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theodora3022 · 3 years

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Crown Jewel

(noun): a particularly valuable or prized possession or asset.

Pairing: Francis Scott Fitzgerald X fem! former assassin reader

Summary: Having betrayed the Order of the Clock Tower and fled to Japan, you hid your ability and worked at the ADA as a secretary for protection. Life was not as good, but you knew what Lady Christie would do if she discovered a traitor’s whereabouts. You knew someone would dig up your old dirt sooner or later, but why does it have to be this arrogant, awful man?

Notes: This is really self-indulgent (to satiate my cravings and daddy issues), so read it at your own risk. I am not comfortable with cheating, so Francis is single in this one and never went bankrupt.(But he is still a family man, his wife Zelda passed away before the events in the show) He is an arrogant bastard in canon so you might find his behaviour offensive but that is just how he is. Excuse my pathetic Canadian English, as I cannot write in British English at all. This fic took me too many hours to write, thankfully it is finally done...

Special thanks to my friends for beta reading this long thing, your encouragement and praises are what kept my fragile sanity intact in the process!

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mild bimbofication, mild objectification, coercion, implied dub-con(We all know what happens in marriages right?), Yandere themes

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines.

She was beautiful for the way she thought.

She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved.

She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad.

No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks.

She was beautiful, deep down to her soul.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

The entire Fitzgerald Estate is finely, thoughtfully decorated, lavish even. Like photographs right out of a luxurious architecture magazine, with marble floors, persian carpets and high raised ceilings. A manor that sits on the top of a little hill, surrounded by trees and flowerbeds. But no matter how beautiful it may be, no one can never feel quite at home in prison. You thought as you lean back on the living room sofa near the patio, slowly dozing off in the afternoon sunlight with a half-read novel on your lap. Maybe you would go for a swim later, you could use a soak before he returns.

It’s easy to forget how much blood is on your hands in peaceful times like these. Ever since he made you dispose of your count book, you can barely remember how many people you had slaughtered.

Your hands were once covered with callouses from hours of training, but now they are as smooth as the velvet curtains. The glow from the big diamond ring on your ring finger irritates you so very often, but he had warned you not to take it off.

“Lady Fitzgerald? Mrs. Smith is here for your fitting session.” It is one of the maids. Ah, is the tailor here already? You put up a smile for the guest and got up, silently cursing your “husband” in the process. Good thing he is at work most of the time, so you can at least enjoy this glamorous life every once in a while without wanting to bury yourself in a bottomless pit.

Another week, another one of those frivolous social events. But you have no choice but to accompany him to every single one of them. While acting as the leader of the Guild, Francis is also the head of the Fitzgerald cooperation, therefore this high society life has always been the norm for him. You, on the other hand, prefer lurking in the shades. All these shimmering lights, noisy parties, fancy dresses and high heels leave you either dazzled or vulnerable. You feel more like his nice accessory, a Christmas bauble than a wife. However, you know your obligations. Be his arm candy, smile, be obedient and not to speak unless spoken to. The alternative of obeying these absurdities is simply unthinkable. Merely the thought can make you feel chills on this warm summer afternoon.

It’s either this or absolute hell. No, that is not an exaggeration.

As an experienced assassin, you had prepared for death since you first signed up for the position. However, no one can bear the Order’s punishments. You know that too well, having witnessed it first-hand countless times.

At least you can live a carefree life with this option. With infuriating restrictions or not, you are still alive and maintain a certain degree of freedom. You should take this compared to an excruciating death any day. Plus you also get to live in extravagance, you cannot hate that for one bit. This rich man has spoiled you to no end, willing to fulfill even your most absurd requests as long as you are his darling wife. Let it be cars, clothes or jewelries, whatever you wish for, Francis would always make sure you got the finest of them. Not that is ever possible, but you could...get used to this.

However, you utterly despise this title, Lady Fitzgerald? No matter how much he pampers you or showers you with gifts, it would never make up for the fact that you only signed that marriage license under certain conditions. There are those sleepless nights, while you lay under silk quilts in his embrace in some exquisite mansion, you wish you were back in your humble Yokohama flat alone.

---a few months ago

Almost spilling your morning beverage due to running into one of your coworkers at the door, is surely a bad omen, but at the time you did not give it much thought. “Sorry, (y/n)-san. But there is an emergency.” Kirako Haruno?

Work has only just begun, and to your knowledge, there are no major events scheduled for today. Why is she in such a hurry?

Haruno is as terrified as if she just saw a bear in the middle of the street. Strange, since she is usually calm and collected.

“What has happened? Are you okay?”

“There are foreigners here, they are demanding an audience with the president. (y/n)-san, you can handle them, right? Please, keep them occupied while I notify the president.” Looks like this is your problem now since you speak better English compared to any other in the ADA.

She said it quickly without any pause. Also walked away before you had a chance to refuse, so Haruno missed how the colours suddenly drained from your visage and your horrid expression.

Oh, dear. Please do not let the foreigners be them… Although not many members of the Order recognizes you as you always don masks even at meetings, you still feel the world may have ended for you, as you wobble out of the office to the reception area with cold sweat. If Haruno had not hurried off, you would have found some excuse to get away from this troublesome situation. You should have called in sick today...

Are they speaking with American accents? Good gracious, you almost had a heart attack over this. You dealt with the Guild before, back when you were still in the Order when you still viewed Lady Christie as your older sister. She used to take you to negotiations meetings. You know how they are, so it should be a cakewalk to keep them occupied for at least a while. But...what if they identify you and report your whereabouts to the Order?! Would they be willing to do Christie this “favour”? The last time you checked, the two organizations were not on exactly friendly terms. So you should be fine as long as you act accordingly. Besides, the agency would not allow foreigners to harm one of their office clerks, precisely why you applied for a job ADA a year-and-a-half ago.

Get your act together, (y/n). Being this panicked is beneath you, everything will be alright as long as you conceal your fears.

Finishing on your diplomatic front preparation, you greet them with a professional attitude. “Welcome to the Armed Detective Agency, ladies and gentlemen of the Guild.” You try to talk in the calmest tone possible, without stutters. “Now if you would follow me, I shall prepare you some tea. The President will be ready for you shortly.” Now that you have a chance to observe them up close, you had to dig your nails into your palms, pressuring yourself to maintain composure. Why is the leader of the Guild here?! You had seen him before, there is no way you could mistake that arrogant blonde for anyone else. Even though you are pretty confident he would scarcely recognize you without a mask, that tiny possibility feels like a sharp blade pressing against your throat, ready to strike anytime.

Fitzgerald was not expecting someone who speaks flawless English to receive them. Not someone this cute, too. And here he thought this is just going to be like any other boring business discussion. But he cannot shake off this feeling of how he had seen your enchanting smile somewhere before. It was not easy to leave even a vague impression on the great Francis Scotts Fitzgerald, you must have been someone important. A business partner? A Government Official? Or perhaps a Socialite? You are someone with a high position, that he can be sure. But why would you Oh how he hates having blurry memories of something. As soon as he returns to the Guild base, Francis needs to look into their Database immediately.

“Earl Grey, imported from England. Would you like some refreshments as well?” Taking out a can of cream biscuits from your desk drawer, you are glad to see the redhead young girl nodding excitedly. You return a genuine smile to her before bending down to fetch the plate. You were not sure if you were just being oversensitive, but you felt a burning gaze on your back when you turned. Your assassin instincts were almost always accurate, could it be that Fitzgerald had remembered something?

“Is there something wrong, Miss? You are sweating so much.” You do appreciate the ginger girl’s kind words, but could she not say it out loud for her boss to hear? You were planning on keeping your panics to yourself. Moving unnoticeable further away from the Guild leader, you gulped nervously.

“My apologies. I am not feeling well this morning. Now, here’s your biscuits.”

“Aren’t they called cookies? They are truly delicious, thank you so much, Miss. I’m Lucy by the way.”

“In England, we call them biscuits. Would you like some more, Lucy? I have more if you’ll like it.” Her cheerful nature reminds you of a little sister, how could you say no to her pleading eyes. Unfortunately, this also made you forget how you are trying to remain incognito, and you let your hidden past out unintentionally.

England? That certainly rings a bell for the bright mind of Francis Fitzgerald. And no, he was not eavesdropping. You are talking to his employee, after all. Francis even forgot to scold Lucy about being a demanding guest on cookies because he was so deep in thought, searching for any clue of who you might be. He was about to recall something when you received the president’s notice about the meeting. “The President is ready now, this way please.”

After they entered the office, you realized how you had accidentally exposed yourself while explaining about biscuits. No, now all you can do is pray Fitzgerald was not listening in to that whimsical tea-time conversation. Your stomach suddenly feels queasy, a sign that maybe you should request to go home early. You surely do not want to face those calculating blue eyes again. Heck, you never trembled this badly, not even before the toughest missions.

He was planning on asking you some questions after that unsuccessful negotiation, but it would seem like you had taken a sick leave early.

You seem to be rather nervous around him. Suspicious.

Yet Francis cannot stop thinking about how you cared for Lucy. That consideration, if his little daughter is still around, she is bound to love you… It could just be professional kindness, but Francis had seen enough people to tell what is a facade or not. Zelda was like this too, in fact, it’s this admirable quality that had drawn him in the first place.

The great Fitzgerald had seen so many beautiful women, but your unparalleled warmth and grace outshine all appearances.

Wait, Francis had finally cleared the fog now. Aren’t you that girl with Agatha Christie, the head knight of the Order of the Clock Tower? No wonder you speak of England. He was so shocked when Christie introduced you as one of her finest knights. You were so friendly and lighthearted, how can you be that notorious master Assassin? It does not matter whether you had a mask on or not, he remembers those lovely (colour) eyes too well. He had found you to be alluring back then, but at that time he was too busy to concern himself with amorous feelings. Going through the guild files, he found that statement from Christie about how you had defected from the Order and a bounty for your whereabouts.

So, you are hiding from your former Organization? That is unfortunate. Francis had heard a word or two about how the Order is feared for its gruesome torture methods, how they still implement the old ways without mercy. You would rather work as a low-wage secretary then continue being one of their most esteemed Knights, something must have gone terribly wrong.

This is the perfect wager to let you, a kind, independent strong woman, bend to his will.

Now that he had thought about it, coming back home to a loving wife once again sounds more than wonderful. Having someone by his side forever, to love, to spoil, to have a family with had always been what he wanted. But fate has been cruel to Francis on this matter and had taken them away way too soon.

This time, he would make sure to do it right. Francis is determined not to let the tragedy repeat itself.

You were surprised by that clearly expensive gift box on your desk the next day you arrived at work. There is a letter attached to it? Your heart dropped when you saw the Guild's emblem embedded on the wax seal. What could they possibly want from you apart from...that?

“Dear Ms(y/n), Sir Francis S FitzGerald would like you to join him for dinner at (location). Please put on the dress in the box attached and be at (location) at seven p.m sharp.”

What a condescending letter. Not even a polite invitation, just saying he wants you there? You knew how this Fitzgerald is, that arrogant and greedy type, who would value money above conscience. Well, you still got some savings left, if that could shut him up you would not mind emptying your pockets.

You can never let her find you. Suicide before she did is a possible option, but you decided to save that as the last resort.

That is why you decided to put on that dress and go to meet him at this high-end western restaurant.

The hem of the dress is too short for your likings, but its sublime texture made you presume it costs a fortune. You cannot even recall when was the last time you had don such fine material. Life as a Knight major feels nothing more than a fever dream when Agatha was still your friend, your dear Commander.

What is Fitzgerlad’s intention of giving you such a scandalous dress? Is this some peculiar way to humiliate you? This is why you are better off acting as the blade, never as the tactician. Mind games were never your forte.

You are wearing that dress as Francis asked, good. He knew you would look gorgeous in it. It’s such a shame you always covered yourself up. Why wear those cheap, conservative trash when you can wear this?

Someone like you needs to be cherished, to be coddled. You do not belong in the shades or some little office.

“Mr. Fitzgerald. How may I help you today?” God, you feel almost naked in this piece of cloth, but you know you had to grin and bear it as he has the upper hand for now. “If this is about that business permit, I am not the one to make decisions.”

“Why, you are not going to thank me for the dress? You look absolutely breathtaking if you are wondering.” Crap, he is wearing a suit of a matching colour. Has he done this on purpose?

You blush a bit at Francis’s generous compliment, but you did not foreget why you are here.

“Please, do sit. And call me Francis, Miss.” Pulling the chair out for you, Francis smiled politely before signalling the waiters to bring out the appetizers. He is acting way too nice if all he wants is blackmailing you. You were expecting a simple, cold business trade, not...whatever this can be called.

“So, how is Lady Christie doing?” You put down the wine glass, sensing his malicious intent and narrowing your eyes. Of course, he knows, you should have expected this much from the leader of the Guild and an accomplished businessman. Lady Christie must have sent out wanted advertisements, too.

“If you know this much then you must know I am not a part of the Order anymore.” Just name the price already, then you can both go back to your respective businesses and forget your paths ever crossed.

Clever one, although Francis would expect anything less from someone like you. Not just anyone could be the Knight major of that Order after all. You sighed with frustration, clearly wanting to get this over with. “How much do you need? I still have a decent sum in my bank account.” It would probably be a large price, coming from this greedy man, but you are willing to pay for it as long as he stays silent.

You, trying to bribe him? How adorable. You must have been incredibly oblivious to not notice his intentions. Yes, normally a good check would silence Francis, but can’t you see he is not after your money here?

Instead of taking the pen, Francis shoved his smartphone in front of your face.

You turn paler when you figure out the contents. It was an email draft, a draft intended for your former Commander. It tells how the Guild is doing her a big favour by returning her astray Knight major to her proper place. Did he type out an email already? You can already feel those cold dungeon bars on your skin.

“Is money not enough? What exactly do you need?” Calm down, (y/n). If Francis did not send that email, it means negotiation is still possible. Just give him what he needs and be done with it.

To your shock, the blonde smiled smugly and said: “I want you to join the Guild.”

Join the Guild? “As an assassin?” Of course, he is after your ability. It was what made you a high ranking knight, no wonder he would want that for his organization.

“Not exactly. You see, I’m looking for a...personal bodyguard.” Hm, Francis is fond of the word “personal” in this context, it makes him feel like you are one of his possessions already.

“If you have any knowledge about my ability at all, you should know I am no good for frontal combat. With your status, fitting individuals would come running.” Is he toying with you? How despicable. Only a dastard would toy with someone’s mind, especially someone desperate.

Carefully taking your hand into his, feeling your soft skin and those light calluses on your fingers, Francis knows he has to do this the blunt way. You are such a fool when it comes to romantic relationships.

“Be my wife, you don’t need to worry about being discovered ever again. Christie cannot touch you as long as you are by my side. You can have whatever you want, just say the word. ”

This has to be a hallucination. Be his...wife? “Mr. Fitzgerald, have you got hit on the head earlier?” Feeling his forehead with the back of your hand: “You do not seem to have a fever. Are you feeling unwell?” Is he out of his mind? You, his wife? You are a dangerous assassin with a high headcount, not exactly wife material. No one sane wishes to be involved with you romantically, or so you thought.

He was not expecting such an eccentric reaction. Most women would be over the moon with the mere thought of becoming his mistress, not to mention an actual wife. Francis knows you are different, but this is out of his wildest predictions.

You are even harder to predict than the stock market of New York.

“This is a serious offer, love. Do you take my words as some jester’s joke?” He is not joking? Oh dear, you don’t want to marry this man. He did not even properly court you? And it is not like he is giving you a real choice either.

“What, are you going to refuse? That is fine, surely this email could bring a smile to Christie's face.” “No, please don’t send that email!”The way your pupils shrink suddenly gives him heartaches, but this is the necessary measure to make sure you are compliant. Francis had promised to spoil you, but sadly this is not a matter he can compromise with. He could make it up with gifts and attention later right? This life in exile is not fitting for a lady like you, so why don’t you let him take care of you? Don’t you understand what could happen to you had he not intervened?

That trembling little nod is all Francis needs for confirmation. As he brings your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, he swore silently to himself how he would never repeat his previous mistakes.

“Now, let us go ring shopping. Pick the biggest diamond one if you like, but make sure to select it out with a matching one.”

----Back to present

After the fitting appointment, you decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with some confectionary practices. You remember well how Francis’s face would lit up like a Christmas tree if he comes home to the smell of your bakings. It disgusts you how much he loves your docile mask, how you are his perfect housewife, his Mrs. Fitzgerald. This bastard do take pleasure in others pain.

Still, you must keep your “husband” happy. Humming your favourite melody in a pink apron, you try to imagine you are just doing this for only your own amusement, in your own house to make this more bearable.

Baking is one of the many hobbies you picked up after becoming Lady Fitzgerald. You could not work, neither as an assassin nor a secretary, as he is concerned about your “safety”: “Why should my lovely wife trouble herself with those headaches? You should spend your day doing whatever interests you, like painting or knitting! Tell me anytime if you need tutors.” Then Francis gave your head a few pats as if you are some cute puppy? You can never count how many screws he got loose.

What interests you? Well, stabbing Francis in his sleep could hardly count as a suitable hobby. Guess you’ll have to think of other ways to utilize those kitchen knives. Since he forbids you to train with weapons, you are stuck with those pathetic feminine leisure activities.

Placing the tray onto the preheated oven rack, you were cleaning up the mess from the process when two strong arms abruptly wrapped around your waist from behind. You knew exactly who it is since you had sensed his presence when he first set a foot into this ridiculously large kitchen. You also had to take deep breaths, reminding yourself why you shouldn’t just aim your fists at Francis’s nose then and there. These past few months with him had raised your resilience to an incredible level, you could tolerate his demanding physical affections without the urge to jump off a cliff now.

Curling your lips upwards, you push yourself to leave a light peck on the tall blonde man’s left cheek. That is mandatory, you had learned that on the first day here. “You’re home early.” The way you say those words is so sweet, even sweeter than those sugary treats in the oven. Even though you have to be careful, not letting the venom underneath slip out.

This is what Francis S. Fitzgerald longs to come home to, the love of his life after a day of gruelling meetings and other work. Once a renowned assassin, a second-in-command Knight in a Prestigious Royal Order, but now you are just his little housewife. He could never find a shinier trophy to demonstrate his power and influence. The haughty Blonde knows you have not entirely given up on the idea of escaping, still holding a grudge towards him, time will tell whether you accept your place or not. But that does not matter now, right now the Guild leader just wants to watch some brainless tv show on the sofa, with you on his lap to unwind, some Bordeaux would be nice too. He could handle all those business meetings if that means holding you to sleep every night. The sight of your smile makes it all worth it.

You belong to him now, his most prized possession, the crown jewel of Francis Fitzgerald’s collection.

And you have no say in the matter as long as you wish to stay in the land of the living.

It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving,

But like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

(Hey! Thank you for reading! Commetns and reblogs would be greately appreciated!)

#bsd #bsd francis fitzgerald #yandere bsd #yandere francis fizgerald #the guild bsd #bsd the guild #bsd fanfic #yancore #yandere x you

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

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When It’s Cold (2)

*Horny teens are horny. Mild smut mentions ahead.*

~~~

I laid in bed watching the lightning flash outside my windows as thunder shook the room and rain poured down. As a child a storm like this would have had me hiding under my covers. Tonight though I watched the storm, every inch of my body on alert with every crack of lightning and thunder. The doors to my room burst open with a roll of thunder. A shadowed figured stood in the hallway. My heart hammered fast as I tried to see through the darkness at my intruder. A flash of lightning illuminated the once dark room and I recognized the jagged line down my visitor’s face.

“Felix?” I sat up straighter. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to make sure you weren’t scared.” He prowled closer, a wicked grin on his face as he got to the foot of my bed. “You always were so scared of storms.”

“I was…” I murmured. He was dressed only in a pair of pants. That same chiseled torso I had gawked at earlier on full display.

He crawled onto the bed until he was hovering over me. “Do you want me to stay?” His voice purred in my ear, “I can keep you warm if it gets cold.”

“Yes please,” I let the robe around me fall from my shoulders leaving me exposed. “Keep me warm, Felix.”

“Gladly.” He swooped down upon me.

~~~

I woke with a start. My body was wound up tight and I was tangled in the blankets on my bed. I gazed around me confused before the previous day’s events caught up to me. It felt like a dream that Felix and I had found this mansion last night.

Felix…

The real dream came back to me with stark detail. What had that been all about? I’ve never had a dream like that before. I never have dreams in the first place. Even when I do they’re nothing like that and most certainly do not feature Felix. Yet he had been the epicenter.

Half naked with a devilish grin looking down at my own nude body. I had wanted him to--to--

I buried my face in my pillow. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gone to his room last night and saw him coming out of the bathroom. Why did I have to see that? Now I was having borderline erotic dreams about him. Oh screw borderline! I knew exactly what I had been hoping to happen and the aching between my legs only solidified it.

It’s not like I never found Felix ugly or anything. He was pleasant to look at. I dare say at times he was handsome but I never dwelled on it. Maybe a stray intrusive thought or two but they never went so far as my dream had. I couldn’t stop picturing it. Felix and I in bed, his large hands on my body, his lips caressing my skin…

I pressed my legs together as the image took root in my head. Maybe I deserve to indulge a little. For right now there is nothing to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Felix will ever know. My hand dipped between my legs as I let myself fall back into the dream. My body was extra sensitive since I hadn’t been able to indulge in this particular past time since Neverland. Not that I got to do it a whole lot there either. I swear there is absolutely no privacy on that island.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

And none here either it seems.

With a small whine I swung out of bed and pulled my robe in tight. I opened the door and Felix was waiting on the other side already dressed. Could it be considered poetic irony that the boy I had just a moment ago been masturbating to interrupted said masturbation?

“Did you just wake up?” Felix looked me up and down.

“Kinda. I figured I was allowed to sleep in. What do you want?” I stepped back and started collecting my clothes from the floor.

“Get dressed. I discovered something you’re gonna wanna see.”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“No. Now hurry up.” He closed the door and left.

With a sigh a pulled my clothes back on and followed Felix up a set of stairs to a hallway that led to a dead end. “This is what you wanted to show me? A wall with a picture on it?”

“Watch this,” He pulled the light fixture next to the painting and suddenly the wall came loose and rotated opening up a passageway into a whole new room.

“This place has secret rooms now. Very cool.” I stepped inside. “A library?” I looked at the books but there were no names on the spines. I pulled one off and flipped through it but all the pages were blank. “I will say I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Oh but it gets better.” Felix went over to the desk at the end of the room and pulled open the drawer. There was a button inside. He pressed it and a section of the floor popped up. I knelt down and opened the hatch and my eyes went wide. It was a safe!

I turned the latch and nearly cried at what I saw. Money. Just stacks and stacks of money! One less thing to worry about. We wouldn’t need to scrape by or get jobs. This safe could keep us comfortable for months! Years even!

“How did you find this?” I asked Felix.

“I like puzzles and I like to snoop.” He grinned pulling out a stack of hundreds. The band around it said ten thousand. Ten thousand dollars and there were easily a hundred or more just like it from what I could tell from the naked eye. We have someplace warm to sleep and we have money for food.

I started sniffling and I could sense Felix watching me befuddled. “Sorry, I just--” I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my eyes, “We’re going to survive the winter. We don’t have to be hungry or cold again.”

“I know,” Felix pulled a few hundreds from the stack and dropped the rest back in the safe. “Now how about we go do that grocery shopping you were so insistent on?”

“Yes!” I hopped to my feet. We put everything back in place and left the room. I found a pad of paper and started making a list of everything we would need. Unlike Felix who had spent so much time on Neverland that he couldn’t remember who he had been before being a Lost Boy , I did remember who I was. I remembered the responsibilities I had before Neverland. What was needed when I was made to go to market. The grocery store wasn’t like the open air markets I was used to but it was still the same general concept.

Felix and I got weird looks as we entered the store and I took one of the trollies. My first stop was to grab some toiletries. Toilet paper, shampoo, body wash, loofah, deodorant, toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss, and even a set of razors in case Felix wanted to shave. Next we grabbed laundry detergent, dish soap, paper towels, spray cleaner, trash bags, aluminum, and hangers. We would need to go to a different store for clothes. Lastly, food. Now, being the designated responsible person out of the two of us I know we couldn’t just indulge in the sweets and other delicious yet not necessarily healthy food for us.

