck is Max?” Ellie growls making JJ flinch under her grasp.

Ellie has a sudden urge to hunt down this Max to teach a lesson about not meddling in other people’s business. Dina loudly clears her throat as if to remind Ellie that she is veering off track. Ellie has to remind herself that children can be unconsciously callous and that whoever this kid was probably didn’t mean any harm, and most likely doesn’t know any better.

“Are you angry with me?” JJ asks her and slithers out of her arms.

Ellie is reluctant to let him go and only does when Dina approaches them to sit next to her.

“Mom is not angry with you, Tater,” Dina speaks up, “she has her thinking face on.”

JJ pokes Ellie on the cheek as testing to see if his mom would notice. Ellie fails to hide the smile that emerges on her face. She kisses JJ on the head and comes up with a way to explain the dynamics of their family to a five-year-old.

“Do you remember the book I read to you the other night about the lost bird asking the dog if she’s his mother?” he nods and she continues, “well, our family is kind of like that. You have momma, and you have me. And just because we don’t look alike, it doesn’t mean that I’m any less your mom than momma is to you. Do you understand?”

The truth is that the allusion to the old story isn’t quite fitting to their situation, but Ellie hopes that it is basic enough for their little boy to understand the way their family works.

“You’re the dog and me and momma are birds, and you love us anyway?” he asks so innocently she and Dina can’t help but to laugh.

“I love you always no matter what other people say, Spud,” Ellie reassures him, and she is relieved to see him accepting her explanation, “we’re our own little family and I will always be your mom, even when you don’t see me.”

“What about momma? Do you love momma too?”

Dina tilts her head at Ellie, mimicking the hopeful look in their son’s eyes.

“Your momma owns my heart, Tater.”

Ellie feels Dina’s hand grasp one of hers, their fingers intertwined. JJ sees the contact, jumps on them, and nuzzles his little head in between theirs. The moment was so tender they almost forgot what had started the discussion in the first place.

Until JJ spoke again, “if we’re always a family, how come you don’t live with us?”

And damn, their son really did have some hard-hitting questions that night.

[artificialqueens]

How Wonderful Life Is (While You're in the World) (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Rosé has the perfect plan for proposing to Denali. If only she could get the plan to work.

A/N: So this idea came into my head and wouldn’t leave until I wrote it! I wish I had the same motivation for my homework honestly. It’s basically pure fluff and a little chaos. Thank you so much to Writ for beta-ing and helping my pull the final scene together. Please leave some feedback if you’d like, I really appreciate it!

Title from Your Song by Elton John.

Rosé has had the ring for two weeks now. The plan, however, she’s had even longer. It’s carefully organized, each step written on the checklist (which Lagoona’s been teasing her for) in Rosé’s prim-and-proper handwriting (which Jan’s been teasing her for since they were kids). But she needs this proposal to be perfect, everything Denali deserves and more. Denali deserves the world, but even with her promotion at the fashion magazine, that’s out of Rosé’s price range, so this has to be special.

She sits with an eye on the door, waiting for Denali to come in and fling her bag on the couch. Then Rosé will spontaneously-but-not-really-spontaneously suggest they go eat at the Thai place where they had their first date. After dinner, she’ll develop a sudden desperate craving for ice cream–hey, she might as well put those old acting classes to good use–and they’ll go on a walk to get said ice cream. But not any walk—a path Rosé created herself, one that takes them to the same ice cream place where chocolate and pistachio sweetened their first kiss, past the art museum where they officially became girlfriends in front of a Monet, and finally into the park where they first met years ago, where Rosé will get down on one knee and pull out the ring burning a hole in her pocket.

A perfect full circle moment, one she knows Denali will love.

Her leg bounces as she waits. She knows Denali will say yes, but this is still a big step, even bigger than moving in together. But that had turned out so well, letting her be around Denali all the time, learning new parts of her girlfriend that she could tuck inside herself. Like how Denali still has a battered Nike shoebox of her old Pokémon cards. How her early rising for skating still lingers, inviting warm sunrise cuddles. How she’s so brave and fearless, yet still shrieks and throws random objects across the room when she sees a spider. It’s a step that let them create a home together, with fluffy blankets on the couch and cheesy photo-booth pictures on the fridge and both their favorite chips in the cupboard. A home in each other, hugs and kisses and support all the time. A step that became amazing, and this one will be even more so.

Until the door flies open and in comes a slightly limping Denali with a scowl on her face.

“Well, today fucking sucked.”

Rosé jumps off the couch, easing Denali’s skating bag off her shoulder. “What happened, baby?”

“First one of my design clients decided they wanted to change their costume right after we settled on the original design. Then this minivan mom screamed at me outside the rink for like ten minutes because I said her kid needed more practice before moving to the next age group. And then I was so distracted from everything I fell on my knee when I was practicing.”

“I’m sorry, Nali.” Rosé winces, one hand steady on Denali’s waist, the other rubbing her back, soothing Denali with gentle touches, reminders that she’s here. “Is it bad?”

“Nah, it’s just a bruise. I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be fine.” Denali flops down on the couch, leaning back and sighing. “Can we order pizza?”

Rosé’s heart sinks as she realizes the proposal is off for the night. Denali’s stressed and exhausted, clearly not in the mood for having dinner out or going for a walk. Rosé doesn’t blame her, and she isn’t going to push things. Part of her is disappointed, her perfect plan in ruins, no chance of them going to bed giddily planning a wedding. But Denali needs comfort after a bad day, and that’s something Rosé will always love to give her.

“Of course,” Rosé says. “Anything else you need?”

Denali shakes her head. She’s tough, and after some food and sleep, she’ll be ready to take on the world. But that won’t stop Rosé from giving her anything she wants tonight, making sure she always has a soft place to land.

“I’ll order it and get you some ice. You just relax.”

It doesn’t have to be today, Rosé reminds herself as she settles next to Denali, careful not to bump her knee. She’ll just propose another night. Everything is fine. And when Denali falls asleep with her head in Rosé’s lap while Rosé gently strokes her hair, everything really is fine.

—

Rosé waits a few days before her second try, giving the universe time to let out all its bad, proposal-killing vibes. The ring is secure in her nightstand drawer, nestled between her vanilla lotion and melatonin gummies, and Denali is secure in her arms when they wake up. Tonight’s the night. Rosé can feel it.

Until the rain starts.

And not just any rain, but heavy, pouring rain, pounding on the roof and destroying umbrellas. The kind that soaks you through in seconds and leaves you shivering the whole day. No one would want to spend five seconds in that rain, let alone go for a romantic walk in it.

But it’s only morning, and these heavy storms never last. By tonight, the sun will shine and the world will glisten with leftover rainwater. A perfect setting for a proposal.

But when the rain is still screaming down when Rosé leaves work, rattling the windows as she and Denali curl up under a blanket with hot chocolate, she has to give up on this one.

—

Third time’s the charm, everyone says that, so Rosé’s optimistic when Attempt Three rolls around. Hope follows her all day at work, as she arranges photos of models and meets with Michelle to discuss next month’s issue, and there’s a spring in her step when she leaves her desk and strolls to the elevator with Symone.

“I can’t wait to see your layout tomorrow!” Symone says, adjusting her purse and closing the door.

“You mean Friday.”

“Tomorrow is Friday.” Symone’s excitement becomes concern. “You feeling okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine,” Rosé stammers, batting away the hand Symone extends toward her forehead. “I just mixed my days up for a minute.”

Symone nods, and only when they’re both out of the building does Rosé allow herself to exhale, frantically checking the date on her phone and swearing when it confirms that today is, in fact, Thursday. She’s been so focused on this round of the proposal that she missed a day somewhere. Her layout is due at midnight, and even though it’s almost done, she puts so much care into each one there’s no way to do the proposal and the layout tonight without hurting the quality of one of them, and she can’t do that. It’s not fair to give Denali anything less than her full attention, and she can’t submit half-assed work weeks after her promotion either. The proposal will have to wait.

Again.

The hope turns to lead as she drags herself into the apartment, sprawling out at the kitchen table with her laptop, massaging her temples to ward off the looming headache. She doesn’t even hear Denali come in until she drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“Deadline?” Denali guesses.

Rosé sighs, leaning back to chase another kiss, which Denali gives her. “Yeah. I got my days mixed up and it’s due tonight. I’m gonna be here a while. I’m sorry.”

Denali nods in understanding, brushing Rosé’s hair off her face, calming the stress buzzing in her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make dinner and then I can keep you company. I have some costume sketches to work on.”

Rosé nods gratefully, heart swelling with love as she returns to her work. She faintly registers Denali moving around the kitchen, swaying and humming whatever her favorite song is this week, until she sets down two plates of grilled cheese.

They eat their sandwiches, and Denali replaces the plates with their floral coffee mugs–pink roses and blue forget-me-nots–a comfortable silence spreading between them as they work. They didn’t need to talk, didn’t need much of anything, but liked knowing the other was there anyway. There’s always been this connection between them, the way they were completely attuned to each other’s moods, knowing when to give space or comfort or talk things through.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Rosé says, stretching her back and jumping as it cracks. “You can go to bed.”

“I’m staying,” Denali says, stubborn as always. “Besides, I don’t sleep as good without you, which makes no sense because you’re always kicking me.”

Rosé sneaks glances as Denali works, sketching a blue skating costume. Denali’s been teaching skating lessons for years and started making outfits for clients last summer, and it’s really taken off lately. Rosé loves watching her sketch, the way her tongue curls over her lip, the way her dimples peek out, the way her dark eyes narrow in focus. She’s absolutely beautiful, hair in a messy bun, sweatshirt that Rosé is pretty sure was once hers sloping down to reveal the curve of her shoulder. The woman Rosé’s going to marry. Denali grins as she finishes, and finally catches Rosé staring at her.

“What?” Denali asks.

Ask her, Rosé thinks. Ask her right now. And she almost does, plan be damned. But she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s just blurting it out for the hell of it, like it’s thoughtless. “Nothing,” Rosé says quietly.

“I’m on to you, Rosie,” Denali says.

Rosé’s heart skips a beat. What if Denali found the ring, what if she knows–

“You were just so dazzled by my smile it made you speechless,” Denali says, flashing her dimples again.

Rosé grins, trying not to sigh in relief. “You’re right, baby.”

It’s 11:03 when Rosé sends her layout to Michelle, slumping back in her chair and letting her exhausted eyes slide shut.

“Come on, Rosie. Let’s go to bed.” Denali’s hands help her up, and Rosé leans into her. Denali stayed with her this whole time, refilling her coffee mug and rubbing her shoulders, showing her funny videos she was watching on her phone, letting out soft encouragements when she got frustrated. Rosé knows how lucky she is to have Denali, and she nuzzles against her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mumbles sleepily. “For stayin’ up with me.”

“Of course.” Denali presses a kiss to her cheek.

They collapse into bed, and Rosé falls asleep with her arms full of love.

—

Attempt Four doesn’t go wrong right away. In fact, everything is fine–no bad work days, no rain, no deadlines.

And then Jan calls.

“What do you mean your sitter cancelled?” Rosé demands into the phone.

“I mean my sitter cancelled. It’s not a difficult statement,” Jan says on the other end.

“And why does this involve me?” Rosé plays dumb, but she already knows where tonight is going, and it doesn’t include a ring.

Jan sighs. “Because Jackie has this work dinner tonight, and I want to be there for her, but we can’t leave the baby. Please, Rosie, pleeeease?”

“All right.”

“You’re a lifesaver!”

Rosé sighs, adding another tally to the failed proposal column.

She tries to make the most of the night, not wanting Denali to suspect anything’s wrong. She’ll know if something is off with Rosé, and Rosé doesn’t want Denali to get suspicious about what’s bothering her, or think she’s hiding something. Well, technically she is hiding something, but not in a bad way. So she happily takes baby Joey from Jan and rocks him slightly, smiling as he smiles. Denali leans over and tickles him, giggling as he giggles, and there’s something about her smile, about the overjoyed the-baby-likes-me gleam in her eyes, that makes her even more adorable.

“I bet I can make him laugh harder than you.” Denali sticks her tongue out to prove her point.

Rosé gives into her competitive side and twists half her mouth up and crosses her eyes, cheering when Joey shrieks with joy.

“All right, that’s enough. You keep making those faces and you’ll scar the kid for life,” Denali mumbles.

Joey sleeps most of the night, but they watch the whole Disney movie anyway, snuggled together, Rosé softly singing in Denali’s ear.

—

Over the next few weeks, Rosé tries, refusing to let the universe take her hope away. She tries again and again, each time thinking that this will finally be it, the day they finally become engaged. The ring glares at her every time she reaches for her melatonin, because as the failures pile up, so do her hours of tossing and turning. Attempt Five is crushed by the dump truck the city brings in to clean the park. Denali catches a cold from one of her skating students and Rosé makes soup and fusses over her on the night of Attempt Six, and when Rosé wakes up sneezing two days later, that’s the end of Attempt Seven. The ice cream shop posts on Instagram that they’re closed for the day due to electrical outages, and Attempt Eight melts away like ice cream in the sun. By this point, Rosé’s tempted to make a damn bingo card for the next thing to go wrong.

“I see I still don’t have a sister-in-law,” Jan says as she enters the apartment, Lagoona trailing behind her.

“Why do you want another sister? You have us.” Lagoona throws an arm around Rosé and flashes Jan a cheesy grin.

“That’s exactly why I want another one.”

Rosé sighs. “This is what I wanted to talk about, actually.”

Jan and Lagoona must sense her seriousness, because their bickering stops, faces attentive like every time Rosé has gone to them for help. They were there when she failed a math test, and when she realized she wanted to kiss girls the way other girls kissed boys, and when she was getting ready for her first date with Denali. They’re always armed with hugs and decent advice and (usually) decent fashion tips, and Rosé loves them for it.

“What’s going on?”

Rosé fidgets with her sleeve. “It’s just–every time I try to propose, something goes wrong. What if …” Rosé pushes on despite the crack in her voice, “what if it’s a sign I shouldn’t propose? That we shouldn’t get married?”

She’s been trying to stay hopeful. She and Denali have been together for four years, after all, and if a few mishaps delayed their proposal, well, they’d get there eventually, and laugh about everything later. But that was about four mishaps ago, and Rosé can’t shake the feeling tightening around her chest that they’ll never get to the laughing-about-it stage, that Denali will never wear the ring. A few mishaps are a coincidence, but how many coincidences can you have until they become something more, something you can’t ignore?

“Don’t even let yourself think that,” Jan says softly.

“Jan’s right, and I’ll probably never say that again, so stop analyzing and listen,” Lagoona says. “You’re trying too hard to make this perfect. Stuff just goes wrong sometimes. It only feels huge because you’re putting so much pressure on yourself.”

“And it doesn’t need to be perfect,” Jan adds. “I know you want to give her the best proposal ever, but Denali knows you love her. She wouldn’t want you to be this stressed. You could propose in a dumpster and she’d say yes.”

Lagoona nods. “Look, your plan is amazing, but maybe it’ll help if you lose the plan and just propose when it feels right. Then you don’t have to cancel it every time the smallest thing goes wrong.”

“But how will I know when it’s right?” Rosé asks. “I don’t want it to seem thoughtless, or disappointing.”

“Nothing you do would be thoughtless, and you’d never disappoint Denali, first of all.” Jan pulls her into a hug. “And honey, I think it already is right. That’s why you bought the ring.”

Rosé nods, every doubt immediately pushed away. Instead of clinging to the plan the way she would cling to her script and run lines over and over at theatre camp, she can let go of the plan, of waiting and waiting for every single factor to be ideal. She loves Denali, and any time to propose to her is the right time. Rosé knows it’s right, just like she knew moving in together was right, just like she knew asking Denali out in the first place was right. Denali has always felt right to Rosé, someone she can show herself and her heart to, and she’ll know when to do it.

—

Rosé has taken to carrying the ring around in her purse, just in case she’s pushing her luck keeping it hidden in the apartment, but also in case the moment hits her while she and Denali are out somewhere. She likes having it close, touching the black velvet box and assuring herself of the promise inside.

Even with her new plan of not having a plan, she still struggles to get the words out. There have been some close calls–a weekend morning half-asleep in bed together, sunlight making Denali’s face gold, or having coffee in a cozy cafe, Denali tilting her head back to laugh at something Rosé said. But she always stumbles over exactly what she wants to say, or hesitates just a second too long, and the moment passes, or Denali moves on to something else.

Tonight, she’s flipping pancakes while Denali tends to the eggs.

“Why do you love breakfast for dinner so much?” Rosé mumbles, dodging Denali as she throws salt and pepper on the eggs like they’ve personally offended her.

“Breakfast food tastes better at night. You’re having a certain food at a time you’re not supposed to have it, so it’s like all sexy and forbidden and shit, and it tastes better. Same rule applies to pizza for breakfast.” Denali shrugs, like it’s common knowledge.

“I’m sorry I asked.” Rosé adds chocolate chips to the pancakes, Denali’s favorite.

They dig in to eat, and Denali jokes that she should make a skating costume based on breakfast foods, with a waffle skirt and ruffles that look like bacon, and Rosé can’t stop laughing, torn somewhere between amusement and horror.

Denali is laughing too, arms swinging around as she pretends to model the garment, her eyes sparkling, and it hits Rosé all at once in that moment. God, I love her so much.

“Marry me,” Rosé says.

Denali stills at once. “What?”

“I–hang on.” Rosé sprints to her purse, digs out the ring, and lowers her knee to the kitchen floor. Her heart throbs in her chest, but a smile from Denali shows she has nothing to worry about. “Denali, I … I had this perfect plan of how to propose to you, but every time I tried, something went wrong and stopped me. But the plan doesn’t matter. You matter. You matter more than anything to me, and this might not be perfect, but it’s you, and you’re always perfect to me. Will you marry me?”

Denali’s eyes glisten with tears. “Of course I’ll marry you, Rosie. I love you so much.”

The ring fits perfectly when Rosé slides it on her finger, and Denali fits perfectly in Rosé’s arms when she pulls her in for a kiss.

“So you did that little speech on the fly, huh?” Denali asks when they pull apart and sit back down.

