#when was the last time i had a fresh vegetable. i dont want to think about it

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

To the anon that wants to devour a whole bag of lettuce, DO IT! If it’s iceberg it’s the best thing ever you’ll feel so refreshed not even lying. I’ve eaten 3. +a whole veggie platter by myself because people at holiday parties don’t like vegetables for some reason. Eat that bag of lettuce! Now!

you are SO real for this! i once devoured an entire head of iceberg lettuce with my bare hands in a single sitting and i never felt more alive

#oh oh but its so much better with some ranch to dip it in... #FRESH VEGETABLES WITH RANCH IS BETTER THAN CRACK TRUST ME ON THIS #ok dont trust me on this ive never done crack #BUT ITS REALLY FUCKIN GOOD #tasty! Refreshing! primal! #vegetables are so good theyre soooo good theyre Divine #what i wouldnt give for some crisp Leaves and Cauliflower #crunch crunch crunch... #rambles from the bog #when was the last time i had a fresh vegetable. i dont want to think about it #my body... its withering... i need crunchy freshes.... #oh now im sad. i wont be able to taste it. FUCK

[newfallstrangeleaves]

Yandere in the apocalypse

Strawberries

M!Yandere X GN!reader Warning: stalking, mentions of killing. Summary: Continuation of the nightly visit story. The world has ended but that doesn't stop your yandere to prove (to nobody other than himself) that he can give you anything. He goes out of his way to get you something you want but things don't go as planned. Author's note: It was really nice to see the first part (and my first post) being so well received. Really thank you!!

Never will he be far behind. Always in the shadows watching over you. He truly is your guardian angel, undefeated protector, perfect boyfriend…

Though in a perfect world he would be close to you, show you how good he is to you.  But because of the friends of yours most of the time Aaron has to go unnoticed. But the times he does get close, he cherishes. 

The weather is nice and Aaron has spent the last 4 hours in a tree. Your group has made the decision to leave the city and head out into the wild. A decision he doesn't exactly agree with, for many reasons. Though your group has decided upon two night watchers now he dont believe for a second they could do a better job than him. 

Half of the group has split up from camp and gone out to look for food. You sit together with a girl with dark braids and a blond girl, who looks to be in need of a shower soon. The boy is there too, blissfully unaware of his surroundings and listening in on the conversation. 

“I LOVED to eat Moules frits, I could eat a whole bucket of those things.” The blond girl says. 

"Oh, you snob!” The braided girl exclaims. “Can you say something normal like a burger?” 

“But what is so weird about Moules frits? It's just Oysters and Fries! The blond pouts. 

“Wrong! It's Clams not Oysters, you idiot.” 

"You seem to know an awful lot about Moles frits, huh? Y/N, who do you think the real posh one is?” The blond looks over at you who throughout this whole conversation has just been smiling at the bickering. 

“Donno, seems like a tie, or what do you think Max?” You turn over to the boy who nods eagerly. You and Max exchange a look as the blond one rolls her eyes over dramatically, but the action prones a laugh out of the three of you. 

“What foods do you miss, Y/N?” Max asks when the laughing has died down. You think for a moment. 

“Well, not the canned potatoes that's for sure, or any other canned foods for that matter. I miss fresh ones, oh I know, I miss Strawberries!” You say. “And actually at this point I would be happy to have any shape, dried or fresh doesn't matter.” 

“Me too.” A voice from the bushes makes everyone jump.

Even Aaron is about to fall out of the tree. But when the other half of the group returns he swears over himself over the lack of awareness. But the conversation had made him think. If his love wants strawberries then she shall have strawberries. 

When night comes he sneaks down from his hideout. A week ago they passed a small community, odd people and overly religious. They had only really gotten a picture of them though three men who were out looking for a friend of theirs. The men had invited them back to their community but luckily your group had declined the offer. Good thing your group had caught their off vibes too and decided not to risk it. But when the both of your groups had parted ways and one of the men decided to turn back to you,  Aaron felt nothing good would come with a second encounter. So the man was killed and buried before sunrise. By then the group was up and away. 

But the men at the time had mentioned a garden filled with vegetables and fruits. Perhaps a tactic to lure you into their claws. But right now it's his best bet in finding Strawberries. 

Traveling alone ment moving at a much quicker pace. Perhaps he will be back to you in less than a week!

When he arrives he realizes the men weren't lying. If something they were playing it down by a lot.  Aaron could see “the garden” from a mile away by the size of it. The only problem he is facing now is getting in. It is surrounded by a huge fence, barbed wires, then on top of that they have built six hunting towers to guard from any intruders. 

He decides to wait until night time and while doing so he can feel his eyes grow heavier.

He wakes up (all stiff from sleeping in a tree) to the luck of a lifetime. Rockets are firing from the other side of the garden, somebody else is planning to break in too. He brings his handy pocket knife and while the guard's attention is elsewhere he takes the opportunity to run straight for one of the hunting towers. 

He just needs a little bit of luck to not be spotted now. Despite having two hunting towers at each side of him that could easily spot him he hopes their attention stays on the forest for intruders. 

The darkness hides him long enough to cut through the fence. His pocket knife pliers are weak, it takes time to cut through the fence. But not impossible. 

As he works up a hole big enough for him to fit through he can hear the guards discussing, the weak attack was quickly disarmed. But Aaron can sense them being on edge for anything else to happen. 

When he is through it's in and out. Their attention is not on the plantation but he still tries to hide amongst the greenery. It doesn't take long before he finds the red little berries. There are rows upon rows of them. They won't miss a few. When he is done collecting and placing the container back in his backpack, he turns to make his way out again. 

Just as he feels confident he is going to make it without getting spotted he gets just that. Spotted. He crawls through his hole as bullets start raining around him. His only option is to run and find shelter amongst the trees. He sprints as fast as he can, the trees approaching quickly. Just a few more steps. 

Then he feels one of the bullets hitting its target, a sharp pain shoots through his thigh. He lets out a cry of pain but with the adrenaline pumping his veins he doesn't stop. 

He pushes further and further through the forest even though he is not as fast as he would have liked, the people deciding to go after him seems to have given up the chase. Their voices grow more and more distant by the second. 

The following days are hard. He has to stop multiple times to not strain his wound too much. Worry starts to grow more and more each day. As he is slowing down you are walking further and further away. The fear something would have happened to you  while he was away grows stronger by the day. 

When the pain in his leg is unbearable as he is fighting to keep up a good pace he wishes he never left you. What if something has happened to you while he was gone? Why didn't he consider this before he left? How stupid he feels. 

He lets out a sigh of relief when he reaches a small lake and in the distance he can see your figure walking out in the water with your pants rolled up. So peaceful. Finally he can allow himself to rest and to heal. 

Mission accomplished too. He feels pride grow in his chest as he watches you. He can give you something nobody else can. He can't wait for your reaction. A smile only he could give you.

The next morning you wake up and the first thing you see is a small package with a note attached to it. 

“Whatcha got there?” Ginny asks as she frantically tries to brush through her blond curls with her fingers. 

“I don't know. Was here when I woke up.” You turn over the note and read what it says out loud. 

‘Got these for you. 

Until we meet, A.’

“A? There is no one here who starts with A.” Ginny says loudly. A ruckus begins amongst the ones that are awake. Their discussion is loud enough to wake up the rest.  

“What do I do with these?” You ask. 

“Leave them, it's not worth the risk.” Felice says and pulls her braids out from the shirt she just put on. “Come, you go with me from now on.” 

Aaron limps over to the spot you sat at as he is fighting tears. The anger and disappointment bubbling up in his chest. He wishes he could kill them, hurt them as they have hurt him. 

But all he does is pick up the berries. 

He knows revenge will come in due time.

#yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #tw stalking #post apocalyptic #yandere x y/n

[rexaleph]

Havent said anything abt perfume in so long bc ive been uh unwell but im coming out of it again i think.

Im interested in getting into florals, sth i started thinking abt in late spring. I want a green, wet, vegetal flower. Ive been enjoying Sublime Balkiss by the different company, but idk that it isnt too expensive for what it is. Lasts very little and ultimately it is just kinda a friendly fruity floral. sometimes i think that i just need to make life easier for myself and look into womens designer scents, but then i look at the reviews for Sublime Balkiss and people are like sharp green unisex different. And im like ah ok lol. Really interested in exploring tom ford's Vert Boheme, and that whole vert series in general, tho maybe its discontinued? And also fucking tom ford lmao. Fwiw i have actually tried Vert de Fleur during my last attempt at getting into flowers, and its not really it for me, feels like a sun-dried late summer steppe weeds + lipstick, the opposite kinda flowers from what im looking for. Funnily enough a lot of the reviews are calling it dark, fresh and dewy, which just goes to show that none of these words mean anything to me. (Having washed some of it off and waited a couple hours its much less unpleasant but still not what im looking for. dry bouquet herbal soap vibes)

De Profundis remains the untouchable fantasy BUT Amouage Myths woman seems to go to a similar green-earthy-floral well, while Myths man also has chrysanthemum and is supposed to be smoky which is intriguing (tho apparently also features prominent iris and is generally resinous and leathery). So time to reconsider Amouage perhaps. I occasionally revisit the samples i have and still cant really get into them but they are quite different from each other and idk that its their intrinsic dna that i dont get along with. Also given where de profundis comes from ive decided to stop being such a bitch about serge lutens, and maybe look into them for florals.