I sped up and down the aisles with Felix trailing after me as I dumped stuff into the trolley. Chicken, beef, bacon, vegetables, fruits, a ten pound bag of potatoes, bread, milk, two dozen eggs, pasta, rice, butter, flour, sugar, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, vanilla, yeast (it’s been forever since I baked anything but I figured I could give it a try), orange juice, apple juice, cheese, canola oil, olive oil, and spices. Then came on the things I knew less about, peanut butter, chocolate chips, gummy candies, dressings, chips, ice cream, instant brownie mix, pizza rolls (they sounded good), cans of soup, yogurt, pancake/waffle mix, whipped cream, cereal, granola bars, pretzels, and tea bags.

Our trolley was overflowing with items as we wheeled our way over to the register. The man bagging our items looked at us strangely as we started unloading our groceries onto the counter. Several minutes and a trolley full of groceries later we were given our grand total. I was scared that we wouldn’t have enough but thankfully we did. We left the store and looked at our haul.

“Hey, Felix,” I paused as we were halfway through the parking lot, “How are we gonna get all this back to the mansion?”

“We steal the cart.” He said it like it was obvious. “Who is gonna stop us?”

“True.” We started out trip back to the mansion and pushed the trolley into the house. We spent the next several minute cramming things into cabinets and the icebox. I pushed the trolley back outside and went to put my toiletries away while Felix took the laundry items down to the basement. I would also need to learn how to use the electronic washers they had here if I wanted clean clothes.

Speaking of clean clothes, “Felix!” I shouted down the steps, “We’re not done yet today. We need to go clothes shopping.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t bring any extra sets of clothes with me when we left Neverland and I’m sick of wearing these dirty rags. Now get a move on!”

Felix came upstairs with a scowl. “Don’t pout. Even if we kept these clothes clean they stand out too much. I think it’s part of the reason everyone glares at us. We’ll arise less suspicion if we blend in. Especially since our mission is to find a way out of here and back to Neverland.”

“Fine.” Felix grumbled. He counted the remaining money in his pocket. “Let me grab a few more bills from the library just to be safe.”

My stomach grumbled and I decided to grab a granola bar to settle my stomach while I waited for Felix. This house was so strange. They didn’t have any dish soap but they had pots and pans. No shampoo but they had combs. Not a lick of food but a cabinet dedicated to what looked like a very fragile table set.

Felix came back a few hundred dollars richer and we made our way back into town for the second time that day. The clothes store was emptier than the grocery store which put me more at ease. Felix and I went our separate ways as I perused around the racks and racks of clothing. I grabbed a few shirts, pajamas, sweatshirts, sweat pants, underwear, socks, gloves, a scarf, hat, a thick jacket, a new pair of boots, and a large messenger bag. When I went to try on some pants though I was thoroughly disappointed. They fit fine but the pockets on them were tiny! I could barely get my hand in them. Was this what pants were like here? Why?!

I went over to the men’s section and found Felix also trying on some new clothes. It was a simple black t-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans but it looked really good on him. He almost looked less foreboding. Maybe that was just due to the fact that he didn’t have his cloak hood up like usual.

“You look mad,” Felix chuckled upon seeing me stomp up to him.

“I am! Look at this.” I squeezed a few of my fingers into my jeans pocket. “These pants have absolutely no room! Are yours like this as well?”

“Mine?” he stuck his entire hand in his pocket up to the middle of his forearm. “Nope.”

“What the hell?” I stuck my hand in his other pocket. These were so much roomier than mine! “Why are these better than the ones in my section?”

“I don’t know,” Felix pulled my hand out of his pocket, his face was red with anger again and he wouldn’t look me in the eye, “You can stop invading my personal space though.”

“Oops, sorry.” I snatched my hand back to my chest. What had I been thinking? I essentially stuck my hand down his pants and for what? Because I was jealous of the size of his pockets? I grabbed a few pants from his section that looked to be my size and raced back to the dressing rooms in my section. These fit just as well as the ones I was wearing now but the pockets were much roomier so I chucked the others away and got the men’s pants.

Felix met me at the registers when he was done browsing. He still wasn’t looking at me. I think I made things between us really uncomfortable. We paid for the clothes but had no trolley this time so had to carry everything in large bags back to the mansion. After we got back Felix disappeared into his room. I changed into a pair of the comfy new clothes I bought and went downstairs to make myself something to eat.

I heated a can of soup up and sat down to eat. I wasn’t in the mood to be so adventurous as to make a full blown meal. Now that we had all the essentials Felix and I could start our search for a way back to Neverland in earnest.

I didn��t see Felix for the rest of the night. Figures he wouldn’t want to be around me after we spent all day together. I drew myself another hot bath and this time was able to actually wash myself with the soap and shampoo we had bought. I felt truly clean for the first time in a long time as I slid on the pajamas I bought and crawled back into bed.

