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#like what was romantic about it? you hiding in the bushes singing that should be me by Justin Bieber?

giggly-squiggily · 3 months

Note

i was thinking about whether or not i should send a third request and a ship i've requested a few times already on top of that but you know what it's my birthday i'm allowed to be a little indulgent 😌

may i please ask for cutie and bestie: "this is the part where you run away." with romantic uzusane?

as always, absolutely no worries if not!! (that goes for the other two as well in case i forgot to say ot there lol)

REY! Happy birthday friend! <3 I hope you have the loveliest of days! :D Some Uzusane for you on your special day!

Cutie: "You can't hide from me, I can hear you laughing!" + Bestie: This is the part where you run."

“Boo.” Tengen poked Sanemi’s sides from behind, intending to scare.

“Aahha!” The jerk of surprise was expected. The startled laugh wasn’t.

Frozen, Sanemi slowly looked over his shoulder, cheeks hot as he leaned away from Tengen’s growing grin.

A beat of silence- the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“This is the part where you run.”

Sanemi all but sprinted, putting all his years training as a Hashira into his feet as he dashed for safety. Behind, Tengen cackled, a delightful sound that sent shivers of anticipation across the shorter man’s skin. “Here I come, Sanemi~”

With a choked swear, Sanemi raced into the nearest courtyard, scrambling for the nearest bush. Seconds later, Tengen arrived, looking around.

“Sanemi~ I know you’re here~” He called, making his voice high and sing-song. “You can’t hide from me, Sanemi dear; I can always hear you laughing!”

Damn! Sanemi pressed a hand over his mouth, fighting the giggles down as he watched Tengen spin in place, hands to his ears and standing on his toes. The sight never failed to get him snickering.

Tengen paused suddenly, eyes brightening. “Gotcha.”

“Wha-” He didn’t have a chance. Within a matter of seconds, Tengen had his ankle, pulling him clean out of the bush and into his arms. “Shit!”

“Found you!” Tengen laughed, one hand keeping Sanemi close as the other latched onto his side, squeezing and pressing into his ribs as he tickled his boyfriend senseless. “Think you could hide from me, windchime?”

“Shihiihih-ehhahahahhhaa, Thehehehehehengehehehehehehn! Yoohoohohu ahahahhahahss!” Sanemi cried, flailing like a cat in the bigger man’s arms. His cheeks were getting redder by the second- the pet name not helping one bit. “Lehehehet mehehehe goohoohoho!”

“No way! I wanna hold you close and never let you go!” Spinning them around like a lovesick school girl, Tengen kept up his tickle attack along the smaller man’s sides and stomach, filling the air with his giggly swears and squeaks. “Besides, you’re not fighting back- clearly you love this!”

“Shuhuhuhuhut uhuuhuhhp! Ahehahahaha, gohohohohod Tehheheehhen! Ihihihi’m gehheehhetting siihihihihck!” The twirling stopped, as did the tickles. Tengen kept him in his arms though as he gasped for air, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yohohohour’e tohoohho much.”

“You love it.” Tengen grinned, puckering his lips at him and making loud kissy noises. Sanemi rolled his eyes before reaching up, pulling his chin down towards him.

“I love you- you big oaf. Don’t forget it.” He kissed Tengen’s grinning mouth before he could respond, melting when the other kissed him back without a second of hesitation.

Send me a candy heart and I'll write a dabble for it!

#Candy Heart Valentine Event #chve2k24 #tickle #tickle dabble #uzusane #rarepair?#cause I'm digging it jarjeajrjeraerj #tengen uzui #sanemi shinaguzawa #fluff #Happy birthday Rey! :D

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uhohdad · 8 months

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Hi its the feral petty konig anin (can i be 🧸anon?)

I just love ur delulu konig sm. Hell stomp and trample everyone just to get to u💕💕. And he takes everything u do TOO seriously to the point its kinda funny.

S/o, minding their business, just casually singing: a hopeless romantic all my lifeee surrounded by couples all the time.~~~ im feeling lonely, o i wish i could find—”

Konig, immediately jumping out of his hiding bush, trampling over everyone, pushing poor ghosty to the ground: IM HERE IM COMMING I— 🏃🏻🏃🏻🏃🏻🏃🏻🏃🏻

hi 🧸 liebe ilysm 💕💕

no bc it’s actually hilarious like you’re just doing normal human things. like yeah, getting a beer with the co-workers might be fun :) and he is just foaming at the mouth because of your betrayal to him

it’s a hot day so you pick out a summer dress to keep you cool, and he’s convinced you dressed up for him. no, wait, you’re in the same building as another man? you dressed up for him. whore.

and you’re just like sir i’ve never met you in my life :) i have no idea who you are :) i am just trying to air out my sweaty asscheeks :)

getting possessive of your laughs? jealous about others causing you joy? boy it’s not that serious.

you’re a trained killer and soldier and he’s like you’re so soft. so fragile and delicate. i have to watch out for you and protect you. meanwhile you’re crushing grown men’s skulls with your thighs and mowing the enemies down like your name is rambina.

you’re talking to ghost, your supervisor, about todays mission. something totally normal and expected of you to do. and you’re just thinking oh boy i hope i don’t fuck up too bad on todays mission :) hope i don’t friendly fire again :) and konig is convinced you two are about to rip each other’s gear off and fuck in front of everyone.

soap is just trying to be nice to the new kid on the team and konig has totally rewritten his personality to be some sleazy creep who wants to take advantage of you. and cannot make the mental leap that it actually, he, who is the sleazy creep who wants to take advantage of you.

and he’s losing his mind because hes convinced you’re doing it on purpose. that you’re some scheming mastermind and you’re torturing him and pulling his strings. and you’re like :) what should i eat for lunch today :) sammich :)

and he’s just

#love him sm like hes out of him mind 😌#konig #uhohask #🧸

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lemontwst · 4 years

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CAN I JUST, LIKE SHARE SOMETHING - okay, since NRC is an all boys school and bc of that all of the boys just kind of assume MC is a dude too right?? MC just wears hoodies and oversized clothing in general! Well, one day while cleaning the Heartslabyul gardens, MC takes off her shirt and is left in a tank top, and the school proceeds to have a crisis, the staff to bc AAAA SHOULDERS - 😂😂😂😂😂

mc shows a glimpse of skin and the entire school shuts down like it's a national emergency!!!! students from each and every dorm come to see you, keeping you from getting any actual work done, and Riddle almost overblots in a fit of rage.

You're here to clean the gardens and Riddle won't stand for any dilly-dallying. He tries to maintain a semblance of order as the other Heartslabyul students crowd around you, but you suspect it's more out of jealousy than an actual sense of duty. Ace pinches your shoulder and teases you for being 'shameless' with all that skin out, but despite his sarcastic remarks, his ruby eyes remain glued to the pleasant line of your upper body. Deuce tries to protect you, bless his heart, but his face glows an iridescent red as he gently pulls you away from Ace, his hand lingering on your back.

Cater is already taking pictures of you and uploading them on MagiCam. The close-up of your pretty shoulders gets a thousand likes a minute… and Cater promptly makes the post private, simmering in quiet irritation as he finds himself being possessive of a girl for the first time. Trey tries to get the first years to leave you alone… and then promptly uses his senpai status to lead you away from the others and enjoy a few moments alone with you as you two continue to clean the gardens. You completely miss the way he gazes at your sweaty skin with clouded eyes whenever you turn your back to him.

Che'nya materializes behind you and steals kisses on your shoulders from time to time. He disappears immediately after with a chuckle so no one can stop him. Ace tries to smack him with a broom but misses every time.

You're wearing a tank top? Savanaclaw can smell your scent from a mile away. You somehow find yourself sandwiched between Jack and Leona, Jack's nose bumping against your shoulder while Leona's brushes against your neck. Ruggie swoops in to save you, pulling you away as he half-assedly scolds the other two. You don't notice how his thumb brushes over your pulse point, marking you with his scent, nor the way the air seems to spark with tension between the four of you when Ruggie keeps his hands firmly on your bare shoulders.

Azul clears his throat and tries to pretend he's not affected. He's very affected. He tries to romantically caress your shoulder but he's immediately cockblocked by Floyd and Jade. The twins hover around you like two skyscrapers and actively distract you from cleaning, poking and prodding at your exposed skin like they've never seen a clavicle before. Floyd attempts to take a bite but Jade pushes his face away before he can chomp down on you.

Jamil should be used to seeing exposed skin since his country's fashion is light and breezy, but he takes one (1) glance at you and flushes. He hides his face under his hood, but he steals glances when he thinks you're not looking. Kalim just waltzes up to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, grinning from ear to ear as he offers to help you with your chores. You don't think much of it. It's just Kalim being a sweetheart. But the way he holds you flush against his body and looks down at you with mischief in his eyes tells you he may not be as pure as you think...

What is this, a zoo? Vil clicks his tongue and swats away the greedy hands that reach for your body. He's known you were a girl this entire time, of course, and he won't stand to have your blossoming beauty tarnished by a bunch of unruly monkeys. He casually offers to wipe the sweat off your shoulders… and then smoothly moves to dry off your cleavage too, lingering a bit too long with his fingers and giving you a dazzling smirk when you blush.

You hear Rook gleefully singing your praises all the way across the garden, his words getting sweeter and sweeter the closer he gets to you. You're all sweaty and flushed with exhaustion and yet here he is, following you around with a happy smile on his face and roses blooming around him as he waxes poetry like you're Helen of Troy. Epel is about to have a mental breakdown. He has to pretend to be all princely and polite because Vil is here, but he's seconds away from beating the shit out of Ace and Floyd with his metal dustpan. He remains glued to your side and drapes himself over you, bristling like a feral cat whenever someone tries to touch you.

Idia praises and curses the gods in the same breath. He should have stayed in his room!!! … But then he would have missed out on this premium moe content of his favorite character, (y/n)—! Maybe going out into the real world from time to time is not so bad?! He squats down and brings his hands to his head as he has a mini panic attack. If you and your bare shoulders get too close to him, he will pass out.

The only good thing about having Diasomnia's attention on you is that whenever they take a step towards you, everyone else takes four steps back. Malleus sighs and lets you stand next to him under his mantle, keeping a hand on the small of your back. His gaze is dark and intense as it flickers between your neck and your shoulders. You think he might be slightly flustered at the sight of your skin. Lilia is usually an old fashioned gentleman with you, so it catches you completely off guard when he sneaks up behind you and gives your neck a little love bite. It doesn't hurt. He just... rests his fangs on your skin for a second and your heart nearly jumps out of you. He cheekily licks your sweat off his lips and grins as he tells you to be more aware of your surroundings.

Sebek refuses to look at you, covering his mouth with a hand as his cheeks glow a light shade of pink. He stubbornly keeps his eyes on the half-painted rose bushes as he pretty much orders you to hide your half-naked self behind him. You're… most definitely not half-naked, but you know Sebek is just trying to protect you in his own awkward way, so you go along with it for a bit. Silver looks like the perfect knight in shining armor as he stands next to you, keeping the others away with a steely glare, a hand resting on his baton. You actually manage to finish your chores under his watchful gaze, and relish in the way his cheeks flush a little when you smile and thank him. He reaches up to brush your hair off your sweaty shoulders, his eyes burning into yours with unspoken longing.

At the end of your chaotic day, Crewel places his fluffy coat on your small frame and reminds you to be careful around men. You don't see the smirk he sends Crowley over your shoulder, nor the way the headmaster fumes at being beaten to the punch. It's his coat you should be wearing! He places his top hat on you instead, and starts brooding very dramatically whenever you attempt to take it off.

…

You sigh and keep Crowley's hat on for the rest of the evening.

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sunbaekery · 3 years

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Coming Soon: Kiss and Tell

I’m super excited to introduce my newest Special — Kiss and Tell. It’s a project I’ve been thinking about for a while now and while I’ve only been writing drabbles or short oneshots, I really wanted to try my hand at writing longer stories. I don’t know how long each story will be and I don’t know how long this project will take, but I hope that you’ll support me on my writing journey.

These stories will be written in a 3rd person limited (members thoughts) with fem ocs.

Teaser(total): 0.8k

For centuries, kisses have been a way to express emotions, and whether it's a passionate liplock between lovers or a loving kiss from parent to child, each kiss has a story behind it. Kiss and Tell follows the lives of 7 young men, all at different stages of life, and the story behind their kiss.

Jisung's Story

Jisung is your standard awkward high school student: he plays video games till 2 a.m., cleans his room only when his mother nags him for the hundredth time, and struggles to form coherent sentences in front of the girl he's been crushing on: Kim Yeri. With the annual summer fair coming up, The Carnival, and college looming on the horizon, he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out, and to his surprise, she agreed. This should be it: he's finally getting his chance at the sappy high school romance he's been waiting for, so then why can't he stop thinking about the little mole on the lower right corner of his best friend's lips

Item: Bites, Desert

Allergen Warnings: Profanity, Crude Humor, etc.

Expected Release: In August

Haechan's Story

Haechan has always been the funny guy, always putting a smile on other people's faces and making them feel as if they've known each other for years, even if they've just met for a few minutes. So when he finally meets the girl with impeccable timing for jokes that almost rivals his… almost, you can bet he married her as soon as he could. But life has a funny way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it, and Haechan's idyllic life is shattered in an instant.

Item: Bites, Namericano

Allergen Warnings: Major Character Death, Pregnancy, Grief, etc.

Mark's Story

Mark is twenty-two years old, a recent college graduate, young, capable, and ready to face the world. Sure, he earned a degree in Musical Composition, which, in hindsight, may not be the safest career choice. Still, it was a crucial part of him, and with a support system like his, his loving parents, sympathetic brother, and an angel of a girlfriend, who wouldn't pursue it. But Mark wasn't prepared for the world to come to him; he is offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the only problem being that it is halfway across the globe — truly putting the distance in long distance. Mark must decide whether his love or his dream is more important to him.

Item: Bites, Namericano

Allergen Warnings: Not Applicable for now

Renjun's Story

Renjun is eleven years old... okay, ten and a half, and he's about to start his last year of elementary school. He's a big kid now, but he doesn't feel like it; in fact, he misses his parents, who are constantly shooing him away with excuses about working hard to achieve a pormoshin... promortion... or something like that. He is tired and irritable, and all he wants to do is curl up into a small ball and hide from the world, which he does most of the time because students and teachers prefer to ignore him rather than deal with his tantrums. With the start of a new school year comes a new teacher, one who doesn't seem to take no for an answer. Will Renjun finally open up, or will she, like everyone else, lose interest in him?

Item: Bites, Mocha

Allergen Warnings: Anxiety, Bullying, Negligence

Jaemin's Story

If someone had told seventeen-year-old Jaemin that at age twenty-seven, he would be living in a much too small apartment, having an affair with his much older, married neighbor, who always promised to leave her husband for him, but never did, and still hadn't pursued his photography dream because he was too much of coward and still cared about what people thought of him, he would have punched that person in the face, and obnoxiously yell very choice words. And yet here he was, exactly that; there was no need to beat around the bush, Na Jaemin was a complete loser.

Item: Bites, Mocha

Allergen Warnings: Age-Gap, Suggestive Scenes, Cheating, Insecurity, etc

Chenle's Story

Chenle is a "late bloomer." Not professionally, of course, graduating from the country's top business school at the age of 18, starting and successfully building a fortune 500 company by the age of 25, and now owning a thriving business empire at the age of 40, Chenle was undoubtedly fortunate in that aspect of his life, his romantic life, however, not so much. So at the age of 40, Chenle decided to try his hand at online dating, and after some questionable, read disastrous dates, he's finally met a serious-relationship worthy woman and Chenle swears he can smell love in the air. Little did Chenle know that trouble was on its way, in the form of the woman's 15-year-old teenage daughter, who was determined to put an end to Chenle's relationship.

Item: Bites, Namericano

Allergen Warnings: Break down, Divorce, Absent Parent, etc.

Jeno's Story

Jeno has two loves: singing and partying, a combination that is destined for disaster. After experimenting at a party, Jeno's behavior reaches a new low jeopardizing not only his singing career but also his relationship with his junior singer that he may or may not be falling in love with.

Item: Namericano, Bites

Allergen Warnings: Age-Gap, Drugs, Partying, Reckless Behavior, Hallucinations, Violence (etc.)

Guide to Sun Baekary Diction

Bites = Slice of Life

Namericano = Angst

Mocha = Feel-Good/Motivational

Desert = Fluff

Allergen Warning = Trigger Warning

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oingo233 · 3 years

Text

Rapture is a Boy (8)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior? And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader(neutral)

Warning: FLUFF, so much fluff you could drown in it, self-doubt (brief)

Authors Note: This is the last part, which is crazy to me, I truly hope yall love it. This series is dear to my heart because it has allowed me to meet and talk to you and so many other amazing people! You all mean so much to me, and Remus is my lil baby too. I can’t even express how much I appreciate and love you all <3

Word Count: 5k

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven

Part Eight

****A Stag, a Rat and a Dog***

Remus POV

“That was-” Peter couldn’t even finish his sentence, he just laughed, he laughed so loud it was hard not to join in with him. James pat his back and nodded, wiping some of the blue glitter off on his shirt.

“Right, mate.” he agreed. Sirius was bouncing in his spot, none of our smiles breaking or dimming. “Another notch under the belt of our legacy of awesome,” he all but sang, all of our cheeks still flushed from this morning. He hit Sirius’s arm and they began to race up the stairs, Peter and I followed, jogging after them. “Lily loved it too!” he added, smiling even bigger at just the thought of her, he was beating Sirius.

We all stopped running and Sirius was scowling, he lost, we all stood at the portrait when Sirius turned to me. “Worked well on (Y/N) too,” he stated, smirking at me and making a sexual motion with his hips, James laughed and I pushed him. “Ew, your palms are sweaty.”

“We’ll excuse me, ABBA sweats no doubt after giving the performance of a life time.” I say while James says the word and the painting opens for us. “Besides, it has worked for now. But they are still oblivious to the truth. I might lose them all over again, once they know.”

The mood seemed to darken at this realization. Not everyone is as understanding about my condition as the boys. That’s the real reason I couldn’t stop sweating, and if the boys looked close enough they’d see I couldn’t stop shaking ever so slightly too. I just got (Y/N) back, I’m not sure how well I’d be able to cope with losing them a second, and final time. My heart broke just at the thought, and at the very realization that I might have to prepare myself for such an outcome.

“Mate, (Y/N) is one of the people in this world that loves you most. Besides us of course,” James smiled softly, trying to lighten the mood whenever he could, “I doubt, that anything could make them think differently of you. You’re not just your condition. You’re Remus feckin Lupin!” The other boys cheered in agreement as we stepped into our dorms, Peter even went as far as rubbing my shoulders to build up my confidence, he saw a trainer do it to a wrestler on muggle TV once.