“I am an improv queen, you know. Got the theatre camp certificate to prove it.” Rosé laughs. “But yeah. Instead of writing what I wanted to say, or thinking too much, I just … said it. And it’s all true, because I love you.”

Denali smiles, reaching out to take Rosé’s hand, stroking her thumb across the back of it. She gets a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, how many times did you try to do this? I just want to know.”

“I think the official count is eight.” By the time Rosé finishes telling them all, they’re both crying tears of laughter and clutching at sore stomachs, splitting the bottle of champagne they opened.

Denali looks at her after she’s done, and Rosé knows she’s crying for real now.

“You’re not disappointed, are you? The plan was way better, I was gonna–”

“I don’t need to know what the plan was,” Denali says firmly, “because I love the proposal you did. You could never disappoint me, Rosie. Never.” She sniffles. “I’m crying because I just–I can’t believe you tried that hard to do this for me. You’re basically the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“I love you,” Rosé says simply, and even if she couldn’t do the perfect proposal, she’s glad Denali knows how much she loves her, how she would do anything for her.

“I love you too,” Denali says. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll get to do that proposal some day after all.”

But Rosé doesn’t care if she does or not. Because she and Denali are getting married.

—

One Month Later

Rosé has a new checklist (which Lagoona’s been teasing her for) in her prim-and-proper handwriting (which Jan’s been teasing her for since they were kids). It’s a notebook, really, stuffed with all the things they have to do for the wedding–check out venues and finalize the guest list and then look at menus and decor and about a hundred other things. But Denali commanded her to leave it home today, because they both need a break.

“Can we get lunch?” Denali asks.

“We didn’t even shop yet.”

“But I’m hungry,” Denali whines.

“Okay, okay.” Denali’s hanger can level a city block, and Rosé knows she needs to get some food in her. “How about that burger place?”

“Too far. We’re only a block from that Thai place, let’s just go there.”

They get to their table just before the lunch rush hits, and Rosé thinks of how she’d been so sweaty before their first date that she had to put on extra deodorant in the bathroom. She’s calm and peaceful now, Denali slurping noodles across from her, their feet brushing without any thought of whether a first date was too early for that.

“I think those noodles gave me heartburn.” Denali rubs her chest as they walk out.

“Maybe it was the fact that you ate a giant bowl of them–”

“Oh, hush, Rosie. Oooh, you know what my mom says cures heartburn? Ice cream!”

Rosé doesn’t think that’s medically accurate, but she’s not going to challenge her future mother-in-law; even if the woman is miles away, her hearing is excellent, and it’s just not worth the risk.

She follows Denali into the ice cream place, helping her sort through all the flavors for her massive cone with extra rainbow sprinkles (‘what kind of lesbian would I be if I didn’t get rainbow sprinkles, Rosie?’ Denali demands, and Rosé gets extra on her strawberry cone too).

“Okay, I officially ate too much.”

“Again, you literally had three scoops of ice cream and a waffle cone.”

“Don’t remind me.” Denali looks slightly green, and Rosé just hopes this day doesn’t involve vomit. “I just gotta–I gotta walk it off,” Denali says, trying to nod convincingly, easing her hands off her stomach.

“If you throw up, please don’t do it on my shoes.”

“Noted.”

As much as Rosé hates barf, she can’t stop keeping a close eye on Denali as they walk, one steady hand on her back in case she needs it. Denali’s taking measured, trying-not-to-throw-up breaths as they walk, Rosé so focused on her that she barely notices where they’re going.

Denali comes to a sudden stop, her breathing back to normal in an instant, and Rosé finally notices they’re in the park.

And then it hits her.

They had Thai food.

They had ice cream.

They went on a walk together.

And now they’re in the park.

“I think you have something to ask me.” Denali grins smugly, but Rosé’s brain is still lagging, trying to piece together how Denali executed the plan perfectly.

“How did you—I never even told you what the original plan was!” Rosé stammers.

Denali’s smile stretches to her ears. “No, but Jan and Lagoona were more than happy to tell me.”

“Those two and their big mouths.” Rosé shakes her head, but she can’t believe how they teamed up with Denali and went through all this so the proposal could happen the way she dreamt.

“Yep. They also said they were gonna hide in the trees and watch, and I think they were joking, but you never know.”

Rosé cackles. She wouldn’t put it past the two of them to abuse the internet and order those fancy camouflage hunting suits to hide in, and when her quick look at the trees reveals nothing, she wonders if they really did.

“You—you really did all this for me,” Rosé says in wonder. “Lunch and ice cream and pretending to be sick so I was distracted and wouldn’t figure it out.”

As much as she told herself things ended up okay, part of her still wanted to do it, express her love the best way she could. She’s always been one for big, meaningful gestures where she could let out the love bursting inside her. And now she gets to, because of Denali.

“You’re not the only actress in the family,” Denali teases. “I know how much the proposal meant to you, Rosie. I wanted you to be able to do it.” Denali slips her ring off and offers it to Rosé. “Go on, ask.”

Rosé takes the ring and carefully gets down on one knee. Her body is warm from the sun and from love, and the words she finally says are a combination of her planned speech from months ago, and everything bursting in her heart right now.

“Denali, the first time we met was right in this park, at the skating rink. I bumped into you, and when I saw you, I was so glad I’m a shitty skater.” She grins. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I love your passion, and your talent, and your kindness. I love you when you’re screaming over video games, and when you’re in your sad blanket burrito, and even when you drink too much coffee and get too hyper. And you love me too, even when I’m grumpy or I won’t stop singing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I promise that I will never, ever stop loving you, no matter what. Denali, will you marry me?”

“For the second time, yes, I will.”

She slides the ring on Denali’s finger for the second time, and as she pulls Denali in for a kiss, she knows that, plan or no plan, her life as Denali’s wife will be infinitely perfect.

[softjeon]

The perfect Illusion | Pt. 1

• Pairing: Geisha!Jimin x Namjoon | Side-Pairing: Geisha!Jungkook x Yoongi • Genre: Fluff / Angst  | Geisha!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 15k |  ↳ AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of abusive behavior

*** please note that this story doesn’t mean to represent accurate geisha tradition, it was solely inspired by the beautiful art form, giving it a modern twist in a fictional universe and therefore has been dramatized for entertainment purposes.

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳  He was the perfect illusion. The getaway for anyone who didn’t want to face reality. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something vulnerable and hopeful as if he was dying for someone to see through him, to care for him enough to look behind the mask and draw out the real Jimin. And Namjoon couldn’t wait to do exactly that.

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It was still early, with the sun shining over the mountain’s peak that one could see in the far distance behind the monstrous high buildings. Jimin always thought they were a bit to bland for his liking. And still he wondered how it must feel like to stand up on the twentieth floor and look down on the sea of people below from time to time. Turning the corner, a few children were playing in the streets and women sitting and chatting on their doorsteps. There was silence when he passed and he greeted them with a smile and a simple nod. A young woman blushed. A man, leaning against the banister of his home was inhaling the smoke of his cigarette deeply, when his gaze flickered onto his. 

Just for one second. 

Jimin didn’t need more. With a single look he had the man stop in his tracks, his eyes fixated on him when nothing else existed anymore. Almost as if he was hypnotized for a moment.

Turning his back onto them he could still hear the woman’s shouting, the way she was scolding her husband but Jimin was sure that wasn’t the last time he’d see that man. He smiled to himself and held his head high as he could see a part of the market a few alleys away next to the street where they sold the finest jewelry that he just loved to stroll around and look at. There was no time of day when this part of the city wasn’t crowded. Jimin took a quick short cut, one that lead through a pleasant tree-lined area where it was much calmer. He knew his way around the city and still he always felt like a stranger. Someone that didn’t really belong here. The ribbon around his waist indicating who he truly was. Luckily people treated him with respect, sometimes more out of fear than anything else and others just admired him from afar. Jimin smiled at a young girl who was staring at him, holding onto her mother’s hand tightly. He winked at her and she giggled as if they exchanged a small secret. 

Jimin passed another street, walking by a few high buildings to get to the other side of the market where they sold the finest fabrics. He had promised to get Jungkook a new satin to wear and as he was still a maiko, the younger wasn’t allowed to go out when he was still suppose to train. Jimin sighed and brushed through his hair, blinking up as the sun shone on his face. For a moment he stayed still, well aware that he should keep his skin protected and not get a painful sunburn but the feeling of breaking the rules - just a little - had always excited him. With a soft smile that played on his lips, Jimin walked ahead. He could hear voices coming from the market, people trying to negotiate the price and it had him excited. It was then that his gaze involuntarily wandered over to one of the men hurrying out of what seemed like an office building across the street, waving his hand frantically in the air to catch a taxi. For a second, Jimin stilled completely and even though the other seemed stressed, he still vibrated with an aura that had him fascinated. Tall, lean, the suit he wore fitting him perfectly. 

Namjoon was so tired that his eyes hurt and he could feel the fatigue in every part of his body. The meeting had lasted forever and if it hadn’t been so important he might have excused himself for a coffee break in between just to make sure that he stayed awake. Luckily though it had ended before he could fall off his chair from exhaustion - and it even ended on a good note. All their hard work had finally paid off and the approval copies had done what they should and gotten the investors approval. Now they would have enough buyers to sell their whole current collection which meant that they could start with their new one right away. Namjoon almost got dizzy when he thought about the amount of money that he had just secured for them - though honestly he didn’t do it for the money alone. It was nice being so rich that you knew that you would never have to worry about making ends meet ever again in your life - but without a passion, without something to do that you put your heart into it meant nothing. Luckily in Yoongi he had found someone who was just as determined and passionate as him about their profession: korean inlaid work. Their focused on home decoration but apart from that their range went from small little boxes to store your jewelry in to tables or whole wall-covering wardrobes, each of them decorated with the finest mother of pearl inlay and polished wood. He actually always wore a piece of their work with him in form of a business pen that he used when he had to sign something important - just as he had done right now. 

He breathed out in relief and imagined what he would do when he would finally arrive back home; run a bath, cook some delicious food, maybe ask Yoongi how he was doing at the atelier because the older was there most of the time, drawing, sketching, trying to work out the best patterns and pictures that told the owner of their work a story. He especially loved Yoongi’s butterfly designs that the other excelled in, something that you wouldn’t expect of him when you met Yoongi for the first time and he looked at you with narrowed eyes in his cautious, almost closed off way of greeting strangers. 

Namjoon got as close to the side of the road as he could to wave for a taxi and then hoped that he would get one soon as he kept his arm raised, feeling it getting heavy almost immediately. While he waited he let his gaze wander - and something hit him like a blow. There was a boy in front of him, strolling around the market as if he had all the time in the world. He was so breathtakingly beautiful that Namjoon couldn’t help but blatantly stare at him. Although his beauty wasn’t everything there was to him, he had a smile that looked so honest and genuinely happy that Namjoon could feel his own lips curl up on their own. He had a grace to him that spoke of years of training, maybe in dance or theater - and then Namjoon saw the belt. It was a dark burgundy colored piece of satin, bound in an intricate pattern of knots around his waist, telling those who knew what to look for what he was: a geisha. 

Namjoon swallowed hard. He had always held admiration for those who held onto tradition in such a way but he had never dared to visit a teahouse out of personal reasons before. He had been there many times with other business men or to celebrate a deal but he had always chosen the house that was most convenient in its placement, never because he wanted to see a special geisha. For that boy though he would willingly drive through the whole country just to see him dance or play an instrument or serve him tea. Maybe their newly closed business deal called for exactly that…

Their gazes suddenly met. 

Jimin’s heart jumped and his own eyes shined amber as they stared back at each other. Only a second. A smile played on Jimin’s lips. That was all it took - before he turned the corner quickly, ignoring the rapid beating of his heart. 

“Hey! Are you coming or?” The taxi driver yelled through the halfway rolled down window of his car, obviously confused on what the man was so fixated on when he couldn’t see anything himself that was worthy staring at, “People have to work ya know. If you don’t want a taxi don’t call for one! I got better things to do.” 

Jimin had easily mingled into the ocean of people that were strolling through the market, letting his gaze wander over the dozens of beautiful fabrics. “How can I help you?” The owner of the booth bowed his head and Jimin mimicked him, pointing at the yellow satin that almost seemed golden. Jungkook had always a thing for vibrant colors like these and Jimin thought with his own favorite blue robe, the younger would look absolutely mesmerizing next to him.

Before Namjoon could explain or apologize the taxi was gone and with him his chance to get home and fall into bed. Honestly he was almost glad because as tired as he had been before there was a spark of curiosity that kept his eyes open and his mind focused on one single sing: the elegant geisha boy that had bought some silk in a way that would have suited a documentary about noblemen in ancient times. He was just so naturally graceful that it was a joy to simply watch him. And Namjoon wanted to see more of him! As his ride was gone anyways he picked his bag back up and then hurried tried to walk across the market towards the boy who had left the part where clothes and accessories were sold and was talking to a merchant now who sold little colorful rice cakes. 

When he paid, taking the rice cakes from the salesman, Jimin noticed a man out of the corner of his eyes. He dared to turn his head, just a little to see who it was that had followed him. Jimin had thought it must been the husband maybe, the one he had passed earlier but to his surprise it was the young man again. He held his breath, casting down his eyes and bowing his head just slightly into the man’s direction - a barely there movement as if he was doing a respectful curtsy before he turned around again, using the group of people that just passed to vanish quickly again. Jimin didn’t dare to look back again, loving this sweet game he was playing too much already and hoping that the stranger was intrigued to follow after. 

Namjoon forgot to pretend to be busy himself so when the boy turned in his direction he was obviously caught staring and he blushed - honest to good blushed in the middle of the street - and then tried to turn around to hide his face but the geisha had already seen him. He nodded at him and Namjoon wished he was cooler or more collected because in that moment he couldn't even remember what day it was.

Jimin loved the game they were playing. It made his trip even more exciting as he made his way through the market, well aware that the other was following him. Jimin wondered if he’d would try and talk to him, if he’d noticed that he was a geisha or not. He easily vanished and reappeared in midst the crowds, making sure the stranger could catch glimpses of him – enough to make him interested but not enough to make him catch up. A giggle escaped his lips as he made a sharp turn into the alley that sold jewelry and when he turned to look over his shoulder the man was gone. For a second Jimin was almost sad that he couldn’t see him anymore, but maybe the other had gotten tired of his games. He sighed and reached for one of the pearls when he felt a presence right behind him, the warmth of his body embracing Jimin and he had half a mind to just lean back into him. But instead, Jimin leaned his head to the side, just enough to feel his breath fan over his neck and look shyly over his shoulder. 

Namjoon was intrigued, especially when he noticed that the younger was playing hide and seek with him. He obviously enjoyed vanishing in front of Namjoons eyes and puzzle him long enough for him to think he lost him and get disappointed - just for the joy to flood him again whenever he caught a glimpse of him again. He hadn’t even seen his face properly and he already was totally hooked on him. Namjoon was baffled by how well the younger played him even though they hadn’t exchanged a single word before. Finally he seemed to get a chance of getting close to the geisha when he was distracted by a string of pearls, long enough for Namjoon to change directions and sneak up on him from another angle. He felt a little like a creep but if it meant that he would be able to see the flirtatious geisha’s face then he could deal with that feeling - or so he hoped. He was almost close enough to touch the younger when the boy stiffened, noticing his presence without even turning his back. He would be crazily attentive and Namjoon was kind of impressed. 

“If I didn’t know better that you’re a gentleman, I’d say you’ve been following me sir.” Jimin blinked up at him, regretting that he chose not to wear any makeup today. Nowadays there was no rule for them to wear their costumes outside, although the belt always indicated their belonging anyways. Jimin let his hand soothe over the soft pearls, reaching into his pocket to pay for them.

Namjoon didn’t know what he had expected the youngers voice to be but he could have never imagined a voice that sweet, like honey, warm and melting on his tongue. He played along easily, even though he had blushed so hard just shortly ago but it felt natural to do and he quote enjoyed it. 

“Following you? Oh I wouldn’t dare to follow a beauty like you around. Because one could get the wrong impression. And I’d never ruin your undoubtedly flawless reputation.”

Jimin smiled taking the string from the owner of the booth and turned his head to blink up and gaze into the eyes of the stranger. It was far longer than he intended to, but he couldn’t help but to be intrigued himself. It was obvious how well spoken the other was, how handsome and well-mannered, that he must indeed be a gentleman. “That’s good to know. I wish you a good day, sir.” Jimin casted down his eyes and with a fleeting brush of his arm against Namjoon’s, the geisha was gone again. 

Jimin took his lies and turned them around, waving goodbye quickly before vanishing right in front of his eyes just like before and as if he had planned to make the end of their conversation as dramatic as possible. Namjoon cursed under his breath, regretting that he hadn't asked the younger’s name or at least the name of his establishment: it would be a hell of a lot of work to find out where he worked at and if he had bad luck the teahouse owners wouldn’t disclose that kind of information for the boys safety. 

He was fucked.

…

“God fucking damn it!” Yoongi cursed loudly. His coffee spilled all over his sketches and the young man groaned in anger. “I shouldn’t have gone out of bed this morning,” He mumbled under his breath when the door to the studio opened and Namjoon walked in and although he seemed rather happy it didn’t lift Yoongi’s spirits. “If you don’t have good news for me, I’ll consider jumping out of this window and yes I know we’re on the first floor and I don’t care.” He raked through his hair in a desperate manner, before finally reaching for the tissues to try and keep the damage in check but it was too late already. He would have to do it all over again tomorrow.

“Maybe it was a sign that you should take some rest for once and stop overworking yourself. You will have enough work waiting for you the next few months. Because I just sold our entire collection!” He knew that Yoongi had some difficulties with sudden skinship or else he would have swept him off his feet in a hug from how happy he was. “Which means you’ve got a blank canvas now and can start an entirely new collection - or you could just say ‘fuck it’ and never work again because they were really generous with the money. Though please don’t - I need you in this business because if it wasn’t for your sketches our new design would probably be simple squares because I might share your fantasies but I totally can't bring them on paper.” He fished one of the half soaked papers out from the stack of the ruined sketches and held it up. It showed an intricate bird design with a twig of cherry blossoms in full bloom with a bumblebee filling a blank space and tumbling petals. Namjoon could already imagine how beautiful it would look as an inlay, the light pearly shimmer in stark contrast against the dark, polished wood. “It’s beautiful!” Then he coughed, remembering what he was trying to ask him. “Apropos beautiful…,” He was thinking about the geisha but he couldn’t just say that right away so his transition wouldn’t make sense to Yoongi and as he knew that his cheeks dusted again, “How about we properly celebrate it this time? No other investors or business people, just us?”