Rain pattered outside and I was reminded of my dream from this morning. A part of me dreading and hoping that I would have another just like it.

~~~

Fucking hell! You were killing him! You had to be trying to kill him! That’s what Felix concluded as he locked himself in the master bedroom of the mansion.

Ever since Felix had let himself be talked into going to Storybrooke with you he had been forced by your side. You were the only Lost One in Storybrooke still loyal to Pan when all the others had run off to find families for themselves. He told himself he was tagging along instead of staying in Neverland to enact revenge on those that murdered Pan but that was only half of the story.

He should have never followed you though. Revenge aside. It hadn’t worked out anyway. Even after he learned that Pan was still alive, albeit in someone else’s body, it wasn’t enough. Pan died anyway before he got to enact the curse that would have turned this worthless town into a new Neverland. Now everyone was happy and safe and you and Felix were both very much stranded.

Finding this mansion had been a sweet turn of luck. He knew you were right when you mentioned needing a better place to stay over winter. Felix didn’t like the cold either but he could tolerate it better than you. Every night since you two got here you would shiver the night away at your camp. The night before it had been so cold that even Felix was cursing the wind. While he shivered though he glanced across the fire pit at you. You were huddled in so tight to yourself. Teeth chattering and body convulsing.

He was glad that you didn’t make any mention of him giving you his cloak as an extra form of warmth that night. He didn’t want to try explaining why he had done it. Terrible complicated feelings that he refused to acknowledge. He pushed them down hard, stomped them into dust so they could never rear their ugly head again.

Then he had gotten out of the bath. Truly clean for the first time in years he had left the bathroom and all those complicated feelings from before shot to the surface at the scene laid out before him. You knelt on the ground with only a towel barely covering you. Your wet hair leaving drops of water rolling down your shoulders and back.

His jaw clenched and he fumbled to maintain some composure as you explained what you were doing practically naked in his room. He had found the robe in the master bathroom and was planning on wearing it to bed himself but when he caught sight of you he was only too happy to chuck it into your arms. He needed you to cover up. He needed you clothed and out of his room that instant!

He was far from relaxed after you had left that night. The sight of you knelt over, the towel just barely covering your ass was burned into his brain. He ignored the stirring under his towel and dove into the large bed. He tossed and turned most of the night trying to rid the image and the thoughts he was having. His mind betrayed him though as it brought him much more vivid fantasies of you on his bed wearing nothing at all and beckoning him to take you.

He woke soon after breathing hard and his hand around his cock. Felix cursed the fact that he had a lewd dream about you of all people. He tried to ignore the images flashing in his head but when he closed his eyes there you were on all fours again with a teasing smile. He jumped into the bathroom and turned on the shower hoping a cold jolt would snap him back to sense but then he was thinking of you in this shower with him. Water rolling down your body, that same teasing smile and sultry voice begging him to take you against the wall.

For a few minutes he swallowed his embarrassment and let the fantasy play out fucking into his fist and pretending it was you squeezing around him instead. He thought of your moans and whimpers egging him on. Begging him to be harder, faster, rougher. He bit his lip to keep from shouting as he finally spent himself and started coming down from his high.

He felt more relaxed afterwards but the release of tension didn’t make him feel better knowing he had masturbated to you. You were his...friend? You two had never been friends before coming to Storybrooke and he doubted that you two were that now. Whatever you were to him he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. You both wanted to get back to Neverland and having obscene fantasies of you was not the way to go about that.

It was still fairly early but he was too wound up to go back to bed. So he got dressed and went exploring throughout the mansion. That’s how he had found the secret library full of blank books and that secret vault under the floorboards. He put everything back in place before racing to wake you up and show you. He had almost forgotten about his dream until you opened the door and he was met with your sleepy face and bedhead. Had you always been this attractive or was it just the layers of dirt that had gotten washed away last night that made you much more appealing to him suddenly? He decided not to dwell on why he was having these thoughts and instead took you down to see the stash of money he had found.

You were so giddy at the knowledge that you could actually have a roof over your head and food in your belly that he found himself smiling too. Your smile was so infectious. He let you take the lead when you went shopping. He didn’t recognize half the stuff he saw in that store but trusted your judgement when you dropped something in the cart.

Then there was when you went to go clothes shopping. Felix wouldn’t admit that he was getting a little worn out of his Neverland attire. It was functional but that was all he could say about it. The smell of it after he had gotten out of the bath the night before almost made him gag. Perhaps this was the reason no one wanted you or him around. You both reeked of years of living in a jungle.

You two were on totally opposite ends of the clothing store so Felix thought he was safe until you came charging into his dressing room ranting about the tiny pockets on your pants. The tight fitted pants that hugged your legs and ass perfectly. Then when you unceremoniously stuffed your hand down his pocket to see how deep they were it took all his self control and thoughts of rotting animal carcasses to not pop an erection right there in the store.

You were trying to make him burst a blood vessel and you didn’t even seem to notice! Which is why he was back in his room sitting on his bed hungry and horny. He was waiting until after he was sure you had gone to bed to get some food. He really didn’t want to chance running into you again and risk those impure thoughts bubbling to the surface once more.

Hopefully today had just been a spoof and tomorrow all these strange new thoughts and feelings would be gone. You two had a mission after all. Get back to Neverland. Lust wasn’t going to help that mission.

---

(Previous) (Next)

#felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat felix #ouat #neverland #peter pan ouat #roommate au #felix's pov is in 2nd person

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

Two Little Lines

Let’s just keep playing around with the pregnancy/baby theme, shall we? 😂😈 it’s going to be on the fluffier side, however, we are gonna sprinkle in some very mild NSFW. And we got real angsty with Kenma and we’re just gonna make em all real long. Sorry this took me a few days to do!

Kenma;

Let’s be honest, Kenma would be the cautious one that would more so plan for pregnancy.

Life’s going great for Kenma—great job, cushy life, hot wife??? How did he get so lucky?

Cause he’s cute af that’s how

He was finally ready to add another player to the party.

However, life can’t always be perfect and apparently neither can the two of you trying for a baby.

For the last year and a half now, Friday nights were your thing. No streaming, no work, no phone calls. You and Kenma—that’s it. And while he definitely had become very explorative in that time, every negative pregnancy test was wearing his drive down.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that Kenma isn’t a fan of going to the doctor, even to check on how his little swimmers are doing. “If it’s not meant to be, we’ll find another way.” But you could tell it was breaking his heart a little bit.

Frisky Friday’s became fragile Friday’s, in which the two of you really just cuddled in bed together, fireplace lit, and talked about hopeful dreams of finally having a child together, until one of you hopefully got in the mood.

Shit, this whole ordeal was even making your marriage rough. Kenma had been so hard on himself lately that he could barely look at you, which caused you to start to feel insecure, causing the both of you to fight.

It’s Friday night. No streaming, no work, and no phone calls. That was how it was supposed to be. But instead, Kenma is naked in bed atop the comforter, playing with his switch.

It’s pissing you off.

“I don’t know what you wanna do anymore, Kenma. Do you even want a family? Do you even want to be with me anymore?”

“Why would you even say that?” It’s Friday night. The two of you are supposed to be hanging out in bed, naked and just being together, not picking fights with each other. But since that seems to be the case, you see Kenma flush with anger.

“Maybe because you’re playing Animal Crossing instead of looking at me??” Your husband sighs before putting his switch on the night stand before taking down the loose knot that his hair typically resides in. He’s anxious. “You’re acting like I’m not upset about this too.”

As you’re talking to him, you cautiously clamber over him, your face filled with raw emotion. And, after being married for the better half of a decade, you can see what he’s feeling. Failure, distress, and pain were only the start of it. “Please, Kenma. One more time, and we’ll start looking at other options.”

Apparently one more time was all it took, according to the three pregnancy tests you’d taken a month later. Seeing those two little lines on one of the tests that your husband had bought in bulk sent your heart into palpitations. You were going to be a mom.

Kenma comes home from work that Friday—you decided to surprise him. “What do you want to do tonight Kenma?”

??? “Honey, it’s Friday. Don’t we usually...” he stops. Either you were giving up on trying, which you two would have discussed, or... “wait, you don’t mean...”

Holding up the positive pregnancy test, you begin to cry. Kenma does too.

“Baby Kozume has joined the party.”

Kuroo;

Only the two of you would get pregnant while having an IUD implant. Literally, that was just your luck. But it was still possible.

Which you had yet to tell Kuroo—at the moment you were thankful the two of you weren’t cohabitating yet because you were able to hide your unbearable morning sickness.

You were at least waiting to see your doctor to have your IUD removed before telling him, mostly out of fear but also because, if he did notice your morning sickness, you could pawn it off as symptoms of the removal.

You hoped that this wouldn’t take too long or as be as painful as it was going in, but then again you were going to be pushing a human out in nearly 8 months.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon; Kuroo has already finished classes for the day while you’re still out at your appointment. He did have a key to your appointment, but it was strange that you weren’t home considering you didn’t have classes.

He wasn’t gonna call you out on it though—Kuroo trusted you. Instead, he opted to just rummaging around your apartment, cleaning up dishes that were left standing in the sink and making lunch for the two of you.

The minute you walked through your door, the smell of his cooking wafted through the air and absolutely did not agree with you or the baby’s sense of smell. “Fuck,” you grit out before bolting to the bathroom to hurl.

??? = Kuroo.

“Babe? You okay?” Your response was more vomiting, which was apparent both by sound and by visual—you hadn’t even closed the door to the bathroom and Kuroo got to witness the scene clear as day.

In comfort, Kuroo rubs your lower back in an attempt to coax the remaining bile from your body. Disturbing, was the only way Kuroo could describe it, considering you rarely ever puked. In the last six years of dating, he’s only seen it once while you drunk.

When the nausea finally passed, Kuroo cleaned your face up with a warm rag before sitting you on his knee while he sat at the edge of the tub. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“That, actually.”

“What?” Kuroo’s a smart guy, however it took him a few minutes to decipher your two word puzzle. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, I was gonna tell you today, actually. I just had to go get my IUD removed.” For a moment he’s stunned—the IUD was supposed to be nearly foolproof. But nearly is the key word.

“Babe, you’re pregnant! Holy shit, I gotta call Kenma and Bo and tell them they’re gonna be uncles!” 💀💀💀

“Sooo, you’re okay with it...?” After all, there was a reason you had chosen to go with an IUD after your guys’ last pregnancy scare two years ago.

After all, being a freshman in college wasn’t necessarily an ideal time to start a family.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He balks.

“Because we’re college students that still have another year to graduate?” You deadpan as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“And? Now we’re gonna be married college graduates with little baby Kuroo.” M a r r i e d?

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, Tetsu.”

“What, you don’t wanna marry me?” For a minute, his face contorts with...confusion? Sadness? Anger? A myriad of all the above? “I’ve wanted to marry you since high school.”

“Is this a proposal?”

“The rings been in my gym bag since senior year.”

Akaashi;

Akaashi Keiji, contrary to popular opinion, was a real romantic.

Even as college students, while your focus should be on your studies, Akaashi never slacked on making you feel special and loved. He knew it, you knew it, and your poor neighbors that shared the wall between your bedrooms knew it.

Kinda made it awkward when the two of you would leave for class and you’d meet your neighbors’ eyes in the apartment hallway. But ya know, it is what it is.

Honestly, it’s too challenging not to go at it every day when your boyfriend is the sweetest, most endearing human to walk the planet.

But enough gushing about Akaashi. Four years into your relationship, you had never felt so off in your life. The last three weeks, all you wanted to do was sleep and eat, you couldn’t focus on anything at all. You couldn’t even have sex with Akaashi.

You know, your wonderful partner that you literally boned everyday? Yeah.

It felt like a permanent, three week PMS for a period that never came. Not that that was entirely abnormal for you—intense amounts of stress can throw off your menstrual cycle and stress was certainly no stranger to you.

But no. You knew your body and you knew it well. Something was wrong.

Just in case things went awry, you scheduled a doctor’s appointment with Keiji’s knowledge. After all, it could very well be nothing and there was no point in causing your man to worry.

“Miss, were you aware that you’re nearly six weeks pregnant?” 💀💀💀 obviously not, doc.

Not entirely convinced, whether because you’re a tad dense or because you really just don’t want to believe the doctor, you swing by a local drug store to grab a test. Just in case, like somehow the doctor would be wrong.

Thankfully, you get home before Akaashi is back from work for the evening, giving you the privacy of seeing your results with your own eyes. Even though you literally could go look at the results and notes from your doctors visit, but ya know.

You don’t even know how long you sat on the floor of your shared bathroom, just staring at the two little lines. You didn’t even realize Akaashi came home.

He calls your name, at first not necessarily concerned that the only light in the apartment was peeking from under the bathroom door. But with no answer, he calls out your name again. No answer. “Honey, is it okay if I come in?”

“Y-yeah?” You aren’t really sure how to answer. How the hell was Akaashi going to react? You guys didn’t have time for a kid?? You’re completely zoned out, staring blankly at the bathtub in front of you. Lowkey, you’re freaking out Akaashi.

Even more so when he sees your hand loosely cradling the pregnancy test—judging by your reaction, he knows what the result is. But he can’t think of anything to say, what is there even to say?

He’s not upset, no. Shocked? Obviously. Mad, not at all considering he’s just as much responsible. The “R” word is what triggers him.

Responsible, in the sense that in less than a year, the two of you were going to be parents. It swelled joy within him. While the two of still had yet to speak, Akaashi comes to your side, sliding down the wall to sit beside you before wrapping his arms around you.

“So, are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

vernon; blossomed (m)

feat. tattoo artist!vern x flower shop fem!reader based on nonnie’s big brain

genre/warnings: flangst, lang, wild generalizations of how tattooing works, gratuitous love for side characters, mild drinking, phineas and ferb references, mild foreplay

word count: 12k

Vernon called you his Rose.

Not exactly his Rose, because you were definitely not anyone’s property and he wanted to give you nothing but your full autonomy, but it’s because he’s never had the chance to ask for your real name.

But when he first spotted you in the little lavender and honey colored flower shop across the street, you were tending to the rose bushes at the front entrance. You were cutting roses and you didn’t look utterly graceful, in fact you stabbed yourself more than once with the thorns. He couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed when your co-worker had to hand you a new bandage every minute.

He decided then that he liked you, even if it’s not wholly sexual or romantic, he liked you.

Or maybe he just liked the idea of you, the way you’d lounge around in the canopy swing with your boots tucked under the seat, fluffy yellow socks wiggling out in the sun. Sometimes you’d read a book, sometimes for well over an hour. He liked how you soaked up the heat and created your own little world, happily unproductive.

It was only a seven meter walk from the flower shop to the tattoo parlor, but the view from his front window required zero walking distance and a sure-fire lack of ever bumping into you.

“Vernie’s got a crush on the Flower Girl,” Yoongi sing-songed, chugging along a box full of random-ass materials that Vernon was supposed to clean in the morning.

Vernon scowled, and swatted away the older one’s hand when it dived in front of his face.

Yoongi whistled like he was an old-time animation, singing the day away. “Vernie’s stalking his crush.”

“I’m not stalking,” Vernon snapped, swiveling around in his rolling chair. “that involves shit like literally following her around, photography, I dunno, being a weirdo?”

“You definitely qualify for one of those.” Yoongi replied tartly, and he fought the urge to grin when Vernon finally turned back to the window, only to narrowly miss your form. The swing was now unoccupied, the only thing remnant were your working boots lined up against the entrance. “It’s been what, two weeks? Just ask her out already.”

“You think I would’ve done that by now if there wasn’t a reason why?“

Soooo you were dating someone. Some super tall, super handsome guy would stroll up to the flower shop every morning, coffee in hand. Before you’d take your proffered coffee, he’d pucker his lips for a good-morning kiss in repayment. Vernon looked back to Yoongi, who was staring right back at him and confirming his suspicions that yes he was being a fucking weirdo for paying attention to things like that.

Yoongi pressed his lips together, puffing his cheeks out in slight irritation. “So you’re stalking a taken girl,” he whistled lowly, “should I regret hiring you?”

“Not funny.”

“As repayment for effectively creeping me out,” The older one slipped his hand into his electric yellow windbreaker to twirl Vernon a ring of keys. “You’re closin’ up for tonight.”

The brunette’s jaw dropped to his lap, and he got up from his spot by the window. “What? What happened to Minghao?”

“Sick,” Yoongi shrugged.

Closing up meant that Vernon had to stay until 12AM, at the very least. The area was off a college town and that meant a lot of young lucrative artists would stop by pretty late, hence the closing time. Usually Yoongi and Minghao were the night owls, but tonight Minghao was supposed to fly solo because Yoongi landed a last-minute recording gig. “C’mon, can I at least close early?” Vernon whined, “it’s summer. No one’s here.”

“What, ya gotta date or something?” Yoongi smirked, swinging the entrance open. Halfway out the door, he added loftily, “don’t forget to water Patricia. It’s been two weeks.”

The door slammed and Vernon was left alone. He spared a glance at the window, only to see that your boots were now gone from the patio and only one light was on in the shop. Vernon turned to his company for the night, their jade succulent, aptly named Patricia Planty.

With Patricia Planty watered and a stomach full of Wendy’s nuggets in his body, Vernon busied himself up for a grueling five hours. Thankfully he brought in his laptop, as if he were expecting Yoongi to pull a fast one on him tonight. He drew some random things on his tablet: rockets, stars, the occasional squirrel, and roses. When he was tired of drawing, he’d blast the speakers off the joint and mess around with some of his music programming. When he was tired of doing both, he’d vegetate on the couch and read Reddit articles.

It was past eleven when the first customer of the night stumbled in. Vernon fought the urge to groan, putting down the pen of his tablet on a particularly intricate constellation.

“We’re closed!” He yelled through the office door. A white lie, but who would know?

“Google said you were open until 12!” A voice yelled back, sounding slightly strained.

Crap. Vernon lowered the volume and pushed away the swivel chair, swinging the office door open. With a rough clear of his throat and hoping not to look like too much of a jerk, he faced his customer, “Welcome to Nu ABO—”

It was you. Cheeks ruddied, and your eyes glassed with a fresh glaze of tears. Your lower lip worried into a wobbly frown. Vernon’s Reebok’s glued to the concrete of the parlor, effectively stopping him in his tracks. The smell of mulch and a mixture of flowers penetrated his nostrils, but it did nothing to distract the utter hurt etched on your face.

“Um, hey,” his voice was gentle, yet unsure. “What are you doing here?”

You just looked at him, incredulous. Vernon could have sworn he saw your left eyebrow twitch. Of course, you’ve never met him in your entire life, yet Vernon felt like he knew you since the beginning of your summer work. “Gettin’ a tattoo.” You replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, rubbing away a stray tear.

He didn’t want to say it, but Vernon sighed and reasoned, “But it’s just that, ya kinda look—”

You brushed past him, going straight into the artist room and plopping on the worn leather chair meant for customers. It was still high up because Vernon was cleaning the underside of the metal, so you had to do a little hop to get on. “I don’t care what kind of design. I looked up your Yelp online and everything looked pretty good.” And you then proceeded to unbutton the top of your blouse.

“Holy shit,” he bounded over to you, grappling his fingers between your shirt before you could undo the rest of it. His breath was probably hot and heavy, compared to yours which was fresh from the cool summer air. Your faces were so close, closer than he ever fathomed. He didn’t think you two would meet this early in the year, as he was emotionally preparing to visit your flower shop at the end of the month, making up some spiel on how he needed to purchase real roses to replicate a commission. Not now. Now was a spontaneous episode, where he was trying to refasten your shirt and ignore the petal pink lace of your bra baiting his eyes.

When he sensed that you would in fact, stop taking your shirt off, he backed up. “It’s just that, after eleven we don’t really apply tattoos. We just take consultations.” He tried to sound defeated, rubbing the back of his neck. Again, another lie. But Vernon wasn’t about to ink you on the spot, especially when you looked like this.

“Is it because I’m upset?” You cried, “because I assure you, I’m in the right mind!”

He winced, lolling his head back and forth. “That’s debatable.”

You frowned, “C’mon, I have money. Just do me this one solid.”

“What? No, you don’t even know what you want!” Vernon was exasperated. Not that he imagined the first time meeting you would be a walk in the park, but at the same time he wasn’t expecting to argue with you.

"Don’t you want to be part of my spontaneous young life? Give me a tattoo that I’ll think about with my children 30 years from now?” He would laugh if you didn’t look like you were crying a river ten minutes ago. “As long as it’s not a tramp stamp, because I don’t think I can pull that off—"

"Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?” Vernon blurted out before he could regret it.

Your face morphed into something Vernon couldn’t understand. Pain, for sure. But a sort of relief knowing that you didn’t have to hide it. “Damn,” you give him a tired smile, “does the whole town know or something?"

You cried again. This time, Vernon reacted quicker. Pulling out a Wendy’s napkin from his flannel pocket, he proffered it to you. He was thankful you didn’t question whether it was clean or not (it was!) and you proceeded to cover your snot and tears all over it.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

You sniffled and blew a particularly large chunk of snot before you shook your head.

"Do you… want fries?” He gestured to the small table in the room, which had some leftover fries from his combo. “I can heat ‘em up in the microwave."

Due to the fact that you ran out of tissue room, you rubbed your face with the entirety of your sleeve. You peeked out mid-rub, and replied with a soft, "hell yeah I do."

His heart twitched. Even betwixt your teary expression, you were so freakin’ cute. He shuffled back to the office, nuking the leftovers in the microwave until they were piping hot. Vernon waited a bit for them to get cool, and fiddled with the music so a soft R&B playlist bounced off the walls. He couldn’t believe you were here. Scratch that, he could, because you were bound to run into him one day due to pure proximity.

But he didn’t imagine you’d be plopped in his artist room at 11:32, bleary eyed and shoving potatoes in your mouth.

Vernon busied himself with his phone, and typed a hasty you wouldn’t believe what just happened… to the employee group chat.

[June 11, 11:33PM]

Bo$$ man: dont tell me u put aluminum in the microwave AGAIN

Hao hao: the chinese mafia came for me, didnt they? good thing I called out

Jeonghan is a prick: use your resources! sharp items are everywhere :) emergency money is under Patricia’s table

Bernie: tf is wrong w all of you

Bernie: SHES HEREEEEEE

"M'sorry,” you mumbled with a mouthful of fries, breaking Vernon from his mid-text crisis. He felt his phone buzzing like hell as he shoved it in his pocket, but ignored it for the sake of you. Your previous high of emotions has long worn off, and now you were looking a little embarrassed as you fixed your gaze on the empty container of fries. Your face is blotchy and red, and you’re especially puffy due to the salt you just consumed. “I should go home."

He didn’t want to be intrusive, but the look on your face showed it was clear that you didn’t want to go home just yet. Drumming his fingers against the metal table, he casually suggested, "Why don’t I do your back?"

You looked at him like he was crazy. "You still wanna tattoo me? After I cried like an idiot and ate your fries?"

"You’re not an idiot for being upset. And I offered you my fries.” He pulled out an ink canister, and a thin needle. “This is temporary ink we use to practice, or for customers who wanna test out the look. Lasts one to two weeks. And y'know, it’s a nice distraction."

You looked skeptical, unsure of his kindness. "Why my back?"

He shrugged, "It’s the biggest canvas. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to look at it."

Still, you’re not convinced. There was something strange about him, something almost too sweet. While your schema may be marred by television and movies, the man in front of you didn’t seem like he quite fit into this little shack. He’s full of color, in his eyes and in his stature, his words clean and pure as he tries to soothe your aching heart. And as much as you tried not to check him out, you spotted no tattoos on any viewable part of his body.

"And it’s kind of cathartic, really.” He watched your lips quirk up in a smile at the word usage. Not only sweet, but probably smart. Your first smile all night. Cheeks effortlessly heated, he continued, “you kinda just let go into the feeling. And it’s always fun to not know what’s been drawn until the very end."

You’re curious. There’s excitement in your vision as he gestured to the available cot, inviting you. "Alright. Ink me up."

Vernon grinned, and started preparing the workspace. Handing you a medical gown, he quickly shuffled away to prepare the ink and needles. He didn’t really work with the clients as deeply as this, he was really just a glorified secretary that took care of the consultation. While he washed his hands, he heard the faint rustle of fabric, definitely your shirt and bra. He turned up the temperature of the water, acutely aware of how hot his hands were getting.

"Um,” your voice is muffled from being pressed up against the cot, your face presumably propped with pillows. “So are you Yoongi?"

"Nah, I’m Vernon.” He wheeled over a cart full of supplies, the metal clanging against the concrete. “’M usually the guy who wipes the sweat off his brow."

You hummed your own name in response, resting your cheek in the plushness of the cotton pillow. There’s a number of sounds paired with the R&B in the background. The smack of Vernon putting on gloves, the click of the needles and the slickness of the balm Vernon has applied on your back. His touch was warm, as his palm crescents across your back to soothe the balm into your skin. He then wiped it down with a paper towel until your skin was smooth and dry.

"Any ideas yet?” He asked, and from the corner of your eye you see him switch out a needle for a new ink pen.

“Maybe, stars?” Your voice is muffled against the cushions, as you’re hugging them close to your body. “And maybe something inspired by Spiderman? I liked that new one with Miles, he’s a cool one."

You could hear the smile in his voice, "I liked that one, too."

You stuff your own smile in your pillow, how embarrassing could it be that this stranger can make you feel better so fast? Mingyu would be groveling if he saw you now, topless, letting a man ink you up in however way he wished. "Will it hurt?"

He chuckled at that, "Nah. The ink will sit on top and sink in, I barely have to apply any pressure. Just relax."

Under the discretion of Vernon, who offered you fries and liked Spiderman, you relaxed. The first stroke of the needle and you were a goner. You closed your eyes and let him do his thing, You couldn’t tell what exactly was going on through his mind as he was painting your back, but you could tell his art was rather cacophonous: stiff pokes here and there, smooth strokes, and wide breaths of ink staining your back. The ink melted into your skin, bonding to your cells under Vernon’s careful control.

It was almost 1AM when he finished. He tapped your back, urging you up. Tired, and slightly dazed, you sat up. You realized a little too late that you’re only wearing a thin hospital gown, the straps having fallen midway through the process. The air was cool against your skin.

Vernon totally would’ve gotten a complete view of your sideboob if he wasn’t blushing like a maniac and looking away, and you respected that. His arm is punched out, fisting your button down. You hastily snatched it away, and turned around in order to look decent.

“The ink won’t show up fully for another six hours, so until then let me know how you like it.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled gratefully as you do the last button of your blouse, and pulled out your phone. “Do you accept Venmo or Cashapp?”

“Oh, yeah.” He accepted the proffered device, and put in the necessary charges.

Once he gave back your phone, you added a sizable tip to the price he typed up. “The time really flew by,” you noted the time on the corner of your phone, 1:07. “It was really, an experience like you said.”

He shrugged, and threw you an easy smile. “I try.”