“And we’ve got a romantic feckin plan!” Peter cheers, still excited about what is yet to happen. I swallow thickly once more, this day could be one of the best in a while, or the absolute worst. I guess we’ll know tonight.

“Yes, and are you guys sure you are okay with this?” I ask, for the fifth time. James rolls his eyes, and Sirius bangs his head on the dorm room wall.

“Yes, Moony. Yes. Yes. Yes. We are okay with this for the millionth time. (Y/N) is our friend too, and all we want is to see the lot of ya happy again, so will ya shut up about it. We already agreed, mate,” Sirius says, looking up just barely lifting his head from the wall.

“And we don’t like lying to (Y/N) either,” James says, Peter nods with each word falling from their lips, as he tugs on pants and grabs a new, not bedazzled, robe.

We were still talking and going over plans for tonight when we left for first period. The common room was quite expect for our meshed whispers and loud footfalls, it wasn’t until the painting door swung open that we heard another sound. An all too familiar sound.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat before us. Her hands folded in at her chest and her pointed eyes trained on us, unblinking. We all swallowed thickly, our fear and respect for her almost overwhelmed our courage and friendliness towards her. Almost.

“Did ya enjoy the concert, Minnie? I was singing just for you.” Sirius said, smiling and trying not to laugh as her expression remained unmoving. James joined in and I nearly rolled my eyes, but a smile found it’s way onto my lips nonetheless.

“Yeah, we saw ya a-tap-tap-tappy your toes!” He says, doing a little dance. I was amazed by her ability to not even crack a smile at our enthusiasm, but then again, this was nothing new to her. “ABBA gets to the best of us doesn’t it?” As if on cue, Sirius was speaking again. I fought my smile and faked a sullen expression, fingers crossed behind my back, this was the part where one of us tried to weasel our way out of trouble.

“Exactly, our hearts were in it Professor, truly we had good reason and we weren’t hurting anyone. Shame. Just a shame Dumbledore gave us detention, any more severe punishment just wouldn’t make any sense.” She raised a brow and in a last attempt I put in a word of my own.

“But you’re always so sensible Ms. McGonagall. I’m sure your punishment for us will be well-deserved. Perhaps our outfits were too flashy?” Peter chuckles beside me, and shows her the inside of his robe.

“But this one isn’t at all. Ya see?” He shows her adamantly until she raises a hand and we are drowning in silence, she made us sweat in our palms and neck before speaking.

“Yes. It appears your shenanigans are over. But Lucy is still in the hospital wing scrubbing at her skin, the smell is pungent and unmoving. It seems, Sirius,” She turns to face him, his adam apple bobs, “You did hurt someone. The real shame is that you don’t seem bothered by that fact. Follow me, boys.” She said, turning on us, her robes nearly swinging up and hitting our shins. We follow wordlessly and with our heads down, her words bothered us a little, what really stung was the disappointment on her face and in her frown. (Though Sirius swears he heard her singing along).

She went to Peter’s class first, he went to follow her inside but she raised a hand and said “Oh, you won’t be going to class this morning, Mr.Pettigrew.” She excused Peter herself, whispering into the teachers ear. My heart sank at the realization that I would not be seeing (Y/N) again this morning, James eyes me, my mood obviously changed. I couldn’t even spend any time with them before tonight, our lunch would serve as detention as well. I might never get to see them again after tonight, couldn’t even enjoy this little time I have before the truth is out. I won’t be able to be at peace until tonight or maybe even after, because who will love a monster?

For the rest of the morning we were locked in McGonagall’s empty classroom, writing out letters of apology to be given to Lucy in person later that day. And attempting to come up with a charm or some potion that would reverse the long lasting affect of the Stink Bombs that we have created. Wouldn’t be a marauders prank unless everything was well crafted, would it? But now, our little spell seems to be our downfall. Luckily, we found the right reversion potion, and it was taken to Madame Pom. immediately. By the time we were allowed to leave, the bell for second period had just rang.

I sat through my classes with sweaty hands, and bouncing legs. I agonized in the silence of detention about all that could go wrong, several times I re-debated whether I should really tell (Y/N) the truth, but it was clear that I needed too. I have lied for too long, and it has cost me too much. The truth will set me free...or at least I hope it will. I sat through my very last classes feeling both sick, and determined. Before we knew it, it was dinner time and James, Sirius, Peter and I snuck out of the castle for our final act of salvation. Our last attempt to make things right.

Your POV

The ground was rocky and uneven below my feet, between the clumps of dirt and hidden rocks this trip to Hagrids hut felt more like a mountain climbing experience than anything else. But my breathing was not ragged and exaggerated because of the walk, no, it was because ever since this morning my heart has been beating out of control. I’ve been breathless and filled with both anxiety and warmth since Remus kissed my cheek and handed me this note.

Tonight will mark either the end or the fresh start of our relationship, of our friendship...of our love.

My head is spinning as I stumble over a pumpkin root. What has he been hiding from me? Is it something bad, or big, or maybe something he is just blowing way out of proportion? What if the truth pulls us apart even more than the lies?

I shake my head in an attempt to free myself of this anxiety that swells in my stomach like a churning sea. Whatever it is, I will face it with patience and love, but also self-respect. I repeat this to myself until before I know it, I am at Hagrids hut. The walls of his house seemed to mountain over me, it smelled strongly of firewhiskey, burning firewood,rich dirt and sweet pumpkins. The smell did wonders in calming my mind, but I rather large frown makes its way onto my face as I look around. There was absolutely no one in sight.

I cuss under my breath. Maybe this is the wrong place. Maybe Remus is late? I chew at my bottom lip and take a few large steps around the hut, my eyes keep going back to analyze the trees of the forest. The shadows of the forbidden forest seemed to reach for me. It called for me. As if it was a whirlpool sucking me in I stepped towards it, staring into the layers of dark, large trees.

I held my breath as a bush by the very edge of the forest shook, rustling leaves and snapping twigs filled the brisk night air. I shivered, whether it was from the cold or the sudden fear I was not sure, but I did not have time to debate my feelings because suddenly, a canopy of dark green vines, hanging from the trees shifted.

Large, cream horns parted the vines and drooping tree leaves, a particular branch got stuck on the intricate swirling of the horns and snapped completely as the creature stepped further from the shadows, revealing itself to me.

A beautiful Stag stood proud, it’s thick coat shone under the moonlight, it’s chest puffed out at me with pride. The horns only added to it’s graceful height, but it’s eyes are what truly took my breath away. Those round, warm eyes they were so human. So familiar. Before I could debate it any further, the Stag stamped it’s hoof in the dirt softly, it snorted and white air swirled around it’s soft face. Only then did I notice the beautiful yellow rose, plucked from a bush and resting at it’s front legs.

I bring a shaky hand to my mouth, barely able to comprehended the wave of emotions that nearly knock me to my feet. This was of Remus’s doing. But...how? The Stag inclines it’s head curiously at me to the right, it’s large ears flicking with some sort of impatience, or unrest. Only then did I fully seem to understand the familiarity of this creature.

“James?” I gasp. The Stag seems to stand even taller at me, and...smiles. With my mouth still hanging wide open I let out a boisterous laugh. “James!” I almost yell, the Stag snorts again and leans it’s head down, using his nose to push the rose towards me. The movement doesn’t help me get over my shock, but it stirs me into action. I begin to cautiously walk forwards, and as I do the Stag er, James, picks up the rose between it’s teeth, when I am close enough he softly nuzzles it into my hand. I grip it tightly, it has already been de-thorned.

Carefully, with my free hand, I reach it out just a few inches in front of me and James places his Stag head onto my palm. I pet him softly, he stares up at me and it was as if I was staring at James himself.

“You clever bastard!” I exclaim, I knew how hard becoming Animigus is, but why would he do such a thing? I was broken out of my trance when the Stag (James) begins to walk, slowly at first, he looks back at me and inclines his head first and it was as if I could just hear him saying, in his cheeky manner ‘Ladies first, of course,”

I swallow thickly and fight another bout of paralyzing shock, and instead smile, following James through the forest. His hoofs sinking softly into the ground, the sound was methodic and helped with the strange over pour of emotions I’m feeling.

What happened next, is actually quite embarrassing. It started with a little scamper by my feet. Considering how far we’ve walked into the forest I was more than a bit concerned for my safety, but the large, strong Stag beside me cast most of my fears to the side. Then, through a break of moonlight through the trees I saw it. A large, fat rat!

I screamed so loud, dark ravens flew from their slumbers in the trees. James beside me stomped his feet, and checked the perimeter with analyzing eyes, searching for the danger. But they only found the rat. I never thought a Stag could give such an amused, disappointed expression, yet here I stand. Clinging to a deers ass for dear life, and he is looking back at me with said expression. My cheeks flush and I let go of his furry back, then the Rat very slowly inches towards me.

It’s sharp nose lifting and dancing from side to side, it’s soft brown eyes sparkling up at me. I’d say it even looked a little cute, friendly even. But what unusual behavior, and what unusual eyes. It’s tail glowing under the white light like a plump, pink worm...

“Wormtail!” I realize, laughter bubbling from my chest. The Rat lets out a gleeful squeak and James besides me snorts once again, seeming to laugh. The Rat scurried off into the shadows, and I can’t help but berate myself. Did I hurt his feelings?

But then he comes bounding back into sight, he stands on his back legs and his little Rat face seemed to glow with excitement as his pink hands unveiled a small little white wildflower. The same kind Remus would pick for me on walks we took together. My smile only grows bigger as I do a sweet curtsey and pick up the flower mid-bow, lifting it up to my nose as I stand straight again.

“My apologies, you know I don’t like rats. But I suppose I’ll have to make an exception for you.” I smile down at him, and he reveals two yellow buck teeth, smiling up at me with as much of a smile any rat can muster. I fail to hold in my laughter but extend my arm to him, he climbs up it and perches himself on my shoulder. I hold the two flowers in one hand, and rest my other on James soft shoulder, so I can be led through the dark forest, I knew by know, they were leading me to Remus.

Peter climbs down my other arm and onto James back, then up his head. I laugh as Peter holds on for deer(hehe I’m funny) life as James jokingly waves his head back and forth, Peter almost falls off but I help him back. We all seem to laugh in our own ways, when suddenly a loud bark cuts through the sound of laughter and owls and even the rustling of the woods around us. It was loud and impatient and yet humorous, it reminded me of someone I know well. I smirk, raising a brow I turn to the equally amused Stag and Rat, James and Peter.

“Wormtail. Prongs,” I say, motioning to the Stag who only inclines his head again, “And Padfoot. Let me guess... Sirius is also some animal wandering these woods, finding us by chance? A wolf, perhaps? A dog?” They don’t say a thing, they only begin to walk again. Turning us towards the sound of the echoing bark.

I was on the ground before I knew what was happening. We’ve walked just a few more minutes and then a cloud of black overcame my sense and tackled me to the floor. Black, Sirius Black, was a dog and on top of me. He was barking right by my ear and cuddling me, it wasn’t until two little Rat hands attempted to push his leg that he got off.

I was laughing uncontrollably, this was all too much. Too crazy. I knew they were geniuses, but this... becoming Animagus and though the reason was unclear I could feel it, something to do with Remus. With Moony. The nickname had a new meaning to me, and I wasn’t sure what yet, but I was sure I was about to find out.

Sirius was racing around me in circles as I stood up. His black tail wagging wildly, and his fur rustled and tossed under the wind. I wanted to coo and awe, though his eyes were human and mischievous, the rest of him was adorable and strong. A proud, handsome looking dog. It was clear, by his behavior, that he was just as excited to reveal this big secret, as I was to know the truth.

“Sirius! You dog,” I joke, a bad one on my part but he still barked with laughter and I shook my head, taking in the three of them. This was, Merlin, I didn’t even know what this was other than beyond surprising and impressive. Shocking.

Suddenly, Sirius makes one last dart behind me, he sends me in a spin and by the time I can control my footing he is back in front of me. He is sitting on his back legs, front paws up in the air and bent in a cute trick, his ears flopped forward. Just above his paws, drooping from the jaws of his mouth is a single daffodil. Daffodils, like the one written about in this favorite poem of mine that Remus would read me on bad days, I Wandered Lonely as A Cloud by William Wordsworth.

I sigh, tilting my head to the left, a soft smile on my lips. Everything about this was amazing and sweet. It was amazing that the boys had this whole other life I never knew about, which I’m sure there will be a reasonable explanation for my ignorance because ouch. But sweet, because this was obviously planned my Remus, but the boys were taking their own time to make it happen. I bend down and pat Sirius’s head, the only time he lets me touch his hair, I think, almost laughing. His tail wags as I pluck the flower from his mouth and he lets it fall easily into my hand.

I gather it with my other flowers, now forming a little bouquet and bring the whole lot of them up to my face and inhale. I close my eyes as I smell the sweet and powerful aromas, memories with Remus filled my head, and with it, a warmth filled my chest.

“I hope this hasn’t been all too much for you. I thought some truths would be better seen than told,” Remus says, walking up behind me. I spin around, I didn’t even notice the sound of crunching leaves behind me. But I couldn’t find it in me to speak, the moonlight dancing across Remus’s face, highlighting his eyes, and the soft curves of his lips with the ragged lines of his scars, I was astounded by the boy before me. Once again entranced. All the anxiety, all the fear has left me, as I stared at him clad in fancy pants and a button up to match.

He stops walking, unsure of where he stands with me. I step towards him, finding some clearing in the haze I begin to speak.

“It’s wonderful. They’re wonderful,” I say, turning with a thankful smile to the stag, the rat and the dog. They each in turn, show their teeth at me in an attempt of a smile. I laugh and beside me, Remus does too. With a nod of his head, they turn their backs on us and leave. I no longer needed guidance or safety. Remus stood before me and I felt something that has been missing for the past couple of days. And even though I was in the middle of the dangerous, forbidden forest, I knew that I was also home.

“I love the flowers. I must say, this night has already taken the most unexpected turn it could, but the nicknames definitely make more sense,” I attempt a bad joke, a habit of mine in a nerve wracking situation but Remus only seems to grimace slightly, before turning it into a smile, though it was a rather sad one.

“Well, you seem to be taking this well. Have you figured out mine yet?” He asked, his sad tone surprising me. We were so close his voice dropped low just out of habit it seemed, and because the short distance between us put us in a trance. I missed him. I missed him so much my body now seemed to come back from the dead and reach for him, I was alive again with dancing butterflies and buzzing questions. I glanced down to his lips, before taking a step back.

“No. But I can guess. It makes sense, once every month you seem to leave me. You change into someone who is distant, someone who doesn't seem to love me,” He steps forwards, looking pained by this realization, but as I speak it becomes clearer to me, but I can’t yet reach the conclusion.

“I will never become a person who doesn’t love you. I will change and grow but you will be the one thing that remains. You don’t have to guess anymore, but I want you to know that my love for you will always remain, even if after tonight, we do not,” he speaks with such reverence, like our love was something scared to him and deep down, I knew I felt the same way. It is my first love, and if I can help it, than he will be my only lover until the day I die. All I can do is nod as he steps forwards again, I can see a bead of sweat roll down the apple of his cheek, he was about to tell me. I can feel the shaking of his hands as he places them in mine.

Suddenly, his unbreaking stare leaves me, and in place, find the bright moon. Twinkling in the sky and illuminating us in its wake. I understood in that moment, Moony. A boy mapped with scars. Moony. A boy plagued by nightmares, and insecurities. Moony. A tough, but oh so scared boy who seemed to hate the very night itself. Moony. The boy who changes during the month, and is gone completely on the full moon. Moony. Moony, the Werewolf.

I pull on his hands and gather him into my embrace, pulling back only to kiss him sweetly. The world becomes ours as our lips dance with one another to a song we’ve heard before. It is the song of him making love to me. It is the song of the poems he reads me and the flowers he picks. It is the song of the moons very envy as she watches us together. The song of lovers. It moves us. It moves my hands up his neck and through his hair. It moves his lips across my cheek and jaw and then down my neck. It moves the wind, and the trees around us. It pulls the moans from our mouths and then the confessions.

“My beautiful love,” Remus kisses the words into my skin, up to my lips. “My only love,” he mumbles into my lips, kissing me softly but his hands are bruising at my hips. As if I would leave him if he did not hold me close enough and for forever.

“I love you, Remus ‘Moony’ Lupin. I love all of you and all that you ever will be and all that you have been.” He pulls back from me, his eyes glazed with tears and a softness that makes my heart sing. He nods, and than he laughs. A tear falls from his eyes as his head leans back and he laughs, the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. It was as if all his anxiety, and self-hatred has left him and in their place my words have nestled in. I love him. I love him. I love him.

“I’m a werewolf ya know?” he says, still laughing, he knew I made the connection. At this point it was pre-caution, I roll my eyes and kiss him again. The world is forgotten as we kiss, as we rejoin as one and as lovers. I pull back and softly wipe away his tears.

“I know,” I whisper into his lips, he smiles, giving me a soft kiss. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Remus?” I ask, pulling away from him. He frowns now, his cheeks red with blush, and lips to match.

“I thought I’d lose you forever. That you’d think I was some monster, or- or beast. You always looked at me like I was the world, and I was terrified one day you’d see the real me, and just- well, stop loving me altogether.” While he speaks his eyes still glitter with the promise of tears, and my heart sinks at his words.

“I think I understand your anxiety about it. I can’t imagine how hard it must be. But I would never stop loving you for such a thing, merlin, I don’t think anything could stop me from loving you. I never want you to feel the need to hide from me again, okay?” Remus nods into my hands, I still haven't moved them since I wiped away his tears, it seemed like more keeps falling each time.

“The boys became Animigmus to help with my full moons. It can get pretty bad… but ever since they have come along things really got better, really they did.” he adds when seeing my sad facial expression. My heart felt broken all over again at just the thought of Remus being in pain, alone and suffering. I swore in that moment, I’d do anything in this world to help make things better for him. I nod my head. He continues.

“And Lucy, her older sister is a werewolf. She figured out that I was one pretty quickly, she said I could speak to her about it all, and that she could help somehow. It was nothing more, she just let me complain and even write some letter to her sister. I never even thought of Lucy like the way I think of you. She was always just a friend, but that remains no more. To hell with her,” he says. He can’t stop smiling, a real, golden smile. There was nothing holding him back, I could just tell he felt so much lighter. I took his hand and wordlessly led him to sit on the grass with me. We laid shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the stars together.