Yoongi cocked up an eyebrow in interest when he heard the words celebrating but his brows furrowed right after though when he realized the transition from beautiful to celebrating didn’t make much sense. “What do you have in mind? If you’re just thinking about going to the opera again I might decline this time. Didn’t know your way of fun was listening to someone scream for four hours straight.” Yoongi chuckled at the fond memory, because every time he let Namjoon decide what they should do to celebrate it only ended in them going on a educational trip instead. And he could just sleep in his bed instead of the uncomfortable chairs in the opera house. When he threw the soaked papers into the bin, Yoongi let himself fall back onto the couch that stood in the middle of their studio. “Oh and no trips to the historical museum or any kind of historical place...please, chose something fun instead. Something that we both enjoy, how about that?”

Namjoon got a little nervous because lying to Yoongi - or bending the truth a little - was never easy. He was bad at lying in general but Yoongi saw through people like an x-ray machine. “No, no, don’t worry, it’s none of that. I was actually thinking about... visiting a tea house if you want?” It was a rhetorical question because of course Yoongi would be up for it. He admired all kinds of arts and beauty and he was reckless enough to openly enjoy watching pretty boys while it was normally Namjoon who felt uncomfortable or conflicted about supporting an institution that so openly prioritized superficial qualities. They had actually talked about this before because when they were invited by their contract partners, which happened quite a lot, then of course Namjoon went together with Yoongi. Though in the evening they often ended up discussing because Yoongi had been enjoyed himself and those short lived pleasures while Namjoon was worried or bothered by the fact that outside of the tea house the boys and girls didn’t have any practical skills and if they didn’t get enough money with their mizuage then they were stuck working at the same tea house and if no one offered to marry them they would be left with nothing at the end of their retirement which was usually set around 50 years. Yoongi just told him he worried too much.

“A tea house? You want to go to a tea house?” Yoongi looked at his friend, eyeing him head to toe. “Did you smoke something?” He teased his friend with a laugh, “Hell yeah, we can go to a tea house. Actually there’s this new place I’d love to try. It’s further downtown. I think it’s owned by the same dude...but they have different shows there.” Yoongi nodded enthusiastically. He always enjoyed an artistic show and if it meant for him to sit back, relax and just simply watch beautiful people then he was all for it. “What are we waiting for then?” Jumping up from the couch, Yoongi grabbed his jacket and keys, “Let’s get suited up.”

“Uhm, o-okay.” Initially he had planned on calling a few tea houses and giving them the description of the boy he had seen to ask if he lived there but he figured that the boy must be from around here anyways because he had seemed familiar with one or two of the merchants as if he came there regularly. So why not try the house closest to them, maybe he got lucky and then he didn’t even have to behave suspiciously which meant Yoongi might never find out why exactly he suddenly wanted to go there in the first place. As he had just gotten there he didn’t need to change a lot, he just put away his suitcase and loosened his tie before following after Yoongi who seemed really excited at the prospect of them going to a teahouse alone without any tiring business talk involved.

Yoongi had been excited, not caring anymore why Namjoon had suddenly wanted to go into a teahouse, figuring that the other just wanted to do something good for him in return. Namjoon just was that kind of a friend and nothing would dim his excitement now. 

“I take a red wine, please,” Yoongi said with a smile towards the waitress and then leaned back. From where they sat they had a great overview on the stage and the music was already starting to play indicating the start of the show. Turning towards Namjoon, he noticed the others stiff posture and reached out for him. “Hey, relax. This is just one night off. Just enjoy the show, okay?”

It was a very modern take on a teahouse and it made Namjoon simultaneously feel relieved and more uncomfortable. Relieved because they boys were on stage instead of sitting together with them in a small room to serve tea and uncomfortable because the arrangement felt a little similar to a strip club; with lots of men sitting around waiting for someone beautiful to come on stage and dance for them while they consumed their alcohol and tea.

Yoongi didn’t care. His eyes shone the moment the geishas stepped on stage and showcased their art one by one. It always had fascinated him: the beauty, the artistry, the sensuality. It send shivers down his spine each time. He was so lost in the show and the stories the dancers told, that Yoongi completely forgot about the wine he had ordered and only remembered it when the light went on again. 

Namjoon appreciated how well prepared the dancers were, how graceful they moved and how easily they portrayed their story or played a character even though their routines looked challenging and demanding. There was one thing though that disappointed him immensely: None of them were the boy he had seen earlier today. 

With their heavy make up it took him awhile to figure out how their faces must look like under it but he was absolutely certain that the boy from the market hadn’t been on stage. 

He frowned.

Outside of the establishment, Yoongi put his arm around Namjoon (as much as he could and only while pulling him down as he was way shorter), “Are you okay?” He furrowed his brows and nudged Namjoon’s side, “You know you don’t have to do these kind of things for me, right? If you really don’t enjoy it we can easily just go out and eat next time.” Letting go off Namjoon, he waved his hand to call for a taxi, “With you paying of course.” 

Namjoon huffed, his mouth twitching back up. Even though the evening had been disappointing for him at least it had lightened Yoongi's mood. “Sure, in other words you forgot to buy food again and have an empty fridge so you’re trying to make me pay for you even though you could easily afford it to pay yourself - or just let stuff get delivered to you.” Their playful little banters were part of their routine and not to be taken seriously. 

It was what made them perfect together after all. They were as different as one could be, but together they were the greatest business team and Namjoon would have never asked for another partner. 

“Let’s get you home, shall we?” Yoongi chuckled, patting Namjoon’s shoulder as they sat down in the taxi, paying the driver by cash. They only parted at the front of their doors, their apartments on the same floor in the same building. Some would have thought it was crazy, but Namjoon thought it was what made them unique. He had shared his living space with Yoongi when they were barely making it and now when they had more than enough it was only natural for them to stay close in one way or another. Yoongi saluted him lazily, reminding him in between a yawn to not wake him tomorrow. “Dream of beautiful geisha boys dancing for you, Joonie.” 

Then he closed the door.

…

“I need you to sign here and here,” The man in the grey suit said, a smile on his face, waiting for one of them to pick up the pen. It had been a few weeks since they had been celebrating their last contract and Namjoon had been looking for the boy. 

He had failed ever since. 

He couldn’t find him at the market anymore, nor somewhere close. So, Namjoon tried to concentrate back onto work and not let a random stranger that he had met once and exchanged just a couple of words make him go crazy already. How could a simple glance from the geisha do that to him?

When Namjoon finally set his signature, he took the stack of papers, pushing one copy of them back to him and the other to his boss. “Great!” Mr. Ling, one of their new offerors, said and reached out his hand to shake both of theirs, “I can’t wait to sell your delicate designs in Japan. It is a great idea of yours to expand, Mr. Kim.” He nodded over to Yoongi and then added, “I will set up the export contract as soon as possible. Why don’t we celebrate our agreement? As I am still here for a few more days I’d like for you to be my guests tonight then we can settle the investment and anything else further tonight?”

”Oh, it would be our pleasure!” Namjoon’s response came fluidly without a second of hesitation while internally everything he thought was ‘not another teahouse please’. He had seen enough of them from the inside now and it bothered him that he was so caught up in the memory of that boy when he didn’t even knew his name. He should have asked for it. Or where he worked. It would have made the search so much easier. 

Though was that really what he wanted, visiting him and acting like all the other men who thought that they might become someone special to the boys there? His perfect smile almost wavered and he was glad when Yoongi chimed in to make small talk with the older man.

“Expect my driver to pick you up at eight then,” Mr. Ling bowed his head in a respectful manner, “Wear something high-end. It’s an exclusive gentlemen club I want to introduce you to. You can only get in with an invitation tonight.” He was bragging, obviously proud that he was one of the gentleman who were allowed to bring in new people and the more the two of them were thankful that he thought they would be suitable. When Mr. Ling was gone, Yoongi turned around to his partner with a big smile, “Are we really invited to a gentlemen's club tonight? You and me?” He laughed wholeheartedly, grabbing his bag with the designs and lead the way outside, “I need a new suit asap!”

“If there’ll be lightly clad women dancing to bad music then I’ll have to excuse myself…,” Namjoon grumbled knowing damn well that he wouldn’t because a few rules still applied even though they were technically rich men themselves now: 1) If you wanted to do business you needed to be nice to customers 2) The more money a customer had the more they thought they knew everything 3) Offending said customers was really dangerous because in their state of constant egocentric attitude they could make it their personal mission to destroy you because no one who didn’t curried favours with them deserved to have a blooming business. 

“You’ll see it’s going to be alright,” Yoongi answered, “I don’t think he means a strip club when he talks about exclusive invitations only. It sounds like the perfect opportunity for us gentlemen to be.” He chuckled, “And if not, I will find a good and plausible way to get us out of there after a few drinks. You really need to relax more, Joon. You’ve been kind of off lately.” He closed the trunk of his car after he threw in his bag and looked at his friend with furrowed brows, “Maybe you need a massage or something or just a good ‘fuck’. When was the last time you got laid?”

Namjoon choked on air when Yoongi suddenly went from casually conventional to very very private. “That’s none of your business?” He answered, when he could finally breathe again and with a last attempt to keep his dignity he added, “Unless you are offering to help with that?” He made a show of looking Yoongi up and down though in reality there wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen yet. They knew each other long enough that they had seen each other in all kind of situations, with only shorts and a thin shirt in the middle of the night when Yoongi couldn’t sleep again, wet as a dog in see through, sticky clothes after they had been surprised by a summer rain downpour or pale and skinny in nothing but a hospital gown when Yoongi’s had that accident where he had injured his shoulder a few years ago...

Yoongi cringed visibly, scrunching up his nose as he walked past his friend. “If you’re already considering me then it’s really time for you to let loose again.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t get the image out of his head and sat down in the driver’s seat. “Now get your cute ass into the car! We’ve got to get ourselves ready for tonight.” He nodded, holding his nose high up while he got out of the parking lot, “A real gentleman needs his time and we sure don’t want to disappoint Mr. Ling, right?”

Namjoon had nothing to say against that, knowing the importance of an invite like that. It was important for them to make new connections, as well as strengthening the once they had. Business always meant politics and Yoongi liked to remind him that he was the better talker from the both of them. Of course, the other had a way with customers too, but Yoongi couldn’t always keep his mouth shut when it came down to unfair treatment. Namjoon chuckled to himself, when memories flooded his mind and he had to calm Yoongi after meetings as they began to expand their business, who called the offerers all kind of names. Luckily those times were over and they had made their stand in the business world. People respected them and their work now. 

That evening, he chose one of his dark blue suits, the one that had a wide belt built in around his waist. He always thought it brought too much attention to his length, but Yoongi assured him that he looked good in it, that it was the perfect mixture between traditional and modern suit. Yoongi himself had chosen a black suit with metallic pattern that's shimmered whenever light fell onto it and Namjoon had half a mind to touch it. “The driver’s going to be here any minute,” Yoongi said and pushed Namjoon’s wallet into his hands, checking his watch once more. “Don’t make this face as if someone’s forcing you to look at naked women,” Yoongi nudged Namjoon’s side and reminded him to keep his posture, “Just two drinks and then I’ll smuggle you out of there if needed.” He smiled reassuringly at his friend, who only hummed in response - the thought of a strip club now branded into his mind. 

He let his friend pull him down and towards the car already waiting for them and only then Namjoon put on his usual ‘business’ smile that he had trained over years. He greeted they new business partner with a handshake and a respectful bow, placing himself right next to Yoongi as he felt the safest right next to him and let his partner do the talk this time. As it was usually him, Namjoon actually could relax a little more, leaning back into the comfortable leather of the car, only now noticing the luxurious interior. “You will love this club!” Mr. Ling addressed Namjoon and the other jerked out of his thoughts that had drifted off while watching the street lamps pass by, “It’s invitation only tonight and I reserved us and the others a tea room for after the show.”

On the outside Namjoon nodded with a smile, but on the inside he wished himself back into his bed. Another tea house? He fairly had enough of them. Especially now that his mind was clear enough again and he wasn’t thinking about that one boy. 

The geisha that had clouded his mind with just one gaze. Namjoon was still confused on how it had been possible. That it had made him throw over his own morals for a moment, made him follow and even look for him in hope to just see the geisha once more. What did he even try to gain? A nudge from Yoongi let Namjoon snap back into reality and he stared at him wide-eyed. 

“We’re here,” Yoongi whispered, “Where are you with your mind? Try and concentrate just a bit okay? I really don’t want to lose the contract right away okay? We already signed...but he hasn’t, yet, remember? And we need to settle on a sum of money. If this doesn't work out he won’t send us the papers, I’m sure. So try and be a normal member of this society for once before drifting off again okay? You can do that when you’re home again.” He patted Namjoon’s thigh lovingly, before getting out of the car with Namjoon right behind him. 

Gazing up, they stood in front of what seemed like a modern theater and only the tinted windows and golden writing above let them know that this was a high class club or establishment. Namjoon took a look over his shoulder, trying to take in the environment, the clubs and establishments around. He had never been here before - most likely because he wasn’t one for snobby clubs and if he’d rather went out for food and a good meal instead of a club to dance for. A pull at his arm, reminded him to walk ahead and Namjoon smiled awkwardly at the bodyguards at the front that checked them warily as they entered staying close to their Mr. Ling who was still talking about his wife and his favorite stew. Namjoon was only half-heartedly listening, completely in awe about the teahouse. 

But this wasn’t just a teahouse. 

This was a theater and with its golden mahogany and red interior it only accentuated it’s exclusiveness. He stumbled after the group of people to a booth where they sat down and Namjoon let his hand soothe over the fabric loving the feel against the palm of his hand. “Did I promise too much?” Mr. Ling laughed and his eyes got a mischievous glint when a young boy neared, bowing his head respectfully as he offered them some tea and alcoholic beverages. They all ordered, leaving only Namjoon who quickly stammered something about a wine. “Soft, please.” He added quickly before the boy was gone. “It’s my favorite tea house by far. Not even the ones back home can uphold with this one.” Mr. Ling explained and pointed towards the stage that was still covered with a curtain, only some traditional music playing from somewhere was setting the mood. “It’s the perfect mixture of tradition and modern arts. And Mr. Jung has only the most talented boys. All of them go through great training,” He leaned back, taking a cigar from one of his accompanies and offered them one but both declined, “Nowadays it’s hard to find a teahouse like this, believe me. You will enjoy this and if you see the boys up close later in the room I reserved, you’ll thank me. They call the boy’s ‘hummingbirds’,” Mr. Ling’s voice toned down, when the light was fading out and there was a expecting hum going through the crowds that mostly consisted of men tonight, “Sweet, delicate, with beautiful voices that will enchant you.” 

Namjoon furrowed his brows, biting his lip as he turned his head around to the stage. He was sure that he would have ended up like Mr. Ling one day if he had continued his search for his geisha. He seemed almost manic with the way he talked about the young boys. He was probably thinking that he was precious to the boys as well, that he was their special guest but in the end - they were only leaving their money with them. Namjoon’s eyes focused on the stage and when he took a look around there was the same gaze on everyone’s face and if he didn’t knew better he would say that all of them were hypnotized. 

The music faded out, just to start anew with a loud drum that made Namjoon jerk a little. A young man sat on the stage, his face painted, his eyes gazing up at the ceiling as he started to move slowly. His hands reached out for the air and he pulled back, when the music began to fastened. Yoongi was just as hypnotized as everyone else, his hand reaching for Namjoon’s arm who hissed at the sudden pain but the other couldn’t help it. “He’s beautiful,” He stammered, watching the boy twirl until more dancers joined him on stage, dancing absolutely beautifully to the rhythmic music. “They all wear the same make up, Yoongi.” Namjoon mumbled back at him, “They look the same.”

“But they don’t dance the same way.” He whispered and locked his eyes onto the boy who had faded into the group dancing perfectly in sync with the other maikos to open up the show. Namjoon had figured that this was the more traditional part Mr. Ling had referred to, as he watched them move rhythmically in their colorful costumes. The stage had a T-shaped catwalk at the front and although Namjoon felt safe before, now that the dancers were walking off the main part and towards the end of it, he scooted back on his seat. He had seen teahouses before and he had seen performances - but the usual establishments had a main floor where the geishas were dancing, playing instruments or showing off other arts while the people were seated on the floor around him. This was different. This was spectacular, big and something he had never seen but in movies. The dance ended with rose petals falling from the ceiling and Namjoon curiously looked up to try and figure out the technical part of the show, his gaze wandering over to the light station, where someone sat with a headset, motioning somewhere when the spotlight fell onto the stage again. He was in complete awe at how much time and preparation must have went in to making a show like this come alive and almost completely missed the start of the second performance. 

After a while and in midst of the first break of the show, Namjoon had come to terms that he liked it - more than he wanted to admit. But in the end, he loved a good show just as much as everyone else. His mood didn’t stay bright for long, when he caught up onto the conversation next to him. “There’s a mizuage in a few months,” Mr. Ling’s words cut right through the relaxed mind of Namjoon. “You mean like in....selling off someone’s virginity?” Namjoon couldn’t help but ask, his own standpoint clear on his facial expression. “Yes, like that, Mr. Kim. But don’t worry. It’s not like a brothel here in general. You can buy the boys time, but not their sexual services. If you want that, I can give you some great tips for other houses.”

Yoongi had placed a calming hand on Namjoon’s thigh, but it still couldn’t help that a shudder ran through him. As much as he respected people that stayed true to traditions in a way, he hated it how people could make money off something like the concept of virginity. He had argued about it with Yoongi a lot of times and while the other was a bit more cool with it, Namjoon was disgusted at the thought of it. 