When i last thought abt perfume a couple months back I was considering making some purchases this autumn as a reward for hopefully defeating work demons, but im actually gonna be spending money on a trip and some things to do w that, which is a lot more valuable than perfume. However now i also want perfume as well. And idk id like to maybe not accumulate a million samples so i ought to go through what i have and really think about the hows and whys of my perfume experience. When i was depressed just now i still wore perfume every day but really didnt engage w the variety i have access to. I dont think i want to be the single signature fragrance person just bc my one perfume would be vierges et toreros and i cant do that to people, certainly not in the middle of summer lmao. But maybe i can have like... 4. Maybe 9. Fwiw i think ive resolved my search around leathers and animalics and am not interested in trying any more after having found my beloved few, even though some are completely inaccessible to me. Maybe i could write sth up about them. What feels very unresolved to me is fruits, my first big unexpected interest in perfume. Ive tried so many and rn i think i dont like any of them! My fucking samples store shopping cart is full of figs aside from flowers but maybe i should really think about whats wrong w the ones i have. I was gonna do a post abt the fruits as well and was reminded of it just now having had a bad time trying to wear Fig Man.

Anyway i dont think ill buy anything for now regardless, thankfully im good at not spending money. But i will try to have my perfume thoughts.

#perfume #unforfortunately i love telling myself to think on sth and then not doing it

[medeirosdjurhuus83]

Getting Of The Male Gender Is Easy, Keeping Your Guy Interested Is Work

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[hansolmates]

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

[songofclarity]

All right! One of my favorite tropes is aranged marriage. So, what about nmj and wrh in an arranged marriage, something of convenience, they dont even expect to like each other... until they do. It starts as partnership, working together about some goal then feelings happen. Feel free to make it au, canon divergence, reincarnation or whatever.

Thank you for the prompt! ❤️ This is just a single, condensed snapshot because I would need several thousand more words to get all that relationship development you describe! Although Poor Nie MingJue might have gotten himself into a mess by honoring this (and the other) forced arrangement lol

I do confess I desperately want to have this in a longer fic, and then also write a dozen more AU that allow me to write variations of post-Sunshot Campaign Ruojue, because Wen RuoHan Survives (But the Wens Still Lose) is quite possibly my favorite Ruojue playground.

☀️ 

Wen RuoHan felt like he was going mad. The wedding was held at dusk and night had long since descended. They should have retired at the end of their bows, like any proper grooms, but there was nothing proper about this and the wedding carried on to the banquet and carried them along as well. And like a ship denied its harbor and forced to carry on at sea, the room swayed and rocked even as the red banners hanging heavily from the ceiling posts held stiff and straight. Perhaps that familiar crimson color should have brought him a sense of calm, but, with the head of the beast looking over his shoulder the whole night through, there was no peace in this strange hall where lights glowed too bright and the guests spoke little to nothing at all.

And there were only a dozen guests. It was a pitiful amount for such a ceremony. It was a shameful amount to what their arrangement had first promised: the union of two great sects beneath the sun. And even with a dozen guests, the hall was as quiet as if they were all in meditation. As quiet as if they were in a tomb.

Now would be the time for wine, but all they had at their shared table was tea and eight plates of dishes including roasted pig, vegetables with sea cucumber, and shark fin soup. They were nowhere close to the ocean and the wedding had been an abrupt affair, but there was an attention to detail that pleased the part of him that wasn't dropping his cup and splashing tea on his wedding robes.

The swaying stopped when a hand grabbed his arm and steadied him.

“Husband,” Wen RuoHan intoned, slowly turning his head to catch the narrowed-eye gaze staring at him. For all of Nie MingJue's faults, wearing red was not one of them--although the uniformity of his red wedding robes, trimmed in gold, was an improvement to when he lied bloody on the floor just weeks before. “What do you think of your wedding?”

The question went ignored as Nie MingJue's large hand went for Wen RuoHan's neck. Wen RuoHan sucked in the single breath that held him back from throwing Nie MingJue across the room. Fingers carefully avoided the skin and only the high collar of his robe was pulled back to expose the bandages underneath. “You're bleeding again,” Nie MingJue said gruffly.

Wen RuoHan let his breath out through loosened lips as the tension left him. The technique Meng Yao had tried to use to take his head was proving difficult to heal from. “Red is an auspicious color,” he said, putting a hand to his neck and applying pressure. It hurt, it ached, but it was not the physical pain that stung the most. “I would make a bad husband if I let you Nie take care of everything, as you have done since my arrival.” Of course the Nie took care of everything. There were no Wen left to lift a hand--or raise a hand to stop them.

“You were the one who asked for this.”

“Five years ago with your elders. We were to have it out front the Sun Palace, at the peak of day.” As if marriage would have fixed the Nie’s anger with him, at least the union might insinuate no more discord between their sects.

That still left the discord with his new husband.

Nie MingJue grimaced and pulled away. “You can forget the Sun Palace.”

It was impossible to forget the Sun Palace, or the last time they were there. Wen RuoHan smiled as something dark uncurled in his chest. “Were you frightened being in my hall? Good.”

“You weren't going to kill me. Or let me die.”

“...You're right. Our contract was not void, but I also would not have married a half-dead man scraped off the floor. Strangely you do not seem to have that reservation.” Wen RuoHan let out a breath of laughter.

“Enough. Get up.” Nie MingJue said lowly, leaving no room for questioning as he started getting to his feet and urged Wen RuoHan to get to his.

But Wen RuoHan was not eager to go, and not just because he wanted to stay in the company of Nie MingJue’s most loyal cultivators and that little brother who spent the whole time pouting.

Wen RuoHan grabbed Nie MingJue’s wrist to stop him. “I notice you only have one brother here, when I hear you now have three.”

It worked. Nie MingJue stopped pulling on him.

“You swore brotherhood with him. Good. I look forward to seeing him again soon.”

��He is on a different path now,” Nie MingJue said wearily. And, curiously, with a lack of conviction. “Leave him be.”

Wen RuoHan laughed again, louder this time, and hissed at the pain in his throat, still fresh. The damp warmth was leaving the bandages and he could feel a trickle under his robes, over his chest. “You are my husband now, sworn to me as well. If one day your third brother crosses my path, you'll have no one but yourself to blame for whatever happens next.”

#asked from above #kitsune1818 #ruojue #nie mingjue #wen ruohan #my writing #arranged marriage au #not a lot of ruojue feeling feels for each other yet in this one #but hopefully it conveys a sense of future promise #and future unity #and all that hurt comfort that brings all my otp together lmao

[vanillatalc]

ok i know i say this every few months so idk why i think this time is any different OR that i need to say it again. but im feeling really frustrated after another shit meal and im just like ARGH

to note, just bc i know ive been exploring the idea of antipsychiatry a lot more publicly over the last i wanna say like 6m or something - i don’t ‘identify’ with OCD as a diagnosis (nor do i think it’s an ‘illness’ per se) but i do think that as communicative shorthand it can be useful for my particular set of problems (rituatlistic thinking, compulsive checking, obsessive thoughts - even the stereotypical germ shit lol). so when im saying ‘my OCD’ im referring to those linked behaviours. i know literally no one asked, but i dont want to seem like internally inconsistent LOL

anyway i just like am so tired of my diet!!!!!!!! it’s so limited and just so fucking disgusting as well. bc of my OCD i cant eat things that i want to eat, like salads and fresh fruits and vegetables. i just CANNOT seem to cross that hurdle of Just Doing It. which i know is literally the only way to get over this shit. like i cant logic myself out of something that is inherently illogical. like, eating an apple! its so simple and i want it so badly, but i just cant do it :( and it upsets me so much! and the food i do end up eating is often just not interesting, not nutritious, not anything. like tonight i juts had a bagel w/ a side of cheese and mayo... like i didnt enjoy it at all bc its fucking gross :\ but im afraid of the frozen veg i keep buying, im afraid of everything ohhh my god :| 

also the whole ‘only drinking diet coke’ thing is still a problem and i want to slap myself so hard. i actually entirely blame pro-ana livejournal for this one but there you go. (i also blame me... :( )

#i just want to eat a pink lady apple #a big juicy one #w/ the nice crisp skins

[palmett-hoes]