He told me in depth about how he was bitten as a child, about how it changed his life. Then when the boys told him they were becoming Animgus for him and all the little moments and adventures they’ve had since. He didn’t sugar coat a thing, he didn’t lie. He was bearing his soul before me for the first time, without any thin veil holding us back and I’ve never felt closer to him. It was well past curfew by the time I felt satisfied with everything he’s told me, I felt both heavy with this knowledge and yet free. I felt included and like I truly knew Remus, and I still did love him. More than ever, I love him.

We laid in silence for some time, my head has moved to lay on his chest and I can hear the steady, warm beating of his heart.

“Can you hear it?” he asks, out of the blue. I strain my ears to listen to the forest around us, I lift my head slightly and he laughs. “No. My heart, can you hear it?” I lean back into him and let out a little laugh myself.

“Oh. Yes,” I smile, “I can hear it.”

“Good. It beats for you.”mhe says, I look up at him only to find that he has already been looking at me. His eyes soft, and smile warm, his heart steady under the palm of my hand and loud within the stillness of the night. It beats for you. His words echoed in my head and I couldn’t help myself, I lean forward and press my lips against him. I could kiss him forever. I could be with him here like this forever, alone and in love, honest and unafraid.

I understood a lot of things that night, more than just about who Remus was and the secrets he has been hiding. More than the truths that he bared and the love that we had. I understood how after all this time of separation and uncertainty. After exhausting ourselves in a sea of sorrow and questions, we have finally found our peace. I have found my happiness. And I realized something rather important. Rapture is a boy. Rapture is love.

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget @beyondprincess @1975weasley @nicodoesntexist @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain @yoyoitsbella @ftwert @sognatrice-as-a-hobby @dontjudgemyobsessionpls @blackpinkdolan

@holdenviolet @katie-lupin05 @acoustic-archie @trishizzl @accio-willtolive-lmao @ilistentotayswifttocope @kopheliablack

#young remus imagine #remus lupin #young remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #harry potter #harry potter fandom #the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #fluff #werewolves #pls im emotional this series is over #young marauders #i love yall

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lexsssu · 3 years

Text

Shall We Date: Worship Me AU - Gabriel (Avatar of Diligence)

What if the MC gets transported to the Celestial Realm instead? What if the angels were the love interests?

GENERAL HCs

Known as the “Voice of God” and as such, is Big G’s primary messenger to the human world and the devildom

Because of this, he’s pretty well-known in the 3 worlds and knows a heck lot of different people

Also has a beautiful voice, the kind you’d want to listen to in an ASMR, podcast, audiobook, etc.

Then again do you really expect God’s voice to have anything other than a beautiful voice?

Like seriously his voice sounds like warm melted dark chocolate

He’s also Uriel’s younger twin brother

While Uriel is more akin to the cool and comforting countenance of the moon, Gabriel has the blazing warmth of the sun

Perpetually smiling, but each smile holds different meanings depending on how big it is, if there was any crookedness to it, if he showed his teeth, etc.

His close friends and family can usually tell which smile is which, but it’s his twin that can ALWAYS tell whatever mood he was in even just from analyzing his smile

Most of the time however, that smile hides a rambunctious imp that particularly likes playing tricks on anyone and everyone

He enjoys freaking people out and relishes the reactions they make. The more exaggerated the reaction, the better

That time Big G talked to Moses by going into that burning bush? It was Gabriel’s bright idea

Seriously though, that memory of him freaking out is one of Gabriel’s most treasured moments

Although truth be told, his all-time favorite reactions are the ones he least expected

One of his favorite pastimes is trying to coax a surprised reaction out of Uriel, seeing as his brother was normally so stone-faced

He feels that it’s his divine mission to get as many reactions out of Uriel as he can

He enjoys tormenting Raphael as much as he enjoys mentoring their youngest brother on how to speak effectively

A master of the art of speaking, so he knows every manner of using one's voice no matter what their intended outcomes were

Whether it's to soothe, anger, or seduce someone, Gabriel knows them all

But he asks a price for his services. You have to call him "Big Brother" sweetly if you want to even remotely get his attention for whatever favor you plan on asking him

Gabriel enjoys teasing others aside from pranking them

The flustered reactions he gets is always a nice treat

Don’t get him wrong though, he enjoys messing with others but it’s all light-hearted fun on his end and is never done with any intended malice

Rather, he actually makes sure that he never touches upon sore spots for anyone

He’s just a prankster, not an asshole

Out of the seven virtues, he also the one who still gets in touch the most with Lucifer and his brothers

He is a messenger after all so it’s a given he sends and receives messages the most

With how many prophecies, signs, and dreams he has to deliver Gabriel is almost always out and about. So he’s actually the one who’s least present in the celestial realm

You’d usually catch him on the rare times where he’s on break or in-between deliveries

Sometimes when he’s in need of a little entertainment during assignments, he’d spice up his deliveries by changing the method of delivering the messages

Like perhaps he was supposed to give a human a sign from Big G through a dream, but that’s so old-school so instead he delivers it when they’re wide awake and by themselves

He can’t possibly pinpoint the fact why some humans went to loony bins after he delivered their messages

P.S. They thought they went mad because of those “divine hallucinations”

A chaotic force of nature in all his white-haired, molten chocolate goodness

Emphasis on CHAOTIC

Like the rest of his brothers, he enjoys spoiling Azrael in the way normal big brothers spoil their younger siblings

Obligatory noogies, random wrestling moves, cheek pinching, etc.

An advocate of "No one can bully my siblings except me"

Frequently gets souvenirs from wherever he'd last gone to. He doesn't just get souvenirs for him though, he also gets some for his brothers

Limited edition keychains for Michael for example, sweets for Azrael, local ingredients for Cainabel, tea leaves for Raphael, a new book for Uriel, and etc.

For some reason people like giving him random stuff. Like he could just be passing by and one of his acquaintances or even someone who he'd never really hung out with but knew of him had just harvested their mango tree and now and a surplus of them, or ordered a bit too much of this or that and would give him their extras instead

That's why his pockets are perpetually full with little snacks, candies, and all a manner of random stuff

When his pockets get too full he pops up in the other virtues' offices to lighten his load so to speak

More often than not, it's Azrael who benefits from his brother's popularity since Gabriel himself doesn't eat too many sweets

He doesn't actually notice just how good-looking he is and couple that with his beautiful voice, you can see how and why he's so popular

His generally sunny and rambunctious personality has also earned him many fans

A fan of collecting stamps and has hundreds upon hundreds of books which contain every stamp that has ever come into existence

Stationery otaku

Michael once gave him a pen, one of those cheap ones you get at dollar stores with a cute character at the top. He still uses it until today and never leaves home without it

Regardless of how tacky something is, if it's from his brothers then Gabriel is sure to use it with happiness and pride

ENG VA: Vic Mignogna

JP VA: Mamoru Miyano

ROMANTIC HCs

He’s already a normally friendly and handsy type of guy so it’s kinda hard to notice if he’s actually romantically interested in you

Heck, even Gabe doesn’t realize that he’s into you for a good while because he believes the way he thinks about and reacts to you was still included in the realm of being platonic friends

So what if his heart does those little flips whenever you laugh good-naturedly at his antics? When you gave him that little smile of yours that he liked to think was reserved solely for him?

It’s probably nothing when his skin heats up a little bit whenever his skin touches yours even for a little bit

What do you mean he’s always hanging around you? You were his best friend so of course he’d almost always be with you!

He’s kind of like a bird in the sense that his attention span is always moving from one thing or another, but the fact that you manage to hold his attention for so long even when you’re not there was something that surprised and baffled his brothers

Most notably Uriel who was used to Gabriel flitting about, kind of like a hummingbird if he was being honest

Also like a bird, Gabriel gets a lot of random trinkets. Both of his own accord and because people just like randomly giving him stuff and if he deems any of them worthy enough for you, he’s sure as heck gonna present it and gift it to you as soon as possible

He practically preens whenever you accept his gifts (it doesn’t help that his wings sometimes pop out in all his happiness and excitement). Even just a little compliment gets him so happy and excited for the rest of the day

Offers you his wing to touch if you show even the slightest interest in their angel wings

“ You wanna touch them? They’re 100% guaranteed SUPER SOFT. I always keep my wings nice and tidy since I gotta keep up appearances as a messenger, ‘ya know? ”

Gabe doesn’t realize/forgets that to offer someone to touch the symbols of his power, his wings of all things, showed that he held you in high regard

It confirmed your purity of soul, because to be judged by an archangel, a Virtue even meant that you were a special type of soul, a diamond in the rough so to speak

Although Gabe himself doesn’t notice it, his brothers definitely notice his sudden fixation on you. It’s almost worrying seeing him sitting still for once

While most people would think Gabe would be as chill as he normally he is when facing the truth of his feelings...he isn’t

Many forget that he and Uriel are twins, born of the same core split into two by the Heavenly Father. They shared much more characteristics than just their looks

Once he’s enamored by something, this angel shows his almost infallible dedication to it and only God sits above it

Like Uriel, he does his best to observe and learn everything about you, but what’s scarier is that he does it so covertly that you don’t even know he’s fishing for information all the while relishing his time with you

It doesn’t help that as the Voice of God, his charms are nigh impossible to resist or even detect so you sometimes don’t even realize that he’s playing you right into the palm of his hands

Oh but you don’t have to worry though, Gabriel loves you with all his heart and only wishes to court you properly and perfectly. That’s another of the traits that he shares with his twin

You’ll never have to worry about him coaxing you into something you won’t like or is bad for you. He merely aims to show you the true extent of his pure love

Dates with him are always at different locations or generally something new, because there’s so much that he wants to show and experience together with you

Karaoke dates are a fan favorite between you two, because who DOESN’T wanna hear the Voice of God himself sing?

Like his voice is already like pouring warm melted dark chocolate to your ears but his voice is enough to send you floating happily into the Celestial Realm

“ So where should we go to next? ...Karaoke again? Do you really love hearing me sing that much, cutie? You know I can sing for you as much as you want. I’m all yours~ ”

#lexsssu writes #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me masters #obey me oc #obey me angels

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dinosaurs-last-day · 3 years

Text

Of Witches and Long Lost Families

This is my gift for @because-were-fam-ily for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange 2020!

Their prompt that I used was magic au, and I also added an nonbinary character since another one of their prompts was nonbinary coming out.

Relationships: platonic dukeceit, eventual romantic intrulogical, familial dukexiety and familial ancxeit.

word count: 5004

warnings: ask to tag

Witches, demons, angels, elves, fairies. All considered mythical creatures to humans, all very real. Most of them live in hiding, unwilling to prove their existence to the non-magical humans, sometimes even fearful of what people would do if they found out the truth.

Janus was one of these magical beings, they were a witch. Like many magical and mythical beings, they preferred to avoid humans, opting to live in the woods that were deemed “haunted.” Because so many magical beings lived in those woods, humans tended to stay away, which led to it being a magical paradise.

Janus lived by themself, spending most of their time perfecting potions and magical spells. When they weren’t working, they were often with their best friend, Remus.

Remus was a demon, a cruel and vulgar species. Remus didn’t live in the forest, he chose to live in the pits of hell, which suited him just fine. Everything about Remus was crazy, from his wild sense of clothing (billowing black shirts with tight leather pants) to his wild purple makeup and dark green demon horns. Remus’ favorite pastime was coming up from Hell to terrorize humans in the village closest to the forest.

Janus was almost the exact opposite. They were calm and careful, full of grace and poise. Janus dressed with elegance, wearing long cloaks and flowing skirts that were practical but still had that dramatic flair that Janus was known for. They wore satin yellow gloves, which served no practical purpose, the gloves were purely because Janus liked them.

Together, the two friends were a force to behold. Remus’ chaotic whimsy and Janus’ calculated cunning worked together better than most people would expect. Most of the time, their schemes were directed at humans who had wandered into the forest or offended the magic folk. Janus insisted on using their powers for protective purposes only, but Remus was known to convince them on pulling a cruel prank every once and awhile. If the two weren’t terrorizing humans, they were probably terrorizing Remus’ rival and brother, the angel Roman.

On the particular morning our story starts, Remus had crawled up from Hell, bored and hoping that Janus could entertain him somehow. He wanted to go and trick his brother or his brother’s friend, but Janus insisted that he was too busy working to go do any of Remus’ crazy ideas. So Remus just sat around Janus’ cabin, moping, complaining and summoning hellhounds to keep him entertained.

“Janny! Why must you insist on being so serious! We’re occult beings damn it! If we want to have a little fun, we should be allowed to have fun!” Remus draped himself across Janus’ couch dramatically, trying to tear Janus away from their work. Janus rolled their eyes and continued to stir the bubbling brew in their cauldron.

“I’m sorry Remus, but I am working. I have to get this potion ready for Logan.”

Remus perked up. “Logan the elf?” Janus nodded. It was common knowledge that Remus was romantically interested in the elven man for a long time. Logan himself was the only one who seemed unaware, but he wasn’t known for being the best at reading social cues. He was the most socially awkward elf that Janus had ever seen, which was saying something since elves were known for being an incredibly social race.

“Are you delivering the potion today?” Remus asked. Janus nodded once again.

“You can tag along if you promise to behave,” Janus told their friend. Remus agreed wholeheartedly that as long as they were going to visit Logan, he would stay out of trouble, specifically, he would refrain from terrorizing Roman.

“Well then let’s go!” Remus was ready to bounce out the door but Janus held him back, reminding him that they had to wait for the potion to be done first. Remus sighed and flopped down on Janus’ couch, waiting impatiently as he summoned another hellhound and began to play with the giant demon dog.

“It’s done,” Janus called, watching as Remus zoomed towards the door and out into the open air. Janus laughed and followed their friend outside, smiling as the sun peeked through the trees.

“Let us be off!” Remus cried dramatically, leading the way. The two headed through the woods towards the more populated area, where Logan lived. They were still a ways away from the town when they heard a rustling in the bushes.

Janus stopped to listen, expecting some sort of rabbit or little fairy to pop out of the brush, but nothing appeared. Remus was starting to get bored, so he began to pull Janus down along the path.

The moment Janus’ back was turned towards the bush, more rustling came and out appeared a young teenager. He was tall and skinny, his vivid violet eyes hidden by the hood he wore over his head. The boy froze when he saw Janus and Remus.

Remus was the first to move, diving for the boy. The boy screamed and held out his hands to keep Remus from flying straight into him.

“Remus no!” Janus yelled. Remus stopped mid flight, suspended in the air as he stared at Janus. The boy went to run away but Janus muttered a spell to immobilize the boy. The boy struggled against the magic for a moment before seeming to give up. Janus walked forward, motioning for Remus to come and stand on the ground.

“What are you doing in the forest, dear boy?” Janus asked, standing in front of the boy. The teenager’s skin was a tan color, partly from being out in the sun and partly because of its natural shade.

“I was running away,” the boy said through gritted teeth. He was glaring at the two mythical beings in front of him, shifting his eyes between the two, unsure of who was the bigger threat.

“Janny, I wanna feed him to my hellhound!” Remus whined, tugging at the witch’s arm.

Janus shook their head. “No, we’re not killing him.” Both Remus and the boy seemed shocked.

“Why aren’t you going to kill me?” The boy asked. “Not that I don’t appreciate it or anything, but he’s a demon,” his glance flicked over to Remus for a moment before returning to Janus. “And I’m assuming you’re a witch. And I’m in your forest.”

“Correct, Remus here is a demon, an annoying one too. And yes, I am a witch. My name is Janus.

“Now, as for why we aren’t going to kill you, even though you are in our forest. I guess you spark my curiosity. You said that you were running away, why?”

The boy looked at the ground for a moment, seeming to consider if he should tell his captors.

“Be honest now, or I’ll let Remus do as he pleases with you. I won’t stop him if he tries to feed you to his army of hellhounds.” Remus clapped his hand in excitement. The boy gulped and looked up.

“I hated it there, the village I mean. I don’t have a family and basically the only reason they kept me around was for working. I don’t know where I’m going, just not there.”

Janus thought for a moment.

“What’s your name kid?” The boy seemed surprised that Janus had even cared to ask, but Janus just stared at him.

“Um, it’s Virgil.”

“Well Virgil, if you don’t know where you’re going, how do you feel about becoming a witch? Having an apprentice would be nice, an extra set of hands and commany for when Remus is too busy terrorizing someone.”

Remus gasped from behind Janus, but they focused on Virgil, waiting for a response. Virgil gulped and nodded.

"I'll become your apprentice. Anything to not be fed to a demon's pet dog." Remus growled, but Janus ignored him. With a few words in an ancient language, Virgil was released from the spell and collapsed to the ground.

"Remus, I'd like you to make the delivery for me. I'll be walking Virgil back to my cabin. We can't have anyone else see a human in our forest." Janus commanded, handing Remus the potion. “And please don’t make Logan uncomfortable, he is a valued customer.”

“Fine, but only because you asked so politely,” Remus said, running down the path, glass vial in hand. Janus sighed, they knew that it was highly unlikely that Remus would actually respect Logan’s boundaries, that’s just how Remus was.

They turned back to the teen who was still sitting on the ground. Virgil was staring up at Janus, his face expressionless.

“Why did you save me?” He asked.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. Now follow me.” Janus headed back towards their cabin, allowing Virgil to follow just a few steps behind him.

“You offered me the option to live. I’m human, why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I don’t know. Something about you draws me in, interests me. But I’ve yet to put my finger on what that something is. I intend to find out though.”

“So I’m some sort of experiment?”

“If you insist on looking at it that way, then sure. But I think of it as an assistant with an interesting past that I intend to find out. Why do you keep asking, would you prefer death? It can be arranged.”

Virgil stopped in his tracks. “No, I prefer this.” Janus turned around, facing the boy.

“Then follow me and stop asking so many silly questions. Questions are for learning.” They turned back around and listened to the sound of Virgil’s feet hitting the dirt path as the boy followed along.

They approached Janus’ cabin, Virgil silently taking in the entire forest. When the two walked through the front door, Janus allowed Virgil to walk around and look at everything. They noticed how Virgil seemed to hang around the storage closet where Janus kept most of their potion ingredients. Virgil was inspecting the different labels, sometimes silently mouthing the names of the different herbs.

Remus came storming into the building right as Virgil was settling down on the couch next to Janus.

“I’m back!” He yelled in a sing-song voice. “Did ya miss me? How’s our new friend doing?”

Janus looked to Virgil, who seemed surprised that he was expected to answer.

“Um, I’m doing fine I guess. As fine as a dude can be in this situation.”

“You going to lay down some ground rules for him, Janny? So if he breaks them, I can feed him to my hellhounds?” Virgil visibly paled at the mention of the demon’s dogs, but neither of the adults paid him any attention.