If it wasn’t for Yoongi and the thought of keeping the contract, he would have told the other off that selling someone’s virginity was just as much prostitution as anything else that meant selling your body against your will - or not. Now that he thought about it Namjoon wasn’t even sure if the dancers were here on their own free will and if they had choices. He opened his mouth, wanting to ask more about geishas, how someone like the owner could pay off all of this, coming to realize that he basically knew nothing but the performance and what geisha’s portrayed on the outside aspect of it when the light went out again and everyone’s conversations died down. 

Now, each time a dancer stepped on stage Namjoon tried to figure out if they were happy with what they were doing. But their expressions were either emotionless or just playing their part of the story perfectly and one couldn’t see through the masks. 

It was too easy for Namjoon to overthink this, he’d always had a habit to do so and it would only lead to headache - he was sure of that. Rubbing the side of his temples, Namjoon took another sip of his wine and just tried to calm himself. He would only go through with the show and maybe excuse himself then to go back home - that was his plan and he would stick to it. 

A gasp fell from the crowd and Namjoon blinked his eyes when the lights on stage began to flicker as if there was a lightning, followed by the drumming sound of thunder. The dancers that had shown a traditional dance before, were now staring ahead into the crowd and Namjoon had half a mind to turn to look over his shoulder to see what they were looking at, when they got into a formation of a flower and in midst of them all stood a young men, waving his fan delicately just below his eyes with which he was piercing through the crowd. The music began to shift into a modern tune and the dancer instantly reacted to it as if the music itself was controlling him. With a smile that played on his lips, they showed off a few formations, mixing modern dance with the instrumentals of traditional music and somehow it reminded Namjoon of their designs. Soft, delicate movements and still so full of control. That boy knew exactly what to do next, every expression and gesture was right on time and it had everyone in the audience mesmerized - until he jumped and a loud thunder broke through the stage, tearing a just as loud gasp from the audience, unsure whether it was staged or not. 

The stage light dimmed down, a single light on the boy that faded him into a blue color as if the moon itself was shining only for him. Every dancer was gone but him. Following the tune of a flute, he began to move his arms all the way up to his fingertips, his eyes glistening. The part of the stage where he stood had lowered itself a few inches, just enough for water to fill in the space. It was barely recognizable for the audience, everything working so smoothly that only the droplets of water falling from his fingertips gave away that he was in midst of water now. A smile appeared on his lips, as he pushed himself up, arching his back beautifully, reaching out into thin air and then he stopped. His linenshirt was sticking to his back, water dripping down. His chest was heaving heavily as he bared his neck to look up so slowly that one could make out every feature of his face. The light was shining directly onto his face as he turned towards the audience - and then it began to rain. It was like a movie scene, the boy was dancing, water splashing with each movement while the light was making the water sparkle like diamonds. No one could tear their gaze off of that boy, who was so effortlessly moving in sync with the music. 

Yoongi almost choked on his tea when he saw Namjoon’s star struck expression, of course everyone else looked similarly entranced because the boy was just stunning and amazingly talented - but coming from Namjoon who had reduced the well-liked and highly valued tradition of a maiko’s coming of age ceremony to prostitution in front of their business partner - to say Yoongi was surprised would have been an understatement. A smile stole its way onto his lips. Maybe they would be able to visit a few tea houses together from now on without Namjoon being a spoilsport.

The music stopped and for a moment there was silence. Only the sound of dripping audible coming from the young man’s shirt as his lips curved into a confident smile. Then all hell broke loose and the audience was cheering as the light turned off and the curtain fell again. Yoongi was clapping too, but his gaze was on his friend who had gotten up from his seat, giving a standing ovation and he wasn’t sure if Namjoon was even realizing what he was doing. 

“I told you,” Mr. Ling said with a knowing grin, “They are true diamonds. Hoseok only trains the best boys.” Yoongi chuckled and patted Namjoon’s thigh lovingly, to make the other jerk out of his trance. 

“So much for me having to find an excuse for you to leave. If I didn’t knew better I’d say you’d enjoyed yourself a lot just now.” He gave his colleague a teasing grin and then got up from his seat quickly to follow Mr. Ling who was talking about the delicious tea they would get. This was something new even for Yoongi. He’s had business discussions in tea rooms before but definitely none of this class because renting a simple tea room alone was really expensive so he didn’t want to think about what Mr. Lings reservation for them cost. He was curious if the tea ceremony would be a traditional one or if it would have a modern touch just like the show just now.

…

As soon as the curtain had fallen, Jimin wrapped his arms around his body and shivered. The smile vanished and instead his lips were trembling, as he stepped out of the water. “W-w-hy can’t we use warm water?” Jimin asked and gladly took the towel Jungkook offered, shaking his wet hair to let the young maiko feel the cold for himself. “You did so well, Kook.” Jimin easily let him help to get out of his wet clothes, “I’m so proud of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Jung will give you more solos soon.” 

Jungkook quickly shook his head, cheeks dusted pink from the praise, “Ah, no, it’s fine like this. I’m not even close to your level. You should have seen the way the visitors were mesmerized by you, all their attention was solely on you when you danced.” Jungkook sighed quietly. He was actually a little jealous but he loved Jimin too much to let that affect him or their friendship. “I bet you’ll receive a new marriage proposal by the end of the week.”

“You don’t have to be close to me. You’re amazing on your own,” Jimin smiled at Jungkook genuinely and then nodded at their dressing table that stood backstage. All the other geisha’s were either still touching up their make ups or already out and doing service, so there weren’t many around. Jimin liked it better this way, when it was just the two of them. He trusted Jungkook – and only him. “If it just would be so easy as a proposal,” He chuckled quietly, too much pain in his words and for a moment sadness washed over his face, before he blinded Jungkook with a smile again. Grabbing the powder quickly, Jimin pushed it into the maiko’s hands, “Will you help me touch up my makeup?” 

“Of course!” Jungkook eagerly took everything Jimin would need and then helped him as best as he could. He didn’t comment on Jimin’s strange behaviour. Jimin had always loved dancing so he wasn’t like those who wanted to built a home with someone and get a family as soon as possible, leaving their former life behind without the blink of an eye. Still Jungkook couldn’t help but bring it up from time to time. Because he was fascinated by that thought just as much as he was scared. He didn’t want to lose Jimin, ever but he knew that Jimin would only be his mentor for a little while longer. As soon as he had become a geisha himself he wouldn’t “require” Jimin’s care. The thought alone made his chest tight and had him gripping his own silk robe even tighter. He didn’t feel like he was ready. It was an honor that Hoseok thought his education and training were finished and he wasn’t even the one with the shortest training period but still, Jungkook didn’t want to change anything in his life, not even achieve what he had worked for so hard if it meant that he would lose the only person who had ever truly cared for him.

Jimin had his eyes closed while Jungkook was doing his best to touch up his makeup, completely relaxed. When the younger set the final dash of rouge, Jimin leaned over to look in the mirror with a content smile. “Thank you.” In the reflection his gaze wandered up towards the clock involuntarily and a gasp fell from his lips. “Oh, we have to hurry, Jungkookie.” Jimin jumped up from his seat and quickly went over to where his robe was hanging, waiting to be worn. “Quick, help me.” As much as they had to hurry, Jimin still took off the delicate clothing as careful as possible. He had ironed it for hours and didn’t want to ruin it just because he got hectic. Stepping into the robe with Jungkook’s help was much easier and he would never be able to tie it all up without his help. A geisha always needed the help of their maiko, or a dresser. When he was about to give the belt over to Jungkook, his eyes flickered over to the backstage door as it opened. Without a second thought, Jimin bowed his head, pushing Jungkook simultaneously to do the same. 

Hoseok entered the room, a pleased smile on his lips to see his dancers bow immediately and elegantly for him just like they were supposed to. He gave them a sign to relax and then waved Jungkook closer. “Our guests are waiting already in the main room. Tae is with them but as you know he can’t serve them alone so please help him until Jimin is ready, will you?” Jungkook’s eyes flickered over to his friend, a little too wide and nervous because he normally wasn’t even allowed to do a single step without Jimin and now suddenly he was supposed to serve with another geisha though of course this wasn’t a request but an order so he quickly bowed and lifted the long layers of silk that he was wearing to run over to the main tea room. 

Hoseok took the belt from where Jungkook had wordlessly put it down and had Jimin turning around for him. He carefully smoothed down the layers of his robe so that the belt would fit snug and perfectly around his waist. “You danced beautifully today, as always.” He praised him honestly while placing the belt around his waist. Jimin held it in place at the front so Hoseok could pull it tight. He did and a breathless gasp fell from Jimin’s lips. He was used to Jungkook’s gentle way of tightening it and hadn’t expected the sudden pull. But the tighter the belt the more beautiful his attire would look so he bit his lip and didn’t say anything about it.

“Thank you,” Jimin’s voice sounded a bit breathless, while his gaze flickered over to his reflection and staring right back into Hoseok’s eyes. “I apologize though that it took longer for me to get ready than everyone else,” The younger averted his gaze softly, “I’ll try and do it quicker next time.”

“It’s okay. We can just add a little more time for you to get ready next time. You need to dry yourself completely or else you might get sick. You musn't get sick, Jimin. You are the heart of the show. My precious little hummingbird.” He put in the last pin and then gave the younger a soft pat on the shoulder. “Off you go. Be nice to our guests, they are really wealthy businessmen and if you make a good impression on them they might come again for you and bring their money with them. So show your best side please. I know you can be really sweet when you want to.”

Jimin didn’t answer. There was no need to answer. Instead he bowed his head respectfully, before checking himself once more in the mirror and then made his way out of the backstage area, letting the younger maiko’s do the job of cleaning up after them and making sure everything was back where it needed to be.

“Hummingbird,” Jimin whispered to himself, closing his eyes to relax and ignore how tightly the belt was embracing him, making it hard for him to breathe. Instead he rolled his shoulders back to keep his posture and reached out for the sliding door.

…

Yoongi turned to look over his shoulder for the second time now, furrowing his brows at Namjoon still dazed look, as the tall man stumbled behind them. “Are you alright?” He asked with a low voice, as they followed the loud chatting group of men and Mr. Ling upstairs and to the tea rooms. “You are a little pale, Joon. You know I was just joking, right? If you still need me to get you out of here or something.” His eyes flickered to their business partner, flashing him a smile and then back to his friend as he got rid of his shoes at the front of the door and hoped for Namjoon to do the same, “It just seemed like you enjoyed it a lot. Maybe you just don’t want…the private room stuff?”

Namjoon swallowed harshly. It had been him, he was absolutely certain of that. He had known it, even before the spotlight had illuminated the dancer’s face he had felt it in his gut that this was the boy he had been looking for, the geisha with the kind eyes and the charming smile that had bewitched him with one gaze alone. This couldn’t be happening, he had just let go of the thought, had just decided to get back on his moral high horse and never step a foot into an establishment again where young boys had to be deflowered to be seen as an adult and now... now the only thing he could think of was that boys face and how utterly overwhelmingly stunning he had performed. He wanted to see him again! 

And then he realized that if that boy was a full on geisha then he had worked his way up and had participated in the same rituals, the same routines like everyone else of his status. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought that someone like him, someone who had fallen for his eyes or his sweetness or his talent had sponsored his mizuage and therefore earned the right to have him for one single night. He had no idea if the boys were allowed to chose who sponsored them or if the just had to take the highest bidder. 

He must have looked as sick as he felt at that moment because Yoongi addressed him with worry in his tone and Namjoon quickly tried to close off his feelings. There was no time to have a full on breakdown over being interested in a geisha. “Don’t worry about me please. It’s fine. I’m just thinking about the performance.” He wasn't even properly lying as he had been thinking about the performance over and over again - the part that “his” geisha had danced. 

“Good,” Yoongi smiled, patting Namjoon’s shoulder reassuringly, “Tell me if you need some fresh air or anything. I think we were all blown away but remember we can’t fuck this night up, okay? We still need him to sign the papers.” The room they stepped in was far more traditional than the theater itself, but still it held an extravagant style that it had Yoongi speechless as he had never seen it before in any other tea house. The dark wooden table in midst of the large room was filled with snacks and it pulled Yoongi in right away and with him Namjoon as he still held onto his friend’s arm. He barely gave the other decoration a second glance, the food far more interesting than anything else. It didn’t take long for a few of Mr. Ling’s other business partners to come in and join them at the table. Yoongi relaxed visibly, when he could see Namjoon getting back into his natural habitat: talking business. That was until the door slid open and a young boy sat on his knees, bowing deeply to greet the men, making all of them snap their heads around.

“Good Evening,” Taehyung’s low voice send a shiver effectively down everyone’s spine and he slowly looked up, a mischievous smile on his lips, “I hope you enjoyed the show. It would be a great pleasure for me to…” The geisha got caught off by a push on his side, when someone placed himself right next to him rather roughly. Heavy breathing indicating that the other had run all the way up to the tea rooms instead of walking slowly as they were supposed to. Taehyung eyed Jungkook from the side, trying not to roll his eyes in annoyance. At least the younger was bowing deeply. “It would be a pleasure for us to join you tonight and celebrate with you.” Taehyung ended his greeting with a smile, although he wanted to grab Jungkook by his collar to tell him a word or two but the customers were more important to entertain now. Getting up, Taehyung walked inside and sat down right next to Mr. Ling, leaving Jungkook to close the door behind him.  

It was almost funny how one person could hold so much attention on himself just by being there. The boy slowly prepared the tea and they watched him, business pushed into the back of their heads while the little maiko who had rushed into the room at last minute helped as best as he could. He was pretty, the make up hiding most of his features but he had a cute mouth and big doe eyes and Yoongi found himself smiling at the younger’s cuteness as he quickly gathered everything necessary for the tea ceremony. After the tea was ready and Mr. Ling had a steaming cup in his hands he sighed contentedly and finally addressed what they had been waiting for: “Well, did you bring the papers? Now would be the perfect time to talk a little about what each of us will make of this little arrangement of ours.” Yoongi was the one keeping the documents in his bag because Namjoon had a habit of losing stuff so he pulled them out and gave them over. While Mr. Ling losely scanned the paragraphs Yoongi’s eyes wandered back to the Maiko who filled cup after cup of tea. 

Everyone else was talking. They had signed the papers for the overall agreement this morning and now it was about how much their partner was willing to invest in Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s business. The most important part.  Namjoon was gesturing around, telling Mr. Ling and his co-workers how much percent they needed to make this work. Everyone was fixated on the interaction - but Yoongi. 

Jungkook tried his hardest not to bite his lip and therefore ruin the lipstick he wore as he concentrated to fill in each cup perfectly. It was different when he was with Jimin, then he wasn’t as nervous as he was without him and Taehyung didn’t help in that case. The geisha was sitting close to Mr. Ling, obviously knowing the familiar face. It was clear to Jungkook that Taehyung wanted to have the highest tip tonight, going for the seemingly richest man of the group. The other had a habit of making a competition out of everything and now that he had the chance to be there right before Jimin would chime in again, he would use it as his advantage. Jungkook eyed Taehyung from the side who was laughing along with a joke, touching the man’s thigh ever so lightly. It was a moment where he lacked concentration, his fingers trembling from holding the heavy teacup that was burning his fingertips simultaneously. It was enough to make him spill a bit of the hot water right into the young man’s lap and Jungkook’s eyes widened immediately, just hoping that Taehyung or anyone else hadn't seen anything. He would be doomed if Hoseok knew that he wasn’t even able to pour in tea correctly. Gulping heavily, Jungkook’s gaze was fixated on the young man, completely frozen in shock.

Yoongi’s eyes seemed to find their way back to the young boy over and over again - while the little Maiko was concentrated on anything else but him. He didn’t even look at him, he either kept his gaze fixated on his tea or held his head bowed in a polite manner - which would have been a little more convincing if he wouldn't sneak glances at the geisha in the room who was entertaining mostly Mr. Ling right now. Yoongi couldn’t care less. He was more intrigued by the boy who had finally arrived at his place and was trying to fill the tea cup that stood in front of him. Again he sneaked a glance and the teapot wavered, hot tea spilling over. Yoongi flinched hard and the boys froze immediately and so fully that it looked like he was under some kind of petrification spell, his eyes so wide that it was almost comical. When Yoongi had gotten over the little shock of the hot liquid on his skin he carefully, slowly reached for a napkin and dabbed the tea away from his clothes. Spilling tea on customers was an affront in every tea house and he couldn’t imagine what the consequences must be for a Maiko in such an exclusive establishment. The younger must be scared out of his mind. So Yoongi gave him a little wink and then placed his finger over his lips to signalize that he would keep it their little secret.

The confusion was written all over the young dancers face and only when he realized what Yoongi had done, did a smile and a blush on his cheeks appear. Jungkook bowed in gratitude, placing the tea can back on the warmer and placed his hands in his lap. The kind man had just turned back to the conversation as they shook hands and agreed on a sum of money that Jungkook didn’t catch because he was still wondering about how that small little wink made him so flustered. He bit his tongue as they all cheered and Taehyung immediately took the moment to attract all the attention to himself, not giving Jungkook a chance to intertwine in a way, so he sat there quietly, watching with a smile on his lips. Although this way, Jungkook could observe closely. 

It was pretty clear that Mr. Ling and his partners were used to Geisha’s around, easily mingling with Taehyung and starting to play games with him while the other two young men seemed pretty new. The taller, slim one looked rather absent again and Jungkook furrowed his brows, wondering where the man’s thoughts were when he noticed Yoongi’s gaze on him again. He startled a little, his mouth opening to say something just to close again in nervousness. Jungkook could feel his heart race, trying to seem collected on the outside and do whatever Geisha would do now: offer their entertainment. He quickly reached into one of his pockets, getting out a stack of cards and held them out for Yoongi to take, while bowing his head. Jungkook didn’t dare to say something, only making a small sound when Yoongi wasn’t taking his offer right away. 

The little maiko was the cutest thing he had ever seen. He knew that he must be blushing even though he couldn't see it through the the makeup because the boy acted so shy and flustered. Apparently he didn't dare to do what the Geisha was doing so Yoongi was surprised when the younger was holding a pack of cards within his reach. He hesitated for a bit too long and the boy made a little sound in reaction that Yoongi had a hard time not to coo over. With a smile he took the cards. "Are you planning on showing me card tricks - or do you have the courage to play against me? If yes, then what's the stake? A kiss?" It was too much fun to flirt with that cutie to not do it.