Looking through your answers is giving me so much serotonin and validation. THANK YOU. If you dont mind me asking, do you think if Andrew hadn't chosen exy as a career path, him and Kevin would have drifted apart? I assumed they would because I think Kevin struggles to have friends outside of exy? Nora said in the EC that Kevin makes friends with ppl at a dog park (with thea) when hes much older and that it's a big step in recovery? Implying that Kevin doesnt rlly make friends outside of exy

oh nice love that! we're all chasing that sweet, sweet serotonin

---

i actually think that andrew and kevin are quite closely bonded. in fact i honestly think it would have been better for kevin if andrew had quit exy after college and gone on to do his own thing, because it would have FORCED kevin to have a friend outside of exy

and neil and kevin obviously watch each other games and then call each other to break the game down. and neil always makes sure to always watch kevin’s games with andrew around bc he knows that andrew secretly cares, and leaves the call on speaker so andrew can hear kevin’s voice but he doesn’t really say much besides occasionally chiming in to complain about all the exy so

neil being there means that andrew's life would never COMPLETELY separate from exy. he and kevin would always be at most just one degree of separation away from each other even if they never make an effort to speak to each other ever again

kevin would be horrified and possibly somewhat betrayed if andrew chose not to go pro. he would say that andrew was wasting his talents and making the wrong choice, but i also don't think that he would ever abandon andrew completely

so say andrew decides not to go pro

the first year he’d probably live in the house in Columbia so he can stay close to neil, works at eden’s bc he has the connections. kevin would probably be calling him CONSTANTLY to try and guilt/threaten/beg/yell andrew into going pro and even though it’s super annoying (andrew mostly puts the phone down and watches tv during the ranting) kevin will eventually tire himself out and start berating andrew’s future plans like “well what are you planning to do now?” which in kevin kinda translates to “how are you?” so andrew tells him a little bit about the club and the stupid drunk customers and anyone he’s gotten to punch in the last week and how roland and all the other employees kevin sorta got to know over the years are

and they,, kinda just continue like that. once neil goes pro he and andrew move to neil’s new city and rent an apartment together. andrew spends the first year or so unemployed doing whatever he wants bc he has a rich pro athlete bf to pay the bills. and kevin keeps calling to call andrew lazy, and wasting his life not doing anything, so to prove him wrong andrew tells him about the places he goes around the city, the things he’s doing, the stuff he’s trying for the first time, the things he’s buying, the food places where he’s eating, the places he takes neil whenever he’s free

eventually kevin starts to realize that even though he’s been with his pro team for 3 years at that point he doesn’t know shit about his city. so maybe the next time kevin finishes all the exy matches on his dvr instead of starting them all over again or turning on the exy news channel he... goes out for the night, checks out whatever his city’s most accessible tourist landmark is, eats out at a restaurant

then the next time he calls to insult andrew’s life choices, after andrew says “oh i’m wasting my life? just yesterday i won $30 from drinking the most hot sauce in a bar bet” and kevin says “.... i.... tried this indian restaurant downtown last week” and andrew knows kevin never eats anything except skinless chicken breasts and fresh but boiled vegetables. “all those spices didn’t upset your sensitive tummy, day?” but kevin feels good - great, actually - telling andrew about it

not to drag this on any longer but kevin is just too obnoxious and pushy to ever let andrew go completely, and andrew hates exy way too fucking much to cave a single inch to all kevin’s complaining. eventually, years in the future, they even have full conversations about their respective lives without ever mentioning exy once

sure they drift apart somewhat, but drift apart in the way that people do when they grow up and go from seeing each other every day to living in separate cities

#txt #kevin day #andrew minyard #my posts #im talkin #ask #anon #anonymous

[xsugarysweetsx]

Hi, I just stumbled upon your blog and I love it. I dont know if you write for mike zacharias but, if you do. Could you write a Mike and reader living in the woods in a log cabin. Maybe the reader figures out she's newly pregnant?

Hello new bebe! Please enjoy!

This gif was too cool not to use

Mike was the best thing to happen in your life. You were newlyweds that have been married for about 8 months. You have a lovely, quiet home in the woods, not too far from HQ. After marrying you mike wanted to give you a normal life. Even if it was only in that home where you found peace.

Mike has been the best person to you, like he always had been. Making you breakfast, holding you at night, making love to you. Everything seemed perfect. Then you started to get sick. Even your smell changed, he couldn’t pin point it exactly but something was going on

Mike held your hair back as you emptied your stomach of the food you ate. You’ve become so much more sensitive to food and it worries him. He always had fresh vegetables and fruits and lots of water for you but you couldn’t keep it down.

After you were finished, he helped you up and you washed your mouth. Just from that experience you were tired and asked him to take you back to bed. He tucked you in and kissed your head.

“I’m heading to town to get the doctor, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Okay?” He asked you and you nodded with a weak smile. He knew you could defend yourself but he worried about you being alone. He made sure to lock the door and pull the curtains of the windows.

It took about fifteen minutes to the doctors and back. But luckily you were okay, he crouched down to your end side and gently woke you. You crack open your eyes, yawning from your nap

“Hey, the doctor’s here” you wipe your eyes and sit up. The doctor asked for him to leave for a moment so he could examine you. He was a bit impatient when it came to waiting. He walked around, moves some things, sat down, drank some tea.

Did it really take this long? Then the door cracked open and his head shot in the direction. The doctor walked to him and said you were fine and just needed rest, and to eat well.

“But what’s wrong with her?” The doctor simply smiled and said

“Go ask her yourself. I will take my leave” once the door close mike rushed into the room. You say I’m the bed with tear filled eyes. You stared down at the blanket not even noticing mike. He rushed to you and sat in the bed

“What wring love? What did he tell you?” He asked worriedly. Your gaze meets his as you say

“I’m...pregnant” everything went slow the second the words left your mouth.

You were pregnant? With...his and your child? His eyes darted between you and your stomach. He embraces you as silent tears of his own fell

“Thank you...” he sniffed “thank you so much for this” pulling back he wipes your tears and pecks your lips. That afternoon he laid with you in bed talking to your belly, planning names and things. You weren’t even a month in and he was so excited!

....

Through the first 3 months, things weren’t what you thought. Headaches, stomach aches, morning sickness, body aches. You thought your pregnancy was going to be a breezy, well think again!

Luckily for you, Mike was there to help you through everything. Making you teas, giving you massages, cuddles, the whole package. Ugh, what did you do to deserve this man?

....

The 4th and 5th month were probably his favorite stages. Not only did your morning sickness stop but you were now showing. It was all so amazing for him, watching your belly grow with the child you made together. He loved to kiss and cuddle your belly. At night he would rest his cheek against it as he spoke to it

“Hey baby, It’s papa, your mother and I can’t wait for you to get here, but go easy on your mommy in the last few months okay? I love you“ laying kisses to your belly. His favorite way of sleeping was having you face him with his hand on your belly. The other way was your back against his chest as his arm wraps around you protectively. 

....

By the time your due date was coming you were big and ready for it to be over. Sore feet, trouble sleeping and getting up. Mike insisted your rest and do nothing while he did everything. He even had a midwife come tot he house and stay until after the birth. She stayed in a spare room you had until said time.

And it seemed your little one wanted to come in the middle of the night. Especially a night where you were comfortably getting sleep. It started out with light kicks that became uncomfortable. Mike go the midwife to come and check on you. She smiled at you both

“It’s time”

To say you were scared was an understatement. The entire labor process took hours. Sweat, tears, pain, Mike wishes he could take it all away. But you were willing to go through the pain if it meant holding your child.

The actually delivery was exhausting. You had to feel pain during labor and now during delivery?? Each time there was a pain you had to push, and hold the push. All you could do was scream and cry to deal with the pain.

Mike was your pillar of strength, holding your hand, and praising you

“You’re doing so well”

“You’re almost there”

“I’m right here Y/N”

Finally what seemed like hours the baby was finally in the world. Her cries filling the room, making the world stop

“It’s a girl! Congratulations” she said as she handed your newborn baby. She stops crying as soon as you hold her. Mike rests his head on yours looking down at his daughter

“You did so good” he whispered kissing your head. He gently stroked her head, so soft compared to his calloused hands. She had sandy blonde hair, your nose and eyes. You let tears slip filled with so many emotions. You were happy, relived and it all washed over you at once.

“What are we going to name her” he whispered not wanting to wake the sleeping babe. The sun had just come up casting a gentle glow in her adorable face

A smile graced your lips as you know what name you want.

“Dawn” you said gently “her name is Dawn”

I hope this was okay! ❤️

#mike zacharias #attack on titan mike #mike zacharias x reader #attack on titan x reader #anime x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #anime #fanfiction

[chaoticgabby]

My Cheap & Relatively Healthy Grocery List for College Students

Context: I had been used to eating fast food so much because it was cheap that when I went to the doctors' they said I had high glucose content. That wasnt good. So I started eating healthier. Anyway let's skip the BS and get straight into it:

Ramen: the OG cheap food. I personally don't own ramen bc I dont like it that much, but if you want to save money this is the meal, at least add an egg or some veggies to make it healthier.

Frozen Veggies: anywhere from 50 cents to a dollar or two a bag. Can easily be kept in your freezer (if you have one) for months

Mac n' cheese: my all-time favorite. Of course, it might not be healthy for everyone to eat pasta all the time, but I do it anyway. Add some real cheese and spices for taste or chicken and veggies in it / on the side.

Other Pasta boxes (Pasta Roni, Velveeta, Hamburger Helper, etc.): basically as cheap or almost as cheap as Kraft macaroni, but maybe you arent a fan of mac n cheese.

Soup (Soup!!): Cambell's Tomato soup is often $1 a can. I like to eat mine with grilled cheese. Thats a whole ass meal. But of course you can get other soups just as cheap. Basically, any canned foods.

Canned foods & veggies: this one goes without saying. Although, the better options are sometimes $2 to $3 the same can be said for frozen veggies, but just heat these up and cook them in fried rice or just add butter and eat them aside a nice entré

Chunk light tuna: speaking of canned foods, canned tuna is soooo cheap and is a great option (if you even like tuna). Dont actually get the "pack tuna" for $1 a pack unless you want to keep it in your bag bc canned tuna is around 60 cents a can. Mix it with Miracle Whip (or mayo) and spread it over break for a good sammich.

Grilled cheese (or cheese toastie if you arent American I think??): similar to previous options, youre getting your cheese and your butter and your bread. Not as healthy as other options but way better than fast food calories.