"Can I get a real tattoo from you someday? Y'know, when I’m ready?"

"Ah, no. I’m not really under the apprenticeship.” He looked bashful when he said it, as if he were caught doing something wrong. “I just work here for the part time money. I do art on the side, though.”

You had the urge to ask what he doesn’t do on the side, but it was late and you were probably holding up the poor guy for your trivial questions. “Regardless, I’m still thankful it was you that did this for me.”

In three strides, he opened the small door for you. “My pleasure. Have a good night. Or, morning. Or if you’re one of those people who don’t consider it morning unless it’s light out, then good night?”

“Good night,” you giggled, “get home safely.”

“You too.”

The screen door slammed shut behind you, along with the main door. Your car is parked in the grass patching of the flower shop. You jogged over, and the summer air made you shiver, your back still raw and warm under Vernon’s touch.

You couldn’t wait until the flower shop closed.

If Wonwoo noticed that you moved the porch swing relative to the placement of Nu ABO, he hasn’t brought it up. You weren’t spying on Vernon, no. But your skin was starting to itch with curiosity and in your haste to leave last night, you didn’t even ask what he designed on your back.

“Are you stalking the tattoo guy?”

Despite the voice being petal soft, you flinched. Assistant Manager Joshua Hong with a bouquet of boat lilies, was accusing you of stalking. His Converse tapped rhythmically against the wood paneling, looking down at you like a guilty child.

“What?” you floundered, waving around the florist magazine in your hands. “Josh, I’m studying! And the sun was in my face so I moved the swing.”

“You’re studying,” Joshua flickered his eyes to the run down shack across the road. “The tattoo guy?”

“I already said I wasn’t!”

“Then you’re telling me you spent all last night doing that,” he reached over to tug at your starched work collar, “all by yourself?”

Your hand flew to your neck, as if you were trying to hide Vernon’s hard work. “I just wanna see what he did, all right? And I’m trying to be very patient until closing because if Wonwoo sees me going there,” you jerked a head none-too-gracefully at the direction of the parlor, “he’s gonna tell you-know-who.”

Joshua frowned, because he already knew. After all, he stayed in the back room with you all last night, wiping away your tears. “Well, whoever did it is truly an artist,” he said genuinely, “it’s beautiful.”

Joshua finally left you alone, and you suddenly felt emptier than before. Sure, the breakup with Mingyu was conventionally bad, but why were you so conflicted with your feelings? You didn’t want Mingyu to know you were hanging out with other guys, but you wanted to let go of him. Maybe you were trying too hard too fast.

But Vernon made everything so, so easy.

No, you are not letting him be a rebound. The inner conflict in your head was giving you a massive headache, you couldn’t tell if the vibes you were feeling last night were because of the recent breakup or just an authentic spark.

The storm door shuttered boldly, and you jumped. Wonwoo stepped out, and gave you a weird look. “You alright?”

“Me? Yeah, fine.” You gripped the collar of your shirt and pretended to fasten the buttons.

He was unconvinced, either that or the pinched look he was sporting was an indicator of a bad day. “Listen, I know things are gonna be weird because my best friend is your, y’know,” he trailed off, painfully trudging through this conversation as easily as trudging through quicksand. “He’s gonna stop by a couple more times during the week, doing me a few errands. So if you wanna take the week off, recalibrate before the the month ends, just let me know. ”

“Won, please,” you wanted this to end, “we don’t have to talk about this, alright?”

He awkwardly twirled around his car keys. “Alright.” As simple as that, he threw himself in his sedan and drove off, dirt brushing the pavement.

You glared at the dust cloud until his car was far from your sights, the mustard color blinding your vision. “Honestly,” you said to yourself, finally hopping off your swing into the direction of the shack, “he thinks I’m five and never experienced heartbreak.”

“Welcome to Nu ABO!” this voice was different, and you slowed your steps. It doesn’t quite have the husk that Vernon’s voice held, but definitely matched the energy. The boy stepped out, and his eyes sparkled in recognition. “Flower Girll,” he said to himself, and you suddenly felt like you got caught, “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

"We haven’t,” you replied warily at the pet name, “where’s Vernon?"

"Oh, he’s around.” The guy waved noncommittally to the air in the room, crouching his head to look down at you. He stuffed his hands in his black overalls, which covered a painfully bright rainbow tye-dye tee. “Curious to see Vern’s ink though. He’s only ever done small stuff.”

“I thought he wasn’t an apprentice.”

He flicked his wrist around to show you a beautiful line of Chinese calligraphy. "Keep the secret between us, ‘kay?” He winked.

“Minghao, leave her alone.” Vernon stepped out of the small bathroom hidden in the artist room, a white towel behind his neck. You took in his disheveled appearance. His face was red from washing his face, and he wore the same clothes from yesterday. “Hey.” He said.

“Hi,” you replied, “did you sleep here last night?"

"Uh, yeah.” Vernon rubbed at his neck again, and stuffed the towel in his backpack. “I usually do the morning and afternoon shifts, I covered for this guy last night,” he jabbed his fist in Minghao’s shoulder, “but still had to do my day shift.”

“So,” Minghao rocked back and forth in his boots, “why are you here?”

You suddenly felt self-conscious, and gripped your phone between your two palms. A little part of you was disappointed that Vernon was not alone, but another part of you was relieved. It helped slow down the pace of your feelings (feelings?) that was heading in a direction you were not anticipating. “I wanted to say thank you again for last night.” You coughed, and Minghao grinned wider at your explanation. “And I was wondering if you could take a picture of my back? I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”

He beamed, and you could tell he was happy that you wanted to document his work. “Oh, of course! I completely forgot last night.”

Vernon moved to grab your phone, but Minghao swiped a hand in front of him. “Can I take your photo?” He asked you, although the look in his eyes said that you didn’t have much of a choice.

Your cheeks burned at the sudden intrusion. “Huh?”

“I mean, have you seen this guy’s Insta?” Minghao scoffed, albeit playfully as Vernon mirrored your flush.

“What are you talking about?” Vernon exclaimed, thoroughly insulted, “my profile is tastefully abstract.”

“It looks like it was tastefully done by a three year old.” Minghao pulled out his iPhone, and adjusted the filters. “I’m doing you a favor here, Flower Girl.”

You looked warily at Vernon, who slumped in defeat, “If you’re going for that e-girl vibe, I guess Hao’s a better photographer.”

“Better than your pictures coming out blurry.” Minghao shot back, holding the camera to your face. “There’s no light in here,” Minghao glared at the singular window in their tiny studio, the sill decorated with a single jade succulent. “Got any ideas?"

Vernon shrugged, "You said I have the taste of a three year old, so."

With Wonwoo gone for the day, you realized that you did have an idea of where you could take a tasteful picture. The thrill excited and terrified you. You only wanted a simple picture to see what it looked like, but Minghao looked as equally as excited to see your ink. Maybe it was the fact that the art was fleeting or that Vernon was really that talented, but it encouraged you to offer the setting up.

"I think our greenhouse has plenty of light,” you gestured out the studio’s only window, which was in perfect view of the flower shop. “We should be closing up soon, so it’s free."

Minghao nodded approvingly, "We can try."

And with a hasty "be back @ 4:20!” sign taped on the front door to Nu ABO, the three of them walked across the street to the greenhouse.

You went in first, nearly bumping into Joshua who was bent over, pot in hand.

“Hey Josh,” you grabbed the keys from the front desk, “borrowing the greenhouse."

"Hey Josh,” Minghao and Vernon mimicked, who found it amusing that you just brushed by without an introduction.

You rolled your eyes, hearing them exchange pleasantries and bro fists. The plexiglass doors to the greenhouse unlocked with a turn of your key, the smell of heat and grassy rain hitting your nostrils. Joshua placed the pot somewhere, following suit as the boys were right behind you.

“Awesome,” Minghao exhaled, stepping further into the greenhouse. It was a small one, but comfortable enough for a couple patrons to browse around. “I’m gonna move around some plants if that’s okay, I gotta vision.”

Joshua looked a little frazzled watching Minghao talk to himself and start moving the settings around (“The hydrangeas don’t go there, are you crazy?”) and started helping Minghao move the pots and placements around. You and Vernon hung around the entrance, giggling to yourselves.

You tried to bump his shoulder, which didn’t even reach his. “So, what’s your Insta handle?”

He quirked his brows at that, “Why, so you can judge my aesthetic too?”

“No,” you replied, faking your shock. “I would never insult your taste!”

With a roll of his eyes he said, “Speaking of taste, since your shift is over and my shift is over,” Vernon rocked back and forth on his feet. “Wanna grab a bite?”

Something’s fluttering in your stomach, and you stomp it down. It’s an innocent invite, yes. Unfortunately it was not-so-innocent in your twisted mind knowing that you are still fresh from a breakup, yet your backed is marked with Vernon’s work. “You must be tired though,” you tried to reason, “you should get some rest, I don’t wanna bother you.”

“Not a bother,” he said immediately, “besides, I wanna ask you something.”

That got you curious. Before you had a chance to ask, Minghao was ushering you over, telling you to stand in front of a bundle of orchids. They’ve bloomed a Canary yellow, encasing you in a golden ring of flowers overlooking the terrace. The new friend has gestured for you to undo your shirt and he turned away in respect. It’s different with an audience and an expectation. You made haste to undo the buttons of your blouse, then your bra, throwing it aside. You felt the warm, moist air kiss your back, and you heard a low whistle coming from Minghao.

“Beautiful,” Minghao exhaled, “Vern, you’ve outdone yourself."

Beautiful. Vernon made you beautiful.

Your body was simmering, and you could do nothing as you let Minghao photograph you. You focused your eyes on a puddle dripping from a faucet in front of you, counting the seconds between each droplet.

“And, done.”

You shoved on your clothes, and felt extra awkward as you fumbled to reach for the straps of your bra. You nearly slipped on the puddle as you walked back to the boys, who were busy over Minghao’s shoulder.

“Super awesome,” Minghao handed you the phone brightly, “so much texture and feeling.”

The screen showed a halo of foliage that surrounded your bare back, blush orchids kissing the frame with color. Your work shirt bundled under your hips, and fell under your elbows to reveal a city sky. You were breathless, zooming in to capture every detail of the ink. A navy sky, blanketing buildings across your back in a diagonal, splaying from the bottom right to the top left. On the bottom, skyscrapers reaching for the stars.

If you zoomed in enough, you could tell that the stars were shaped like roses.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve said thank you in the past two days,” you started, causing Vernon to grin widely. “But thank you, I’ve never felt so beautiful.”

Vernon scoffed, “I didn’t do anything, I’ve only enhanced your beauty. That’s our shtick.”

You handed Minghao back your phone and thanked him. He then rushed off, saying he had to stay at the parlor since Yoongi was coming soon. Immediately, Joshua began putting back the plants in their rightful places. You and Vernon followed suit, starting with the smaller ones.

“So,” Vernon picked up a tray of succulents, “are we still on for dinner?”

Wide-eyed Joshua crept in-between the foliage, laughably appearing under a series of hanging plants like a madman. “Dinner?” he asked, looking between you two.

“Yeah man,” Vernon reached to pull Joshua away from the plants, “wanna come?”

Simultaneously disappointed and relieved, you let out a subconscious exhale. Joshua was coming, which meant that there would be no possibility for feeling weird (or catching feels), being awkward or fighting any oncoming feelings with Vernon.

"On Thursdays there’s this really good half-off sushi deal by my place. We can take out and eat at my apartment?” Joshua’s kindness was palpable at the offering of his home, and the both of you smiled gratefully.

Not more than two hours later, the three of you are bundled away in Joshua’s two-room, empty boxes of carryout stacked high. The television was playing reruns of Full House, the only source of light in the dim space.

“Are you gonna go home soon?” Vernon asked, and turned his head to the corner of the room. Joshua is cuddled up in the single couch, tucked in a wearable blanket with the armholes.

You shrugged, “I dunno. Usually I crash here for sushi nights,” you patted the couch lovingly, “This is my second bed.”

Vernon chuckled, tucking his feet under his thighs. It made him look impossibly small in comparison to how tall and lanky he actually was.

“So, what did you want to ask me?”

Vernon looked between his legs, as if he were trying to piece his words together. “Long story short, I got waitlisted at my top graduate school option,” he then pulled up his phone, revealing the picture of your back that was taken that afternoon, “but I was thinking that if I made a portfolio of this kind of art, it would really tip my application over the edge. Originally I was thinking of just sending my usual art, but it just popped in my head today while we were doing it.” He looked up through his eyelashes, wisps of copper looking expectantly at you. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be my canvas?”

“Live art,” you surmised, “honestly, I’m honored that you would want me to be a part of something so big. You think I’m that good?”

No, you weren’t doubting Vernon’s art one bit. The fact that your back would be out on display for a bunch of strangers was unnerving, to say the least.

“Are you kidding?” Vernon zoomed out of the image, revealing the curve of your back and the generation of life reflected in the greenhouse. “This is wicked. You’re stunning. We’d make a great team!”

You felt your body heat at the statement. His presence was almost too refreshing, and you wanted to return the favor of helping you out last night.

“Lucky for you,” you shot a quick text to Wonwoo, “I’ve planned to take this week off.”

Over the course of the week Vernon wanted to do an artistic timeline of sorts, adding and retouching the already existing ink on your back until the canvas was full. It felt fulfilling, letting yourself become a vessel of success for someone. The following day, Vernon shot you a text revealing his portfolio, and said how excited he was to see you.

You met in the shack after his shift, and Vernon let you into the office and locked the door. You can hear the rap being played in the artist room where Minghao and Yoongi were working with a client.

The artist was muttering to himself as he invited you to sit at the couch. Something about whether he wanted to start from the “top-down” or “bottom-up.” Instead of contributing to his madness, you turned away from him and started shedding your shirt. Today was a plain cotton shirt, and you shucked it off and balled it in your arms.

No less than five seconds was Vernon’s hands on your back, and despite the warmth radiating from his fingertips, you couldn’t help but shiver. Vernon had explained that while he did a large portion of your back the first time, there was still room for growth and he wanted your back filled by the end of the week.

“Do you mind if I,” his hand hovered over your bra.

You shook your head, and with his thumb and forefinger he flicked off both your bra straps with ease. Your hands flooded themselves in the fabric of your t-shirt, which silently accepted your death grip.

“Sorry, do you feel weird?” He definitely sensed your lack of vocality, and put one strap back in case.

“I’m fine,” your voice is light, what else could you say?

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and resumed his work.

You opt to take in the sounds. Minghao laughed about something in the other room, coupled with the zing of the needle. The music pulled to a stop and boomeranged back into a smoother arrangement.

“I think we’ll start from the bottom-up and build from there,” he then placed his hands around your waist, poking at the dive between your waist and your bottom.

There’s an unmistakable heat that pooled within you, which caused you to wring your shirt harder. It was going to be a long week.

By Wednesday, he was in your apartment, working on the sides of your waist. The day after every session, Vernon would take a picture of yesterday’s work and show it to you. A gummy grin would always take over his face, either proud of himself or happy that you loved the new addition.

Despite the fact that the only thing covering your body was a thin gown medical taken from the shop, every pore of your body felt unbelievably hot. You really shouldn’t be mixing alcohol on a Wednesday night, but Vernon was excited that he was halfway done with the project and it was time to be “poppin’ bottles.”

You felt a little drowsy as a result of that, but nothing terrible. Like he said, the feeling was cathartic.

“Aren’t you drunk too?” you murmured into your navy blue whale plush, “what if you accidentally stab me?”

Vernon laughed, and it shook the couch. You couldn’t see his face as he sat on the floor, getting in the crevices of your skin. He poked at your skin a little harder than usual, as if he were testing the possibility. “That’d still take a lot of strength.”

“You’d be surprised,” you sighed, “those little sticks florists use to keep the babies upright? Flat as a thumb and I still manage to impale tomatoes with them.” He doesn’t respond to that, and you’re left drowning in your own answer. You wondered if he truly thought you were a crazy tomato-killer, or was concentrated on detailing a particular patch of skin. “Can I tell you a secret?” you blurted, “honestly, I think flowers are beautiful, but I really hate working at the florist. The only reason I’m doing it is because Joshua really needed the help and he knew I wasn’t going to do shit until my city job starts in September.”

“Huh,” Vernon stopped, resting the heel of his hand on your back. “That’s funny. Explains all the cursing when you’re cutting roses outside.”

“You’ve watched me outside?” you grinned into your cushion, “creepy much?”

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Vernon blurted, evading your question with one of his own, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since you came by in May.”

You tensed, and if Vernon noticed, he didn’t react. He kept on doing his business, marking your back with baby’s breath. It had to be the alcohol talking. If he drank at all, you couldn’t even tell because you couldn’t get up and he was strikingly coherent. All this time, and you didn’t even notice?

“You don’t have to answer,” he said, as if he knew you were strung speechless. “I just, wanted to say it. We’re cool.”

And you agreed, pretending to fall asleep.

Friday was around the corner before you knew it, and Vernon wanted to photograph the final piece where it all started. The greenhouse was devoid of human life at the crack of dawn, unless you counted Joshua who was asleep on the counter because he was the only one with a key that knew of your recent escapades with Vernon.

Vernon was just as tired as you are, but he was adamant about having the photo taken at dawn, as the first picture was taken in the late day. There was some contrived symbolism attached to it that you didn’t really understand, but you trusted his vision. Besides, your panda eyes wouldn’t be revealed in the photo, so you could master the art of sleeping upright while he took photos.

“Alright,” Vernon set up his camera. He was dressed in a university zip up and matching sweatpants, like he just rolled out of bed. “Everything’s set up, whenever you’re ready.”

Likewise with you, and you pulled off your hoodie, not bothering with a bra. Despite the fact that the room was temperature controlled, the cold morning air still managed to worm its way to your bare top. You quickly rubbed down your gooseflesh with your palms.

You two engaged in a comfortable silence as you tested out your poses and he adjusted his frame. After a couple of practice shots, the air seemed calmer.

“Cold?” Vernon asked casually.

“Anything that isn’t under the sheets of my bed is cold as hell,” you muttered, trailing your fingers delicately across your waist.

“That’s a nice pose,” Vernon said to himself, “we’re almost done. Then you can go to bed for the rest of your day. Unless you’re down for breakfast?"

You two still haven’t spoken about his little confession the other day, but in all honesty there was no reason to bring it up. Your lives were going in different directions, and you knew Vernon deserved more than a halfhearted summer fling.

"I think I’m down for bed and breakfast,” you replied wryly.

“Smart girl,” Vernon chuckled, “can you change your pose for me? Like, pretend that you’re stretching.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by that, so you ended up flexing your arms in different directions.

“No, we’re not doing yoga.” He let his camera swing around his neck as he rushed over to you. The sun was a soft white, the antithesis of golden hour as you two rushed to make the magic happen. He grabbed your arms from behind, twisting the left wris in an unusual angle.

"Ah, Vernon!” You jerked around to face him, now fully awake. “I’m not a Barbie doll, you can’t just move me like that."

Vernon doesn’t respond. He let go of you as soon as you screamed, eyes blown wide and pupils a thick black. His stare is frozen to yours, and his hand is in mid-air, a centimeter away from your bare breasts.

"Oh,” you said, “did I whack you with my boob when I turned?"

"Yeah, you boobed me.” Vernon looked afraid to stare anywhere but your face. “I’m so sorry."

"It’s okay,” you bit the inside of your lip, “I don’t mind if you touch me there."

Now, Vernon looked terrified.

It’s been a long week. A long, surreal week. You wanted to tell Vernon about your conflicted feelings, you wanted to ask about his little crush, and what on earth did he find appealing about you. You wanted to tell him how much you trusted him with your body, and how you wanted him to do more to you than just ink.

It’s then, the gaping boy shook himself together. His hands encircled your neck, haloing at the finishing piece of his work, an echelon moon. Vernon’s fingers trailed to cup your face, and you felt your whole body warm in anticipation. Patient, you waited for his carmine eyes to flutter shut, and you smiled, finally closing yours—

"The fuck is this?"

In an instant, the air was sucked out of you like a blackhole, and Vernon immediately shielded you, throwing his jacket across you like a towel.

"Mingyu,” you said shakily, clutching the cotton coat tighter around your form.

It’s then that a no-longer bleary-eyed Joshua stumbled into the greenhouse, seconds too late.

Mingyu threw down the sack of fertilizer he hauled on his back, black dirt smattering the floor. “Its been barely a week and you’re fucking someone in the greenhouse, of all places?” Mingyu was angry, plain and simple. “I thought we agreed on a break."

"You agreed on a break,” your thighs were numb from leaning on them, but Vernon’s hand on your back encouraged you to get on your feet. “I agreed that two years was too long to wait."

"And who are you?” Mingyu squinted his eyes at Vernon.

“He’s none of your business,” you stepped in front of him, tugging his hoodie closer around your frame.

Mingyu’s face fell in realization, and he looked between you two with forlornness that made your stomach churn. “C’mon baby,” your nails embedded themselves in your palm at the jab, “can we go outside and talk about this?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice was paper thin, but loud enough for Mingyu to hear across the room, “I’d prefer you leave us alone, and do not talk to me ever again.”

It took all your composure to turn around, and you glared a hole into Vernon’s chest. You felt your body bleed goosebumps around your arms and legs, not out of weather, but out of anxiety. You hugged yourself to shut the prickly feeling down. You heard Joshua do the only helpful thing this morning and it’s his soft utterances that finally pulled Mingyu out of the greenhouse. ,

What’s left is the drip of the hose, and the two of you, unmoved.

Thankful for the silence, you looked up at your companion, who was speechless. Vernon’s lower lip was puckered out slightly, face contorted as if to say I’m sorry, that kinda sucked. The tell-tale signs of emotional overload began to prick at your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you wiped your face. Since when did you start crying? “I’m so sorry that I let all of this happen, and I let myself let this happen, and I’m such a mess and I’ve been trying to hide it all this time, but I’m selfish and I just wanted to see what would turn out of it.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Vernon tried to lighten up the mood, and offered you an easy smile and reached for a hug.

“I’m sorry because I don’t know if I like you or not!” you outburst, and pushed him out of arm’s reach. “I feel so fucking guilty I just got out of a relationship and I can’t tell if I like you or I like your attention, honestly. And it isn’t fair because you’re just so sweet and kind and easy to love. Either way at the end of the summer I’m moving into the city for my full-time job. And I, I, I don’t know!”

Vernon forced his way into your space, barely a foot apart. He didn’t touch you, but his warmth still emanated from the jacket you were wearing. He didn’t seem upset, then again you were probably upset enough for the both of you.

“Hey, I offered to do your back because I knew you needed a distraction,” Vernon said softly, “no strings attached, ever. You do you, right? Focus on yourself.”

You wished he was mean about this. It would’ve made it easier. “What if this is the last time we talk? What if I want to ignore you for the rest of the summer?” you murmured, already knowing you. should enjoy these final moments.

“We’ll live,” he shrugged, and finally broke the space between you. His lips planted themselves between your forehead, melting away the lines that marred your brows apart, “and we’ll heal.”

The city was daring. The city was unforgiving.

You tugged your scarf closer around your neck, which constricted your airflow but also prevented any possible windchill from slicing your neck. In your other hand you were hauling a week’s worth of work in a luggage that had once packed your things in August and sent you to this very career path.

As much as you loved your new life, you wished things would be a little more boundless. The box of your workspace, the box of the elevator, and the box of your goshiwon apartment were starting to feel particularly stifling this weekend.

It was Friday (or FriYay, as your co-workers dubbed) and that meant a weekend vegging out with a comfort meal and a new movie. There was a Burger King and a Gongcha under your apartment complex, both calling your name.

Boba and burgers, the perfect way to end a week.

You munched on your fries as you scanned the Gongcha menu, craving something sweet to contrast with your salty meal.

It is then a low, sultry whisper sauntered in your direction (in a Gongcha, with children) and you almost choked on your fry. “I would know that back anywhere,” the offender drawled.

What a strange pick-up line. The paper bag crinkled in your grip, and you turn around to see a familiar perky face in a scarlet Adidas tracksuit. Of all the places, he was here.

“Hey, Flower Girl.” Minghao greeted, wiggling his fingers in a wave. He was on a tall stool, long legs splayed out and a cup of oolong milk tea hung lazily in his grip. His cup was at least 50% ice, and he was shaking the cup like a rattle every ten seconds.

“Normally, people would start with a simple hello,” you replied wryly, ushering him over to wait with you in line.

“Normally,” Minghao shrugged, and slipped an arm around your shoulders as if you were long lost friends, “how have you been doing? Planting gardens for the spring?”

“Please,” you scoffed. To Joshua and Wonwoo’s chagrin, you’ve forgotten a lot since the summer. “I can’t even make a corsage anymore, my brain’s on overload. What about you?”

It looked like he was waiting for you to ask that. You barely got your order in before he started spitting out his story. “Didn’t you hear?” Obviously you didn’t, and he didn’t give you a chance to answer. “Two letters. RM.” Again, nothing. “The RM? The hottest rapper in Korea? Anyway, he was one of our clients in August—he got a sick design of a koala and an alpaca, cooler than you think—and gave us a massive tip on his Instagram story. We were famous overnight! We were getting crazy clients left and right—fuckin’ Sana wanted a little heart on her sternum, hottest thing.”

“So you were able to relocate the parlor to the city?”

“The big push was when Yoongi dropped RM his demo,” he shook his cup furiously, ice clanging, as if he never got tired of this story. “Like, I didn’t even know they were texting! I’ve been running the parlor mostly, I’ve always wanted to live in the city, but RM funded a lot of it and is helping Yoongi make his mix.”

In the back of your head, the question of an aspiring grad student was niggling in your brain, but you pushed it down. “So, if Yoongi’s working on his demo and you’re supposed to be running the parlor, why aren’t you there now?” you asked.

He stared at you as if it were the most obvious choice. “Because I’m here, drinking boba with you.” Minghao then grabbed your finished drink from the employee’s hand, ushering you out the door. “And now you’re going to follow me, because my break was over fifteen minutes ago.”

“What?”

“I have your boba,” he’s already out the door, waving your precious beverage like a fish to its line. “Hurry up, now I’m sixteen minutes late!”

You groaned, lugging your suitcase full of work and now cold french fries back into the freezing weather. The wheels of your suitcase are cracking in exhaustion, mirroring yours. You just wanted your damn milk tea, hot fries, and a Netflix catch-up. What was the point of following Minghao to Nu ABO, when there was no reason to be there other than …

“Oof!” your face slammed into Minghao’s back. The light was red. “Did Vernon move here too?”

“Duh, who else would be covering for me?”

“You’re trying to set me up!” You cried in betrayal, jabbing him in chest with your finger. “Y'know what, I’m just going to get another boba. You keep that.”

You two glared at each other. Minghao looked relentless, ignoring whoever was bumping into him on the streets. His eyes suddenly glinted to your rolling luggage, and he snatched it from your grip, running into the streets.

“Can’t replace your work, right?” He laughed, forcing you to chase him down the block.

You felt sweat start to develop on your back, contrasting with the icy weather. Your work blazer and pinstripe loafers were not suited for vigorous activity. Minghao has an unfair advantage, being tall and athletic, and you had just finished half a bag of Burger King. Damn him.

Minghao stopped in front of a sunken in building, with stairs leading downwards to a neon-lit parlor with the name glittering in electric periwinkle font. Flustered, you gasp at the cold air, finally able to stop. Despite having lost your breath ten meters ago, you managed to tell Minghao you’re proud that they have a real parlor.

Your heart was beating in your ears, and you can’t tell whether it was because you haven’t worked out in months, or because Vernon was behind that door.

Minghao dumped your luggage behind the reception area, and went straight into the artist room. This new parlor was much bigger, so when Minghao disappeared into a hallway he was out of your sight. You wait around, letting yourself sink into the familiar hip hop playlist. There are pictures littering the walls, all covered with a clean black frame. You see Yoongi and the supposed RM, sporting his koala and alpaca ink (which actually did look sick) and some photos of Minghao’s work, all of his designs being simultaneously colorful and graceful.