Jungkook blinked up at the man - again, completely confused and rendered speechless. He shook his head quickly and took the cards away from him again to open up the pack and start sorting them. Jimin would have long scolded Jungkook about not saying anything to their customer as it seemed rude but it felt like he had lost his voice, too nervous to say something. Instead he took Yoongi’s hand to place it on the cards he just sorted and placed his palm on top to push them back to him, to signal that it was his and took another stack to push it over to Namjoon, opening his mouth to ask if he wanted to play, too while it seemed that the other wasn’t very keen on playing but rather observing everyone else. “Do you…,” It was all Jungkook could say, his soft voice breaking off when the sound of the door sliding open again made everyone turn around. 

Looking over his shoulder, Jungkook smiled brightly when he saw Jimin bowing deeply and asking to join them in a sweet tone of voice, leaving everyone to stare at him the moment he blinked up. It was just a small movement, the way his eyes were glistening, the soft smile that played on his lips. Everything just seemed perfectly timed, as if the boy knew exactly how to wrap them all around their fingers in seconds and with one simple glance. “Oh! Jimin!” Mr. Ling called out happily, throwing his hands in the air and then leaned over to Namjoon and Yoongi alike, “He is really rare to book but I did it. Just for this occasion! Isn’t he beautiful?” He laughed, cheering with his drink towards them and spilling some of the liquor in the process.

It was as if someone had dimmed the sound in the room and the moment Jimin stepped in everything snapped into focus. Namjoon stared at him, shamelessly and without even noticing, too lost in his own internal yelling. That was him. The sweet boy on the market, the stunning dancer on stage. And now he was so close that Namjoon could have reached out for him if he had dared. He wore an embroidered silk robe with a long and equally embroidered obi wrapped around his waist. Although it was beautiful Namjoon would have prefered to see more of Jimin like he had on stage because right now he looked like a carefully wrapped gift and it was obvious that the formal wear was more constricting. He was still as elegant as ever when he mingled with them, choosing a place close to the Maiko who visibly relaxed at his presence.

Jimin had ignored Mr. Lings talk completely, who was already busy with Taehyung again who gave it his all to bring back the attention to himself. He had almost chuckled at it, a smile appearing on his lips and it only faltered when Jimin’s gaze fell onto Namjoon’s. For a second, his expression turned surprised, his heart picking up its beat because he recognized him right away. How couldn’t he? The handsome stranger’s face had been stuck in his mind from the day he had seen him. Quickly, Jimin put back on his professional demeanor and bowed his head just slightly, “Are you enjoying your tea, sir?” Reaching out for the tea can, Jimin filled his cup back up without tearing off his gaze from Namjoon.

“Even more now that you’re here.” The words were out before Namjoon could think about if it would be impolite or intrusive to voice his thoughts like that and he quickly broke the eye contact in case Jimin would feel uncomfortable. He could feel his ears burn when he thought about how many men must have made unwanted flirtatious comments while talking with Jimin and how the younger must be used to it by now. He coughed a little awkwardly before continuing more put together: “Your performance was amazing by the way. It must be difficult to dance like that in the water and with all the wet clothes clinging to your body.”

Jimin smiled softly, pouring himself some tea as well. “Thank you,” He bit his lip to not talk too much about how much he had been training for it too look like it and how many times he had slipped and fell onto his bottom. Tearoom conversations were never about them but about the visitors. Jungkook’s soft giggle interrupted Jimin and he turned to look at the young maiko, who was playfully slapping Yoongi’s hand away from his stack who was either not understanding the rules of the game or doing it on purpose to make the younger laugh when he made mistakes. “What brings you here to our lovely teahouse,” Jimin turned back around to Namjoon, looking over to Taehyung who was pouring in one drink after another for their visitor whose ears seemed pretty red already. “You haven’t been following me, have you?”

“Business,” He answered, a little embarrassed that Jimin had seen through him right away. Even though he probably meant it as a joke there was some truth behind it considering Namjoon had actually tried to find him before. He decided to find out how Jimin would react if he knew the truth so he gathered all his courage for a confident smile and added, “What if I had? Maybe you bewitched me the very moment I saw you.”

Jimin cocked his head to the side, his hands wrapped around the warm cup and smirked, “Isn’t that what a Geisha is supposed to do?” Jimin couldn’t explain what it was, but it didn’t feel like they were in a tea room filled with people who were playing and loudly chatting. Their own voices were soft, quiet and their gazes were glued on one another. “What kind of business are you working in?” Jimin asked, shifting a little closer to Namjoon.

“We manufacture home decoration and furniture with korean inlay work.” Normally he didn’t like to brag but somehow he wanted to impress the dancer with what he had so he pulled out his special pen and held it out for him to see. “Like this. My partner Yoongi designs them and I make sure that they look as good in the finished product as they do on paper.”

Jimin took the pen from Namjoon, turning it in his hand to look at it more thoroughly. It was beautiful. More beautiful than anything he’d ever seen. An it was just a pen after all. “You should think about expanding in the fashion business,” Jimin smiled brightly at him, reaching for Namjoon’s hand to place the pen back into his palm softly and making sure to touch the other ever so lightly. It seemed natural, but every movement was trained, ever feather light touch or stroke against the customer a way to lure them in further and to Jimin it was second nature. He didn’t need to think about anymore. But still he couldn’t help but notice how soft Namjoon’s hands felt. “It is really beautiful. Just imagine one of the designs on our costumes…,” He looked down at his own robe, “I bet it would look absolutely stunning. I’d buy all of your designs….” Jimin blinked up at the handsome man innocently, “I didn’t catch your name earlier, sir.”

“I’m not sure if the designs would look as nice as embroideries... but maybe I can ask Yoongi to design an obidome for your costume.” His heart beat quick and hard against his ribs. If he really planned on doing this then he would need to come back to give it to Jimin - and see him again. The touch of the younger’s hand was soft but electrifying and Namjoon wished that he could take his hand for real. He swallowed down his answer which would have been ‘you already look stunning enough’ to not be creepy. “My name is Kim Namjoon. And you are?”

“Jimin,” He breathed out, his cheeks dusting in a rose color although there was nothing to be embarrassed about. It still felt way too intimate in a way. “Please don’t go out of your way for me.” He bowed his head softly, “Just being able to see your designs like this was already enough. I hope I can come by and buy something beautiful from you. I’m not out in the city very often but I would love to see your bigger designs one day.” His eyes lit up, sparkling in the dimmed light. Jimin would never earn enough money to do so, but just the single thought about owning something so beautifully made him dream. “So, you’re not just handsome but also smart and talented when it comes to business.” Jimin reached for the snacks, leaning over Namjoon a little before offering him some. “Your wife must be very proud.”

They both knew that buying something from him was out of the question for Jimin or else he wouldn’t be a geisha in a tea house but a tea house owner himself if it was the love for the old arts and traditions that kept him there and not his fate that had brought him into this at a young age. You didn’t decide to become a geisha. You either did it for family duty or money and survival. But right now they both pretended so Namjoon just nodded and smiled, the idea of asking Yoongi to design a little gift anchored in his mind. He laughed when Jimin started to flirt with him, playing along. “Oh, yes, if I had a wife I am sure she would be so proud of her amazing husband,” He gentle shook his head, chuckling before confessing a bit more seriously, “...that’s the problem with a booming business. If it goes really well you don’t have the time for a family and if it doesn’t - then you don’t have the money for one.”

Jimin placed his hand on Namjoon’s thigh softly in a sweet gesture, “That’s just an excuse. If it’s love then believe me, you’ll make the time and effort. And if your partner isn’t appreciating the work you put in, the passion you have for your business then maybe they aren’t the right one.” He nodded determinately when in reality Jimin knew nothing about love, but just the stories from books and what others told him. 

Jungkook’s eyes widened when he saw Jimin and the customer so close together. Other than him Jimin could be a bit more bold and touch them but still he hadn’t seen Jimin act so intimately with a stranger before. But there was no way that he knew that man, Jungkook was sure that Jimin would have told him if they were serving friends tonight. He almost missed Yoongi’s turn and only reacted when the other asked him if he was giving up already. “No, I’m not but.. I have to make sure that Jimin is on time for his next appointment which means that sadly I’ll have to leave soon.” He bowed politely and to his own surprise there was real regret this time. 

“I see.” Yoongi nodded and collected the cards. “I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to play with you again to find out who the winner is. If I win I’m allowed to kiss you and if you win it’ll be the other way round, right?” He winked again as he gave the cards back to where they belonged.

“I…I…” Jungkook gulped heavily, the nervousness right back the moment his customer was talking about kissing him – again. “You’re not allowed to touch me, Sir.” Jungkook added quietly, taking the cards from him and putting them back in his pocket. Averting his gaze, Jungkook was playing with the hem of his belt. “It would be a pleasure nonetheless to play again and welcome you back into our establishment,” It felt a little off to say his usual goodbyes when he really wanted to tell Yoongi to come back and maybe even ask for him, even though he wasn’t technically allowed to be booked, yet. 

In contrast to Namjoon, Yoongi knew the rules though therefore he asked right away and without missing a beat, “Do you normally accompany Taehyung or Jimin or do you switch?” Because next time he visited he wanted to make sure that he was able to find Jungkook again without embarrassing the younger and ask for him directly when he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Jimin,” Jungkook nodded over to the Geisha as an answer, “He trains me and supervises me and therefore I help him. You can find me wherever he is.” The words came out of his mouth faster than he could take them back, biting his lip and smudging the red lipstick in the process just a little. He bowed his head again, hiding his cheeks with it that were blushing red right now. 

“Thank you. I’ll make sure to ask for him then.” The boy’s eagerness was utterly cute and Yoongi was happy that the Maiko had told him just like that because it meant that he really was okay with seeing him again or else he would have just needed to lie and tell him that it changed from time to time or that he didn’t have a regular supervisor at all and he would have had to leave it at that as you could randomly book geishas if you wanted and had the money but you could never request who was accompanying them.

Jungkook hurriedly gathered the seam of his long costume and went over to Jimin, watching every step as to not fall over his feet or one of the tea pots. When he reached the two men he quickly kneeled back down and bowed his head. “Jimin? Sir? I’m so very sorry that I have to interrupt you so unpleasantly it’s … the time.” He still couldn’t talk as smoothly and perfectly like Jimin and he often laid awake at night wondering why he couldn’t just relax instead of making mistakes.

Jimin startled a little when Jungkook plopped down beside him, a hand on the youngers thigh making him lose his stiff posture. “I apologize for my short visit,” He addressed Namjoon with a sad smile, that was far more genuine that he’d like to admit in that very moment. “I am unfortunately awaited somewhere else right now so I need to leave but Taehyung will stay here with you, so don’t worry. You’ll be in good hands.” Jimin bowed his head as well and with being so close to Namjoon before he could take in his cologne, the sweet musky smell that was the handsome stranger - just like he remembered it from the market when he stood so close by him. Jimin nodded towards Jungkook to get up, taking his own costume to lift it up just enough to get up comfortably, when a hand wrapped around his wrist kept him in his place. He froze completely, his eyes widened for a moment while Jimin stared back right into Namjoon’s eyes. His heart was threatening to jump right out of his chest. There was a hint of fear mixing with the excitement that rushed through his veins. Just as much as a maiko, Jimin wasn’t allowed to get touched without asking first, especially not pulling or holding him in place in any kind of way. He licked his lips nervously, his breath coming in short, soft pants and Jimin wasn’t so sure if it was because of how tight his belt was wrapped around his waist or just because of the fact that Namjoon was holding him like this right now. 

Namjoon had acted out of instinct and so quickly that he was surprised by his own courage. Jimin looked at him, wide eyed and real, all pretense fallen away because of the shock. He looked younger like this, vulnerability shining through were there had been nothing but confidence before. Namjoon immediately loosened his grip because the last thing he wanted to do was to startle Jimin or get an official reprimand of the tea house for breaking their rules (also the little Maiko looked like he was ready to fight him if he didn’t let go of Jimin, all shyness gone in his fierce sense of loyalty). 

“My apologies.” He let his hand slide off of Jimin’s arm, caressing the inside of the younger’s wrist with a feather light touch of his fingertips. “I didn’t mean to be harsh. I just really want to see you again and... I was afraid you’d be out of the room before I could ask for your for permission to do so. Would you please forgive me my inconsiderate and intrusive act and allow me a chance to proof that I can be a pleasant conversational partner instead? I promise that you won’t regret it.”

A shiver ran down Jimin’s spine when Namjoon’s fingertips soothed along his skin touching him so delicately, so softly as if he was breakable and only needed to be handled with care. Jimin’s eyes were still wide, but he listened attentively. His heart skipped a beat when Namjoon just simply asked for permission - which he really didn't have to. Anyone who was allowed to come back, was allowed to ask for any Geisha. It was a simple act of kindness from Namjoon to ask if Jimin wanted to see him again, too. Jimin never had any visitor to be so considerate and ask what he wanted and it rendered him speechless for a moment. Letting his hand brush along Namjoon’s fingertips, Jimin nodded softly. “I accept your apologies,” He whispered and let go off Namjoon, “I hope to see you again, too.” With a smile and a racing heartbeat, Jimin got up and placed a hand on Jungkook’s back to push the younger out of the room with him. He stole one last glance at Namjoon, before he slid the door close. 

“Have you ever seen such a beautiful boy?” Yoongi hummed, leaning against Namjoon. He was sure he could still hear Jungkook’s giggle in the back of his mind. “No, never.” Namjoon sighed, completely mesmerized - and failing to notice that they were talking about two different boys. 

He straightened a little before addressing Yoongi again, “I want you to do me a favour.” Startled, Yoongi nodded without his usual teasing about how he needed to think about it and wanted something in return “I’d like you to tell me all those tea house rules you know and... and maybe you could include an obidome design next time you’re drawing.” 

Yoongi was silent for a moment - and then broke into laughter, “Damn, those boys really got you this time, hm? If I had known all it would take to convince you that tea house visits can be pleasurably would be a reservation at a high class one I would have done that years ago.” He was still chuckling, completely surprised by that sudden development. “So.. will you do it?” Namjoon acted almost shy in his request now. 

“Sure. Whatever makes you happy, Nams!” Namjoon carefully overlooked Yoongi's wink at him.

…

“Stop pouting, Jungkookie,” Jimin chuckled as they hurried down the hallway and back to the powder rooms and where they usual got ready for visitors. “I’ve never seen you pout before. I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer I will ask Taehyung to share the tip he gets, okay? I’ll give you my share of it, too.” The geisha patted his shoulder softly, thinking that Jungkook was mad that he didn’t get his usual tip which were always important to them, to pay of their debts and buy themselves little things. Especially for a maiko, who always just got less than a geisha’s tip it was necessary. “Kook, would you mind loosening my belt a little?” Jimin was panting when they finally could close the door behind them to freshen up, “I can’t dance like this.”

Jungkook kept it to himself why he hadn't been ready to leave yet but he was still a little embarrassed that he had liked a random man so much. While he loosened Jimin’s belt his tongue also came a little lose and he couldn’t help wondering and asking, “Do you know who they were? I’ve never seen them before but Tae acted like he knew them. Also... you weren’t there in the beginning so.. I spilled some tea? On one of them? And they didn’t yell at me.” He was mumbling the last sentences so shyly that Jimin could barely understand him and when he wanted to turn around in surprised Kook kept a hold of his belt and kept hiding behind his back. “Do you think that means he likes me? Or does he just not care about spilled tea?” 

Jimin held onto the table while Jungkook was keeping his belt so tightly in his hold that he couldn’t turn around, but he still tried to look over his shoulder. “You spilled tea?” His voice sounded surprised, “You never spill something, Kookie. You can be lucky they didn’t say anything...maybe he did, yeah. Anyone would be a fool not to like you.” When Jungkook was finally done, Jimin took a deep breath and sighed. “Mr. Ling is a regular visitor whenever he is in our city. He’s a businessman from Japan. Very wealthy. And he likes to bring new guests to the house. But I didn’t know the others. Not really.” The geisha began to explain before he touched up his make-up a little, mumbling under his breath, “I just saw him at the market once. That’s all.”

Jungkook had ears like a lynx though. “Him? Who’s him? The guy you were talking about? The lanky one? The one who held you?” He got excited at the prospect of Jimin being interested in one of their customers. Jimin hadn’t even shown interest in the ones who had proposed to him until now. As Jimin was a geisha he was allowed to receive marriage requests and he had already gotten some but Hoseok had been refusing them all. Jungkook wasn’t allowed to ask but as much as he knew Jimin hadn’t asked why either and he found it a strange thing to not even weigh his options. Though of course he was really relieved that Jimin didn’t leave him alone here. He felt like he wouldn’t survive for even a week without Jimin. Especially with his mizuage within reach…

Jimin hummed in response, blushing slightly, “Yeah. Him. He followed me on the market, and I thought of him as handsome - that’s all. I didn’t think I would see him again.” He turned to look at Jungkook with a smile and reached for the younger’s hand to pull him closer. “You know that’s how we suppose to be like, right? One single glance and make a man fall for you?” Cupping Jungkook’s cheeks softly, Jimin looked at him thoroughly. “We are the perfect illusion, the forbidden fruit. I told you I’m good at that.” He chuckled, sounding a little off, even to himself. Quickly, Jimin cleared his throat and gave himself a quick glance in the mirror. “Will you sing while I dance?” He changed the topic easily, even though knowing his maiko, Jungkook wouldn’t let go and lightly pushed the younger out of the room with him to get to the next tea room, “It’s more fun when you play while I dance.”

“Of course I will.” Something stirred inside of him and the sadness in Jimin’s smile had hit him straight into the middle of his heart. Jimin only very rarely let it shine through that he could feel sad or lonely or lost and Jungkook knew that this man must reach way more in Jimin than just his interest if it evoked such a response. He didn’t push further though afraid of hurting Jimin further. The older was always so strong for him, the shoulder he could lean on, the person he could come to at night. He wanted to give Jimin back what he so gratefully received but he couldn’t. He knew that Jimin would never let his guard down in front of him in fear of pulling the ground from under both their feets. They relied on each other and their stable little bubble they had created. 