Quesadillas: similar to grilled cheese, except spICY. My brother only eats these and he has no meal plan. I do it now too. Honestly, adding up tortillas, cheese dip, shredded cheese, & chicken is kind of costly but worth it. Also cooking chicken is annoying bc I dont have time for that. But. Yknow. A great option.

Pillsbury Crescents: a little costly, about $2+ per tube, but still fookin delicious. Also imma be real: actually havent checked the nutrition label to see if these are actually healthy. But these are sO useful. Make them by themselves for breakfast (with jam, eggs, or alone) or use the dough for other recipes. I use these with Manwich sauce, cheese, and ground beef for snacks :)

Manwiches: manwich sauce cans are $1 and although they have some sugar, its not nearly as bad as fast food. Just cook up some ground beef to go with it & maybe add cheese, sliced bread, or hamburger buns

PB&J: Another OG. I could never get tired of these. You just gotta make sure you have soft bread and the pb&j and youre good to go. Although..like.. some people apparently like theirs toasted or with different jams (I like strawberry).

Eggs!!!! : Just keep these in your fridge. Just do it. You never know when youre going to run out of food. Boiled? Scrambled? Fried? Soft boiled? With ramen? Omelet? In fried rice? Egg sandwich??? Eat them with bread, eat them with toast, eat them as a breakfast sandwich, scramble them with cheese, the list goes on. If you dont eat them often, get a smaller carton, but always have eggs! Also, for baking.

Rice, or fried rice: If you like rice, have been cooking rice for a long time, and can actually make it without burning, make sure you have rice. If you like rice but have never actually made it yourself, it takes trial and error in a pot. Or just invest in a rice cooker. Additionally, fried rice is not that difficult to learn & it fits the bill for healthy bc you can add unlimited veggies and meats. Im not here to educated you but the more ingredients, the better, is how i see it.

Fresh Food:

Fruit: I literally have "an apple a day" for breakfast. It's just good for you. Keep them in your fridge to keep them fresh. Keep one in your bag in case you get hungry. Bananas? Awesome! Use them in smoothies or a milkshake or eat them with your cereal or even with peanut butter. Possibilities are endless with fruit. Just make sure they dont spoil. Apples are OG bc they dont spoil as easily.

Vegetables: Make sure to only periodically get them so that they dont go to waste. Make some broccoli with butter & eat it alongside pasta. Or asparagus. Anything you want. Just make sure to have some with your meals sometimes. Greens are good. Additionally, carrots can get addicting if yoh eat them with ranch. The plus side is they are filling. If you have a tendency to want to munch on something: carrots.

Deli Meat / Sandwich Options: I personally dont make deli sandwiches because ham (as well as roast beef or turkey) can be expensive and then wanting to add lettuce and tomato to a sandwich sounds amazing but I'm scared they will spoil. Dont let me stop you though! Sandwiches are amazing.

Meat: you dont want to be cooking meat all the time bc it can get expensive, but the basics I always get are ground beef and chicken. I prefer "boneless skinless chicken thigh fillets" but you would need to cut off the fat. You could always get rotisserie if you arent feeling to for cooking. Also, if you're feeling expensive one week, salmon is just sooo good. I ate it with asparagus and seasoned with lemon. Delicious.

Snack / Dessert Options:

(I personally don't keep snacks or dessert in my home very often bc you dont want to binge eat. But here is what I have)

Peanut butter: classic, filling, can be potentially bad if you eat a shite ton

Nuts: peanuts, almonds, cashews, and especially pecans

Cookies: make your own, a lot of simple cookie recipes exist and it's a lot easier than you think. Baking essentials like flour, sugar, milk, and eggs are not that expensive to keep around in an apartment kitchen. Difficulties may be vanilla extract (the avg student doesnt have this lying around) a baking sheet, a big bowl, and possible a whisk. Store bought cookie dough isnt too bad either.

Box-cakes / box-brownies: simple and easy. Takes a few eggs sometimes and some oil, milk or water. The same goes for pancake mix. Honestly, I had an out-of-country roommate and he had never heard of boxed cake mix or brownie mix. They always made from scratch where he lived.

Low-calorie ice cream: okay ice cream can be pretty expensive and filled w/ added sugars. I used to eat this strawberry icecream sweetened with stevia and it was SO delicious, but I couldnt find that at my grocery store. Other options are "low-calorie" ice cream or "no added sugars" ice cream. I have one of these and the thing abt it is that its just the right amount of sugar to taste like ice cream and the neat thing is that you dont feel like binging it bc it doesnt have addicting added sugars.

Milkshakes / smoothies: this is a tough one bc me and most other students dont own a blender or juicer. I personally get my smoothies from a local smoothie place that only uses fresh fruit and then I ask not to add the natural sugars bc it is sweet enough with the fruit. Natural smoothies are delicious & I find that you can kind of make then if u freeze your fruits and blend w a fork. "Handmade" milkshakes are actually super easy w this method.

Yogurt: just...mmm.

"Healthy" snack food section, often called the gluten-free aisle: im not too experienced with this and im sure they have added sugars too but what I do know is I tried these gluten free oreos once and they were delicious

Fruits: I mentioned earlier but apples are great snacks

Veggies: also like I said earlier, carrots are great snacks. Not exactly a veggie but possibly potatoes for a meal or snack.

Granola Bars: for when youre too lazy to keep up with fruit and if fruit will spoil, granola bars (they healthy kind, not the chewy sugary kind) are so good to have in your pantry or keep in your backpack for a snack (and to keep you from on campus temptations). Also I used Nature Valley ones instead of cereal. They actually dissolve and are delicious with milk, since some cereals are so sugary.

Since my last college tips post got some notes I figured I'd keep writing these advice posts. For reference, I am hoping to become an RA next year at my college, so I'm not just speaking out of my ass. I generally have experience at college thus far and want to help students.

#Im American and Im not Vegan so sorry if this didnt help non americans and definitely not vegans :( #college tips #college advice #life hack #healthy living #food

[katsukikitten]

Meal for one

You groan silently as you slide agaisnt the kitchen counter. The microwaves hum the only sound. Your body screams as you reach for your water and you snarl at the audacity of the bottle to be placed so far away.

Training was getting harder and longer. Especially now that your third year was quickly approaching. Lucky enough to still be with your friends, well more your family now, that was class 1A. You had been late to dinner tonight, well more like every night since your second year ended, you were studying and working your ass off in training to try to keep up with your amazing peers.

One more so than the others. Not that he would notice.

At least not anymore.

You are so lost in thought that it takes you several seconds to realize that the microwave is counting down from five.

You try to catch the microwave just before it ding but sadly the sound seems to echo in the overly sized kitchen as you growl to it to shut the fuck up.

When you remove your meal with unsated anticipation, eager to eat as you haven't had the chance all day. Your stomach growls audibly as you set the burning hot container on the counter.

You pull back the flimsy film all for your mood to sour.

Your little meal for one was cooked far too long, it needed only three minutes but you hit eight by mistake in your haste. And it didnt help that the display on the appliance only half worked.

You stared at the sorry shrivelled up pieces of chicken in the now mushy brocolli and fought back your frustrated, exhausted, borderline giving up on this whole hero thing tears.

All you wanted to do was eat your pathetic meal and get some rest before the new semester started tomorrow.

Was that too much to fucking ask?

The universe seemed to think so.

"Oi." His voice calls behind you and you stiffen.

The voice of the boy, well now becoming man, that you've been avoiding since that accidental and very drunken kiss at the beginning of the summer at that party that Mina just had to fucking have.

"Why are you making so much damn noise? I can hear you all the way in the living room." He growls and you sigh.

The two of you could have been called friends.

ONCE.

But no longer.

Suddenly you're brought back to the party.  The loud music of the memory competes with the heart beat in your head as you see his perfect face.

The room spins, you giggle placing your lips so quickly onto his after confessing.

"I've always wanted to fuck you Katsuki-kun. But not that one and done shit either."

He stiffens beneath your lips, pushing you harshly and you stare at his face.

Contorted in horror and rage.

You really fucked it all up.

You tongue your cheek damning your brain for being such a glutton for punishment.

"Yea yea I know this fucking extra does it all wrong all the time." You bite trying hard to control your voice. You slam your meal into the trash as deep red eyes follow your movements.

"You cooked it to trash it? You idiot." He spits and you grip the counter top to keep yourself from encircling your hands on his throat.

"Yea, that's how I eat now. Burn it to fuck all and then have sleep for dinner." A bitter laugh escapes your lips before your voice betrays you.

You clear your throat, keeping your head down while burning tears spill onto your cheeks as you start to make your way past the muscular hot head. Youd sell a part of your soul to have Toru's quirk right about now.

Sadly you do not and Bakugou grips so tightly onto the crook of your arm you'd think he was apprehending a criminal.

You make the mistake of giving him a harsh glare out of instinct, eyes still rimmed with defeated tears. You watch as his eyes narrow to slits.

As if he could see into that fucked up head of yours.

He pulls you back harshly and slams you against the counter top. The handles to the lower cabinets bite into your ass and you half yelp before gripping onto his arm tightly.

"Bakugou." You growl so lowly you feel him tense, "I'm not in the mood."

"Nether am I." He stares into your soul for a moment more before he lifts you light as a feather onto the countertop, he forces your legs open so his body can fit arms trapping you on either side.