It’s then in the epicenter of this wall is a long black frame that cut across the horizon, seven images of a woman with flowers and stars inking her back.

Your back.

“Beautiful, right? I’m sure it takes you back.” Minghao was over your shoulder, flicking his fingers between the photos. “Lots of customers have requested these designs. He never makes them the same way, though.”

Instead of answering, you followed Minghao down the hallway and into the artist room. Vernon had just finished with a client. Poking in head first, you saw him ticking off protocol off a printed list, speaking concisely. The client was listening intently, and you see he has an arm sleeve with peonies. It’s then he noticed Minghao intruding once more, and frowned.

“Dude, you got milk tea without me?” Vernon said, affronted.

“Ya didn’t ask.” Minghao vigorously shook the ice in your tea like a baby rattle.

“You didn’t mention it, therefore I couldn’t have asked.”

“You’re so smart, Hannie,” he beamed at him like a proud parent complimenting his son, “that’s why he’s going to grad school.”

You let yourself in fully, and you felt shy as Vernon’s lips parted slightly upon realizing who his second guest was.

“Hey,” Vernon exhaled, and gave you a small smile. He looked happy, content. As handsome as ever, he ran a gloved hand through his hair, soft curls bouncing as he shifted around the parting. “This is uh, a surprise.” his eyes flickered to Minghao, who held his arms out in a passive shrug. “A good one to end the week.”

“Hi,” you bit your lip, feeling shy, “so, you decided to get certified and you’re going to grad school? I missed out on a lot.”

“That’s okay, we got time.” Vernon assured, “besides the fact that I got a project due tomorrow morning that I’ve barely started, and then I have a field trip I gotta go to on Sunday—”

Before it could drag on any longer, Minghao hacked out a very loud, and very fake cough. You broke out of the rêve, and muttered a “gimmie that” before snatching your precious bubble tea out of Minghao’s hand.

Vernon mirrored the cough, more out of embarrassment than annoyance. “Lemme finish up with this client, yeah?” And he jerked his head back to the patient, going on about safety.

Minghao led you out of the room, whispering a “you’re welcome” in your ear that taunted you for the rest of the night.

Vernon finished at 5, just like he did back in the little shack at university square. He came out in a 2XL neon green hoodie, leading the client out the door and telling him to “take it easy”. As soon as the client’s gone, he comes over to you. You’re still staring at your pictures, as if you couldn’t believe that you were on display, looking like a tasteful nude model.

“Hi again,” he said, dusting the imaginary dirt off his pants.

“Hi,” you replied, feeling tingly at the sound of his voice. Did you really miss him that much?

"Um, is it cool if I hug you?"

It certainly has been awhile. You nodded, unsure if you could form a coherent response because you could tell Vernon was blushing and he was being too damn adorable for you to handle.

Upon permission, he brightened. The warmth of his cotton hoodie enveloped you like the way hot chocolate feels after a cold day. You breathed in his scent, realizing how much you missed the scent of fresh laundry, especially on him.

"How are you?” He asked casually.

“Uh, m'okay.” You answered softly, “a little cold nowadays."

He hugged you tighter in response. With one more squeeze he let himself go, but kept you at an arm’s length. "Wanna get dinner?"

You looked at him funny, "didn’t you say you had a project due tomorrow morning that you haven’t started?"

Without missing a beat he altered, "Wanna get takeout? I’ll do work and eat while,” his eyes darted to your luggage, “you do work?"

While you wanted to say that it was Friday (FriYay!) and you weren’t planning to open Pandora’s Box until Sunday night, you obliged and followed him to his place.

On the way over, Vernon got his well-needed milk tea (and your second round) with two matching cartons of jajangmyeon. You trailed behind him rather than next to him, due to the fact that he was also lugging a Joshua-sized canvas on his back. In fear of being knocked out or ruining his work, you settled for walking a meter apart.

Vernon lived on the second floor of his complex. You imagined a sizable one-room similar to your goshiwon, but you’re in awe when you see a fully furnished living room and kitchen. You smiled at the singular jade plant decorating the windowsill, one you remembered as Patricia Planty one session months ago. The hardwood was so shiny you could see your reflection in them. Kicking off your shoes, you stumbled over the kitchen countertop, reveling at the onyx granite.

"I’ve never seen this much granite in my entire life!” You cried, spreading your hands over the cool rock. It was so well polished, you could see your reflection. He was certainly living the high life this year.

Vernon shook his head, setting the take out down and pulling out the containers. “It’s RM’s old place. I rent it out with the guys."

"God, this is ten times better than my place! Your kitchen is bigger than my apartment!"

He flicked your bowl of jajangmyeon over to your side of the countertop, the sauce and noodles premixed for you. "Eat up, babe.” He stuffed a radish in his mouth, now working to mix his own noodles, “we got a lotta catchin’ up to do."

Whether it was your hunger or the casual use of the word "babe”, you abandoned the granite for now and did as told.

An hour later, you’re flipping through their mounted TV, taking full advantage of their Disney+ subscription as Vernon is laying on the floor.

“I thought you were working,” you chastised, letting yourself sink further into their couch. It was like resting on a big, fluffy marshmallow. You never wanted to leave.

Vernon is splayed out like a starfish, papers and watercolors spread around him. His large body stood out against the white linoleum floor, his neon green hoodie reflecting on the shiny surface. “I am.” he replied blandly, “I’m waiting for lightning to hit me with a burst of inspiration."

"Grad school’s biting you in the butt?"

"Big time."

Another bout of silence hit the two of you, and it was surprisingly nice. You finally started to notice that Vernon is picking up some art utensils and is doodling something. (He still is on the floor and hasn’t sat up properly, but progress is progress.)

It felt oddly domestic, but you didn’t mind. There was no need to ask about the past, Kim Mingyu, or any other silly drama you two entrapped yourselves into last summer. What mattered now was the warmth of each other’s presence on this chilly night.

Your eyes are heavy and fighting against the long day, and before you know it, you’re asleep just as Rapunzel escapes Gothel’s tower.

You haven’t awoken to the morning sun in a long, long time. While the notion sounded awfully depressing (because it was), you really didn’t have much of a choice because the goshiwon was closet sized, and closets had no windows. But today, the sun blasted you, forcing you up. This was accompanied by the the tell-tale sounds of breakfast, which was weird because you only ever ate cold food in your room, because there was zero ventilation. The scent of dark roast muddled your senses, forcing you awake. You twitched at the sudden stench, and snapped your back straight. Were your walls always this pristine white?

"Didn’t know you were this early in the game, Flower Girl."

You never went home. While Vernon was long gone and probably off presenting some haphazard art, Minghao and Yoongi (for the first time, in the flesh!) were watching you from their marbled island, while you rubbed the crusties out of your eyes. "Usually, encroaching on a significant other’s apartment is reserved for the 5th or 6th date.” Minghao teased, waving his Nutella toast in your face.

“Oh, shut up,” you glared at Yoongi, who was slowly chewing on his own toast. There’s was black spark in his eyes, like he’s relishing on whatever has unfolded. “And you, you. I know this is the first time we’ve met and you haven’t said a word. But shut up too. Your thoughts are awfully loud.”

You’re embarrassed, and you pull up your hands to mediate your fired cheeks. Instead of your palms, you feel worn cotton dabbing at your face. You wiggled your fingers under the neon green hoodie. Vernon put on his clothes for you to wear. You were in a very uncompromising position, and his roommates were reveling every second of it.

Yoongi shrugged, throwing you a flippant grin. “Whatever you say, Flower Girl.”

Contact emerged in the form of texts and images. You wondered how Vernon managed to keep things casual in light of how sudden your meeting was, but you relished in the way things fell naturally.

[February 19, 2:10PM]

Vern: Is this still your number

Vern: If so, here’s what i submitted for my project

Vern: IMG.934

Vern: if not, pls enjoy this picture of a pink platypus. the medium was watercolor nd if you’re curious, i got the idea from sunsets and phineas and ferb. Enjoy your day

You: hey look, there’s perry

Vern: nice

Vern: wait, this doesn’t confirm if ur u or a stranger

Vern: are u just a perry enthusiast

Vern: evidence pls

[February 19th, 6:08PM]

You: IMG.48

[February 20th, 12:22AM]

Vern: ooh

Vern: look cute in my hoodie

You’ve toggled with the idea of just cutting straight through the bush and asking him out the next time you see him in person. A little part of you liked the chase, however. That feeling where you’re tugging between friendship and something more, and you can’t help but feel like you’re fifteen everytime his name popped up in your messages. You self-dubbed it the-honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase.

[February 27, 5:34PM]

Vern: what are you up to

You: it’s hour 32. I’ve been under the covers and have survived solely on celery and honey-butter chips. currently binging all netflix comedies. debating on whether to send for help otherwise i may never get up

Vern: that’s the spirit

By the time two weeks passed, you felt confident enough to ride off the mutually weird text messages and constant contact to meet with him. By then, you’re knees deep in the honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase. You’re languidly floating in that river, hoping you’re not rushing it by agitating the waters.

[March 8th, 10:10PM]

You: hey

You: you up?

Vern: nah. mastered the art of sleep textin

You: just wanted to ask if you could help me pick out a tatt that would fit me

You: if you were available. I’ve heard from the mullet-monster that you’re a hot commodity drowning in appts and deadlines

Vern: wait forreal?

Vern: i can pencil u in. tomorrow night @11?

You: so soon? What happened to being busy

Vern: not for u. Already have an idea in mind

By the time you arrived Saturday night, Minghao was slapping your back across the door, gabbing on about a “major banger” they were missing uptown. He looked the part, the only person you knew that could fill out an all-studded denim fit. Like a disco ball at a rodeo. He barely said good-bye before he hopped in a Lyft, cheering for freedom.

You poked your head into the artist room, and saw Vernon playing on his phone. His fist dug into his cheek, carob pupils glazed over. You almost felt bad for wanting his attention this late.

“You usually do the day shift,” you commented quietly, holding up a bag with two milk teas in hand.

Vernon looked up, illuminating in a half-smile. “Y’know me, always covering. Just for the hour though, this shouldn’t take long since we’re just looking at ideas.”

He slapped a hand on the client chair. This one was much better than the cot they had in their shack. This one was pure leather and gleamed high quality. You placed your drinks on the countertop and eagerly bounced onto the seat. “Comfy,” you murmured, and wriggled your sneaker-clad feet.

“Good,” there’s a sharp snap from the plastic seal and Vernon is sipping into his milk tea seconds after you put it down. He’s chewing on a particularly large gulp, gnawing on pearls like no one’s business. With his rolling chair, he slid over to you, seamlessly reaching for your wrist.

If he noticed that you’re wearing a particular neon item, he doesn’t comment. He turned on the overhead lamp, letting a soft white light bathe your form. When he finally spoke, he chanted your name in a sing-song, tapping your wrist in beat. It’s as if he were envisioning the color blooming on your skin.

You let him do his thing, and he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery. You see pictures of his friends, some of his family, and digital art. He scrolled slower at the myriad of images: a colorful orca, lavender constellations, and budding roses.

You were seeing a lot of flowers nowadays, with the burgeoning of spring and the recent ending of Valentine’s. It’s only now that you notice how apparent the theme is throughout the parlor, particularly in Vernon’s affinity.

“Why don’t you call me it?” you asked softly, peering over his form to see him mulled over a picture of periwinkle lupines.

“Huh,” he’s distracted, and has now swiped back to the colorful orca image.

“Flower Girl,” you uttered, “they call me that, but you don’t.”

Vernon clicked his phone down, the lupines flicked away. He peered at you through his lashes, the white overhead making his eyes appreciably bright. “Before I knew your name,” he started slow, making faces to himself as if he were debating on whether to tell you, “I’d call you Rose. You were always by the rose bush planted outside the shop.”

“Avoiding work,” you crinkled your nose, however relished in the endearment, “being named after a rose is too big a compliment.”

He snorted, “That’s what they said. Hence, Flower Girl was born,” he’s easy about it, but now he’s put his phone down and is rubbing circles in your wrist. You wonder if he felt how clammy your palms were getting from the minute intimacy.

“You know what flower I’d compare to you?” you asked, “freesias.”

“And what do those mean?”

“Thoughtfulness,” the pad of his thumb still lingered on your skin, his grip painfully apparent. “And renewal.”

“Why renewal?”

“Because,” you swallowed, “you make me feel renewed. And this time I’m sure it’s because it’s you.”

Vernon looked like he wanted to smile, trying so very hard not to embarass you whilst you poured your heart out with delicacy. His coral lips were tucked in a thin line, teeth biting at his lower lip. Drop by drop, he was going to accept that dew with as much care as possible. “Only me,” he inquired, pressing into your pulse.

Your mouth was sand dry. “Uh-huh.” You exhaled a breath long clutched in your throat, hot air fanning into Vernon’s face. He paid no mind, and (to no avail) was still trying to hold in his smile. “You’re dimples are showing,” you whined, poking the little dip in his cheeks with your free hand. “Use your words.”

“Like?” he elongated, playing dumb. You supposed you earned his brand of torture, after all, seven months is a long time to make up for.

“Like how we want the same thing?” you tried.

“How do you know I want what you want?” he feigned, furrowing his thick brows. Acting could’ve been another career possibility for him, portrayed by the way his eyes were blown with confusion, his mouth parted like a kitten.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Forget words!” you broke, nearly shaking from the nerves.

It’s then that Vernon finally gave you a concrete response. His grip on your wrist was near painful as he eagerly tugged you closer, kissing you. There’s enthusiasm in every action from the way he pulled you closer, large hands melding to cup your cheeks. A little part of you is both breathless and invigorated at the energy stinging the room, and you can barely keep up until Vernon spilled kisses down your neck.

He threw up the armrest holding him back, tucking his knee between your legs as he lapped you up, kissing you fully. The chair was much too small for the both of you, his large body pressing you further into the cushions.

He sat up a bit, bumping his head on the lamp. He paid no mind. “By the way, I like you, too.” Vernon puttered cheekily, rubbing his scalp. Just as swiftly, he latches onto your neck and sucks at a sensitive spot. You can feel his teeth showing from the smile in his kisses. His thumbs rubbed lazily over your jaw, enjoying the feel of your soft skin under his rough palms.

“Really,” you exhaled, relaxing against the headrest as Vernon’s wandering hands traveled lower. “Had no idea.”

“But I’m happy,” Vernon is fumbly and sweet, mumbling in the crook of your neck while his fingers toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants, “happy you’ve healed, and happy for us.”

He’s excited, almost too excited. The space between you two was warm, the lamp beating under your skin, awakening something between you two that was left behind that summer. It’s as if winter left him dormant, and you were the fresh flower waiting to be bloomed under his touch.

“Are you always,” you gasped, two fingers already worming their way inside your panties, “talkative at this part?”

“Not if you wanna talk,” and the ever-zealous Vernon Chwe gets to work, sticking out his tongue in surprise when he finds that you’re already drenched. “Shit, you’re so beautiful,” he holds onto that word dearly, and pressed his forehead against yours, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to hold you like this,” he reached for your delicious bud, and you felt your senses flower into pleasure.

He makes a noise, low in his throat as he watched you melt against the seat. “I like you like this,” he said thickly, his voice matching the slick sounds emitting from yourself. “Comfy, relaxed. You always looked so stuffy in those work suits,” you feel wholly undeserving of this worship, as he licked a long strip from your collarbone to your neck, “would love to help you chill out a lil’ more.”

A whine bubbled from the back of your throat, your eyes rolling shamelessly as you feel the pads of his fingers working circles between your folds. “Ah, I’ve—I’ve fantasized about this,” you confessed, “every time you’d ink my back. At one point we just stopped covering myself with those stupidly thin gowns. All you had to do was turn around.” Vernon blinked rapidly, mental pictures ticked like film in his pupils. His hands stuttered across your slick, inserting two fingers between your folds as you continued. His pace was slow, yet purposeful as he made sure you felt him with every thrust. Rings adorned his fingers, and the cool sensation surprised you. You shivered in pleasure. “Mm, I’ve imagined us kinda like this in that little shack, hard against the cot overlooking the shop,”

“Dirty,” he said, as if recalling the weather.

“And ah—wondering what kind of tattoos you have,” and in your haze you reached for him, your hand gripping firm at his gunmetal belt buckle. You tucked your fingers between the button of his light wash jeans, palming the telltale signs of something hard, “please? You’ve done too much for me, lemme return the favor.”

“Not now,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “you can guess my ink on our way home.”

“Wha?“ You’re dazed, feeling warm with affection and drowned in the moment. You feel his fingers, slowly pumping out of its rhythm and resting on your thigh. You groaned at the premature end, his shiny digits resting on your fleece sweats.

“They’ll kill me, this is new leather,” Vernon said, “and now we can afford security cameras, which are so small even I can’t find them.”

“Unbelievable,” you laughed. You’re not frustrated, only endeared.

“Besides, I’d rather have our first time somewhere private. Undisturbed,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "somewhere where there’s lots of granite."

You melted, pulling at his collar to pepper kisses on his nose. The mention of coming home to his pretty kitchen was icing on the cake. "You know how much I love your granite."

(After your granite fantasy was fulfilled, you spent the rest of the weekend huddled in Vernon’s room. You’re living off take out and mutually satisfied with the unhealthy means. When you’re not eating or watching movies, the two of you are drafting your first piece.

Freesias and pink roses.)

(His tattoo was also very cute.)

#vernon #vernon fic #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #vernon smut #vernon fluff #seventeen fluff #vernon fanfic #hansol vernon chwe #seventeen scenarios #kpop #kpop fic #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #blossomed

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officialthiamlibrary · 3 years

Note

Got any canon fics set post 6B?

Here you go! A mix of older fics and some within the last month, I hope you’ll enjoy them!

Ocean Front Property and Yoda Wisdom by Diary (Teen | Complete | 1.3K) Tags: Frenemies, angst and feels Summary: Post-canon. Theo has issues, Stiles cares about Liam, and these facts interconnect. Complete. A Peek Inside: “I still don’t like or trust you. Okay, I never will. But you’ve been good for him. And I gotta admit, seeing you in love is an interesting thing.”

Hold Me. I’ve Lost My Anchor. by SterekShipper (General | Complete | 5K) Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, there is a second fic that follows this one Summary: Once again Liam and Theo had been in a fight. There was nothing unusual about that. It happened all the time. It was a natural part of their relationship. This fight however, had a different ending. A Peek Inside: It was just a fight. There was never a reason. Not really. Their relationship consisted of bickering and playful jibes. A bond had formed the night of the hospital. The night Theo had faced the Ghost Riders head on, fully intending to sacrifice himself. All to save him.

Stones by cherrysprite (General | Complete | 2.6K) Tags: First kiss, Theo introspection Summary: Theo begins to find his place as a normal nineteen year old with an accidental rock collection. A Peek Inside: One day, he sees a man sitting outside that said cafe, playing his guitar softly while people walk past without a second thought. It’s one of the more jarring parts of Theo’s detachment, he realizes. If he were normal, he would be able to grasp how people managed to pick up on hobbies and skills. It was like Mason and his love of reading, Corey and his talent with writing, and Liam spending his weekends playing lacrosse or working out. He just always finds himself perplexed at how they’d each figured out that what they were doing was good to them.

in the hospital after the war by snaeken (General | Complete | 1.5K) Tags: Summary: "I can wipe the blood off my own face, Liam," he snarks, mainly because he doesn't know what else to do; because it's comfortable, familiar, as far as the two of them are concerned. He doesn't pull away though. "I know. But I want to." Liam looks up at him, ocean blue eyes boring into his own. Theo's breath would probably catch, if he was breathing at all. "Let me." A Peek Inside: The hospital is, well. A bit like the aftermath of a warzone. Doctors and nurses and deputies everywhere, armed with handcuffs and body bags, making arrests and treating the wounded; Theo's own wolfsbane-laced bullet wound in his shoulder was treated by Deaton, while Liam regrouped with his pack and had his own wounds treated by Argent.

it’s you, sweet baby by axebastard (Teen | Complete | 1.9K) Tags: Pining, getting together Summary: In which Theo eats a s'more for the first time and Liam isn't quite as subtle as he'd like to be. A Peek Inside: Theo blinked, one corner of his mouth twitching. So Liam was inviting him somewhere. On purpose. He didn't know whether to feel honored or suspicious.

To Take One’s Pain by Endraking (Teen | Complete | 2.5K) Tags: Minor character death, angst, sick children Summary: Liam wanders the Hospital as he does a sweep. Memories come back to him about Theo since the chimera hadn't been seen since Gabe died and Monroe fled. While walking the halls, Liam learns something that will change his perspective about Theo. A Peek Inside: Liam walked the halls of Beacon Memorial Hospital. It wasn't that long ago that it was a battleground and not a place for the sick and injured to heal. Memories of those times, memories of hunters killing supernaturals, memories of the Riders, memories of the chimera and the Dread Doctors pull him to wander the halls. He's not a patient though he would garner a little less attention if he put on one of the hospital gowns. The lights were dimmed, something the hospital did either to save money or remind some of the more active patients that it was indeed nighttime. He moved down one hall to the next, walking up the stairs and repeating the process until he makes it to the roof. Then he hopped into the elevator and repeated. He was making sweeps of the hospital, but it wasn't from any present issue but his worry over his stepfather. Doing sweeps in the preserve was one thing but it was almost too easy for the pack to forget that things attack the hospital regularly and Melissa and Dr. Geyer were right in the line of fire. That brought him to the halls, but his mind was a million miles away as he wandered to the morgue

i know all sorts of things i don't believe by eneiryu (Explicit | Complete | 80K) Tags: Post finale, Theo Raeken centric, getting together, pack dynamics Summary: So, anyway. That’s how Theo becomes pack-mom to Scott’s merry band of supernatural misfits. A Peek Inside: Scott gets this narrow-eyed look like he knows what Theo’s thinking, but humors him regardless, “I was hoping you’d agree to stay here, help protect the town.” (...) “Okay,” Theo blurts out, cutting him off before he can speak, suddenly irrationally afraid that Scott‘s going to take it back, say nevermind, forget it, “Just until you find Monroe, right?” Scott nods, still looking perturbed but thankfully silent, “Okay. I’ll stay until then.”

you want me to hold your hand and kiss it better? by xxDreamFilledEyesxx (Mature | Complete | 3.9K) Tags: angst and feels Summary: Set after the Teen Wolf series finale: After taking Gabe's pain away, Theo thought Liam might be glad to see that he cares, so why has he been acting so strange? A Peek Inside: A few feet away stood Melissa, her face covered in pity for the life the boy on the floor had lost in a war that wasn’t his to fight. Theo's heart skipped a beat as his gaze turned to the person standing next to her. Liam.

Sun Is Up, I’m A Mess by IThinkWeHaveAnEmergency (General | Complete | 5.1K) Tags: College, mutual pining Summary: Liam transfers to San Francisco State and on his first day, runs into a face he hasn't seen in a long time. A Peek Inside: Liam steps closer to the man he hasn't seen in almost two years, his campus security guard uniform clear.

A Chimera’s First Heart by Auddieliz09 (Mature | Complete | 22K) Tags: Mild smut, first kiss Summary: Theo wouldn’t go so far as to say that everything is perfect in the months after the War, but, for him, it’s just about as perfect as his life can get. However, when someone from his past shows up on Scott's doorstep, Theo's life takes a new turn. But will it be for better or worse? A Peek Inside: When they left the hospital that night, Liam had looked at him in a way he never had before. Like he was seeing Theo for the first time without his past hanging over him. He was seeing Theo for the man he was trying to become. A man worthy of being his friend, maybe more. Theo became an official ally to the pack and began to hang out with Liam and his friends.

five punch knock out by I_write_fanfiction_sometimes (Teen | Complete | 2.4K) Tags: 5+1 Summary: Five times Liam asked what he was doing, and one time the answer was 'being happy' A Peek Inside: Theo squeezes his eyes shut and barely holds back a groan. Mint foam drips into the sink from the handle of his toothbrush and burns around the edge of his mouth. Of course it had to be Liam. Fucking Mason wouldn’t ask questions, he’d just walk right back out. Somehow though, Liam has decided he wasn’t scary.

Change of Plans by never_love_a_wild_thing (Teen | Complete | 69K) Tags: Fake relationship, light angst Summary: When Hayden breaks up with Liam minutes before his very public proposal was planned, Theo steps up to save him the embarrassment of being rejected in front of the pack. In order not to disappoint their Alpha, Theo and Liam decide to carry on faking their relationship until they can think of a good way to end it and keep everybody happy. In which Theo is crushing hard and neither of them plan things out well enough (or at all, really). A Peek Inside: Theo opened his mouth and then shut it quickly. He had argued with Liam over Hayden too many times to think that it was worth it anymore. “I just think that you should maybe figure out how she feels about it before you go and ask her to marry you in front of your entire pack,” he said.

Only you can look at me the way you do by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee (Explicit | Complete | 57K) Tags: Smut Summary: But Liam knows that tonight's gonna be one of the nights where he caves in and he doesn't care. A Peek Inside: They hadn't turned up anything so why not blow off some steam and then check back later? Scott'll never know the difference.

The Truth Will Set You Free by tabbytabbytabby (Teen | Complete | 1.6K) Tags: Light angst, misunderstandings Summary: Theo realizes he has feelings for Liam, but before he can tell him he sees Liam with a girl from his class and assumes they're dating, and that Liam could never be interested in him. He makes a decision to help himself find some peace, but first, he needs to tell Liam how he feels. Liam's response surprises him. A Peek Inside: A normal morning in mid-March, standing in the Geyer’s kitchen, watching as Liam tried and mostly failed at making pancakes. He’d stood there with pancake batter all over himself, looking sleep-rumpled and adorable and the thought just struck Theo so suddenly.

The Curse of Batman and Robin by songbvrd (No Rating | Complete | 10K) Tags: Bodyswap Summary: Liam and Theo are friends. Sort of. They live together and spend a lot of time together, but they also fight. Constantly. When a body swapping curse leaves them having to pretend to be each other, shenanigans ensue. A Peek Inside: It never lasted, because as annoyed as he was by Theo, he did also like him. He would never tell him that, god forbid the already painfully egotistical chimera get another boost on his account.

The Big Bad Chimera by OTP_fandom_shipper (Teen | Complete | 643) Tags: Fluff Summary: Theo falls asleep on Liam's shoulder, so he takes a picture. Needless to say, Theo is not very happy and wants it deleted. Que the "wrestling" session in the living room. A Peek Inside: Theo arrived back at Liam’s around 5:00. The beta’s family had been gracious enough to let Theo stay with them after they found out that he had been living in his truck. He did get a job not too long ago since he had graduated high school and wanted to make his own money. He was saving to get a place of his own. Theo didn’t want to stay too long with the Geyers.

Touch my neck and I’ll touch yours by voices_in_my_head (Mature | Complete | 7.3K) Tags: Pornstar Theo Summary: ""And you, Theo, what did you do during the week?" Scott asks, clearly trying to bring him into the conversation, which no one has done aside from Liam (they talked about the new The Good Place episode, because surprise surprise, Theo got addicted to Netflix once he found out what it was) and Corey (who actually seems to enjoy Theo's presence and Liam knows they've hanged out just the two of them. Which he obviously is not jealous about, pff, why would he be? Corey has a boyfriend. ... And Liam isn't interested in Theo that way, obviously.) Theo smirks before answering, to which Liam's heart does a slight jump, hoping that no one noticed or, if they did, will be kind enough to pretend otherwise. "I did a porno."" A Peek Inside: Liam isn't entirely sure how he feels about it. Theo seems to really have turned a new leaf, and Liam is pretty sure he would have died in the hospital if he hadn't been there, but he also can't forget the way he played them all, the way Liam almost killed Scott because of him.

#fic recs #fanfiction #canon future #post season 6b #mod: mary #mod: tara #otlansweredask

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blu-archer · 3 years

Text

A helping hand

Part 1 / Part 2 / Of the flower shop and bakery AU

Snz based again.

zero warnings

Main Pairings: Jimin/Yoongi

Sickies: Jimin [and a mild Tae]

Hopefully this is somewhat enjoyable...

“Is this how you’ve felt?” Taehyung groaned as he shuffled into the kitchen. Shielding his eyes from the sun

Jimin immediately felt his stomach drop when he saw how flushed his roommate was. Tae hadn’t even bothered to change despite it being early afternoon. Although, Jimin could kind of relate.