“Yes, ground rules. First of all, don’t touch anything without permission. We don’t want you to accidentally cause an explosion. Second of all, you can’t leave my property without one of us, that’s for your safety. My garden is open to you whenever you want but outside my fence, if we aren’t there, we can’t protect you from any magical being you stumble across. And lastly, if I happen to have a customer over, it’s probably best that you stay upstairs. Again, this is for your own safety.” Virgil seemed to relax when he realized that the rules weren’t as bad as he originally thought. Remus pouted a little, realizing that he couldn’t actually feed the teenager to the hellhounds with these rules, but he knew better than to argue with Janus.

“So I’m not a prisoner?” Virgil asked.

Janus shook their head. “We’ve already discussed this, you are an assistant. And I’d like to make it clear that if you decide that magic isn’t your thing, you’re free to leave, go wherever you want. But I will not protect you.”

“If you want to leave Jan’s boring potion making lessons, feel free to join me,” Remus said, sliding next to Virgil. Virgil laughed awkwardly.

“Join you?”

“Gimme your soul and you’ll have everything that I have! Become a demon! It’s lots of fun, I promise.”

“No trying to convert my assistant Remus. I doubt the boy is ready to give up his soul just yet.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll keep my soul for now. I kind of like it.”

Janus showed Virgil to the room that he would be staying in and told him that they would begin his lessons in witchcraft first thing in the morning. Right now, Virgil needed sleep. Janus insisted that it had been a very busy afternoon and that practicing magic while not being fully rested was a dangerous game.

The next few weeks went by in a blur to Janus. What stood out to them about living with Virgil was how easily the teen picked up magic. It was like a second nature to him, Janus couldn’t help but wonder if Virgil actually had some mythical ancestry in his past that maybe, he didn’t know about.

Virgil seemed to enjoy learning magic too, he was constantly asking questions about whatever Janus was working on and reading some of Janus’ old spell books in his free time. Remus wouldn’t stop bothering him about selling his soul, but now it was more of a joke, the subject didn’t bother Virgil as much.

And Virgil was really good at following Janus’ rules. He never went past the gates, which he claimed the very idea of heading out alone made him extremely anxious, and he always stayed in his room when there was a visitor, who was usually Logan. Virgil did spend a lot of time in the garden, choosing to read in the sun and warmth of the forest.

One day, while Virgil was off somewhere reading and Janus was busy finishing a potion for Patton the fae, Remus slammed open the door.

“I’m home!” Janus rolled their eyes, used to the demon’s antics. “I brought company!” Remus dragged another person into the cabin. Janus immediately stood up.

“Logan! Hello. Did you come with another potion order?”

Logan, the elf that Remus had been crushing on, was a very serious and simple person. He tended to stick to simple, practical clothes. A fitted navy blue tunic with pants and a half cape that didn’t get in his way. He wore glasses that matched his simple style. Even his accent, a traditional elven dialect, was crisp and simple.

“I’m afraid not Janus. You see, I came here upon Remus’ request.” Janus turned and raised an eyebrow at Remus, who was bouncing up and down on his toes.

“I convinced him to date me!” Remus said, holding onto Logan’s hands.

Janus turned to Logan. “Blink twice if he threatened you into this.” Logan shook his head.

“There was no such threatening. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’ve been spending more time around each other and I do not find Remus unbearable as others do. Quite the opposite actually, I find him quite enjoyable. He has a lot of interesting things to say and knows many things about topics I’ve never looked into.”

“You hear that, Janny? I have a boyfriend! I can’t wait for us to do things together! We can go on adventures together, create cool things, teach Virgil how to-” Remus cut himself off, realizing his mistake too late.

“Virgil?” Logan asked. “Who is Virgil?”

“Virgil is no one, Remus is just being silly,” Janus lied, hoping that Logan would believe them.

“I heard my name, is everything okay?” Virgil said, walking in from the garden, carrying an old spell book. He froze in his tracks when he saw Logan. Janus could see the anxiety rise up inside Virgil, knew that Virgil would probably have a panic attack any second now if this situation wasn’t taken care of immediately. But they didn’t know what to do.

“Are you a human?” Logan asked, stepping forward. Virgil immediately took two steps backward, remaining silent. Logan didn’t seem to realize how scared Virgil was, continuing to walk towards him, backing Virgil into a wall as he examined the boy. “Goodness, you are human. How interesting.”

Remus was the first one to truly react. “That’s actually one of my little demons in training! Not a human at all!” Remus had always been the worst liar that Janus had ever seen.

“No, this boy is human, and quite an interesting one at that,” Logan mused, continuing to study Virgil. He noticed the book that Virgil was clutching to his chest.

“Can you read that? Understand it?” He asked. Unsure of what to do, Virgil nodded. His breathing was becoming rapid.

“Fascinating. Can you brew potions, perform simple spells?” Another nod. Janus moved, slipping in between Logan and Virgil, motioning for Virgil to go outside. The teen obeyed immediately, sitting in the grass, out of sight of Logan. He focused on steadying his breathing. Janus would take care of this.

“You can’t tell anyone he’s here. You know what some of them would do if they found out,” Janus pleaded.

“Don’t be ridiculous, he has just as much a right to live in this forest, just like every other mythical creature here.”

Janus raised an eyebrow as the three adults moved to the couch. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think it’s funny that a human boy can perform magic? And did you see what he was reading, those weren’t simple spells that he was studying. I think it’s more than safe to say he has witches’ blood. How ever did you find him?”

Janus and Remus worked together to tell the story of how they found Virgil and brought him back to the cabin. Logan listened in rapt attention and thought a few minutes after they had finished telling the story.

“Did you ever figure out what drew you to him?” Logan finally asked Janus.

“No. For all I know, it was just chance,” they said.

“I want to do some research back at my library, but I’m almost 100% sure that boy has witch’s blood in his veins. That would explain everything. Why he was drawn to this forest, why you decided to help him, why he’s so good at magic. I’m sure if you asked him, that would even explain why he decided to leave his home.”

"So, Virgil can stay?" Remus asked. Logan nodded and Remus immediately moved so that he was sitting next to his boyfriend, as if he had kept space between them in case Logan said that Virgil had to leave.

Logan left, insisting that he had to start immediately on his research into Virgil’s family history, leaving Janus and Remus alone. The moment that they were sure that Logan was gone, Janus ran into the garden, followed by Remus.

The two adults found Virgil under a tree, tearing at the grass as if that would calm him down. He looked up when he heard them running towards him. Janus could still see panic in the teenager’s eyes.

“I’m going to have to leave, aren’t I?” The sentence was like being stabbed through the heart with a sharp sword, Janus felt so much pain over it. Remus practically threw himself on the ground, pulling Virgil into a hug and holding him close. Janus joined the hug, keeping his own sobs at bay.

“You aren’t going to leave,” Remus said. Out of all of them, Remus was definitely the calmest in the moment, which was very strange. But Janus couldn’t focus on it at the moment. “If Janus tries to kick you out, I’ll feed them to my hellhounds and you’ll come with me.”

“Of course I’m not going to kick you out or make you leave. If you want to stay, then I’d be more than happy to let you. You’re family by now.” Janus reached over and wiped a tear off of Virgil’s cheek. Virgil sniffled, trying to pull himself together.

“But what about that elf?” Virgil asked between sniffles. “Won’t he try to get rid of me?”

“Logan? He would never.” Remus looked slightly offended on his boyfriend’s behalf, but only slightly.

Janus smiled. “He thinks that you’re like me. He thinks that you’re actually a witch.”

Virgil’s jaw dropped a few inches. “But I’m human!”

“Virgil, do you know anything about your family? You never talk about them.” Janus knew that Virgil’s answer to this question could tell them more than all of Logan’s research put together.

Virgil shook his head solemnly. “I don’t know.”

“Then I think it’s safe to say that the odds that one of your ancestors was a witch is very possible. Virgil, you’re the best student I’ve ever seen. You pick up concepts and skills quicker than anyone I know.”

“So I’m a witch?” Virgil looked at the spell book lying on the ground next to him with a new found appreciation.

“Quite possibly.”

“Logan is looking into it right now,” Remus said. “He has a whole library full of books and he thinks one might contain a family tree that you should be a part of, if you aren’t already.”

“So I can stay?”

“Yes, of course you can stay.”

“I’d like to see Virgil.”

Janus looked up from their work, and made eye contact with Logan, who was standing in the front doorway.

“Well hello to you too Logan. It’s a pleasure to see you in my house.”

“This is important. I want to speak to Virgil. I think I may have found his family.”

Janus dropped what they were doing, and immediately walked over to Logan.

“You think so? Wow, that’s amazing.”

“So can I see him?” Logan seemed slightly impatient, not unusual to him. Logan liked to know things, and not knowing things made him uncomfortable. Janus could tell that this was one of those moments where he didn’t know something and he expected Virgil to have the answers.

“I’m afraid that Virgil isn’t home right now. Remus took him down to hell to see the new hellhound puppies. I don’t know exactly when they’ll be back, but you’re welcome to wait here until them.”

Logan nodded and thanked Janus before sitting down on the couch. Janus watched the elf for a minute, noting how his leg bounced in anticipation. For Logan’s sake, they hoped that Remus and Virgil would be back soon.

The sound of two people shouting excitedly was what alerted Logan and Janus that Remus and Virgil had returned. Logan had been waiting on Janus’ couch for nearly an hour, sitting in silence with his leg bouncing. When he heard them, Logan practically leaped off the couch.

Remus kicked the door open, floating inside. Virgil followed, excitedly explaining something to Remus, his hands waving around his head as he talked. He immediately stopped talking when he saw Logan.

“Lolo!” Remus said, throwing himself at his boyfriend. Logan kissed Remus quickly before turning back to Virgil.

“I’m sorry to spoil your conversation Virgil but do you have a moment? I’d like to talk to you, in private.” Virgil’s glance immediately shot to Janus, looking for an answer as to what was going on. Janus mouthed the word family and Virgil seemed to understand.

“Sure, yeah, would you like to walk in the garden or talk in my room?” Virgil asked Logan. Logan fidgeted with his glasses.

“The garden is fine. This will only take a minute.” Janus and Remus watched as Logan followed Virgil out the door into the back garden. The moment that they were out of sight, Remus turned on his heels and demanded an explanation from Janus.

“Logan showed up to speak to Virgil about an hour ago,” They explained. “Said it had to do with his family. I can only hope that it's good news.”

“Jan,” Remus sat down on the couch, his voice soft as if he was afraid to say what he was about to say. “What if Virgil finds his family? What if they’re nearby and he wants to live with them?”

Janus hadn’t even thought about this, but it made sense that Virgil would want to live with his real family, not with Janus and Remus. They sat down next to Remus, resting their head on the demon’s shoulder.

“I guess all we can do is support him. It’s his family, we don’t get to claim that title. He’ll probably still want to spend time with us.”

“And if he doesn’t? What if he prefers his new family, his real family, to us and never wants to speak to us again?” It was rare for Remus to worry about something, which indicated to Janus how much this was bugging Remus.

“Well, then we’ll just have to accept that. There’s nothing we can do.”

They sat in silence for a minute, letting the thought of losing Virgil settle in their minds. When Virgil and Logan walked in the house, they both jumped up to greet them. Logan stood near the door in silence while Virgil walked over to the two adults.

“So, do you know who your family is?” Remus asked, hovering a few inches over Virgil. The teenager nodded. Remus sank down to the floor, leaning on Janus for support.

“Are you going to stay with them?” Janus asked softly.

“My family was a line of powerful witches, but Logan says that nobody knows what happened to them. They don’t live in the forest anymore.” Remus stood a little straighter, hope glimmered in his eyes.

“So that means you’re staying?” He asked. Janus tried not to smile, but he felt just as hopeful as Remus looked.

“I wouldn’t know where to start looking for my family. Besides, you guys are my real family now and I could never leave you.” Virgil wrapped his arms around both Janus and Remus, holding them close in a tight group hug. They hugged him back, both feeling full of joy and gratefulness. Remus looked up and motioned for Logan to join the hug, who agreed slightly reluctantly. The four of them were a family. An odd family, but a family nonetheless.

“Virgil, if you don’t stir that right now, it’s going to explode!” Janus shouted, watching in horror as Virgil stood over the cauldron. Sure enough, the liquid in the pot let out a great popping noise as the room was enveloped in smoke and the two stood coughing. When the smoke cleared, the cauldron was empty, with a burnt smell coming from the bottom.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, immediately going to clean up. He was laughing slightly at his mistake. Janus couldn’t help but smile, mistakes were rare with Virgil, he was so good at witchcraft.

“Don’t tell Remus, he’ll be praising you for trying to kill us both and I don’t think I can live with that,” they joked, helping Virgil clean up.

“Don’t worry. You know what Logan would say if he heard that I made such a rookie mistake? I’d never hear the end of it!”

“Roman stopped by the other day, while you were out with Logan. He said that you and Remus were causing problems again.” Janus watched as the teen’s face turned a bright pink. Pranking with Remus had become a common pastime for the young boy, but Janus never found the heart to tell him to stop. Often, they found the silly tricks funny and couldn’t help but laugh at how Remus’ brother always reacted. Roman was quite a dramatic angel. If him and Remus got along, they would be quite a force to be reckoned with.

“It’s not my fault! Remus was upset at something Roman said and he had the perfect revenge plan! I only used one spell and it wasn’t even that powerful!” Virgil defended himself but stopped when he saw that Janus wasn’t angry.

“Just don’t get caught next time,” they warned Virgil. “I’ll have to tell the same thing to Remus. I swear, the two of you together are like two small children. I don’t know how Logan doesn’t go insane dating that menace.”

“Did someone say menace?” Remus asked, popping his head through the front door.

“Yes, we were just talking about you,” Janus said.

“I knew it! I am the most menacing menace this forest has ever seen you know!” Remus floated into the house, followed by Logan, who was rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s absurdity.

“Are you all prepared for the family picnic?” Logan asked. Janus nodded, grabbing the large basket of food that they had prepared from the counter.

“I’ll carry that!” Virgil said, grabbing the heavy basket before Janus could object. He had to adjust his hold on it a few times before he was comfortable carrying it, leading the way out the back door through the gardens.

They set up the picnic under a large tree that was older than all of them put together. Logan took a few moments to tell Virgil about the tree’s magical properties, who listened in rapt attention. Janus would have listened, but he was busy stopping Remus from eating all the mini pies.

“You know, I’m glad I didn’t feed you to my hellhounds,” Remus told Virgil. “You’re a good kid.”

“You could never feed me to them anyways, I’m too powerful and besides, they like me more than they like you.” Remus let out a dramatic gasp, offended. Virgil smirked, continuing to mock Remus.

“You guys ready for lunch?” Janus asked. Everybody sat down and waited. Janus smiled at their friends gathered around on the blanket. He thought of how close they had grown, how many memories they had made.

Janus held up a drink, indicating that they wanted to make a toast. The others followed suit.

“To family, however strange we may be.” The others repeated the words and dug in. Once, Virgil looked up and smiled at Janus. Janus was sure that they would be speaking for everyone under that tree when they said that family was the best thing to ever happen to them. The odd, mixed family, with all of it’s magic, was probably the greatest thing in the world.

#sanders sides #intrulogical #platonic dukeceit #platonic dukexiety #platonic anxceit #ts remus #remus sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #nonbinary janus #ts logan #logan sanders #tss short story #remy writes #happy holidays #i hope you like this!

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

vernon; blossomed (m)

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

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

word count: 12k

Vernon called you his Rose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not funny.”

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

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

“Sick,” Yoongi shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

[June 11, 11:33PM]

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

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

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

Bernie: tf is wrong w all of you

Bernie: SHES HEREEEEEE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too.”

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

You couldn’t wait until the flower shop closed.

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

“Are you stalking the tattoo guy?”

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

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

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

“I already said I wasn’t!”

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

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

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

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

But Vernon made everything so, so easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought he wasn’t an apprentice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minghao nodded approvingly, "We can try."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beautiful. Vernon made you beautiful.

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

“And, done.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what did you want to ask me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you agreed, pretending to fall asleep.

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

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

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

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

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

“Cold?” Vernon asked casually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, Vernon looked terrified.

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

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

"The fuck is this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The city was daring. The city was unforgiving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How are you?” He asked casually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Big time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[February 19, 2:10PM]

Vern: Is this still your number

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

Vern: IMG.934

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

You: hey look, there’s perry

Vern: nice

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

Vern: are u just a perry enthusiast

Vern: evidence pls

[February 19th, 6:08PM]

You: IMG.48

[February 20th, 12:22AM]

Vern: ooh

Vern: look cute in my hoodie

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

[February 27, 5:34PM]

Vern: what are you up to

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

Vern: that’s the spirit

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

[March 8th, 10:10PM]

You: hey

You: you up?

Vern: nah. mastered the art of sleep textin

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

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

Vern: wait forreal?

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

You: so soon? What happened to being busy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what do those mean?”

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

“Why renewal?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Freesias and pink roses.)

(His tattoo was also very cute.)

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

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

The Boy who Sings Next Door, Pt 1

Genre: just-out-of-college AU

Pairings: Pre-romantic/romantic Prinxiety, pre-romantic Logicality

Content: general anxiety/allusions to past panic attacks, (it’s Virgil, c’mon), food mentions, a lil yappy puppy, Hamilton songs (it’s Roman, c’mon), just the boys being super gay.

Word count: 2.6k

Comments: I’ve been in a bit of a funk (not the good kind of funk) recently, and this is the only thing I’ve been able to churn out during it. It will have a part two, don’t worry. Gotta get that good Prinxiety content.

Comments (the sequel): This took almost a week to write due to said funk, so I apologize for any inconsistency that appears. I have edited this as much as my brain let me, so it should be good.

Virgil hadn’t lived there for long. In fact, it was just nearing the one month anniversary of the day his two roommates and him had moved into the townhouse complex on the grungier side of town. They were still getting to know the house; the basement Virgil swore was haunted, the crudely attached cabinets that Patton very nearly pulled down every time the shorter man had to climb the counter to reach the top shelf, and especially the upstairs bathroom’s shower that would become scalding hot if someone flushed a toilet while it was running. Janus’ shriek was something Virgil wished he could have recorded on camera.

Meeting his new neighbours was still a fear he had to get over. Patton had already introduced himself to all of them (on the first day living there, with cookies, nonetheless), and was eagerly awaiting the day when Virgil would give the ‘okay’ to invite some of them over for dinner. He was especially excited about the man who lived to their left, a professor at the university across town that Patton claimed he had clicked with.