So close that the sides of his thumbs dig into your thick thighs and hips.

He looks you over in your next to nothing training outfit of a sports bra and too tight too short shorts.  He takes silent note of your skin tone and how it is lackluster when normally you glow after a work out. His eyes find the deep bags beneath your own next before he sucks his teeth at how far you've let your body down.

Pushing it to exhaustion and not even fueling it properly.  He butts his forehead to yours angrily and with enough gusto that a bruise begins to form on both yours and his third eye chakra.

"Ow what the fuck?!" You rub at it harshly.

"Dont. Fucking. Move." He says as he backs away, eyes glued to you before he turns his back to rummage in the fridge.

He makes quick work of starting some sort of PROPER meal for you as you sit by the stove top, for once obeying his command.

Though you'd do anything to take back that kiss and have your normal rapport of teasing back. Your blush is delayed as you realize how close he made himself to you, at how close his lips were and you feel the ghost of his thumbs in your hips.

You swallow your desire as his horrified face flashes in your mind. You distract yourself easily as you watch him saute the chicken perfectly slowly adding the vegetables before adding the bean sprouts last. He opens the cabinet to grab a fresh plate only to be greeted by an empty shelf.

"Fucking really?" He hisses staring at the overwhelming pile of dishes in the sink. You begin to ease yourself down from the counter to wash a plate.

It's the least you can do considering he made you a whole damn meal at 1130 at night. Sacrificing his favorite movie for your shitty sake.

Your movement alerts him and he whips his head faster than you've ever seen him before.

"Didn't I tell you not to fucking move?" His expression matches his tone, dark. You hoist yourself back onto the counter  before placing your hands up in surrender.

He grumbles as he cleans and dries your dish and utensils before finally plating the dish with such meticulous detail that it should be served in a restaurant instead of to you. You sigh reaching for the fork and reluctantly take a bite.

You moan from the delicious melding of flavor before your scarf the whole meal down.

You're so absorbed in your meal that you almost forget about Bakugou even as he moves around the kitchen to clean his mess. You dance as you eat, taking bite after mouth watering bite. You pout audibly when your fork scrapes agaisnt an empty dish.

"Heh." The sound pulls you from your bliss and you're met with a staring Bakugou. Suddenly you are hyperaware of the whole situation.

Katsuki didn't cook for anybody and you couldn't remember the last time he had cooked for just you. You shrug it off as you think of something clever.

"So what do I owe you for the meal?" You tease leaning closer to him as he watches you.

"A kiss." He retorts with a cruel smile as you look away.

Cheeks burning with rage and embarrassment.

"I..." You swallow your pride, "I'm sorry okay Bakugou?"

"What?" He snaps.

"I said I was sorry Bakugou don't play deaf."

"Not that." A hiss, "What is my name?"

"Bakugou." You say slowly as if he were dumb to which his eyes narrow.

"Try again, Y/N"

You glare, dumbfounded, you hadn't spoken to him majority of the summer. Hell youd barely been in the same room as him and so suddenly he wants you to say his name?

"Katsuki." You offer dryly after his stare does not let up. He gives you a look as if expecting more. You snarl before biting out.

"Katsuki-kun."

"That's not how you normally say it but I guess I can still reward you." He produces your favorite chocolate, the kind that's hard to find and your eyes widen.

"Ah so I did remember right." He teases as you reach for it. He pushes agaisnt your stomach until you stop leaning on him to get that damn sweet treat.

"Please Katsuki-kun?" You allow that old softness into your voice that you only reserved for him. He stops for a moment, making good work at hiding the heat creeping on his cheeks as a mean smile sets on his kissable lips. He positions himself back between your legs, your knees rest slightly onto his hips.

"Open wide." He says placing a single square onto your outstretched tongue. When you moan from the melting chocolate and close your eyes he bites his lip.

He had almost forgotten all about the sparkle in your eyes, the way your voice said his name like a prayer and the sounds that you made.

He swallows thickly as you hold out your tongue for more.

He pushes thoughts of you like that on your knees away. Biting the inside of his lip and damning you for kissing him that day.

For opening the flood gates on what he was so desperately fighting against.

"This time close your eyes and keep your mouth shut."

"Why?"

"Just do it." You obey and wait eagerly for more chocolate. You do not feel him shift beneath you and you grow impatient and a little self conscious as you worry he is staring at you despite only a few seconds ticking by.

Suddenly you feel warmth on your lips as his have captured yours and you cannot help but moan against him as his hands squeeze onto your thighs. He nips at your bottom lip for entrance to which you oblige. His hands work up and down your frame before one finds the hair at the nape of your neck, fisting it to deepen the kiss.  Your hands fly for his shirt, desperately moving beneath it to do what you've always dreamt of doing.  Running them along his chiseled chest.

You kiss for awhile, long enough that by the time he is done you're both panting, adoring swollen lips.  You flush.

"Ba.." He gives you a look and you clear your throat, "Katsuki-kun what was that for?"

"For dinner dumbass." He says kissing you a final time before leaving you in the kitchen by yourself.

Your fingers fly to your lips and you think about how he tastes much sweeter than any chocolate you've ever fucking had.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha imagines #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #bnha kacchan #bnha #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo

[thirsty-pixie]

Study buddy

Request! Carlos X Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1626

I lived in Charmington towards the outskirts with my six older brothers. My family owned a farm and a small store in town where my mother and oldest brother sold fresh bread, meats, vegetables, and milk. Most of the time I stayed home cleaning the house or taking food out to my brothers and father who were working out in the field. I never had much going for me in this small village except for school, I loved everything about it. One day my mom came running in while I was doing dishes, she was panting and trying to tell me something.

I dried my hands and sat her down at the table "take a deep breath, what happened?" She smiled and held up a piece of paper with an official stap on the bottom. "Someone came by the store and dropped off this paper."

Dear Y/n L/n,

We looked over you transcripts and the letter your head master sent to us and we are delighted to I form you that you have been chosen to receive a full ride to attend Auradon Prep. We will be sending a car next Thursday to pick you up, you will be given a room in the dorm. You have one week to get your affairs in order, your first official day at Auradon will be this following Friday. We look forward to seeing you.

Sincerely King Benjamin Florian

I screamed when I read the letter and i hugged my mom, "you're hard work paid of honey" I wiped the tears from my eyes and she told me to go pack my things.

And that brings us to today, Friday. I had just finished my first day at Auradon Prep and I was sitting out on a bench under a large tree studying. I wanted to make sure I had the best grades so they wouldn't regret giving me a scholarship.

There was a guy with white hair doing hand stands and flips in the grass in front of me but I was too busy with trying to memorize the chapter. Fair God Mother was giving me a quiz on Monday so I wanted to be sure I could ace it. I finished the chapter for the third time and sighed picking up my note book to jot down some notes on the chapter.

I seen a girl with blonde hair with pink and blue streaks walking by with a group of girls, "hey I'm Y/n" I stood up to introduce myself but she gave me a side glare and kept walking. That how it had been all day, nobody gave me as much a a second look. I dont blame them I didn't belong here I sighed sitting back down and picked up my book to read the chapter again.

"Uh hi uh you're the new girl right?" I looked up and seen the boy with the white hair standing in front of me nervously. "Uh yeah my names Y/n" I closed my book and held it to my chest as I stood up. "I'm Carlos.. I'm uh originally from the isle" he extended his hand for me to shake. "Oh yeah I remember seeing you on the news..... I'm from the outskirts of Charmington" I said shaking his hand.

"I heard you got in because you're a genius" he said smiling and rubbing his arm "yeah my old head master sent Fairy God Mother my grades and a letter saying that I'd be a better fit here and last week I got the acceptance letter" I said proudly. "That's awesome." I shrugged "I guess but you're the first person to actually talk to me... everyone else just sticks up their nose and walks away" I looked down and shifted my weight.

"Yeah they used to do the same with me.. you just gotta find a good friend and say screw what everyone else thinks." He said smiling. I nodded shrugged "I gotta find a friend first" he smiled and pointed to himself. "You got me...." I laughed "thanks so other than the people how do you like it here in Auradon? Is way different than the isle?" I asked tucking a lose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Well its alright it's a big difference to adjust to and I'm struggling with one of my classes" he stuffed his hands into his pocket to and shrugged. "Well what class maybe I can help" I said smiling. "Uh Magical history, I kinda suck at it" he looked down embarrassed, "that's actually what I'm studying for right now! We can study together" I smiled cheerfully and he nodded. "Yeah wanna head back to the dorms?" He asked pointing towards the dorms. "Yeah I'll follow you."

I sat on his bed and pulled out my books on Magical history, I pulled out a big leather book that was well used and slightly damaged. "This was my mom's book she loved Magical history." I opened the book and Carlos sat down next to me and looked at the book "this is amazing" he whispered. "Yeah.... it really i-" I looked up from the book realizing how close he was to me. Our faces were inches apart and he immediately looked down his cheeks getting red, I smiled and looked back at the book.

***

"Y/n!" I jumped and turned away from my locker to see Carlos running up to me with a paper in his hands. "Hey what's up?" I asked smiling. "Studying with you paid off I aced the test!" He shoved the paper in my face and I smiled. "That's awesome Carlos I'm glad I could help" he nodded and bit his lip. "Hey would you want to go to the enchanted lake with me to celebrate?" He opened his locker that was next to mine and stuffed the paper inside. "Yeah I'd love to" I said shutting my locker leaning my shoulder against it.