He hadn’t had the energy to do that at first either. The only real reason he had showered and changed now was because Jin had called in urgent need of a stand in, so Jimin was sucking it up and he was going to work through his cold. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, and he could be eased back into work early.

“I’m sorry. I was hoping that it would skip you this time.” Jimin sighed, wiping his nose with the tissue he had been using. “Should have known better. You had a shoot right? Are you still going to go?”

Jimin knew the answer already but he just wanted to make sure in case his friend decided to be an idiot.

“I can’t go like this. I already called the lady this morning and asked if we could reschedule to next week. She seemed nice about it though, so I don’t feel too bad.” Tae sniffled and sighed as if it were his final breath. He linked his arms around the smaller man as he leant into Jimin’s side before frowning. “Are you going somewhere? Where are your sweatpants and Yoongi’s T-shirt?”

Jimin scoffed but felt his cheeks warm at Tae’s question. “I do not sleep in Yoongi’s T-shirts.” He ignored Tae’s eye roll, mildly grateful that Tae wasn’t wasting any energy on calling him out properly. “Anyway, I have to go in to work now. Jin called in a panic a few minutes ago because Jungkook got into a bit of an accident and has to be taken to the hospital for stitches. Apparently he has Hobi and one of the morning bakers at the counter but neither of them really know what they’re doing so..”

Tae nodded in understanding as he moved to busy himself with making tea. Jimin, who had been emptying soup into a flask for himself before Tae had come in, grabbed a bowl to fill for his friend as well.

Namjoon should be pulling up any second to drive Jimin to work so he had at to get ready as fast as possible and eating right this second was not an option. Driving him had been the only stipulation Jimin had had because if he walked in this weather he would definitely have to add a week onto being sick, and that wasn’t in his list of things to do. Missing three days was enough to start driving him crazy, he needed his old routine back. Not to mention him avoiding Yoongi was leaving him with a heavy, aching hole in his chest. Tae had been telling him to just let his boyfriend come and see him, but Jimin was not willing to risk scaring the florist off so soon, so eventually his friend had given up and just listened to Jimin complain lamely about how his life sucked.

“I was hoping that I would at least have someone to hang out with.” Tae muttered with a pout, breaking off to cough down towards his shoulder before taking the offered food and leant against the table that had rapidly become a sick station over the course of the past few days. “Jin is going to try get back and help you right?”

“I think so. It really depends how long everything takes with Jungkook, I’m not sure how bad the injury is so I can’t really say. But I’m sure Hoseok will stay with me. Yoongi said that his store has been relatively quiet lately.”

“Okay... Just don’t overwork yourself.” Tae said softly.

They hovered beside each other in a moment of content silence, well as silent as the two sniffling sickly men could be, especially with Taehyung in the mix. Jimin had just been double checking that he had grabbed all that he thought would be necessary when his phone blared to life, a swift glance telling him that it was Namjoon calling to say he was outside. Jimin grabbed his things before he gave Tae a quick goodbye hug, both promising to take it easy before he left the apartment and jogged down the stairs to meet Namjoon.

Jimin had immediately gotten to work on making coffee’s the second he walked through the door, a bit daunted by the line that was growing. Hoseok had been trying his best but from the mess on the barista station and the amount of scattered half full to-go cups, he could only imagine how long the poor man had been suffering through this. It didn’t take much to notice that Hoseok was drowning in his attempts. His usual smile and welcoming laugh were replaced by wide eyes, frantic hands and quiet cussing.

Honestly, what had Jin been thinking? Hoseok worked as a florist and the only other job he had had before that was as an assistant teacher at a preschool, what did he know about making coffee?

Despite his blood pressure rising from the instantly stressful situation, Jimin had greeted and bowed at the waiting customers apologetically, fixing on a face mask and gloves before finishing up the current order in record speed. Thankfully with the extra set of hands that actually knew what he needed to do, the pair quickly got into a steady rhythm of work where Hoseok manned the register and the collection of any baked goods while Jimin handled the drinks. It surprisingly flowed well and Hobi was able to sink back into his carefree character since he was no longer out of his depth.

It took probably just over an hour and a half, but they managed to get everyone inside served, most being to-go’s thankfully, so they didn’t have to worry too much on clearing tables. To say Jimin was exhausted might have been a bit of a stretch, but he was definitely well on his way there already. The past three days that he had spent sleeping or lying around did not help the fact that he needed to be awake and functioning for their Saturday afternoon rush.

“I think I need to sit down.” He moaned and coughed deeply into his arm despite still wearing his mask. His legs pained at having had to stand for so long.

And his voice was becoming hoarse again. It had showed improvement that morning but perhaps the activity wasn’t as great a plan as he had originally thought. He could feel his nose threatening to run as well, and the last thing he needed was to be induced into a sneezing mess just before they would get busy again.

Hoseok winced and pushed the spare chair with his foot closer to where he was standing slouching against the counter. Jimin accepted it gratefully, practically throwing himself into it before coughing again. He rested a hand on his neck as it gave a sharp pain, sniffling miserably.

“You’re really down and out this time.” Hobi said sympathetically, offering a bottled water. “I’m so sorry for having to get you called in. I honestly didn’t think it would be that difficult. I have since figured out that the only coffee I can make is instant and Americano. Everything else is off the table.”

Jimin waved off the water, pulling his roughly discarded backpack out from under the counter and onto his lap. He gave a final glance around to see that no one needed help before he was content with opening it and pulling out his flask as well as a travel pack of tissues. “It’s fine. I was feeling a bit better this morning – might be a bit rough right now but I’ll be fine. I’ve worked through worse.” He pulled down his mask and blew his nose as softly as possible. It didn’t stop him from still being blocked up or sounding like a walking plague. “Ugh. This is gross.”

Hoseok nodded subtly but his brows were pinched with concern. “You haven’t worked here in a worse state. Jin would have a heart attack if that happened. But still, you should have definitely still been resting at home. I don’t think Jin will take very long, it depends on how busy the hospital is I guess.”

“What actually happened?” Jimin asked sincerely. Jungkook wasn’t the type to be careless to the point of hospital trips so the sudden visit and ditching of work was quite worrying.

“It was so stupid.” Hoseok groaned, running his hands through his hair. “While he was serving someone, he noticed that knife – the long one that you guys use to cut all the cake slices to put on display, yeah well it was falling or something and he reached for it without thinking. I came for coffee but what I got was to see Jungkook pass out cold with his entire hand and forearm just covered in blood. He is so lucky that he didn’t fall on the knife. And I’m pretty sure that the customer is scared for life, I know I am.”

Hoping that Hobi was exaggerating some, Jimin took one of the coffee cups from the cupboard and poured in a portion of his soup, then looked to Hobi questionably. “Have you eaten?”

“Uh.. no. Not yet. I was actually supposed to grab something for Yoongi and myself, but then I volunteered as a stand in.”

“Do you want some soup? Jin dropped like a bulk amount off at my place and I’ve just been reheating it in portions.” A small smile tugged at his lips at Hoseok’s own questioning look. “What I’m meaning is I didn’t make it, so it’s not contaminated or anything.” Jimin chuckled lightly, holding out the flask.

Hoseok took it gratefully but after a beat put it on the counter, running his hand through his hair again looking fractionally paler than before. “I don’t think I can eat anything red right now. Maybe I can take some over for Yoongi instead.”

Jimin hummed in agreement, murmuring a brief apology at not thinking about the colour and what context Hobi would associate it with. It was a tomato-based soup – not something Jimin was particularly fond of but he knew that Yoongi tended to enjoy it more than other soups. He vaguely remembered Yoongi mentioning it months back when Jungkook and Hoseok had been arguing about what the best foods were. Jimin wasn’t even sure why he remembered it so clearly.

“Why don’t you take something from the baked goods, and you can go next door again. You probably deserve some rest after all that you had to do earlier. I can handle here by myself or call one of the afternoon bakers to just step in temporarily.” He sipped his soup that was thankfully still warm from when he had transferred it to the flask. It felt soothing on his throat, even if it did make him need to blow his nose again.

“I can’t just leave you here.” Hobi frowned as he moved to grab a muffin from the display.

“You can come back if you want to, I just think you might need a break.” Jimin shrugged, tossing his used tissues in the bin before returning his attention to his food. “Rushes in the bakery are a bit different from rushes in ‘Spring Day’, but I’m more used to it than you are. Even if I’m sick I think I can manage. Should I make you two coffee before you head over?”

Hoseok sighed heavily but gave in, making sure Jimin ate a bit more before the younger slipped up his mask again and made up the coffee’s. Declaring them on the house to Hoseok as he waved at the man to go back next door.

He ignored the anxious glance Hoseok shot him from across the store as he was leaving when a couple entered the bakery, greeting the customers politely and responding to their small talk as playfully as he usually would. This was his job. It was something he was good at and he truly believed that he could hold out for an hour or two more without too much stress.

It was a bit difficult to slip into his normal role. He definitely wasn’t as talkative and he had to take more breaks trying to compose himself after particularly severe coughing fits, but most of the customers that came in were regulars and were both polite and sympathetic to the situation. Some of them had even heard about what had happened with Jungkook that morning, while others he had to try defend Jin’s honour in that he wasn’t forcing Jimin to work while so sick and that there was a genuine reason to him being there for couple hours.

Hoseok didn’t come back, but it was fine with Jimin. The rush he had been expecting had dwindled due to the weather, and those that did come more often than not tried to choose the easiest drinks to make in order to make his load lighter. They didn’t need too, but he was thankful that were so thoughtful anyway.

It was howling outside and even with all the doors shut tightly Jimin was still shivering from the cold seeping through his sweater. It had gotten much darker as well, and the rain that had disappeared for the last few days had returned in full force. His head ached and he had been stifling random sneezes that had seemingly been brought by the weather change for the last hour, quite frankly he was beyond annoyed at his crumbling state. He had even accidently dropped a complete latte on himself and had to deal with his jeans being covered in the cooling liquid for the rest of his time working. He was quickly giving up on his solo act and as soon as he had the slightest of breaks he was calling Hobi back.

Jimin had just set a small red cappuccino down on the counter-top when the familiar tickle in his sinuses became impossibly unbearable. He could vaguely hear Ms. Blake – the elderly foreign lady that had been coming to the bakery since its opening – questioning him on something, but he could only bring himself to mutter a quick apology before turning and half stifling his sneeze into the crook of his arm. The hitching and result being far more vocal than he usually was. Perhaps living with Tae really was affecting him.

He had hoped he would stop after one but that would be too much to ask for. He sneezed again, and again, until he couldn’t try to stifle it anymore. He was forced to lay a steadying hand on the counter as he hid into his arm. His mask was becoming wet and he cringed at how he must look right now. In front of a paying customer. And the town gossiper none the less.

Jin would be horrified.

He tried to apologise again in between shaky gasps but all that he had resulted in doing was giving a weird high-pitched whine as someone joined him behind the counter and pushed him down into a chair before addressing Ms. Blake with low and pleasant words that just fell short of audible over the buzzing in his head. Jimin would have thought that it was San or Yunho from the kitchen if it wasn’t for Ms. Blake’s need for conversation.

“Mr. Min? It’s so nice to see you neighbours helping each other out. Poor Jimin here looks just about to drop.”

Poor Jimin was about to now.

He was even more horrified that Yoongi was there and that he was having his worst moment in the day right in front of him. His timing was incredibly terrible.

“He really shouldn’t be here.” Yoongi said deeply. “But he has never been one to turn someone down when they need help. Hobi was over here helping earlier, so I thought it was my turn to have a round. Is there anything else you need?”

Hih’ITCHeww! Hih’hihITSHiew! Hi’INGXTuhhh!

Yoongi slyly slipped him what was left of his fourth pack of tissues. Jimin crumpled from his seat to practically hide under the counter, not daring to look at the elder man as he ripped his ruined mask off to try and clean himself as quickly as possible. He could hear Ms. Blake tell him that stifling was bad for him and that he shouldn’t be embarrassed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care much on her words at this point.

Yoongi was here.

Here.

And Jimin was a puddle of sickness that probably looked like something that gets run over and tossed in the trash.

God, this was monumentally embarrassing.

Yoongi kept her entertained for a few more minutes before helping her pay and waving her farewell, not even bothering to wait until she had left before he was moving to kneel in front of his boyfriend. Jimin finally took that moment to blow his nose properly, internally dying at how wet and gross it sounded.

There goes ever being attractive in Yoongi’s eyes again. Jimin was actually disgusting himself.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Jimin felt a large familiar hand rest on his arm but he didn’t dare look or even open his eyes.

“Hobi said you were coughing quite badly, seems like everything is in full swing… you should have called someone to help.”

Jimin sniffled and curled tighter into himself. He knew that there was a chance of Yoongi coming over, but he had hoped that his boyfriend would be busy with orders or something.

“Min… Please look at me at least. Did I do something wrong?”

Shit. He didn’t want to make a small thing into something more, and truly, it didn’t really have anything to do with Yoongi. It was a Jimin problem and he was going to have to deal with it sooner or later.

“No, I-“ Jimin sniffled again, running his wrist under his nose when he realised that he had no more tissues. “I’m sorry, this is just embarrassing.”

Yoongi lifted Jimin’s chin so that he could see his face clearly. Frowning at the bright red that tainted Jimin’s cheeks and nose. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve seen you sick before, and even if I hadn’t, there is nothing wrong with it. You know… besides not being well, obviously.” Yoongi reached up above the counter to collect something while he rested a hand on Jimin’s knee to steady himself. “Here. I thought I’d drop in to just visit. I’m glad I was here at the right time to help.”

Jimin couldn’t stop the smile from forming when he saw the sunflower he had failed to notice earlier.

“I was going to bring something that represented good health, but I thought perhaps bringing something that I knew you liked might be the better option.” Yoongi glanced away to avoid eye contact as Jimin took the flower, coughing suddenly into his fist. “Since I couldn’t get one to you on Wednesday..”

Jimin ended up resting the flower in his lap while he pressed his wrist hard to his nose. Squinting through blurry eyes at the bright yellow petals contrasting against his black jeans. As much as he wanted to greet Yoongi like how he usually would or at the very least thank him for the flower and helping him, Jimin couldn’t seem to get rid of that stuffy buzz that had made a home in his sinuses. It seemed to ebb and flow as it pleased and honestly left him an unwilling victim to the mess it made of him.

“Do you need more tissues?” Yoongi asked gently, already reaching for Jimin’s bag with flushed cheeks. “You should go sit in the back for a bit. Jin is on his way back so you won’t need to be here much longer.”

“I-“

“Please go.” Yoongi said softly, running a hand through Jimin’s hair and handing him the last packet of tissues that Jimin had thought to bring. “Take a break. I’m annoyed that you had to come in at all. You’re definitely not well enough to be here.”

Jimin couldn’t bring himself to deny the claim, it was pretty spot on actually. His body dragged and his head and chest ached after what he’d forced himself to work through. He didn’t even raise a complaint when Yoongi helped him stand and led him to the small staff area to lay him down on the small couch there.

“I’ll be out front.” Yoongi told him softly as the elder draped his thick jacket over the sick mans’ chest and arms. “I know how to make coffee better than Hobi so don’t stress over it too much. If I need your help I’ll make sure to come get you.”

Jimin’s reply was cut off by a harsh grating cough that made him hold at his throat in pain. Yoongi stroked a hand down Jimin’s warm cheek, feeling the younger shiver lightly at the touch. He laid a final kiss to Jimin’s nose softly before hesitantly returning to the front of the bakery.

Yoongi’s head had spaced so far after what he had just walked in on that he could barely hear the light bustle of the two bakers in the kitchen as they shifted the next load of goods into their respective places in the back. In fact, he pretty much felt like he was living with his heartbeat pulsing loud enough to be heard as music for the bakery.

Was he really that obvious?

With a sigh Yoongi sent Hoseok a text to be responsible for closing the store, then another much more annoyed text to Seokjin before he moved to clear the few tables that had had people at them – desperately trying to ignore the familiar heat that had crept under his skin the moment he had entered the store and laid eyes on the boy with messy pastel pink hair that he had fallen for.

#bts sickfic #Jimin is a hard worker #yoonmin #snz #sneeze #mild sick Taehyung #fanfiction #hobi is a mess #Jungkook is clumsy #Jimin likes sunflowers #Yoongi is sweet #vague namjin if you squint

18 notes · View notes

lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

Text

Do you have any tan lines? Nope. Have you ever wished you could stop time? Yes. I’ve also wished I could speed it up. Is there any pictures on the wall you're in? Yeah, there’s several. Who was the last person who called you? My mom. Did you make any money today? No.

Have you ever fallen and twisted your ankle? No. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from? I haven’t jumped from anywhere. Have you ever gone swimming in a river? No. Ever been so unfortunate to slip on wet rocks? Nope. When was the last time you got completely soaked by rain? It’s been a long time. One of the times that comes to mind is when my mom, aunt, a former friend, and I were at an outdoor festival and we got caught in an unexpected rain storm. It just started pouring down hard and we were not prepared at all. We had to run back to our car, which was parked a good distance away and yeah we were absolutely soaked.

Is there something you really want to buy at the moment? I’d love to be able to book a beach vacation getaway. Would you ever consider culinary school? No. I’m not a cook and have no interest in trying to become one. Do you ever watch the clouds, to see if they look like objects/animals etc? I did when I was a kid sometimes. When was the last time you didn't want to get out of bed? That’s me everyday. It’s a real struggle. Are you excited for anything coming up in the near future? No. My foreseeable future consists of more doctors and appointments and struggles and spending most of my time in bed. Speaking of dancing, do you know any real dance moves? I know them, but I can’t do them. Do you save cards from your birthday/x-mas, etc? Yes. What was the last souvenir someone got you? A shirt. Do you have a favorite remix of a song? One of my favorite covers is Adele’s cover of George Michael’s “Fast Love” that she preformed at an award show in honor of him after he died. I can only describe it as hauntingly beautiful. I really wish she would have released a studio version of it. When was the last time you printed something off? I don’t recall; it’s been awhile. Are you one of those people who can learn music/songs by ear? No, I wish. There was a guy in my piano class I took my senior year in high school that could do that. It was really cool. Has the power gone out recently? No, but I have a feeling it will happen soon. It always does when we have a lot of triple digit degree weather, which is what this week has consisted of. Do you like driving at night? I don’t drive, but I like nighttime drives. Like, whenever I travel I love leaving really early when it’s still dark out. It’s a different experience. Does seeing roadkill make you sad, or just grossed out? Both. Does wearing heels make you feel sexier? I don’t wear heels. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument? The piano can sound that way. What day do you go back to school (if you're in school)? I’m forever done with school. When was the last time you've gone shopping with a friend? It’s been a few years. Do you ever go out to dinner with your Mom? We haven’t physically gone out to eat for dinner in quite a long time. What is your favorite kind of salad dressing? Ranch. Have you ever bought fireworks? Not me personlly, but my dad and brother do every 4th of July. Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies? Sometimes, but I ultimately decide if I want to see it or not. Have you ever snuck in to a theater/dance/bar etc? No. If given the chance, would you go to Ireland? Sure. Who was the last person/website to send you an email? I don’t feel like checking. Has your phone ever rang and scared you? Yeah. I’m such a jumpy person anyway. If you have a cat, does it ever "converse" with you? I don’t have a cat. If given the chance, would you ever fly in a fighter plane like the F-16? No. Are you afraid of standing on the edge of hills/skyscrapers/cliffs etc? Uh, YES. Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar etc)? No. Do you support the funds designed to protect endangered animals? (Like WWF). I haven’t done much myself to support them, but I’m glad they exist. What type of a drunk are you? (Obnoxious, calm, emotional, violent, etc) I was a chatty drunk. I feel like I was annoying, ha. I was also the sad drunk. Do you have an absolute favorite name (boy or girl)? I love the name Alexander. Are you good at pronouncing foreign words? Uhh, depends. If you're not already, when do you plan on getting married? I don’t want to get married. Can you tolerate the smell of cigarette smoke? Nooo. It honestly makes me sick, like I get lightheaded and dizzy, I get nauseous, and I get a really bad headache. When listening to music, do you usually tap your foot etc to the beat? I sometimes tap my fingers and hands. Have you ever literally cried on a friend's shoulder? No. Was there something that "made your day" today? It literally just turned midnight, so today is just now starting. Do you have a favorite kind of chocolate bar? White chocolate. Are you happy that it's summer? Ugh, no. It’s hot and miserable. Is there anything that you should be doing right now? I’m about to make my nightly bowl of ramen. Has anyone had expectations that you just couldn't live up to? (finishing this a couple hours later...) That’s how I’ve been feeling. Are you currently in a relationship? If so, how long have you been dating? Nope. Would you ever consider being a DJ at a party if you were paid? Nah. Have you ever tried those electric toothbrushes? Wow, this question makes it seem like they’re so futuristic and rare lol. Yes, I use electric toothbrushes. Are you or anyone you know devoted to "being green"? Not overly so, no. When it comes election time, do you vote (if you're old enough)? Yes. What was the last movie you watched that was on TV? I watched Fear 1994 on Netflix recently if that counts. How long have you had an account on bzoink? I don’t have an account on bzoink. Do strapless bras work for you? I don’t like them. I only wear them if I have to, like with a dress. Do you have a favorite hair elastic that you use almost always? No. Has anyone told you that they wanted to marry you/ were planning on it/etc? No. When you were younger, did you have a yoyo? I did. I couldn’t do any tricks, though. What was the last video game you played, if any? Animal Crossing: New Horizons. Has anyone ever called you nerdy? Yeah. Have you ever had to call 911? Yes. Has there ever been a tornado near where you live? No, fortunately. Are you a rollercoaster addict? Noo. I’m a big scardy cat. Do you feel comfortable enough to wear short shorts? No. I’m very self-conscious about my legs. About my body in general, really. If you have iTunes, do you find the Genius recommendations helpful? I don’t even recall what that is; I haven’t used iTunes in almost 10 years. Are you quick at looking up numbers in phonebooks/ words in dictionaries? Phonebooks, wow. I haven’t used a phonebook or actual dictionary in yearsssss thanks to the Internet/Google. Have a favorite actor/actress from Old Hollywood? (Marilyn Munroe, etc) Lucille Ball. Out of Biology, Chemistry and Physics, which are you the best at? None of those. Is there a friend you can always talk to about anything? I don’t have any friends. Can you stand spicy foods? Not anymore. :( It’s gotta have like barely anything like McDonald’s or Taco Bell mild hot sauce type of stuff. It’s wild because I used to be obSESSED with spicy food. I put hot sauce on everything and had a high spicy tolerance. Then a few years ago I developed a sensitivity and I can’t even have red pepper flakes now. It sucks. What's your opinion on people who stretch their ears? Hey, do what you want. I’ll admit the really stretched out lobes freak me out, though. Do you think tattoos are expressive art or unattractive? To me they can be either one, it just depends. What is your school mascot? -- Do you find black and white photos to be pretty? Yeah. Food you make doesn't taste as good as food made by others, true? Sometimes. Especially foods like sandwiches for some reason. I think they’re way better when my mom or a deli makes them. Is there a certain color that doesn't look good on you? I don’t think I look good in anything, so. Have you ever heard anything interesting about Nova Scotia, Canada? Not that I can recall. Have you ever seen a bear in the wild? No, thankfully. Do you know when you will get to see your significant other next? I’m single. What's the book you're currently reading? ”Such a Good Girl” by Willow Rose. Is your room currently a disaster? No. If going to a concert, do you prefer it to be outside or in a stadium? Definitely in a stadium.

Do you have a case for your camera? I use the camera on my phone, which I do have a case for. Can your cellphone take a beating? I’ve dropped it a few times and so far so good. Is there a month you prefer over others? October and December. Do you ever buy lottery tickets? Just a couple of times. Can you recall the most disturbing movie you've ever seen? A Clockwork Orange is one. Are you more of a tape or a glue person? Tape. Of course, it does depend on what I’m doing. In some cases, glue is the better option. Has anyone you know gotten mono? Not that I know of. What is/or was your graduating year? I graduated UC in 2015. Have you had a weird dream lately? All my dreams are weird. Have you ever gotten an autograph from someone famous? Yes. Do you own a pair of slippers? No. Do you ever watch VHS movies anymore? No. I don’t even recall the last time. Has your computer ever decided to completely erase itself? No, but I’ve lost stuff because of viruses back in the day. :(

Only when the power goes out do we realize how much we rely on it, true? It definitely becomes quite apparent quite quickly. Have you ever picked an apple off the tree and eaten it? No. Can you say yes / no in different languages? ”Si” and “No”, ha. Are you good at styling your own hair? No. Especially not anymore since I just don’t have the motivation or energy to do anything with my hair, which is why it was always up in a bun. I finally just cut it really short and have been wearing a cute wig if I go somewhere cause that’s all I can to do right now. I am sad, though. It was so long. Out of the traditional superheroes, which one is your favorite? The Scarlett Witch and Iron Man. What color is the shirt you're wearing right now? Black. Have you ever been lost? Physically and figuratively, yes.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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writingithink · 4 years

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The Doctor’s Domestic Nightmare Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: G Wordcount: 2,542 Summary: They visit Jackie to do some Earth-wedding planning. Notes: This is for Day 5 of @timepetalsweek ! I used two of the prompts, the picture prompt and 'family'. A fair amount of the other fics in this series get referenced in this one, but I still don't think you'd be lost if you haven't read them. Extra special thanks to @hey-there-juliet , the best beta ever <3 All mistakes are mine. I own nothing.

READ IT ON AO3 -> copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478851

The Doctor landed the TARDIS outside the flat this time. Anything he could do to make this whole thing go easier (and hopefully quicker).

“How long are we staying?” He turned toward Rose, who was still sitting on the jumpseat, doing something on her phone.

“Thought we might stay the night,” she slowly replied, attention obviously otherwise involved. “Mum’s been lonely.”

“What are you doing?”

Normally she was out of the ship in a heartbeat when they landed at the Estates. This time she didn’t look like she’d be moving anytime soon. Their bond wasn’t providing him with anything useful, just a mix of concentration, mild frustration, and sympathy. They had agreed to both put their barriers up decently high shortly after she woke up, when they started to create a stress feedback-loop in each other's heads. He sat down next to her and leaned over her shoulder to see that she was texting Jackie.

“You know, you can talk to her in person right outside these doors,” the Doctor felt the need to point out.

“No, no, however my phone works now, the sonic or the TARDIS or whatever, it, like- it blocked my texts until I woke up this mornin’. But if you look at the little time stamps, it’s sendin’ my replies as if I didn’t wait a month to answer. I’m texting my mum three days ago,” Rose explained.

“Oh. Huh. Must be the TARDIS. Have you been doing this all morning?”

“Yeah. The first text came through as being from about, I dunno … an hour after we left last time?”

“Well, knowing your mother, she’ll be outside the door any minute. Doubt you’ll have time to finish the week,” he admitted with a frown. The Doctor hoped that all of the guilt he was feeling at keeping the two of them apart was safely behind the walls he’d erected in his mind. Of course, traveling, being away from her mother, that was Rose’s decision (and one that he was immensely, immensely glad for).

But still.