“A professor? How old is he?”

“He looked like he was our age!”

“A professor who’s twenty two?”

“Well… maybe he’s really smart! Or has a great skincare routine!”

Despite Patton’s obvious infatuations with the guy, Virgil was hesitant to meet him. He’d already had a less than promising accidental run in with the old man living on their right, incited by Janus parking in the wrong spot and poor Virgil being the one to open the door to the screaming neighbor. It had taken him twenty minutes to calm down from that panic attack. But after too many rounds of Patton’s puppy eyes, Virgil gave in.

“Only the one guy though, and I get to have a code word in case I need to leave.”

“Okay! What’s the code word?”

“I don’t know. You pick.”

“Tiddylicious?”

“SHUT THE HELL UP, JANUS!”

Surprisingly, Virgil didn’t have to use the code word (which was not tiddylicious). Logan was a pretty great guy, if slightly lacking in the ‘emoting’ department. Patton and him got on like fire in a library, and his roommates happy wiggles the whole night was probably what gave the anxious man the bravado to stick through it. Janus even had the decency to make some honest conversation, which was a first for him. Logan eventually mentioned the fact that he had a dog, and the conversation immediately derailed into Patton squealing over the pictures he showed him. They took this as the opportunity to sneak away from the two, giving them the space they obviously needed. Gross.

There was a line stretching across Logan’s backyard; a red cable that connected to his deck and reached to the fence on the opposite side. From this cord hung a pink leash, and to this pink leash, Logan attached his dog several times a day. Virgil didn’t know what the signal was for them, but every couple of hours, the sliding door would screech open and the dog would run to the gate closing off the porch, waiting impatiently until Logan clipped on the leash and let it run onto the lawn. The first time the small dog saw Virgil on his phone in the shade of his roof, it immediately took this as a grave act of terrorism and began to yap so loud that Virgil screamed. Logan quickly came back out, explaining that while his pup may have the intimidation factor of a stuffed animal, she thought all the grass of her yard and of the adjoining houses was hers to protect, even if the terrier was just about the size of a decent Thanksgiving turkey. A few head scratches later, and the two decently bonded, enough that she wouldn’t throw a hissy fit every time he sat on his porch.

That’s where he was now, half asleep in a lawn chair with one earbud in, when the tell tale squeak of Logan’s sliding door startled him from his rest. He reached up lazily and popped out his music, smiling slightly at the prospect of another conversation with Logan. Despite their age difference (it wasn’t all that much, but just enough that he got confused stares from the elder when he mentioned the prospect of ‘stealing someone’s kneecaps’), they were starting to become good friends. His hand froze, however, as he heard a voice that was very much not Logan’s coming from the man’s deck.

“Dear Alexander,

I am slow to anger,

But I, tow the line,

As I reckon with the offense of your,

Life on mine.”

And if Virgil said he didn’t immediately feel butterflies at the soft lilting of the deep voice, he would be lying. He shrunk back into his shirt, hoping the other wouldn’t glance over the short bush between them and see his blushing face. Even if he wasn’t infatuated with whoever was letting Logan’s dog out, it wasn’t like him to try and meet someone new.

The screen door shut with a loud whap and the dog pulled at the red cord as hard as she possibly could, trying to get free pets from Virgil. He obliged, but made sure to duck back to his side as soon as the door reopened.

“Raise a glass to freedom,

Something they can never take away,

No matter what they tell you.”

He lurched back into his own house at the sound of that gorgeous voice, slamming the sliding door and consequently scaring the hell out of Patton.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What’s gotten you in such a hullabaloo?” Patton squinted from his table of crafting supplies, where it looked like he was putting together more pages for his scrapbook.

“I’m gay.”

“Ah,” The older man scrunched his eyebrows together, setting down his glue stick, “For Logan…?”

“No! Logan’s yours, don’t worry,” he ignored Patton’s indignant spluttering and blushing, satisfied that he wasn’t the only disaster gay in the room now, “Someone else is at his house.”

“Someone cute?” He was suddenly very interested in his book, trying to hide his red cheeks.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you in gay mode?”

“His voice.”

“His voice?”

“Quit laughing at me!” Virgil snarled non aggressively, refusing to meet Patton’s bright eyes.

“I’m not, I swear!” Patton giggled nonetheless, “It’s cute! I’ll have to hear it for myself sometime.” Virgil huffed, despite his growing smile, and went to his room, too overwhelmed to wait outside for the voice again, no matter how much his heart wanted to.

A couple days later, Patton showed up in his open doorway (it was his attempt to be less antisocial, and it made his housemates happy) grinning like a child who’d just gotten a puppy.

“I just talked to Logan-”

“Oh?” Virgil smirked, closing his laptop in favor of tea.

“Oh, shush. He just said during the summer, he has these fancy shmancy teaching seminars every weekend just out of town.”

“So?”

“Sooo…” Patton wiggled a little, sticking his tongue between his teeth, “When he’s not home, his brother watches Gremmy!”

“Gremmy?”

“How do you not know the puppy’s name? And also, you’re focusing on the wrong part of the sentence! His brother is going to be there every weekend, all summer!”

Virgil tried to digest the butterflies that exploded in his gut, failing to hide his reappearing blush. “So? We don’t even know if he’s our age, or if he’s into guys.”

Patton dropped his gaze, sucking his lips into his mouth in a vain attempt to smother his smile.

“Patton?”

“He’s our age and he’s into guys,” He squeaked.

“You asked?!”

“It came up naturally!”

“How?!”

“Not important!” He was full on beaming now, hopping on his toes. “You should totally talk to him next weekend!”

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

The following Friday, Virgil found himself sitting on his deck under the roof, scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he happened to see a new car pull into Logan’s spot thirty minutes after the man left. Nothing like that at all. He sipped absentmindedly on the lemonade Patton had brought him with a cheeky look on his face, trying not to think about the fact that the angel voiced man was right next door. And his heart absolutely did not begin to pound when the tell tale screeching of the screen door sounded.

This time, music accompanied the man’s singing as he hooked the dog, Gremmy, onto her leash.

“Angelica,

Eliza,

And Peggy,

The Schuyler sisters,

Angelica (Peggy) Eliza (Work!)”

Even if Virgil had only heard his voice once, it seemed fitting that he was trying to sing every part, altering slightly to nail the voice changes of every character. He curled up a little more in his chair as the man followed Gremmy out onto the lawn, music still pumping from his phone.

“Daddy said to be home by sundown,

Daddy doesn’t need to know,

Daddy said not to go downtown,

Like I said, you’re free to go.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe, but that was the heat’s fault. It definitely wasn’t caused by the gorgeous man now dancing in small circles on the grass, dog jumping at his feet as he laughed along to the music. The sudden warmth in his face was caused by the sun, not the toned muscle of the man’s arms, or the way his much too loose muscle tee showed off his tan, or how his light brown hair flopped over his eyes when he bent down to pick up a stick from the ground. All while singing; just carelessly enjoying himself.

“Angelica, remind me what we’re looking for?

(She’s looking for me!)

Eliza, I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

Woah, woah, woah, woah, work!”

The harmonies were too much, his voice flawlessly adding a fourth harmony where there wasn’t in the song. Virgil jumped like a spooked cat, fleeing into the house and drawing the curtains shut hurriedly. He knew the other man had probably heard the door slam, but that wasn’t his main concern right now.

“Gay panic?”

Virgil spun around to see Janus, all too bemused, sipping Gatorade out of a wine glass. The man’s sense of class would not be affected by the time of day. “Gay panic,” He confirmed weakly, sliding down the wall, “He’s hot.”

“Let me see.”

“Janus, no, what are you doing?!”

The taller man pulled the curtain aside, humming under his breath. “Oh yeah, he is hot.”

“Jan, stop!” He hissed, trying to tug Janus’ arm down from the curtain without being seen.

“Oh, he’s waving at me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Can I wave back?”

“NO!”

Janus waved back, kicking Virgil lightly out of sight. “Let go of my sleeve, fucker.”

Virgil did, booking it upstairs as soon as Janus dropped the curtain. He flopped onto his bed with a groan that was almost loud enough to be a shriek, swearing to himself to not go outside for the rest of the weekend. And to kill Janus later. He did leave his window open though, but not because he wanted to keep hearing the snippets of song that floated up to his room every time the sliding glass next door opened. Not at all.

Virgil hated that he ended up counting down the days until Friday, and that he couldn’t tear himself away from the window until he arrived. Responding to his housemates giggles and stares with a quick flip of the bird, he took his usual spot on the deck. Because the weather was nice, and he needs a tan. No other reason. Not that he would say out loud, anyways.

He didn’t have to wait long until the door scratched open and a calm, almost haunting melody reached his ears. He’s singing along to a track again, mixing in harmonies that send shivers up Virgil’s spine.

“I saved every letter you wrote me,

From the moment I read them I knew you were mine,

You said you were mine,

I thought you were- Shit, Gremmy, no, get back here!”

Virgil jolted upright as twenty pounds of fluff landed in his chest, paws digging into his sternum. The dog looked up at him with, dare he say, smug eyes? He ran a hand through the fur on her back, holding her collar with one hand in case she decided to bolt again.

“I am so sorry! She wormed out of the gate before I got the leash on her!”

He looked up from the dog and holy hell oh my god he’s way hotter up close. Never before in his life had he wished for Patton’s bubbliness or Janus’ general aloofness, but now he would rather have any personality trait besides anxious because oh god the hottest guy he’d ever met is staring at him and he has no idea what to say.

“Well, good thing she likes me, or you’d be down a dog.” What the hell was that?

Surprisingly, the other man laughed, folding his arms across his chest. “What, you don’t think I’d be able to catch her?”

“In all honesty, probably not.”

“How dare you!” He gasped, holding a hand to his chest dramatically, “I’ll have you know Gremmy loves me!”

“I’m sure that’s why she booked it as soon as she had the chance.” He extended the dog almost comically, her too short legs waving frantically in his grip. The man took her with a murmur of thanks, giving her a stern look that made Virgil snicker. A part of him was slightly shocked that someone related to Logan could be so… relaxed. The older man seemed held together purely by stress and logic, never without a collared shirt and tie, and he would definitely never be seen in the plain white v-neck this guy was wearing really well.

“So, you’re Logan’s brother?” Where the hell was this courage coming from?!

“Yup. You know him?”

“About as well as I know any of my neighbors. So, barely. But he’s close with my roommate.”

The man’s expression turned to glee as he shifted the dog in his arms. She seemed unhappy being held when there were birds to be chased, but her struggle was lazy. “Patton, right? I’ve heard a lot about him.”

“Oh?”

He hummed happily, fiddling with Gremmy’s collar. “It’s about time Logan found someone who makes him happy. We never really understood each other when it comes to interacting with other people. He’s more secluded nerd, and I’m more…” He trailed off, waving his fingers under the dog cluelessly.

“More theatre nerd?” Virgil guessed, pleased with the way the man’s eyebrows flew up.

“How’d you guess that?”

“You’ve been singing a different Hamilton song every time you’ve taken the dog out.”

Instead of looking embarrassed or upset like Virgil would definitely be in his situation, he seemed to puff up more, almost delighted.

“Ah, I thought I had an audience! That was you?”

Virgil could feel his face turning beet red, much to his chagrin. This was it, this was the moment he died. Let the earth open up and swallow him whole, his little pride had been too wounded to continue. The man took his silence as answer enough, seemingly pleased with the reaction.

“I’m Roman,” The man grinned, holding out his hand. He took it hesitantly, the touch sending a shock up his spine that he was barely able to suppress.

“Virgil.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Virgil.”

He couldn’t help the authentic smile that tugged on his lips as they shook hands, Gremmy dangling from Roman’s other arm like a football.

“You too, Roman.”

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #hamilton #sanderssidesfanfiction

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wonderlustlucas · 4 years

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i hemoglobin you - byun baekhyun

⇢ prompt “Yeah, but Baekhyun doesn’t really talk romantics with me.” ⇢ pairing baekhyun x gender neutral reader ⇢ word count 4.8k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. kinda descriptive when it comes to the actual needle idk i’m bad at warnings if needles make u uncomfy don’t read. ⇢ summary You’d think, after some time, your crush on the annoying little shit named Byun Baekhyun would fade away. Fortunately for him (and you), falling out of love with someone brighter than a star is near impossible. Plus, needles are scary and even med kids need their hand held sometimes. Alternatively: Junmyeon found dead in a ditch.—friends to lovers!au ; college blood drive!au ⇢ a/n ok yes i realize this is an odd setting for fanfiction but like,,, my school had a blood drive & what happens in this is exactly what i experienced, minus the whole crush revealing they like me with a kiss thing. so i decided to WRITE IT OKAY?! also, i really tried to make this gender, color, absolutely everything reader neutral but then when i was editing i saw the nurse call y/n ‘miss’ so if i missed anything pls lmk so i can edit it!!! thank u & i hope u enjoy ♥︎

If it weren’t for that time you tried anal with your ex-boyfriend back in high school, you’d consider Byun Baekhyun to be the biggest pain in your ass. If asked, you definitely could come up with a hefty list of all the things about him that annoy the living daylights out of you, things from the unnecessary high volume of his voice to the time he introduced himself as “Bacon” on the first day of your internship at the hospital.

Truthfully, however, it all comes down to one certain realization: seeing Baekhyun’s stupidly cute smile has become the sole thing you look forward to everyday. For the first two years at university, you did not know Byun Baekhyun. You knew of him. As fate would have it, you were bound to meet at some point with an undergraduate enrollment of around four thousand, and your sanity began its downward tumble the third week of junior year.

At the time, you couldn’t quite put your finger on why he left such a sour taste in your mouth. From a distance, he was a star; this great, big bundle of sunshine and joy, full of life and spirit and in the eyes of someone as mild-mannered as yourself, he was magnificent and everything you wished you were. But, once the barrier between you fell and your relationship swiftly jumped from strangers to friends, you realized just how polar opposite you were. Always going out of his way to meet new people and a little too chaotic for you personally, Baekhyun draws attention to himself without even trying. And you can’t blame him— it’s hard to go unnoticed when you prance around with a thousand-watt smile and the energy of a three-month-old golden retriever.

Sometimes, you wished he had chosen one of the arts as his major rather than health sciences.

Nevertheless, it is hard to ignore such an innocently beautiful soul such as Baekhyun. No matter how many times you told yourself to find a new lab partner, no matter how many countless nights you found yourself rolling out of bed, bundled up in your blankets and into the cold hallway of your residence hall to knock on Park Chanyeol’s door and tell him to open the window for his frost-bitten roommate hiding in the bushes, no matter how many this or how many that’s, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the friendship and chaos that came with Byun Baekhyun.

If it weren’t for that time you tried anal with your ex-boyfriend back in high school, you’d consider Byun Baekhyun to be the love of your life.

“Absolutely not,” you interrupt, looking up from your clipboard in order to search the crowd for the younger boy. Baekhyun groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and dropping his head on your shoulder. “C’mon, ___. He’s fine, you know Sehun.” He whines, adding a drawn-out ‘please’ against your ear. It makes your stomach sink for reasons you’d rather not disclose.

“Baek,” you scoff, wiggling out of his grip despite his best efforts of keeping you against him, “are you serious? Sehun quite possibly may be the smallest person in this room. He needs to rest.”

“He’s twenty pounds heavier than me!”

“Taller, too.”

“___,” he groans, crossing his arms over his chest and mustering his best straight face. It makes you laugh.

“I’m not arguing with you. He did Power Red; he’s not going anywhere. If he didn’t want to miss chem, then he should have made his appointment later. It’s one class. He’ll be fine.”

“Why must you be so stubborn?” Baekhyun sighs in defeat, combing muted silver hair away from his forehead. Your eyes follow the movement, distracted for hardly a second, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I learned it from you,” you smile, nudging his arm with your elbow. The signature tilted smirk returns. “Tell Sehun I’m sorry, but I—well, we—can’t risk letting him leave. He could have a delayed effect and end up passed out in the staircase. Twenty more minutes and he can go.”

“I get it,” he hums, snatching the tentative schedule out of your hands before you can even protest. For as rash as he may be, Baekhyun is not dumb. And even if he was, he knows that when you are as unrelenting as you are now, there’s no point in arguing. “I think I’m gonna try and donate.”

“What?” You exclaim, maybe a little too loud if all the Red Cross employees shooting annoyed glares your way is anything to go by. Baekhyun truly is started to rub off on you. “I thought you were scared of needles?”

“Heights, ___,” he scoffs, “needles aren’t my favorite, but if I’m going to eventually put them in other people, I better get used to them for myself.” As he explains, he rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie and presses at the soft skin on the inside of his arm before stretching it out for your examination. “I mean,” you hum, holding him still and feeling around for a thick enough vein, “you definitely have the veins. Do you want me to hold your hand?” You sing the last part cutely, lips puckered out at him.

“Will you? Since Sehun has to stay over there, I have no one else,” Baekhyun retorts, using your previous resolve to his advantage. You can’t tell if he’s oblivious or simply choosing to ignore your mockery. Rolling your eyes, you drop his arm and reach for your clipboard, tearing it out of his grasp. “Don’t you have anything else better to do than annoy me? Aren’t you supposed to be watching the donors?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Baekhyun starts, trailing behind you before the shout of his name promptly cuts him off. “Baekhyun! Can you help Jongdae carry in more water?” See, precisely as you were saying.

“But I like annoying you,” he pouts, hugging onto your arm and holding on tight. “Sorry, Baek,” you offer, feelings in shambles because 1) he is so cute you could cry but 2) he’s really distracting and now you finally will be able to focus, at least while he’s gone. Frowning, he releases your arm at last, combing his hair back and once again, you feel like throwing up.

“Go see if you can donate when you’re done,” you remind him, nodding toward the rather quiet donor room. “Yeah, I will. Wish me luck,” Baekhyun grins, blowing you a kiss. Without a second thought, you blow one back.

You have begun walking on an incredibly unstable rope, you realize, the thin line distinguishing the way you look at Baekhyun diminishing each and every day. On one side, he is simply your friend, your lab partner, a coworker of sorts. Comrades working toward the same goal, and once it’s reached, you go your separate ways. But on the other hand, he is much more than that. Now that you no longer live on campus, days spent bullshitting in the dining hall or dorms over, you most certainly do not spend as much time together.

And yet, nothing has changed. Except for your feelings, of course. This time last year, you were minding your own damn business when Chanyeol had to go and mention how much time Baekhyun spends with you instead of him. “Sorry?” You had offered, unsure of what the crease in his brow meant.