***

I walked next to Carlos and smiled as he spoke about the isle and what things were like there. He talked about about how him and his friends were like a small gang, and all the trouble they caused. "Oh we're here" he said surprised, "yeah it's not that far of a walk...." I set my bag down and kicked off my shoes. I felt nervous since it was my first time ever wearing a bathing suit in front of a guy.... especially one that I liked. He had no problem with taking shirt of and throwing it to the side before jumping into the water.

I sat on the edge of the concrete still wearing my Jean shorts and Pink plaid button up, "you coming in?" He asked as he pushed his wet hair back out of his face. "I uh I don't know" I looked downslowly kicking my feet around in the water. He came and stood in front of me with his hands on his hips, "what's wrong Y/n. You were super excited to come here now you wont get in" he bend over slightly to meet my gaze. "To be honest I'm super self conscious.... I usually swim in a t-shirt and shorts but Evie made me this cute swimsuit so I had to wear it." I felt my face get warm as I looked down at the water.

"Well I can look away until you get into the water if you want." He said and I looked up at him as he smiled. I nodded, he moved to the side and turned his back. I stood up and pulled my shorts off tossing them on by bag, I started unbuttoning my shirt double checking to make sure he was turned way. I let the fabric slide off my shoulders and I tossed it on my bag as well, when I turned around I seen Carlos peeking. "HEY! You're peaking" he laughed and turned away.

I got in the water and he turned around and walked to the deeper water where I was, "you said you wouldn't look" I whined with a pouty face. "I'm sorry I couldn't help myself" I hit his arm and laughed. I was standing in the water that was just about at shoulder level, I watched him swim around and I smiled. "Carlos.... what made you come talk to me on Friday?" He stopped swimming and looked at me. "Um" I laughed, "um wasn't the response I was looking for" he swam over to me so he was able to stand. "Well it was actually Jay... I was trying to get your attention but Jay pushed me making he almost fall on you so I had to talk to you." He blushed again and i smiled "hmmm. Well remind me to thank him when we get back"

He laughed and tucked my hair behind my ear and brushed his thumb over my cheek. I leaned into his touch and looked up at him, "Y/n?" He bit his cheek and looked into my eyes "Yeah?" My eyes flickered to his lips then back to his eyes. He pulled me towards him gently pressing his lips against mine, he tilted his head deepening the kiss momentarily before pulling away. Whe I opened my eyes his cheeks were as red as the the roses he would bring me every morning.

"Wow.." I breathed smiling, "yeah I have wanted to do that since Friday" he caressed my cheek again "I've wanted you to do it single Friday" I bit my lip and kissed him again. "Wooooooooo it's about time" we both jumped and turned to see Jay, Evie, Ben, and Mal standing there smiling. We both laughed and I splashed at Jay.

[pbandjesse]

Happy Easter everyone. I am not feeling so great today. 

Its been about a month since Ive been home now. And I just. Miss going placed. I feel very lethargic and sad but like. Absently. Its not like something I know well. Its just kind of there. I ache and Im tired and I dont want to sleep and I fee; ;ole Im wasting time and I feel like there is to much time and to much to do and nothing to do and no time at all. Its a lot. Not every day is bad, and today wasnt exactly bad either. I just felt uncomfortable. 

I slept a little better last night. Still not great but a little better. I felt pretty terrible when my alarm went off though. Just real bad. I laid there for a while and just let myself feel bad. But I got up and got a shower and James had made breakfast and that helped. But I still felt bad. I havent gotten enough fruits or vegetables in the last couple days. We are just running low on fresh stuff. And its a cycle. Cause Ill feel bad and to tired to eat more then a sandwich and then I dont have enough nutrients and then I feel worse. James is going to go to the store tomorrow and try to get us some more fresh stuff so I can make smoothies or something. Cause this sucks. 

The day wasnt a bad one though. We played our game for a while. He went for a 30+ mile bike ride (that his app didnt record and he was upset about) I worked on frogs with the fire escape door open. I was a little to cold today. But I tried to be positive. 

I did some yoga. I listened to music. It was nice. I felt pretty good all afternoon. Took a lot of breaks on our game. I dont like just sitting here playing by myself. I much prefer with James and when we have a goal. And we accomplished a lot of those so that was pretty nice. We should have some villagers moving in tomorrow so thats exciting. 

I started to feel very tired again. I made my special mashed potatoes and stuffing for dinner because its Easter. I tried to draw a peep but I couldnt quite capture it. Still was nice to draw a little. 

We worked on another photo. This one didnt take to long. But it was still nice to do it with James. Even if I wasn't feeling good.

I just am not feeling great right now. I am tired but also dreading getting in bed. I might lay in the studio. My legs and hips are killing me. I think tomorrow I will make sure to go for a walk with James or something. I dont like feeling like this. 

I hope tomorrow is a better day. Its supposed to be warm but rainy. So well see how it goes. I hope you are all well. Staying safe, staying inside. Have a good night everyone. 

[fredheads]

excerpts from the same party

predictably, my free choice for day 8 is fred’s life falling apart 

i. 

“so she broke up with you to date hiram,” says fp in the black-and-white marble bathroom, bigger than fred’s kitchen - “and now she’s here with hiram, and you want to leave.”

“um… yeah.” fred replies, his response slowed somewhat by the marijuana in his lungs, the stretched-out feeling of being high. fp takes the blunt from his fingers and inhales long - he’s in the bathtub, dry, clothed, reclined like a queen or an emperor.

“the thing is, this is hiram’s house. so i’m thinking you could have forseen this.”

fred just stares at him. fp’s hair is glittering, like someone’s threaded fairy lights through it - the bathroom lights make a halo on his head, glowing through his curls like a supernova crown of thorns. his eyes are two shiny pools of black. it feels like they’re both naked.

“dude, you’re done,” says fp, and puts the roll back between his lips, doesn’t pass it back. fred’s on the counter, feet dangling. “no more for you.”

“i want to go home,” fred repeats uncertainly, suddenly hyper-focused on his red converse shoes, the laces loose on the left one, threatening to plummet off. the counter feels very high, and the black marble floor is easily mistaken for the endless void of outer space. he wonders how he’s breathing.

“we’re not going home when we just got here.” rhythm is a dancer is on the stereo outside, beating through the party like a heart. the heavy walls shiver. “it’s a big fucking house, you don’t have to see them.”

fred keeps staring at fp, fixated on every part of his face in turn. “do you think they’ve slept together?”

fp groans and lets his head fall back, hitting the tap. “dude, don’t do this.”

“do what?” asks fred and wiggles his ankle imperceptibly, lets his loose shoe fall and plummet to hit with a slap on the marble floor.

ii. 

“do you love me?” she asks, face bathed in purple light, and she looks like pictures of goddesses, roller-rink disco ball glow and purple cotton candy. fred wants to touch her, run the pads of his fingers along her velvet skin and wrap her glossy hair around his wrist, lick the sparkly lip gloss off her mouth. they’re in a corner of the dance floor and the music is louder than the blood in his head. the only part of his body that exists is his hands. he puts them on her hips, counts the teeth in the crescent-moon uptick of her smile. hiram’s hands have been there. his hands are not allowed there anymore but the smile says keep them and he does.

“yes,” he says reverently, her face is like a candle, pure and glowing with light. he touches her dark hair and her lips and feels dizzy, drinks from the smell of her, sugar and peach and mint. his stomach jumps.

“i bet you don’t even miss me,” hermione says nastily. “i bet you don’t even miss me a little.”

for some reason he can’t think of the right answer. his mouth tastes like vodka soda and his heart is beating in his wrists. her face is shimmering like a mirage in front of his eyes, far away from him and close up at the same time. he stares at her lips.

“do you love me more than you love him?” she asks.

fred’s mouth is very dry. “who?”

“him,” she says intensely, her shifting, pearlescent aura settling in a glow around her face and body.

“yes,” says fred, only because she hasn’t specified, which makes it easier to lie. then they’re kissing on the dance floor, his hands in her hair and her tongue on his teeth, just like it used to be. 

iii. 

“you don’t have to hold my hair,” he says as he’s heaving, penelope’s short nails raking it back from his scalp (she’s doing a shitty job anyway, there are long strands of hair hanging down at his ears into the toilet bowl, damp with sweat and vomit) - “you have a lot of it,” penelope replies dubiously and fred can’t think of an argument before he’s puking again, hot vodka mixed with old pizza, everything in his stomach.

he resurfaces into what seems like the brightest bathroom on earth - white walls, white floors, white porcelain, shining so brightly that he hides his eyes, ducks his head and stares at his jeans, the dark blotch of his body on the white landscape, counts the flecks of vomit on the white rim of the toilet. he squints to look at penelope who’s skin is washed out by the white, all except her puffy eyelids and nose, which are as red as her hair.

“hal and alice?” he asks, ears buzzing as his eyes adjust, the back of his neck slick with a quarter-inch layer of damp sweat. She juts her chin at him, looking too the worse for wear, her hair in disarray and the lipstick cracked on her raw lips. fresh tears threaten to spill over her eyes, the tear tracks on her cheeks black with mascara. he’s sure he looks no better.