Who knew what was needed to make it burst.

A/N: Another story is about to begin... who is ready? Yay! I’m so happy to share this story today and so excited to see what you guys think of it!!! What do you think will happen? ♡♡♡ Oh and this story will be updated every sunday!

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[shardclan]

“I thought humans were just a myth…” Rebis mused. “No offense to you, of course.”

Ashlesha smiled absently and continued to flip through the latest in a pile of books he had taken from the library. “None taken. Our history rose and fell millennia before yours ever began.”

“Many millennia,” Arcanus rumbled. “Which makes it that much harder to believe you are what you say you are now.”

“That’s not really my problem, is it?”

“It is if you insist on remaining at Imperator Invigilavi’s side.”

“You’re welcome try and move me.” The words were spoken mildly, as matter-of-fact as if he’d commented on the weather. He glanced up over the edge of his book. “I don’t recommend it though.”

Invigilavi clenched his jaw, and shot Arcanus what he hoped was a placating look. “It’s fine.”

“It is no such thing,” said Arcanus. “And I believe you’ll find the Lady Judge agrees.”

Azricai raised a brow, but remained relaxed in her chair rubbing at the unfamiliar grooves of her new cane. She had listened to Lavi’s account of meeting Ashlesha while gently trying to feel him out, but he was beyond her. She could sense a density of presence that seemed impossible for a being so small, but his mind and heart were not on the right frequency for her to hear.

“You would believe wrong,” she said finally. “If the Imperator received a premonition, it would have only come from a witch. And an ally who can locate and identify the released spirits of the circle is indispensable.”

“The willingness to quietly yield for witch business has led us astray in the past,” Arcanus stressed. “They do not know each other’s affairs, if they do they don’t necessarily meddle, and there is no assurance of benevolent cause.”

Rebis glanced between the members of her inner court and the desperate face of her brother Imperator. His strange affinity for Lavi aside, Ashlesha didn’t give her any particular feelings of ill will. She was personally inclined to side with Azricai, but she had all of the clan to consider.

“Kiele was appointed as Coven Intermediary for this reason,” she said. “We will conduct an inquiry.”

“And in the mean time?”

“He…” Her fins fluttered. She made the effort to hold her head high. “He should be subject to the same probationary period as any other.”

“And what does that mean for me?” asked Ashlesha.

“It means you will be detained away from Aphaster proper,” Arcanus explained. “Until such time as you are cleared.”

“And away from Lavi as well?”

“If dozens of millennia of sleep did not harm you, you should be able to bear a few days mild inconvenience.”

Ashlesha ignored the mild jab and paused thoughtfully on a page. It was covered in detailed notes surrounding a meticulous sketch of some old relief believed to be of proto-beastclans. It had been a long time since he had seen account so lovingly taken, and so incredibly wrong.

He slammed the book shut and smiled up at Arcanus with barely contained irritation. “You know, I was rudely awakened by an asshole astral with delusions of grandeur at the end of a chain of events set in place by the  on your throne, and yet I have kindly offered my help in correcting your mistakes with only the price of Lavi’s companionship. I’m being very good to you, and you’re kind of shitting on my good graces, and it’s really starting to piss me off.”

Rebis clenched her fists, but her frills drooped. She had suffered dozens of little glances, especially from those who knew the last queen, that more or less implied what Ashlesha had dared to say aloud. Plenty of things came to her mind, but she stared at him in silence. She couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t sound childish. All she could do was hold out her hand to stay both Rubranova and Arcanus, who were bristling to defend her.

“Don’t… He’s right.”

“Like hell!” Lavi snarled. He stood and loomed over Ashlesha, his blood rushing. His normally mild temper was nearly overcome by the urge to slam Ashlesha’s frail body into the floor. He spoke slowly, fighting with ever word to control the white hot flare in his chest. “This is my Home, that is my Sister, and I am Imperator. If you claim to be with me, you will show her and all members of this court their proper respect, which includes following its laws. If that’s too much for you, leave.”

Ashlesha peered at Lavi, his eyes wide and uncertain. “You would pursue the astrals without me?”

“I had every intention to do it without you before you appeared. I don’t need you.”

“But what about the word of your witch?” Ashlesha pressed frantically. “You would ignore it?”

“They temper my decisions; they do not make them for me.”

In the brief disbelieving silence, the only sound was Invigilavi’s tail lashing at the floor. Ashesha’s confusion gave way to a flash of desperate fear. He seemed on the verge of shouting, but he quietly hung his head.

“Fine,” he muttered.

“Fine what?”

“Fine, I’ll do the stupid probation.”

“And your queen?”

Ashlesha grimaced. He had barely cared for the figures in power in his time. Even at Lavi’s request, he wasn’t in a hurry to swear anything to a queen whose age compared to his had to be measured in decimals and who nearly cried because he had–maybe just a bit rashly–essentially called her a baby.

“Alright, alright!” he yielded. “But I have a request first.”

“I’m not feeling especially giving with you right now.”

“I noticed.” He plucked absently at his hair, his eyes softening with contrition even as he looked anywhere but at Lavi. “I’m sorry. I’ll do as you ask, I promise.” It was only then he turned his eyes up. “Please…?”

Lavi wavered. Not because he felt pity, but because Ashlesha’s gaze was so innocently seeking both his forgiveness and his permission despite his tantrum only moments ago. Something about it left Lavi itchy and unsettled. There was something so familiar and yet so alien about the man, and it wasn’t clear whether it was his personality or his humanity that made him that way.

“What do you want?,” he sighed.

“It’s technically two things,” Ashlesha admitted sheepishly. “I’d like to meet the witch who told you that you’d meet me.”

Lavi looked to Rebis, who in turn looked to Arcanus and Azricai. “Is that a realistic request? I understood Faded was…atypical even by witch standards.”

“They are,” both answered in tense unison. Azricai continued: “But if they feel they should be present, they will come.”

“And the second request?” Lavi asked.

“That.” Ashlesha pointed to a shiny chain of onyx draped around Lavi’s massive shoulders. It was the only piece of genuine finery he wore. “Can I have it?”

Lavi reflexively covered the black chain. “This was a gift!”

“From who? …Someone you like?”

“What? No! It’s a favor from Bramble Step.”

Ashlesha squinted. “That place with the whores? Well…you’re a young man…dragon, I suppose… Really, often enough to have a favor though…”

“Lavi just give it to him,” Rebis blurted, blushing furiously under her veil.  "I don’t want to hear this!“

Ashlesha smiled smugly and held out his hand. "We have to obey our queen, right~?”

Invigilavi clenched his eyes and ran a hand from his horns to his beard. “I will be wanting it back. Undamaged.”

“Oh of course. It’s not like I’ll need it anymore once I’m with you again.” He gratefully closed his hands around it, swirling a finger tenderly against the smooth pearl clasps. “And whatever it is, its important to you. I wouldn’t ever let it come to harm.”

“I hope you’ll take a similar attitude toward the people important to me.”

Ashlesha glanced aside to the other inhabitants of the hall as though he had entirely forgotten they were there, and was well on his way to forgetting they existed. He looked back at Lavi, and made a tight, crooked smile. “I promise…to try.”

The warm alabaster, plentiful light, and extremely comfortable bed almost let Ashlesha forget he was imprisoned. The aggressive hum of a dozen wards, not so much. But he obediently sat on his bed, content to close his eyes and run his fingers along the spool of onyx and its dotting of pearls. There was no thought in his mind of Kiele, who had come and gone, or of Omen, who had peered at him–and into him and through him–and had seen something which she curiously chose not to mention.

A familiar presence stirred him and he opened his eyes. “I should have known.”

Faded stepped into the light, in a humble glamour that they had never once used among the clan. Their pelt still covered their head and obscured whatever they might have looked like beneath. Their voice was as crypt-cold as ever, but there was an edge to it where the usual sweet sing-song was. “You should have, yes. But you always were lacking in critical thinking skills.”

“Oh, don’t be so unfair. How was I to know that  'Faded’ was you? I believe what they were calling you back then was… what was it again…The Speaker? All that recognition… Becoming a major part of history must have blitzed you out of existence for a while.”

“Perhaps… But you slept through all of the Third Age and so far into the Fourth that the gods are growing restless and starting to tamper again. All that time, and you still only know me by one name I wore briefly in the Second Age? ” Their already wide mouth spread into a toothy, face-splitting grin and they giggled icily. “Idiot.”

“That’s quite a mouthful. I happen to think Speaker is the perfect name for you.” Ashlesha smirked up from under his long lashes. “Since you can’t actually do anything to me except talk my ear off.”

The smiles of the two were as different as the sun and moon, and between them the wards cracked and melted, wailing as they were crushed into nothingness between the two vast entities.

“You really don’t have two thoughts to rub together for warmth, do you?” Faded sighed. “You went to sleep because you hated your nature and you got wrapped up with fair folk and couldn’t bear it. Are you ready to take on dragons too?”

Ashlesha’s smile cracked. “I won’t. I don’t have to. I’m not compatible with them–they’re dragons. And even if not, I’m only interested in Lavi. Not like I can knock him up.”

“Mmhm… Despite it all, you have my pity. A restless existence who will never come to me… So I leave a bit of advice, for the child who is rich in knowledge and poor in imagination.” Faded began to withdraw, vanishing from the feet up like a mirage dissipating. “You should give some thought to why your form is male, and why you cling to the boy the way you do.”

“And you should go back to your graveyard and mind your goddamn business.”

Faded’s laugh echoed, though they were no longer there. “Idiot.”

@boyonetta

[dxmedstudent]

Weird Asks that Say a Lot  Meme...

My friend the wonderful @meanwhileonwednesday suggested I fill out Every even number for the 'weird asks that say a lot', so here I am. Thanks, friend! XD

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolates.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

At my first school? Artistically talented and perceptive (one teacher was very vividly impressed by my grasp of duck anatomy at like 5 years old). Then there’s the teacher at my new school who thought I had special needs because I was withdrawn (I was being bullied by most of the class, really); she was a new teacher and not really equipped to deal with that. By the end of primary school, I went back to being commended on my work ethic and smarts and artistic ability.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Hmmm I think my work clothes are mostly a formal/preppy mix. With a little bit of boho thrown in, particularly when I’m at home.

8. movies or tv shows?

I prefer movies, because they represent a lot less commitment (America, please stop giving everything like 17 seasons, I beg of you!), however TV show episodes are shorter and easier to slot into your life than a full movie.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

I was generally awful in PE. I liked benchball, can’t say that I was good in it, being yet another game where being short doesn’t do you any favours.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Either my Kickass playlist, or my Reflective playlist.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Starburst.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Curled up, on my side, in a nice big armchair with my legs hanging off the side. Surrounded by pillows, and probably a cat or two.

18. ideal weather?

Picture this: it’s a sunny day; warm but not too hot. Maybe around 24 degrees celsius. There’s a warm breeze; it’s not stifling, and it’s not cold enough to make you shiver. The trees rustle with the sound of the wind; change is in the air. You can go out in short sleeves, perhaps with the thinnest of cardigans if like me your metabolism basically died 300 years ago.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Depends on what I’m writing. I am the kind of ineffectual person who starts to write tings in a notebook, but also a couple of word docs. I have post- it notes for important things. I document ideas for my comic in a note/sketch book. I love doodling in my sketchbooks.

22. role model?

I never really had one, growing up. I guess the closest I’d get is David Attenborough.

24. favorite crystal?

My birthstone is ruby (which is red; my favourite colour!) however I also love opals; I love their irdescent (OK, opalescent, technically) sparkliness and the way they shimmer with lots of colours. I don’t see why everyone prefers massive diamonds when opals are like... so much cooler. I I don’t actually own any, but maybe one day I’ll be able to buy myself a nice one.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Go for a nice long walk, take lots of pictures, have a picnic in the park. No, I lie, my favourite activity is roping someone I care about into doing it all with me, and having even more fun. 

28. five songs to describe you?

Home - Ellie Goulding Fight Song - Rachel Platten Working Woman’s Blues - Valerie June Alive - Bird Set Free My Medea - Vienna Teng

30. places that you find sacred?

Already been answered.

32. top five favorite vines?

Alas, hard to name off the top of my head. I mainly know vines from various compilations.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Right now? Thankfully none of them.

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

That’s impossible to say! Memes were a thing before internet memes became a thing. I’d say that ‘S’ shape we all drew in primary school? Nursery rhymes? Who knows.

38. lemonade or tea?

They don’t usually compete for my love, but i have tea more often than lemonade, purely due to availability reasons.

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Some students climbed onto the roof.

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Honestly? Skirt pockets. But being a woman, jacket pockets are usually woefully ineffectual and small. Trouser pockets are a bit better, but again usually small. Whereas if someone puts pockets on a skirt, they make sure they are actually proper pockets!

44. favorite scent for soap?

Maybe honey, or roses, or jasmine.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

A baggy pair of PJs; I’m a dress for comfort kind of girl. Particularly since the places I’ve lived haven’t always been great in the heating department. I’ve been known to sleep in a hoodie when it gets cold.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I would like to be a berry, or maybe an apple. Something pinkish red. Sweet, and a little sharp.

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Probably my little brother astounding me with how grown-up he is about things. He’s pretty awesome. Or my mum just saying something wildly, hilariously inappropriate XD

52. favorite font?

I love the Komika font family for my comic. I used to use Bookman Old Style, Book Antiqa, Georgia or classic Arial for essays and things like that, when they didn’t specify Times New Roman.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

Always call the med reg if you are stuck, be nice to the nurses and always help each other. OK, I did lots of volunteering in hospital before FY1. In which case my

56. favorite tradition?

My family/culture have a specific tradition on the morning of an exam/interview/life event where you fill a cup with water and a couple of plant leaves (Slavs love putting greenery into everything). You place it at the threshold,  and give it a good kick it with your dominant foot. It symbolises your knowledge flowing, and I guess it’s a good luck charm.. You also aren’t meant to look back (literally); because you should be focusing on the task at hand. As a kid it was a comforting good luck ritual, and I don’t think I ever really grew out of it.

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I’m proud of my artistic skills, modest though they are. I enjoy creating, and I enjoy that I can make things to cheer up my friends, or things that people here can relate to.

By extension, I’m good with my hands, and that usually translates to picking up procedures and things like that pretty quickly at work. And yes, I love being able to get that cannula in (especially if it’s on the first go!)  when nobody else can. It’s a tiny, tiny thing, but it sparks a little joy. I can develop good rapports with people; which means I can help them to confide their problems, and can help them to feel better or to address things that are bothering them. It’s really mostly about listening and not being judgemental. I am proud that I can sometimes make people feel better, and feel listened to. I’m proud that I learned to try to work through my feelings. As a young person who was really quite stressed, I somehow learned how to apply what’s basically CBT to keep myself relatively sane, and I think it’s helped me a lot. It was only much later that I realised it was basically CBT when I was comparing notes with friends actually going through those kinds of therapies. I’m not perfect at it, and my mind tests me on a regular basis, but it helps.

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

I don’t know what I’d like to be in? Maybe a Ghibli film. I think I’d like that.  When I was at school, a close friend of mine just turned around and said “OMG, you’re just like an anime character”, to fervent agreement from my peers. I guess they meant one of those chirpy, ditzy shojo anime characters. I can still see myself as some shojo series heroine; frantically trying to keep it together under the pressures of magical girldom, being romantically inept, trying to fight off the baddie of the week whilst learning lessons about getting along with each other, being helpful and not being mean.

62. seven characters you relate to?

Right now? Sophie from Howl’s moving castle, Princess Carolyn from Bojack Horseman, Miranda Otto from D. Gray-Man, Elinor Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility, The Red Blood Cell from Cells at Work, Kiki from Kiki’s delivery service, and Aggressive Retsuko.

64. favorite website from your childhood?

I used to love looking at other people’s art on Elfwood or Deviantart.

66. favorite flower(s)?

Today I’m feeling the answer is lilacs.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Ugh anything bitter.

70. left or right handed?

I’m ridiculously right handed, but I’ve learned to use my left hand more effectively because of procedures etc. I’m really good with my hands, but my right hand takes over like 80% of the work.

72. worst subject?

PE in school, biochemistry at university.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

At home, maybe a 3, because I don’t see the point in suffering needlessly. However at work I’ll do whatever it takes to keep functional including taking pain relief before it gets bad because I don’t want to have to deal with pain and an on-call. I’m not sure if the scale is logarithmic? I’d rate the worst pain that I’ve had 5 ot a 6, and that made me vomit and curl up into a ball and basically unable to do anything. But I can imagine pain that’s much, much worse than that was, so perhaps I just can’t thin

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

This kind of new potato salad my mum makes with onions. Raw onions are totally a trigger food for my IBS, and any time my mum feeds me anything full of onions, she’ll tell me I can take them out if they upset my tummy. And every single time I’ll pile even more onions into my plate because there’s no way I’m letting my gut dictate my life. Turns out, I’m even more stubborn than my IBS; I just don’t want to give up some of the foods that set things off. My GP once recommended a FODMAP diet, and having had a look at all the stuff I’d have to cut, I resolved I’d only start cutting things if my symptoms got really bad.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Honestly, I have no pretentions to snobbery. The best coffee is the one you get when you are about to collapse on a night shift, even if much, much better coffee exists in the world. And the best sushi is the plain supermarket one you get between on-calls to treat yourself, even if the one from a good restaurat is so much nicer.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

I wear a lot of jewel tones, but I also wear a lot of earth tones, and I don’t really see them as being in competition. Rock all the colours!

82. pc or console?

Phone. XD I don’t play much on either, mainly due to time. Phone has the benefit of being in my pocket when I’m at a loose end on the bus, or at my parents’. I don’t sit down and make time to play, I play games in the stolen minutes here and there when I don’t have much to do.

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Classical music radio in the office (because it’s the most neutral), retro stations in the car (or whatever your guests would like), and podcasts at home when you are by yourself.