“No… don’t be sorry,” he hummed, deep in thought and stabbing at his salad in disinterest, “not to be blunt, but he usually bounces from person to person each week. He’s been sticking to you for, what, six months? Something is up.”

“Don’t you live with him?” You asked, confused. What was he getting at here?

“Yeah, but Baekhyun doesn’t really talk romantics with me.”

“Romantics?” You exclaimed, spit flying from your lips. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

“He definitely likes you. God, it all makes sense now! Okay, I need to do some interrogating,” suddenly rushing, Chanyeol was up and swinging his bag over his shoulder before you could blink an eye. “See ya, ___!”

“Wait!” You yelled out for him, but the obnoxiously tall boy just kept running, dodging students meandering around the dining hall. Slumping in your chair, you eventually turned to look out the window, watching as he continued his flight across campus. “Good talk.”

Nothing ever came up afterward. No answers, no clarifications, nada. Chanyeol never brought it up again, despite the expectant raise of your brows the next lunch you had alone with him. You were content shrugging it off— it was out of your hands. If Baekhyun liked you, so be it.

Or so you thought. Turns out, having such unanswered questions dangling over your head every time Baekhyun left his friends for you at parties, fell asleep with his head on your shoulder during chem, or arrived at your front door with your favorite boba in hand just because he ‘was driving by’ left your mind racing almost as fast as your heart. You thought, for some time, that you could dodge such budding emotions by countering it with all the things you didn’t like about Baekhyun. (Spoiler: it didn’t work.)

Even now, as you watch him catch up with Jongdae, the left side of your brain has already begun arguing with the right. You miss his annoying ass already, one side points out. But he was a distraction, now you have double the students to check in, the other reasons. With a heavy sigh, you shake your head to rid such enraging thoughts and turn to said students, counting each one before making your way to the first in line.

He can’t donate. You realize this before he has even left his seat.

From across the gymnasium, you have continued glancing his way as he went through the mini physical. Just before the finger prick, he shot you a thumbs up and a beaming smile bright enough to challenge the Sun before jerking in his seat at the sudden pinch. Laughing, the grin you returned has not even left your face before his shoulders are sagging, a cloud of disappointment replacing the anxious excitement that was there hardly ten seconds ago. Your smile is gone just as quickly as his.

Standing, Baekhyun nods one last time to the nurse before making his way over, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck from side to side. “Low iron?” You guess, opening your arms for him to nestle into your side like the little munchkin he is. “Yeah,” he mumbles, miserable, and you cringe knowing he’s going to be like this all day now. “I wish I could donate, but…” You drone emptily, trying to change the subject despite the deceitfulness of your ‘wish.’ Over your dead body would you lie on one of those tables and have a harpoon in your arm.

“You should, now that I can’t,” he hums, breath warm on your skin. Convincing as snuggly Baekhyun is, it’s not happening. “Yeah, I’ll pass,” you snort, offering a faux smile to a group of sophomore girls making their way in, shooting confused and envious glances your way. “Make sure to grab a water before starting your Rapid Pass, ladies. If you have not eaten much today, there are snacks by Katie,” you spew, pointing to said girl across the room, “if you have any questions, let me know.” With one last feeble smile, you turn your back to them because, well, it’s awkward facing multiple females whose eyes are trained solely on the boy clinging to you.

“You’re hot when your all doctor,” Baekhyun whispers, lips brushing ever so softly against your collarbone. Suddenly, you regret taking your sweatshirt off during lunch. Swallowing past the panic rising in your throat, you scoff. “Doctor? What doctor are you seeing that directs their patients toward donuts, muffins, danishes—”

“Hot ones, I guess,” he interrupts, smirking against your skin. “Ooooh ‘kay,” you wheeze, heart racing and eyes wide as you wiggle away from him, “y’know, maybe I will donate. Just so you stop bugging me.” Gasping, Baekhyun fakes a bullet to the heart. “Ah, but here’s the thing,” he counters, following close behind as you make your way to the front table, “my job is to distract donors from the needle, hold their hand, tell them ‘good job!’ So, it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Groaning, you choose to ignore the inexhaustible boy and smile to Lauren once you have reached her. “Do you know if anyone can cover for me for a little? I’m going to try and donate.”

Gasping, she ruffles through the papers spread about her for the volunteer log. Then, “You should be fine. After those girls, the next appointment isn’t until two. I thought you hated this whole concept?”

Snorting, you pull one of the laptops towards you and begin filling out the information needed for a walk-in. “Yeah, well,” tilting your head in Baekhyun’s direction, you sigh, “he couldn’t donate, so now I feel obligated to. Plus, I need a break.”

“Ah,” Lauren hums, writing your name and ‘Walk-In’ on a sticker before passing it to you, “are you guys…?”

Immediately catching what she is hinting at, you jump up from your knelt position and quickly return to your station. “Nope! Negative! Okay, bye Lauren! Thanks!” Laughing, she chooses to ignore your antics, watching after you with a knowing smile when Baekhyun realizes you have left and scrambles to catch up.

You’re hoping you won’t be eligible since you left the country for vacation with your family nine months ago.

Never mind. It’s fine.

Perhaps your heart rate will be too high. You’re pretty anxious, after all.

84. Shit.

You flinch when the quiet-mannered nurse pricks your ring finger. Praying that your iron will be too low, you lean forward in your seat just enough to see the machine’s reading. 13.4. Fuck.

“Alright, I’m just gonna need you to read this first paragraph and sign here,” she directs you, using a pen to point at each spot. When she stands to wave for the next potential donor, you glance up to search for Baekhyun. You could use one of his smiles right about now.

And what you ask for, you receive. Finding your gaze instantaneously, he shoots you bright, encouraging grin and a thumbs up. It’s enough to calm your nerves. A little.

Offering an uncomfortable smile back, you return to your paperwork and hurriedly finish up, your leg bouncing ceaselessly. “All done?” The nurse returns, smiling softly at you and taking the papers when you nod. “You can head over to the third table in the middle.” “Okie,” you squeak, nice, “thank you!”

Good god, what happened to never allowing one of these needles to go in your arm? Sure, you have had blood tests done before, Hell, you have even given someone else one! But this… this is different. This is no ordinary needle, and you certainly do not have Byun Baekhyun veins.

“How are you doing today?” The Red Cross worker greets you once you have reached the table, smile warm and comforting. Seoyeon, her nametag reads. “I’m, ah… I’ve been better, honestly,” your voice comes out shaky and weak. You cringe. Going to med school and you’re whining over a needle. A big, fat, wide needle that will stay in your arm for more than five minutes. “Aw, no! Why’s that?” Seoyeon pouts, shuffling through your papers and slapping a big sticker onto the bag your blood, eventually, will fill.

“I have pretty tiny veins, so I’m really nervous this isn’t going to go well for me,” you admit, artfully rolling the sleeves of your tee even higher. Humming as she finishes carrying over the rest of the equipment, Seoyeon helps you onto the cushioned table before standing beside you, reaching for your arms. “Well,” she starts, brushing over each one for a few seconds before tying a tourniquet around your right bicep, “lucky for you, we do in fact check to make sure your veins are big enough. Hansol, can you double-check that this is alright?”

Your nerves seemingly do not know how to feel at the given moment. On one hand, these are professionals. They know what they’re doing. Plus, Seoyeon is lovely and has certainly eased your anxiety. Nevertheless, you realize that if your veins are okay, that needle is going to be in you in minutes.

This Hansol skirts around the table to feel the two veins Seoyeon has gone back and forth prodding. “Hm,” he grunts, pressing harder on the vein set deeper beneath your skin, “this one is good.” Oh, Christ. “Okay! Thanks,” Seoyeon smiles, then, once he has left her side, “you can lie back this way, sweetie.”

“Okay,” you sigh, settling back and resting your head on the pillow. Unsure of how to situate yourself, you awkwardly cross your legs and nestle your left arm into the pockets of your joggers, right arm dangling over the edge of the table. Then, just as you have closed your eyes, “___!”

Oh, good. This should be interesting. “Hey, Baek,” you smile at the boy as he jogs over, stopping on your left side. “You made it! No backing out now, right?”

“No, no. I’m praying for the best,” you hum, turning away from him to look straight up at the ceiling as Seoyeon begins sanitizing your arm. “You’re gonna be fine,” Baekhyun sings, tugging your hand out of your pocket to intertwine his fingers with yours, “if Sehun could do it, so can you.”

“I’m just marking where your vein is, no need to tense up,” Seoyeon interrupts, chuckling at how easily your posture has gone rigid at the sensation. Funny, how you only tensed up because of Baekhyun’s tender gesture. “I know I’ll be okay, I just,” anxiously licking the desert-dryness of your lips, you once again turn to Baekhyun, “I’m not looking forward to feeling this thing in my arm for ten minutes.”

“Nah,” he giggles, thumb swiping back and forth against your skin, “I’ll distract you!” Yeah, well you do that every day anyway, you snort to yourself, shamelessly taking advantage of the moment and scanning over his features, zoning in on the pinkness of his lips and the tiny moles sprinkled about his face. From this angle, even the shitty LED lighting of the gym somehow makes him look immaculate. “Alright, I’m going to count down from three,” Seoyeon interrupts your gawking, though you haven’t really processed her words until she’s on two. “One…” She utters, and you are instantly squeezing your eyes closed just as hard as your squeezing Baekhyun’s hand as the needle first breaks skin.

“Oh, shit,” you heave once it’s completely sheathed, rolling the plastic grip anxiously in your increasingly sweaty hand, “that actually wasn’t so bad.” Now that Baekhyun has moved to stand directly behind your head, you stare straight up at him and muster your best smile. Really— it was not as bad as you imagined, felt just like regular blood work. As long as you don’t focus too much on it remaining in your arm, you’ll be fine.

“See! I knew you could do it,” he cheers, letting go of your free hand in favor of combing his fingers through your hair. “Ooh,” you quite literally purr, leaning your head back to give him further access, “so, Mr. This-Is-My-Job, is this how you distract donors?” Chuckling, Baekhyun continues to comb through the knots that have accumulated throughout the day. “No,” he admits, “I usually just talk to them about what they did over the weekend. You’re an exception, though.”

Christ, you hope he can’t feel the way your face heats up at his words. “Ah, well, this is great. Thanks, Baek,” humming, you cannot help but let your eyelids fall closed. Peak comfort when you're donating blood? Not what you would have expected.

“So, what did you do this weekend?”

“Well, I went to Target, which was kind of disappointing.”

“Oh, yeah! Didn’t I see on your story that you only got one pair of pants or something?”

“Yeah! Crazy, honestly. I needed to pick up some things and they were completely out. Even their clothes were kind of slacking.” Before he can reply, Seoyeon returns to check up on you. Gasping in surprise, she gives your shoulder a congratulatory nudge. “___! Look at you! You’ve already filled up a fourth of the bag.”

“Oh shit, really?” Laughing, you try to lean up in order to see, but there’s no use. “Have you been drinking a lot of water today?” She asks. Well, now that you think about it… “Huh. I guess I have. Nice.” Chuckling, she fiddles with the tape holding the needle in place before turning away once more.

“So,” Baekhyun starts conversation up once more, “did you do anything else?”

“I hung out with Junmyeon on Sunday again.” Suddenly, you wish you didn’t tell him that.

“Oh,” Baekhyun coughs, accidentally yanking too hard on the tiny braid he’s attempted by your temple, “how was that?”

“It was fun. He’s a great guy…” Clearly, you are hesitant and he easily catches it. “But…?”

“I don’t know,” he’s not you, “I feel really immature and lame compared to him. He’s like, super chill and polite and somehow, it makes me nervous and then I act like I’m on crack. He needs someone older than him, not younger. A lawyer, or something.”

“___, you’re getting a degree in Neuroscience. What the fuck is lame about that?” Baekhyun scoffs, undoing the braid and starting over on the other side. “I don’t know! I guess I just don’t have romantic feelings for him. Everyone keeps pushing me to go for it and he really is amazing, but… it’s just not what I want.”

“No one’s forcing you to date him, ___.”

Well, yeah, but he doesn’t know the bit where your friends are doing it so you can get over a certain someone else. “I know. I think he’ll be fine when I tell him I just want to be friends.”

When a heavy silence falls over you, you rush to change the topic. “So! What did you do this weekend?”

“I played New Horizons,” Baekhyun chuckles, giving up on the braid and going back to simply combing through your hair. When you laugh, you feel the vibration in your arm and realize with another wave of surprise that you still have a needle in you. Damn, looks like you’re a pro at this. Who knew!

“All weekend?” You snort. He definitely went out for drinks with Chanyeol or something.

“Yes, sadly,” oh, never mind, “I couldn’t help it. It’s so relaxing. I can’t wait to go home and play.” He sounds ashamed. “Hey,” you shrug, “sometimes we need a mental health day. Or weekend.”

“Or week.”

“Month?”

“Year, I’m thinking.”

In the midst of your giggle fit, Seoyeon returns, evidently shutting the two of you up. “You’re all done! I just have to take a few tubes and then I’ll tell you when I’m going to take the needle out.”

“Wow, was it just me or did that seem really quick?” Baekhyun asks, frantically moving to hold your hand when he notices you wince at the uncomfortable feel of the needle moving slightly as Seoyeon fills each tube. “No, you’re right,” she hums, “six minutes! Wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Not at all,” you agree, blinking up at the ceiling. Still, you can’t wait to be done. “You sure? Your hand is shaking really bad,” Baekhyun murmurs, hovering directly above your face. He looks funny, messy hair cascading around him and cheeks looking extra squishy. It makes you smile. “Yeah, just nervous for it to come out, actually. Feel like it’s gonna hurt,” you admit, accidentally squeezing his hand when all Seoyeon does is remove the tape on your wrist keeping the line in place.

“Alright, you ready? It’s just going to a be a little pinch,” Seoyeon interrupts, giving your fingertips a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah,” you hum, instinctively sucking in a deep breath and squeezing your eyes shut.

The sensation that first registers in your brain is not that of Seoyeon slowly withdrawing the needle from beneath your skin. Actually, it’s unnoticeable behind the gentle pressure lingering upon your lips, soft to touch and minty in taste. Blistex, you recognize, eyes flying open just in time to see Baekhyun leaning back up. “Did you just—”

“Alright, keep pressure on this for me and keep your arm straight up,” Seoyeon interjects, oblivious to what just transpired as she presses a hefty square of gauze to your skin. You oblige, brain cells going haywire still trying to piece together the fact that Byun Baekhyun just kissed you.

“Do you do that to everyone?” Is the first thing you blurt to the grinning boy, who, surprisingly so, wears cheeks just as rosy as yours. “No,” he laughs, moving to the side and continuing to stroke you hand, “just donors named ___.”

“Oh,” wrinkling your nose, you slowly lean upright once Seoyeon instructs you to do so, “can I ask why or am I just special?” When she busies herself for few moments cleaning up all of the equipment, Baekhyun releases your hand in order to cup your face with both hands. “Well, of course you’re special,” he murmurs, thumbs swiping against your jaw, “but I figured this was a good opportunity to show you how much I like you.”

It takes a fat second for you to realize what he’s just said. Like you?

“I’m gonna kill him,” you groan, definitely not the response he was expecting if the way he retracts is anything to go by. “Kill who?”

“Chanyeol! Like, a year ago he went all detective mode on me trying to figure out if you liked me, but then he never said anything again, so for the past year I’ve been going nuts trying not to fall for you because I figured if he had nothing to say, you probably didn’t like me like that, yet here we are a year later and—”

In the midst of your mindless babbling, Seoyeon coughs, promptly shutting you up and you turn to her with a wince. “I just need to wrap you up, then you can head over to Recovery,” her attempt to hide her smile is futile but you don’t comment on it, instead allowing her to wrap elastic tape around your elbow. “Leave this on for about an hour, or you can take it off after twenty minutes. Other than that, you’re good to go!”

“Thanks so much, Seoyeon,” smiling appreciatively at her, you slowly turn to slide off the table with the help of her grip on your other arm. Before you are even fully upright, Baekhyun has rounded the table to help, slipping his arm between yours. Honestly, you feel perfectly fine, but you’re not about to go arguing right now. Once he starts leading the two of you toward Recovery, he breaks the silence once more. “So, were you finished back there, or can I talk?”

Cringing, you shake your head, avoiding looking him in the eyes. “No, I’m done.”

“Good,” at this, you pinch his arm, “Chanyeol didn’t say anything because I told him not to.” Baekhyun shushes you when your mouth opens to argue. “I thought I would make a move a lot sooner. But every time I went to, I just started panicking thinking you didn’t feel the same, because, y’know, you don’t show much emotion. And then you started hanging out with Junmyeon… but that doesn’t seem to be working out, so I decided to wing it.”

Your jaw certainly must be on the floor. Stopping by the snacks, Baekhyun releases your arm so you can fill your hands with a donut, apple juice, and a bag of Cheez-Its. “Glad to see we’re both airheads,” you grumble with a mouthful of donut, “I say we blame Chanyeol.” Making sure you safely seat yourself onto the mats spread around the room, Baekhyun then joins and sits crisscross across from you. “I agree. It’s his fault.”

Then, once you have stopped laughing, Baekhyun leans in close, face centimeters from yours and evidently stealing all the air from your lungs. God, he sure is beautiful. “This means you’ll go out with me, right?” He whispers, wiping away a sprinkle that has managed to stick itself to the corner of your lips.

“I thought you were going to play New Horizons when you got home?” You tease, raising one arm to sling across his shoulders. Groaning, he finally cups your face in his hands, strawberry pink lips ever so slightly brushing yours as his smirk deepens. “I am, but you can come watch.”

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

Kiss Me in the Rain

Ao3

Summary: All Remy wanted was to be kissed by the universe in the pouring rain. It wasn’t that complicated of a request, really- if only his universe would just get out here and fulfill it. Warnings: None that I know of! Pairing: Losleep Notes: Based on this ficlet by @teacupfulofstarshine

Remy loved the world.

He didn’t really seem the type, but he did. He loved the earth, loved knowing the names of all its plants and getting to know all its species (even if his rational boyfriend refused to let him own any of the exciting ones) and climbing its tallest trees. He loved the ocean, loved marveling over its depths and seeing its submerged colours and diving as deep into it as he could. He loved the sky, loved the clouds and their shapes and how they changed colour with the waning of the day.

Yeah. Remy loved the world. He also loved the universe, who happened to be sitting in their living room, since he didn’t appreciate the world and therefore the rain as much as Remy did.

The rain storm had started up ten minutes ago, and Remy had been outside for nine and a half of those minutes. It didn’t rain nearly enough where he lived, in Remy’s opinion, so he had to cherish the times when it did.