“you saw hiram and hermione, i guess” she shoots back cooly, and then, kinder: “your nose is bleeding.”

he looks down at the white floor and a tiny drop of brilliant red hits the hem of his jeans. he groans and pinches it closed. “i puked too hard.” his voice is cartoonish with his nostrils sealed, his thumb and forefinger wet with blood.

penelope is putting hand sanitizer on her hands. he wonders about her missing glasses, if she has contacts in or has only been squinting. they’re both friendless in this bathroom, which makes them friends, which means he could ask. “i see you throw up at school,” she says.

“my stomach’s fucked up.”

“it’s called an eating disorder.”

“that’s not what it is,” he says, although he’s not sure.

his nose has stopped bleeding, he releases his fingers and she dumps hand sanitizer into his palm, holding the bottle from afar so that it doesn’t touch his skin. the alcohol burns in any little cuts on his skin, mixes with the fresh blood and turns it pink before it evaporates. “gum?” she asks, and he takes some gratefully, though he has a blister pack in his own jeans, flat from kneeling - penelope has the kind that comes in sticks, he pushes it soft around his sore mouth with his tongue.

“do you want to do shots with me and then dance?” he asks.

penelope thinks about it and seems to surprise herself more than anyone when she says yes.

iv. 

“you have to put ice on that,” tom says after hiram hits him, guiding fred quickly into the kitchen, the two of them leaving a trail of blood drops on the cashmere-soft carpet. “soon, or you’ll regret it tomorrow.” he busies himself at the massive freezer, rummaging for frozen vegetables, fred expects, which of course the lodges don’t buy. fred’s gaze lands on the remnants of drinks on the counter.

“pass me that bottle.”

“i’m not passing you that bottle.” tom replies, pulling a thick frozen steak in a wax-paper wrapper from the depths of the freezer and handing it to him. it oozes gluey blood onto fred’s wrist. “put this on your eye.”

their fingers brush when he hands it over, and fred thinks of yanking tom’s wrist toward him, biting it like a vampire, drawing blood. if fp wanted to be jealous he’d make him jealous.

“hiram’s a psycho,” he says, just to keep tom looking at him. “he boxes and hits people for fun.”

“it’s none of my business, but you were making out with his girlfriend.” tom’s avoiding his gaze, and fred’s heart sinks like a dark stone. “that’s why he hit you.”

“who told hiram?” fred asks, peeling the steak away from his eyes. tom grips his wrist and places it back. “it was fp, wasn’t it? go ahead, tell me. it was fp. i already know.”

tom looks away and up at the ceiling. “sixty days till graduation,” he says to himself. “that’s all.”

v. 

he stole a two-six of expensive vodka from hiram lodge’s kitchen and he empties half of it into sierra samuels’ red slushie, more than half to be nice, then dumps the rest into his green one. vodka all tastes the same mixed with icee but its smooth going down. they smash plastic cups together on the wet picnic table in the park and toast to graduation. he watches her lips wrap around the straw and thinks about roller rink dates, popcorn mixed with m&ms at the movies, the last time he kissed her. it’s past his curfew and the bugs are out. drunk food turned into convenience store food somewhere on their walk and there’s an empty bag of beef jerky between them that he doesn’t remember eating, only he must have, because sierra’s a vegetarian and she’s been talking so much he doesn’t think she’d have had time to chew.

“everyone thinks i have it all together but i dont,” is what she says now, and fred says he has nothing together too. sierra stares at the horizon and shakes in her blouse and he puts fps jacket around her to keep her warm. “it’s not fair we can’t love who we love,” she says and starts to cry, weeps on his shoulder with her hair in his mouth and he pats her head like a mother, his mouth too sweet and his lips stained green.

“it’s not fair for us,” she says, “it’s not fair, you and fp, me and tommy, that we can’t be together,” and fred says nothing because maybe if he doesn’t say anything she’ll think she made a mistake, that there was never anything between him and fp at all.

vi. 

“do you have a ride home?” mary asks after almost running him over, and of course he doesn’t, he’s wandering the street outside the party with his lip bleeding and one shoe missing, blood and snot streaming from his nose into his teeth. maybe she only asked as a courtesy because she doesn’t wait for him to answer, hauls him across the street and into her mother’s car, closes the door on him before he breaks down sobbing in her passenger seat.

“who’d you come with?” mary asks, watching him cry. there’s a pair of fluffy dice dangling from the rearview mirror.

“fp” he manages, through his tears and snot. mary stares at his black eye.

“and who hit you?”

“hiram.”

mary swears under her breath. “asshole,” she says. they roll slowly down the street at ten miles an hour, avoiding potholes. fred can’t look at her. it’s like trying to look at the sun. “fp just left you? i don’t believe that.”

“everyone left me.” the self pity tastes good, he rolls it around in his mouth, presses his tongue to the torn flap of it. he draws back into the seat when he recognizes the turn, panicked. “don’t take me home.” he’s too far past curfew for that, too far past wasted, half-covered in blood. “take me to gladys’. it’s okay,” he insists when mary hesitates. “i crash with her a lot.”

“okay,” says mary, “but i’m waking her up. i’m not just dropping you off somewhere if i don’t know you’re safe.”

it occurs to him later that it’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to him, and wholly undeserved.

vii. 

“i made you another mixtape,” he says in the morning, lips sticky with hangover, eyes crusted shut. gladys is awake beside him, eating a bag of chips, the duvet curled around them. he breathes in the familiar smell of sweat and cigarettes and feels safe.

“is it full of your pretty boy rock shit?” gladys asks.

“yeah.”

“okay, i’ll listen.” fred rolls over and she pulls him in against her, mashes his face to her stomach and lower boob. her voice is more smirk than sympathy. “how are you feeling?”

“eat shit,” says fred, whose bruised eye still stings. she’s wearing fp’s metallica shirt, the ME pressed to his cheek. his mouth and stomach are sour and hollow, his joints stiff and his neck screaming in pain. 

“i only ask because mary tossed you out of her car into my yard because you were throwing up bright green.”

“vodka slushies,” he explains weakly, though it feels like a different night entirely that they’d been on that picnic table, feels like the wrong answer. gladys runs her hands through his hair and scratches his scalp. he tries to be cheerful. “you should have come.”

“hiram lodge’s party? i’d rather put a pencil through my eye.”

fred remembers his shiner and lifts his head from her chest. “do i look like a badass?”

“no. you look like a pathetic loser who made out with his ex-girlfriend and had an awful night.” .

“your room is messy,” says fred. there’s a stack of laundry that looks like the leaning tower of pisa in front of his unbruised eye when he finally cracks it open - the duvet they’re sleeping in is covered in clothes and album sleeves.

“i’m gonna clean it. i went to the hardware store yesterday-”

“how butch of you.”

“shut up.” he can tell from her voice she’s smiling. “i’m going to paint it all black. you want to help?”

“your mom lets you?”

“yeah.”

“okay.”

“okay.” gladys curls a lock of his long hair around her finger and smooths it out.

“gladys, what are we going to do?” fred asks.

“you and me?”

“all of us.”

“we’re going to be fine,” says gladys, lying through her teeth. “we’re going to be just fine.”

#parentdaleaw2k19 #fred andrews #penelope blossom #sierra mccoy #gladys jones #hermione lodge #fp jones #tom keller

[foxesareforbiddencats]

The Roommate Chronicles

Part 3.

So. We went a couple days livin' the normal college life. Juan bought me some booze. We drank and watched TV and ate real food that I cooked. He likes it when I cook because he 'thinks white people food is really neat and good to eat'.

Oh dear.

Okay. Well. Alright.

I bought some basic groceries by myself over the course of a couple days getting money from various jobs because 4 chicken nuggets every 2 days was difficult.

Juan says he gets paid Thursday and he wants to go shopping. He wants me to go so I can get anything I need.

Aight man. Cool.

We go to Ace for three things. Paint samples, copies of keys, and nails.

We leave Ace with paint samples, 3 new keys, nails, and 100 some dollars in tools???? He wanted socket wrenches I guess. Alright... so we spent about 110 there.

Then we went to Hy-Vee for groceries. Heres where things got really interesting.

We go into Hy-Vee. He takes the cart, I have the list. We start walking down isles.

We need vegetables. So I go to the canned vegetables and say 'we need corn, green beans, carrots, and peas'

Juan says 'those are in the other aisle'

'???? No? They're right there. It's like 98 cents a can dude'

'Canned vegetables? Nah man. Get fresh ones.'

'But fresh ones are so much more expensive and dont last? Plus some of my recipes call for canned vegetables and I dont feel like steaming carrots every time I want carrots with my chicken dinner.'

'The canned ones taste like metal'

'No they dont??? They taste like vegetables'

'No that's so gross get fresh ones. I need more asparagus'

'Okay 1st of all who eats fresh asparagus besides rich people for garnish. 2nd, Theres nothing wrong with canned vegetables. Look, carrots, corn, peas, green beans, asparagus, beets, potatoes, Lima beans-'

'What are Lima beans?'

'They wrote a book about it...'

'WAIT YOU EAT CANNED ASPARAGUS, BEETS, AND POTATOES? EW WTF MAN'

'YOU DONT?'

'NAH MAN THAT SHITS NASTY'

'NO ITS NOT'

We continue to argue over cheap and lasting canned vegetables versus expensive and perishable fresh ones and the entire store is laughing at us.

IT GETS WORSE.