He and Rose had talked, back when they were at the Olympics, after the Isolus. About things, family things, Gallifrey things that he didn’t want to talk about. Thankfully, with the bond, he was able to show her more than tell her, because the words wouldn’t come half the time - a real shock, with his gob. And he’d admitted to her how much he wished things had been different with his children. That he’d been more like them, or they’d been more like him - but they had taken after their mother, who was a very respectable Time Lady, and fit right in. Whereas he never had. Things had brightened up a little when he told her about Susan, but overall the whole thing had made them both very sad, very ill timed conversation to have on a honeymoon.

And now he felt guilty, much more so than usual, at the thought of Jackie being lonely while they gallivanted about time and space.

“I need to change,” Rose announced, jostling him as she stood and bringing him back to the present.

“What?”

“She’s made some appointments at some very nice places and I have to change. Ahh, I don’t even know what to wear!” she exclaimed, quickly exiting the console room but pausing at the entrance to the main corridor. “If mum shows up, can you stall her?”

“ What?!”

But his wife was gone, apparently off to change out of her jeans and hoodie. The Doctor sighed, circling the console, mentally calculating what repairs he might be able to make some progress on in the time that he would be waiting on her. It really was a shame that humans tended not to pick an outfit and stick to it - things would be so much simpler. Not that he didn’t enjoy all the fun, different things Rose wore. And she did seem to really enjoy dressing up for all of the different places they went to.

Just as he was considering perhaps changing his tie, knocking started up on the TARDIS door.

Oh, bloody hell.

He flinched, expecting a mental zap, but it never came. Right, they were blocking most things out. Ehh …

The benefits of mental privacy - today, at least. Well, it was obviously necessary but he really didn’t like it. What did it say about him that he preferred to be telepathically reprimanded than to not be telepathically noticed at all?

Probably nothing good.

The Doctor shook his head as the knocking continued, and then jogged down the ramp, grabbing his coat as he went. He opened the door just wide enough to slip out, slamming it closed with his back as soon as he’d cleared it.

“Hello, Jackie!” he greeted his mother-in-law with a wide grin.

“Doctor,” she responded, crossing her arms. Ohh, and he’d been hoping she would have warmed back up after last time. Then again, what had been a month and a half for them had only been a week for her. “Where’s Rose?”

“She’s still getting ready. I never can tell how long it’s going to take her, so I may have landed us a bit, er, prematurely.”

“You’re not lyin’, are ya? She’s not in there sick, or injured, or- or-“

“No no no no no,” he quickly interrupted, waving his hands about, “I would never lie to you about something like that! Rose is fine. She’s just- just- picking an outfit or doing her hair or something.”

“Alright then,” Jackie said, finally seeming to relax … a bit. “Maybe I can give her a hand.”

The Doctor knocked her arm away as she reached for the door, and that was quite rude, wasn’t it? Definitely not doing anything to get back into her good graces, but if Rose was still texting and Jackie had her mobile on her, he wasn’t sure it would still work if her mum entered the TARDIS.

“If you go in, it’ll take even longer!” he insisted, not knowing if that was necessarily true but assuming it was. Jackie had never been in the wardrobe room, so he could only imagine. “Why don’t we head inside? Otherwise we might be standing outside the TARDIS for ages.”

“ You want to sit around the flat with me, no Rose?” She seemed skeptical, and he really couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah! Of course!” The Doctor pasted on what he hoped was a winning smile.

The things he did for his wife.

“Riiiight. Okay, then. Fine. She better be quick about it, though, otherwise we’ll be late. You shoulda waited for her to land that box of yours,” she scolded him as they headed up to the flat. He took the time to really look at her, and realized that Jackie actually looked quite nice today, for once not wearing one of her velour tracksuits.

It was too bad he couldn’t tell her that of course he’d waited for Rose before landing.

“Won’t happen again,” he said instead, hoping that was true.

They entered the flat and the Doctor was sincerely at a loss as to how to proceed. He projected everything that had happened to Rose, just getting an ‘okay’ in response. Her mental presence was frenzied, and he wished he knew how to be more helpful. The fact was, he had wandered into something very human that he had never thought that he’d ever be a part of.

“So, how’s it been?” Jackie called out from the kitchen.

“Hmm?” He wandered into the room to see her moving about, fixing tea.

“I said, how’s it been, the two of you. With your first week or however long it’s been for ya, dating.”

“ Dating?!” the Doctor repeated, and now she was facing him, looking at him like he was an idiot for some reason, but excuse her, what?!

“My daughter?”

“No, I know your daughter, but we’re not dating! We’re married!”

“Right, sure, so you’ve been sayin’, but the fact is you two weren’t even properly together before your alien voodoo ended up accidentally getting you hitched. You can’t go from nothin’ to married like that, relationship-wise, no matter what ya got goin’ on with your shared brain whatever you call it.”

What?

“Bond,” he found himself mumbling, “it’s called a bond.”

“Though if you ask me, you two did go on about like you were together, even if Rose was constantly denying it. I’m not blind, y’know. And it wasn’t just me, either. Ask anyone around here, watchin’ you too making doe eyes at each other.”

“ Doe eyes?! I don’t make doe eyes,” the Doctor denied, though he still was trying to process the whole beginning of her speech. “Wait, did you say alien voodoo?!”

His words fell on deaf ears.

“And don’t get me started on the constant touching. The both of you had to realize that normal friends, platonic friends, don’t carry on like that, clingin’ to each other.”

“Clinging?” He didn’t even have it in him to scoff anymore. This was exhausting. Jackie pushed past him, handing him a cup of tea as she went. “Erm, thank you.”

“Use a coaster,” she told him, pointing at the couch.

Forget the beast in the pit, this was hell.

“Right, yes, of course,” he nodded, quickly sitting down and placing his mug on a coaster as ordered. Ugh.

Still, it was better than the interrogation she’d given him the last time they’d been here. And at least this time Jackie didn’t seem to expect him to say anything at all. Though she had asked him a question. And people called him rude!

His mother-in-law took a seat in the chair with her own mug, giving him the same skeptical look that she had after catching him modifying her toaster. Thankfully, before she could start up again the door opened and Rose walked in.

And she was breathless, panting, having obviously ran all the way from the TARDIS.

And from what little he could get from her over the bond he could tell that she was incredibly stressed and anxious.

But she looked gorgeous.

Her hair was done in soft curls, and she had on a TARDIS blue dress and the same little pink heels she’d worn when they’d failed to see Elvis. He really needed to get back around to that. Might not have time until their second honeymoon, though. Too many different plans. The Doctor couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Mum!” she exclaimed, immediately wrapping Jackie in a hug.

“Finally! Thought we’d miss our first appointment! I told him, wait ’til you’re done before gettin’ you here, especially if he’s going to cut it so close. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t pass his test, you know, the way he lands willy nilly, and a year late, don’t think I’ll forget that! Who in their right mind woulda given him a time machine if they knew he’d be carryin’ on like that,” Jackie nattered on.

Not a word, he bit out to Rose across the bond and was actually quite pleased with the resulting mental laughter (despite the fact that it had really been a dire warning).

“Sorry for takin’ so long. I think we should still be fine. We’re getting a cab, right?” Rose asked, and they both began heading right back out of the flat.

The Doctor picked up his tea, blew on it, and put his legs up on the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?” Jackie asked him, holding the door open. “Shake a leg!”

“What?”

“You’re coming with us!”

He looked at Rose, who mouthed ‘sorry’, pointed at her phone and shrugged before remembering that they could speak telepathically.

Mum never said she expected you to come with us until the texts from yesterday, she explained, and I was in such a rush to get here by the time I got those ones that it slipped my mind to tell ya.

“Oh … right,” he tried to cover, “I just … thought we were having tea. And you know how great I think your tea is, Jackie. Saved the world, your tea did. Well, helped my regeneration sickness, which amounts to the same thing in that situation. Free radicals and tannins, have I properly explained the benefits to you? You see-”

“Wait a minute!” Jackie interrupted him, staring at Rose’s hands for some reason. “Where’s your ring?!”

Ring? Ring. Oh bloody, fucking hell.

“Oh, we haven’t-”

Her mother didn’t even give Rose a chance to speak. “We’re to go to all of these places, wedding planning, and he didn’t even have the decency to get you an engagement ring?!”

Exchanging rings. He knew that one! It was a human marriage custom so pervasive that it remained a part of their wedding ceremonies throughout time and space. And he’d forgotten.

“We just haven’t had a chance to go looking yet, that’s all,” Rose lied. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say it’s off gettin’ sized.”

Jackie huffed before stomping out of the flat, his wife trailing behind. The Doctor sat for another moment, positively baffled at how this day was going, then bounded out of the flat after them. When he caught up to Rose, he took her hand and pulled her to a stop.

“I’m so sorry,” he told her, and really, he didn’t even know where to start.

“Doctor, it’s fine, I don’t care about rings and stuff.”

“Not just that, though. But still, that too! I’m sorry for- for not doing this properly, not dating you, jumping straight into everything. I waited too long to tell you how I felt, and now I’m completely rubbish at doing all of these human courtship and marriage things, and you deserve-”

“Doctor,” Rose interrupted him, putting a hand over his mouth. “Y’need to stop listening to my mum. We’re fine. We were fine before you left the TARDIS, and we’re still fine. Better than fine, even. We’re fantastic. And let’s get this straight now, I’m the one who gets to decide what I deserve.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, words muffled by the hand she still hadn’t moved.

You, she declared over their bond, barriers dropped so that a tidal wave of love and affection poured into him.

And then he effortlessly nudged her hand out of the way, pulled her even closer, and kissed her.

The Universe was not kind. It owed him nothing. If anything, he owed it. Because it gave him her.

The hand not clutching her lower back tangled into her hair as he deepened the kiss, his own barriers crumbling as he tried to express everything he was feeling in that moment. Her arms wrapped around his neck and it was perfect. Everything was perfect, and the Doctor had no idea why he’d ever thought otherwise.

“OI!!”

They sprang apart as if a bucket of water had been poured over them.

“None of that!” Jackie yelled from across the way. “Get a move on! I swear, this is gonna be worse than all of the lovesick mooning.”

He was mortified.

Rose’s barriers had already locked back into place, her face red.

Tell your mum I’m off to get your ring, he projected before running back to the TARDIS as fast as he possibly could.

#timepetalsweek #ficandchips #ten x rose #dw fic #dw fanfiction #timepetals #tenrose #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #fic: the doctor's domestic nightmare #my fic #I THOUGHT I WOULD BE LATE BUT I'M NOT #and also no i do not know why i am #doing this event like nanowrimo on steroids #this is my life and these are my choices

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secretlywritingstories · 3 years

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I kind of hate that I am scared of coronavirus. I suppose it’s a good thing because it makes me cautious which is important but I also do not like the sudden surge of fear when I think about someone close to me getting it.

I live in a privileged country that is doing quite well with the situation all things considered, more and more people are getting vaccinated every single day and my unemployment has meant that I haven’t really needed to be out in public. My mother has been vaccinated for months, my grandmother for weeks and my father just got his first shot a couple of days ago. It is all looking up.

Then one of my best friends got it. A best friend who has a history of asthma which is thankfully behind her but I still felt this dread wash over me. I’ve heard about friends of friends and further out acquaintances but this felt scarily close to home. I had seen her just a couple of weeks before and she is one of the few people I had allowed into my “bubble” - something I have limited to a total of four friends and four family members pretty much during this whole thing.

She is fine. She only had mild symptoms and she is feeling better already. But. I am worried. It’s a novel virus and we are still not sure how it might affect those who have had it in the long run. There is no way to know anything about that for sure. I hope, so very dearly, that there will be no lasting side-effects for any of the people who have had it, whether their cases be mild or severe.

I was supposed to meet up with her and another two people today. It has been long enough that she’s clear. She even sent me the official document stating her as immune - I know she is working at a literal test centre and has been in for work most of the week. There is nothing to be scared of, but I still feel scared and worried.

It’s the overthinking and the insecurity and it both feels dumb and like I am overreacting and like I am taking precautions I have been slacking on a bit as the situation improved. I’m so tired of being scared of people all the time. I’ve never been good in crowds or being close to strangers but now just thoughts of it is enough to turn my stomach.

My younger brother and one of my best friends work in the same grocery, and two of their bosses have gotten the virus in this past week. My brother and friend are still clear so far, testing almost daily, but my heart aches at the mere thought. I don’t want anyone else I am close to to get infected.

It’s been over a year now and it started to feel a little like we would be in the clear. The vaccines have been rolling out since Christmas, and everyone should be vaccinated by September. The country is opening up again and life is “returning to normal”. Only it doesn’t feel like normal.

I feel scared and uneasy and like I have forgotten how to interact with the world outside of my little safe spaces like my flat, my parents’ home and the stables where my horse lives. I’m scared of getting the virus myself, despite being young and healthy, but I am equally scared of passing it onto someone who cannot handle it. It’s a scary thing, and someone close to me getting sick has definitely made me revaluate how I behave lately. I kind of hate this anxious spiraling but it might be necessary.

#coronavirus #spilled thoughts #corvid19

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oh-great-authoress · 4 years

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Love Multiplied, Not Halved

When it comes to writing, it truly is either famine or feast. I gladly take advantage of the periods of feasting, because after that, I don’t write for months, if I’m lucky. Well, here is the third, and at the moment, final fic in my Peace of Love “series”.

This is Gingerrose pregnancy and baby fic with a slight soupçon of angst and a whole heaping helping of fluff.

Trigger warning for very oblique references to abortion and miscarriage. Read carefully, guys. Rating: T, I’d say. Enjoy! Rose had been told by Doctor Kalonia when she and Paige had joined the Resistance that due to the pollution inflicted by the First Order on Hays Minor, she wouldn’t be able to have children. Rose didn’t know how to feel about that at first. She had always hoped that once everything was over, in better times, she would find the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and have a family of her own. In time though, she learned to accept… that, and paid no more attention to that detail. It was fine, and when she told the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with that fact, Armitage was perfectly alright with it. They had been happily married for almost three amazing years now, though, and Rose would be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined a boy with black hair and pale green eyes, or a girl with brown eyes and red-brown hair running around their little house. She could almost see her and Armitage teaching their child engineering and how to fix anything. She could see Aisling teaching them how to bake, like she taught Armitage. She could see Armitage teaching their child how to fish in the small, babbling stream that ran through their property. But with what she knew about her medical condition, she knew she would never be able to see those imaginings come to life, no matter how much she wished for it.

And then one day, Rose was roused from sleep by the unstoppable urge to throw up. She ran to the bathroom and managed to reach the toilet in time. In a matter of seconds, she felt her husband’s presence knelt behind her, his hand running up and down her back. “Sorry for waking you,” she muttered, knowing he was a light sleeper, and that he probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again after this. “It’s alright.” He pressed a cool hand against her forehead. “You’re not running a temperature, that’s good.” “It must be the seafood we had for dinner — I probably didn’t cook it well enough.” “Yes, perhaps. I’ll throw the leftovers in the rubbish just in case later.” Once her nausea passed, he bundled her into bed with some crackers and a cold glass of water, both of them sure that this was a mild stomach flu. But what they thought was a stomach virus that would pass in a few days didn’t pass at all. In fact, it only got worse. Armitage was… well, like a headless chicken, running here and there, going to the market practically every day to get various stomach remedies, plying her with glasses of cold water, crackers, and whatever newfound cure he had discovered that day. As much as she appreciated Armitage and his efforts for her, the constant nausea was starting to get on her nerves. After almost two weeks of this, Rose finally went to the town doctor, hoping that Dr. Ropero would have some answers. ———————————————————————————— “Mrs. Tico-Hux, I have some good news for you. The vomiting and nausea should stop soon, and you are a little over a month into your first pregnancy,” Dr. Ropero grinned. “What?” Rose breathed, not sure she had heard him correctly. “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Tico-Hux.” “I — I — How?” Dr. Ropero’s mouth twisted humorously. “Mrs. Tico-Hux, as a married woman —“ “No, no, I know how, but how? I was told years ago that I would never be able to get pregnant.” “Well, near as I can figure, having a healthy, balanced diet and breathing fresh, unpolluted air as well as having significantly lower stress levels has made your reproductive system recover to the point where you can have a child.” Rose gasped, a grin beginning to spread across her mouth. “I’m really pregnant?” He smiled, “Mrs. Tico-Hux, you could not possibly get any more pregnant.”

Rose was now very glad for Dr. Ropero’s insistence that Armie not come into the examination room due to there not being enough room for the three of them as she did not know how he would react to this news.

“Now, I’m going to give you some anti-emetics which should ease the nausea, as well as some mint extract capsules which should also help. I’d like you to come in for an examination every three weeks to a month so we can make sure you and your child are healthy.”

It happened so fast. Two pill bottles were pushed into her hand along with an appointment card, the date of which she abstractedly set, and before she knew it, she was in the waiting room. Upon seeing her, Armitage immediately stood and approached her, firing questions at her faster than she could reply to them.

“Armie. Armie, calm down,” she interrupted.

“I am calm,” he replied, the coiled tension visible throughout his body.

“I’m alright.”

“You are? What did Dr. Ropero say?”

This was it. What would she say? In a kneejerk reaction, the words that came out of her mouth were, “I’m alright. It’s just a little bug that should pass in a while. Dr. Ropero gave me some pills to help me.” Well. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

The tension visibly drained from his frame. “Oh. That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah,” Rose lightly smiled. “It is good.”

————————————————————————————

Although it had seemed like a good decision at first, Rose was quickly regretting her decision not to tell Armie that very day. Sooner or later, she would have to tell him. This would eventually come out, literally. She was beginning to stress out, even though she knew it wouldn’t be good for their child.

Their child. It still felt so surreal. She was carrying within her a life, a child that was half her, half Armitage, the child she never thought she would have, the child she had dreamt of for so long.

She wished her mother and sister were still alive so that she would have someone to talk to about this. She was beginning to despair of having a confidant when it occurred to her. She still had someone who would understand.

It took some doing, but Rose managed to get up without waking her husband, which was a kriffing miracle. She crept to the downstairs workroom where they kept the subspace holocom system. She input the now familiar frequency and prayed that they would pick up.

Aisling’s concerned face and voice came up on the projector and through the speaker and Rose nearly sobbed in relief. “Rose, a stór, what’s wrong, it’s very late on Tareth, and you look so tired.”

“Oh, Aisling,” she began, before breaking into stifled tears.

“What’s wrong, mo leanbh?”

“I — I — you’re going to be a grandmother.”

Aisling’s jaw dropped and a look of complete joy came over her. “I’m — you’re pregnant, my dear?”

She could only nod in reply.

“I’m so happy for the two of you, this is wonderful!”

“It — it is, I’ve always wanted a child, but — but I haven’t —“

Realization dawned on her mother-in-law’s face. “You haven’t told Armitage.”

Rose numbly nodded her head.

“I — I don’t know how he’ll react; I know he’s traumatized by his own childhood and — oh, Aisling, I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh, child. I wish I was there right now so I could hug you.”

“I wish you were here too. I feel so alone!”

A peculiar look came over Aisling’s face. “You’re not alone, Rose. As long as you have me and Armitage, you’ll never be alone. We love you, and we’ll always be there for you. I should go.”

Rose was about to protest when Aisling leaned in and whispered, “Look behind you,” before sending a last, encouraging smile, and ending the connection.

Rose froze, knowing what — who was behind her, but not wanting it to be true. This was not how she wanted this to go.

“You’re pregnant, Rose?” He apprehensively said.

Slowly, Rose turned in her chair, seeing the sleep rumpled, but alert form of her husband in the workroom doorway. She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, willing something, anything, to come out of her mouth. Finally, she managed a quiet, “Yes.”

He measuredly walked up to her, and sat down on the chair beside her, taking her hands in his. “Rose. I’m so sorry. I understand if… if you don’t want —“

Rose cut him off, horrified. “No! No, Armie. I want this child, our child. I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“The doctor’s visit. You knew then.”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry for lying to you. I’m so sorry.”

He worked his jaw briefly, a pensive look on his face. “The old parts of me want desperately to be mad at you, but it wouldn’t solve anything at all, for one thing, and… now, I could never be mad at you. So… it’s alright, mo ghrá. You have nothing to be sorry for. I understand. I’m sorry that you felt scared to tell me, and that my traumas made you feel like you had to go through this alone. You won’t be alone — you’re not alone.”

“Oh, Armitage!” She said, before rushing into his arms.

————————————————————————————

Rose was now nearly five months into her pregnancy at which point the morning sickness had thankfully passed a couple of months back, and according to Dr. Ropero, their child was developing healthily, and that it was likely going to be a smooth birthing process. One thing Rose had noticed though, was this odd distance that Armie was displaying. It was not a physical one, oh no. God forbid that she went out of his sight for two seconds. It was an emotional one, when it came to him bonding with the baby. At first she thought that he was just concerned about what could happen in her first trimester, but even after that milestone had passed, he was still the same. She didn’t know what to do, she was getting frustrated, and it was beginning to show.

It was a cool night on Tareth when Rose awakened, not knowing why. Soon, she realized something wasn’t quite right with the bed. She turned over to see Armie’s side of the bed empty. She glanced at the chronometer on her nightstand. 0200 hours. She sighed, pulling herself up. This was far too early for him to be up. She would have to drag him to bed, it seemed. Fortunately, she was experienced at that.

She checked the upstairs workroom, but found it empty. Huh. Going down, she checked the sitting room and the kitchen but found them empty as well. Finally, she went in the direction of the downstairs workroom, but hesitated when she heard voices. Pressing her back to the wall, she edged towards the half opened door.

“It’s far too late for you to be up, Armitage,” came Aisling’s concerned voice through the holocom.

“I know, Mother,” was his tired reply, his voice edging towards an Arkanisian accent like it always did whenever he spoke with his mother. “I — I need to talk with you.”

“What’s going on, mo leanbh?”

“I’m worried.”

“Is something wrong with Rose?”

“No, no, she’s perfectly alright. It’s me that’s the problem.”

“Tell me what’s wrong, son.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Be a good father. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t want to be like — like —“

“Like Brendol.”

“I don’t feel ready. I’m afraid of everything. And how do I even begin to tell my child that their father is a criminal, a murderer?”

“I want you to listen to me, and listen to me well, Armitage Hux.” Aisling’s voice was stern. “You will be an amazing father for the very reasons you think you will be a horrible one. The very fact that you’re questioning yourself is exactly why you will not be like your father. And in regards to your not feeling ready? No one does. I knew I didn’t feel ready to be a mother when I found out I was carrying you. I was afraid too. I was afraid I would bollocks everything up. I thought I was going to be horrible.”

“You were a wonderful mother. The best.”

Aisling didn’t say anything in reply to that. After a beat, she continued, “And you’ll tell your child about your past when they’re old enough to understand. My grandchild is half Rose, so if they’re anything like her, they’ll forgive you, my dear.”

Armitage sounded so vulnerable and almost young when he replied, “You’re sure, Mother?”

“I know they will.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“You’re welcome. Now go to sleep, you’ll need all of it you can get for the next eighteen years.”

“I will, Mother.”

“Is aoibhinn liom tú, mo leanbh.”

“Is aoibhinn liom tú, Máthair.”

The beep that signaled the end of the connection sounded through the room. Then, to Rose’s surprise came, “I know you’re there.”

Rose stepped into the room, aware the roles were reversed from months ago.

“I’m sorry,” he continued.

“For what?”

“I know I’ve been distant and —“

“I’m sorry, Armitage. I have to admit that I was getting a little frustrated with you. I didn’t think that you could be feeling overwhelmed, inequipped, and unprepared, you seemed so confident — I didn’t think, and I’m sorry. If it‘s any comfort, I’m a little freaked out too at the thought of being a mother.”

“You? You’ll be amazing — the best.”

“You just said your mother was the best.”

He considered this for a moment. “I — er —“

“Don’t short circuit your brain, honey, if I turn out to be as good as your mother, I’ll take it as a win,” she smirked. “And your mother’s right. You’ll be a great father.”

“I will?”

“Yeah. And I’m gonna give you a troubleshooting guide, so to speak, so you feel better. When you’re stuck as to what to do, ask yourself: “What would Brendol do?” Then do exactly the opposite.”

“That’s good advice,” he said, a watery grin on his face.

“Of course it is. It’s your wife’s advice. Now, my next piece of advice is, come to bed. Your mother’s right, if this child is anything like us, we’ll need all the sleep we can get.”

The couple lay down in bed and all was silent for two minutes until Armitage whispered, “Do you think they’ll forgive me when I tell them what I was?”

Rose reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Of course they will. They’ll be the best of us.”

————————————————————————————

After that, Armitage was much more open about his fears and insecurities, which only served to strengthen the relationship of the parents-to-be, and all too soon, Rose went into labor.

“I’m going to kriffing kill you, Armitage, you’ll never touch me again!” Rose screamed as she clutched his hand from her contractions.

“Of course, my dear, if that’s what you wish,” he calmly replied, ignoring the grinding of his bones as she held his hand.

“Almost there, Rose, just one more push!” Dr. Ropero exclaimed.

“You said that ten pushes ago!”

Dr. Ropero replied, “This is it, just one more, I promise.”

Rose gasped, lying back on the pillows trying to catch her breath, her energy spent. “I — I don’t know if I can do this, Armie, I can’t —“

“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice taking on the stern authority he used as the General. “You can, and you will. Because even when it all seems hopeless, you still keep fighting. Have you forgotten what happened on the Supremacy? I swear, you left a scar. It’s here somewhere on this hand you’re holding. You will fight, Rose Tico-Hux, and you know why? Because you’re a Rebel, and Rebels don’t give up. Now fight!”

Rose inhaled, and bore down, shouting.

“Yes, yes, just a little more, Rose, that’s it,” Dr. Ropero encouraged.

With a final scream, their child came wailing into the world. “You have a daughter!” Dr. Ropero joyfully announced.

“A daughter?” Rose whispered, while Armitage watched, stunned, as their now-clean child was soon handed to the new mother. “She’s so beautiful,” she murmured almost reverently, caressing the red-brown fluff on their daughter’s head. “What should we name her?” Rose asked, looking up at her awe-struck husband.

“How does Thanya Paige sound?”

Rose gasped, saying, “Are you sure?”

“Never been surer of anything in my life, other than loving you.”

————————————————————————————

Aisling came into the room after Dr. Ropero and his nurse left the house, having arrived on Tareth a week ago, not wanting to miss her grandchild’s birth. “How are we doing,” she grinned, treading softly.

“Wonderful,” Rose grinned, “would you like to hold your granddaughter?”

“Oh, can I?”

“Of course.”

“What’s her name?”

“Thanya Paige, after my mother and sister.” 

“That’s beautiful, my dear. Oh,” Aisling exclaimed, as Thanya was placed in her arms, “She’s a beautiful child!“

All through this, Armitage was silent, wondering how all this was possible. Just when he thought he couldn’t love anymore, he went and proved himself wrong. This day was yet more evidence of this. His love had multiplied, not halved, and he had a feeling this was only the beginning.

————————————————————————————

“And now you know the whole story, Than. I hope you can forgive me.” Armitage had finished relating the story of his life before Rose to his fourteen year old daughter. He was bracing himself for rejection and so much worse.