He had left his leather jacket inside, not wanting it to get as soaked as he was now in his jeans and crop top. His sunglasses were still on, of course, though they had gotten pushed on top of his head when it became too much effort to constantly wipe them clean of raindrops.

When he had first come outside, Remy had wandered the yard, seeing how the flowers were doing, on the lookout for a frog possibly hiding amongst them or in the bushes. Now he was simply planted on the walkway in front of his house, crouching down to watch as a worm wiggled its way across the sidewalk.

“You know, if you’re going to try and wait out the entire storm out here, you really should, at the absolute least, have a hat on.”

The smile Remy was already wearing quickly broke into a grin at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, Remy standing up and turning on his heel quick enough he should’ve fallen over so he could actually see him. The universe- his universe- was standing on the porch of their house, arms crossed even as a smile played across his face. He was just underneath the lip of the roof, avoiding the rain.

“But, sweetheart, if I do that, my hair won’t get wet!” Remy argued.

“And why must your hair get wet?” Logan asked, amused.

Remy shrugged. “It just must!”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Says mister I-refuse-to-join-you-for-some-quality-fun-in-the-rain.”

“You’re standing in the middle of the yard doing nothing.” Logan pointed out. “I can hardly see how you’d consider that to be ‘quality fun.’”

“Hey now! I’m watching the worms!” Remy defended. “Watching the worms and waiting for my boyfriend to get out here so I can kiss him in the pouring rain like a proper couple.”

“I’ll get drenched.” Logan said, leaning back against the front door. “Why can’t you come over here?”

“Because couples don’t kiss next to rain, they kiss IN the rain!” Remy explained. “Plus, then we’ll both be soaked and we’ll both catch colds and we’ll both be able to call out of work sick and cuddle on the couch and watch reruns of The Price Is Right!”

“Trying to coax me into this plan with illness is not a terribly wise move.” Logan said. “I don’t understand why you think it’d work.”

“Because I also mentioned cuddling together.” Remy answered. “Now please come over here? Seeing you without being able to hold you makes me sad; you know that, hun.”

“You are perfectly capable of coming over here and holding me.”

“Not if I refuse to move I’m not!”

Logan sighed in exasperation. “Even though the idea that you will get a cold if you are in the rain for too long is merely a myth, I must still advise against this.”

Remy’s smile just grew, well-aware that if Logan was admitting to a reason why coming and joining him in the rain wouldn’t be the end of the world, he was close to giving in and doing just that. “Come on, babes, it’s romantic! Come and give me a kiss!”

“You are a ridiculous man, and why I stay with you is a mystery.” Logan said, and Remy more knew than saw that Logan was rolling his eyes (he also knew that Logan was rolling them fondly).

“But you’re still wiiiiiiith meeeeeee~” Remy said, sing-song, reaching a hand out and beckoning for Logan to join him.

His boyfriend sighed again, pushing himself off the door and turning so he could open it and head inside. But he also left the door open a smidge, and Remy couldn’t help but do a quick spin of victory as he recognized the ajar door for what it was- a sign that Logan would be back out soon enough, decked out in his silly ‘rain protection,’ and finally ready to kiss Remy like he deserved.

And Remy, per the usual (and by the ‘usual’ he meant once every one hundred guesses), was right; a minute later, Logan was back outside, pulling the door shut as he closed the final button on his raincoat. He had an umbrella hanging off his arm as well, and Remy was already planning on how to steal it before Logan could use it to deprive him of his rain.

“I hope you know how foolish this is.” Logan said as he approached Remy, glaring vaguely upwards at the sky and the storm clouds. “It would have made much more sense if you had just joined me on the porch.”

“Yes, well, you don’t love me for my sense, now do ya?” Remy teased, wrapping his arms around the back of Logan’s neck as soon as he was close enough.

“I suppose not.” Logan conceded. “Though my point still stands. I don’t understand how you can be so enamored by all this… precipitation.”

Remy laughed. “I don’t understand how you can’t understand how I can be so ‘enamored by all this precipitation.’”

“It’s just water.” Logan said, slightly incredulous, as if he didn’t understand how Remy could question his lack of understanding towards Remy’s love of the rain. “You can find it any day of the week if you use the sink. Why is it so special when it comes instead from the clouds?”

“Because sink water never leaves the sink.” Remy replied easily. “Rain, on the other hand, touches everywhere- it waters the plants and cleans away dirt and it makes everything so shiny and so bright-” Remy turned to look again at Logan, having looked away to gesture around them, “it’s incredible, darling, can’t you see?”

Logan smiled, a small smile that was filled with only adoration, one that was rare to be directed at anyone or anything that wasn’t Remy. “I can’t see.” Logan murmured, ducking his head to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s wet forehead. “What I can see, however, is the way you light up when you speak of it, and I am certain that that is more incredible than any star in the sky.”

“You and your stars.” Remy said lightly, though his smile had once more managed to get even bigger at Logan’s kiss. “And you call my interests mundane.”

“They’re stars, my love, burning balls of elements dozens of light-years away that we can see so long as the night is clear.” Logan said passionately. “There’s nothing mundane about them.”

“Says you. All I see is little pinpricks of light. I can find that if I turn on a flashlight.” Remy returned, reaching up to wipe some stray raindrops off of Logan’s glasses, smile gentling as he did so. “Though they do look absolutely magical when they’re in your eyes.”

Logan scoffed, though he did lean his head to the side a bit, not having to say a word to convince Remy to move from cleaning his glasses to cradling his cheek. “You’re being a sap.”

“You started it.” Remy said cheekily.

“It was hard not to.” Logan defended. “If you’re allowed to be so caught up in all the little wonders you find in the world, can it really be held against me that I act a little sappy about all the wonders of mine?”

“As long as you don’t mind me getting equally sappy about the magnificence of my universe, the only thing I’ll hold against you is myself.” Remy agreed, pulling Logan even closer to illustrate his point. “Now, does your world get a kiss, or do I have to steal one myself?”

Logan smiled. “My world can have all the kisses he wants.”

Remy smiled back as he tugged at Logan’s head, the hand that had been cupping Logan’s cheek moving behind his head to pull him closer. “Then kiss me already, my dear universe.”

And, with one hand coming up so that he could bury his fingers in Remy’s hair and guide his boyfriend’s lips to his own, Logan did.

#losleep #ts logan #ts remy #ts sleep #write losleep cowards #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #the cryptid speaks #welcome to the cryptid is a sap post #I hope y'all know I absolutly adore these bois #also thank you star for your permission to write this #even if the way you learned I wanted permission was through BETRAYAL /j

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littlesparklight · 3 years

Text

A Handful of Escaping Sweetness

It's a sunny afternoon in late spring the day the world ends.

There's no one present but Paris and his cattle to feel the grinding shift in the air, like a storm rolling in from the sea, whipping the tops of waves high and white, threatening to upend the little boats out on the water surprised by the rush of chill, rain-heavy wind and clouds. The cattle around him, previously the picture of bovine unconcern, low and shift around, come huddling together and calling their new calves to themselves.

Paris, sitting on a rock, eye them with some concern for whether or not they'll be liable to start stampeding, and when he glances back he's looking up at a young, smiling face with dark, dark blue eyes, the smile a twinkle on his face. Paris can't breathe. He makes himself breathe.

"Prince Alexander of Troy, for your exemplary judgement you have been chosen to stand arbiter in a small dispute the Father of Gods and Men feel must be judged by an outside mind."

Paris glances beyond Hermes, sees the goddesses - it doesn't matter if he recognizes them or not, but of course he can't not know who they are, as shiningly, painfully obvious as they've made themselves, the very light settling about their heads like crowns, the air quivering in bending obeisance to their passing, daring not to disturb the fine fabrics of their clothing or beautifully tumbling tresses - and sees his death.

"A dispute, Lord Hermes?" Paris asks, light as if he doesn't feel light-headed, from lack of air, from the three piercing sets of eyes beyond the veiled, gentle darkness of Hermes' gaze. Hermes offers him a golden apple - it could be a ripe quince if not for the metallic shine of the skin, and Paris takes it unthinkingly, curious despite himself. Somewhere marginally safe to rest his eyes and attention. There's writing on the apple, and this is not safe.

"All three wish for this apple, Prince Alexander. Your fair mind and eyes shall be the judge as to who deserves it best."

Paris stares at the apple in his hand, silently reading out Kallistei and understands all too well what isn't said, what isn't meant to be understood. They will offer rewards, kingly, divine, as anyone should to a judge having offered the best and straightest judgement, but they have come here from anger, and if he can only award one of them the apple, he will soothe one but stir deeper anger in two.

They are goddesses, they are all breathlessly beautiful in their own ways. Paris could sing their praises with complete earnestness for years and not run out of words for it, from the flashing eyes of Pallas Athena, the broadness of her shoulders emphasizing the fall of her simple dress, the thrust of her nose the easy way she carries her helmet; from the milky shade of Queen Hera's skin, her shining eyes and rich tresses stars in the sky and jewels to her crown; from the supple gracefulness of Aphrodite's stance, her dainty feet stepping just so, the intoxicating edge to her little smile. Hera is, of course, the queen. Paris isn't sure why this is a contest at all, the answer should be clear. Not that it matters what the right or wrong answer is; there are three goddesses, one apple.

One winner, two losers, and since this is a dispute, he should lose no matter what.

"Deathless Ones, honouring me beyond what any mortal could ask for. While I am of royal blood, my family having welcomed me back past warnings, and am related to Father Zeus' own blessed cupbearer, I am also nothing more than a neatherd. My judgement may be true, and I would not deprive the winner of her fairly awarded judgement, older men than I have more experience, kings are well-versed in standing between quarrelling sides and have the authority to offer a solution." He stands up, slowly. Holds the apple out and is already shifting his weight away, towards taking that first step that will have him running, when Hermes' hand, light as a feather, more weighty than chains, come to his shoulder.

"Your blood is flawless, and you didn't hesitate when Ares won over your prize bull," Hermes says, and now the twinkle is gone from him eyes, he's serious as the coldest night. The squeeze is as reassuring as it's restraining. "Father Zeus has deemed you the most suitable."

It doesn't matter what he might choose to say; there's no way out of this, and he can't refuse.

And if he can not refuse, if he should anger two goddesses no matter what, should he not take the reward that might please him the best?

Paris of Troy isn't without ambition, but war has never suited him. He cares little for the respect to be gained through battlefield slaughter, the riches amassed through weapon skill and sacking of cities, so greater skill in such matter, though some who lacked such would surely leap upon the chance, holds little attraction for him. And while a throne of his own, vaster than any could dream of, wealth to rival the limits of man's ability to possess stir him more, Alexander of Troy is, down to his core, a romantic.

Aphrodite offers the most beautiful mortal woman in the world, and Paris thinks she wouldn't offer her if they wouldn't be compatible. If there couldn't be joy and pleasure in their meeting and joining, she would not make this her reward. He can't win, and two of the three goddesses will lose, and so Paris stays true to the foolish, gentle heart and hope of him; the mortal striving for as much pleasure as mortals can hope for in a world that will mostly offer cruelty.

When he first lays eyes on Helen of Sparta, even understanding that she's already married, Paris hopes even more to find his wishes for the reason Aphrodite offered Helen as her reward for him choosing her fulfilled. She stares at him, for a brief moment wide-eyed - an expression matched by half by her husband, too - and looks to the tall, reddish-blond man to her side before looking back at their guest.

"And what son of the blessed immortals are we welcoming into our home?" Helen is half joking, half deathly serious, and blinks, caught breathless for a moment when Paris denies himself any god as a parent with a smile.

At a hunt three days into the visit, the queen of Sparta having come with their great, baying company, Paris leans in close to her, whispering not for any flirting words or voiced wishes to kiss that rosy, fair skin, but because he's saying something entirely more dangerous even than openly lusting after another man's wife.

"How far have you gone, my lady? How much of the sky have you claimed, for your own pleasure?"

Helen goes a little pale, but where she could refuse to answer, when she glances to him, Paris quiet and attentive, leaned in close but not touching, she cracks. "... Not as far as I might have wished, once upon a time."

"Great, shining daughter of Zeus and Leda, why shouldn't you have all you want?" Paris touches not Helen, but his own chest, the spot above his heart, while shaking his head. "If you want more, you should have as much as your husband, at the very least, shouldn't you?"

Helen glances at him, looks away. Paris lets himself be drawn into the hunt, and that evening, sits in the middle of loud, cheerful noise, beautiful music and attended by two very great and beautiful people lamenting his trip will have to end at some point, and thinks of the laments made for a dead warrior, mother, sisters and daughters arranged around the great man, now cold and empty.

This is a funeral feast, and only Paris knows it.

This is the best it will get, from hereon out. Not that there won't be pleasure, won't be happiness - he should be given to some small amount of joy more, shouldn't he? - but when Menelaos has left for Crete, when he comes to Helen's chamber and she opens the door before he can knock, when they finally reach the shore and board the ships and when they land on Cranae over a day later, and she comes with him, into a shaded hide made secret by blooming myrtle bushes, their eyes meet as Paris turns Helen to face him.

They stare at each other, still for a moment, knowing the weight of the next action, and both know this is the most fragile, perfect happiness they will get.

Helen sighs, sweeter sound there wasn't, and leans in. Paris meets her, pulls her closer, and Helen throws her arms around his shoulders; such kisses are worth dying for.

*** Helen grows up in Sparta wanting for little and yet wishing for more.

Theseus scares her small and quiet, for a little while at least. And then she is just angry - why should he be allowed to do such things, why should he be able to, just because he is a man? The world is vast and yet she's allowed to hold so little of it.

It's not so displeasing, she almost forgets it when the two royal refugees come from Mycenae. The younger one is cuter, possessed of a sweeter mind, a more pleasant disposition. More patient than Agamemnon, and he even wrestles with her once, incredulous that she would want to, but not refusing her out of hand. It's not repeated, but Helen treasures that moment, treasures the startled, warm brown eyes on her when she's pinned Menelaos to the ground.

She can feel his eyes on her, earnest emotion behind every word he speaks to her while trying not to be too obvious and yet she can hear what some of the servants are whispering too, the pleasures found at his gentle hands, and Helen swallows down unfairness. Why can he, without repercussions, but not her?

Still, when her father finally marries her away, when Menelaos and Agamemnon have been back in Mycenae for two years already, Helen isn't displeased when Menelaos is proven to be among the suitors. By the amount of wealth sent as gifts, she would've been worried it was Agamemnon, but he married Clytemnestra last year. It's not. It's Menelaos, and it's Menelaos who wins out, Achilles too young to make a claim in person and Peleus refraining from making the claim for him.

Helen, led across the threshold and knowing little what to expect, only what she's observed so far, only hopes knowing the man better will bring more sweetness than not.

She isn't much fond of being pregnant, she finds. Too, what she can grasp of the world seems to shrink further, even when her heart has only grown, for tender hope has been buoyed by jokes and the laughter her husband has drawn from her, has grown high and sturdy from gentle touches and Menelaos welcoming her knowledge of city and its lands. It helps, in its own way. Makes old, secret wants sink down into the bottom of her heart, to be little thought of.

Until they received their guest from Troy.

Women cannot take, cannot do, what men can, and Helen has been living her life like that, not quite accepting it but enduring it. But then there is Prince Alexander of Troy, who whispers call me Paris, and he smiles at her and she can suddenly understand what the rest of the world must be seeing when she smiles at it.

Still, she knows her duty; she has a life, her daughter, though hard and heavy to carry as she was in her womb, makes her insides melt, and her husband's hand around hers is warm and steady. She is not unhappy.

But she wants.

She wants and has been wanting since she was young, many things, but this is one of them, and she might have confessed, once or twice, quietly, with Aphrodite there to hear. And so, whether she'd planned it or not, when Menelaos leaves for Crete and Paris comes to her chamber, she opens the door before he can reach to knock, and instead of sending him away she welcomes him.

The world does not end in the grievous fire of a city falling to its enemies, torn apart stone by stone by furious divine forces. It ends on a sunny spring afternoon, it ends in the gentle darkness of Queen Helen's chamber, it ends on Cranae under the sweet-smelling blossoms of the myrtle bush. Sometimes we take even knowing we shouldn't, and sometimes there's no choice either way, Aphrodite spreading her golden veil over the new lovers and smiling sweet enough there's the illusory hope the bitterness might not taste as sharp later.

#greek mythology #the iliad #trojan war #paris of troy #helen of sparta #helen of troy #lightart

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bijoulilou · 4 years

Text

After TWK V

“The king demands your presence.” Van says this in the most unsettling way. Stuffed in court attire with restrictive cuffs and the three hairs on his head are combed back with hair gel and Liliver’s tears from laughing so hard. He stands in front of Jude half tired and half humiliated. The greenish tinge to his skin is muted by the powder that he was forced to wear like the faeries in court.

Jude raises an eyebrow. Dressed in her work attire of running shoes, leggings and a t-shirt. She was just about to go pick up Oak and join Tom for their evening stroll.

“King?” She feigns indifference as she steps off onto the door step, no welcoming Van inside. Crossing her arms she adds, “I have no king. Last time I checked we lived in a democracy.”

Van coughs uncomfortably and asks to go inside. There are a few snickers behind him but Jude can’t see where it's coming from.

“I have to go pick up my brother from school.”

“Vivienne has already gone ahead to pick him up for you. I know this because I asked her earlier today to give us...some privacy.” Van shifts from foot to foot, itching to go inside and take off the ridiculous cloak.

“Privacy?” Jude takes notice for the first time Van’s clothes and frowns. “Why are you dressed like that what is going--”

“Jude. Let me go inside the houseeeee.” Van hisses, practically dancing on the spot. “These damns clothes itch like you would not believe!”

With much deliberation and a reluctance, Jude opens the door to let Van inside their apartment where he deliberately rushes inside and begs for another pair of pants.

“Can’t you just glamour some on?” Jude says but when Van gives her a pitiful look she rolls her eyes and heads off to fish from something suitable for him to wear. She forgets how much the iron taxes on their system and Van makes sure to lecture loudly about it. She returns with a pair of well worn sweatpants, gardening galoshes and a baggy sweatshirt. Abandoned junk that was collecting from the old tenants but Van welcomes. As he’s changing in the bathroom, Jude nukes two mugs of tea and waits for him to return. Van sits at the table with a relieved sigh.

“He’s wanted to impress you, you know.” Van gladly accepts the mug of tea and winces when it tastes of chamomile. Jude pushes the instant coffee crystals and sugar his way and he happily helps himself. “He thought that if I dressed this way, you would find it amusing and humor him this audience.”