84. barbie or polly pocket?

I didn’t have a real Barbie (fairly sure ours were knockoff dolls) but I do have fond memories of making outfits for our toys. Though our favourites were always various little animal models who got into all sorts of adventures.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies, but it’s a close call. Really, I’d have to say biscuits, since I eat those more often than either of the above.

88. your greatest wish?

For myself? To be happy. For others? Ditto. 

90. luckiest mistake?

Getting into my first degree. Feels like I fell into it, but it set me off on a great path, and I don’t regret that my initial path was far from straightforward.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

All of the above.

94. favorite season?

That kind of Spring-Summer interface when all the plants are in bloom, and the weather is warm but not too hot, and the days are long.

96. desktop background?

Arietty’s bedroom from the Ghibli Borrowers film adaptation. I’m a sucker for ghibli aesthetic; usually because my rooms end up similarly haphazardly adorned with cool things. 

98. favorite historical era?

Every era has its own awesomeness. I feel very fondly for the regency period because of all the books I’ve read set in it, likewise the Victorian period. Though both aren’t without their problems. I realised that I style my hair like a Victorian; centrally parted with a neat, low bun at the nape of the neck. XD

I think that might be all the questions! Phew!

[my-heart-in-his-teeth]

The Devil You Know: Part One (of 4)

Summary: A follow up to Mischief and the Maiden , Loki interferes with Elaina in the best ways. Contains both silliness and smut, consider yourself warned on both counts.

Author’s Note:  I’m tagging those who took the time to write kind comments on my last work because they were awesome enough to do so and that’s what really encouraged me to write this one. I would’ve responded to each of them, but I can’t do so as THIS blog and it seems weird to do so as my completely unrelated main blog. Anyway, thank you!!

Should Tumblr Implode: I’m also here at : https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_heart_in_his_teeth/works

The party droned on for what felt like days.

Her tolerance for this amount of people had peaked and fallen so long ago that she couldn’t even remember when she began feeling plastic, nodding and smiling her way through conversations she couldn’t care less about with people she barely knew. Every time she escaped from one cluster of people, she was shepherded into another.

She had gotten comfortable with being uncomfortable in crowds, but this one was wearing her thin. The men all a matching set in tailcoats and ties, slicked back hair and martinis while the women shimmered in sequined dresses, jewels sparkling off their arms and spilling down their necks in long strings- even glittering from the feather adornments in their bobbed hair.

She was suddenly very aware of how underdressed she was. Glancing down at her faded black lounge pants and thin t-shirt which was altered so that it was missing the sleeves and open at the sides, allowing a view of her lace bralette beneath it, she crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously and backed away, almost bumping into an enormous champagne fountain.

“Jesus!” She gasped, looking up at the towering monstrosity flowing the fizzy drink down from a giant bottle a couple of hundred glasses up. The opulence of the people mirrored the endless ballroom they were in; so much gold on the white clothed tables and the sconces, while giant crystal chandeliers twinkled from above. She felt like an extra in The Great Gatsby.

Or The Shining.

Honestly, she didn’t care which as long as she could find the exit to the place. She excused herself awkwardly, dodging protesting arms and walking with purpose toward the other side of the vast room where she hoped the door was. Finally, she spotted a large archway above the growing sea of people, but her relief was short lived when she saw another lavish hall beyond it.

Her frustration fueled her and she pushed on. At last she saw a great, gilded double door at the top of an impossibly grand staircase. She walked faster, no longer caring how frantic she looked. She would make her apologies to...whoever tomorrow. Why couldn’t she remember whose party this was? And why had she agreed to come? She could figure that out tomorrow as well, for now all she cared about was the freedom just a hundred stairs away.

A hand lightly touched her shoulder and she glanced behind her to see the gentle, smiling face of Patrick Stewart. Suddenly it hit her, it was HIS party. She couldn’t have said no to Patrick Stewart, of course. Seeing that he was wearing his Star Trek uniform made her regret her outfit even more.

“Elaina! “ He said in his lovely British voice. “I’m so happy you were able to come. You did bring the artifact of course. I thought we could pass it around while you give the eulogy.”

She hadn’t remembered any artifact and had somehow not realized she was meant to give a eulogy or even who it was for. “ I....” she stammered. “I just need to get it from my car. She lied. She lied to PStew! But she urgently needed to be outside. Being outside would surely clear her head.

“Excellent!” He held her hand. His skin was very soft. “I cannot wait to hear of how you acquired this one. It is simply fascinating to me how you have been able to find all of these wonderful treasures. You must truly have a gift”

“Oh, I’m just very lucky.” She clasped her hand over his and wished she could remember how their friendship came to be, but her brain seemed to be shrinking into confusion by the second and she could only hope that no one noticed.

She knew she had to pretend everything was fine until she could figure this out, but she hoped he would understand if she ended up running away into the night screaming instead of giving a speech she hadn’t prepared to a crowd of what had to be hundreds of people. “You’ll just have to excuse me, while I pop outside to get it...”

“Of course!” He beamed. “Ah, but first I would love to introduce you to some friends of mine.” He nodded over her shoulder and she turned to see Benedict Cumberbatch walking up to them, a meek Martin Freeman on his arm looking adoringly up at his face.

A brief, but fierce, battle waged inside her before she firmly but politely said no and excused herself again. If she delved into whatever that was about, she knew she would never leave. She continued up the stairs that seemed to increase in number the closer she got to the top, running now, she pushed herself faster until finally she pushed the heavy door open and bolted outside, not stopping until she got to the street.

The cool night air felt good on her skin and now she focused on getting home. She didn’t remember if she’d brought her car. Wait...that’s right, she didn’t even OWN a car. Ahead, she saw a bus stop. Good enough. After sitting on the bench for a second, she realized that she had no clue where she was. Was it New York? It felt too foreign. She traveled so often now it was hard to keep up. Hopefully the bus driver could help her.

As soon as she had that thought she saw headlights in the distance. They were moving strangely, instead of steady and straight they sort of hopped. The reason for that was revealed when the thing came into view. It was a Catbus. It’s eyes were the headlights and when it stopped, the orange furry doors opened to reveal the soft seats inside of its body.

Elaina hesitated and the cat’s Cheshire smiling face turned towards her. She knew her Ghibli and that this bus could take her anywhere, but she thought better of it. “Uh, that’s okay. Nevermind. ” She told it. “I think I'll walk.” The Catbus meowed indifferently and continued on its way.

“Well now that,” A velvet voice spoke from beside her. “Was truly...special.”

She looked up at the figure that had stepped into view beside her. Pale and perfect with dark hair combed back and curling up slightly just above his shoulders. His eyebrows were raised toward the direction of the Catbus.

“I know someone who travels by cat- albeit in a comparatively mundane fashion.... ” He trailed off, then turned to her with a warm smile that reached his eyes and crinkled them at the corners. “Hello, Elaina.”

“Loki.” She said softly. Recognition was like a balm for her troubled head, soothing her back to her senses and lifting her heart in an instant.

She wanted to ask him if he was really there and not just another part of her yearning, stress- drunk subconscious, but she’d asked him that often enough over the years to know that he would never give her a straight answer. Even if he did, she could never really believe it.

“You know,” her own smile spread across her face. “When you said I’d dream about you, I thought the dreams would be more....”

“Enjoyable?” He turned to the grim, gray, building she’d just fled. It had not a single window and was so tall that the top of it disappeared into the night clouds. “But, come now.” He waved his hand toward it and the city street they stood on and shook his head. “You know this is not me.”

“No.” She sighed. “This is the sort of thing my asshole brain comes up with.”

“Well then, let’s slip into someplace a bit more comfortable.”

With that he took her by the shoulders and spun her around to face a couple of matching red, plush couches divided by a black lacquered coffee table inlaid with mother of pearl garden scene. A beautiful Persian rug sat on top of the hardwood floors of the seating area and photographs in various sized frames tastefully covered deep blue walls, dimly lit by the lights that ran along the ceiling.

I guess it doesn’t get much more comfortable than my own house, she thought. She had taken care to fill her home with things that had a story or meaning that was in some way personal to her so that whenever she returned to it after a long journey she would be wrapped in the stable familiarity of it all. Her home was very much her sanctuary.

“This wasn’t here before.” Loki was peering at the Klimt painting above the fireplace. “Who are these people?”

It was an unusual sight- he clad in a black high collared shirt, open at the neck in the shape of a V and over that a strange sort of jacket made of interwoven black leather and green cloth that reached down to his boots. Though not wearing a crown, he still looked every bit a mythological prince standing so casually in her in her living room.

“Umm, well I’m not sure actually.” She wondered if it had registered to him that it had been two years since he was last here. “It was painted about a hundred years before I was born. The image has very much has resonated with me lately. I even have this weird connection to the artist.”

“I see. And what “weird” connection do you have to a presumably dead artist?”

“Oh, I found an old portfolio of his sketches hidden in the pages of this coffee big table art book that my grandmother had.” She studied his profile carefully as she spoke looking for any reaction. “I mean, they were stamped with his signature and everything. It was a nearly impossible find, but quickly authenticated. “

His lips twitched upwards and he kept his eyes on the painting. “Hmm. How lucky.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve come into quite a bit of such “luck” over the last few years. ...since meeting you actually.” She added pointedly. “You know, I’ll buy a doll at a flea market in France that will turn out to be an antique Bisque or I’ll find a used book from a tiny shop in Italy that ends being a first edition Yeats- things like that.”

“Those things sound like they are probably very valuable to Midgardians.” He shrugged. “One should hope you were able to find some use for them.””

She clasped her hands in front of her and smiled knowingly at the floor. “And to think some guys just buy a girl flowers.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. This painting,” he said, changing the subject. “What about it so captured your attention, I wonder?”

“Well, it’s called ’Love’- did...did you just roll your eyes?”

His mouth smoothed out of its grin quickly. “Not at all.”

Each time he’d come to her, no matter how much time had passed, there wasn’t the awkwardness that often happens when lovers meet again. No pretending to be indifferent to their own feelings, no worrying how they might seem to each other or wondering where things might go this time. Everything seemed just as it had been that first night together, in a cabin that wasn’t really a cabin in a realm far, far away. For her part, she had no delusions about what may come of the time they spent together, she was just glad for it.

She paused to contemplate the couple frozen in the painting, forever locked in an embrace that would outlive them. The woman’s hand gripped at the man, her head upturned, eyes closed in anticipation of a kiss that would never come. Or perhaps the kiss was done and the embrace was at its end.

The man’s eyes were closed as well, but she thought he had a melancholy look to him. It seemed he could either be coming or going from her. There seemed to be a silent battle raging within each of them while a host of spirits looked on, perhaps amused at their fate.

“Does she love him?” He asked, circling behind her.

“Yes, that I’m certain of.”

“And do you think that wise?” His mouth was at her ear.

Without hesitation she answered. “No.”

His hand wrapped over hers and he led her to one of the couches, pulling her down into his lap as he sat. She could smell the leather of his clothes and beneath that the familiar heady scent of his skin. “Correct.” His fingers traced down her jawline stopping at her chin. “Sentimentality often leads to foolish choices.”

His eyes rested on her lips thoughtfully for a moment before he deftly took her face in his hands and kissed her, his mouth cool on hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and her hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, fingers disappearing into the softness of his hair.

For a blissful moment there was nothing else in the world but that kiss, then he gently pulled back, gazing at her with contented green eyes. “You have been in love, Elaina.” His elbow folded on the back of the couch, his curled fist providing a rest for his head. “I needn’t warn you of that gnawing thing within your heart that has you so vexed.”

She felt her cheeks redden. It didn’t surprise her that he knew of her life, she sometimes comforted herself with the idea that he was maybe looking in at her from his castle in a magical floating city, but other times she rather hoped he wasn’t. Like the last year.

“We don’t get to choose about falling in love. It just happens.” She could hear the regret in her own voice and hated it. “At least that’s how it is for we Midgardians.”

“It’s all about control, my dear.” His hand rested on her hip. “There’s always something you can control even within the uncontrollable. If you feel an overpowering emotion, you can channel that power into something more...beneficial.”

“Such as?”

“Anything. A more personal passion. Art. Music. Jogging? Is that what it’s called? When you run pointlessly long and slow to get to nowhere? The point is that you can bask in the pleasurable aspect of the feeling, but assign the power of the chaos such a strong emotion creates to something else.” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That way your mind can remain clear and no one unworthy will have power over you.”

She clasped his hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. There had been a man she had loved who was everything she wasn’t. Gregarious, charming, and successful, he just always seemed to have it together with never a hair out of place. Even his condo was constantly immaculate. He also was painfully gorgeous. And he actually loved her. Until he inexplicably didn’t.

She winced at the memory.

“I think you over- estimate my worth.” She said quietly.

He clicked his tongue and looked almost offended. “I do no such thing.” He said sharply. “You would do well to remember that. Tell me, who is this man would make you feel beneath him- you who has known the touch and favor of a god?”

“I don’t-I know I’m not beneath him...” she was flustered and now embarrassed. Having been the lover of the God of Mischief was one hell of a confidence boost, but she was never going to have the conceit that might have earned her. She doubted Loki could understand what it was like to be set aside by someone you cherished, to have to question what about you had made them decide you were not what they wanted.

“Perhaps,” he half smiled and traced his fingers over the patterns of lace on the sides of her bralette “You need a reminder.”

She held her breath, remembering every bit of what his masterful touch could do to her. There was a playful spark in his eyes for a just a moment before he kissed her again, this time firmly but briefly, then brought her hand to his lips and planted a kiss there as well.