He goes to buy popcorn. Theres lots of choices. He picks a box of 4 bags for like $6.... But theres chapter boxes with more from other brands. Like... A box of 18 for $5

I was like "hey man. You should get this box. You get more and it's less expensive"

"But it's less expensive... so it's not as good of quality..."

"Um... no... it's a different brand. Its generic so it costs less than name brand. Look at the ingredients. They're the same"

Generic also had more protein

"Yeah but... then they must be smaller bags!"

"No.. they're the same size. Look at the size chart"

"WELL THE GENERIC ONE ISNT ORGANIC AND ITS GREASIER"

ITS FUCKING POPCORN ITS SUPPOSED TO BE GREASY. POPCORN ISNT MADE TO BE HEALTHY. FINE YOU WANT NOT GREASY POPCORN, THERES THE 18 FOR 4 WITHOUT BUTTER OKAY

THIS CONTINUES. WITH EVERYTHING. EGGS. MILK. BUTTER. MEAT SELECTION. POP. EVERYTHING OKAY. STARTS TO DRIVE ME INSANE

#the roommate #roommates #roommies #the roommate chronicles #food #groceryshopping #grocery list #shopping #cost #budgeting #canned vegetables are good okay #leave me alone #help for juan #wtf juan #juan #please stop #it doesnt make sense #youd save so much money #omg why

[oblio-k]

ANYWAYS ive been working on a mila fic whenever im exhausted and here it is. whether it’s love or manipulation is up to the readers

Invitation

As Mila pulls a weed from the little garden she’s started behind her employer's mansion, she finds it hard to keep her mind from wandering. From thinking about how her life is so different now.

She forces herself to use the word different because if she uses another word she fears she may start crying. And if that happens, someone would undoubtedly see her, and her employer would take her aside and ask her if she was alright in a way that would sound kind but could drag any answer out of her that he wanted. She likes working for him and vastly prefers this life, this job to her old one. Crying will just make things difficult.

Master Tain had been cruel and treated her as if she was nothing if he noticed that she existed at all. She’d been on the receiving end of his wrath quite frequently and had been left with bruises more than she cared to admit.

Agent Tain is cruel, but never to her. To her, he’s careful and kind, respectful. He goes out of his way to spend time with her and never raises a hand to her. When he looks at her, he doesn’t look through her, and she’s glad to be acknowledged.

She knows he’s only so kind because she knows who he really is. Who he isn’t, rather. But she likes to think it’s also because they’re friends. Or, at least, are becoming friends.

But when she looks at him when he’s working, she’s reminded of how they met, and she can’t stop her hands from trembling just a bit. Before meeting Agent Tain, she’d only ever seen people die from old age or illness. She’d never seen people be murdered. She’d never seen people be or had been interrogated, never had to learn how to use a weapon-

“Miss Garak.”

When she stands and turns, Enabran is behind her. At first, his ability to sneak up on her, to appear out of nowhere, had scared her. Now, it still frightens her, but she doesn’t worry he will hurt her. He’s had so many opportunities to get rid of her, to eliminate the last person besides his superiors that knew his secret, but he’s never taken them. She is alive and unharmed, save for a scratch on her palm from a tool she’d grabbed the wrong end of while gardening.

Before she can greet him, she sees the wound cutting across his abdomen. It’s as if someone had slashed him with a sharp knife. One hand presses tightly against the large wound, like he’s keeping himself from spilling open, though it does nothing to stop the flow of blood. A smaller puncture wound by his clavicle bleeds profusely. She forces herself to get over her shock after looking at each injury and takes his free arm around her shoulders. He leans against her and she helps him inside.

It’s not the first time he’s come to her with injuries, and she can never tell if he is in pain. Enabran is silent as they walk to the master bedroom, and his breathing is steady. It’s not typical for an Obsidian Order agent to appear immune to any injury, from what she’s overheard and seen.

She’s not entirely sure she knows why that is. Mila suspects he’s not a normal agent, that these assassination and interrogation attempts come so frequently because he is proof of something his superiors would very much like to erase.

He sits on the edge of his bed and she washes the dirt from her hands and retrieves the medical kit he has hidden away. It takes a moment for the wall panel to open when she lets it scan her palm, and when she turns around, Enabran is pulling off his bloodied, torn shirt. There are no wounds on his back, and he lies down as she opens up the kit next to him.

Mila doesn’t understand why he trusts her. Still, she dutifully heals him and when the medical scanner picks up an odd substance in his system, she asks, “Have you been poisoned, sir?”

“It’s a truth serum,” he replies, an odd smile on his face. His voice is completely level, as if he hadn’t almost bled to death.  “A very strong one.”

“But it doesn’t work on you.”

“Of course it d-doesn’t.” His voice cracks, and he closes his eyes. But he’s too late to hide it when she’s looking directly at him. His pupils dilate. Bizarrely, he begins to laugh. “Why would it work? I’m Cardassian.”

It means something, that. An inside joke that she’s not privy to the context of. But Enabran glances at her, an invitation for her to investigate. He won’t be upset if she finds out what that means- he wants her to, she’s almost sure. The secret she knows could destroy everything he’s worked for, what’s another?

“Miss Garak, are you finished?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. Would you get me a cup of tea?” Master Tain had never thanked anyone. Agent Tain never thanked anyone unless he was manipulating them, and even then, only rarely. Enabran always thanks her. She likes to think it’s genuine. He rubs his eyes as she turns, and sits up.

He has a small tea set in his bedroom, a little burner and a few boxes of the different teas he’s collected on his travels. It’s an indulgence of his, and he’ll get a distant look in his eyes for a moment when she hands the cup to him.

She’s thrilled and worried about noticing and knowing these little details about him. It’s an exposure of that part of him from before.

A weakness he would cease if she dared to point it out.

“Make a cup for yourself,” he adds.

“Yes, sir.”

She picks an herbal blend with a pleasant taste she knows will help with his recovery and help relax her nerves. Blood still isn’t something she’s very used to, especially not large quantities of it. Perhaps in a few years, it won’t faze her.

A few years. She’ll be lucky if he lets her live that long, and she’s not sure what she’s feeling when she realizes she only ever thinks about her future being here, serving him.

By the time the tea is done, he’s changed into fresh clothing, a garish orange turtleneck covered by a drab green shirt, with black pants that don’t match the rest of the outfit at all. Fashion is not something he’s good at, but then again, he seems to be good at everything if asked. She’s sure if she requested it, and he was so inclined, he could choose an outfit fitting of his position as heir to the Tain fortune.

As he takes the cup from her and doesn’t even check it for poison, she thinks to herself that he would very likely be inclined to do what she asked. But she won’t. She knows her place.

“Miss Garak, how is your garden?”

“It’s doing quite well. My brother sent me some seeds to try growing, and they’ve finally begun to sprout.”

“Tolan, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” She’d never told him her brother’s name before. “I’m afraid I’ll never quite meet his skill for flowers.”

“I never understood why people enjoy flowers so much.”

“They’re beautiful. People like to look at nice things.” He opens his mouth to say something and hesitates. Perhaps the truth serum is affecting him more than he wants to admit, though she doesn’t know what he could possibly say about flowers that he wouldn’t want anyone to hear. She asks a question that she thinks will be inconsequential, “If there’s anything you would like to see in the garden, I would plant it for you.”

“No. I’m sure whatever you grow will look beautiful.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Though perhaps you should grow more edible plants than flowers. It’s been quite some time since I was last able to eat something that I’d picked myself.” That distant look. Then his pupils grow large and he looks down at his tea as he says, “When I was a boy, my caretakers would take me on walks around the estate grounds after I’d finished my studies for the morning. We’d eat from the garden until lunch was ready. It was nice.” They’re as wide as she’s ever seen on anyone as he finishes.

Before she can offer her own story about her and her brother enjoying fruits and vegetables from their father’s garden, he asks her, “Miss Garak, do you know how to play kotra?”

“I’m familiar with the title, not with the rules,” Mila answers, dropping the sir to see what he hopes to gain by teaching a servant a complicated game.

A smile tugs at his lips, and he gets up and pretends not to have noticed. “It’s a game I quite enjoy. I believe you would be a good player.” He retrieves a board from within his desk and brings back to the bed. “I was taught how to play when I was young.”

She expects to find a knife at her throat in an hour, then. “I don’t expect you to play any way but your best, sir, despite my inexperience.”

“Kotra is a game about bold tactical strategy…”

Sure enough, after having quickly lost two games against him and arguing with him after she realized he was allowing her to win their third match, a disruptor is pressed against her throat, her wrists held tight in his other hand. She hadn’t even seen him grab it.

“I think I need to get back to work, Miss Garak,” he tells her, voice cold.

Enough was enough. He couldn’t risk appearing close to her so soon after an incident. Quietly, she agrees, but he doesn’t let her go.

“You understand, don’t you, Mila?” It was too dangerous for them to be friends. To be whatever they were. Mila wonders which one of them he’s afraid for.

After all, why should he care if something happens to her? Attachment was a weakness. He’d said so himself to another agent, and for once, she was absolutely certain he had been honest. “Yes, sir.”

It’s even more likely that he’s not worried at all, that all this is a game to keep her quiet. Still, she enjoyed their time together and will look forward to the next, if it comes.

Agent Tain releases her, lowering the disruptor.

#uhh warnings for blood and injury and tain being absolutely drugged i guess? though its not like. graphic about those things #ds9 #enabran tain #mila garak #star trek #oblio's fics