The lengthy silence was torture. Thanya was looking out towards the distant hills, a blank look on her face. He sighed, moving to stand from where they were sitting on the ground, his old bones protesting the motion, to give his daughter some space, when her hand shot out, halting his movements. He turned to her.

“You did horrible, terrible things, Dad. There’s no denying it. But you’re different now. You’re sorry, sorry for all the harm you caused. That’s what counts, and that you live the rest of your life as a good person. Which you have. You’ve been an amazing husband to Mom, and a really, really great dad. But if it makes you feel better, I forgive you, Dad.” And with that, she hugged him.

Tears springing to his eyes, he returned his daughter’s embrace. He was right, all those years ago. His love had multiplied yet again.

The End.

Arkanish (Irish) Glossary

A Stór: my treasure (pronounced uh STORE) [usually used to express affectionate friendship, especially for parent and children relationships.]

Mo leanbh: (pronounced muh LAN-uv) [literally means “my child.” Affectionate term of endearment.]

Is aoibhinn liom tú: (pronounced iss even lum too) [literally translates to “you delight me”, but is an affectionate way of saying “I love you”.]

Máthair: (pronounced mahTHer) [means Mother]

Again, google translate and various websites helped me here, so if this wrong, Irish speaking people, please, please do not hesitate to correct me.

#star wars #star wars au #star wars au fic #gingerrose #gingerrose fic #general hux #armitage hux #rose tico #The Peace of Love #i cant stop writing these two

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danyka-fendyr · 4 years

Text

Bartender

Okay so I promised @faintrecognition I would write this like a month ago and then I proceeded to grapple with various plot ideas, start then restart, and just generally procrastinate. This isn’t edited but at least it exists. Anyway, here’s a Reylo AU fic. Enjoy!

Taglist:@rhabakoli @dreamwritesimagines @alwaysadreamingoptimist

Wordcount: 1686

Warnings: Some mild language. Barely even there tbh, and I wouldn’t count it.

Rey had no great love for her job as a bartender. It was not, by any means, the most rewarding of jobs. Mostly it involved men unsubtly checking her out, trying to use her as a therapist like they were tipping her well enough for that, or getting drunk enough that they tried to destroy the bar she worked in, prompting her to take several self-defense classes after first getting this job. As it turns out, pool sticks can be wielded as bow staffs with some level of effectiveness.

However, her status as a bartender was largely non-negotiable thanks to her deadbeat absentee’s parents heavy debt. They might as well have sold her into slavery when they got themselves in debt up to their shoulders then up and died. Since before she could remember, Rey had been working to pay that money off, and bartending tipped very well, so here she was.

She figured the second oldest profession in the world had to be better than the first. Right?

All of which brought her to this moment, holding the wallet of a man who was long gone, left in the pocket of what seemed to be a very expensive blazer, displaying the name “Ben Skywalker.” Which could only mean one thing. One thing that was hopefully not going to cause a lot of trouble in Rey’s life but probably was.

She was holding the wallet of Senator Leia Skywalker’s only son, and she was going to have to contact him to give him back his credit card. Somehow she doubted there was going to be a reward for this. The only reward Rey had in store for the night involved wiping down the sticky counters of the empty bar and seeing if she could fix the perpetually blinking second L in the sign outside, which currently read “The Mil_ennium Falcon.” She had mostly given up on it, but the owner had promised her a bonus if she figured it out before he had to break down and call a repairman, so she had hit the wormhole of YouTube home improvement videos yet again.

She sighed, deciding that the best option for her tonight was to call now and see if he even picked up just to get it over with. She doubted he would and, if she was being honest, sincerely hoped he didn’t. The last thing she needed tonight was to deal with some arrogant jerk. Even if his ID picture was handsome.

While she wasn’t a fan of looking through people’s stuff, she didn’t hesitate to delve through his wallet until she found the business cards she knew would be in there. Rich people and socialites. So predictable.

She dialed the number from the bar’s phone, since she firmly classed this as a work problem. She was still on the clock and had to deal with it? Then it was a work problem. She waited several rings, patiently resigned to when it would tell her to leave a message. But that did not happen.

“Hello?” A low, tired voice answered.

Rey realized with a start that there was a very high chance that this was the voice of Ben Skywalker. Of course, it could be the voice of anyone. An assistant, a secretary. However, she was pretty sure she’d seen him in an interview on TV once, and he sounded something like exactly this.

She was absolutely unprepared for this.

“Hey, so uh…it’s your bartender. From The Millennium Falcon.” Get to the point Rey, before he hangs up on you. “Just calling to let you know you left your credit card here. And also your entire wallet. And a blazer. It’s a very nice blazer. Was it tailored? Because it looks tailored. Really nice work.”

Oh gosh. She sounded like an idiot. She hadn’t had time to script this!

Thankfully, he seemed amused by her little ramble.

“I’ll make sure to tell Finn you like his handiwork.” He chuckled, a sound that should not have seemed so velvet smooth over the crackling of the phoneline. “I’ll be there to pick it up in 20.”

That was the second time this man had thrown Rey for a loop tonight, and she had to make an actual effort not to scream.

“Oh, you really don’t have to. You can just come in tomorrow and get it.”

“No, it’s alright. You guys aren’t finished closing yet, are you?”

Rey looked around at the true mess surrounding her, knowing that it would take her hours to clean this since her boss refused to hire on any extra help, and gave in.

“No, we’re not finished closing. You can come now, if that works for you. Just knock three times and I’ll come unlock the door for you.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

She would have replied with the same, but he hung up on her before she could. Rude.

While she waited for him to arrive, Rey took to doing her actual job. Wiping down and sanitizing counters, tables and chairs, sweeping up the floors, and generally putting elbow grease into every flat surface of the establishment. The entire time she was waiting anxiously for his knock, so when it came she didn’t hesitate to go check to make sure it was him and then open the door.

“Hi. Your wallet is on the counter.”

Belatedly realizing how short that must have sounded, Rey mustered up a tired smile before turning back to her work. There was a particularly bad spot at this one table she just couldn’t seem to get out, and she was thinking about taking some grease remover to it to see if that helped.

“Are you cleaning up here all by yourself?”

Rey looked up at him, surprised at the attempt at conversation, and got her first real good look at him. He was tall. As in, possibly part giant kind of tall. He stood several heads above her, an imposing presence with his dark eyes and long hair framing his face. If she had been a lesser woman or seen fewer unfortunate twists of fate in her life, she might have been intimidated by him. As it was, she was just trying not to think that he looked a little bit sexy.

What? She was only human.

“Uh, yeah.”

Good work Rey. Truly, a riveting conversationalist. Your communications professor would be so proud.

“Coworker call out sick?” He rumbled.

“No.” Might as well answer honestly since she wasn’t going to see him again. “I don’t have a coworker. My boss is cheap and I owe him too much money to discriminate.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How’d a girl your age get in so much debt?”

She bristled at that.

“I’m not a child,” she said. “And to answer your question, it’s not my debt. It’s my parents. They left it to me as an inheritance. I suspect you know a thing or two about those?”

He scoffed.

“You could say that. When did they die?”

“I was just a little kid. Don’t really remember it much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not your fault, is it?”

She gives up on the spot on the table and instead goes for the broom perched against the wall. Unfortunately, this takes her path right past Ben Skywalker, who takes this as encouragement to talk to her more.

“So if you’re so strapped for cash, how do I know you didn’t rob me blind?” His tone is only half-joking.

“You don’t. I suggest you check your wallet.”

He did just that and seemed to find everything to his satisfaction as he nodded his head and slipped it back into the pocket of his coat.

“Let me get this straight. You work for the guy you’re in debt too? How do you know he’s not rigging it? Messing up your payments so you owe him longer?”

Rey didn’t dignify that with a true answer, only a withering glance in his direction.

“Oh. He is. Then why do you still work here?”

He sounded genuinely confused, enough for Rey to take pity on him and provide a verbal answer.

“Because he owns me, pretty boy.”

He seemed greatly amused and surprised by her use of the nickname, the corner of his mouth turning up involuntarily.

“Okay, well I could own him.”

Rey was confused by his bragging. Sure. Of course he could own him. He could probably own anything he wanted, given who his parents were.

“Good for you.”

She gave an unenthusiastic fist-pump, which only served to amuse him further.

“And if I own him, then it stands to reason I also own everything he owns.”

Rey came to understand what she thought to be his meaning slowly.

“So me. You would own me.”

She grits her teeth, trying to hold back several cuss words. This arrogant, scheming bastard. Thinking he could just buy her like one of his infamous model dates, maybe swing her around to a few charity galas before he got bored and she was used up.

“Well yes, but also no. I would own you briefly before absolving you of your nonsensical debt. The sins of the father, after all, should not be the sins of the son.”

Rey felt the deep-set urge to take back everything she had ever thought about him and apologize profusely.

“Why…why would you do that?”

“Honestly? You’re the first person I’ve met in a while who hasn’t tried to kiss up to me. I was hoping to offer you a new, better job, where nobody would cheat you out of your money. How do you feel about being my…advisor, I guess?”

Rey stared at him in shock. There was just no way this was happening.

“There would be health benefits,” he said by way of reassuring her. “Dental and all that.”

Dental. He thought she was worrying about her freaking teeth.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be your advisor.”

“Excellent. I’ll inform my assistant, Hux. Can you start tomorrow?”

“I…”

“You’ll be free tomorrow,” he said.

She knew he didn’t mean she would have enough time.

“Yeah. Yeah I can start tomorrow.”

#reylo #ben solo #ben skywalker #rey #star wars #rise of skywalker #reylo fic #reylo oneshot #kylo ren

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fire-bear · 4 years

Text

I have had a really eventful week - so much so that I lost track of days at the start of the week... Here are some things that happened (mostly unrelated to Covid-19):

I went to the theatre last Saturday to see Curtains (before Scotland/the UK banned gatherings over 500) which is really good and people should go see it in, like, 6 months when we can go out again.

That same day I drove over a massive pothole - like, it was a huge square in the middle of the road that I didn’t register as a problem (I think I thought it was a patch of road that had been dug up and covered over) until the last second. This resulted in...

Discovering that I had a slow puncture exactly a week ago (confirmed by my more knowledgeable sister when we went to a farm café along the road from us for a get together) and had to go buy a pump to pump it up as the garage my mum suggested wasn’t open on a Sunday. So I decided to go up early on Monday morning when...

My mum discovered that our washing machine had decided to pack it in - it’s been playing up for a while, but it wouldn’t stop (it had 1 minute to go! according to it) and wouldn’t open to get the clothes out. So when we went to the garage (who asked me to come in the next day to get it sorted) we also stopped at Argos to get a new washing machine - it’ll be delivered this coming Thursday... I hope. In the meantime, handwashing it is! And also using the washing machines at the Gulf petrol station nearby.

Got my tyre replaced.

On the Monday, my mum had to get my Grandpa to come over to help disconnect it (he’s 69 so it’s okay!) but when he reconnected it he had some trouble and accidentally pulled the pipe out of the other one it was connected to in the cupboard under the stairs. When my mum started to move stuff to get the things she’d arranged an uplift for (we’ve been meaning to do it for ages), she discovered that the carpet in the hall was soaked because any time we used the kitchen sink there was water going everywhere. Cue using a basin and then crossing the road to throw it down the drain because the one at our front door was covered with all the stuff getting uplifted.

Monday evening is when my mum found out that she needs to socially distance/self isolate/stay at home - she’s an at risk person cause she gets the flu jab for underlying health conditions so she’s been doing housework and reading books and she’s gonna be bored in a couple of weeks.

Started cleaning everything at work because they gave us stuff and they had notices up saying we were gonna do it more and no-one else seemed to be doing it. This was both good and bad - I have a very mild dermatitis which is exacerbated by heat and certain soaps/cleaning products. And also by washing my hands too much. So...

When they put up a sign in work on, like, Thursday, about gloves, I asked about it when they talked to us about what was going to happen. (We get paid for the first couple of weeks at our normal rate as if we were actually working and then get sick pay. Plus company sick pay but I think that’s only if you’ve been with the company since 2012 and I’ve only been there since 2016 so...)

People at work kept going on about big announcements and then watching it on their phones, hoping they were saying they were closing the shops (because it makes sense and because it’s been so quiet that we had nothing much to do) - and then nothing happened.

On Friday morning, I went to run errands for my mum and couldn’t get out of the parking space in the way I wanted to because of the van parked across the road from me and the angle. I ended up scraping the car beside me and I only found out because of some old guy. I still have the P plates on and he helpfully said, “You need to go back and pass your test again.” I bet that guy doesn’t drive so... Urgh. Also, like, I was worried about it and decided to leave a note with my name and number (still no call about it, though) and the guy was all, “Just leave it. I would just leave it.” Why did you stop me to tell me about it, then??

Drove to and fro across town yesterday doing the shopping - and also looking to see if anywhere had toilet paper. Thankfully, my sister shops at Costco sometimes and she’d gotten a lot from one of their deals or something a while back so she gave us some today so we don’t need to worry about that for a couple of weeks. And our local village shop has industrial toilet roll for sale if we’re struggling so that’s cool.

Got called today about how the chain of shops I work in is closing all its shops in the UK (already closed them in other countries) so I can get stuff done at home now. (Such as rearranging my room and stuff.)

#things

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humanspacesuits-blog · 4 years

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How To Treat Infectious Diseases: OZONE

Wondering how you can treat and even prevent communicable diseases?

Today’s medicine you should always have in your cabinet is: Ozone.

If you knew of a molecular compound that was anti-inflammatory, an anti-oxidant, an antitbiotic, boosts the immune system, boosts the gut microbiome, boosts the metabolism, aids proper circulation of the blood, increases cognitive function, increases stem cell production and tissue reparation, provides food/energy for every cell in the body, repairs the endocrine system, heals nearly all infections, heals a variety of illnesses, relieves a variety of ailments, and more...would you use it? Most notably in today’s topic at hand, it is scientifically proven to be an extremely efficacious treatment against all bacterias, fungi, viruses, yeasts, and protozoas, including antibiotic resistant infections.

This compound is O3 (a compound of three oxygen molecules,) or ozone. We usually find oxygen compounds with just one or two oxygen molecules like carbon monoxide, CO, and hydrogen dioxide, H2O, because O3 is incredibly unstable and readily parts with its extra oxygen molecule, eliminating free radicals as it absorbs into the bloodstream. This means ozone is a highly reactive and extremely fast acting medicine. Ozone therapies available for your medicine cabinet come in two methods of delivery: ozonated oils and ozonated water. (There are more ways for administering ozone therapy but if you want to look into them, make sure you have a quality medical provider on board with your journey and the advanced therapy’s administration.) Using ozone is easy, affordable, safe, and error proof, without the laundry list of side effects and unavoidable mutations that pharmaceuticals cause. If you’re only able to afford one tool in your medicine cabinet, this is The One.

“Starting from the demonstrated evidence that our immune system produces O3 by antibodies to dispatch their bactericidal activity, it is clear the importance of its anti-pathogen role against bacteria (both Gram-positive and Gram-negative), fungi, virus, yeast and protozoa. In bacteria, O3 disrupts the integrity of the bacterial cell wall through oxidation of phospholipids and lipoproteins. As this occurs, the stability of the bacterial cell envelope is attenuated. In fungi, O3 inhibits their growth interacting in the same way as bacteria. In viruses, O3 damages the viral capsid and breaks the reproductive cycle by disrupting the contact between the virus and the cell through the process of peroxidation. The cells vulnerable to the invasion of viruses are coated with weak enzymes, susceptible to oxidation and can be eliminated from the body when interacting with O3.”

This excerpt is from a great study that was just published a few days ago, I highly recommend you read it for a full overview of what all ozone does.

Ozonated water is arguably the best form of delivery for most treatments. You can buy an affordable, quality, small machine online. Our ozone generator has supplied my family with years of medicine and clean water/air for less than $75. Get one! Making the water is as simple as plugging the machine in, putting the diffuser stone into a glass or jug of cold water, and selecting the time setting needed. (For my generator) two minutes will get you a glass of ozonated water, thirty will get you a gallon. You can then drink this water, apply it to or soak a target area, clean and sterilize objects, apply it to burns and cuts, treat plants with it, treat animals with it, use it on your hair, soak your produce in it, and more.

I have this ozone generator.

Ozonated water alone is sufficient to kill almost all pathogens after 30 seconds. In a world of constantly developing infectious diseases, noninfectious diseases, antibiotic resistant infections, and antimicrobial resistant infections, ozone is an irreplaceable tool. What is more accepted and utilized in the body than water and oxygen? Utilizing O3 in the body is the natural aid for reparations. There are nearly no known side effects from use of ozonated water and it does not damage most anything else that isn’t damaged by water, either.

Putting this in a real life perspective: when you go to the doctor for a Staph or MRSA infection, they will prescribe you an antibiotic to take for 30 days. The CDC recommends antibiotics that in over a handful of options, no more than 87% efficacy is expected. These antibiotics also have a long list of side effects and are perpetuating the issue of Antibiotic Resistant Threats. When I got a staph infection, the doctor prescribed me a bottle of pills for me to take one a day for the next 30 days, and if it didn’t work, I should come back and get more. Ozonated water is clinically proven to heal staph infections in 60 seconds. I was camping at the time and used ozonated oil. Ozonated oil is clinically proven to heal staph infections in 15 minutes. My large infection in several different areas was entirely cleared up in 3 days of bi-daily ozonated olive oil application, maybe a total of 1/2 teaspoon used and my skin looked better than before I got the infection even.

Ozonated oils are good to keep on hand in cases such as camping and on-the-go when you don’t want to (or can’t) prepare ozonated water. Yes, there are machines that you could buy to ozonate your own oil but quality machines cost several thousands of dollars and until you’re fully familiar with this medicine, its probably easiest to just buy a jar of ozonated oil from a quality supplier. Smaller machines (like the one I have) are technically able to ozonate oil but in order to get the concentration we’re seeking, they would be heavily overworked even just to get close. I can’t emphasize enough how important sourcing integrity is for ozonated oils - you don’t want to be paying for diluted ozone masking as miracle products (ozone is a superior product in itself, additives cheapen it) and you don’t want to be paying for unsaturated/partially ozonated oils (a red flag for this poor quality is when a company lists how long their oils are ozonated for.) A good company to avoid is Ozoned Organics.

I use this ozonated olive oil, ozonated coconut oil, ozonated castor oil, and ozonated hemp oil.

The different oils used do make a difference in how saturated the ozone is, so sensitivities should be taken into consideration when using different strengths. Ozonated hempseed oil has the highest level of saturation/strength so I like to consider it for use as a very specific as need basis. Ozonated coconut oil has the lowest level of saturation/strength so I like to consider it great for nearly anything, especially with small children/babies, the elderly, and sensitive parts like the genitals - keep in mind coconut oil is also the most agreeable flavor for oral use or ingestion. Ozonated olive oil is a good “medium” level of saturation/strength so I like to consider it my basic go-to and you’ll find our family using it daily, which is great because a 2oz jar still always lasts us longer than a month. You can also use specific oils for their individual benefits, such as castor oil is great for hair and jojoba oil is great for skin.

A couple of things to pay attention to when you’re first using ozone internally is that you may experience parasite die-off, which is never fun for anyone. Thankfully, parasite die-off from ozonated water is generally very brief and lasts about 15-30 minutes after your first glass of water and doesn’t happen again. So actually this is a great option, in my opinion, and I would recommend using ozonated water to boost any other parasite cleanse treatment! The parasite die-off from ozonated oil is different and the headaches in particular can last longer and continue with continued use until the parasites in your body are entirely dead/removed. After your initial use, you’ll notice fairly immediate effects of die-off if you are going to have them. Your reaction will correspond with the location of the parasites; if you have parasites in your intestines, you will vomit; if you have parasites in your colon, you will have diaherria, if you have parasites in your brain, you will have a headache. Again, these are usually mild and brief, but its still good to be aware of so you can properly prepare and have some time set aside in a comfortable place before the first time you ingest ozone.

Another note is that yes, this ozone is the same as what is surrounding our planet and yes, it is not safe for us to breathe as a gas. When you’re using a machine, you want to set it up in a room that you can leave while the machine is running. The escaping gases will clean the air in your room, so this is particularly beneficial for those of us with sensitive respiratory systems. I like to have a more permanent ozonation station setup in the bathroom but also an easy station to setup in every room - ozone is way better at making a room fresh than aerosol sprays, wax melts, essential oils, and the like.

On the other hand, ozonated oil is extremely beneficial to breathe. One of the easiest ways to achieve this is by applying ozone along and into the nostrils. A quick swirl around and into the nostrils will instantly aid with most breathing related stresses. You might have ozone boogers for a while, which is just a sign that you’re receiving residual benefits. As an asthmatic, I use this to help stop wheezing and whenever there is wildfire smoke or poor air quality where I am. We also apply this to our noses anytime we’re feeling in the slightest bit sick as well as whenever we know our breathing could use a little boost, like when its particularly cold out or if we’re adventuring in higher elevations. Its also really fantastic to put on before exercising, stretching, or meditating.

I like to oil pull with ozonated oil and brush my teeth with ozonated water (making sure to spit it out afterwards so all of the inactivated gunk goes down the drain instead of into your body, and into the trash can if using oil so it doesn’t clog up the drains.) I like to soak my produce in ozonated water for 30 minutes to remove any residues, kill any pathogens, and better preserve the produce so they last longer before going bad. I like to clean with ozonated water, and am constantly amazed at how ozonated water will lift stains like a fake commercial. I like to use ozonated oil on wood products that require oil treatments like cutting boards, wooden utensils, and handmade goodies. I like to pour ozonated water in my hair during a shower and use ozonated oil as a regular treatment on all hair (including my pits!) I like to use ozonated water as a genital rinse for adults/children for any sort of funk going on down under, and ozonated oil is a great diaper rash or genital ointment for any use. I like to fill up a sprayer with ozonated water and spray down plants just once right before they transition from the vegetative state to the fruiting/flowering state to ensure the plants are healthy and able to easily achieve maximum production. I like to soak my medical equipment (i.e. my nebulizer parts) in ozonated water for 30 minutes. I like to apply ozonated oil onto any cuts or scars I have to watch them disappear after a handful of applications (this includes stretch marks!) I have gotten chronic stress rashes since I was a child that have never been treatable for me but now I like to use ozonated oil any time I have any sort of rash and it is always cleared up within a few days - its actually recommended to use ozonated oil to treat adverse reactions from pharmaceuticals even.

Whenever I hear of an ailment, my first thought is “does ozone help that?” Most of the time, it does, and it is always the answer when considering any of the communicable diseases. You can know, with confidence based on published and peer reviewed unbiased science, that any of the fad diseases projected by the media or the CDC are treatable with ozone. You can assume that after 1 minute under ozonated water a target area will be disinfected - shoot for a 30 minute soak and you’re invoking some of the most the powerful self care possible. You can assume that after 30 minutes under ozonated oil a target area will be disinfected - shoot for applying a thin layer of ozonated oil two or three times a day (or anytime a target area feels dried, itchy, or uncomfortable) until all signs of infection are gone. Pay attention! You will likely be able to see this stuff working before your eyes. I kid you not that you can be bleeding, apply this stuff, and watch yourself not only stop bleeding but the red blood cells get reabsorbed into your circulating bloodstream. This is scientifically demonstrated! Its phenomenal and you can rest assured your family’s health is protected as long as you have ozone on hand.

We also drink ozonated water daily, anywhere from a glass to a gallon or more per person depending on how we’re feeling and what’s going on with us. The most exciting part of drinking ozonated water is the burps as you can literally feel your body breathing from the inside out, almost like a fish, as the extra oxygen is expressed through your lungs. You’ll enjoy knowing your immune system has an extra strength booster that is entirely beneficial for your body. Ozone is safe for you, safe for your children, safe for your pets, safe for your neighbors. It’d be a shame for the CDC and the pharmaceutical industry to lose all the money they make off the general public from all of their drug sales but give yourself the power of your health back and start using ozonated water and ozonated oils. You can easily achieve medical independency regarding infectious diseases and much more.

Don’t take my word for it! I do have anecdotal experience to share my own personal experiences that myself, my family, and my friends have had but I am not a doctor and I cannot legally provide you medical advice. Check out these published medical studies, learn up on the subject until you have a good understanding of the full concept of ozone, and then do further independent research of your own. I’d love to hear what you think if you do try ozonated water and/or oil out, what your experiences have been if you already use it, if you have any questions before you try it out, and if you have anything at all to add to this discussion!

Until next time, find me in the moon, fellow time traveler.

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/31982474 “Molecular mechanisms in cognitive frailty: potential therapeutic targets for oxygen-ozone treatment” Scassellati C, Ciani M, Galoforo AC, Zanardini R, Bonvicini C, Geroldi C. Mech Ageing Dev. 2020 March

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20802424 “Antimicrobial activity of ozonated water” Białoszewski D, Bocian E, Bukowska B, Czajkowska M, Sokół-Leszczyńska B, Tyski S. Med Sci Monit. 2010 September

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/31986325 “Topical Ozone Therapy Restores Microbiome Diversity in Atopic Dermatitis” Zeng J, Dou J, Gao L, Xiang Y, Huang J, Ding S, Chen J, Zeng Q, Luo Z, Tan W, Lu J. Int Immunopharmacol. 2020 March

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/29207120 “The Antibacterial Effect of Topical Ozone on the Treatment of MRSA Skin Infection” Song M, Zeng Q, Xiang Y, Gao L, Huang J, Huang J, Wu K, Lu J Mol Med Rep. 2018 February

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/23579036 “Topical ozonated oil versus hyaluronic gel for the treatment of partial- to full-thickness second-degree burns: A prospective, comparative, single-blind, nonrandomized, control clinical trial.” Campanati A, De Blasio S, Giuliano A, Ganzetti G, Giuliodori K, Pecora T, Consales V, Minnetti I, Offidani A. Burns. 2013 September

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/30925969 “Oxidizing Effect of Ozonated-Water on Microbial Balance in the Oral Ecosystem” Razak FA, Musa MY, Abusin HAM, Salleh NM J Coll Physicians Surg Pak. 2019 April

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/32024131 “Spraying Ozonated Water on Bobal Grapevines: Effect on Wine Quality” Campayo A, Serrano de la Hoz K, García-Martínez MM, Salinas MR, Alonso GL. Biomolecules. 2020 February

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/30996448 “Application of an environmentally friendly preventive measure for the preservation of fresh vegetables” Paulikienė S, Raila A, Žvirdauskienė R, Zvicevičius E. J Food Sci Technol. 2019 April

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/30896566 “Effect of ozonated water on normal vaginal micro ecology and Lactobacillus” Zhang QQ, Zhang L, Liu Y, Wang Y, Chen R, Huang ZY, Lyu T, Liao QP. Chin Med J (Engl). 2019 May

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