“Soon.” He said with a wink and before she could question what he meant his face had dissolved into an unpleasant glow of light.

~~~

@roonyxx @carydorse @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks @starscreamloki  @glitt3rgaz3 @annievvv7 @holykryptonitekitten @silver-tongue-trickster

[haipain]

Birthday

for you, @coldtodoroki !! this is so, so, so late and i am so sorry about that dear! i’m super slow with this, i hope you forgive me aaaa :( this got preeetty long, but i hope you’ll still enjoy it!💙

I match you with miracle boy, Tendō Satori! For Tendō, I think he’d be a good match because he’s more on the extroverted side and you on the introverted side, so I think this notion of opposites attract does apply here! When you two first meet, you shyness and awkwardness won’t be much of an issue to him, his loud and cheerful personality would help in breaking the ice.

In a sense, you’d be similar to Ushijima in certain areas, as INTPs can be slightly blunt, so he’s not deterred by your bluntness, seeing how he has a close friend like Ushijima. Since you mention that you become more fun after knowing someone, he’d greatly appreciate and enjoy your presence, he likes having fun and your relationship will rarely have any dull moments!

His teasing nature would come in handy when you space out — when you’re so lost in your thoughts, he’d enjoy admiring your facial features before opting to snap you out of your thoughts through his teasing.

On another note, I think his playing style in volleyball also aids in your relationship! Since what he does is guess blocking, what that requires is very careful observation of details, and because of your initial withdrawn nature, he’d be able to pick up the small details that others won’t normally be able to pick up, which cultivates the trust and eventually draws you closer to him. Because of this, you’d feel more comfy with him over time as well!

As you both proceed into a romantic relationship, his knack for picking up small details also helps in reducing misunderstandings and conflicts! I also believe that your analytic side would work well with him, since he is also someone who is quite analytic!

Also, he’d absolutely love watching you draw! There’s something mesmerising with the way you move your hand and fingers, and he likes admiring that!

Overall, I feel like you two would bring out the best of each other, you might be slightly more open with others with his influence, and he’ll mellow out a little (his team mates would appreciate that!) or it could go the other way, with the both of you being the power couple that goes around teasing others muahaha

Another character that you can also be paired with will be Bokuto Kōtarō!

The crushed wrapper sits in balls, surrounding your hunched figure in a neat circle.

This isn’t it… this isn’t it!

With only a few hours till your first date with him, you weren’t frazzled over your outfit, neither were you flustered about your makeup or hair — there was something more important, and that was the gift for Tendō, since your first date coincidentally fell on the day of his birthday.

Now, sleepy butterflies were beginning to stir in your stomach, and you press it gently, trying to calm the previously dormant nerves. You were only trying to wrap the box that would eventually hold the gift, but every way the wrapper twisted just didn’t seem to sit well with you.

Ripping the wrapper for the umpteenth time, you crush it, tossing it on the ground without a care. At this point, you weren’t even sure if he’d like your gift, since cooking wasn’t exactly… your forte.

Okay, I still have got 3 hours, you think, flipping your phone over, checking the time to ensure that you had kept track of the time correctly. 17:25. Ah, that’s right, there’s still- 

Wait. 17:25? Tendō was coming by to pick you up at 18:00… Oh shit. Your place had gift wrappers strewn everywhere, your sketchbook not far from you, since you had decided to pull it out to pen down a few sketches, with the stress of wrapping frustrating you. Another one of his gifts sits in between the pages, but that wasn’t nearly as ready as you’d have liked, so you decided that would be a belated gift instead.

Eventually, you decide to wrap the wrapper without much thought, I mean, it’s the gift that counts, right? As for the wrapper… well, it’s the thought that counts! Quickly running to your room, you frantically sift through the clothing you had, trying to pick the best one for the date tonight.

All Tendō said, was to be comfortable, so you chose a very simple pair of jeans and a nice blouse, with the cold of the approaching winter biting into any exposed skin. 

Sometimes, you wondered if Tendō had the ability to see into the future, picking the absolute best times to drop by or carry out whatever pranks he had up his sleeves. Your shirt had barely rolled down, past your belly, and the doorbell rings, your hair still uncombed and face bare. Picking a brush, you walk briskly towards the door, hairbrush in your hair.

“Coming! I’m coming! Damn it Satori, I’m almost there! Stop ringing the bell!” you let out a small laugh, bits of the stress of the preparations floating away from you. Swinging the door open, you huff, pulling the hair brush out of your hair. Tendō had surprised you —he looked dashing, even though he was clad simply in dark jeans and a casual shirt, thick scarf wrapped around his neck. A small box sits in his hand, and he stands there, little puffs of white clouds appearing as he speaks.

“Hmm, you look great,” he jests, eyes scanning you from head to toe. Despite how the words were delivered, they were the truth, and you could tell with the smallest shift in his feet, turning them away from you slightly. 

“I could say the same to you,” you grin, the mess sitting right behind you temporarily slipping your mind. 

Tendō smirks, a haughty hmph escaping his lips. “Why of course! Anyway,” he takes a small step back, holding out the box in his hand. “Here, a gift for you.”

If there was anything you should have learnt from being friends with Tendō, it’s that he rarely does anything without reason. So the fact that you chose to pull off the ribbon on the box with such eagerness was a huge mistake on your part. Pop! Something springs out, tapping you between your eyes, a bunch of flowers springing out along with it, falling like confetti. You splutter a little, eyes growing wide. 

“Tendō…”

“A little gift for you! It wouldn’t be right to turn up to a date empty-handed.”

“Not this way! You could’ve just given the flowers like any norm-”

“Then that’d be so boring, don’t you agree?”

A small smile forces its way onto your face, and he knows you couldn’t help but agree. It was one of those things that you both enjoy, which meshed your personalities together pretty well. Well enough to land you two into a romantic relationship.

“…True.”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s really cold out here,” he shivers dramatically, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“Oh, right!” Swiftly stepping aside, you let him in, closing the door. Then you hear a gasp erupting from him, and everything comes flooding back immediately. Wait, shit!

“Actually, you know what? Uh, why not you wait outside for me, I uh-”

“You have great taste in wrapping paper,” he comments, spinning round to toss you a cheeky grin. “Yeah? I though rubber duckies would be great for your… uh, personality?” You move quickly to pick up the wrapped box, hiding it behind your back and slowly skirting the edges of the living room to get to the freezer in the kitchen.

“__? Where are you going?”

“Just, gotta get something!”

A decent sized tub sits inside the freezer, a post it stuck onto it. For Satori, it read, with a heart next to it. You tear the paper and toss it aside, cheeks beginning to burn. Carefully putting the tub inside the wrapped box, you jog out to the living room, fingers tugging a little at the wrapper in nervousness. Cooking or baking, whatever it was, wasn’t something you did often and this chocolate ice cream sitting in your hand took multiple trials and errors before getting to where it was now.

“Hey Tendō,” you breathe, clearing your throat and finally looking up to locate him. 

“I… I didn’t know you loved me that much to have such a huge drawing of me done,” he says, eyes twinkling in admiration, joy and… adoration? “Oh, and it even says ‘happy birthday Satori!’ completed with a heart! Wow~”

“Oh my god, you weren’t supposed to see that!” You rush forward, desperately wanting to rip that piece of drawing, and the sketchbook in his hands. He doesn’t seem to have seen the drawings in there, you think, brief relief settling in your heart. And then — “Oh, there’s more in there? If I didn’t know you, I’d have thought that you’re my stalker!”

“Argh!” If things weren’t going swimmingly before, now it definitely went from bad to worse. With a kick to your other leg, you trip over yourself, the box in your hand wobbling, the cover popping off with excitement, some melted chocolate ice cream drenching your hand.

“No! That was your birthday present I spent ages preparing, and now it’s…” Frustration builds up once more, and you slump to the ground, angry tears stinging your eyes. There was no way for you to rub your eyes without getting chocolate on them, and that had only served in making you feel more annoyed.

You couldn’t help the huff of exasperation that left you, at this point, it seemed like all your efforts were for naught, and frankly, it sucked feeling that way.

The feeling of someone’s tongue on your wrist jolts you, and you look up in time to catch him savour the taste of your homemade ice cream.

“It’s a little salty.”

“Perfect!” You retort. “It’s just like me, salty and un-”

“Hm, but I like the taste a ton, tastes pretty lovable to me. More importantly,” he leans in, whispering into your ears. The close proximity was more than enough to make you blush, and so, you do.

“You made it. It’s my birthday gift, isn’t it?”

All you could offer was a muted nod. He laughs beside your ear, soft breaths tickling the shell of it. 

“No wonder it’s one of the best gifts I could’ve ever asked for.”

[punkpoemprose]

Lepidoptera- A Kristanna Oneshot

Happy belated birthday @frenzy5150 !!!! Here’s a little fluff I’ve been working on for you!!!

Universe: Canon Rating: G (General Audiences) Length: 1092 Words

         The first time Kristoff saw Anna sketching was in the garden. He’d had no idea that she liked to draw, and it had struck him as odd that she hadn’t mentioned it before. There was very little that Anna didn’t tell him about. In fact, there were several things that he wished she didn’t talk about that she discussed with him daily such as the correct hair ribbons for a certain event or the way he always looked cranky when he was reading.

           He’d decided not to comment on it. He supposed that perhaps it was something that she was shy about. He was shy about plenty of things, particularly dancing, and while he’d never known Anna to be shy about anything, she understood his bashfulness and never brought it up if it could be helped. He figured that he owed her the same kindness in return.

           He’d cleared his throat and walked slowly towards her, looking to the side as if inspecting the rose bushes as he walked, allowing her all the time she needed to close her sketchbook and set her supplies in a messy pile to her side. He hadn’t said anything about it, an he had been able to hear the relief in her voice when he talked about anything and everything else. He’d decided then, that he’d wait for her to tell him about it in her own time.

           He’d smiled when he’d walked away, wondering if she knew that she had orange chalk smudged across her cheek the whole time.

           The second time he’d seen her drawing was after a rather stressful meeting. She’d spent most of the day at Elsa’s side, helping her find a decent solution to some infrastructure issue. She’d admitted after to not being particularly helpful with the actual logistics, but had provided the useful service of forcing the city’s head engineer to speak plainly, and had helped Elsa relax. When he caught her drawing, it was another accident.

           He had just been entering the castle to visit with her, and being almost night, he hadn’t seen her sitting outside, staring up at a lamp hanging on the castle’s outer wall. Not seeing her, he certainly hadn’t seen the little book setting on her lap and the charcoal in her hand. He only noticed her when she jumped from noticing him.

           She’d again, hidden the book out of sight, but this time he’d been bold enough to use his thumb to wipe a streak of charcoal from her brow. He’d smiled at her while he did so. She was always messy, no matter what she was doing. While he wasn’t much better, always coming home splattered with mud or with pine needles in his hair, he imagined that Anna could find a way to smudge her face or stain her gown in an entirely sterile room filled with nothing but air. If there was a particle of dust, a crumb of food, or a single damp spot of paint, she would find it. It seemed she attracted chaos, or was, perhaps, it’s physical incarnation.

           She’d admitted to drawing then, but didn’t offer to show him what she’d been working on. He hadn’t pried, it not being particularly in his nature, and not wanting to tease her in any way. He’d just joined her on the bench, settling his arm around her gently while staring up at the sky. He’d felt her kiss his cheek and shift around, presumably to rest her sketchbook under her bum.

           When he next saw the little notebook she’d carried with her for both interactions it had been without her presence. He’d found it resting in the grass on the edge of the meadow by the palace stables. Not recognizing it at first, he’d opened it, seeing no possible owner in the immediate area. Inside he’d found no name or evidence of its owner, but instead what seemed like hundreds of drawings, some in color, others monochromatic, all of butterflies and moths.

           He’d only realized who it belonged to when he closed it, turned it over in his hands and saw a broad smudge of blue chalk across the cover that had transferred partially onto to his fingers from holding it. The realization had sent him straight to the castle proper, his mind already coming up with ways to apologizing for peeking. He couldn’t lie to her and tell her that he hadn’t looked. Particularly because even if he could find the heart to try, she somehow always managed to see straight through him.

           He hadn’t needed to enter the castle, however, finding Anna in the garden not far off, frantically searching through the pathways until he stood before her and offered the book to her sheepishly.

           “I didn’t mean to... well I mean I meant to look because I needed to know whose it was, but I am sorry.”

           “It’s alright, it’s just not something… well you know my maids always said it wasn’t ladylike…”

           “I thought drawing was one of those things that they liked to teach ladies?”

           Anna had blushed then, “Not the drawing… the studying…”

           It had hit him then. She’d drawn only butterflies and moths. He supposed that a lady was supposed to be trained in the art of sketching gowns, faces, and room décor.

           “You draw butterflies.”

           “I study them… in a sense… When I was young my father had me tutored for a short time by a lepidopterist, a scientist who studies butterflies. He was supposed to just teach me some basics of science because my parents wanted me to have a well-rounded education. I guess I picked it up… I know it’s an odd pursuit.”

           “I think it’s interesting.”

           The next time he’d seen her sketching it had been when he returned from the mountains with fragile cargo. While walking along the paths he’d found a lunar moth setting atop a bush. He’d found it odd that it had just been sitting there in broad daylight, but once he’d realized that it was expired, he’d brought it home to Anna, only realizing after he arrived that dead animals weren’t a particularly normal gift for one’s girlfriend.

           He’d been given the privilege of watching her excitedly sketch the creature as he sat beside her with a handkerchief. When she’d taken a break, he’d carefully brushed green chalk from her fingertips before it had the chance to wind up on her cheeks. His reward had been the pleasure of watching her, and the equally enjoyable honor of kissing her when she finished.

[ferallymine]

Awakening

Revived my botw OC, Iris. This is how Link woke her up.

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

Kakariko Village was smaller than he’d thought it to be.

Link pushed his bruised body up the mountain. His memory was still vague and fuzzy, but wasn’t Kakariko bigger than this 100 years ago? Had the Calamity wrecked more of Hyrule than he realized? Thinking on it made his head hurt.

The high noon sun was bright against his eyes and hot against his skin, making him sweat despite the old, thin, loose clothing he wore. Maybe Impa, whoever that was, would give him some new clothes or at least point him in the direction of cheap armor.

Why are the people staring at me?

Link was suddenly hyperaware of the people’s eyes on him. More specifically, some were looking at the Slate on his hip. Whispers and murmurs directed at him that he could not hear. Anxiety made his mind run wild.

There was a house atop a large staircase, higher than the other houses, and two guards stood at the stair entrance. If Impa was as important as the ghost of King Rhoam said, they must be up there.

“Halt, mister!” The guards crossed their spears, blocking Link’s access to the stairway, “Lady Impa isn’t seeing anyone today.”

Link thought a moment, then pulled out the slate from his hip and showed it to the guards. If the townspeople were so entranced by it, then maybe these people would be too.

They were wide-eyed. “A-a….a Sheikah slate! Go right in. Don’t try anything though.”

“Yessir.” Link gave a little wave and continued up towards the house.

The doors were heavy and wooden. The wood seemed faded from years of weather and stress, small cracks accompanying them. He grabbed the iron handle and pushed, the door creaking loudly as it opened.

An older woman sat in the back of the room, on top of a large pillow seat. Her eyes were baggy and tired, but upon seeing Link in the doorway, they lit up in an almost childlike excitement. “Link! You’re alive!” A smile spread on her face, “Oh, it has been many years. It’s me, Impa!”

He took slow steps towards her, “I’m sorry…You seem to know me but I don’t know you.”

The excitement dimmed slightly, replaced with a look of understanding, “Ah, I see. Years in the Shrine after that dreadful attack must’ve harmed your memory.” She motioned with her hand, “Come closer. Let me see how much you remember from 100 years ago.”

---

Thoughts frantically searched for some semblance of recognition, processing what Impa had just told him. Realistic sketches of the Divine Beasts and the Champions sat in front of him on the floor.

Urbosa.

Revali.

Mipha.

Daruk.

They sounded like he did know them in a previous life- Déjà vu almost- familiar but distant. Zelda’s name at least he could place. In the days between leaving the Plateau and coming here, he’d had brief memory flashes of her.

A corner of paper stuck out from underneath Urbosa’s portrait. Link gently pulled it out, revealing another female portrait.

“Ah,” Impa seemed saddened, “Even with my age, I can’t believe I forgot Iris. I suppose it’s due to the fact we never were around each other. Plus King Rhoam despised her kind. Only recruited her to be a Champion because Zelda needed more protection and no one else could do the healing Iris could besides Mipha.”

“Her kind?” Link kept staring at the page, the faintest memory beginning to return.

“She is a witch.” Impa sighed, “The last one in Hyrule. She was treated terribly by the Castletown villagers. Never liked going into the town unless it was to leave for another region. Can’t say I blamed her.”

Link’s mind buzzed. He dropped the portrait and-

---

The day was particularly sunny. Few clouds speckled the blue sky over Castletown. The stone brick roads clicked against their boots as they walked towards the gate where their horses waited.

A small handful of pebbles hit the back of her head. Iris turned as some teenagers ran off, throwing more pebbles at her.

“WIIIIITCH!” They taunted, laughing at their hilarious antics. “EVIL WITCH GONNA TURN US INTO MICE!”

“Just might, assholes.” Iris muttered, turning to see Link and Zelda had stopped, sad looks on their faces, “Save me your pity. Let’s go.”

“Iris…” Zelda reached to grab her wrist, but Iris pulled away.

“I said let’s go. We don’t have time or energy to feel sorry for people acting like that.” She took lead, forcing Zelda and Link to follow behind her.

---

“Link?” Impa looked worried, “Are you there? What’s wrong?”

He paused, trying to find the right words, “I…remember Iris.”

“You do?!”

“We were walking with Zelda to the gate…and some town teenagers threw rocks at her…”

She sighed, “I… find that too believable. She is certainly tough from all that abuse.”

He looked up, “You keep saying ‘is’ but Iris is dead like the other Champions, right?”

“Do you mean to tell me that even after everything that happened the old bastard Rhoam still won’t show Iris any credit or good will?”

Confusion. “What are you saying?”

“She’s alive, Link.” Impa’s arms exaggerated her statement, “She’s in the second resurrection shrine underneath the Temple of Time! Didn’t Rhoam tell you?”

Link didn’t answer- he was up and running for the door. He’d made it halfway down the steps when Impa’s voice called out to him.

“Use the slate! You can teleport!”

His hands fumbled and shook as the slate came off his hip. He pushed a little too hard at the screen, finally picking the right tower to teleport. Blue wisps encapsulated him as Kakariko village disappeared from vision.

---

The Plateau tower was just down the hill from the Temple. Using the paraglider, Link jumped and flew as far as he could hold on. Landing, the grass was rough and attempted to cut against his skin. Nearby bokoblins noticed his arrival, but Link’s focus was only on the temple.

He couldn’t feel his legs as he ran up the stairs and through the decrepit entryway. He collapsed, out of breath, kicking himself for the momentary rest.

Eyes scanned the room. Where would there be a door to the underneath? Link picked himself up and frantically began searching every rubble pile, still-standing walls, and parts of the floor.

It’s been hours and he made no progress. Link collapsed against the Goddess statue in the back of the temple- emotionally and physically too drained to continue.

“Why do I even care…” Hands shaky and voice quiet, Link looked up at the statue’s face, “Why am I trying so hard to find her?”

“Because, subconsciously, you know she meant a lot to you.” Link turned his gaze to find Rhoam’s ghost standing at the end of the stairs to the statue. “Even in death, I couldn’t let go of Iris being a witch. I didn’t tell you she was here, and I’m sorry.”

“Where is the second shrine?” Link stood up; fists balled. Was this anger he was feeling? Why is he so wrapped up about the 6th Champion?

Rhoam raised a hand and pointed, “Those little Goddess statues. If you turn them to face the giant one, the staircase will open.”

---

The statues were heavier than they looked. After an hour Link finally turned them all.

A large clicking sound churned underneath Link’s feet. He stepped back as the stones began lowering. Slabs hidden within the giant statue’s base slid out, covering the little ones to form a spiral staircase. He sped down them, forcing open the Sheikah-runed doors and-

There she is.

The pool was a similar design to the one he woke up in. Water was still around her silent body. Iris’ silver hair was gently adrift, floating beautifully around her head.

A pedestal was next to the pool. Link placed his slate on it, the entire room suddenly turning a pale blue. The water drained; Iris’ body went from floating to laying on the floor of the pool.

“Iris…” Link knelt beside the pool.

---

It was dark…and then… it was blue. Eyes fluttered open, revealing the hypnotizing maroon color.

Iris slowly sat up, almost remembering how to move. She placed a hand on the side of the pool for support. Another hand, calloused but gentle, covered hers. She looked up and…

He looked and felt familiar. There was a part of her screaming to reach out, to tackle this stranger in a hug and cry for lost time. But more parts of her didn’t know him.

“You feel familiar,” Her words were quiet, voice sounding unsure if she knew how to speak, “…but I don’t know you…”

His eyes were a mixture of relief and sadness, “It’s Link. My name is Link.”

She shifted to fully face him, hands still together, “Link… I’m sorry I still can’t place you.”

“That’s okay,” He smiled, taking his other hand and running it through her hair, settling on her cheek, “I don’t really remember you, or anything that’s happened since we’ve been asleep. But I know that even if we never remember, we’ll make new memories in this new life.”

She liked that smile. “That sounds like a good plan to me.” Her other hand came up to rest over top his on her cheek. “You’re warm.”

Link’s face suddenly turned red, realizing Iris was wearing essentially the same undergarments he woke up in, but hers included a small top, “You- uh- we can find you something to wear. Let’s look around- maybe there’s a chest here with some clothes.”

After helping her out of the pool, they searched the room for chests. Iris wandered to the pedestal where Link had left his slate. It was humming, lights on it matching the blue hue of the room. She slid it around the pedestal, a light scraping sound of stone on stone matching her movements.

The lights turned to a dark blue. Link jumped as a pedestal rose from the ground next to him. This one was slightly bigger, and seemed to have little compartments outlined in orange.

“Huh…” Iris left the slate where it was and walked to the newly arrived one. Placing her hand near the compartments made them pop open, startling her.

“What’s inside?” Link tried to lean over to see.

“Some old clothes,” She pulled out a pair of dark brown pants and a matching long-sleeved shirt, both thin from the passage of time, “Not much but it’ll do.”

---

The night sky was crystal clear when they returned up the staircase. They walked to the fallen wall, where it was most visible. A barrage of shooting stars lit up their view.

Iris’ face couldn’t contain the awe or wonder she felt seeing them.

Link smiled, not being able to stop himself from staring.

This weight of fate on their shoulders would be easier to bear together.