Jude scoffs, “It sounds like he has officially lost his mind. Isn’t Cardan supposed at charming others? He’s doing a piss poor job if you’d ask me.” She adds honey to her cup. “Tom has the decency to actually ask me what I want. Rather than assume of course.”

Van winces when she mentions his name. The name Tom has forbidden from being said, written, read aloud or even rhymed with. So has the different venerations of the name or anything closely related. Its become a bit of problem.

“He’s given me these letters to read aloud to you. I’m supposed to sing some song written in your name and the outfit is supposed to do something with it.” Van waves his hands around, clearly flustered. “Between the two of us kid, there is only one of us that is required to tell the truth.” He doesn’t have to say it but its quite clear he’s begging, for the love of goddess--please don’t make me do this and lie for me please!

Jude waves him off and takes the letters. She grabs a lighter off the table to light them but they don’t burn. Her brow knits together in confusion.

“There’s a reason why I’ve been tasked with delivering these letters in person. The last letters met actually met a similar fate. They will only burn until after you read them. Cardan just wants you to read them kid. His feelings for you should be obvious enough, he misses you.”

Van doesn’t linger very long when Jude finally opens them and starts to read. He waits outside to make eyes with Liliver who hides in the bushes awaiting her mark. She’s been tasked with following their queen’s paramour these past few days. These are days that they miss the court of shadows, especially Jude and the Ghost.

__________

Tom has been paranoid to say the least. He was embarrassed when he ran into Jude after a couple of days. Running into her ex and getting knocked on his bum, a little too buzzed from the wine at the restaurant. Jude behaved so sweetly with him, he couldn’t help but be relieved she still wanted to go out.

But strange things kept happening. He could have sworn there were a pair of eyes that would greet him outside of his apartment. Tripping became a habit and he would find his things missing more often. Jude suggested some weird tricks to help and he joked about her being superstitious until her tone got all dark and serious. Tom finally relented and started wearing his sock inside out and wearing this weird bracelet she made him. Finally things started to get better.

He waits most days in his classroom, finishing up notes and cleaning up his classroom. Waiting to see Jude pick up her brother through the window. Today though, he sees Oak’s other sister Vivienne who gives a very toothy smile that makes him uneasy. It doesn’t help that Oak gives him the same look and he quickly looks away to finish his notes.

Tom’s phone pings, its a text from Jude that she’s running a bit behind. He smiles at her words and wraps up his day’s work. He can’t help but have a skip in his step as he walks his bike down the familiar path towards her apartment, a book he wants to lend her already in his basket. It surprised him when Jude mentioned that she liked books on strategy and war. The way she would structure her argument on politics or how she would find leverage on an opponent was fascinating. Tom on the other hand has always been a romantic, preferring poetry from Keats to the prose of Sun Tzu. The book he was taking to her now was marked with notes in the margin in sticky notes and little memories of his first love. Jude would alway listen so intently that it would make the blush creep up his neck towards his ears. She’d laugh at the quiver in his voice and lean in closer.

As he walks up closer, he can see her tucking a letter into hole in a tree and stroll his way. Her grin mirroring his own.

Little did he know these last few days of bliss were numbered and all Jude could do was try and make the most of them.

#tfota fanfic #jurdan #after twk #Jude x cardan #cardan x jude #tcp fanfci

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ribcagecarnival · 3 years

Audio

ADMIT ONE • VIOLET SKIES

I first heard Violet’s music while coping with heartbreak in January 2019. Her song “Cry For Me” is peak crying on the dance floor music, which is, frankly, the only genre that matters. A year later, she caught a set of mine at a house show, and we immediately linked up to write. Turns out we have great musical chemistry and we get along very well just as people, too. Her music often calls MUNA and Robyn to mind for me, but her love for folk titans like Joni Mitchell is also apparent. Check out this playlist of songs that move the wonderful Violet Skies (plus her reasons behind each selection). Her ticket to the Carnival is good for a lifetime.

A Case of You - Joni Mitchell The song I wished I’d written. The song I try to write. The lyrics, the melody - HOLY WTF. Unimaginable genius that she is, and the most simultaneously clear and vague expression of love’s totality. 14 year old me heard this through my Dad, who said Joni Mitchell was a true artist and made sure I listened to every single one of her albums. I will NEVER be over this song. Even the title is just insanely beautiful in its duality of meaning.

Zero to Hero - Hercules Hercules was my first true introduction as a child to gospel music (I grew up in Wales don’t judge me) and honestly the vocals on this film, insane. The runs, harmonies, energy - as a child it was nothing like I’d heard before and I learnt this song back to front and still to this day I think it’s insanely good songwriting, musicality is just *chef’s kiss* and the women on this song MAKE that entire film.

Can’t Help Loving That Man of Mine - Showboat Original Recording I sang this 3 times for my ‘show song’ portion of my singing grades. Everyone else usually chose something like Phantom of the Opera or something more classical, because it was a classical singing grade. So I’d sing like a few arias, something in German and then three years in a row I sang this because I thought it was (aged 12) the most wonderful song ever. Lyrically, it’s rather toxic for a 12 year old girl, honestly, but I was a hopeless romantic and having never kissed a boy at 12, the VIBES on this song were just so dramatic and I loved it. Also Showboat had me and my sister in tears the first time we watched it aged 6, I don’t think my Mam realised how traumatic it was when she put it on for us to watch.

Goodnight My Angel - Billy Joel Billy Joel, songcrafter extraordinaire, writes lullaby for his daughter, I die. I aspire to this level of craftsmanship and yes, this also makes me cry. Please go and listen to this song.

Make You Feel My Love - Adele’s version Bob Dylan wasn’t someone my parents played so I didn’t know he wrote this. Adele is just TONE and WARMTH and this song again, is so dramatic and over the top and also subtle in a way that moves my very being. I sung this so many times as a teenager and it began my love for Adele. Ballads never get old, the good ones age like fine wine (I don’t actually like wine but whatever) and they continue to be relevant and timeless in their message.

Samson - Regina Spektor Only recently did I realise that this song has affected my songwriting and is 100% behind my obsession with the chromatic 1-2-3-4 chord progression that is the PERFECT pre-chorus in my opinion. This song is just GENIUS. A song about a modern day relationship with Samson, iconic in its own way (Wonderbread!), paralleled with the original Biblical tale of Samson. Melody and lyric and piano come together in a way that really separates Regina from her peers and this song will live on for decades. The song is so specific, almost unrelatable-to in content, but it makes so much sense on an emotional level and that, that, is songwriting.

Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill She wrote it. She produced it. She’s a feminist searching for equality of experience. She’s exploring gender. She’s talking to God. She’s creating iconic sounds before her time. She is Kate Bush and I will not hear a word said against her. Big Boi does a whole interview on this song and he GETS IT. Go watch that because he explains it so well.

At Last - Etta James I sung this at every talent show I ever did and every shitty pub gig in my teens. This song! Her voice! Nobody sings like Etta. She is effortless. This song shaped my voice and I credit this song and Etta James with helping me learn runs, vocal control across my chest and head voice, and how to really sing something and mean it. When people talk about how music of black origin underpins all modern music, it’s songs like this and artists like Etta they are talking about. She is a foundation, a cornerstone in the development of the modern vocal.

Hide and Seek - Imogen Heap Imogen Heap is really tall in real life and even more wonderful. I heard this first through my sister who played it to me in the car and I lost my mind. THE VOCODER. The melody. I don’t ever know what she means really, completely, (like Bon Iver) but like, god i feel it. *That* moment in the song is so insane and I hear it all the time in my own music. Wild! It’s so wild how 30 seconds of a song can change the entire way you think about music and shape your own musicality.

I Love You More Than You’ll Ever Know - Donny Hathaway Amy Winehouse sings in Rehab “cos there’s nothing you can’t teach me…that I can’t learn, from Mr Hathaway”. She’s talking about Donny Hathaway and she’s right. Donny Hathaway’s voice is bottled soul, a depth of feeling most normal musicians will never in their lives. He ‘taught’ Amy and it shows. This song I covered and never released, but I also practiced production for the first time when I made it. The drama of this lyric too - admitting he isn’t perfect, knowing he doesn’t express his love properly but yet this song is the ultimate expression of love.

Wannabe - Spice Girls Changed my life. First album I ever got (from the tooth fairy). The Spice Girls were the soundtrack to my very early years and there are many videos of me doing dance routines to this song. If I wanted to be a pop star, this is where it started. Also don’t tell me that ZigAZigAHHH isn’t genius!?! This song is something a modern Kpop band would release. That iconic laugh at the start?! I went to their reunion tour with my sister, she was a few month’s pregnant and we both BAWLED because the nostalgia and full circle moment was just too much.

Love Is A Losing Game - Amy Winehouse Lyrical perfection. Real songwriting. Conceptually perfect. Amy Winehouse changed my life because I saw a woman with a guitar on stage singing lyrics I understood, lyrics I thought were clever and funny and vocally she just outshone everyone around her. When Amy passed away I was at a friend’s garden party, my Mam rang me and I cried in the toilets and no one could understand why I was so sad, she’s the only famous person I’ve ever really cared about like that. I felt I knew her and I owed her so much. The world owed her more and I miss her. I love to imagine what she would be like in today’s music world and what she would be writing. But the two albums were enough to keep me listening for a lifetime. This song won an Ivor Novello award and I think it is real art.

Jealous - Labrinth I’m jealous I didn’t write this song. I think this song is on most people’s I WISH lists and does it even need explaining!?!

33”GOD” - Bon Iver What do the lyrics mean? How do you pronounce Bon Iver? What does the title mean? How do you even arrive at this song when you start writing?! The production is so game changing and the Bon Iver SOUND is so unique and has affected the entire music industry, seeping in to pop and mainstream. Even Taylor knows. But this song is the one I played on repeat. I still don’t know the lyrics but I know I feel like a firecracker underwater when I listen to it and that can’t be a bad thing.

Rude Boy - Rihanna This is one of the sexiest songs ever. It changed how I thought about women and what it means to be comfortable in yourself and your own sexuality. I’m just gonna leave it at that.

Retrograde - James Blake “SUDDENLY I’M HIT” and my entire brain blows off. I played this on repeat when I moved to London and when I finally met him a year or two later I said probably nothing of consequence and likely made an arse of myself but what I should of said was “retrograde changed my life”. It shaped how I think about production, made me think about synths and the interaction between organic and synthetic sounds and the use of a songwriter’s song in a non traditional setting. James sets the bar so high for all of us and we just jump around trying to come anywhere close.

#admitone #admit one #ribcagecarnival #ribcage carnival #violet skies #playlist

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torestoreamends · 4 years

Text

Sonnet 29: A Drastoria Fic

1.5k words, G rated

On a sunny spring afternoon, Draco and Astoria discuss Scorpius’s education, and Draco recites a sonnet.

Inspired by this video of James Howard.

Read it on AO3

It’s a blazing spring day. The sun smiles down out of the cerulean sky, and the rose garden is in its brightest bloom. Draco and Astoria stroll hand in hand among the vibrant flowers, Scorpius running ahead of them, shouting about butterflies and bees and his favourite roses.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that much energy in my life,” Astoria says, as Scorpius darts from bush to bush, barely pausing for a second.

“He certainly exhausts me. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. Just... overwhelming. I wish I could keep up.”

Draco squeezes her hand. “Me too.”

Astoria watches for a moment as Scorpius stoops down to inspect a daisy in the grass. “We still haven’t decided what we’re doing about school, have we?”

Draco glances at her, but she’s inscrutable. “No, I suppose we haven’t. I assume you have some thoughts?”

“Daphne’s sending her children to a local Muggle school. For a general education, of course. They learn all sorts. Reading and writing, music, geography, Muggle history, even Muggle science. It sounds quite fascinating.”

Draco sniffs. “I’m sure it is...”

“You don’t approve.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Astoria shoots him a little smile, and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t approve... I’m just not sure I like the idea of Scorpius being exposed to-“

“This is going to be a dangerous statement.”

Draco lets go of Astoria’s hand and pokes her gently in the side. “No, it’s not. Be quiet and listen to your husband for a moment.”

“I’ll shut up and let you dig yourself a hole. Go on.” She presses a finger to her lips.

“I’m not digging!”

She raises her eyebrows at him and doesn’t say anything.

He sighs. “All I’m trying to say is that... I don’t like the idea of Scorpius being exposed to a substandard education. Which by no account means that all Muggle education is substandard. On the contrary, I’m sure it’s excellent. But I do read those newspapers you leave lying around, Astoria. Those politicians meddling with Muggle education... It all seems terribly inconsistent, changeable as the wind, and the exams... Imagine taking a curious child like Scorpius and crushing all the joy out of him with all those exams. That’s what I’d be worried about. I mean look at him.”

They both fall silent and watch Scorpius. His attention is focused on one particular flower. When he realises his parents are watching him, he looks up and grins at them.

“There’s a bee!” He points at the flower and peels the petals back, twisting the stem to show them. “Look!”

“He loves the world,” Draco murmurs. “He loves learning. I don’t want him to lose that.”

Astoria twines her fingers with his and leans into him, turning to look up at his face. “That’s not the answer I expected you to give. I’m sorry.”

Draco lifts her hand up and kisses it. “I haven’t earned the benefit of the doubt, don’t worry. It’s something I’m working on.”

“No, you earn it every day. I just forget sometimes.”

Draco bows his head to hide what he’s worried might be a blush. “Anyway... Neither of us went to formal school before Hogwarts and we turned out alright. Eventually.”

“We did. But I think it would be nice for him to meet other children and make some friends. Muggle education experts say social development is very important.”

“We could take him to visit his cousins more often. I like Daphne. She has an excellent wine cellar.”

Astoria snorts and digs her elbow into his ribs. “What’s wrong with our wine cellar?”

“It’s much more fun to drink someone else’s expensive wine. Drinking one’s own can be somewhat painful. In fact, that’s something we could teach Scorpius during his home education.”

“We could... train him to be the world’s youngest Master Sommelier?”

“No. We could teach him the value of graciously accepting other people’s hospitality. Social education, just like your Muggle experts suggest.”

“Somehow, I’m not sure that’s quite what they were thinking of...” She links her arm with his and they set off walking in pursuit of Scorpius, who’s disappearing down the lawn in the distance. “What else would you teach our son, if he were to be educated at home?”

“History, obviously. Languages; we could even start him off with some basic runes. Literature — all the classics.”

“Are we including Muggle classics in this?”

“Such as?”

“Austen. Brontë.”

Draco wrinkles his nose. “Romance novels?”

Astoria pokes him in the side. “What would you have picked?”

“Shakespeare.”

“Says the man who was disparaging romances.”

“At least Shakespeare also wrote a great many tragedies, and history plays.”

“And sonnets, some of the most beautiful romantic poetry ever written.”

Up ahead, Scorpius starts running back towards them, waving his hands in excitement about something.

“Some of the sonnets may be relatable...” Draco admits.

Astoria grins and squeezes his arm. “Such as?”

“Such as... Sonnet 29.” Draco releases Astoria so he can turn to face her properly. He clears his throat. “‘When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes; I all alone beweep my outcast state; And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries; And look upon myself and curse my fate; Desiring this-’ Hang on, that’s wrong. I don’t think I can remember it...”

Astoria smiles. “You skipped a couple of lines. ‘Wishing me like to one more rich in hope; Featured like him-’”

Draco nods and starts reciting again, speaking along with Astoria. “‘Like him with friends possessed; Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope; With what I most enjoy contented least-’”

“Mummy, Daddy!” Scorpius bounces up to them, waving something in his hand. Astoria puts a finger to her lips and scoops him up into her arms.

“Sshh, Daddy’s reciting a poem for us.”

Scorpius twists round and stares at Draco, wide-eyed, as Draco continues, trying not to be tripped up by the fact that his audience has suddenly doubled in size.

“‘Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising; Haply I think on thee.’” He reaches out and taps Scorpius on the nose. Scorpius giggles and goes cross-eyed as he follows Draco’s finger. When Draco pulls hand back, he clamps his own hand over his nose, still grinning. Draco smiles as he carries on.

“‘And then my state, (Like to the lark at break of day arising from sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings; That then I scorn to change my state with kings.’”

When Draco finishes, Astoria taps her fingers on Scorpius’s back in applause, and Scorpius cheers. Draco gives them a small bow.

“Thank you, thank you. I’m stunned I remembered that.”

“It was pretty,” Scorpius says. “What‘s it mean?”

“It’s about love,” Draco replies, shooting Astoria a smile. “And hardship. And redemption, I suppose. Very relatable.”

“It was written by Shakespeare.” Astoria brushes her fingers through Scorpius’s hair. “He was a famous writer. Your daddy and I might be going to teach you about him, along with lots of other things, so you’ll know lots and lots before you go to Hogwarts.”

“Oh...” Scorpius breathes in wonder. “I want to learn about everything.”

“Exactly.” Astoria kisses him on the forehead. “Now, what did you want to show us?”

Scorpius waves his hands down the garden. “There’s an amazing flower! I don’t know what it is. You need to tell me. I’ll show you.” He wriggles his way out of Astoria’s arms and tears away across the grass.

Astoria sighs and wraps an arm round Draco. “I don’t think you could constrain that in a classroom even if you tried...”

Draco shakes his head. “No. I’d pity the poor teacher that had to try. Although I suppose that’ll be us...”

Astoria laughs. “You might come to regret trying to home school him.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I could ever regret anything when it comes to him.”

Astoria leans her head briefly on his shoulder. “You should consider reciting sonnets more often, you know. I could get used to it. You have a nice voice for them.”

Draco gives her a squeeze. “For you, I could consider becoming a hopeless romantic.”

“Shame, I thought you already were.”

Draco laughs. “We’ll see. Now, I suppose we should hurry up and find out what our adorable bundle of exhaustion wants to show us.”

“I bet it’s not a flower. I bet it’s another toadstool.”

“Basic Herbology. We should add that to the list of things to teach him.”

“Definitely... He has the whole world to explore.”

“But the best people to show it to him, even if I do say so myself.”

“Mmm.” Astoria pauses in her stride so she can lean up and kiss him. “Even if you do say so yourself.”

They wrap their arms around each other and fall into an awkward, lopsided stride as they wander happily through the sun drenched rose garden, following the sound of Scorpius’s distant laughter.

#Draco Malfoy #Astoria Malfoy #Scorpius Malfoy #Drastoria #Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic #Cursed Child Fic #HPCC Fic #Cursed Child #Harry Potter and the Cursed Child #Malfoy family feels #My writing #Keep The Secrets #James had to pick the most Draco sonnet didn't he?#Of course he did #Actual Draco Malfoy #(Also writing baby Scorpius is my favourite)#(What a bundle of joy he is)

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